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Authors: Adrian D'Hagé
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change.’
‘I was brought up on the shores of Lake Atitlán, Senator.’ Ryan’s father had not invited her to be on first-name terms, and Aleta stuck to formality, although she was determined not to be intimidated. ‘Aldous Huxley once described it as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world – Lake Como with volcanoes.’
‘Huxley!’ Senator Crosier snorted. ‘An atheist, or good as, damn it! Got mixed up with the Hindus and one of their mystical sects. Ryan tells me you’re a Catholic, though Weizman sounds like a Jewish name. Are you religious? Do you fear the Lord?’
The rapid-fire questioning had taken Aleta aback, and she hesitated, collecting her thoughts, before meeting the senator head on. ‘My father’s parents were both Jewish, Senator, and they both died in the Holocaust. My father escaped from the Mauthausen concentration camp in the back of a laundry truck when he was only ten, along with my aunt Rebekkah, who was just eight. Rebekkah drowned when the freighter they were escaping in collided with another ship in the Bosphorus.’
‘That doesn’t explain why you’re a Catholic, though, does it?’ the Senator demanded. ‘We’ve only ever had one Catholic in theWhite House, you know, and he was a Democrat – my father was astounded when the American people voted for him.’
Aleta smiled disarmingly. ‘My father was Jewish, Senator, but he owed his life to the Papal Nuncio in Istanbul, Archbishop Angelo Roncalli, who later became Pope John XXIII. Roncalli used to sit up until three in the morning forging Catholic baptism certificates for Jewish children.’ Aleta fought back tears. ‘Papa used to say that Roncalli was everything a priest should be, and he never forgot Roncalli’s kindness. My grandparents both had great faith, but I think Papa practised his faith as a Catholic out of respect for Roncalli.’
The senator had grunted and got up from his chair. As she followed her future father-in-law back into the grand New England mansion, Aleta reminded herself she wasn’t marrying Ryan’s family.
It was a pity Ryan’s father had not pressed her further on her own faith, Aleta thought, as the cab driver turned on to the E Street expressway. If he had, Aleta would have felt compelled to tell the cranky, one-eyed old bastard that she had long ago abandoned any notion of a wrathful God and the Christians’ claim that they were on the only true path. And that, she thought with a touch of bitterness, might have ended it all. Then she washed her thoughts down an imaginary drain. She had promised to give her marriage one last try.
Once they’d settled into a palatial suite at the hotel, Aleta’s thoughts again returned to the mysterious crystal skulls. ‘Is thereany chance we can go home via Indiana? It would be a pity not to see the Mitchell-Hedges skull while we’re here.’
‘We’ve had this conversation already, Aleta,’ Ryan snapped. ‘Crystal skulls are on a par with voodoo, witchcraft and false prophets, and the Bible is very clear on this – we dabble with them at our peril.’ Ryan took out his old King James Bible from his attaché case and opened it at Paul’s second letter to Timothy. ‘“For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, they will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” It can’t be clearer than that, can it?’
Aleta sighed inwardly. ‘Okay, well, why don’t we find a nice restaurant and have a quiet dinner downtown?’ She reached for the glossy guide to the capital sitting on the coffee table. ‘Some Chesapeake Bay chowder and a bottle of champagne to celebrate the trip?’
‘You need to watch your drinking, Aleta,’ Ryan warned.
Aleta took a deep breath. ‘I’ll take that as a no?’
‘I need to prepare for tomorrow’s conference. The pastor and his team have done a lot of work on the Israel–Palestine problem, and the least we can do is make sure we’re across the
‘I was brought up on the shores of Lake Atitlán, Senator.’ Ryan’s father had not invited her to be on first-name terms, and Aleta stuck to formality, although she was determined not to be intimidated. ‘Aldous Huxley once described it as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world – Lake Como with volcanoes.’
‘Huxley!’ Senator Crosier snorted. ‘An atheist, or good as, damn it! Got mixed up with the Hindus and one of their mystical sects. Ryan tells me you’re a Catholic, though Weizman sounds like a Jewish name. Are you religious? Do you fear the Lord?’
The rapid-fire questioning had taken Aleta aback, and she hesitated, collecting her thoughts, before meeting the senator head on. ‘My father’s parents were both Jewish, Senator, and they both died in the Holocaust. My father escaped from the Mauthausen concentration camp in the back of a laundry truck when he was only ten, along with my aunt Rebekkah, who was just eight. Rebekkah drowned when the freighter they were escaping in collided with another ship in the Bosphorus.’
‘That doesn’t explain why you’re a Catholic, though, does it?’ the Senator demanded. ‘We’ve only ever had one Catholic in theWhite House, you know, and he was a Democrat – my father was astounded when the American people voted for him.’
Aleta smiled disarmingly. ‘My father was Jewish, Senator, but he owed his life to the Papal Nuncio in Istanbul, Archbishop Angelo Roncalli, who later became Pope John XXIII. Roncalli used to sit up until three in the morning forging Catholic baptism certificates for Jewish children.’ Aleta fought back tears. ‘Papa used to say that Roncalli was everything a priest should be, and he never forgot Roncalli’s kindness. My grandparents both had great faith, but I think Papa practised his faith as a Catholic out of respect for Roncalli.’
The senator had grunted and got up from his chair. As she followed her future father-in-law back into the grand New England mansion, Aleta reminded herself she wasn’t marrying Ryan’s family.
It was a pity Ryan’s father had not pressed her further on her own faith, Aleta thought, as the cab driver turned on to the E Street expressway. If he had, Aleta would have felt compelled to tell the cranky, one-eyed old bastard that she had long ago abandoned any notion of a wrathful God and the Christians’ claim that they were on the only true path. And that, she thought with a touch of bitterness, might have ended it all. Then she washed her thoughts down an imaginary drain. She had promised to give her marriage one last try.
Once they’d settled into a palatial suite at the hotel, Aleta’s thoughts again returned to the mysterious crystal skulls. ‘Is thereany chance we can go home via Indiana? It would be a pity not to see the Mitchell-Hedges skull while we’re here.’
‘We’ve had this conversation already, Aleta,’ Ryan snapped. ‘Crystal skulls are on a par with voodoo, witchcraft and false prophets, and the Bible is very clear on this – we dabble with them at our peril.’ Ryan took out his old King James Bible from his attaché case and opened it at Paul’s second letter to Timothy. ‘“For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, they will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” It can’t be clearer than that, can it?’
Aleta sighed inwardly. ‘Okay, well, why don’t we find a nice restaurant and have a quiet dinner downtown?’ She reached for the glossy guide to the capital sitting on the coffee table. ‘Some Chesapeake Bay chowder and a bottle of champagne to celebrate the trip?’
‘You need to watch your drinking, Aleta,’ Ryan warned.
Aleta took a deep breath. ‘I’ll take that as a no?’
‘I need to prepare for tomorrow’s conference. The pastor and his team have done a lot of work on the Israel–Palestine problem, and the least we can do is make sure we’re across the
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