Shrouded Destiny

by Richard William Bates

  A murmur moved through the room like a wave, growing louder and louder until it became a chorus of questions.

  Steven could see he was going to be there for a while. He removed his jacket and said, “I hope you won't mind if I get comfortable.” This induced light laughter from the reporters.

  "I'm ready to take your questions."

  A young lady from the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel was the first to be acknowledged. “Dr. Hamilton, how are you able to determine that the host and its offspring are identical? I mean, how do you know the offspring is no different than any other offspring which might be produced through normal reproductive means?"

  "That's a good question. Let me show you something. Can we have the lights turned down a bit again, please. Now this,” he placed a transparency on the glass plate of the overhead projector, “is the genetic pattern of Lucy ... the parent Lucy, that is.” He removed that one and placed a second on the overhead projector. “Now, this is the genetic pattern of Little Lucy ... the offspring created through our process. You can see they are identical. Not just close, not 99% similar ... absolutely indistinguishable from each other.” To illustrate, he placed the first overhead directly on top of the second. The first disappeared under the second. They were, in fact, identical.

  "Dr. Hamilton,” it was Hawkins from NBS. “What are the limits of this technology?"

  "I'm not sure I understand what you mean,” Steven responded.

  "Sir, is there anything this process can't be used for?"

  "We believe our process can be used to do many beneficial things. For example, we can grow new hearts for heart transplant patients, using their own genetic material, thus totally eliminating bodily rejection. We hope to be able to develop techniques by which we can, upon discovering a genetic disease in a newborn infant, be able to correct the genetic deficiency during the first few hours of life. The possibilities seem virtually endless. No. I see no limits to the benefits of this technology."

  "What about the ethical implications of what you have created?” The voice was that of veteran network reporter Sam Murdoch.

  Steven had expected this question. All three of them had.

  "Of course, Mr. Murdoch, one does not dabble with the secrets of life without thoughts of that type crossing one's mind. I am a scientist. I deal with scientific fact ... things that I can measure, count, and touch. But I am also a man. As such, I have seen the pain of parents who are told that their newborn children will be deformed or mentally retarded for life. The will of God, I believe they call it. I have seen otherwise robust men collapse and then die while waiting on a list to get a heart or other important organ for transplantation. It is true our work is controversial, but I ask you to consider this: If we find ourselves with the means to eliminate such suffering and refuse to make use of those means, what are the ethical implications of that?"

  * * * *

  HAROLD BENNETT WAS working late in his office. A pile of impending legislation required his attention. He reached for the next bill from the pile. This is what happens when you elect so damn many lawyers to Congress—a shitload of laws. He was flipping through the summary when his phone rang. He had let Betty go early and it took a few rings before he remembered that. He lifted the phone from the cradle.

  "Bennett here,” he said.

  The familiar southern twang on the other end needed no introduction. “Didn't I tell you something like this was going to happen, Harold? I warned you.” Mathias was in his usual state of agitation.

  "Armand. Why, I'm just fine, thank you."

  "I'm sorry, Harold. I just don't see that we have time for pleasantries at the moment."

  "Okay, Armand. Just calm down. What's got you so upset?"

  "Haven't you heard? Some sonofabitch has just figured out a way to clone people."

  "What?” Harold's shock was real.

  "Harold, do you have a television in your office?"

  "Yes. Wait, let me turn it on."

  "I'm telling you, Senator, this is a black day. The devil has just won a huge victory."

  "Quiet, Armand. Let me watch this. I'll call you back in a little while."

  Mathias didn't seem to hear as he continued. “This is an evil tool...” Harold never heard the rest as he hung up the phone and focused his full attention on the press conference. As he watched, his concern grew.

  "Jesus!” he muttered under his breath.

  * * * *

  "DOCTOR HAMILTON,” ANOTHER reporter called out. “Do you expect any response to your discovery from the religious community?"

  Steven smiled. What took them so long? “I would be quite surprised if there wasn't a response, Ma'am."

  "What do you expect their reaction to be, Doctor Hamilton?"

  Steven grew thoughtful and his tone became more serious. “I would hope they will see this discovery as an opportunity to overcome some serious diseases that have plagued humanity for centuries. I would hope they would see this as an extension of God's gift of the intelligence with which we are blessed. We anticipate this new biological technology will lead to cures for cancer, AIDS, heart disease, diabetes, and many congenital diseases which have thwarted our medical sciences. I see no conflict between that goal and the agenda of any serious religion."

  * * * *

  ARMAND MATHIAS WAS pacing frantically in front of his television. “This can't be happening,” he muttered to himself over and over again. “That sonofabitch can't possibly think I'm going to pat him on the back and say ‘Good job, Son.” This arrogant Dr. Hamilton was about to learn how seriously he had misjudged serious religion.

  He paced toward his liquor cabinet and poured a straight whiskey. Certainly God would understand. A soldier needed to steady himself before battle, and there was no doubt in the mind of Reverend Mathias that the first salvo in a long and bitter war had just been fired. He had tried to warn them. He had told them this was going to happen. God had spoken to him and told him. They would have no choice but to listen to him.

  * * * *

  TIMOTHY SAT STARING at what had become static on the TV screen. Susan didn't have to ask the question ... she knew the answer already. She asked it anyway.

  "Your Holiness, is it true?"

  The Pope stood up slowly, walked over to the window and took a deep breath.

  "Ms. Morgan, I remember the first time I saw the Pope. I was ten. My father brought my mother and me here just to see him.” He pointed to the courtyard below. “I was standing right on that very spot when he first stepped out onto this balcony and waved at me. Yes, I know he wasn't waving at me, but at the time, I was sure he saw me of all the people in the crowd. His smile was so ... so divine ... there is no other word to describe it."

  "Your Holiness? Is it true?"

  He continued as if not hearing her. “I thought to myself, this is what God would smile like if he were a man."

  He turned and faced her. “And it was at that moment I knew I only wanted to serve God. I was but a boy, but right on that spot I pledged my life to serve Him. And I have done so to the best of my ability."

  He paced back and forth slowly in front of the window, looking down at the floor thoughtfully as he spoke. “A ten-year-old boy sees the world with innocent simplicity. At that moment, everything was so clear to me. I didn't ask myself if it made any sense. I just knew. My destiny was set from that day forward and I never once questioned that destiny. Do you know what I am talking about, Ms. Morgan?"

  At that moment, Susan was no longer looking at the world leader of the Roman Catholic Church. She was seeing a man who bore an unimaginable weight on his shoulders. “I think so, Your Holiness."

  "At some point the boy becomes the man and suddenly things are not so simple anymore. One day ... and you can never pinpoint the day it occurs ... you begin to realize things are not black and white. Shades of gray begin to appear in your thinking. You learn you must compromise, accommodate, bend a little to accomplish the things you know you must. One day you wake up and realize yo
u don't know who you are anymore. Your heart begins to ache for the simplicity, which guided you so clearly in your youth. Yet your heart also knows that innocence, once lost, can never be restored."

  "Your Holiness, what are you trying to say?"

  He walked quickly toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. She saw desperation contained within them.

  "Ms. Morgan. You must destroy that tape and never speak of it to anyone."

  "So it is true."

  The pope whirled away angrily. “I cannot help you, Ms. Morgan. If you are wise, you will do as I tell you. Forget that tape and forget you ever heard the name ‘Angelino'."

  "Your Holiness,” she said softly, but with resolve. “I'm sorry, but you know I can't do that."

  Timothy slumped in defeat into a tall winged-back chair. He closed his eyes and muttered, “All is truly lost."

  * * * *

  HAROLD BENNETT'S PHONE rang again. He thought about not answering it, but there was no point. Avoidance was simply not an option for a United States senator.

  "Yes?"

  "Harold, it's me.” It was Stuart Hatcher.

  "Stuart, I was just about to call you. I assume you saw the press conference."

  "Yeah, I saw it. So much for waiting twenty years to clone humans."

  "Stuart, they never made any such claim. I was watching."

  "Harold, read between the lines. If they can clone a chimpanzee, they can clone a human. Hell, I'm no rocket scientist and even I can figure that out. This is bad. Real bad."

  Harold remained silent. Calling to tell me he won't handle this for me. Finally, he said, “Have you heard from Mathias yet?"

  "Not yet. I suppose I had better give him a call. I imagine he's got his underwear all in a bundle over this."

  "Stuart, this has gotten hotter than I expected it to. I will understand if you feel you can't do this,” he offered.

  "Harold, you've known me for thirty years. Have you ever known me to be a welcher?"

  "Of course not. But this isn't really what you signed on for. I'm not sure I can leave you in the lurch like this."

  "Don't worry about it. You do your legerdemain behind the scenes, and I'll do my part in the trenches. A deal's a deal. Actually, it could be fun. The Catholic Church is going to be in our corner, so I'm not going to have to be more than peripherally associated with Mathias. I've looked a little into the matter since we discussed it and my natural position would be against this stuff, so I probably would have joined the fight anyway."

  "Thank you, Stuart. But if this gets too hot, I'm not going to let you dangle alone on this. I'll speak out, if it becomes necessary."

  "That'll be fine, Harold. Well, I guess I better call that sonofabitch Mathias. I'll stay in touch."

  "Good luck. I'll talk to you soon."

  * * * *

  TIMOTHY SAT ANXIOUSLY in front of his computer screen. He was in his usual chat room, but was not even paying attention to the conversations going on, let alone participating in them. He was there for one reason ... hoping to find Angelino, and appeal to him to reconsider the path he was taking.

  Suddenly his monitor flashed with “YOU HAVE A MESSAGE FROM ANGELINO.” He leaped forward and accepted the message.

  ANGELINO:—Hello, Ronald. I see you still are finding time for recreation. That is good.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—I am not here for recreation. I am here to talk to you.

  ANGELINO:—What do you want to say to me?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—Stop this madness, Anthony. Reconsider what you are doing. If our friendship ever meant anything to you, please do what I ask.

  There was a long pause before Angelino responded.

  ANGELINO:—I have always valued your friendship. Remember, it was you who turned away from our friendship.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—That is a lie! It was YOU who turned away from God. You left me no choice.

  ANGELINO:—I know that is how you always saw it, but I never turned away from God. In my mind, it was YOU who abandoned Him, not I.

  Timothy grew angry.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—I do not intend to rehash this with you. You must stop your madness.

  ANGELINO:—Why do you call it madness, Ronald?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—It is madness because you know the ramifications of what you have done.

  ANGELINO:—I take it you have seen the tape.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—Yes.

  ANGELINO:—Then surely you must know that it is now out of my hands. The die is cast.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—It is not too late to undo this.

  ANGELINO:—Oh? And just how would you propose that I “undo” it, Ronald?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—Contact that reporter and tell her that it was a lie. Convince her if she runs the tape on the air she will end up looking like a fool. Apologize to her and tell her to simply chalk it off as the foolish obsession of an old man.

  ANGELINO:—You must think me a fool, Ronald. You think everyone else but you is a fool. Ms. Morgan is an intelligent and savvy woman. She already knows that is not true. If that were not the case, you would not be here pleading your case. My guess is that you were unable to convince her yourself. Am I right?

  Timothy ignored the question and felt desperate panic begin to surge through his being.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ANTHONY, DO NOT DO THIS!!

  ANGELINO:—Ronald, why can't you trust me on this? I assure you it is for the betterment of mankind.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—You arrogant bastard! How dare you presume to know what is best for mankind?

  ANGELINO:—Ah, but Ronald, is that not what being Pope is all about? ... working on behalf of all of Mankind?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—That is different, Anthony, and you know it! My authority comes from God. You act for your own selfish purposes.

  ANGELINO:—I see. Was it with the authority of God that the Church launched the systematic genocidal warfare against the Moors? Was it by the authority of God that the Church aided the escape of the war criminals of Nazi Germany? Was it by the authority of God that your early predecessors engaged in deceit, corruption, bribery, and assassination? Was it by the authority of God that the evil Council was formed, while the Church slowly allowed itself to become corrupted by it?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—Dammit, Anthony! I will not debate this with you.

  ANGELINO:—Ronald, as much as you might like to believe otherwise, the papacy is held by a man ... flawed, human, prone to all of the temptations to which men fall prey. The papacy is not infallible. The Doctrine of your infallibility does not make it so. You seem to have lost your perspective.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—I implore you, Anthony. The secrets you are about to reveal have been withheld from Mankind for centuries. Now is not the time to reveal them.

  ANGELINO:—If not now, when, Ronald?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—God will make that time known to us.

  ANGELINO:—He has.

  Timothy sat frozen with impotence and despair. Anthony was as stubborn and pigheaded as he had always been. Why couldn't the fool see the havoc he was about to unleash to a world totally unprepared to confront it?

  WHOLEY MOSES:—Is there nothing I can say to dissuade you?

  ANGELINO:—I'm afraid not, Ronald. It is time.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—Very well, Angelino. Then I will fight you with all the power at my command.

  ANGELINO:—Yes, I know you will, Ronald. And your power is considerable.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—You cannot win, Anthony.

  ANGELINO:—I pray you are wrong.

  WHOLEY MOSES:—I pray God's will be done.

  ANGELINO:—As do I, Ronald ... as do I. Goodnight.

  Timothy flipped off his computer without bothering to exit the chat room and sat back. He cupped his hands over his face, rubbed his eyes wearily and slumped deeper into his chair. For all of his bluster, Timothy knew stopping Angelino would not be an easy task. Of the three of them, he had always had the sharpest mind, while also being the most defiant. That could be
a formidable combination. Until the theft of the Shroud, Timothy had underestimated Angelino, despite being aware of his craftiness. He would not make that mistake a second time. It was time to make a move before Angelino could make his.

  Chapter 5

  SUSAN HEARD THE telephone ring through the haze of early morning sleep. Barely aware, she groped in the dark for the phone.

  "Hello?” she said, sleepily.

  "Did I wake you, Ms. Morgan?"

  "Father Angelino?"

  "Yes. Please forgive me for disturbing your sleep."

  "No problem.” She sat up, wide awake now. Then it occurred to her that it was odd for him to be calling at all. “Is everything ok, Father? Are you in any kind of trouble?"

  "No, not at all. Actually, I was calling to make sure you were ok."

  "I'm fine, Father Angelino. Where are you?"

  "I understand you had a nice chat with Timothy. I commend you. Getting past papal security is not an easy accomplishment."

  "How did you...?” Susan stopped herself. She was learning not to be surprised by anything Angelino did. “I'm full of all sorts of surprises, Father."

  Angelino chuckled. “Indeed, you are. I see you have not yet broadcast my message. I assume your supervisor is reluctant to go out on a limb."

  "That's about the size of it."

  "I understand.” His disappointment was apparent.

  "Are you having second thoughts yourself?"

  "No,” she answered, a little too quickly. Angelino caught that.

  "If you did not have second thoughts you would not be much of a reporter. I need your support, but only if it is something you can freely give. But remember what I told you that night. You will only be out of danger once that tape is shown. Until then, you must be very careful. Confronting Timothy has increased the danger greatly."

  For the first time, Susan felt the cold grip of fear. She had heard Angelino's warning when he had first given it, but realized it had never occurred to her there was any real danger, until this moment. What have I gotten myself into? A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind in an instant. Images of her dead body being found along a roadside, the terror of confronting an unknown assassin, regret for having taken all of this so lightly, panic, despair, and finally, resolve. Adrenalin surged through her, bringing with it a combination of fear and exhilaration.