Shrouded Destiny

by Richard William Bates

  "This government will be comprised of a Chief Minister, answerable to an international tribunal, which in turn will be answerable to the General Assembly and Security Council. A third branch, an international court, will be created to preside over all matters of international disputes between nations and their citizens."

  Again, cheers and applause erupted from the chamber as the entire delegation rose to its feet in unified support of the initiative advanced by Jesus.

  Harold grabbed the remote control and turned the television off with annoyance. “Jesus sure learned the vocabulary of demagoguery quickly,” he said sourly. “Tell me truthfully, gentlemen,” he continued. “Am I being unreasonable? Is it possible the years have made me cynical and cold? Is what he is proposing so horrible?"

  Arnold and Ray squirmed a bit. The question was a penetrating one, when one stopped to consider it. After all, how could a person who called themselves caring and feeling—and despite the nature of their work, the gentlemen in the room all considered themselves to be such—dismiss what Jesus had just proposed as anything but worthy of advancement? Wasn't a better life the ultimate aim of politics, at least when practiced by men of integrity? Wasn't Jesus showing them the way to such a life? It was reasonable to ask oneself what could possibly be wrong with proposals that were all clearly designed to bring that life into being for all of mankind?

  It was Stuart who finally spoke up. “Harold, you know I have been a liberal all my political life. I was bred as such by my family. You might wish to argue that is the result of a guilt-ridden family conscience, but let us not debate that point for now. Suffice it to say I have been comfortable as a liberal, as you know."

  Harold smiled wryly, remembering the countless times he and his friend had butted heads on the Senate floor. There were times when he marveled they had managed to retain their friendship in the face of such battles.

  Stuart continued. “Whatever you might think of my liberalism, I know you understand I truly believe in the causes I have espoused over my career. What I have always disliked about Gene Crowley is he does not truly believe in the cause. To him, promises are a way of seducing the people—bribing them with their own money, in essence. He only cares about the things he proposes insofar as they keep him riding the crest of a wave of public support.

  "I don't like this,” he said gravely. “I smell Crowley's lust for power behind all of this. He might very well be using Jesus to gain that power."

  "Or vice versa,” Ray said thoughtfully

  "What do you mean, Ray?” Harold asked.

  "Think about it. Of the two of them, who has the real popularity—the real power—Crowley or Jesus? Crowley has been hanging on to his popularity by his fingernails—until Jesus came on the scene. This Jesus is not what most of us expected, I think it is safe to say. Jesus knows the world is so hungry for a savior—and his return was prophesied for so many years—that they are ready to follow one without question. I mean, what have they had as an example of leadership lately, Eugene Crowley? Crowley is just along for the ride on this one, if you ask me. Jesus is calling all the shots."

  "Hmm,” Harold muttered thoughtfully. “That could very well be true. But it seems to me it doesn't matter who is calling the shots. Public perception is that a vote for Crowley is a vote for Jesus."

  "And who is going to vote against Jesus on anything ... or speak out against him?” Arnold added.

  "I will,” Harold said, firmly.

  "As will I,” Stuart added.

  "You'll be crucified. Both of you,” Ray said solemnly.

  Harold shrugged. “So be it."

  * * * *

  "MS. MORGAN, PLEASE. I must speak to you.” Nicole Chambleau stopped Susan in the lobby of the hotel. Susan turned in surprise to see a petite, attractive young lady standing behind her.

  "Yes? What can I do for you?"

  Nicole looked demurely from Susan to Angelino and back again. She hesitated.

  "You can speak freely in front of Father Angelino,” she smiled. “He is my friend."

  The young lady seemed to shrink with shyness at that suggestion. Susan smiled and said to Angelino, “It's okay. Let me talk to her alone."

  Angelino nodded, sat down in a chair in the lobby and began reading the newspaper. Cassidy, Billy, and Imahoptec followed suit.

  Susan took Nicole off to the side. “Now, what can I help you with?” she said kindly. She studied the youthful face of the woman who stood before her. Her azure blue eyes looked up at Susan like the eyes of a frightened deer. Her posture was somewhat stooped and insecure. She began talking with nervous rapidity.

  "Oh, Ms. Morgan. You don't know what a thrill this is for me, to meet you. I saw you on the television. You were so beautiful and strong, the way you stood shoulder to shoulder with such powerful men. I said to Mama and Papa, ‘You see, Mama, you see, Papa? That is the kind of woman I want to be.'

  "But they only looked at me as if I was from another planet. ‘What are you talking about, Nicole?’ Mama said to me. Oh, I am so rude. Here I am talking your ear off and I have not had the manners to introduce myself to you. I am Nicole Chambleau, Ms. Morgan.” She offered her hand and did a slight curtsy as Susan accepted it. She continued without missing a beat, as Susan watched, her eyes widening with amusement. This young woman may have been scattered and frightened, but she had a natural charm about her Susan was drawn to.

  "'Mama,’ I said ... and I started to cry. ‘Why can you not understand I want to make a difference in the world ... that I want to help people, like Susan Morgan does.’ But Mama only stared at me with blank eyes.

  "The next morning, I took some money that I had—my family is very wealthy—and decided to come to America.” She finally managed to look into Susan's eyes directly. Her eyes carried a silent hope. “I came to meet you, Ms. Morgan,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  Susan seemed genuinely flattered. Nicole smiled inwardly. The good at heart were always so easy to dupe. A little flattery and they were eating out of your hand. Susan smiled and put her hands on the young woman's shoulders gently.

  "Miss Chambleau, you are very kind. But why would you go to such lengths to meet me?” she smiled kindly.

  "Oh, I told you, Mademoiselle, I admire you so very much.” she said, her eyes wide and with near reverence in her voice. Then her face fell and she said, “You are displeased with me."

  "No, of course not, Nicole. You are very kind. What are your plans while you are here?"

  Nicole wrung her hands together nervously, her eyes making and then breaking contact with Susan's. “I was hoping ... no I cannot imagine it,” she stopped herself. She cast her eyes downward.

  Susan placed a hand on her shoulder and said gently, “Calm down, Nicole. Would you like to sit down?"

  Nicole shook her head, “No, Mademoiselle, but thank you.” She swallowed and bit her lower lip anxiously. “I was hoping you might have a job for me, Mademoiselle Morgan. I want to learn from you. And ... and ... and you have been so close to Jesus ... how lucky you are."

  "I would love to help you out, Ms. Chambleau, but I can't,” Susan said.

  Nicole's face fell. “Oh. I understand, Mademoiselle. I have been pushy and rude. I will leave you now.” She started to turn and walk away.

  "No, Nicole, it isn't that,” Susan reached out and stopped her. “It's just that I just quit my job. I have no work for you. I could not pay you."

  "Oh, I see,” Nicole was clearly crestfallen.

  "I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing, Nicole,” Susan said. “Do you need any money to get home?"

  Nicole waved her hand casually. “Oh, Mademoiselle. I do not need money. My family is very rich, like I said. I have much money. I can stay as long as I want to in America."

  "Are you sure?” Susan said, sincerely concerned.

  "Oui. But I am so sad I cannot work for you."

  Susan smiled. “That is very kind of you, Nicole. But there isn't really any work I could offer you. And like I said, I
could not pay you."

  "Oh, Mademoiselle."

  Susan interrupted. “Please, call me ‘Susan'."

  "Oui, Susan. You would not have to pay me."

  "I could not ask you to do that, dear,"

  "But I would not mind. It would be an honor just to be with you ... to serve you."

  Susan laughed. “Nicole, we do not have servants in this country. I could not do that, even if I wanted to."

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Morgan, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation.” Angelino had put down his newspaper and moved toward the two young women. He smiled at Nicole sweetly and extended his hand, “I am Angelino, Ms. Chambleau. It's a pleasure to meet you."

  Nicole's face dropped in awe. “You mean you are the Father Angelino?"

  "Yes, my child, I am. At your service.” He bowed his head slightly.

  "Oh, my,” she gasped, clearly awed. “I did not see you, Father Angelino. I mean, I did not realize it was you."

  "Yeah, he goes invisible once in a while,” Susan smiled, with a sideways glance toward Angelino.

  "I could not help but overhear you say you are an admirer of our Susan here,” Angelino said to Nicole.

  "Oui, Father. That I am."

  Angelino put his hands behind his back and appeared to be in deep thought for a moment. Then he said, “We are about to embark on a long journey, Ms. Chambleau. Why don't you join us?"

  Susan jerked her head toward Angelino in surprise.

  "Father Angelino,” she said, as sweetly as she could. “May I have a word with you privately?” She pulled him aside without waiting for a response. “Please excuse us for a moment, Nicole."

  "What are you doing?” she whispered. “We don't even know this girl."

  "Oh, but I do, Susan. The Chambleau family in France has close ties with the Council."

  "What?” Susan said, genuinely shocked.

  "It is obvious this young lady has been sent to spy on me. She probably also has orders to kill me."

  "Then why would you want her traipsing along with us?” she practically hissed. “That's insane!"

  "Susan, it is better to have her where we can keep our eye on her than to have her lurking about where she may strike with no warning. Do not forget the proverb, ‘keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.’ Besides, I have other plans for her."

  "What are you talking about? You don't even know this girl. Father Angelino, I cannot allow you to take such a risk. I think the others would agree with me."

  "Susan,” Angelino's voice took on that tone Susan could never resist. “The risk is mine to take, not yours ... or theirs. Please trust me on this. Have I let you down yet?"

  "No, you haven't. But I don't like this. What if she gets to you while the rest of us are preoccupied? It's a foolish risk, Father Angelino. I don't understand why you wish to make yourself so vulnerable."

  Angelino grew serious. “Because I must, Susan."

  Susan saw arguing was pointless. She sighed, “I guess, if you want to gamble with your life, who am I to stop you? I'll let everyone else know so they can keep an eye on her."

  "No,” Angelino said firmly. “You mustn't mention this to the others. This will remain between you and me. Do you understand me, Susan?"

  Susan was taken aback by the demanding tone Angelino used. She nodded her head.

  "Good,” Angelino smiled, once more his gentle self. “Let's go tell our little assassin the good news,” he winked.

  "Nicole,” Angelino called out as they rejoined her. “We have talked it over and if you are really sure you would like to join us, we would be happy to have you along."

  Nicole clasped her hands together in delight. “Do you mean it?” she squealed.

  "Yes, my dear,” Angelino nodded with a smile.

  Nicole threw her arms around Angelino. Susan tensed protectively, at first thinking the sudden gesture was a threatening one. “Oh, thank you, Father Angelino,” Nicole exclaimed, hugging the priest tightly. She kissed him on the cheek. “You will see, Father Angelino and Susan. You will not even know I am around. I will be quiet like an itty bitty mouse."

  Susan was tempted to roll her eyes, but forced a smile instead. Knowing the true intention of Nicole certainly put her performance in a new light.

  "Nicole, go gather your things and meet us back here. Our journey is about to begin,” Angelino said to her.

  "Oui, Father Angelino,” Nicole said. “I will be back in ten minutes. Thank you again so much,” she gushed. With that, she turned and headed up to her room. Susan and the others did not see the smile of triumph she allowed to cross her face as she headed for the elevator.

  * * * *

  What fools these people are. So trusting. Yes, she had to guard against being foolhardy. They might be gullible and naive, but they were not stupid. It was clear they would die for each other if it came to that. Her advantage ... and it was a great advantage ... was that she, too, was willing to die for her mission, if it came to that. Throughout history, there had never been a defense devised which could stop a person who was willing to die in order to kill. That crazy Marine who had attempted to kill Jesus had been a stark reminder of that. She would try to find a way to accomplish her mission without having to sacrifice her own life, but if that proved to be impossible, then so be it. In the interim, she would learn all she could and report what she learned to the Council. No matter how events transpired, she was now positioned to stop Angelino and his pompous Knights of the Ascension. Above all else, that was her mission.

  * * * *

  STEVEN HAMILTON POURED over the same printouts for the umpteenth time. Finally, he threw the papers onto his desk in frustration. How ironic it was that his greatest accomplishment ... no, the greatest accomplishment in the history of biological science, he corrected himself ... should have brought him to this sorry place.

  Yes, he had the most advanced state of the art laboratory in his field. Yes, their work was yielding some very encouraging results—they were tantalizingly close to unlocking the mechanism which caused viruses to multiply, putting them on the threshold of discovering the means of eradicating countless diseases, not the least of which was AIDS. Yes, his reputation had grown to where he was regarded as the greatest mind in his field. In spite of all that, he had arrived at the pinnacle of his field, as he had dreamed of doing his entire life, only to discover the achievement left him feeling empty and unfulfilled.

  He suspected John Barber felt much the same. Steven had always been able to count on John for some wise-ass remark that was usually profane and hilarious at the same time. John's anti-establishment personality had always been a source of great humor to him. But that spark of defiance seemed to have been dimmed considerably, if not completely extinguished.

  Steven slumped back in his chair and started crumpling papers up into wads and throwing them into the wastebasket, deliberately placed a distance away so the task became more of a contest to him. Crumpled papers littered the floor in the vicinity of the wastebasket, as an unofficial scorecard of his past successes, or lack thereof.

  John strolled into his office. He seemed a bit more upbeat than he had been of late.

  "I think they're here, Steven.” The arrival of the Senators and their associates was a welcome break in their routine, which accounted for John's upturn in mood, he guessed. He also expected John was looking forward to giving the senators a piece of his mind for the way they were treated by the subcommittee. Steven wasn't about to hold John back, if that was his inclination.

  The four visitors entered Steven's office.

  "Doctor Hamilton, thank you for allowing us the opportunity to meet with you. As I recall, our last meeting was not under the happiest of circumstances,” Harold smiled.

  "Not at all, Senator. Happy to meet with you,” Steven shook Harold's hand. Introductions were made and Steven offered the use of the conference room.

  Once they were all seated at the table, Harold began. “The reason we are here, gentlemen, is to
discuss Jesus."

  Steven had suspected as much when the senator had called to arrange the meeting the day before. Like the others there, he was concerned by Jesus’ behavior.

  "Before we get too far into things,” Harold continued, “I want you both to know we are here totally unofficially and off the record. We are not here with any other intent than to learn what the hell is going on."

  John glared at Harold. He couldn't forget the hearings before the Senate committee earlier in the year. John never doubted for one minute the outcome was rigged from the start, and he was pretty sure Harold was behind the machinations. Now the sonofabitch was there looking for help from them.

  "Senator Bennett,” John spoke up. “Refresh my memory here. Why exactly should we have any inclination to help you?"

  Harold peered at John over his glasses, a bit annoyed at this unexpected sidetrack. He regarded him for a moment, seeing the hardness on his face. He removed his glasses and sat back in his chair thoughtfully.

  "Ah, yes. The hearings. I had forgotten."

  "Well, I haven't, Senator,” John said coldly.

  "Okay,” Harold said, seeing John wasn't going to let it go. “Let's clear the air here."

  "Senator, you know it isn't the fact the decision went against us that pisses me off,” John said. “It's the fact the hearings were a sham from the get-go. You had already made your decision. The hearings were a showpiece for the press and the public."

  Harold simply looked at John. He was right, of course. That was often the case with senate hearings. The fix had been in on the anti-cloning legislation from the start. Harold had known that, but he had never known by whose orders the fix had been made.

  "Doctor Barber, it might surprise you to hear me agree with you. You're right. The hearings were fixed from the beginning. There was never any doubt the anti-cloning bill was going to be passed. A lot of people were frightened by the potential of cloning. But I had nothing to do with the outcome."