The Moses Virus Read Online Free

“I’ve already gotten calls, and Lieutenant Gabrielli’s office telephoned to arrange a phone meeting tomorrow morning. I’d like you to attend if you can.”
    “Sure thing.”
    “Well, something leaked out,” Connor said, breaking off a small cluster of grapes. “I had an odd telephone conversation this afternoon with Tim O’Boyle.”
    “Who’s that?” Tom asked.
    “The former chief archivist of the Vatican libraries. He’s a retired priest. We’ve become friends since we both spend time at the Vatican doing research.
    “Father O’Boyle expressed his sympathy at what happened in the Forum—just how he knew about it so quickly, I have no idea. He discreetly began to ask questions about what actually had happened, and how much detail we have. And, he asked about you, your connection to the Academy, your profession. Very polite, but probing. Finally, he asked the oddest of questions.”
    “What did he say?” Tom asked, startled by a perfect stranger’s interest in his life. What could this unwelcome intrusion mean?
    “O’Boyle said, ‘Is this Stewart person a wholly ethical person? Is he totally trustworthy?’ Just like that. Ethical, trustworthy—in my opinion, very odd questions. Out of order, really.”
    “I agree,” Tom said. “How did you answer—if I may be so bold?”
    “I told him ‘very ethical, very trustworthy.’ O’Boyle definitely had something on his mind, though I certainly did not know what it was. ‘One final question,’ he said. ‘Is Stewart a man of action?’”
    “How in the world did you reply to that?” Tom asked.
    “I said that you were courageous and had walked through the chaos, destruction, and danger of 9/11 helping to identify human remains to give families of lost ones some closure. Wouldn’t that serve as a proxy for ‘action’?”
    “Thank you, John,” Tom said. “I’m honored by your answers.”
    “Well, here’s the unusual part. Just before dinner tonight, he called back, somewhat nervously, to ask that I consider our prior conversation ‘off the record.’ Just not ‘off the record,’ but totally off the record.”
    “That’s off the wall,” replied Tom. “What’s O’Boyle like?”
    “Quite a likable guy,” John replied, “with a wry sense of Irish humor. A serious scholar. Often, you’ll find him in the Mithraic Temple in the third level of San Clemente Church.”
    “Mithraic Temple?”
    “O’Boyle’s an expert on this clandestine group—mostly Roman soldiers who kept their secret rites to themselves. He loves to sit on the stone bench in the anteroom, imagining, he says, he can hear the soldiers praying.”
    “John,” said Tom, “that was two thousand years ago.”
    “I know, I know.” He laughed. “In Rome, we all have our pet fetishes. His is harmless, and his research is well regarded. I’ve never heard him so anxious to understand the essence of someone’s character, nor back away from this line of questioning so abruptly. I’d even say he seemed uneasy or afraid of something. I still don’t get what he meant by ‘man of action.’”
    Caroline had been half-listening since she was preoccupied with the Academy’s new problems, stemming from the tragedy in the Roman Forum.
    “Tragic news travels fast, especially over the Internet,” Caroline said. “I’ve received a few calls and e-mails from Doc’s colleagues in Rome. Apparently, it’s been on TV as well.”
    “How did the families take the news?”
    “As you’d expect. They were devastated. Eric’s parents will be on the evening plane to Rome to take him home. Doc had no immediate family, except for a sister living in California. She asked me to arrange to have him sent to a funeral home in her area. Of course, the Academy will pay all the expenses.”
    “Are you planning to have a memorial service for Doc and Eric in Rome?” Tom asked.
    “Yes, I’ve been thinking about that.”
    “What about their personal items?”
    “Greg Bator is