Shrouded in Silence by Robert Wise Read Free Book Online Page A

problem affected her? It was the one secret she had kept from him all of these years. Fortunately, it seldom came up like it had tonight. The terrorist explosion had been so close to them that it had far more than unnerved her. Talk of the blast was everywhere and kept descending on her like an ever darkening cloud. Tonight, Jack had reintroduced the problem in a way that slid more deeply into her past than usual, and the childhood experience had erupted like a volcano. Nevertheless, he must not know about her condition. That resolve had been her pledge to herself from their beginning together. It must forever stay in her yesterdays. She would not tell him about the seriousness of her post-traumatic stress disorder.

6
 
 
 
A lthough four days had passed since the subway bombing, police remained everywhere with rifles in hand, and Michelle continued to feel apprehensive. With the coolness of early morning still hanging in the air, Jack and Michelle Townsend unlocked their office door and walked in. The sun had already come up and cars buzzed down the streets of Rome with their usual ferocity. Carrying a cardboard container with three cups of steaming coffee, Michelle placed the holder on her desk. They didn't often arrive before 8:00, but they had come to a turning point in their work and needed to review what they had discovered before going further. An early morning conference was needed before the next phase started. Michelle sat down at her desk and glanced at her watch.
"Dov should be here momentarily," she said.
Jack nodded. "We begin as soon as he comes through the door."
"Oh, let's start now." Michelle got up from her desk and threw her arms around Jack's neck. "Why must you be so enticing?" She kissed him forcefully.
"What?" Jack sputtered. "What was that for?"
"Maybe, just because you're my husband and I like kissing you in spite of all your shortcomings." She kissed him again.
"That's certainly the right way to start the day," Jack said.
Michelle giggled and returned to her desk. She glanced around their front office filled with four desks. Three of the staff occupied the largest desks and the old rolltop held piles of books. Even the two large bookshelves were crowded with worn copies of ancient volumes with rows of books piled up across the top. Stacks of files and papers stood around the edge of the floor. The walls had been painted literally a hundred years ago and streaks of dirt and discoloration ran down the sides. Jack claimed they lent character and the fathers in the Santa Maria Church had told them not to paint the walls anyway. Michelle hated the appearance but couldn't change it. Through the open door, Michelle could see an old conference table in what must have once been a bedroom. Five chairs had been placed helter-skelter around the worn table. A couple of old oil paintings hung on the walls when they moved in and had been left in place. She couldn't decide if the oils were worthless or masterpieces lingering from a couple of centuries back. Unable to decide, she left them alone. The worst fact about the house was no central heating system. In the winter, they had to build a fire and wear coats to keep from freezing. Not a good situation.
"Here comes Dov," Jack said. "I hear his cane thumping on the walk outside."
"Good. We can start the discussion."
The door opened and Dov Sharon walked in. "Boker tov," he said in Hebrew. "Shalom to all."
Michelle studied Dov, a small man. Jack had first met him while working in the Armenian Library in Jerusalem. With wiry black hair that stuck out in every direction, Dov's intense, penetrating, dark-brown eyes fit well with his handsome long, narrow face. Dov didn't say much and seemed to constantly glance around the room or shoot a look out the window. He acted like a man who remained suspicious of some undefined entity.
The Sharon family had migrated to Israel after his grandparents barely escaped execution in the Auschwitz concentration camp in southwest