The Source - Michael Cordy [27]
The priest held out his hand. 'Father General Leonardo Torino. Yes, I was at the Beinecke. When I learnt what had happened to your wife I had to approach you about her work.' He paused. 'May I explain? Or would you prefer me to leave you alone?'
Since Lauren's lecture, many academics, journalists and general Voynich fanatics had crawled out of the woodwork, demanding to know if she would recover, and when she expected to publish the complete translation with full supporting documentation. Some had even camped outside his house for a few days. He had changed his phone number to stop the calls, but still had to sift through a vast pile of mail each morning. Two days ago Bob Knight had demanded access to the files and notes Lauren had stored at home so that the university could validate and complete her work. Ross had refused, telling him that she, and no one else, would finish it. It angered him that people were waiting like vultures for her to die, desperate to pick over her discoveries. 'You came about the Voynich?'
'Yes.'
'What's your interest in it?'
'It's very simple. I'm the Superior General of the Society of Jesus, and Vatican records show that a priest from my order, a Jesuit, wrote the Voynich Cipher Manuscript more than four centuries ago, but we haven't yet been able to translate his text or understand his illustrations. And although the original manuscript is here at Yale, we feel possessive of it. The story may only be a simple allegory, a parable, but we regard the Voynich as a valuable document created by one of our own and we want to reclaim its meaning. When we learnt of your wife's translation I approached her and suggested we combine our records with her excellent work to complete it. She declined, said she had problems with our making conditions on what she could publish. I was disappointed but respected her wishes. I kept the offer open.' A pause. 'Then I learnt of her injury and discreetly followed her progress. When my work brought me back to America I decided to make time in my schedule to visit you. It's hard to explain, but my order feels indebted to and responsible for her. We want her to be rewarded for her service to the Church, in this world and the next. We will, of course, pray for her and ensure she takes her place in Heaven.'
The word 'ensure' annoyed Ross. 'That's kind of you – but how do you know you hold the keys to Heaven?' Something flickered in the priest's dark eyes – hurt or possibly anger – then was gone. 'No offence intended,' he added. 'It's just that I'd prefer your prayers to help Lauren in this world rather than prepare her for the next.'
'We can help her in this world. That's why I'm here. Our scholars are confident of completing the manuscript in due course, but with your wife's notes they could do it in a fraction of the time. Out of respect for her scholarship and wishes, we'd waive all conditions of publication. Naturally we'd give her full credit for the translation and compensate her financially – whether she recovers or not. The Holy Mother Church has significant resources and we'll do whatever's necessary – financial or otherwise – to help you both through this testing time.'
'You just want access to her notes?'
'Yes. Digital copies will suffice. As a matter of interest, do you know if they contain any mention of something called the "source" or its Latin equivalent, "radix"?'
He shook his head. 'I couldn't tell you. My wife kept her cards – and her notes – pretty close to her chest. Why?'
The priest made a dismissive gesture. 'It's not important. What is important is that her notes would allow us to finish translating the manuscript, and give her the recognition she deserves. I don't expect an answer now but please give it some thought.' He pulled out a card, handed it to Ross, then checked his watch. 'I have some business in New York tomorrow morning but must return to Rome in the evening. I'd be grateful if I could visit you before then to answer any questions. I want you to feel comfortable with entrusting