running away with yourself, Garrett. In the first place, the Darwinian theory of evolution has not yet been definitively accepted, or demonstrated, in particular as far as the human race is concerned. And nor have theories about the expansion of the universe. The mind of God is a labyrinthine mystery, Garrett, and our presumption to fathom it is ridiculous,’ the priest concluded. ‘But tell me, what did your father hope to find in the desert to support theories that, do pardon me, are debatable at the very least?’
‘I don’t know. I swear to you I do not know. But perhaps . . . there was a document . . . something that my father had discovered. Perhaps it led him first here to Rome and then into the heart of the desert. Can’t you see that only Father Antonelli has the answer?’
Father Boni did not let on how excited he felt. Could this ‘document’ be the bilingual text mentioned in Father Antonelli’s notes, so hurriedly stashed in the safe? What Desmond Garrett had found in the desert had provided him with the key to reading ‘The Book of Amon’!
He merely nodded. ‘I’ll try to help you, Garrett. I’ll ask to have Father Antonelli meet you, but on one condition. If you find out something about this text that your father discovered, you’ll tell me about it.’
‘I will,’ said Philip. ‘But I’m curious to know why this text interests you so much. You’re not an epigraphist, you’re a mathematician.’
‘That’s right,’ replied Father Boni. ‘You see, I suspect that that text may contain a mathematical formula of revolutionary importance, given that we’re dealing with such a remote era, in which it is supposed that mathematical knowledge was quite elementary.’
Philip was puzzled and felt tempted to push matters further, but he was certain that no more answers would be forthcoming. Boni was the type of man who gave nothing without getting something in return.
Philip said goodbye and went towards the door, but as he gripped the handle he turned around. ‘There is more,’ he said. ‘It seems that something inexplicable has been happening in the south-eastern quadrant of the Sahara. That’s where my father disappeared ten years ago.’ He left.
As he walked down the long, dim corridor, he crossed paths with a young priest heading in the opposite direction with a hurried step. He instinctively turned around and saw that the other man had turned as well. They exchanged glances for a moment, but neither spoke and each continued in his own direction.
The young priest paused a moment in front of Father Boni’s door, knocked lightly and entered.
‘Come in, Hogan,’ said Father Boni. ‘Any news?’
‘Yes,’ replied Father Hogan. ‘He’s in a rest home, outside a small town between Lazio and Abruzzo.’
‘Very good!’ exclaimed Father Boni. ‘And how is he?’
Father Hogan darkened. ‘He’s dying,’ he said.
Father Boni sprang to his feet. ‘Then we must leave immediately. I absolutely have to speak with him, before it is too late.’
Shortly afterwards a black car with Vatican number plates left through the San Damaso Gate, entered Spina del Borgo and disappeared down Lungotevere.
P HILIP DINED THAT EVENING at Giorgio Liverani’s house but his conversation was less than brilliant. He couldn’t get the meeting with Father Boni out of his mind. The priest’s explanations were strange and ambiguous and the story of the mathematical formula was not really credible. What was he truly looking for?
Philip went back to his room rather early and, although he felt quite tired, he picked up the book of his father’s that Colonel Jobert had given him.
The first step had not been difficult, but unless he managed to meet Father Antonelli, it led nowhere. He wondered whether the other clues followed on from the first. If that were the case, he had found himself on another road leading nowhere. He leafed idly through the pages. It seemed that the dedication to him on the
‘I don’t know. I swear to you I do not know. But perhaps . . . there was a document . . . something that my father had discovered. Perhaps it led him first here to Rome and then into the heart of the desert. Can’t you see that only Father Antonelli has the answer?’
Father Boni did not let on how excited he felt. Could this ‘document’ be the bilingual text mentioned in Father Antonelli’s notes, so hurriedly stashed in the safe? What Desmond Garrett had found in the desert had provided him with the key to reading ‘The Book of Amon’!
He merely nodded. ‘I’ll try to help you, Garrett. I’ll ask to have Father Antonelli meet you, but on one condition. If you find out something about this text that your father discovered, you’ll tell me about it.’
‘I will,’ said Philip. ‘But I’m curious to know why this text interests you so much. You’re not an epigraphist, you’re a mathematician.’
‘That’s right,’ replied Father Boni. ‘You see, I suspect that that text may contain a mathematical formula of revolutionary importance, given that we’re dealing with such a remote era, in which it is supposed that mathematical knowledge was quite elementary.’
Philip was puzzled and felt tempted to push matters further, but he was certain that no more answers would be forthcoming. Boni was the type of man who gave nothing without getting something in return.
Philip said goodbye and went towards the door, but as he gripped the handle he turned around. ‘There is more,’ he said. ‘It seems that something inexplicable has been happening in the south-eastern quadrant of the Sahara. That’s where my father disappeared ten years ago.’ He left.
As he walked down the long, dim corridor, he crossed paths with a young priest heading in the opposite direction with a hurried step. He instinctively turned around and saw that the other man had turned as well. They exchanged glances for a moment, but neither spoke and each continued in his own direction.
The young priest paused a moment in front of Father Boni’s door, knocked lightly and entered.
‘Come in, Hogan,’ said Father Boni. ‘Any news?’
‘Yes,’ replied Father Hogan. ‘He’s in a rest home, outside a small town between Lazio and Abruzzo.’
‘Very good!’ exclaimed Father Boni. ‘And how is he?’
Father Hogan darkened. ‘He’s dying,’ he said.
Father Boni sprang to his feet. ‘Then we must leave immediately. I absolutely have to speak with him, before it is too late.’
Shortly afterwards a black car with Vatican number plates left through the San Damaso Gate, entered Spina del Borgo and disappeared down Lungotevere.
P HILIP DINED THAT EVENING at Giorgio Liverani’s house but his conversation was less than brilliant. He couldn’t get the meeting with Father Boni out of his mind. The priest’s explanations were strange and ambiguous and the story of the mathematical formula was not really credible. What was he truly looking for?
Philip went back to his room rather early and, although he felt quite tired, he picked up the book of his father’s that Colonel Jobert had given him.
The first step had not been difficult, but unless he managed to meet Father Antonelli, it led nowhere. He wondered whether the other clues followed on from the first. If that were the case, he had found himself on another road leading nowhere. He leafed idly through the pages. It seemed that the dedication to him on the
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