Monsignor Michael Manzi sat in the back of a taxi and gazed at the passing Virginian mixture of residential and commercial properties. He had flown in to Dulles International from Rome and was now speeding toward Washington DC.
Manzi, an exorcist for the catholic church, was on a different mission this time. Authorised by His Eminence-the Pope himself-he had to find Christ.
He had read the reports of some guy claiming to be the Second Coming, but had dismissed it as nonsense. Cardinal Canale, the man who gave him his orders, had asked him to check it out.
One thing he couldn’t figure out was why the Vatican knew the exact place to send him. He had been told that the so-called Christ was on his way to the capital. How did they know?
He yawned. Once he had exposed the charlatan, he would visit his family in Baltimore and have some time off, thought Michael. The past few months had been hectic; he had never been involved in so many exorcisms.
“You here for some convention Father?” The cab driver asked as the towers of down-town Washington raced toward them.
“Nah, I’m here for something else.”
“You’re from the States then?”
“Yes, I’m from Baltimore.”
“Do you follow the Ravens?”
“Oh yes, that’s my team. I keep up with the scores.”
They crossed the Potomac and pulled up in front of the Days Inn Hotel on Connecticut Avenue. A rare privilege, thought Michael, who normally stayed in priest houses or rectories.
He checked-in and then took the elevator to his room on the third floor. His mobile phone rang as he pushed the door open; so, he dropped his suitcase and flopped into a seat by the window. He pulled out the phone and gazing at the picture of Cardinal Canale he pressed the accept button.
“I take it you’re settled into your hotel room Michael?” Canale asked in his Italian accented English.
“Yes, Thank you. I’m just in.”
“Michael, I have news that will help you on your quest.”
“Okay, Your Eminence.”
“While you were flying over the Atlantic the person who was claiming to be Christ disappeared.
The two men he was travelling with are staying at the Best Western motel on North Washington Street Alexandria outside Washington. Their names are Matthew Wilson and David de Longford.”
“Alright,” said Michael wondering where Canale received the information from. “I’ll check it out.”
“Hire a car, you’ll need one. Good bye my boy.” Canale said as the phone screen flicked to a picture of falling leaves.
Don't know about hiring a car, thought Michael as he threw the mobile on the bed then rose and pulled off his coat. He then opened his suitcase and unpacked a few items before heading into the wash room for a rejuvenating shower.
The next day Michael stood at the reception after an early breakfast.
“Can you book me a cab please?” He asked the Asian assistant.
“Certainly sir, please take a seat,” answered the young woman.
The early start would hopefully catch the two men before they left, thought Michael as he gazed 36
at the passing traffic through the large window behind the seats.
A grey car came to a halt by the front door.
“That’s your cab,” said the receptionist.
A hazy sun shone on the freeway as the taxi sped along against the flow of the other carriageway busy with cars heading into Washington.
The old town of Alexandria jumped up and ran toward the cab which had left the freeway.
“Here we are, sir,” said the driver as they pulled up in front of the Best Western motel.
“Thank you,” said Michael paying the man.
He then strode into reception.
“I have friends staying here. Can you tell me which room they’re in?” He asked the bearded assistant.
“What’s their names, sir?”
“Wilson and de Longford.”
The man clicked a mouse and then, staring at the computer screen, said: “Room 237.”
Michael climbed the stairs and knocked on number 237.
A young man with dark brown hair opened the door.
“Yes, can I help you?” Matthew asked.
Michael showed his Vatican ID card. “Could I have a word with you?”
“Oh! Then you’d better come in,” said Matthew opening the door for Michael to pass through.
David, who was sitting by the table staring at his mobile, looked up as the priest entered the room.
“Who’s this Mattie?”
“I’m Monsignor Michael Manzi,” said Michael unsettled by David’s appearance.
“What is it you want, Father?” asked Matthew flicking on the kettle.
“Well, I was hoping there were three of you here!”
David tapped his phone screen. “What’s your interest?”
“Okay, I’ll come straight to the point.”
“Coffee?” Matthew asked holding up a cup.
“Yes, please,” said Michael sitting in a chair by the table. “The Vatican sent me to investigate the reports that Christ is here among us again and in particular, travelling with you two gentlemen.”
Matthew looked at David as he carried a cup of steaming coffee over to where the priest was sitting.
“Well, the man that was travelling with us has left, in fact he disappeared when we were checking in here the other night.” David said accepting a cup from Matthew.
“What do you mean: disappeared?” Michael asked taking a sip from his cup.
“The three of us left the car, but only two, Mattie and myself, entered the reception downstairs.”
Michael sat back in his chair and gazed out of the window. “What could have happened?”
“We rushed back outside, but there was no sign of Joshua anywhere,” said Matthew as he sat down on one bed.
“You called him Joshua. Was he, for want of a better phrase, the real article?”
“We’ve seen him heal, and cast out unclean spirits,” said David.
“I see,” said Michael stroking his chin.
“Oh, and one more thing,” said Matthew looking at David, “he has the Book with Seven Seals!”
“What!” said Michael jumping up.
“Yeah, but it’s been stolen.” David added.
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