“She better not have a quick recovery,” Junior growled. “Book us those two seats.”
On the other end of the phone, FBI agent Susan White, who had been sitting in the convent for several hours, waiting for the call, gave a thumbs-up to Rich Meyers.
Then she began to write, “Brother Stanislas and Brother Casper…”
Marge and Charlie were marvelous, Sterling thought, smiling from ear to ear as he realized that the first phase of the plan had worked perfectly.
Marissa, we’re getting there, he thought.
“Good night, Marissa,” Denise said, as she tucked her daughter in and bent down to give her a kiss.
“Good night, Mommy. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow. It’s my birthday and it’s Christmas Eve.”
“We’re going to have lots of fun,” Denise promised as she turned out the light.
Downstairs, she joined Roy, who was drying the pots. “Everybody bedded down?” he asked cheerfully.
“Yes, but it’s strange. I thought Marissa would be upset tonight, but she seems to be excited and happy, as though she’s expecting a miracle, as though Billy and Nor will be here tomorrow.”
“Then she’s in for a terrible letdown,” Roy said mournfully as he folded the dish towel.
“I got them everything they need,” Charlie fretted. “The monks’ habits, the sandals, the prayer books, the suitcases-real beat-up ones, like the brothers took the vow of poverty and meant it.”
He and Marge and Sterling were sitting in the Santolis’ living room, all of them tense with concern that the Badgett brothers would smell a rat before the pilgrimage charter plane took off.
“How about their passports?” Marge asked. “Any chance of a glitch with them?”
“First-rate forgeries,” Charlie said. “They took care of that themselves.”
“How were they getting to Teterboro?” Marge asked nervously. “I hope they didn’t go in that showy limo.”
“They were having the limo drive them to New York to one of their dry-cleaning shops that was closed. They were going to change there and take one of those cheap car services to the airport.”
It was 11:55. The plane was due to take off at midnight.
“I don’t know. Those two have a sixth sense,” Charlie moaned. “If at the last minute they figure out this was a setup, and don’t get on that plane, I’m dead.”
“Did you pick up any indication that they were suspicious when you saw them earlier today?” Marge asked, nervously shredding a cocktail napkin.
“None. I’m their new best friend. Don’t forget, I’m the one who’s getting them home to see Mama.”
If this doesn’t work, I’m the one who gets blamed for suggesting it, Sterling thought with a pang of guilt.
The ring of the phone made everyone jump.
Charlie grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”
“Mr. Santoli?”
“Yes.”
“This is Rich Meyers. You’ll be glad to hear that a certain charter plane has just taken off, with Brothers Stanislas and Casper on board.”
Charlie’s relieved smile told Marge and Sterling what they needed to know.
“They should be landing in Wallonia in eight hours. The police there are waiting to arrest them. Our agents on board will shed their clerical robes and ride back home as soon as the plane refuels.”
Charlie felt as though a two-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “I imagine you’ll want to be taking further statements from me.”
“Next week. Enjoy your holiday. I know you’ll cooperate with us.” Meyers paused. “Don’t worry too much, Mr. Santoli. I think you know what I mean.”
“Thank you,” Charlie said quietly.
Sterling stood up. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’re going to be fine, Charlie. You’re a good man. And now I must leave you.”
“ Sterling, how can we ever thank you?” Marge asked.
“Don’t even think about thanking me. Just use your time on earth wisely. Believe me, it goes very quickly.”
Marge and Charlie entwined their hands. “We’ll never forget you,” Marge whispered.
“Never,” Charlie echoed fervently.
“We’ll meet again. I’m very sure of that,” Sterling said as he disappeared.
“How much longer? This robe is making me itch,” Eddie hissed, and was rewarded by an elbow in the ribs from Junior.
Junior fished a pad from his pocket and wrote, “Vow of silence. Shut up. Almost there.”
At that moment the voice of the flight attendant came over the loudspeaker. “We are due to land at Monastery Airport in twenty minutes…” The usual instructions followed.
Eddie was twitching with excitement and beside himself with joy. Mama Heddy-Anna! I’m coming, Mama! he thought.
Junior didn’t know the exact moment when the sinking feeling started. He looked out the window and narrowed his eyes. It was cloudy and, as the plane began to descend, light snow drifted against the windows.
He craned his neck and narrowed his eyes then spotted the monastery and the landing strip next to it. It’s okay, he thought. For a minute I had a feeling that Santoli mighta skunked us.
Then the voice of the flight attendant came on again. “We have just been advised that due to extremely icy conditions, we will be unable to land at Monastery airport. Instead we will be landing at Wallonia City airport thirty miles away.”
Junior and Eddie looked at each other. Eddie pushed back the hood of his robe. “Whaddaya think?”
SHUT UP, Junior scribbled furiously.
“You will be bussed immediately to St. Stephen’s Monastery,” the flight attendant chirped happily. “We do regret this inconvenience, but your safety is our first concern.”
“How do we go through customs?” Eddie was trying unsuccessfully to whisper. “Are the passports okay if they really look at them under a special light or something?”
SHUT UP, Junior scrawled. Maybe it’s okay, he thought. Maybe it’s on the level. He looked around, searching out the faces of his fellow passengers. Most of them were deep in their prayer books.
THE PASSPORTS ARE OKAY, he wrote. IT’S YOUR BIG MOUTH I’M WORRYING ABOUT.
Eddie leaned over him to look out the window. “We’re over the mountain. Look! There’s the village. Look! I bet I can pick out Mama’s house.”
His voice was rising. To cover the sound, Junior began to cough violently. Immediately the hostess was at his side offering water.
I need a drink, he thought wildly. If we get back to Long Island, I’ll tear Charlie Santoli apart limb from limb.
The plane landed, taxiing to a halt a good distance from the terminal. What Junior and Eddie saw out on the tarmac rendered them both more speechless than any vow of silence could ever have accomplished.
In the midst of dozens of uniformed Wallonian policemen, a lone figure was jumping up and down and waving vigorously.
Mama Heddy-Anna.
Junior shook his head. “She don’t look like she’s dying to me.”
Eddie’s face was puzzled. “She looks so healthy. I can’t believe it.”
“We took this trip for nuthin’, and now we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives in jail.”
The door of the plane opened and four policemen raced down the aisle. Junior and Eddie were encouraged to get out of their seats and put their hands behind their backs. As they were led away, their fellow passengers began removing roman collars and nun’s veils, and burst into spontaneous applause.
At the foot of the stairs, they were enveloped in one of Mama Heddy-Anna’s bear hugs.
“The nice policemen came for me. They said you were coming home as a surprise. I know you’re in trouble, but good news! Papa was just made head trustee at the prison where you’ll be staying from now on.” She beamed, “All three of my boys together, nice and safe, where I can visit every week.”
“Mama,” Eddie sobbed as he laid his head on her shoulder. “I been so worried about you the whole time I was gone. How do you feel?”
Heddy-Anna patted him. “Never better.”
Junior thought of the estate on Long Island, the limo, the money, the power, and Jewel, whom he knew would have a new boyfriend in two weeks. As Eddie’s shoulders shook with emotion, all Junior could think was, How could I have been so stupid?