48.
My smartphone is still operable. I
use it to call Checco, who arranges for us to be picked up by a fishing vessel
off the Alexandria coast. The boat will be waiting for us so that we don’t have
to waste time hiding out in the busy and bandit-filled port. But before all
that, we find a quiet place along the river. A place where the river runs deep
and still. A place where the river is bordered by riverbanks of sand dunes,
palm and olive trees, and open sky. It’s there we bury Andre “at sea,” slipping
his mortal remains over the side.
With my hand pressed against the
box of bones, I say a small prayer for the man I barely knew, but for whom I
was a sandhog years ago when he first went after the remains of Jesus. I
remember thinking how absurd the mission was, but then, I wasn
