The Fragment from The Shroud is my latest novel. The ebook version is out now. The paperback will be out before too long.
I plan to have a series of novels based around the protagonist, one Albert Poniatowski.
Poniatowski is a hard-drinking, no nonsense sort of bloke. He is descended from Polish royalty.
Anyway, that’s enough about my alter-ego.
Here is the BLURB:
Meet Albert Poniatowski. A private eye who says what he likes — and likes what he says.
When a traditional Roman Catholic priest engages the detective's services and tells him that someone has stolen an original fragment of The Shroud of Turin from the priest's chapel, Poniatowski can't quite believe what he's being told.
Nevertheless, he takes on the case. Before he knows it, he finds himself tracking Russian gangsters, hunting for a mysterious American thief and running from the Mafia on a wild ride across Europe.
As his investigation gets more intense with each passing day, he realises that his search for the relic has put himself — and others — in mortal danger.
AND HERE IS THE FIRST CHAPTER:
1
The priest arrived at 11:00 a.m. on the dot.
He was wearing an old-fashioned cassock, holding a cappello romano under one arm, and a neat black leather satchel in the other. His black shoes were so clean and polished that I could clearly see the spotlights of my office in their reflection. His grey hair was receding, but he covered it up well with his lightly-gelled side parting.
He got straight to the point.
'My name is Father Benedict Hobbs and I would like to engage your services. To find an item that has been stolen from my chapel.'
'What sort of an item are we talking about here?'
'It is a relic. A small piece of the original Shroud of Turin. One of the finest remnants from the original. If not the finest.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'The cloth that Our Saviour Jesus Christ,' he said, bowing his head, 'was buried in.'
'I know what it is,' I said. 'But it's a little early for a wind-up isn't it?'
'I am very serious. We had a very small piece of it. It was kept in a very small glass box and stored inside a glass-door compartment under the altar in our chapel.'
I took a few seconds to compose myself. My first thought was that the priest was either as gullible as an eco-fascist at a United Nations climate crisis conference, or he was a total madman. But either way, I could tell that he was telling me what he thought was the truth.
'Do you have a picture or description of the missing item? I said.
He removed a small folder out of his satchel. Inside it were several colour photographs of the missing piece of cloth. It was barely half an inch wide, and only about an inch tall, if that. It looked as if it would disintegrate if you so much as touched it.
'If you don't mind me asking, what makes you believe that it is genuine?'
'When I began offering the sacraments here in London, a family member approached me. He wanted to give it to the chapel. He was from a pious and wealthy family who had kept it safe for centuries.
'In 1532, you see, there was a fire in a chapel in Chambery. The Shroud was housed in the chapel at the time. Some of the edges of the cloth suffered burns and water stains. Two years later, nuns sewed patches over the damaged areas. When these damaged areas were cut off the original, a few unharmed pieces were also removed, either by accident, or because it was the only way to remove them at the time, while doing minimal damage to the rest of the Shroud.'
The priest gazed almost lovingly at one of the photos. 'This is one of those precious pieces. Kept by one of the nuns, then somehow transported here to England during the dreaded persecution of the Church following Henry VIII's break from Rome. The family were in North Yorkshire. They kept it in a secret chapel up there until the middle of the last century, when it was taken to London after the family lost all its wealth and influence. They had to sell the family estate, their home, their chapel. Everything.
'It was a very generous gesture on his part to give us the relic, God rest his soul.'
'And you believe this story?'
'I have no reason not to.'
'When was it taken?'
'Last Thursday. I woke up the next morning and went to the chapel to offer my first Mass of the morning, and I saw that it was missing straight away. The door to the chapel had been broken into, and the compartment underneath the altar was empty. I couldn't believe it.'
'What's the value we're talking about here?'
'Value? Well, it is almost immeasurable.'
'You've not had it valued?'
'No.'
'Do your superiors know?'
'Superiors?'
'Yes. Your bishop. Or whoever you report to.'
'I am in contact with a bishop or two abroad, but none here.'
'I don't follow.'
'I am not what you would call, in good standing with Rome.'
'And why is that?'
'I do not see eye-to-eye with them on several doctrinal matters. Eternal Rome, now that is another matter. But given the current crisis, I am persona non grata, shall we say.'
'I see. What about the police. Have you told them?'
'Yes. I have.'
'And?'
'They came and had a look and told me they would file a report on the theft and get back to me. I'm afraid that I don't believe they see it as much of a priority.'
'No, I bet they don't. They're probably too busy looking into some supposedly offensive social media post that has upset some wet flannel of a social justice warrior to be bothered about real crime.'
'I wouldn't know about those sorts of things. I'm sure they're simply very busy.'
'Oh, they're busy alright. Busy with the wrong things. Anyway, let's forget about relying on our big brother gestapo troops. I can help you with this. Where's your chapel? I'll come over and check it out tomorrow.'
The priest wrote down the address on my notepad and thanked me. We shook hands before he left. He had decent sort of grip — an honest one. There was also something else that drew me to him, but I couldn't work out what it was.
I spent a few moments studying his elegant handwriting before calling it an early evening.
SO THERE WE HAVE IT. PREPARE YOUR DINEROS. DUST DOWN YOUR LIRA. DIG UP YOUR BURIED TREASURE. SELL YOUR DOGECOIN.
Take it easy. And thanks for reading.