Shrouded Destiny

by Richard William Bates

  "That, I am afraid, I must keep from you. My enemies will know we have met once you air that tape, and it is best if you can tell them honestly that you do not know. You should be safe enough once the tape runs."

  Angelino folded up the Shroud, which he had displayed during the taping to show he indeed was in possession of it. He kissed it tenderly and uttered something quietly to it. Susan could not make out what he said. Then he placed it carefully in a duffle bag, which appeared to carry some other personal affects and some clothing ... she couldn't tell for sure ... and zipped up the bag. He walked over to Susan and placed his hands on her shoulders as he looked deeply into her eyes.

  "Ms. Morgan. Susan. Your destiny has brought you here tonight and it will lead you to places you can scarcely imagine now. You do not yet know it, but you will play a pivotal role in all that will come to pass. Destiny has chosen well, I think."

  For some reason, Father Angelino's words brought tears to her eyes. She feared not only would she never see him again, but more importantly, the rest of the world would never get the chance to know this man of quiet greatness. Yes ... it was greatness. She knew that, even though she had met him for the very first time this very evening. Greatness, her father had told her once many years ago, is apparent the moment you meet a person. He carries it in his eyes. Angelino's eyes carried something she had never seen before. Yes ... this must be what her father had meant. She felt gratitude she had been granted even this brief encounter.

  "Ms. Morgan, you carry greatness in your soul,” Susan jolted with those words. It was as if he were echoing the very thoughts she was entertaining.

  Through her tears she said, “Oh, Father, you don't know how wrong you are. I am not great. I have done some horrible things."

  "Yes, I know. The pit bull story,” Angelino chuckled.

  "You knew about that?"

  "Yes, Susan. It wasn't exactly a secret was it? I've been following you for quite some time now. You also drink too much, you smoke way too much, and you swear like a drunken sailor.” He smiled playfully at her. How could he possibly know these things?

  "You are not here in Italy by accident,” he added.

  "You mean...?"

  He raised his hand to stop her protest. “No ... I had nothing to do with your exile to Italy. What I mean is there are no accidents. Everything unfolds as it should. Destiny has seen fit for our paths to cross this day. They shall do so again. Once I found out you were in Italy, it became clear to me it was you who would bring my message to the people."

  "I ... I ... don't know what to say,” was all she could manage to answer.

  "Then say nothing. People talk too much when they could be listening to the truths that speak within them. That is a skill it is never too late to learn."

  He smiled at her and said, “It is time for you to go now. We both have things we must do. I am grateful you have taken the time to come here tonight. Thank you."

  With that, he squeezed her hand and stepped away from her. She bent over to pick up her video gear and when she looked up, Angelino was gone. She just shook her head and laughed. “Good luck, Father.” Now let's hope I can convince Ray to air this.

  The same man who had brought her to Angelino was standing in the doorway. “We should get started, ma'am,” he said. Susan nodded, and silently followed him out of the house to return to her hotel the same way she had arrived.

  Chapter 4

  THE SUN BROKE through the hotel room curtains, awakening her suddenly. For a brief moment, Susan felt disoriented. Her head ached and her vision was fuzzy. I have to cut down on the bourbon. As the fogginess of deep sleep slowly wore off, her thoughts returned to her encounter with Angelino the night before. My God! Had it just been a dream? She jumped out of bed and reached for her video case. Susan stopped short when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the small room. She stepped closer to the image staring back at her. She scarcely recognized herself. Her round features, framed by her shoulder-length golden hair, were softer, younger somehow. She liked this face. Had the face changed somehow, or was she merely seeing it with different eyes? She broke free from her reveries and dug into her video pack. Thank heaven. The tape was there. Just to be sure, she slid it into the portable video player and started the tape. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the face of Father Angelino appear on the viewer. Quickly reacting to a vague sense of danger, she turned the tape off, removed it from the VCR, and placed it back in the bag.

  Before her unexpected call from Angelino, she had intended to do something to move the story along. Now, here she was, less than a day later, with a story so big she still wasn't able to grasp all of its implications. As a reporter, she knew that she had to call Ray Cutler and feed this video to him. Nevertheless, a part of her resisted. Once this story was told, there would be no way to unring the bell. This was the kind of story in which events had the potential to take on a life of their own. Like it or not, Susan had become part of the story now, by virtue of her meeting with Angelino. She was no longer an objective observer. Shit! Pete Arlington will have my scalp for this.

  She sat on the bed again, her mind racing in conflict. Again, her gaze caught the soft face in the mirror. Who are you? The face looked back at her with the trace of a whimsical smile, and it was a moment before she could connect the smile in the mirror with the smile that had crossed her own face. She reached up and touched her cheek, half expecting the image in the mirror to move independently of her own movement. The image in the mirror touched its cheek as well. For an incalculable moment, she stared into her own eyes. How often had she looked at that face and yet never really looked into it? She was struck by how old she had started to look. Seeing this younger face in her mirror made that contrast stark.

  Breaking away from her reverie, she girded herself for the inevitable. Well ... as Julius Caesar said after crossing the Rubicon, “the die is cast.” Taking a deep breath, she became a reporter again, and reached for the telephone to call Ray and file her story.

  * * * *

  THE THREE OF them were sitting around David Warrenger's teak desk. The euphoria of discovery had waned and the sober reality of its implications was beginning to sink in quickly. For the past ten minutes, no one had spoken. The evening, which had begun as a celebration, had evolved into a somber, almost frightened silence. Warrenger was the first to break it.

  "Do either of you truly realize how huge this is?"

  Steven responded without looking up at him. “David, I don't know if it is even possible to gauge how big this is. I can't think of any discovery in the history of mankind that compares to it. I mean ... just think of it. We have the ability to replicate life. Not just the physical body, but the very identity of the host."

  "Steven, that's not strictly accurate,” John corrected.

  "What do you mean, John?” Warrenger asked. “The data is conclusive, isn't it?” Then he began to get a bit agitated. “Is there something you aren't telling me? Were we premature in our evaluation?"

  "No, David,” John said calmly. “The data is accurate. What I mean is that we know that we have duplicated memories of the host, but we can't make any assumptions about the personality. Yes, the evidence is pretty convincing, but I'm not prepared to say it is conclusive. The question I keep asking myself is this: can personality be contained within memories themselves? Can we really isolate those factors which contain our unique identity?"

  Steven replied, “But John, think about it. Little Gracie displays all of the same personality traits of Big Gracie, doesn't she? The same likes and dislikes, the same body language."

  "Yes, that's true, but we are dealing with a relatively simple intellect here. Until we see how they independently develop, we have very few answers and a whole shitload of questions."

  Warrenger was tapping a pencil on his desk absentmindedly, lost in thought. Steven and John waited impatiently for some response from him.

  "Steven. John. Tell me just what we do have here."

/>   Steven responded. “In a nutshell, we have developed a method for cloning ... exactly cloning,” he corrected himself, “any living entity. Along with that, it seems that the memories of the host are perfectly transferred to the clone."

  "It seems?” the CEO asked with annoyance. “Dammit, Steven! Do they or don't they? We're about to put our asses out on a long lonely limb. I don't want to hear words like ‘seems', ‘appears’ or any other mealy-mouthed nonsense."

  "All right, David. The memories of the host are perfectly transferred to the clone. Is that better?"

  "Only if it's true, Steven."

  "It is, David,” he said with a sigh.

  "OK,” Warrenger continued, “And the data is solid? The science is sound?"

  "Jesus Christ, David, we've been over this a thousand times."

  "I know. I'm sorry. I guess I'm getting a case of the jitters here."

  John laughed, “Tell me about it, David. I'm on my third pair of underwear ... and that's just this morning."

  They all laughed.

  "OK. We make the announcement. Tomorrow at six o'clock,” Warrenger decided. He felt better just hearing himself say it out loud. He hated indecision and once he made up his mind, the knot in his stomach went away ... at least for the moment.

  * * * *

  "JESUS, SUSAN. THIS is a bit much to swallow,” Ray Cutler had just finished accepting her video feed from the Vatican.

  "Ray, are you going to run it or not?"

  "I don't know. It's all pretty fantastic. To tell you the truth, all the Catholic clergy I know consider this Father Angelino to be some sort of fanatical fruitcake. How much do you know about him?"

  "C'mon, Ray. You know who he is. The renegade priest. A lot of people respect him."

  "Yeah, I know, but what do we know about him? How do you know he isn't some crackpot? Why shouldn't I believe the clergy who know him better than you or me?"

  "How do we know how well they know him?” Susan said with a plea in her voice. “He hasn't had any contact with the church establishment in decades. Sure, he's a maverick, but I've met him. I've looked into his eyes. There's something about him. I can't explain it better than that. I just believe him. Can't you just trust me?"

  "Susan, you know what I think of you, but I have to be honest with you. You're hanging on by a thin thread here. You know that. If I run this and it turns out to be some sort of hoax or scam, no matter how innocently reported, your career is finished. This is your second chance. Pete won't give you a third."

  "Don't you think I know that? Would I file this story if I wasn't sure about it?” Even as she said the words, she knew he was right. She hadn't checked out a single thing Angelino had said. She was taking it all on faith. What if Ray were right? What if Angelino was a fraud? Or worse, what if he was merely an honest but deluded old fool? Why was she so certain Angelino was telling the truth?

  "I don't know, Susan. You tell me."

  She sighed. “All right. Let me check out a few things."

  "OK. Do that. I promise you, if you can support the tape, I will make sure that it gets a prime-time slot. If Father Angelino is telling the truth, we have to run it."

  "Thanks. Do me a favor. Put that tape in a safe place."

  "Don't worry, hon. I will."

  "Talk to you later, Ray. Goodnight."

  * * * *

  "HOLY FATHER, I beg your pardon.” Father Michaels opened the door to Timothy's office a crack and stuck his head in the door tentatively. Timothy's irritation at interruptions was well known and always to be avoided, if possible.

  "Yes, Father, what is it?"

  "Sister Margaret is here to see you."

  "Who?"

  "Sister Margaret of the Sisters of St. Jude. She said she called earlier and you had agreed to meet with her."

  "Oh, yes. I remember. Please send her in."

  "Right away, Your Holiness."

  A moment later, the door opened slowly and the slight figure of a Judean nun shuffled into the office slowly, and stopped in the shadows a couple of steps into the room. She was wearing a hood that hung slightly over her head, casting her face in shadow. Despite this, Timothy could see enough of her features to discern it to be a youthful face. A brown carrying bag was hung over her shoulder. Timothy found that to be odd. It was not usual for nuns to carry personal effects with them.

  "Please come in, Sister. It is good of you to come."

  She bowed slightly in supplication and answered, “Your Holiness, it is gracious of you to honor me with this audience. May I ask that the door be locked?"

  This request clearly startled the pontiff.

  "Sister, may I ask why you make such a request?"

  "Holy Father,” she advanced a few steps. “I am certain you will not want our discussion to be interrupted."

  "Why is that, my child?"

  The nun stepped forward into the light and allowed the hood to fall from her head.

  Timothy's shock was real. “What the...?"

  "Because I bear a message for you from Father Angelino. I think you will be interested in hearing it.” The “nun” was Susan.

  "What?” he said angrily then slumped down into his chair.

  Good. I've got him.

  "Your Holiness ... the door? May I?"

  He nodded. “Very well."

  Susan turned, walked over to the door and bolted it.

  "Who are you?” he asked her.

  "My name is Susan Morgan. I'm a reporter for NBS, assigned to the Vatican. It's nice to meet you at last, Holy Father."

  "Yes, I thought I recognized you. Please get to the point, Ms. Morgan."

  "I have just met with Father Angelino, Your Holiness."

  "Yes, yes. You said as much.” Timothy's patience was running out fast. It was bad enough this woman had managed to slip past his security, but she had just been with that bastard.

  "I see you have a television. It would be much easier if I played the tape I made of Father Angelino.

  He made a gesture indicating that she could proceed. He watched silently as Susan expertly set up the video equipment. A strange mixture of anger and curiosity surged through the Pope. From the beginning of this series of events, Angelino had easily outmaneuvered him, as a cat toys with a mouse, knowing that no matter what the mouse might do, its fate was sealed. He felt a sense of foreboding. Angelino wouldn't dare tell this young woman what he knew ... what they knew. It had been known and agreed for centuries that this knowledge was to be kept secret. Indeed, the protection of this secret was one of the very reasons the Papacy had been created. But Angelino was unpredictable. He might do anything. The man was surely mad if he did not understand the implications of revealing this secret to a world that would never be able to cope with the knowledge.

  Susan had removed the nun's habit. Its purpose had been served. She was dressed in slacks and a simple blouse. He was struck by both her beauty and innocence. He guessed her to be in her mid-thirties, and yet her face was free of any of the signs of aging that many women of her years displayed. She methodically and competently hooked up the equipment with the skill of her profession.

  "Your Holiness. I am ready. I hope you are."

  * * * *

  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. Thank you for coming this evening. I'm gratified to see such a large turnout.” David Warrenger paused for the applause. “I assure you that you will not be disappointed.

  "As you know, I funded the Genetic Engineering Project a decade ago. Our purpose was to explore the frontiers of biological understanding, just as the company I founded twenty years ago, Intelligence, Inc., was exploring the frontiers of microcomputer technology. Our dream was to try and unlock the secrets of DNA, to find new and less intrusive means to fight genetic birth defects and the myriad diseases now challenging the human species. We never dreamed back then that our quest would lead to where it has. How could we have known?

  "We are here tonight to share where our road has taken us. Where it has taken mankind.


  "Forgive me. I grow overly dramatic. What we are here to tell you is this: The Genetic Engineering Project has discovered the means to create exact duplicate clones without the need for a host gestation period, indeed, without the need for the host itself."

  A gasp went up from the pool of reporters, and in unison, they erupted into a cacophony of questions.

  * * * *

  ARMAND MATHIAS WAS about to sit for dinner when his ears caught the word “clone” coming from the television playing in the other room. He rushed in, just in time to catch the announcement.

  "Mother of God!” he exclaimed, and reached for the telephone.

  * * * *

  WARRENGER RAISED HIS hands to silence the assembled press. “Please. Please."

  Slowly realizing they weren't going to hear much while they were all shouting, the reporters grew silent.

  "We have some of our employees passing out press kits to you now. We will give you an opportunity to ask your questions.

  "I am going to introduce our Project Director, Dr. Steven Hamilton. He will explain what he discovered. Steve..."

  Steven strode up to the podium. The room had grown stone silent.

  "Thank you, David.

  "I will get to the point directly. In the past couple of months, we have successfully produced, by pure cloning techniques, an exact duplicate clone of a living host. What has made this result different from past cloning attempts is that no host was required for the clone to develop and grow. Furthermore, one of our researchers, John Barber, discovered the key in nature that triggers the development of the embryo so these clones were all fully developed ... let me make this clear ... fully developed ... in less than three days."

  "Dr. Hamilton,” one of the news service reporters asked. “Excuse me, but did you say less than three days?"

  "Yes, that is correct."

  "I am about to explain all of that to you. Lights.” The lights dimmed.

  With a series of slides, Steven proceeded to go through the entire process. How the clones were grown in embryonic fluid which itself was genetically recreated ... how the DNA was extracted ... John's process of stimulating growth. He also showed a video, which had scenes of both Lucys and both Gracies, and scenes showing the progress of growth of the cloned embryos. Finally, he explained how early indications showed that the genetic processing seemed to pass full cognizant memories between the host and the offspring. Thirty minutes later, his presentation was complete.