The Devil's Labyrinth

CHAPTER 32

FATHER SEBASTIAN DISCREETLY held Father Laughlin’s arm to steady him as the old priest eased himself down into the only padded chair in Archbishop Rand’s austere office, then took his own seat at the same time the Archbishop squeaked into the chair behind his desk.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Rand began.

“Is this about my report?” Laughlin asked, his rheumy eyes sparkling uncharacteristically in his eagerness to hear what the Vatican might have said. Father Sebastian felt certain that there must have been a time when the old priest had been a man whose bearing befitted his height. But his mind seemed to have shrunk as much as his body, and now there was an oddly childlike quality to him. Perhaps the Archbishop would see that it was time for Laughlin to be retired, from the school at least, if not the priesthood itself.

Rand peered over the top of his half-glasses, his gaze no less sharp for his slight loss of ocular focus. Unlike Laughlin’s, the Archbishop’s mind was easily outpacing his body. “Your report has certainly generated interest from the Vatican,” he said carefully.

While Sloane clearly understood the Archbishop’s guarded tone, Father Laughlin fairly beamed. “I knew it!” he said. “I knew they’d be impressed!”

“They were,” Rand agreed. “And there is something else.”

“Else?” Laughlin echoed, his eyes blinking nervously. “What else?”

Father Sebastian straightened slightly, hearing something in the Archbishop’s voice that told him to make absolutely certain he understood every nuance of whatever he was about to say.

“There is a possibility — and I stress that this is only a possibility — that our new Pope may visit Boston.”

Laughlin’s mouth dropped open in stunned amazement. “Here? Really?”

“Again,” the Archbishop reiterated, “it is only a possibility, and as his North American tour begins in less than two weeks, I would submit that the possibility is a slim one. A very, very slim one.”

“Still,” Laughlin said, clutching at the idea of a papal visit like a child clinging to a bag of candy. “This is remarkable news!”

The Archbishop tipped his head a fraction of an inch. “Your report, it seems, has intrigued His Holiness. As I’m sure you’re both aware, the Archdiocese has asked repeatedly for a papal visit, but until now it has been consistently refused.” His gaze moved from Laughlin to Sebastian Sloane. “For obvious reasons, given the problems we’ve had in Boston. But apparently your work at St. Isaac’s has made a difference in Rome.” The Archbishop paused while Father Laughlin took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the perspiration that had broken out on his forehead. Only when he was certain the old priest wasn’t going to actually faint from excitement did he finally continue, this time addressing himself to Laughlin. “Let me remind you, Ernest, that nothing is confirmed. For now, this information needs to remain strictly within the confines of this office, except for the very highest ranking members of your staff.”

“My staff?” Laughlin echoed.

The Archbishop nodded. “Yes, Ernest, your staff. After all, if he comes to Boston, it is St. Isaac’s that His Holiness will want to visit, and it must be ready.”

“And what can we do to convince the Pope that he must come to Boston?” Father Sebastian asked.

Archbishop Rand leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers thoughtfully, his eyes fixing on Sloane. “In the end, the Pope will of course do whatever God tells him to do, but it has been suggested that another success — another documented success — in your work could perhaps weigh in the decision.”

Father Sebastian’s heart began to beat a little faster. Like Laughlin, meeting the Pope had been a lifelong dream, and when Rand spoke again, his own excitement grew.

“The Pope, like you, has a very strong background in the ancient rites of the Church, and my sources at the Vatican say he was quite taken with what you’re doing.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, already anticipating what was coming. “I see,” he said softly.

“I hope you do,” Rand replied. “We all want a papal visit, Father Sebastian. We need one. And we are counting on you.” He rose from his chair, Father Sebastian immediately following his lead, then helping Father Laughlin to his feet. As he came around the desk to see his visitors out, he spoke once more, and Father Sebastian knew his entire future rested on his ability to comply with the Archbishop’s order.

† † †

They were barely down the steps of the rectory and onto the sidewalk before Father Laughlin had his cell phone in hand, dialing Sister Margaret.

Father Sebastian hailed a cab, then held the car door open for him, but instead of getting into the cab, the elder priest spoke excitedly to his secretary. “Schedule a staff meeting immediately, Sister. We have wonderful news!” Father Sebastian shot him a warning look. “It’s the Pope,” Laughlin exulted far too loudly. “The Pope is coming to Boston!”

His stomach dropping at the words, Father Sebastian quickly scanned the crowded sidewalk, praying that the words had gone unheard. But already at least a dozen people had stopped and turned to stare at the old priest.

Sloane unceremoniously hustled Father Laughlin into the cab, then pushed in behind him. But it was too late.

By the time the cab pulled away from the curb, several passersby were already dialing their cell phones and starting to talk.