Read Online The Sacred Bones by Michael Byrnes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Byrnes
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grabbed a crowbar off the dolly.
11.
The wooden shipping crate was a sturdy, four-foot cube with a Eurostar Italia logo plastered on its lid. Conte worked one side of the lid, jerking the pry bar up and down, while Donovan steadied it to prevent it from flying off and damaging the new lab equipment.
Charlotte noticed that Father Donovan's hands were shaking. If she hadn't known any better, she'd have sworn that he suspected the container might be empty. Then again, maybe this character, Conte, had unnerved him.
Less than thirty seconds later Conte stripped the lid away. Father Donovan gently placed it on the floor.
Glancing briefly at the shipping label, Giovanni Bersei couldn't help but notice the port of origin printed in large bold print: STAZIONE BARI . Bari was an eastern coastal city whose lure to tourists was twofold: its claim to owning the bones of Saint Nicholas and its spectacular seaport where wealthy Italians docked their oversized yachts.
The crate's interior was covered by thick layers of bubble wrap. "We need to get these two side panels off," Conte said, claiming one and pointing to the side closer to Bersei.
Bersei stepped forward and lifted the panel easily up and out along grooved tracks, exposing more of what lay inside.
Charlotte moved in closer.
"Don't be shy, just tear it away," Conte instructed both scientists, pointing at the thick layers of bubble wrap.
As her hands peeled back the last layer of wrapping, Charlotte's fingers ran over a hard flat surface, cold and slick. She glimpsed blue-tinted plastic.
Seconds later a rectangular surface shrouded in the blue material was revealed.
Rubbing his hands together, Donovan looked up at them. "We'll get it over to the workstation," he said to Bersei. "Dr. Hennesey, could you please set that rubber matting on top of the table?" He pointed to a thick rubber sheet sitting on a nearby counter.
"Sure." She noticed that Donovan seemed visibly relieved. She laid the sheet out on the nearest workstation while Conte wheeled the dolly closer.
Following Conte's cue, Bersei crouched down, cupping his hands round the corners. It felt very solid. "How heavy is this?"
Conte's hard eyes met his. "Thirty-three kilos. Lift on three." The mercenary counted down and they manhandled it up.
Halfway into the lift, Bersei's fingers suddenly slipped along the plastic cover, and the load jerked sharply to one side. Charlotte lurched forward to help, but Conte was able to thrust his arm out just in time to stabilize it.
Conte glared at Bersei. "Not good, Doc," he chastised in Italian. "Let's keep it together." He nodded to the scientist to continue, and they shifted it over onto the matting.
"If there's nothing else you need," Conte grumbled, "I need a drink."
"That'll be all, Mr. Conte," Donovan replied, trying his best to be cordial. "Thank you."
Before leaving, Conte turned to face the priest with his back to the scientists. He pointed to his left eye, then at Father Donovan. The message was clear. Remember, I'll be watching you . Then he was gone.
Turning back to the scientists, small beads of perspiration had welled up on Donovan's forehead. "That was the hard part. Now let's get this plastic off."
"Just a moment," Bersei said. "I think we should clean this up before we unwrap that." He pointed to the empty crate sitting on the dolly and the splintered mess surrounding it.
"Of course," Donovan hesitantly agreed. He'd waited this long...
Ten minutes later, the lab was once again tidy, the dolly and neatly packed debris rolled out into the corridor; the floor swept, vacuumed, and wiped with a damp mop.
Bersei disappeared into the rear room. Within seconds, he reemerged holding a newly pressed lab coat. He handed it to Donovan. "You should wear this."
Putting it on, the coat hung awkwardly on Donovan's frame.
"And these," Charlotte passed over a box of latex gloves. "I hate them too, but we don't want to contaminate the specimen."
Each scientist took a
11.
The wooden shipping crate was a sturdy, four-foot cube with a Eurostar Italia logo plastered on its lid. Conte worked one side of the lid, jerking the pry bar up and down, while Donovan steadied it to prevent it from flying off and damaging the new lab equipment.
Charlotte noticed that Father Donovan's hands were shaking. If she hadn't known any better, she'd have sworn that he suspected the container might be empty. Then again, maybe this character, Conte, had unnerved him.
Less than thirty seconds later Conte stripped the lid away. Father Donovan gently placed it on the floor.
Glancing briefly at the shipping label, Giovanni Bersei couldn't help but notice the port of origin printed in large bold print: STAZIONE BARI . Bari was an eastern coastal city whose lure to tourists was twofold: its claim to owning the bones of Saint Nicholas and its spectacular seaport where wealthy Italians docked their oversized yachts.
The crate's interior was covered by thick layers of bubble wrap. "We need to get these two side panels off," Conte said, claiming one and pointing to the side closer to Bersei.
Bersei stepped forward and lifted the panel easily up and out along grooved tracks, exposing more of what lay inside.
Charlotte moved in closer.
"Don't be shy, just tear it away," Conte instructed both scientists, pointing at the thick layers of bubble wrap.
As her hands peeled back the last layer of wrapping, Charlotte's fingers ran over a hard flat surface, cold and slick. She glimpsed blue-tinted plastic.
Seconds later a rectangular surface shrouded in the blue material was revealed.
Rubbing his hands together, Donovan looked up at them. "We'll get it over to the workstation," he said to Bersei. "Dr. Hennesey, could you please set that rubber matting on top of the table?" He pointed to a thick rubber sheet sitting on a nearby counter.
"Sure." She noticed that Donovan seemed visibly relieved. She laid the sheet out on the nearest workstation while Conte wheeled the dolly closer.
Following Conte's cue, Bersei crouched down, cupping his hands round the corners. It felt very solid. "How heavy is this?"
Conte's hard eyes met his. "Thirty-three kilos. Lift on three." The mercenary counted down and they manhandled it up.
Halfway into the lift, Bersei's fingers suddenly slipped along the plastic cover, and the load jerked sharply to one side. Charlotte lurched forward to help, but Conte was able to thrust his arm out just in time to stabilize it.
Conte glared at Bersei. "Not good, Doc," he chastised in Italian. "Let's keep it together." He nodded to the scientist to continue, and they shifted it over onto the matting.
"If there's nothing else you need," Conte grumbled, "I need a drink."
"That'll be all, Mr. Conte," Donovan replied, trying his best to be cordial. "Thank you."
Before leaving, Conte turned to face the priest with his back to the scientists. He pointed to his left eye, then at Father Donovan. The message was clear. Remember, I'll be watching you . Then he was gone.
Turning back to the scientists, small beads of perspiration had welled up on Donovan's forehead. "That was the hard part. Now let's get this plastic off."
"Just a moment," Bersei said. "I think we should clean this up before we unwrap that." He pointed to the empty crate sitting on the dolly and the splintered mess surrounding it.
"Of course," Donovan hesitantly agreed. He'd waited this long...
Ten minutes later, the lab was once again tidy, the dolly and neatly packed debris rolled out into the corridor; the floor swept, vacuumed, and wiped with a damp mop.
Bersei disappeared into the rear room. Within seconds, he reemerged holding a newly pressed lab coat. He handed it to Donovan. "You should wear this."
Putting it on, the coat hung awkwardly on Donovan's frame.
"And these," Charlotte passed over a box of latex gloves. "I hate them too, but we don't want to contaminate the specimen."
Each scientist took a
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