Mathias shot a hard glance at Steven, but sat back down.
"We've got to consider how we are going to break things to him. We've got an entire civilization built around a religion that was created in his name. That's not going to be something we will be able to keep from him. It would be best if he learned it from us. Mathias, you need to accelerate the lessons. I want to be able to sit down and have a real conversation with him ... soon."
* * * *
Meanwhile, Jesus walked slowly along the edge of the forest. The cool breeze of dusk carried just a hint of a chill. So much like the chill of the desert nighttime, but the air carried a sweetness of pine that rekindled some vague memory in Jesus’ psyche. He knew that smell. He couldn't remember from where. Why was there so much that I cannot remember?
A bright full moon was beginning to rise above the treetops to the east. Suddenly Jesus felt completely alone. He didn't belong there, yet there he was. There was no way to return to the time and place that vague memories told him was his rightful time and place. He wished he could remember more. He sat down on the cool grass and stared up at the stars. Why was I brought here? What was it that was supposed to fill this aching loneliness that grips my heart like a cruel and heavy hand? A vague sense of ... something ... haunted him. So much of who and what he was had become clear to him, yet so much lingered at the fringes of his memory, just out of his grasp. Who am I? What am I? The men who were there with him were good men ... kind men. But he longed for the company of those with whom he had broken bread in his past. He vaguely remembered several who traveled with him, sharing his joys and his heartaches. There were many heartaches, he began to remember ... and many joys.
His sudden memories of his cousin John, who had been called “The Baptist” in his time, had burst upon him with deep emotion. What other memories like that might return?
Overcome by his loneliness, and placing his face in his hands, Jesus wept.
* * * *
ANGELINO THREW SOME wood on the fresh fire he had just finished building. Although the days were still quite hot, the mountain nights grew chilly. Susan pulled her wooden chair closer to the fire to bask in its warmth.
"How much longer must we wait, Father Angelino? I feel we should be doing something."
"Are you getting bored with my company?” He smiled. “A symphony is composed of the silence between the notes as well as the notes themselves, Susan. There are times when we exercise the most influence over events by remaining quiet. It is as important to know when not to act as it is to know when to act.” Angelino said reassuringly, “We will act soon, my child."
Susan shook off the night chill. “Good. I guess I still have too much of the reporter in me. Inaction doesn't suit me."
"That's probably why it has been thrust upon you,” Angelino smiled. “God has a way of bringing us the lessons we need."
"Does that apply to you too, Father Angelino?"
Angelino laughed. “Certainly. He has brought you to me, hasn't He?"
"Very funny,” she said, with mock indignation.
Angelino pulled a chair alongside her and watched the fire for a while.
Susan broke the silence. “Do you think anyone believed you?"
"Oh, some most assuredly did. I imagine that good ol’ Timothy has sicced his public relations hounds on the case. By now he has assured the world press that I am a lunatic. President Crowley has probably chimed in unison. The Council doesn't waste any time.” He said all of that matter-of-factly, Susan noticed.
"How can you be so calm about that, Father? They are ruining your good name and you aren't even defending yourself.” She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice.
"The louder one protests their innocence, often the guiltier they appear. One thing that you must remember, if you remember nothing else during the coming days ahead, is to stay focused on Truth. Truth is a force of nature, and no matter how emphatically forces may conspire to obscure it, Truth always bores its way to the surface. That which is not the Truth may appear to triumph for a time, but that victory is fleeting and illusory. That is the secret weapon that we have that The Council fears. Truth will always prevail. Remember that."
Susan sat and pondered for a while. She stared into the fire, watching the patterns created by the dancing flames.
"Susan, what's on your mind?"
"I've been waiting for you to tell me, but I can't wait any longer. I have to ask you ... why did we have those scientists clone Jesus from the Shroud?"
Angelino said seriously, “I though you'd never ask. I wondered when you would get around to it."
"You mean you've been waiting for me to ask?"
"Of course,” Angelino's eyes twinkled.
"Why?"
"Why did you hesitate so long to ask?"
"Because I thought you would eventually tell me. I trust you, Father Angelino."
"I appreciate your trust, Susan. I really do. However, your trust in others always creates a certain dependence upon them. It is good to value the judgments and opinions of others, but when all is said and done, you are answerable only for your own actions, thoughts, and ideals."
Susan wrinkled her brow, as she generally did when she was absorbing what Angelino said. “Ok, now ... are you going to answer my question?” she smiled sweetly.
* * * *
Angelino laughed heartily. How he enjoyed this special soul. So open to learn, yet never intimidated by him. She was truly worthy of the role for which she had been born.
"I will give you an answer that you won't like,” he beamed.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess I'll have to settle for that, won't I?"
"Jesus’ presence is an important catalyst, Susan, in ways that even I cannot fully predict."
"Is this the Second Coming, Father Angelino?"
Angelino picked up the poker and stirred the dying flames back to life. He let himself be distracted by that activity for a few minutes before he answered.
"The time for the Second Coming has arrived, Susan. It is what the Great Gathering of the Knighthood is about. Our lineage has been preserved to assist in that very event."
Susan's eyes widened, as Angelino continued. “There is much lunacy being spread about the millennium as we approach it and it will grow even sillier as the day grows closer. The people do not understand that the coming of the millennium is not an event but a transition. A pot of water does not go from room temperature to a boil instantaneously. The molecules of the water gradually grow more agitated as heat is transferred through the pot of water, until at some point, the water starts to bubble as the air is released from the liquid and the liquid itself is transformed into vaporous steam. The Spirit of Christ has been percolating in the heart of humanity, gradually imbedding itself in our collective consciousness. The Second Coming will see it burst forth with the brilliance of a thousand suns."
Susan sat absorbing Angelino's words, staring into the fire. “Why am I here, Father Angelino?” she asked softly. “What possible value could I be to such an important event?"
Angelino responded with just two words, “The flower."
* * * *
THE THUMP OF the Concord's wheels woke Julian from a sound sleep as the plane landed. It was nighttime in Paris. He planned to gather up his baggage, grab a cab to the hotel, and settle in for the night. He would begin his investigation in earnest in the morning.
Once in his room, he kicked off his shoes, hung up his jacket, slipped off his tie, and plopped onto the bed with the newspaper. What the hell am I doing here? His assignment was like looking for a needle in a haystack, except there was no certainty that the needle even existed ... or even what it looked like. It was an overwhelming proposition, but he knew he'd find a way. He always did. He knew Arnold had sent him here because he had faith in his abilities. Julian was determined not to return empty-handed.
He started browsing the newspaper he had picked up at the airport. He flipped the pages casually. On page four, something caught
his eye. A banquet was being held in three days for the de Charny family, one of the richest and oldest families of the French aristocracy. He stopped to read the entire article. The de Charny dynasty's roots were apparently cloudy, but extended back to sometime before the Middle Ages. The first de Charny about whom anything was known was Francois de Charny. He had been a rich land baron and was courted by the king of France as an ally in his wars with neighboring kingdoms. Together, they had been victorious over a succession of invaders, consolidating power and absorbing lands with amazing rapidity. Francois refused any overtures of public display, preferring to remain the power behind the throne.
Julian sat up abruptly when he read the next paragraph. For most of the fourteenth century, Geoffrey de Charny, a knighted descendant of Francois, had been the possessor of the Shroud of Turin, before the Shroud disappeared for several decades. It might just be a coincidence, but the Shroud connection was too much to ignore. He picked up the phone and rang the front desk.
"I'd like an overseas connection please. The number is country code 011, area code 202, number 555-0809. Yes, I'll stand by. Call me when you've placed the call."
Julian folded the newspaper and lay back on the bed. The Shroud of Turin. He'd never really paid much attention to it. He made a mental note to rectify that as soon as he could. For now, it was sufficient to understand that the renegade priest, Angelino, had publicly admitted to the theft of this religious relic, for reasons that were still unknown. The de Charny family was one of ancient lineage and it had been the guardian of the Shroud. Might Angelino's theft of the Shroud been some sort of veiled message to the de Charnys? Had it been the initial salvo fired in his war against The Council? Was there some deeper meaning to the Shroud that was known to only the players in the high stakes game that Angelino claimed The Council was playing? He knew that he was indulging a flight of speculative fancy, but he had nothing else to go on.
He started at the ringing of the phone next to his bed.
"Yes, this is Julian Michaels. Thank you, operator. Please put the call through."
"Julian, is that you?” Arnold Wills’ voice crackled through the line.
"Arnold, I think I might have a lead."
"Already? I'm impressed."
"I'm serious. Call it a hunch, but I need to you get me invited to a big bash being held here Thursday night for a de Charny family."
"The de Charny family?"
"You know them?"
"Hell, yeah. Old money. Lineage going back to the Stone Age, or thereabouts. Big players, but very, very quiet behind-the-scenes types."
"Did you know that they had the Shroud of Turin in their possession for the better part of a hundred years in the fourteenth century?"
"How the hell did you find that out?” Arnold asked, clearly impressed.
"You should take up French sometime, Arnold. It's in all the papers over here.” Then more seriously, “Can you get me in? I'll need some sort of legitimate pretext to be there. I know it's short notice, but maybe you can draw a favor from one of your Black Ops contacts."
"I'll see what I can do. You think its worth all this trouble?"
"I'm not sure. It strikes me as too much of a coincidence to ignore though."
"OK. We'll make it happen. I'll get back to you in a few hours with details. We'll have to courier the documents to you."
"I'm going to get a few hours sleep so I can ease my way into French time. I'll stand by for your call."
"Good night, Julian. Good work. And be careful."
Julian hung up the phone. He didn't need to be cautioned twice. Money and power were always protective of themselves. If the de Charnys were connected to The Council they would be doubly so, especially now.
He turned off the light and lay in the dark, not bothering to undress for bed. The worst part would be the waiting. It always was.
Chapter 10
"HAVE YOU LOCATED Angelino yet?” Number One asked. The Exalted Council of the Most Highs was in full session.
"No, Number One, I fear we have not."
"The clone of Jesus?"
"We do not know for certain one such as he exists."
"Oh, he exists. Make no mistake about that. But it is unclear which of them poses the greater danger to The Agenda. Jesus will not be a problem immediately. He will need to acclimate himself with our times. That will take time. Angelino, on the other hand, has knowledge that even The Council was unaware of. I worry about the Knighthood. How could we have missed them all these centuries?"
"Perhaps we have missed them because they do not really exist, Number One."
Number One shot a hard glance at his lieutenant. “We cannot afford to assume that! I think we are safer to assume that the fact that they have remained unknown to us is because they have been as committed and disciplined in their mission as we have been in ours. Silence and secrecy has been our strength. It has been theirs as well.” Number One's fist slammed onto the table. “We should have been prepared for this!"
"I want you at the de Charny affair Thursday, Number Two. We must keep a protective eye on our friends."
Number One paused for a moment and segued into the next topic. “The next item is the American situation. As you all know, President Crowley is being effectively persecuted by his political enemies. We understand that the Special Prosecutor is building a strong case against him. His effectiveness to The Agenda is seriously compromised. We must make a decision—save his presidency, or accelerate its demise and replace him with Vice President Dale. Thoughts?"
Number Three said, “I say we cut our losses and remove him."
Number Seven countered, “Under other circumstances, I might be inclined to agree with Number Three. However, the Angelino situation compels us to be cautious about making destabilizing moves. Acclimating a new president with such little preparation time is difficult."
"It could very well be more dangerous to leave Crowley in office. Angelino has named him a member of The Council,” Number Three responded.
"No. Angelino made it clear that the office of the presidency was the link to us. Replacing Crowley won't make any difference in that regard,” Number One interjected.
"But Crowley has a lot of light shining on him because of the investigation,” Number Three said. “A less controversial president might keep people from asking too many questions."
Number Seven said, “Crowley is a popular president, despite the investigations. The American people may be disregarding any evidence which portrays him negatively."
Number One spoke. “Number Seven assesses the situation correctly. This is not the time for disruptions in the American political system. We will marshal all necessary resources to protect President Crowley from removal from office."
"Will that be sufficient, if he ends up effectively stripped of all power and influence?” Number Four asked.
Number One considered that for a moment. “Number Four is correct. We must manufacture a major political victory for Crowley. Number Two, what is the number one concern of the American people right now?"
"That would be the unemployment rate, Number One. It has been rising steadily for the past six months."
"Fix it,” Number One demanded.
"It will be done."
* * * *
"WE ARE WASTING time here,” Armand Mathias was pacing the cabin.
"What would you have us do, Mathias, throw him to the wolves?"
"We have to tell him everything, Steven. He has a right to know what has happened to him."
Steven considered this. As much as he hated agreeing with Mathias about anything, he had to admit he had a good point. He also knew that Mathias was thinking only about how he could benefit from his association with Jesus, but that didn't invalidate his point.
John spoke up, “I think Mathias is right, Steven. I'm going stir crazy here. We all are."
Jesus said, “You speak of me as if I am not here.” Steven's head spun in the direction of Jesus. “Tell me everything. I want t
o know. I need to know."
"I'm sorry, Jesus.” Steven exchanged glances with John and Mathias.
"What do you say, Steven?” Mathias pressed.
Steven sighed. “Ok. I guess maybe you're right. It's time. Jesus, how much do you remember?” he asked.
Jesus seemed hesitant to share his memories. Steven thought it might be a sign that he remembered more than he was letting on. On the other hand, it could be honest confusion. He imagined that as memories came rushing back to Jesus, a certain amount of disorientation was bound occur.
"It's ok, Jesus. You can tell us."
"I remember everything,” he said softly.
"Everything?” Steven asked incredulously.
Jesus nodded. “I don't understand it all but remember now."
"Whoa,” John whistled.
"Tell us what you remember. It's very important that we know."
Jesus nodded. “Let us walk while I talk. I like to be outside in fresh air."
"Sure, why not?” Steven said. Jesus was learning English very well, he noted.
The afternoon was comfortable and sunny. Jesus appeared deep in thought as he led them to no place in particular. He walked slowly. Mathias started to speak but was stopped by Steven
"Let him tell us in his own way."
Finally, Jesus stopped, turned around and began speaking.
"Grasping that so much time has passed is difficult,” he began. “So many things have changed. I come from a land that is very far from here. When I lived there, it was called Nazareth. It was a small village, but it was a peaceful place to grow up. My father was a worker of wood, how do you say...?"
"A carpenter,” Mathias offered.
"Yes. A carpenter. My mother was a daughter of the House of David. He was a great king who lived many years before I was born. But then, the Romans ruled my people and my mother's family found it wise to not reveal themselves to the Romans. The Romans were ruthless rulers. As long as we remained quiet and went about our daily lives, they were content to leave us alone. But many of my countrymen hated the Romans. They hid in the hills and raided Roman outposts from time to time. They were foolish men who had no plan. They struck out in anger, but they had nothing to offer the people other than to bring the anger of the Romans upon them as ... forgive me, I still struggle with your language ... retaliation for these raids. Yet, many of my people admired these raiders. What else had they to cling to? We were a people who had nothing but hope to live on.
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