Shrouded Destiny
Page 13
John sat up quickly, giving Steven a quick nod without saying anything. Now he, too, could hear the approaching footsteps growing closer. Whoever belonged to those footsteps was trying to be as quiet as possible, but had worn the wrong kind of shoes for such stealth. Was the FBI returning to search the lab once again? After Agents Breem and Montgomery had left the other day, he and John had conducted a thorough sweep of the entire building for electronic listening devices. The search had turned up empty.
Steven cursed himself under his breath for not having a gun in the laboratory. He had always been against firearms. He wished he hadn't had such high principles at the moment.
He and John held their breath without realizing it, as the footsteps stopped outside the door. Through the fluted glass of the door, they could see the silhouetted form of three men. Steven was torn between hiding and taking the more aggressive tactic of shouting out to the men, possibly frightening them away. It wasn't entirely clear if the three dark figures outside the door had expected to find them there or not. He suspected that John was thinking similar thoughts. They both remained where they were, frozen in tense indecision. Hiding prevailed. Steven gestured to John for them to move behind a crate at a dark corner of the lab. The handle on the door jiggled as one of the men attempted to turn it and found it locked from the inside. After a short silence, a tiny beep sounded, indicating that the intruders had somehow managed to override the security lock. Steven and John had barely positioned themselves when the door slowly opened.
Peering around the corner of the crate, they were able to see the outline of the three as they paused outside the door. One of them swept the room with a flashlight. They both ducked quickly behind the crate as the beam was aimed in their direction. When the men were satisfied that the lab was empty, they entered cautiously. Steven and John could hear them whispering but were unable to either identify the voices or make out what was being said.
During the daytime, with the normal sounds of the laboratory filling the room, the quiet hum of the life support equipment was undetectable. But in the pure nighttime silence, it seemed as loud as a jet engine. As if reading their thoughts, the three men made their way toward the storeroom, apparently led there by the steady hum of the electronics within.
Steven acted on pure instinct. All he could think of was the magnitude of the experiment that was secreted in the storeroom. He leaped to his feet and stepped out from behind the crate.
"Keep away from that door!” He surprised even himself at the command in his voice.
Startled, the three men whirled at him. The one carrying the flashlight shined it directly into his face.
"And get that goddamn light out of my face."
A familiar face came from the darkness. “Doctor Hamilton?"
"Yes, I'm Doctor Hamilton. Turn that light off!” he shouted. Steven himself would have been the last person able to explain his sudden bravery, but it seemed to disarm the three men. The flashlight went dark, and one of the men reached over and turned on the overhead lights.
"Armand Mathias.” Steven recognized him from the senate hearings. The two men standing on either side of him were unknown to Steven, however. All he noticed was that they were very, very big.
Emboldened by Steven having survived his bravado, John finally emerged from behind the crate. Mathias acknowledged him.
"Doctor Barber. It's a pleasure to meet you both at last."
Steven grew angry. Convinced that his life was not in any immediate danger, he stepped forward and demanded, “What are you doing in my laboratory?"
Mathias smiled condescendingly. “Why, I've come to stop you, of course, Doctor Hamilton."
Steven started. Was it possible that he knew? If so, how? His mind raced as he decided to play it cagey. “Stop me? What are you talking about?"
"Come now, Doctor Hamilton. You know very well what I'm talking about."
"No, I'm afraid I don't. What I do know is that you are guilty of breaking and entry and trespassing. And I will press charges."
The two goons accompanying Mathias were studying Steven and John intently, prepared to protect the Reverend if either of them attempted to make a move toward him.
"Doctor Hamilton, please. Do not insult my intelligence. No one is going to be pressing any charges and you know it."
Steven was checkmated. The last thing that he wanted was to get the police involved. How did Mathias know that, though?
"What do you want?” he demanded again, attempting to maintain his authority.
"I told you. I intend to stop you."
"Stop me from what? I don't know what you are talking about."
"Please, Doctor Hamilton. You are an educated man. Must you merely repeat yourself like this?"
Mathias pointed to the storeroom door and said to his companions, “See what's in that room."
Steven quickly positioned himself in front of the storeroom door. “You are on private property. If you leave now, I will forget about this intrusion."
Mathias nodded at the larger of the two men. The man grabbed Steven firmly and pushed him away from the door.
"I'm warning you, Mathias.” The threat was meaningless and transparent.
The large man tried the door. It was locked. He looked to Mathias for further instruction.
"Break it down,” Mathias said.
Steven leapt at the man and tried to wrestle him away from the door. “More bravery than sense, Steven,” John mumbled under his breath. The large man threw Steven effortlessly into a stack of boxes, sending them crashing across the lab floor.
The Reverend said, “Doctor Hamilton, I would advise you to control yourself. You cannot stop George here, and even if you could, you most certainly could not stop him and Gerald. Please don't make me have to tell them to hurt you. I mean you no harm. I only come to stop your experiment."
The large man, George, threw his considerable bulk behind a strong shoulder into the door. After a couple attempts, the door gave way and opened, revealing a tall tank covered by a cloth that concealed the contents. Several long tubes and wires ran from electronic monitors lining both sides of the room, all disappearing under the dark cloth into the tank. Everyone stood and stared at the sight for a second. Mathias had not been certain exactly what he would find behind the door. The caller had merely told him that a human being was being cloned without saying how he knew.
The sight of the tank, standing about eight feet tall, made Mathias take a step backward, but he regained his sense of purpose quickly. “So. You don't know what I'm talking about?” He pointed triumphantly at the covered tank. Before Steven could stop him, he reached out and grabbed the cloth and pulled it from the tank. What he saw made him and his henchmen gasp out loud.
In the tank, a tall, human, male figure floated in a thick clear fluid with a slight blue tint to it. Various electrodes were dispersed over its body, their thin cables running upward and through slots in a cover, out to the monitoring equipment. The figure was immobile. Mathias could not divert his eyes from its face, caught in a state between fascination and horror. The face displayed immature beard growth. The nose was long and noble, the face thin but strong. Light brown hair had grown about shoulder length. The body and face were smooth, without a great deal of distinction in their features. Mathias realized that the body was not fully formed yet. It was not too late!
His horror overcame his fascination and he turned away from the figure with disgust.
"How dare you!” he screamed at Steven, his face contorted into a mask of hatred.
Steven and John did not respond.
Mathias walked around the tank slowly, surveying the figure it contained with growing anger. After every few steps he threw a piercing glare toward Steven. His rage grew with each step.
"What is this ... this ... abomination?” he demanded.
Steven and John both remained silent. Steven did not like the wild look of rage in Mathias’ eyes.
Mathias spotted a large metal rod, apparently l
eftover from some previous construction, propped up in the corner of the room. He dashed over and picked it up before anyone could react. He began slamming it wildly into the monitoring equipment, shattering it in a hail of electrical sparks, which flew everywhere. Steven was horrified.
"Dammit, Mathias! Stop it. You'll kill him.” Steven screamed.
"Exactly, Doctor Hamilton,” Mathias yelled over the noise. He hammered the metal rod repeatedly against the equipment in an uncontrolled rage. Steven lurched toward him to stop him, but was immediately restrained by George. Gerald positioned himself near John in case he had similar thoughts.
"Mathias! Stop!” Steven again cried in horror. The destruction of all his equipment was too much for him to take. “You don't know what you are doing!"
Mathias stopped long enough to take a breath and hiss at Steven, “You are an unholy bastard!"
Then to the horror of the two scientists, Mathias cocked the rod over his shoulder and was ready to take a wild hard swing at the tank itself. He swung. The rod bounced off the tank without damaging it.
"Mathias! Don't!"
He reared back with extra resolve.
Steven screamed hysterically, “Mathias. It's Jesus! For God's sake, stop! The man in the tank is Jesus Christ!"
Mathias froze. His eyes blinked in shock. “What?"
"It's a clone of Jesus, Mathias. We grew it from his own DNA."
John spoke up. “Listen to him. He's telling you the truth."
Mathias dropped the rod. Steven and John both sighed in relief. “How is this possible?” Mathias asked vacantly. He moved closer to the tank and looked closely into the face of the man suspended within the fluid. As quickly as it had risen, his rage had subsided, replaced with confusion and disorientation. It wasn't possible. Could this be the face of the Lord?
Steven recounted his visit from the priest Angelino and the young reporter Susan Morgan. No, he didn't know how she fit in exactly. How Angelino had produced the Shroud of Turin and proposed that they clone Jesus from it. How he had resisted, but eventually capitulated. How John had taken the DNA from the Shroud of Turin to start the culture, and the visit from the FBI. He decided to omit the odd incident with the storage room. When he was finished, Mathias could only say, “Mother of God. I ... I have to sit down."
As Steven was recounting his story, John had been busy surveying the damage. It was devastating. The entire monitoring array had been destroyed. Fortunately, its only purpose was monitoring life support, rather than providing it, so no harm to Jesus had occurred. But John was concerned about being able to monitor the biological systems. They had not ventured into this territory before and had entered it reluctantly. But now that they were there, they wanted success. John's mind filled with images of how he would explain letting a cloned Jesus die. He didn't much like them.
Mathias walked dazedly out to the office to take a seat behind Steven's desk. Steven took the opportunity to consult with his partner.
"How's it look, John?"
"Not good. All of the monitoring equipment is scrap. Our subject appears unharmed, though, although without the monitoring equipment, I can't be sure."
Steven looked around the storeroom. “What a mess."
* * * *
Mathias used this time to collect his thoughts. He hated everything these two men stood for—soulless science. How many times had he given the sermon warning of the evil end to which science must lead? Now, here before his very eyes, was the proof of what he had been saying all these years. These bastards had defied the United States government and God, and had used this outlawed technology to clone a human being, just as he had feared and just as he had predicted would happen before the Senate committee. He could not forgive them for that. Perhaps God could, but he, Armand Mathias, doubted that God would forgive them; therefore, he saw no reason why he should.
But it wasn't that simple. This was no ordinary human that they had cloned. This was Jesus, the Son of God Himself, sent by Him to take away the sins of mankind. Whatever his feelings about what Hamilton and Barber had done, this complicated things greatly. How would it look for the Reverend Armand Mathias to condemn their work when the result of that work was The Lord Himself?
As he contemplated that, at last the enormity of this scenario hit him. My God, Christ walks among us again! Suddenly, he saw possibilities to which his anger had blinded him a moment ago. Who else knew about this? He guessed that no one did besides the renegade priest ... what was his name again ... ah, yes, Angelino ... the girl reporter, and these two scientists. Perhaps their benefactor, David Warrenger, was in on it as well, but he doubted it. This was clearly a freelance operation from start to finish.
There was no way this was going to remain a secret. The two scientists, with this one bold stroke, had ensured that their names would go down in scientific history as the instigators of the most remarkable scientific advancement in history. He smiled wryly to himself. He doubted they even realized how much power this would make available to them. They were like many scientists he had known, only caring about the purity of their science—he even sneered that word in his own private thoughts—and unconcerned with material gain. Mathias knew better. He lived well off the donations of his congregation. He knew the reality of power. Money was power. His television ministry collected about three million dollars a month in small bills from little old ladies and the sick, and larger donations from many of the rich, hoping that they could buy themselves a place in the Kingdom of Heaven. Mathias held the latter-most in contempt. Of course you could not buy your way into Heaven, but he wasn't going to be the one to discourage that hope. If they were willing to pay to hedge their bets, he had a clear conscience about taking their money. After all, didn't it go toward God's work? And wouldn't God want him to enjoy the rewards of the administration of His works here on earth? If they didn't donate the money to him, they would just spend it on lavish vacations, mistresses, and fancy cars. The fact that Mathias used that money to purchase those very same things for himself never struck him as contradictory.
So, only the four of them, and now he and his two bodyguards, knew of this event. If he couldn't stop it, he could use it to his advantage. His heart began to pound as his mind savored the possibilities cascading through it like scenes from a music video. He was in a position that every religious leader in the Christian world would kill to be in. He was present at the resurrection of Jesus. Surely, Jesus would see the wonderful works Mathias had performed in His name and bless them to all the world. Together, they would show the way to God's Kingdom on earth.
Mathias’ design was crystal clear. He would no longer be the enemy ... he would extend a helping hand. He would earn the trust of Hamilton and Barber. After all, couldn't he help them? He had the contacts, the power. He would be Jesus’ guide in this new century, just as Jesus had been his in the world of spirit all his life.
Mathias sat up as Steven emerged from the storeroom, visibly angered.
"Mathias. I hope you know how close you came to murder here."
Mathias was genuinely shocked by this accusation and started to protest, but was cut off as Steven continued.
"Yes, Mathias. Murder. And not just any murder, but the murder of Jesus. I wonder how that one would play for your congregation."
"Now just one minute...” Mathias protested.
But the angry scientist was discharging the adrenaline that had been pulsing through him. He wasn't having any of this “just one minute” shit.
"Kiss my ass, Mathias. Are you insane? You come storming in here like some sort of Gestapo crusader, forgetting to engage your brain in the process, destroying millions of dollars worth of equipment, and coming within a hair's width of single-handedly destroying the most remarkable experiment in human history. I should kick your ass around the block a couple times, just for the hell of it."
He kept his ambitious thoughts to himself. “Doctor Hamilton, are you being straight with me? Is that really the body of Jesus in there?"
This sincerely troubled Mathias.
"Doctor Hamilton, I assure you that had I known, I never would have done what I did. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Steven appeared suspicious of this sudden change of attitude from Mathias, “Actually, Reverend, there may be. We have some backup monitoring equipment but it's in a warehouse across town. It would be helpful if you could send your men to get it for us. I'll give them the directions and instructions."
"Yes, of course, Doctor Hamilton.” Steven studied him with suspicion. The Reverend adopted a pose of humble apology. “I ... I ... I'm sorry for my behavior."
The scientist remained angry. It was going to take more than just an apology to win him over. Steven may have been a one-dimensional scientist, but he was no fool. Mathias knew it would take some time to win his trust.
"Listen, Doctor Hamilton. I was way out of line, but I've had a few moments to think. After all, you have Jesus in there, and I'm a man of God.” Steven almost laughed at that. “So you and I have more in common than you might suspect. We both want to see your work succeed."
"You could have fooled me, Mathias,"
"Doctor Hamilton, I had no idea who the man in there was. How could I have known?"
"That shouldn't have made any difference, Mathias. You broke a whole lot of laws."
"Welcome to the club, Doctor."
Steven realized Mathias was right. They had no moral high ground to stand on regarding that point.
"Mathias, if you're serious about helping, I'll write down the location of the backup equipment and you can send your men to get it for us. This is the first time we've done this and we need that monitoring equipment."
Mathias gestured to George, who obeyed instantly.
"George, Doctor Hamilton is going to give you some instructions. You are to follow them as if they came from me. Understood?"
George nodded obediently.
Steven wrote down the list of equipment needed. “You can read, I assume?” he said, as he handed the instructions to him.