Free Intervention by Robin Cook

papal infallibility, after a dinner at the cardinal’s residence. “You two are never going to agree on anything.”
    “This time, thanks to Saturninus, I’ll have proof.”
    “Well, I hope I’m not there,” Sana remarked. She’d never enjoyed those evenings and lately had stopped participating. She’d asked if they could go out to a restaurant instead, which Sana thought would calm their behavior. But neither Shawn nor James were willing. They enjoyed their endless, seemingly acrimonious debates too much and didn’t want to be restrained.
    Back at the beginning of their relationship, when Shawn had first told her about his long-standing friendship with the archbishop, she didn’t entirely believe him. The archbishop was the most powerful prelate in the country, if not the hemisphere. The man was a true celebrity. There was even talk that he might be destined for the Vatican.
    Yet it wasn’t just their respective positions that made their friendship seem so unlikely. It was their personalities—Shawn the sophisticated extrovert, constantly seeking opportunities for real or imagined self-aggrandizement, James the ever-modest parish priest who had been waylaid by fate to assume more and more responsibilities for which he was ill prepared. What never ceased to amuse Sana was that these opposite personality styles were denied by the old friends themselves. Shawn would have none of James’s expressed modesty, accusing him of unbridled ambition fortified by exceptional pragmatism, shrewdness, and his ability to flatter. James considered Shawn’s bravado equally suspect, convinced Shawn was a deeply insecure person, a belief Sana was beginning to share. James never tired of constantly reminding Shawn that God and the Church were there to help him.
    From Sana’s perspective, even the two men’s outward appearances argued against the chances that they would be friends. Shawn was a natural athlete who participated in varsity sports at Amherst. At six-foot-three and two hundred pounds, he was physically imposing and still fit from competitive tennis. James was short and plump, and now, often swathed head to toe in his scarlet robes of office, appeared decidedly elfin. On top of that, Shawn was black Irish, with thick, dark hair and strong angular features. James, on the other hand, had red hair and creamy, freckled, almost translucent skin.
    What had drawn the two men together and had cemented their relationship, Sana was later to learn, was first circumstance and later a love of debate. It had started their freshman year when they had been made roommates. Joining them was another student who lived directly across the hallway. His name was Jack Stapleton, and as chance would have it, he too ended up living in New York City. So the Three Musketeers, as they were known in college, miraculously ended up in the same city even if they were worlds apart in their careers.
    In contrast to James, Sana had met Jack Stapleton just twice. He seemed such a remarkably private person, she wondered how he’d gotten along with the others. Maybe his seemingly thoughtful, retiring nature and lack of self-reference had made him the glue that had held the group of friends together back in college.
    “James is going to come unhinged,” Shawn continued, still chuckling to himself at the prospect. “And I’m going to love it. This is going to be my opportunity to put him on the hot seat, and is he going to squirm. I can’t wait to revisit the infallibility issue. In light of all the papal shenanigans during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, it’s an issue we’ve argued about hundreds of times.”
    “What makes you so certain this is going to rank up with Carter’s discovery of King Tut’s tomb?” Sana questioned to refocus the discussion.
    She wasn’t certain what the other two archaeologists Shawn had mentioned had discovered, although the name Schliemann was familiar.
    “King Tut was an insignificant child ruler whose life was a