‘St John’s Gospel, chapter nineteen. But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced His side, and forthwith came there out blood and water. And he that saw it bare record, and his record is true: and he knoweth that he saith true, that ye might believe. For these things were done, that the scripture should be fulfilled, a bone of him shall not be broken.’
I suppose my mouth must have fallen open. I closed it tightly. I was remembering the book I had been reading in Cafe Delicious. The Spear of Destiny. And with a vast sense of astonishment I remembered my fugitive sensation of having met Narek before.
Jon was watching me carefully. ‘Corinna? What is it? You look as though you’re having a light-globe moment.’
‘I really am. And now I finally understand something which has been bothering me all along: why on earth our little friend should have chosen my apartment to burgle after he’d drawn a blank at Dion Monk’s.’
‘I was wondering that myself. Why you indeed?’
‘When we caught him and I finally saw his face, I had the strangest feeling I’d met him before. And I think I have. I was sitting in Cafe Delicious, reading a book. Ever since Dion Monk started doing his biblical research, I thought I’d do some background reading myself – just so I could understand what he was talking about, more than anything. So I was reading a book called The Spear of Destiny in the cafe, and I had the sense that somebody was staring at me. I had a glimpse of him as he was leaving, but I didn’t make the connection with the ninja in my apartment. I mean, why would I? But it was Narek. I’m certain of it now. He saw me reading the book, so he thought I must have it if Dion Monk didn’t.’
‘That would make sense.’
‘But why does he think either of us would have it?’
‘There you have me, unless –’ He paused, and looked at the sky for a moment. ‘The Spear is in Vienna. Hitler stole it during his rise to power, because he thought he was the reincarnation of Klingsor, from the medieval German epic poem Parzival, later commemorated in one of Wagner’s little pantomimes. The spear is supposed to bring victory to whoever holds it.’
I face-palmed myself. ‘Yes, all right. And the Armenians are technically Christians, even though they’re also an organised crime gang.’
‘Though hardly in Hitler’s class,’ Jon interposed.
‘And they think that, like Geordie, it would be a useful addition to their arsenal in this turf war with their neighbours. But that doesn’t get me any closer to understanding why on earth they should think we’ve got it here.’
Jon clasped his hands in front of him and stretched. There was something catlike about him, I realised. A large, friendly cat, with perilous claws. ‘Corinna, what you need to recall about the Armenians is that they’ve been Christians a lot longer than we have. They see themselves as the Real Thing, along with the Copts and the Antiochians. As far as they’re concerned, the rest of us are people who hopped on board for the ride when the Byzantines instituted a hostile takeover and made the Christian Church into Salvation Incorporated, which was the brainchild of the Emperor Constantine. And one of the artefacts Constantine borrowed in order to consolidate his reign as emperor of the Romans was the spear of Longinus. Ever since then, everyone who was anyone wanted it. And whoever had it prospered.’
‘Except Hitler?’
‘He had a pretty good run with it. Now whether the spear in the Hofburg in Vienna is the same one is another question. But that doesn’t really matter for our purposes. All that matters is that the Armenians could quite easily believe in it. And that would account for the multiple burglaries of Insula.’
‘It would?’ I said doubtfully, as Horatio leapt onto the table and sniffed at my laptop. Jon leant close and held out his hand. Horatio gave a little mew of recognition, and touched his nose to Jon’s hand on the screen. ‘I can’t think offhand of anyone less likely to be holding a sacred relic.’
‘They may think Dion Monk took it from the Third Reich in the last days of Hitler.’
‘WHAT?!’
Horatio disappeared, at speed, with a mad scuttle of claws on the floor. I stared, utterly stupefied, at the smiling face on the screen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, THE TEMPEST, ACT 2, SCENE 2
Gobsmacked doesn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling. It was as though he had calmly announced that we were going to be invaded any day now by battalions of flying beetroot. Steady breathing, Corinna. I seemed to hear Meroe’s voice telling me to be centred and calm.
‘All right, Jon,’ I managed. ‘I am assuming you haven’t gone troppo. After all, why should you? You’re used to the tropics. So you are telling me this on the level. Not that I assume Dion Monk actually has this Heavenly Spear of Destiny or whatever it is.’
‘I don’t think so either. I think we would all be living far more resplendent lives if he had it. At the very least we should have taken over Southbank by now and be looking speculatively down St Kilda Road.’
‘Jon, how could our very own Dion Monk – whom we love dearly – even be a slightly credible suspect for this? I imagine criminals are ridiculously superstitious, sure. But why him? Oh, hang on.’ I paused, thinking hard. ‘One thing I forgot to mention about our dear Professor is that he’s been working on a new Dead Sea Scroll, or something like that. Is there any conceivable way the Armenians might know about that?’
Horatio sat down, still with ruffled fur, next to my feet. I reached down and stroked his head behind his ears. He began to purr, clearly feeling that the loud noise I had emitted might have been only a regrettable and never-to-be-repeated obtrusion.
Jon nodded. ‘I think it highly possible. Who knows what they think is important? They might even be trafficking in holy relics.’
And that was true enough. ‘But I don’t see how he could have any connection with these people. How would they even know about him?’
Jon’s eyes twinkled. ‘What about his former students? Can’t you imagine some quiet, studious little Armenian sitting up the back of the lecture theatre busily taking notes?’
I considered this. ‘He must have taught thousands of students. Tens of thousands. Most of them he won’t even remember, unless they spoke up in class. And one day he makes a casual remark about this spear, someone leaps to a conclusion, and ten years later …’
‘Our bright little guy or girl tells the Godfather that this retired professor has the Spear of Destiny.’
We stared at each other. It was possible. ‘No, wait. You were saying it’s in Vienna?’
‘That’s right. I think it spent most of the war in Nuremberg. Near the end, in 1945, it was supposed to be removed to a safer place, but Allied bombers destroyed the underground bunker. The Allies discovered it and brought it back to Vienna, where it is today – so far as we know.’
‘Meaning there’s still a possibility it was stolen in transit and a fake was handed back to the Austrians. But I still don’t see how Dion Monk fits in to any of this. It’s ancient history now, surely?’
Jon leant back and sipped his tea. ‘He certainly knows Vienna well; he and I have swapped travellers’ tales about Austria. He was born in Wales, he went to Cambridge University, he made his way out to Australia, became an academic … and in one of his lectures he says something quite innocent which conveys the impression that he has seen this spear. Someone does the maths and works out he came to Australia to live after the war, and …’