The Shroud Codex - Jerome R. Corsi [50]
Castle pored carefully over Bartholomew’s chart and studied the monitors in the room measuring the priest’s circulation and heartbeat. Looking at the priest, he was surprised at how much color had returned to Bartholomew’s face. When Castle had finally left the ER on Sunday night, Bartholomew had looked as white as a ghost. He thought Bartholomew would have been kept in the burn unit for several days.
Next, the psychiatrist lifted the covers back and examined the bandages on Bartholomew’s body. Bartholomew looked like a mummy, wrapped in gauze. Using surgical scissors, Castle carefully cut the gauze at Bartholomew’s chest so he could peel away the dressings and examine a small sample of the wounds.
Morelli and Anne waited silently for his verdict.
“From what I can see, Father Bartholomew is recovering faster than I ever imagined possible,” Castle said, with obvious relief in his voice. “I don’t claim to understand it, but the bleeding has stopped. His wounds appear to have closed and clotted, much more than I would have expected from the trauma I saw last night. Wounds this severe could easily have killed him. My biggest concern was that he would go into shock, but after the injuries stopped happening, he calmed down and his vital signs improved almost immediately.”
“You know what these wounds are, don’t you?” Morelli asked knowingly.
Castle suspected he knew what the priest was going to tell him, but he decided to let the priest go ahead and make the point.
“No, Father Morelli, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
“These are the wounds Christ suffered when he was scourged at the pillar,” Morelli said without any evident emotion. “Father Bartholomew is continuing to experience Christ’s passion and death. I’m confident that if we take a close look at the wounds and examine them against the scourge wounds on the Shroud of Turin, we are going to find out they are identical.”
That was pretty much what Castle expected Father Morelli would say. The same thought had occurred to Castle on Sunday.
“Well, I suspect you will have the opportunity to prove that point,” Castle said quietly. “I have asked Dr. Lin to take CT scans and run an MRI on Father Bartholomew this afternoon. I doubt if I will have any results today, but Archbishop Duncan called me at six-thirty this morning. He wants results, too, and I believe he wants to introduce us to an expert on the Shroud of Turin recommended by the Vatican. I suggest we all get together tomorrow morning at ten in my office.”
“What about me?” Anne asked. “Can I attend as well?”
“Yes, you’re part of the family,” Castle conceded. “Father Morelli can give you the address. But tonight I insist you find a hotel room and get some sleep. Security around Father Bartholomew will be tighter from now on, I assure you. As I said before, nobody will be permitted to stay overnight with him tonight. Understood?”
“Yes,” Father Morelli and Anne both said.
“Good,” Castle said firmly.
Then, turning to Father Morelli, Castle gave further instructions. “Tonight I suggest you return to the rectory at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and get some sleep. The archbishop would probably appreciate a report from you in person, given all that has happened since Sunday.”
“You’re right,” Father Morelli said. “I’ll make sure Anne gets a hotel room and we will coordinate to be at your office tomorrow morning.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thursday morning
Dr. Stephen Castle’s office, New York City
Day 15
When he entered the conference room, Castle found the group had assembled. At the end of the room by the windows looking out on Central Park, Archbishop