A Father's Legacy

Maggie Raymond walked into the entry hall and closed the heavy door behind her. She removed her black gloves and her veiled hat and placed them on the table. As she looked up, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her face was drawn and pale. Her eyes, red and swollen, had dark circles under them. She was thankful for the veil today.

Her husband’s funeral was finally over and she could at last mourn in private. Patrick had been a very popular professor at the University, where he taught history—specifically, the history of ancient Ireland. He had been quite active in the Church, and had volunteered in several community organizations.

The Church had been filled to capacity. In fact, they even had to bring in extra chairs. Father Johnson had delivered such a moving eulogy that there wasn’t a dry eye in the building.

After the graveside service, Maggie had been surrounded by a crowd of people speaking kindly to her, saying they would pray for her, asking if there was anything they could do for her, and comforting her.

All the while, all she wanted to do was retreat to the quiet sanctuary of her home. The past six weeks had drained her physically and emotionally.

Had it really only been six weeks? It felt like it had been at least six months.

Patrick’s illness had started gradually and innocently enough. He had experienced occasional stomach discomfort. At first, over-the-counter medication had seemed to take care of the problem.

After a few days, the discomfort developed into constant pain. Then, one afternoon, he began violently vomiting blood. This led to a visit to the emergency room and several doctor’s appointments, complete with a myriad of tests. The results had proven inconclusive and had raised even more questions than they had answered. The doctors had no idea what was wrong; all they could do was give him more and stronger medicine for the pain.

Night time had been the worst. The pain robbed him of sleep. Yet as sick as he was, he took his wife’s need for sleep into consideration. He would put on a brave face as he suppressed the pain. When he was certain she was asleep, he would quietly slip out of bed and head for the study, where he would spend the remainder of the night.

She would find him there when she awoke in the morning. He would be furiously typing on the computer as if his life depended on it. He would be so consumed with his work that he did not seem to notice her standing there.

After a few moments, she would quietly turn away and walk down the hall to their son’s room. Sean, just about to turn two years old, would usually still be asleep. He would stay awake long after he had been put to bed, and thus he tended to sleep until mid-morning.

Maggie entered the kitchen each morning at about 7:20. Bridget, the housekeeper, would about have breakfast prepared. By 7:30, as she was placing the food on the table, Patrick would come into the kitchen and join his wife for the morning meal.

As time went on, his condition worsened to the point that he could no longer keep food down. However, he would have his juice and coffee as she ate.

What had amazed her the most was how well he could keep his spirits up. No matter how much the pain bore down on him, he always had a smile and a kind word to say. He had always been one for jokes, especially puns. He would use his humor in a desperate attempt to cheer her up.

But as his illness continued to destroy him, his humor became weaker, and his smile grew thinner. The mischievous glint in his eyes that made him look like a leprechaun had faded as well.

A week before he passed, Patrick was sitting at the breakfast table, watching his wife trying to muster up enough of an appetite to eat her meal. She stared at her food, knowing that if she were to look up and see his gaunt face, she would burst into tears.

Sensing her distress, he reached across the table and took Maggie’s hand into his own. With the other hand, he softly caressed her cheek. “My darling,” he said, “you are the love of my life, and I have been truly blessed to have spent this much time with you.”

She reached up and took his hand and kissed it. “It hasn’t been enough time,” she insisted. “I want more time with you!”

“My time is coming to an end,” he replied softly.

“Don’t say that!” Maggie commanded in an alarmed voice. “The doctor will find out what’s wrong and give you the medicine you need!”

Patrick sighed heavily and said, “Maggie, my love, there is no cure.”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “You can’t just give up!”

“I know there is no cure because I know what’s wrong,” he explained. “I’ve been poisoned. The compound was slipped into my food five-and-a-half weeks ago. I’d say I have a week to ten days before I die.”

“Poisoned?” Maggie cried out in disbelief. “Who would want to poison you?”

Patrick was silent for several long moments as Maggie’s anxious eyes searched his face for answers. He hesitated to even mention this to her. He felt that to say any more would cause her great anxiety.

Finally, with a tired sigh, he said, “I have information concerning the location of a Relic with important historical significance. At the moment, I am the only person in the world who not only knows of its existence, but also of its location.”

“A Relic?” Maggie asked. “Why would anyone want to poison you over a Relic? Besides that, if you are the only person in the world who knows it exists, how would anyone know to poison you?”

“I am the only one who knows it exists and where it is,” Patrick said. “But there have been rumors of its existence for centuries.”

“What kind of Relic?” she asked. “Something like the Spear of Destiny or a piece of the True Cross? Maybe a bone from some long-dead saint?”

Smiling, he said, “Nothing as recent as that. The information about this Relic has been passed down through my family for over 3000 years.”

“So what is this precious Relic?” Maggie asked. “Is it the Ring of Solomon or even the Ark of the Covenant?”

Patrick laughed softly and said, “Nothing so obvious, I’m afraid. I can’t give you any details, other than to say the Relic is directly related to Ireland.”

“But I still don’t understand why someone would want to kill you over some ancient Relic that no one really knows for sure exists,” Maggie said in a troubled voice.

After a moment, he asked, “Do you remember reading how Hitler had sent people all over the world looking for relics?”

“Yes,” Maggie said. “He was especially interested in possessing the Spear of Destiny, which had pierced Christ’s side. Legend said that he who wielded the Spear would lead an invincible army.”

“There is a similar legend with this Relic,” Patrick said. “He who possesses this Relic would become High King over Ireland, and would have anything he wanted. He would have absolute power.”

“Do you really believe all that?” Maggie asked. “I mean, think about it. The market has had more than its fair share of fake relics. And even if a relic were genuine, do you honestly believe it is imbued with any supernatural powers?

Patrick paused for a moment before he said, “I am not sure about other relics, but I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that this Relic is authentic and that it does possess supernatural powers.”

“And how could you possibly be so sure?” Maggie challenged.

“Because I have handled it and have seen it in action,” Patrick replied.

Maggie stared incredulously at him for a moment. Finally, she shook her head and said, “For the moment, let’s just forget about all this Relic nonsense for now. You said you were poisoned. Do you know what the poison is? If you do, you can let the doctor know. Maybe he can find some kind of antidote.”

“It would be a waste of time and resources,” Patrick said. “The people who developed the poison made sure their victims could not be helped. Do you think I’d keep this information to myself if I thought there was a chance a cure could possibly be found?”

“Alright then,” Maggie said, “It sounds like you know who poisoned you. Why haven’t you said anything to the authorities?”

“It wouldn’t have done any good.” Patrick said quietly.

“Why not?” Maggie demanded.

Patrick answered, “They wouldn’t have believed me.”

“What do you mean they wouldn’t have believed you?” Maggie asked.

“When I tell you who poisoned me,” he said, “not only will you understand why I didn’t tell the authorities, you’ll think I’m a raving lunatic.”

“Try me!” Maggie said. “Who poisoned you?”

Softly, Patrick said, “The Brotherhood.”

Maggie sat back in her chair, stunned. “Are you mad?” she asked.

“I hate to be one to say, ‘I told you so…’” he said, with a ghost of a smile on his face.

“The Brotherhood?” she repeated. “They’ve been at the center of almost every conspiracy theory since the Middle Ages! They’re the least secret ‘secret society’ that has ever existed! What makes you think they are involved in all this?”

“It’s complicated,” he said.

Maggie was silent for a long time. As tears trickled down her cheeks, she said, “All this leaves me with a dilemma. Either you are delusional due to your sickness, or you’re telling me the truth, which means you’ve kept secrets from me ever since we met. And I’m not sure which prospect hurts me worse. Either you’re mad, or you don’t trust me.”

Patrick gently wiped away her tears with his napkin and said, “You are my beloved, Maggie. There is no possible way that I could love you more, and yet I find myself growing more deeply in love with you every day. There are things I have kept from you for your own safety. I couldn’t bear it if any harm came to you because of me. I trust you from the depths of my heart, but there are others I do not trust.”

“If you are so afraid of The Brotherhood, why risk telling me anything now?” Maggie asked. “What if they have this place bugged?”

“They don’t anymore,” Patrick said.

“What do you mean ‘anymore’?” Maggie asked.

“Yesterday, while you were out running errands, I called a friend of mine from Scotland Yard,” he said. “He was in Dublin finishing up an investigation. I explained my situation to him, and he came over. He found a dozen listening devices in the house and four surveillance cameras concealed throughout the estate. They have all been destroyed. He assured me that the house is clean.”

“But how could they get into the house to do all that?” she asked in an alarmed tone.

“Maggie, my love,” he said, “we are creatures of habit. Every Sunday, Bridget, you, Sean and I go to Mass. Afterwards, you, Sean and I go out for lunch and Bridget spends the afternoon with her family. There is no one here for several hours. They could easily get in, plant the bugs and leave without anyone being the wiser.”

“Then how did you know to contact your friend at Scotland Yard?” she asked.

He said, “Sunday evening, when I went into the study, I saw that my chair had been moved a few inches from the desk. I thought that was odd, because I always push my chair in until it touches the desk. Then, I noticed that the card showing on the Rolodex was not the same as it was that morning. Two file folders that had been on the left side of the desk were now on the right side. There were a few other things that just weren’t right. I knew someone had been searching through things in the study. That’s why I made the call.”

Maggie was silent for a while. Suddenly, she said, “Hang on just a minute. I’m a little bit confused here. You said it was The Brotherhood that had poisoned you, but that doesn’t make any sense. If this Relic is as powerful and important as you say it is, wouldn’t The Brotherhood try to get you to tell them where it is, or even make you get it for them? Why kill the only person in the world who knows where it is?”

“I really wish you hadn’t asked that,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I really don’t think you want to hear the answer,” he replied.

She set her jaw and said, “I’m not some little child that you have to hide things from. I’m a grown woman. The question has been asked and I want an answer!”

Weakly, he said, “Alright. For a very long time, there has been an ultra-secret society that has been hiding within The Brotherhood. They call themselves The Enlightened Ones. They are the true power behind The Brotherhood. I don’t think The Enlightened Ones would want the Relic to fall into the hands of The Brotherhood, an organization that has done a very poor job of covering up some of the their actions over the years. This Relic would give them too much power, and that would be catastrophic for all concerned. They would rather see it remain lost forever than have it end up in the hands of The Brotherhood.”

“Even if it meant killing someone?” she asked.

He answered, “The way they would see it, they would gladly sacrifice one person, or one family, if it meant saving humanity.”

For a long time, Maggie said nothing. Finally, she asked, “Why are you telling me all this? It has been difficult enough dealing with the severity of your illness. All this other stuff is just too…overwhelming.”

“I’m so sorry about all this,” Patrick said quietly. “I hadn’t intended for any of this information to come out.”

Flatly, she asked, “Then what did you mean to tell me?”

“All I intended to tell you,” he said, “was that my time was coming to an end. And though our time together has been too short, I would rather have had a short life with you than a long life without you. You are a strong woman. You will not only survive, you will thrive.”

“Ma’am?”

Startled, Maggie turned to see Bridget closing the front door. Bridget pushed the stroller over to her boss. “Young Sean had such a good time at the park,” the housekeeper said. “He tired himself out and fell asleep on the way home.”

“Thank you for taking him to the park today,” Maggie said with a smile.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” Bridget replied. “How did everything go?”

“The service was lovely,” Maggie said, “and so many people were there! Patrick certainly touched a lot of lives.”

“How are you holding up?” Bridget asked.

Maggie sighed deeply and said, “Now that the funeral is over I can start to grieve. I just can’t believe he’s gone. We had nine wonderful years together, but now that’s all over.”

Bridget said, “I’ve been praying for you, Ma’am. I can’t imagine the sorrow you must be feeling now.”

“I appreciate that,” Maggie said. “I’m going to sit for a while in the living room. Would you mind bringing me some tea?”

“Certainly,” Bridget said. “I’ll put Sean in his bed and then I’ll prepare your tea.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said. She walked down the hall and opened the door to the living room. She gasped as she surveyed the sight before her.

The room had been totally ransacked. Pictures had been slashed and frames broken. Furniture had been thrown about and the fabric had been cut to shreds. Papers and books were scattered all over the place.

She couldn’t understand how all this had happened. She had only been gone for a few hours. Why would someone do this?

A few moments later, Bridget was at her side, holding the sleeping toddler. “It looks like the whole house is in disarray,” she said. “The study door was broken in and hanging on one hinge. It’s a mess! They even destroyed the nursery.”

“Call the authorities,” Maggie said. “Then call the University and have them check his office. I have a feeling they’re going to find it in a similar condition.”

In a very short time, the police arrived to investigate. Soon, there were officers all over the place—taking pictures, dusting for finger prints, doing a video walk-through, checking the grounds and conducting interviews.

A uniformed man in his late 20’s approached Maggie. “Ma’am,” he said, “my name is Ian Ryan. I’m the lead investigator assigned to this case. Let me begin by telling you how sorry I am for your loss. I took several classes under Professor Raymond. He was a good and wise man. I would not be who I am today if it hadn’t been for your husband.”

Maggie raised eyebrow and asked, “What do you mean?”

Ian said, “During my first year, my parents told me they were getting a divorce. They said the only reason they had stayed married was because I was still living at home. Now that I was gone, there was no reason for them to stay together. I was devastated! I interpreted their words to mean that it was my fault they were getting a divorce. If I hadn’t left to go to school, they would still be married. I hadn’t realized how bad things were because they always fought in private. I had never even heard them have a disagreement.” He shook his head and continued, “Anyway, my grades began to suffer, and I was seriously thinking about quitting school. One day, Professor Raymond asked me to stay after class. Once all the other students were gone, he asked me what was wrong. I told him nothing was wrong; everything was fine. He didn’t buy that, so he asked me again. I was amazed to realize he was genuinely concerned about what was happening in my life. We talked for well over an hour that day. He encouraged me to press on. He said that if I ever needed to talk, his door was always open. And he was right! Over the years, I stopped by his office more times than I could count. He always made time to talk. I’ll never forget that.”

Maggie smiled and said, “That was Patrick, alright. He honestly cared for his students. I think that’s one of the things that made him such a good professor.”

Ian nodded and said, “I’ll get to the bottom of this. You can count on me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work.”

Meanwhile, one of the officers was working in the study. It was in total disarray, just like the rest of the house. All the folders from the file cabinet were scattered all over the floor, and all the desk drawers had been dumped out and scattered as well. The books had been taken off the shelves and thrown about.

But there was something odd on and around the desk—several empty CD boxes and storage cases. From what the officer could tell, there were about 20 CDs missing.

When the officer reported this to the lead investigator, Ian asked Maggie, “Do you have any idea what could have been on those CDs?”

She replied, “They were likely related to the classes he taught—you know, things like lesson outlines, handouts, notes, tests, and so forth. I’m not really sure why anyone would want to steal them.”

About that time, there was a call for Ian. When the call was over, he said, “Mrs. Raymond, that was an officer who was sent to check out your husband’s office at the University.”

“Late husband’s” Maggie corrected him.

Momentarily feeling awkward, Ian said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am. The officer said someone had broken into your late husband’s office as well. They’re investigating there as well.” He paused before asking, “How did you know to have us check out his office as well?”

Maggie smiled slightly as she said, “When I saw what had been done to the living room, I knew it wasn’t an ordinary robbery.”

“And just what made you jump to that conclusion?” Ian asked.

“Well,” Maggie said, “When I first saw the condition the room was in, my first thought was that I had been robbed while I was attending my husband’s funeral.”

“Naturally,” the investigator said.

“Immediately, my instinct was to look and see if any valuables had been taken,” Maggie said. “I looked at the mantle to see if the gold crucifix set with rubies was still there, and it was,” Maggie pointed to the cross.

“Perhaps the robber was in a hurry and didn’t notice it,” Ian suggested.

“Unlikely,” Maggie said. “The times for my husband’s funeral service had been well-publicized. Anyone who had any common sense would know that they would have a few hours of time to rob the house without fear of being caught. Why would they miss the crucifix in such an obvious display? And there are several other very valuable items in this room that remained untouched.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a very smart thief,” Ian offered weakly.

Maggie shook her head and said, “As far as I can tell, the only things that have been taken are some CDs from study. It’s obvious whoever did this was looking for something specific. And it made sense to me that if they were looking for something here, they would also search his office.”

Ian looked up from his notepad and said, “This just doesn’t make any sense. If this is a normal robbery, we are dealing with the dumbest thieves on the planet. On the other hand, why would anyone steal Professor Raymond’s class notes? He taught ancient Irish history and mythology, for crying out loud! If anyone wanted that information, all they had to do was buy his three-volume set of books on ancient Ireland.” Ian sighed deeply and asked, “Do you have any idea who could have done this, and why?”

Maggie was silent for a moment. How could she possibly answer that question? If she told him what Patrick had told her, she would be labeled a crazy conspiracy theorist. And she wasn’t even sure herself if she really believed everything Patrick told her. Finally, she said, “I have no idea who would do this, or why.”

Ian scowled as he looked at his notepad. A moment later, he looked up, smiled politely, and said, “We’re almost through here. We’ll have a few officers patrol the area tonight, just to be safe. We may need to confer with you later, so please keep us apprised of your whereabouts. We will try to solve this as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said. “I would appreciate anything you can do to find the person responsible for this.” Ian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of his business cards. After writing on the back of it, he handed it Maggie and said, “Here’s my card. My home number is on the back. If you need anything at all, please feel free to call anytime, day or night.”

“That is a very generous offer,” Maggie said. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do for Professor Raymond,” the inspector said.

Late in the afternoon, a fire was burning brightly in the fireplace in the study of the mansion. The estate was in a secluded area in the countryside. Beneath the picturesque appearance, this place was a virtual fortress, guarded by all the latest security technology, as well as a vast security force.

The home belonged to the Leader of The Enlightened Ones. Joining him at this study table were his Right Advisor and his Left Advisor. The two Advisers, who had been summoned to this urgent meeting, waited for the Leader to speak.

“We have a situation that requires our immediate attention,” the Leader said. “To be sure the conversation will not be used against us, in the event that our security is breached and our conversation recorded, we will use Priority Alpha One Protocols. No names or identifying descriptions are to be used. Now I’m sure you’re both aware of the break-ins today.”

Both Advisors nodded.

The Leader continued, “Something must be done about these rogue elements in The Brotherhood before they ruin everything. Their recklessness needs to be stopped immediately, by any force necessary.”

“Recklessness?” Right Advisor said heatedly. “May I remind you, Leader, that you personally ordered the lethal dose of poison to be administered to the Keeper of the Secret?”

Calmly, the Leader said, “I am well aware of the order, and of its results. Had The Brotherhood not forced our hand, the order would have been unnecessary.”

Right Advisor, still agitated, said, “Their dosage was enough to make him think he was so sick that he was going to die. In doing so, they were hoping that he would feel a sense of urgency to let someone know where the Artifact is. And it might have worked! He might have revealed the location! Isn’t that what we all wanted?”

“Indeed,” Leader said. “Obviously, we want the Artifact as much as The Brotherhood wants it. However, our motives are vastly different. The Brotherhood wants the Artifact so that they can wield ultimate power over the whole world. Their word would be law. No longer would they have to act in secret. With the power of the Artifact, they would be invincible.”

Leader paused for a moment to take a sip of his coffee before he continued. “I needn’t remind you of the old axiom: ‘Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ Once the Artifact is found, which one person would ultimately hold the reins? Lust for absolute power will bring about violence, murder and a host of other crimes. No one will want the Artifact for its intrinsic historical, cultural or financial value. It could lead to a devastating war to be the sole possessor of the Artifact. That is why it must be destroyed. No one man should ever hold that much power.”

“Would it be right to destroy such a unique historical Artifact?” Right Advisor asked. “Think about it for a moment. Good men and bad men have sought relics of the past. Good men seek these relics for the betterment of mankind. Bad men seek relics for their own personal agendas. Should the evil motives of a handful of men force us into destroying a priceless part of our heritage?”

“Perhaps,” Leader said calmly.

“So,” Right Advisor said, “let me see if I understand you correctly. If, during World War II, a group of archaeologists found the true Spear of Destiny, you believe that they would have been under moral obligation to destroy it immediately, in order to keep it from falling into the hands of Hitler.”

“Perhaps,” Leader replied.

“But there is nothing intrinsically powerful about the Spear!” Right Advisor exclaimed. “It is just an old relic surrounded by superstition and legend. It wields no more magical power than your walking stick.”

“That is because, in that case, the power is in the belief itself, not the relic,” Leader said. “Never underestimate the power of belief.” Again, Leader paused to sip his coffee before he continued. “However, in this case, there very well may be some kind of power in the Artifact itself. If that is the case, the Artifact would be powerful whether or not anyone believed in it. If the power is in the Artifact itself, which I have reason to believe it is, then it must be destroyed before it falls into the wrong hands.”

“Why would it need to be destroyed?” Right Advisor asked.

“Let’s say that a small country, known for friendly relations toward terrorist extremists, produced several nuclear bombs. Wouldn’t it be prudent to destroy those nuclear devices, before they fall into the hands of men who would use them to destroy countless lives, just so they could further their goals? Or should we just close our eyes to the existence of those weapons and hope for the best?”

After a moment, Right Advisor said, “I see your point.”

Leader smiled slightly and said, “Thank you. Now, back to the matter at hand. These rogue elements from The Brotherhood apparently decided to look for clues to the location of the Artifact. Such action was strictly forbidden. However, the allure of power of the Artifact was apparently too great for them to resist. So, now we are in the midst of a full investigation. I’m afraid the investigation will lead uncomfortably close to The Brotherhood and, by the way, too close to us. The Brotherhood is usually the prime suspect in cases involving real or perceived conspiracies. Can you imagine the problems we will face if they are implicated in all this?”

Right Advisor shifted uncomfortably and said, “Perhaps the investigation should be allowed to go cold. Thousands of crimes are never solved. The events that took place today could be set aside for more pressing cases. It will simply be filed away with all the other unsolved crimes.”

Leader smiled and said, “That would be improbable. The lead investigator assigned to this case is a brilliant and tenacious man. He was a student of the Keeper of the Secret. He may feel some additional obligation to the family to find the responsible party. Additionally, we do not know how much information the Keeper of the Secret told his wife. She may not be so easily persuaded to let the investigation die.”

“Are you suggesting she should be eliminated as well?” Right Advisor suggested.

“No,” Leader said. “Too many ‘accidents’ have taken place already. If she were to die of anything other than natural causes, the investigation could become too problematic for us to contain.”

“Then what would you suggest we do?” Right Advisor challenged.

Leader finished his coffee and poured himself another cup. After offering the other two men coffee, he set the pot down and said, “My dear Left Advisor, you have been uncharacteristically quiet this evening. Would you care to share your thoughts with us?”

Left Advisor smiled slightly and said, “I was just thinking about something that took place 25 years ago.”

Right Advisor interrupted and said, “Now is not the time for nostalgia.”

Left Advisor coolly said, “If you’ll allow me to continue, you will see that I am not merely taking a stroll down memory lane. As I was about to say, 25 years ago, a member of The Brotherhood was good friends with a shopkeeper. The two of them often met at the pub for drinks. On one particular occasion, the shopkeeper had too much to drink. He began to speak more freely. The shopkeeper began to tell an amazing story of an ancient Artifact that had been hidden for a long time. He told of its great power, of how the one who possessed it would be virtually unstoppable. He also told that there were some who sought the Artifact so they could use its power. When questioned as to who they were, he answered that it was a sect of monks. His friend told some of the leaders of his Lodge, and The Brotherhood has been seeking the Artifact ever since.”

“But we already know all that!” Right Advisor said in exasperation. “How does that help us with this situation?”

Left Advisor smiled slightly and said, “It illustrates the point that we’re not the only ones who are looking for the Artifact.”

“What would you suggest?” Leader asked sarcastically.

“The lead investigator’s supervisor is a member of The Brotherhood,” Left Advisor said. “I would suggest that we utilize this resource. The supervisor can plant evidence which would point the lead investigator in the direction of this sect of monks. After all, they would have had motive and opportunity as well.”

“But they would deny all knowledge of the break-ins,” Right Advisor said. “And we don’t have strong evidence. They would never be found guilty, and the case would remain open.”

“That would certainly be true if we intend for this to go to trial,” Left Advisor said.

“What do you mean?” Right Advisor asked.

“What if the supervisor convinced the lead investigator to ask the family not to press charges?” Left Advisor asked.

“Unlikely,” Right Advisor said.

“Maybe not as unlikely as you think,” Left Advisor said. “The Keeper of the Secret and his family are devout Catholics. And I am sure that they are aware of the various scandals that have rocked the Catholic Church in recent years. It’s obvious that some fringe elements of the Church are responsible for these break-ins. If this crime were to be made public, the Church as a whole would suffer as a consequence of the actions of the few men. Would it not be better for all concerned if the Church itself disciplined these men without bringing the police and the media into the situation?”

After a few moments, Right Advisor said, “That just might work. But what physical evidence do we have that can be planted?”

Left Advisor said, “A few years ago, a member of The Brotherhood had an opportunity to procure a Rosary belonging to a monk of the order. Their Seal is on the back of the crucifix on the Rosary. That one piece of evidence is a solid lead pointing directly to the monks.”

Leader said, “And since the office at the University is still sealed off by the police, there will be no problem getting someone in to plant, photograph and collect the evidence. Once it’s processed, the supervisor can talk to the lead investigator. Once the investigator speaks to the widow, the investigation will cease and the case will be closed.”

“I think the plan has merit,” said Right Advisor.

“Thank you,” Left Advisor said.

Leader said, “Then it is agreed. Left Advisor, you will contact the supervisor and set things in motion. Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Monday morning, Ian received a memo that his supervisor, Mr. Parker, wanted to see him immediately.

Ian entered his boss’s office. After the door was closed and Ian was seated, Mr. Parker said, “We have a delicate situation on our hands which will require a great deal of discretion.”

“And what might that be, sir?” Ian asked.

“It involves the break-ins at Professor Raymond’s home and office,” Mr. Parker said. “We have strong evidence to believe that a sect of monks was involved.”

“Monks?” Ian exclaimed. “What evidence is there to implicate a sect of monks?”

Mr. Parker removed several photos from the folder in front of him. He handed them to Ian and said, “There was a Rosary recovered from the office. We have determined the sect involved by the seal inscribed on the back of the cross.”

Ian studied the pictures closely for several moments before he said, “This could cause unwanted attention to fall on the Church!”

“Thus the need for discretion,” Mr. Parker replied. “Now, I have already spoken with the head of this order and presented him with the evidence. He was able to identify the specific monk by markings he saw on the cross. He has assured me that he will discipline this monk to the fullest extent. However, I need for you to talk to Mrs. Raymond and convince her not to press charges. Why punish the whole Church for the actions of one man?”

Ian nodded and said, “I’ll talk to Mrs. Raymond as soon as possible.”

Two hours later, Ian was in Maggie’s living room. He explained the evidence and told her that it appeared that one lone individual, without the knowledge or consent of the Church, had committed this crime.

“Are you trying to tell me that a man who had dedicated his life to the service of God did this?” Maggie asked incredulously. “What would a monk want with a bunch of CDs? What possible use would any information Patrick could have had be to a monk? This doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“Nonetheless,” Ian said, “the evidence is very clear.”

“Is it possible that the monk had come to visit Patrick at some point and lost his Rosary?” Maggie asked.

“Not likely,” Ian said. “Like you pointed out, what purpose would a monk have in visiting your late husband at the University? Two other things seem to make this unlikely as well. First of all, your late husband was a very neat and orderly man, from what I understand. The cleaning crew at the University said his office was one of the easiest for them to clean each evening. If the Rosary had been left there, he wouldn’t have left it on the floor, in plain sight, which is where it was found. Secondly, if the monk had gone to visit and left his Rosary there, he would have come back within a very short period of time to retrieve it.”

Maggie closed her eyes and shook her head. How she wished Patrick were here! He would be able to make sense of all this.

But Patrick was gone, and he was never coming back. She would have to deal with this on her own. At this moment, she felt she was alone in the world.

She opened her eyes and said, “Of course, I don’t want to do anything that might hurt the Church. As long as the man who did this is punished, I will be satisfied to consider the case closed.”

Ian thanked her and left.

However, there were several things that still puzzled Ian. Why had his supervisor taken it upon himself to examine the evidence? It wasn’t the supervisor’s case, it was Ian’s case. Why wasn’t Ian allowed to follow up on the lead of the Rosary? Why had the supervisor felt it necessary to follow the lead with the monks? Wasn’t Ian a competent enough investigator? Did the supervisor really need to do his job for him?

Ian was also troubled by the question Maggie had raised. Why would a man of God resort to theft? The CDs were not that valuable. The information contained on them was freely available. This did not make any sense.

Another question came to Ian’s mind: Why was there such a push to sweep all of this under the carpet? The more he thought about it, the more he felt that the supervisor had exaggerated the effect this crime would’ve had on the Church. After all, compared to some of the atrocities that had been committed in the past, this was a minor infraction of the law. Would this really have caused that much damage to the reputation of the Church? Would anyone outside of this area have even heard of or cared about this news story?

Something was just not right. Ian was too good of an investigator to let this go. Later that day, he read the report filed by his fellow officers. Sure enough, mention was made that the Rosary had been found. But why hadn’t anyone said anything about this to him? After all, this was a very unusual item to be found at a crime scene, and he was the lead investigator. Why would the officers keep this from him?

Ian questioned the officer who had found, photographed, and collected the evidence. The officer confirmed that he was the one who had found the Rosary. However, when asked why he didn’t mention it, he said that he didn’t think it was that important of an item.

Ian knew this officer very well. He knew that this officer would have realized the importance of this clue. It would have been unthinkable for this officer to have withheld this information from Ian.

He checked the evidence room, and there among the other evidence gathered was the Rosary. Everything checked out. But none of that made sense. There was more going on here than met the eye, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.