"That might very well be, Reverend Mathias, but this committee represents the American people, not the Almighty. Do you feel we are being ‘beguiled’ by the scientists at GEP, Reverend?
"As a man of God, I must truthfully answer that question with a ‘yes'."
"Thank you, Reverend Mathias. No more questions."
* * * *
"RAY. TELEPHONE FOR you. It's a Doctor Mancini. Says he's calling from Italy."
Ray picked up the call on his extension. “Cutler here. How can I help you?"
"Mr. Cutler. This is Doctor Rene Mancini,” the caller said with a clear Italian accent. “Can you hear me OK?"
"Yes, I hear you fine, Doctor Mancini. What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Cutler, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. One of your reporters, Susan Morgan, was in a very serious automobile accident early this morning."
"What? Is she...?"
"She is in critical condition. I am obligated to tell you that I do not expect her to survive. She was badly injured. Her car rolled down a one hundred-foot embankment. She drove through a guardrail at a very high speed. We found your number among her possessions, along with her ID and some video equipment that was destroyed in the wreckage."
"My God,” was all Ray could manage to say. He knew that Susan tended to overindulge in alcohol at times. Had that been a factor in her accident?
"When her time comes, Mr. Cutler, what would you like us to do with her remains?"
The clinical lack of passion with which the question was spoken angered Ray out of his shock. “Hold on, Doctor. You don't know this woman like I do. Don't do anything until I get there. I'll be on the first plane to ... what city are you located in?"
"Turin, Italy, Mr. Cutler. I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid there is little doubt that Ms. Morgan will die. She is in a coma. We do not expect her to regain consciousness."
"I don't give a shit what you think, Doctor,” he yelled into the phone. “You just make damn sure she stays alive until I get there.” He slammed down the phone. He grabbed his coat and ran out the door, yelling to his secretary, “Marge, Susan's been in a car accident in Italy. I'm flying there now. I'll call you when I get there."
* * * *
"OUR NEXT WITNESS is Doctor Steven Hamilton, research director for the cloning project at GEP. Mr. Hamilton, please step up and be sworn in. Senator DiMarco from New Jersey will lead off the questioning."
"Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” Paul DiMarco was the senior senator from New Jersey, and a New Deal Roosevelt Democrat from the old school. “Welcome to these proceedings, Dr. Hamilton.” DiMarco flashed a disarming smile toward the witness. Then, peering over a pair of reading glasses at his list of prepared questions, he took on an almost grandfatherly appearance.
"Dr. Hamilton, first let me congratulate you and your team for this remarkable discovery."
"Thank you, Senator."
"I don't think we need to beat around the bush here. I think we all pretty much know what is on everyone's mind here, don't we, Doctor?"
"Senator, I'm not sure that I do."
"Well, let me be clear then. We're talking about the power to create human life, aren't we?'
A barrage of flashbulbs and shutter clicks accompanied the question. Essentially, this was the heart of these hearings, although no one in the hearing room had dared say it before. Steven shifted a bit in his seat. He was not unprepared for the question, but nevertheless had vainly hoped he might be able to avoid it. Now that it had been asked, he was just as glad to get it over with.
"Senator DiMarco, I won't deny that our research implies the creation of human life, yes."
A loud murmur circulated through the chambers. Senator Bennett banged his gavel. “Quiet please. We have a lot of witnesses to hear from.” It took several bangs of the gavel before order was restored.
Steven continued. “However, I must emphatically state that just because it is implied does not mean it can be done. Our research has been limited to animals. We have never given much thought to the cloning of human beings."
"Doctor Hamilton, are you telling me that in the euphoria of what might be the greatest scientific discovery in history, you and your colleagues never discussed the implications of your research as it pertained to the cloning of human life?"
"Of course we discussed it, Senator. We were not oblivious to the ramifications of what we had discovered. But we discussed it in a manner not unlike, I imagine, the way people have been discussing the subject in front of the water cooler ... speculating on what would happen if human life were cloned, mulling over the ethical questions such an attempt would raise. Never was the idea seriously proposed that we clone or attempt to clone a human organism."
"You are telling this committee that you never once were tempted to clone a human?"
"That is correct."
DiMarco shuffled through his papers, more for effect, Steven suspected, than in an effort to actually find anything in them. After a while, he peered over his glasses again and said, “I don't mean to be confrontational, sir, but I think many of us in this room find that hard to believe. I personally find it difficult to imagine that in the heat of discovery, you would not seriously consider cloning a human being. It seems like the next logical step, if I understand your research correctly."
"As I said, Senator DiMarco, we never for one moment considered doing that. We knew the discoveries we were making were controversial enough in their own right."
"How was it you were able to resist what would be an understandable temptation?"
"That's a good question ... one I've often asked myself. I can understand how the layman might see things that way. I don't know, sir. Perhaps we were just plain afraid to take that next step. I can only tell you with certainty that we did decide to leave that area alone."
"Ok, Doctor Hamilton. I know you to be a man of good reputation, so I will accept that."
"Thank you, Senator."
DiMarco nodded. “Let's speculate here a little, if we might. This isn't a court of law so we can play a little ‘what if'.” He smiled at Steven, who returned the smile. “Just how difficult would it be to clone a human, using your research as a starting point?"
Shit. This question was the one he had hoped to avoid. There was no way to do that now. He stalled by slowly taking a sip of water, becoming exceedingly conscious of the intensity of the focus now centered on him. “That is a difficult question to answer, Senator, since we never really took the idea seriously ourselves."
"Give it a try,” DiMarco said, this time without the smile.
"OK. Well, I suppose theoretically one would simply follow the very same procedures we did with Gracie and Lucy, only using a human gene. But it would be very risky to do that. Even though a chimpanzee, for example, is only a chromosome pair away from a human being, that single chromosome pair represents a dramatic leap on the evolutionary scale. For example, a human being could never be able to accept a blood transfusion from a chimpanzee, or vice versa, or an organ transplant. The genetic differences are too great. That single chromosome pair separates two different and very distinct species. So, although it seems like a simple matter to take the same steps to clone a human, there is no way to anticipate the outcome of doing so. There are just too many variables to account for, within an acceptable margin of safety."
"I see, Doctor Hamilton,” Senator DiMarco was eyeing him intently. “What do you suppose would happen if you were to take, say, one of my genes ... or better yet, in order to ensure a higher quality product, a gene from Senator Bennett...” gentle laughter rippled through the room. “What would you anticipate, if you did that?"
"Well, the first thing I would anticipate would be that the Democratic Party would not be too pleased, having two Senator Bennetts to contend with. Seriously, I have no idea what might happen."
"Not even an educated guess?"
"I'm a scientist. I'm not in the habit of making speculative guesses."
"Oh, come now, Doctor Hamilt
on. I'm not stupid. They don't keep me in the Senate because I'm pretty. They keep me here ‘cause I'm smart.” Loud laughter. “I know a little bit about how scientific research is done. You speculate and hypothesize all the time. It's your starting point for research, is it not?"
"Not exactly, Senator. Hypotheses are a type of educated guess, but they do not materialize outside of a larger context. Usually, there is something in previous research that suggests a starting point for a new hypothesis. We don't just pull guesses out of the blue. The scientific method is not clearly understood by even many of my colleagues. Not everyone who practices science does so with equal skill."
"Fair enough, Doctor Hamilton. I accept that. Now, given that explanation of a hypothesis, would you care to offer a hypothesis about what would happen under the circumstances I just outlined?"
"I would rather not."
Paul DiMarco glared directly at Steven. “Indulge me, Doctor.” There was no mistaking that he was prepared to remain there all week if that was what it took to get an answer.
Steven yielded. “All right, Senator. If all of the chemical reactions occurred exactly as they did with Lucy and Gracie, and if the gestational variables remained constant, as they have in previous experiments, and if the genetic material were pure, then an exact duplicate of the donor human would grow in a matter of two or three days, maybe longer. But please note, Senator, that I emphasize all of those ‘ifs'."
"Excuse me, but did you say two or three days?"
"Yes. Two or three days, maybe a little longer."
"I see,” DiMarco said solemnly. “Thank you for your candor, Doctor Hamilton. I have no further questions, Mr. Chairman."
"Thank you, Senator DiMarco,” Bennett said. “Next we will hear from Senator Bill Archer, from Oklahoma. He will be followed by Senator Joseph Frampton, of Ohio. Senators Archer and Frampton have co-authored a bill, which, if passed by Congress, would outlaw all research into human cloning. Senator Archer?"
For the first time, Steven began to understand what was happening. This hearing, ostensibly to gather facts and examine the implications of cloning research, was merely window-dressing to prop up a decision that had already been made. Steven wondered if John had also caught on to the game. How stupid he had been not to have seen it before. Both Archer and Frampton on the committee. It had been so obvious. Hell. I'm a scientist, not a politician. How could I have known? The only thing to do now was ride it out and let the chips fall where they may. If Congress was determined to stop their research, at least he would be on record letting the American people ... and history ... know who was responsible for obstructing one of mankind's greatest scientific leaps forward and just how much of a leap forward they were responsible for impeding. It was a foolish conceit, however. Progress could never be stopped. If cloning stopped in America, it would be taken up by another country and the crop of talented geneticists in America would quickly emigrate to those countries.
Senator Archer leaned into his microphone. “Good afternoon, Doctor Hamilton. Let me begin by asking you a little about your scientific background."
* * * *
IT HAD TAKEN Ray Cutler twelve hours to get to Turin. He entered the doorway of the old hospital and immediately jogged over to the nurse's station. “Good morning. I'm Ray Cutler. Your Doctor Mancini called me yesterday. You have a Susan Morgan here?"
The nurse nodded. “Yes, she was admitted yesterday.” Her English was respectable, through a thick Italian accent. “She is in very bad condition. We think she will die. Doctor Mancini thinks it is a miracle she is still alive."
"May I see her?"
"Yes. Follow me, please."
She led Ray down a dimly lit corridor. The building was old and small, but in good repair. He made a mental note to have Susan transferred to Rome or Naples as soon as possible. There was no way a hospital this size could provide the type of intensive care she must surely need.
They entered a small room near the end of the corridor. Ray gasped at what he saw. Susan was bandaged almost from head to foot. Her face was cut and bruised almost beyond recognition. An IV hung next to her bed, and she was on a respirator and heart monitor. He was surprised, too, at the quality of the equipment for such a small remote hospital. One look was all he needed to realize that Doctor Mancini was right. Susan would die from her injuries. He had served as correspondent in Vietnam and he knew the taste and odor of death. It hung over her like a dark, grey cloud of doom.
"Would you please get Doctor Mancini for me, Nurse."
She nodded and left the room.
Ray pulled a chair up to Susan's bedside and took her hand in his. He wondered if the stories were true about people in comas being able to hear what people said to them. He didn't care if it was true or not. He gripped her hand tightly. “Susan, honey. You hang in there. I'm going to get the finest care we can get for you. You're going to pull out of this.” He wondered if she would be able to detect the hopelessness in his voice, if she could, in fact, hear him.
"I'm afraid that will not be enough, Mr. Cutler.” Rene Mancini had entered the room behind him. “Mr. Cutler, I'm Doctor Mancini.” He extended his hand in greeting. Cutler accepted it absentmindedly.
"Thank you for taking care of her, Doctor Mancini."
"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Cutler. She is special to you, yes?"
"Yes, Doctor, but not that way. She works for me. She is here in Italy because I assigned her here. I felt it necessary to come down here for her."
"You are a rare boss, sir."
"What happened here?"
"As I told you on the phone yesterday, it was an auto accident. Her car ran off an embankment through a guardrail. It was dark. There was a horrible storm with heavy rain. No one knows how long she was there before she was found. The road she was on is not heavily traveled. The police think she lost control on the wet pavement and was driving too fast for conditions. If she had been found much later, she would have been dead already."
"Was alcohol involved at all?"
Doctor Mancini shook is head. “No. Her bloodwork came back clean."
"I see. Thank you, doctor. Please do not take this personally, but I'd like to have her moved to Rome or Naples as soon as you can arrange it."
"No offense taken at all. I understand your concerns. Let me make some phone calls and we will see about moving her as quickly as possible."
"Thank you, Doctor Mancini. Do you mind if I sit here with her for a while?"
Mancini glanced at the nurse to see if she had any objection. She nodded. “Of course, Mr. Cutler. Nurse Masia will see to your comfort. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other patients I must attend to.” With that, he turned and walked out the door, with the nurse directly behind him.
Ray again sat next to Susan's bedside, straddling the chair. He felt a deep sadness as the steady ping ping ping of her life support monitor filled the silence. He and Susan had their differences over the years, but they held a mutual respect for each other. Susan had been the best prospect he had seen in years, and he had worked with the best of them ... Cronkite ... Severeid ... Chandler. The loss of Susan would be not only a personal one for him, but also a big one for the world of journalism. Once again, he took her hand in his, hoping it was true that those in a coma were aware of what was going on around them.
"Don't do this, Susan,” he whispered. “Don't do this."
* * * *
"THE PLAN PROCEEDS, Number One."
"Good. The girl?"
"She has been dispatched."
"The Pope?"
"He is still loyal."
"The renegade priest?"
"His whereabouts are unknown, Number One."
"That is not good. We must locate and neutralize him. He is the only one who can alter the balance. That cannot be allowed."
"He will be found."
"Do not fail in this."
"We will not, Number One."
"Good. The One arrives soon. All must be in place."
&
nbsp; "Understood."
* * * *
THE STEADY SCREECH of the life support monitor woke Ray Cutler. He had dozed off, for how long he had no idea. As he awoke, he became aware that Susan's monitor had flatlined. Life had left Susan's body. He was about to jump up from the chair and yell for help when he felt a reassuring hand press on his shoulder.
"Remain calm, Mr. Cutler. I am here to help."
Ray looked behind him to see the serene figure of Angelino. “What...? It's you! What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"
"I told you. I am here to help."
"What are you talking about? Can't you see what is happening? I have to get the doctor now!"
"He will be along in a moment. Again, I ask you to remain calm."
"How can I remain calm? Don't you understand? She's dead."
"Yes, I understand. Will you please move away from the bed, Mr. Cutler?"
Something in Angelino's eyes compelled him to obey. He stood up and moved behind the priest. Angelino turned the chair around and sat down. “I must ask you to remain perfectly still if you will, please. Do not question what I am about to do."
Ray nodded, although fully aware that Angelino could not see him standing behind him.
Angelino closed his eyes as if in prayer. The steady sound of the monitor continued like a wailing scream of despair. Angelino appeared not to hear it. He's giving her last rites. Ray's heart sank with the realization of the finality of Susan's death. Then, unexpectedly, the priest reached out and gently took Susan's hand in his. His eyes remained closed, but his body conveyed a pure serenity. This was to be expected. Priests were often called upon to perform this solemn duty, and Ray assumed that like all unpleasant duties, this one, too, was one to which a person eventually grew accustomed.
Suddenly, Susan's body lurched with a movement just short of being a convulsion. Then, a sound came from her, a deep gasp of air as her breathing once again resumed. This cannot be happening! The screeching of the life support monitor was replaced by the reassuring ping, as Susan's heart beat with life once again. Nothing in Ray's years of journalism experience had prepared him for this.
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