Shrouded Destiny

by Richard William Bates

  Again a heavy silence hung over the room. Harold spoke up next. “Then who is he? Who is Jesus?"

  "Haven't you figured that out yet, Senator Bennett?” Angelino said gravely. “You ask the wrong question. The question is not ‘Who is he?’ ... The correct question is ‘What is he?’”

  "Angelino?” John said, his face wearing an expression of both horror and realization. “We've unleashed the anti-Christ, haven't we?"

  The others gasped as Angelino closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, the anti-Christ is among us, seducing the people of the world with his siren song of material attainment."

  Stuart, who had remained quiet throughout most of the discussion said, “If I remember Revelations correctly, the anti-Christ appears before the Christ returns."

  "Yes, Senator Hatcher,” Angelino said. “The anti-Christ must appear before the Christ can appear to overcome him. He will even reign supreme for a time before he is overcome and a world of true peace is created."

  Steven grew angry as the full impact of what he was hearing hit him. His eyes flared as he turned toward Angelino. “You knew! You sonofabitch. You set us up. You used us and our research to unleash this abomination. Goddammit. Armand Mathias was right all along."

  Angelino smiled.

  "What's so damn funny?” Steven demanded.

  "I was just trying to imagine a world in which Armand Mathias was right."

  Harold smiled at that, in spite of himself.

  "Don't change the subject, Angelino.” Steven wasn't through giving him a piece of his mind. “How could you do this? How could you intentionally unleash the anti-Christ on us?"

  "Doctor Hamilton,” Angelino said calmly. “I was not aware you believed in religious matters."

  "That isn't the point,” Steven answered hotly. “All this bullshit you gave me about a golden opportunity to learn what really happened, the historic importance of my discovery, the great service I would be doing mankind. It was all a crock of shit."

  "It was not, to use your colorful term, a crock of ‘shit,’ Doctor Hamilton. You have done all of that.” He gestured around the surroundings. “And you have not done too badly for yourself, either."

  "I've done a great service for mankind?” Steven's face grew red with anger. “If this Jesus you had me clone is some sort of incarnation of evil, the anti-Christ, whatever you want to call it, you call that a service to mankind?"

  Angelino nodded and said quietly, “Yes, more than you know, although that may not be clear to you now."

  "I'm afraid I have to agree with, Doctor Hamilton,” Harold said. “I can see no benefit to unleashing the anti-Christ upon the people."

  Stuart jumped in. “Let's not be hasty here, gentlemen. I may not be the world's most religious man, but I know my Bible. According to Revelations, the anti-Christ will arrive. That is not an optional occurrence. With or without Father Angelino's intervention, he would have appeared."

  "Senator Hatcher is correct,” Angelino said. “As long as the anti-Christ was a forgone conclusion, was it not better to control the manner of his appearance?"

  Stuart nodded his agreement. By the faces of the others in the room, it was clear they were not as convinced, although Steven's anger had subsided. John felt for his friend. It was not easy to accept that they had been the conduit for the manifestation of the anti-Christ.

  "Furthermore,” Angelino continued, “it is better we know who he is rather than have to play a guessing game and waste time trying to figure it out."

  "But why Jesus?” Ray wanted to know.

  "Yeah, I'd like to know that, too,” Harold added.

  "The final conflict cannot be avoided,” Angelino explained. “It is better to bring things to a head quickly before the waters can muddy too much.” Then his eyes met Ray's and he said, “Perhaps a better question is, why are the people of the world so quick to follow the person who promises them the most?"

  An eerie silence descended on the room. Harold and Stuart exchanged glances. Angelino's question was a telling one and it was one that had crossed each of their minds more than once, although neither of them had spoken it out loud.

  "Is it fair to blame that on the people?” Ray asked.

  "I would not say it was as much ‘blame’ as it was ‘accountability.’ The people of the world have many lessons to learn about their responsibility for the lives they create for themselves. That is perhaps the greatest lesson of the next millennium. If you want to help the people of your world, I suggest you begin there. Evil cannot exist where it is not invited, Mr. Cutler. Your world is quite friendly to evil."

  Interesting, Harold thought. “Your world.” What did he mean by that? Harold was about to ask, when Angelino stood up abruptly and said, “I must leave you now. May God be with you."

  He added, “Perhaps this will comfort you: Now that the anti-Christ has arrived, the way is paved for the Christ to appear."

  Before any of them could say a word, the same blinding light with which Angelino had appeared enveloped the priest and when it subsided, Angelino was no longer in the room.

  The six men remained silent, each wishing to sort out their own thoughts. Warrenger smiled slyly to himself off in the corner. So this Jesus fellow was the anti-Christ. What a wonderful development for the Council. His instincts had been right about him after all. He was one of them, indeed, he was the very One they had been waiting for all these centuries. So these fools thought the Bible was some sort of pre-scripted game plan ... that the forces of “good"—he smirked to himself at that term—were fated to win. Well, they'd see about that. Warrenger and the Council had not come all this way, had not created the institutions for control it had, and had not slowly conditioned the minds of the public to be willing to accept the One as their savior, just to have it all thwarted by Angelino and the fools in this room. Angelino was playing a dangerous game, and he had just made a huge mistake in revealing the true identity of Jesus to them. But then, how could he have known he was playing right into the Council's hands? Never before had Number One felt so confident of their ultimate success.

  * * * *

  "SO, FATHER ANGELINO,” Susan asked as the light around the rematerializing priest faded. “Did you tell them?"

  "Yes,” he answered quietly. “Now they know."

  "I still can't believe it,” Susan said. Angelino had filled Susan and the others in on Jesus before he departed to meet with the men in Steven's lab.

  "Why not, Susan? You have always had your suspicions about Jesus. As always, my dear, you were more accurate than you knew."

  "Why have you decided not to go public with that information?"

  "The people would never believe me, Susan. Many of them think I am insane already. All that would accomplish would be to weaken our credibility. We will let the plan unfold and allow Jesus to bring about his own demise. All that is important is the final outcome."

  Susan nodded in understanding. “What do we do now?” Susan inquired.

  "We do what we have always intended to do, Susan. We depart for India ... and we accelerate your training."

  * * * *

  BACK AT THE LAB, Ray Cutler pulled Steven Hamilton off to the side, while the others murmured about what had just transpired.

  "Doctor Hamilton, I want you to do me a favor, please.” He slipped a small plastic bag to him so the others didn't see. He gripped Steven's hands to let him know he did not want the others to know he had given him the bag.

  "What's this?"

  "I want you to run a DNA test of this against the DNA of Jesus you have in your files. Don't tell anyone but me what the results are, OK? I will tell the others."

  "Why the secrecy?"

  "Just playing it safe, Doctor Hamilton. Will you do it?"

  Steven nodded and pocketed the bag containing a couple of strands of hair.

  21

  JESUS STOOD WITH his hands behind his back, surveying the lit city of Washington as seen from the Oval Office. Crowley sat in the chair where Harvey Thatch
er usually sat, watching Jesus watch the city.

  Jesus was wearing his traditional white robe. A closer look revealed it was not actually the traditional robe. This one was trimmed with thin gold, which ran the circumference of the sleeves and along the bottom of the hem, as well as along the collar. This added a vaguely defined sparkle to his walk and his arm gestures. Jesus used arm gestures masterfully, with the grace of a skilled mime, emphasizing rather than distracting from the points he articulated.

  The robe itself was a brilliant white and never, Crowley had observed to himself time and again, seemed to get soiled, no matter what climatic conditions Jesus might find himself in. Crowley was a man not easily intimidated by another. Yet he found himself feeling uneasy whenever he was around Jesus. It was a vague uneasiness that flitted around the edges of his awareness, and he probably could not have articulated it, let alone identify it completely. He was slowly beginning to feel like his influence was slipping away in favor of the influence of Jesus. Indeed, had it not been the administration's association with Jesus that had all but rendered Arnold Will's investigation moot?

  Jesus had saved his presidency; of that there was no doubt. But at what cost? What exactly had been won if it had been attained at the price of his political power and—he found himself oddly thinking—his soul.

  He jolted within at that thought. Odd that I would phrase it that way ... in terms of selling my soul ... in regard to Jesus. That was a tactic more commonly associated with ... Crowley pushed the thought and all its implications out of his mind as quickly as it entered it.

  Jesus intruded upon Crowley's thoughts without bothering to turn and face him, “I want to thank you for all of your help, President Crowley. You do the citizens of the world a great service in supporting the causes we share so strongly ... the causes of My Father."

  Crowley did not respond. His thoughts shifted to wondering why Jesus had maneuvered the situation so the two of them were alone in the Oval Office. He knew it wasn't by happenstance.

  "What is the status of our military presence in the mid-east, Mr. President?” Jesus said abruptly, still directing his attention out the window.

  "What?” Crowley was caught totally by surprise by the question.

  "How strong are our ground forces in the region?” Jesus continued.

  "Uh, we don't really have any ground forces stationed in the Mideast, Jesus. We have some navy ships deployed to be able to respond quickly if necessary, some air bases in Turkey, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia. And of course, we heavily support the Israeli army with funding and weapons shipments on an ongoing basis."

  Jesus nodded his understanding.

  "Why do you want to know that?” Crowley asked warily. Will I get a straight answer? he wondered. Will I know if I do?

  Jesus ignored the question and asked, “Are there any unstable situations in that area?"

  "Not any more than usual."

  "Any of our nuclear weapons in the region?"

  "No. Our policy is to keep nuclear weapons out of the region to prevent their accidental use."

  Jesus continued staring out the window with his back turned to Crowley.

  "I think we should meet with your generals. What is it you call them?"

  "The Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Crowley offered automatically. What did Jesus want to meet with them for? What was churning through his mind? Although he could not see his face, he could almost feel Jesus’ thoughts formulating, even if he could not discern their content.

  "You do not have to concern yourself with military matters, Jesus. We have our military situation well in hand around the world,” Crowley offered.

  "Do you?” Jesus finally turned to face the President of the United States. He sat down in the president's chair behind the large wooden desk. “I'm relieved to know that.” Jesus smiled ironically at Crowley.

  "I have a question for you, Mr. President,” Jesus grew serious. “You continuously squander your military power on insignificant squabbles in tiny little nothing countries. Why?"

  "Why?” Crowley was thrown by the question. It was as if someone had just asked him why there was a color blue ... there just was.

  Jesus peered directly into Crowley's eyes with that penetrating unsmiling stare of his. It was the salesman's technique—whoever talks next buys the product. Crowley felt the discomfort the stare was designed to elicit.

  Crowley attempted the textbook answer. “The United States is committed to the cause of freedom around the world. We only intervene when liberty is threatened."

  Jesus lowered his eyes and considered his answer for a moment before responding, “Come now, Mr. President. That's hogwash and we both know it.” He smiled with a trace of menace. “You keep insisting on trying my patience and insulting my intelligence when you lie to me like that."

  Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Jesus was right. He was nobody's fool and there was no sense in pushing it with him. Of all the people in the world, Jesus was the last person he wished to make an enemy.

  "There are two reasons America goes to war, Mr. President: to obtain or protect resources and to extend her power and influence. The reasons you give the people are merely justifications designed to win their support and approval. As you learned with the sad experience of your Vietnam War, if you are unsuccessful in persuading people the war you are fighting is for a noble cause, they will withdraw their support. Then they will turn on you for losing the war.

  "If you are going to lie to the people, you must make the lie work. It does not even matter if the lie makes sense. You must act as if it is true, and it will be believed no matter how outlandish it is. Adolph Hitler understood that better than any politician of the century, with the possible exception of Franklin Roosevelt."

  Crowley was impressed. Jesus had assimilated modern history with amazing depth. He wondered when Jesus had had the time to learn. He could not recall having ever seen him reading a book or watching a television documentary. He also seemed to understand the reality of politics. Nobody liked the fact you had to lie to get things done. But it was an accepted part of the life and if you did not learn to adapt to it, you had no future in the profession. One did not rise to the top of the political heap by being honest. One rose there by appearing to be honest. Crowley had learned that lesson early. There were always a few people in the congress who clung to the silly belief their job was to serve the people with honor and integrity. They were an annoyance. Senators like Harold Bennett and Stuart Hatcher were always stirring up the shitpot. That day was soon coming to an end, however, he noted with a suppressed smile.

  Why did Jesus want to know about military deployments? Crowley directed his thoughts back to the present.

  "There are going to be many people who are going to oppose our initiatives, Mr. President,” Jesus said. “Some will go so far as to oppose us with force. We must be prepared to meet that force with force of our own. Nothing must stop our plans."

  "The United Nations has peacekeeping forces it dispatches to trouble spots. I imagine we should be able to rely on them to continue to do so to support our initiative,” Crowley responded.

  "Perhaps,” Jesus replied. “When can we meet with your generals?"

  "Um ... I can probably arrange something within the next day or so, Jesus.” Crowley did not bother to argue the point any further. He was still the Commander-in-Chief and he was not going to let Jesus co-opt that role, no matter how popular he was. Then he was struck with a chilling thought. What if my generals choose to follow Jesus over me? Would I be able to do anything about that, if they so chose? For the first time, Crowley realized the fullness of the threat Jesus was to him.

  * * * *

  "FATHER ANGELINO,” MONSIGNOR Cassidy puffed as they made their way up the steep hillside. “Please tell me at least one of the Knights lives on flat ground in a temperate climate."

  Angelino laughed. “Yes, Monsignor Cassidy. One of them did ... you."

  The others laughed along with Ange
lino. Cassidy managed a smile through his labored breath.

  Susan was enjoying herself immensely, in spite of the arduousness of the journey. She was amused at Nicole, gamely trying to fit in, yet muttering under her breath in French, undoubtedly cursing each of them in succession. It had been years since Susan had been challenged physically, as she used to challenge herself on her morning runs, pushing herself to faster and faster times for the same distance covered. Somewhere along the way, she had gotten away from that. She hadn't realized how much she missed it.

  It was also good to get away from Washington. How dirty that city was. Not so much physically dirty as spiritually dirty. She felt her youthful vitality return to her with each passing moment she was away from Jesus, Crowley, Mathias, and the others. Her face was lit with a glow of happiness she could not remember ever having felt before ... even in her unfettered childhood in Colorado. For the moment her thoughts were liberated from the destiny that lay ahead of them.

  Nicole, who had become her unofficial shadow, raced to keep up with her. “Mademoiselle Morgan,” she puffed. “I did not know this journey would be so difficult."

  Susan laughed. Even though she knew Nicole's agenda, there were moments she actually caught herself liking the young Judas in their midst.

  "Do I have to remind you that you insisted on accompanying us?” she answered.

  "Oui.” After a few more labored steps up the incline, she asked, “Why do we not just transport ourselves over this hill, like we did when we left America? It seems we are wasting so much time."

  "I'd like to know that myself,” Monsignor Cassidy agreed.

  "What's the matter with you people?” Susan said lightly. “This is fun. It's good for you.” She took a few more steps and she was at the top. Nicole and the others were soon at the top of the tall hill with her.

  "Oh, my,” Nicole gasped.

  Before them lay a pristine valley of rich rolling greenery which extended as far as the eye could see, ending in a high mountain range just barely visible over the horizon. Odd, Susan thought. When one contemplated India, the first image that would come to mind was the crowded, primitive streets of Calcutta, as depicted in the movies, littered with filth and human debris. India, indeed, had her share of squalor, but she was astonished to discover there were such vistas as the one that lay before them now.