Free Shrouded in Silence by Robert Wise

think we need to pay attention if that creep shows up again."
"Sure," Jack said. "All agreed?"
Dov held up his hand. "I vote yes. I'll hit him with my stun gun if he gets any closer to our building."
Michelle glared, but only shook her head.
"Let's get back to work as usual," Jack suggested. "Dov, you're going back to the Vatican Library today. Right?"
Dov glanced at his watch. "They'll be open in thirty minutes, and I'll go over there to start digging into that heap of fragments I was working on yesterday. They've left everything in place for me to start in where I left off."
The office door swung open and a man in a clergy collar popped in. "Are we having fun yet, children?" he boomed in a resounding voice that roared through the house.
"Father Donald Blake!" Jack said. "What's an American Roman Catholic priest doing roaming in our secluded offices at this early morning hour?"
"I'm making sure you're genuinely working and not just trying to fake out your financial supporters," Father Blake said. "I know how you academic types operate. It's that old trickster's act with smoke and mirrors."
With only a fringe of hair around the edges, the priest's bald head mirrored his protruding stomach. Short and heavy, Father Blake's broad smile reflected a merry soul who walked on the sunny side of the street as often as possible. Around fifty, he appeared to be a man who accepted anyone regardless of their convictions, although his intense, probing eyes seemed to constantly search for inconsistency.
Michelle laughed. "You are full of it, you old fraud. I know how you priests operate. You float around all morning trying to sniff out a free cup of coffee. You don't fool me."
Blake laughed. "Hmm. I'm afraid I don't smell any coffee in here. You were expecting me and hid it in the back room?"
"You've shown up before we've got the pot on the burner," Jack said. "Everyone's up early this morning and—"
"Let's not dilly dally," Father Blake broke in. "How can I get that free cup if this woman doesn't put her mind to the task at hand?"
"I think I'm getting the message," Michelle said. "You're hounding me to get the pot fired up. The one that's sitting over there in the corner by you. I swear you can't even allow me time to sit down."
Blake grinned a sly smile. "You know what they say about a woman's work."
"You male chauvinist pig!" Michelle joked. "You never give up."
"I can't let the world go to rack and ruin because women keep trying to change the rules."
"Oink! Oink!" Michelle shook her finger at him. "Look. You and Jack go sit in the conference room, and I'll bring the coffee in when it's done."
"Ah, no finer words were spoken at this early hour," Father Blake said.
The two men sauntered into the adjacent room that had once been a bedroom. In the center a ramshackle old table made a center for discussion. Jack sat down at one end and Father Blake slipped in across from him.
"A fine morning," Blake said. "One of those days that makes me remember why I came to Rome."
"To make calls on people like me?" Jack laughed. "Come on. I see you wandering around St. Peter's and down the streets. What in the heck do you really do?"
"Why, I listen to people; hear their hurts and share a word of kindness. I can't imagine any more satisfying work."
"But you are a priest and I've never heard you say to what church you are attached."
Blake smiled broadly. "I don't want to work in one congregation. The whole world is my parish."
"Sounds vaguely like a Protestant preacher named John Wesley."
"I'm friends with all of them, saints and sinners alike." Father Blake leaned back in the chair and placed his hands over his round stomach. "Never object to being identified with anyone who counted, my boy." The priest began drumming on the table with his fingertips as if the questions made him nervous.
"Here you are, gentlemen." Michelle stepped into the room with a tray filled with two cups of coffee, a pitcher of cream, and a bowl of sugar with two spoons. "Nothing's