The Cloning

  “I didn’t know . . . but I hoped.”

  He took her hand and drew her close. “Aren’t I lucky that you’re so clever?” Their lips met again, and they sank to the bed.

  Despite the fact that he’d been celibate for months, Marc felt curiously restrained. Certainly he was thrilled at the touch of her silky skin, the sweet scent of her perfume, the feel of her warm, young body pressed against his, and if she’d been Jane or any number of other women, he’d have already ravished her. But tonight his impulse was to be infinitely gentle; there was no rush.

  Why was it so different this time?

  And then it dawned on him: for the first time in his life, he was about to make love, not just have sex. He’d really fallen head over heels, for the first time ever . . . and it was magnificent.

  Thump! Came a noise that seemed to emanate from just outside the door. He and Maria instantly sat up and froze.

  “What was that?” he asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, then silently tiptoed to the door leading into the hallway. She opened it quietly. “Who’s there?”

  There was no answer, so she motioned for Marc to follow her into the adjoining room. Alpha slept soundly, undisturbed by the noise. Maria placed her hand gently on the baby’s back, and he stirred slightly in response to his mother’s touch.

  Marc then signaled her, and they moved stealthily into the empty salon, then into the dining room. There was no sign of life except for a single light in the serving pantry adjacent to the dining room.

  “Did we leave that on when we got the formula?” he inquired.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  “Do you think Sister Costanza suspected anything?”

  “I don’t think so,” Maria replied. “You know, it could have been a noise from upstairs.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed.

  As he led her back toward the bedroom, he noticed that a large, leather-covered chair was askew in the hallway just outside the nursery, as if someone had bumped into it and had no time to put it back in place. Neither of them recalled having seen it in that position before, but admittedly they weren’t exactly thinking about the furniture when they’d passed that way earlier.

  “I think you’d better leave,” Maria said. “No point in taking chances.”

  “I suppose,” he replied with a sigh, making no bones of his disappointment. “If it was somebody, and if anyone should ask what we were doing, we’ll just say that I was in the nursery with you because Alpha seemed a little upset.” He gave her a hurried kiss, told her not to worry, and left.

  Maria went to bed but lay awake most of the night wondering what would happen next.

  *

  First thing the next morning Sister Costanza reported what she'd seen to Cardinal Nani. He thanked her for her vigilance, asked that she keep him informed of any further developments, and assured her that she was doing what the Holy Father would want her to do.

  Nani was highly agitated. His first impulse was to go directly to the Pope with the incriminating information about Marc and Maria. But he immediately realized that Bottero would find out and might implement his threat. No, Nani reasoned, there was no point in destroying himself in order to destroy them. There had to be a better way to make good use of this bonanza without implicating himself directly.

  One course would be to take no action at all, to allow them to continue their affair; certainly they'd expose themselves and create their own downfall eventually. But this could take an extended period time because they'd surely be more cautious after last night's close call. Meanwhile, the public adoration of Maria would continue to build . . . perhaps to the point where the hoi polloi would refuse to believe anything incriminating about her.

  A second course would be to divide and conquer. Surely without Solovino's steadying presence, Maria would be more vulnerable, Nani reasoned, and then he could devise some means to take advantage of her. The Cardinal lifted his telephone and instructed his secretary to ask Marc to come to his office right away.

  *

  Thirty minutes later, Marc arrived. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Doctor Solovino,” Cardinal Nani said.

  “No problem.” Marc replied evenly.

  “I hope you’ve fully recovered from your wound.”

  “It wasn’t serious.”

  “For which we can all be grateful.”

  “What can I do for you?” Marc asked, trying to cloak his apprehension about this unexpected interview.

  “More to the point, what can I do for you? I’ve been remiss in not giving you the attention that you so richly deserve.”

  Nani's affable tone immediately confirmed to Marc that something was up. “Oh, I've been treated very well.”

  “Be that as it may, the fact is that you've been living here in the Vatican almost exclusively for over seven months. But now that it's clear your experiment is a complete success, there's really no reason for us to impose on you any longer.”

  “That's very thoughtful of you,” Marc replied noncommittally.

  “We'll happily arrange for your return to the United States as soon as you like.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your concern, but at the moment there’s nothing that interests me more than the growth of Alpha.”

  Nani smiled unctuously. “That's quite understandable, but you can be kept abreast of his development without sacrificing your personal life or your career in Massachusetts.”

  “You may find this hard to believe,” Marc said in the most pleasant tone he could muster, “but there's no place I'd rather be than right here.”

  The Cardinal was undeterred. “But there is another consideration,” he continued, almost as if he were hesitant to utter the words. “There's the question of Maria.”

  “What question?”

  “Of your relationship with her,” he ventured, keeping his eyes closely trained on Marc to detect any reaction that might shed light on the degree of their attachment. But Marc made no move; he simply waited for Nani to elaborate. “It's obvious that you have a very close attachment to her which, of course, was quite appropriate—indeed necessary—during the early months of her residency here. But now that her life has adjusted to a routine, there is some question about continuing to develop a relationship that might be detrimental to her.”

  “Detrimental in what way?”

  “In that she may become too dependent on your emotional support. One must consider her independence of spirit as an essential ingredient to her long-term happiness.”

  “You talk a fancy game,” Marc commented.

  “I'm sorry if my thoughts elude you,” Nani replied with naked animosity.

  “No they don't elude me at all. But you see, the Holy Father and I have already discussed this in some detail,” Marc explained, “and he requested that I stay here as long as I possibly can. At the moment my plans are to remain here indefinitely.”

  *

  In the Vatican Viewing Room that afternoon, Marc positioned his face behind a newspaper, pretending to read it, so that the pilgrims on the other side of the window couldn't possibly read his lips. “You should have seen his face when I told him that I'd already discussed it with the Pope,” Marc recounted. “I thought he'd have a stroke on the spot.”

  Maria immediately placed herself with her back to the window so that she too could talk freely. “You’re sure he knows about us?”

  “Of course he does.”

  “Then why doesn’t he just tell the Pope?”

  “I don’t know, but you can be sure he has a reason. A good one.”

  Maria was even more worried. “What are we going to do?”

  “Why should we do anything?”

  “Because I want to be with you. But we can't.”

  “Why not?”

  “Marc, you know if word got out that I have a lover . . .”

  “What about a husband?” he asked.

  She was speechless for a long moment. “You'd marry me?”
<
br />   “Isn't that what people do when they're in love?”

  “I thought that wasn't in the cards for you.”

  “Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are. Looks like the deck’s been stacked,” he hedged.

  Suddenly there was a crash as the viewing window was smashed, showering Maria with fragments of broken glass. Before she and Marc could recover from their surprise, a dirty, ill-clothed man jumped through the opening, rushed to the crib and grabbed Alpha. He turned and ran back toward the shattered window. Pandemonium erupted as hundreds of viewers realized what was taking place before their horrified eyes. People shrieked in a babble of languages.

  “Marc, stop him! He's kidnapping Alpha!” Maria screamed.

  Marc had already sprung to his feet and was pursuing the man. “Somebody stop him! Come back here!” Marc shouted.

  Before the man could climb back through the broken window, Marc grabbed his leg and pulled. While he grappled with the abductor, Maria tried to wrest Alpha from his arms without harming the baby in the process.

  Two Carabiniere appeared and pushed their way through the crowd. “Stand back! Clear the way!” they instructed.

  “Take his other arm,” Marc yelled to them, still wrestling with the intruder, “but be careful of the baby!”

  The police quickly subdued the interloper, allowing Maria to pull Alpha from the man's grasp. But in the scuffle, Alpha slipped from her hold and dropped on the edge of the window where a piece of broken glass protruded. His side was pierced.

  “He's cut!” Maria screamed in horror as she lifted Alpha, covered with blood. “Oh, my God! He’s going to bleed to death!”

  “Let's get him to the infirmary,” Marc roared, taking the baby into his own arms. “Quick!” He and Maria rushed from the room.

  Fortunately, Doctor D'Annunzio was on duty, and he took Alpha directly into surgery. Maria and Marc were told to wait outside.

  “How could I have done such a thing?” she moaned.

  “It was an accident, Maria.”

  “If he dies, I want to die too.”

  “He'll be all right,” Marc tried to reassure her, although he too was frantic with worry. He held Maria tightly in a comforting embrace.

  Cardinal Nani entered the waiting room at that moment, and, seeing their closeness, stopped in the doorway, unnoticed by either of them. Almost simultaneously, Doctor D'Annunzio entered from the other direction. Maria rushed to him.

  “How is he? Is he . . .?”

  The doctor looked grim. “We've stopped the bleeding. But he's very weak . . . he must have a transfusion. We're sending to the main hospital for blood.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Maria asked frantically.

  “Maybe there is. The child's blood type is rare. Do you know your type?”

  Maria didn't.

  “What type do you need?” Marc asked.

  “A-B negative,” the doctor replied.

  “That's my type,” Marc told him. “I can donate right now.”

  “You're certain?”

  “Of course. I have a blood donor card.”

  “Good,” D'Annunzio said. “Come with me.” Marc followed, leaving Maria alone.

  Maria crossed herself and prayed, “Please God.”

  Instead of going to console her, Cardinal Nani—who had heard the discussion of blood type—turned and silently left the waiting area. This was the opportunity for which he’d waited.

  *

  That night, Nani reported to the Pope in his private study. “Doctor D’Annunzio says the child will be fine. There will be no disability.”

  “Thanks be to God,” the Pontiff murmured.

  “But there’s some very ugly talk circulating about the coincidence of the rare blood type.” The Pope asked for clarification as Nani had expected. “There are those who have suspected all along that Doctor Solovino perpetrated a hoax,” he continued in a tone of deep regret. “It would have been a simple matter for him to substitute another ovum . . . one fertilized by himself.”

  “How would he have done that?”

  “If you’ll remember, sir, there was a power failure at Doctor Solovino’s laboratory when he was conducting his experiment. The television picture of the ovum was lost for more than ten seconds during which time he could easily have substituted another.”

  “As I recall, there was a storm that caused the power failure. Are you suggesting that Doctor Solovino somehow created the lightning?”

  Cardinal Nani smiled condescendingly. “It was a very convenient opportunity for him. But if that had not happened, he would have created another diversion.”

  “To what end would he have done all this?” the Pope asked, puzzled.

  “To gain scientific immortality. His name has already become famous.”

  The Pope interrupted him in a stern tone. “Doctor Solovino is not an overly ambitious man. He was very hesitant to undertake the investigation in the first place.”

  “So I recollect. But a formal inquiry could answer the allegations . . . and silence the skeptics,” Nani artfully suggested.

  A knock on the door interrupted them. It was Monsignor Lissaro who brought several newspapers with him. “Pardon my interrupting,” he said, “but I thought you should see these. They are all demanding an explanation of the blood type.” Upon hearing this, Nani relaxed imperceptibly, knowing that now Bottero couldn’t blame him.

  “Explanation from whom?” the Pope asked.

  “From Doctor Solovino . . . and yourself,” Lissaro answered with obvious hesitation and regret.

  The Pope scanned the newspapers from several countries. They represented various political points of view, but their demands for a detailed explanation were virtually unanimous. Visibly disturbed, he gravely put the papers aside, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a few moments to prayerfully consider his response. Cardinal Nani waited anxiously.

  Finally the Pope spoke. “Send for Doctor Solovino. I want to speak to him alone.”

  *

  Marc was indignant when he heard the charge. “That would have required some pretty amazing timing on my part, don’t you think, to produce another ovum that was on the verge of multiplying, with my sperm, all in ten seconds? Give me a break! It’s ridiculous.”

  “My heart tells me that it is. And so does common sense. But the seeds of doubt have already been sown, and there's nothing for us to do but answer their questions,” the Pope replied sadly. Clearly his heart was heavy. Marc had fully intended to tell the Pontiff about himself and Maria, but that seemed to be an unnecessary burden at the moment.

  “You’re sorry that you allowed me to do the cloning?” he asked the Pope in a sympathetic tone.

  “Not at all. I still believe that it is God’s will. But we must respond appropriately to end these doubts.”

  “I could end them all in five minutes with a simple DNA comparison,” Mark argued.

  The Pope smiled tolerantly. “That would be the simple way, wouldn’t it? But the Church tends to operate at an antediluvian pace when dealing with momentous questions. And Cardinal Nani has already suggested an inquiry to deal with this matter. So I shall ask Doctor D'Annunzio to head a commission of leading doctors and scientists. I trust that you will cooperate with their investigation to facilitate matters.”

  “Of course. But will you do me a favor? Make sure that there are some non-Catholics on the commission?”

  CHAPTER 16

  At the insistence of Cardinal Nani, the Pope reluctantly agreed to close the Vatican Viewing Room until the outcome of the tribunal was announced. Nani’s ostensible reason was that the Vatican should take a neutral stand in case the tribunal ruled against Marc. He also suggested ominously that physical harm might befall any or all of the principals in spite of stringent security precautions. Bishop Bottero could find no logical reason against Nani’s advice, so he opted to remain silent, believing that in due time the question would be resolved in Marc’s favor. Privately, of course, Nani felt vindicat
ed in his opposition to the cloning and was convinced that the Church would somehow return to its pre-cloning position, tarnished but basically unchanged.

  Maria was relieved to be out of the public’s view; she wanted to focus all her energies on nursing Alpha back to health. Although Marc had never relished being on exhibit in the Viewing Room, he'd become used to the routine, and under these weird circumstances, its absence left something of a void. He felt completely at loose ends.

  He called Nora in Cambridge to suggest that, even though all the arrangements had been made, she once again postpone her long-delayed visit to Rome until this problem was settled. She was disappointed but philosophical.

  “It’s not as if I don’t keep up with you,” she commented. “A day doesn’t pass that you and Maria don’t pop up somewhere in the media. And usually all over the media!”

  “Yes, but I wanted to see you,” he replied. “It’s been too long.”

  “I’ll come over as soon as you get things squared away, don’t worry. And meanwhile, you take care of yourself . . . and Maria.”

  After the conversation, he briefly considered going back to Cambridge without further delay to try picking up the threads of his life and to make some sort of arrangements for Maria and Alpha to join him as soon as possible; after all, neither the Pope nor any member of D'Annunzio's commission had forbade him to leave Rome, but there was a strong possibility that his fame—or notoriety now—would cause problems back in the United States. And he was certain that there'd be trouble if he tried to take Maria and Alpha with him now, so he opted to remain. It also occurred to him that by simply staying put he might avoid the appearance of impropriety. Meanwhile he and Maria were truly in a state of limbo.

  She instinctively believed Marc innocent and was of course troubled by the injustice of it all. Even though she saw how deeply disturbed he was, her youthful naiveté protected her to a degree; she didn't realize the full implications this charge could have on their lives. As for marriage, they both agreed that there was no point in even discussing such a thing until Marc's name had been cleared of the outrageous charges. But the fact that marriage was on their agenda, no matter how far in the future, drew them even closer and exacerbated their frustration.