The eye of the lion

The first glass door opened silently and Cardinal Voquessi entered the narrow chamber. His grey eyes betrayed his tension and impatience while a powerful blast of air was injected into the entrance cubicle and extracted almost at the same time, cleansing it of dust and impurities. He was wearing a surgical mask and a large gown and sterile gloves, which made him feel terribly uncomfortable and even almost naked. Finally the cleaning cycle ended and the second glass door opened allowing him access to the interior of the laboratory. He strode quickly and resolutely across the immaculate corridor, passing two men also dressed in surgical suits, whose greeting he ignored, and arrived at a large glass cubicle.

From inside, Dr. Vajpayee saw him arrive. He was surrounded by sophisticated computer equipment and plasma screens which were displaying complex DNA sequences. He looked at him with reddened eyes and the pallid look of someone who has not had a good night’s sleep in days.

The Cardinal entered and looked at him expectantly. Vajpayee nodded towards the screen.

“I don’t understand,” he said, looking at Voquessi with a frustrated expression. “It’s impossible.”

“What’s impossible, Doctor?” asked the Cardinal, his voice hoarse with impatience.

He had almost killed himself to get there when the Indian had called him on the phone to ask him to come immediately, and now here he was, totally calm. The doctor stared at him.

“I’ve done all the tests four times and the result is the same...!” he replied, pointing at the screen which was showing a double helix of DNA slowly spinning around.

“There’s no mistake.”

Voquessi took a step towards the doctor and growled,

“What the hell are you talking about? Explain yourself!!”

“The hair....”

“What about it?”

Vajpayee nodded and then answered,

“It’s more than two thousand years old...!”

The Cardinal’s face lit up.

“You mean it’s authentic?”

Vajpayee looked at him.

“It could be... but that’s not what I don’t understand.”

Voquessi looked at him in silence. Questioning.

“I can’t explain it, but its molecular structure and the DNA are intact.” There was a kind of distress in his eyes as he looked again at Voquessi.

“It could have been pulled out today...” he murmured.

Slowly, Voquessi’s hand rose to his chest, and there, beneath the surgical gown, he vehemently grasped his gold crucifix.

His hand was trembling.