The Shroud Codex - Jerome R. Corsi [72]
Castle laughed, appreciating that Gabrielli probably had a point. Castle thought a trip to Europe would be a welcome idea right about now. “When are you going to show your shroud handiwork to the world?”
“That’s what I called to ask,” Gabrielli answered. “When would you like me to show it?”
“How about next week? I’m planning a trip to Princeton tomorrow to meet one of Father Bartholomew’s advisors from when he was a physicist. Then comes the weekend. You’ll get more attention if you wait until the middle of next week. How about next Thursday? We will get coverage on Friday that will carry us through the weekend news cycle. That should give us the chance to get maximum news coverage worldwide.”
Gabrielli thought for a minute. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed. “Next Thursday it is. I will start preparing the press release right away.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Friday morning
Trip to Princeton University
Day 16
Dr. Castle had his limo swing by the Waldorf Towers to pick up Anne Cassidy. It was a beautiful fall day and Castle looked forward to the trip to see Dr. Horton Silver at Princeton University. He thought the ride would give him time to find out more about Anne and he looked forward to whatever insight Silver could give him about Paul Bartholomew’s career as a physicist.
Castle wore a camel-hair sport coat he particularly liked and a blue button-down oxford shirt with no tie. In the pocket of the sport coat he had neatly arranged his trademark four-point linen handkerchief. Anne looked fresh in a light blue linen dress suit, highlighted by an Italian designer scarf she tied around the open collar of her tweed dress jacket. Under the jacket she wore an attractive black silk shirt. Castle noted how well Anne’s outfit set off her blond hair and deep brown eyes. Once Anne was comfortably in the backseat of the car next to Castle, the driver set out for the Lincoln Tunnel and New Jersey.
“What did Paul have to say when you introduced yourself to him?” Castle finally asked as they headed down the New Jersey Turnpike.
“At first, he couldn’t believe it,” Anne said. “He thought I was his mother come back to life. He said I looked exactly like she did when she was my age.”
“Was he right?” Castle asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” Anne said with some hesitation. “When I was growing up, I never really knew much of anything about my real mother. I would ask my father to tell me about my mother, but he always put me off, saying something like ‘That was a long time ago.’ My father was not the most talkative man, especially when it came to personal matters.”
Castle probed. “Certainly you must have wanted to see photos of your mother. You must have had some idea about who she was.”
“Like I said, my father told me that my mother had died giving birth to me. He had one or two photos of them together that I remember seeing, but over the years even those photos got lost, probably in one of our many moves.”
“So you didn’t always live in Montreal?” Castle asked.
“No,” Anne said. “My father was a lawyer and he worked for the Canadian Pacific Railway. I grew up in western Canada, in Calgary, where the Canadian Pacific is headquartered. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that my father got a promotion by switching to the Canadian National Railway. That’s when we moved to Montreal, when I was in high school. The Canadian National is headquartered in Montreal.”
“Your father never remarried?”
“No, I think he was always very much in love with my mother. I can’t remember him even dating when I was a child. He was always there at home for me, playing the role of both mom and dad as I was growing up.”
Castle began to see strange reverse parallels in Anne’s life and the life of her half brother. Anne was told her mother died giving birth and Paul was told his father died in a work-related accident three months before he was born. Anne and Paul had the same mother, though Anne knew almost nothing