The Messiah Conspiracy - A gripping page-turning Medical Thriller - [Omnibus Edition containing Book 1 & Book 2]

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  He hated ‘working’ on people he liked…and Mike was surprised just how much he genuinely liked Louisa.

  .

  Switching into work mode, he spent the rest of the evening focussing on Louisa, establishing as deep a rapport with her as possible. It was essential to his plan that she invited him back for coffee and asked him to spend the night with her. That part should be easy though.

  One of the most useful and powerful techniques that he had learned during his field training was how to use Neuro-Linguistic Programming to seduce and hypnotise women. Already he had led Louisa into a powerful mental state where she felt incredibly attracted to Mike, and now he was slowly programming her to sexually desire and want him.

  It always surprised him how incredibly simple and effective it was to do.

  From carefully observing her responses to several key questions which he asked her during their conversation at the pub, he had been able to identify the type of person she was. When he had asked her : 'What does your house look like then?' and 'Describe the most favourite time in your life, ever?', he had watched her eyes, and had noticed that for a moment before answering each question her eyes moved upwards and to her left. From his training he knew that this showed him that she was a very Visual person, and throughout the rest of the evening, he established a strong rapport with her by slipping in words and phrases like, “appears to me”, “paint a picture” “sight for sore eyes”, “image”, “glance”, or “see” into their conversation. Her subconscious immediately related to him and his use of visually descriptive words.

  During dinner he had “matched” her, by following and mimicking her body movements, her gestures, her eye movements. When she'd leant forward across the table, he had leant towards her. When she had taken a drink from her glass, he had drunk from his. When she laughed, he laughed too. And each time she laughed he leant forward across the table and touched her lightly on the arm or hand, thereby “anchoring” her good mood and happiness to his touch. By repeatedly doing this, rather like “Pavlov’s Dogs” he would later be able to just lightly touch her on the hand or body, and she would respond, her subconscious recalling the sensation of feeling good whenever he had touched her earlier and instructing her body to feel good again in response to his touch now.

  He had also been very careful to follow her breathing pattern, and had been breathing at the same rate as hers. Over a coffee at the end of the meal, he had slipped a number of semi-hypnotic suggestions into the conversation.

  “You like me, are very interested in our work” with the emphasis and intonation on ‘YOU LIKE ME’, and “...when you are REALLY EXCITED after work, how do you SLEEP. WITH ME its always the same…I can’t sleep for ages...I’M TOO AROUSED...and need to read a book…” Mike knew it was all about running several unrelated words together in a conversation, casually, with special intonation on the key words. Over the years he had become expert at it and it came naturally now. When he had first learned the techniques he had been completely amazed at the results and that it actually worked.

  The key to the whole thing was to get the other person into the correct mental state before trying the word sequences on her. Louisa was in exactly the right mood now, and as he worked through several auto-suggestive hypnotic suggestions, he could see them taking effect as her face and neck flushed and her breathing changed. She wanted him now, and he wasn’t about to say no!

  “So…I don’t know how to thank you for such a nice meal...” Louisa said as the waiter took away Mike’s credit card to pay the bill.

  “No problem…it was my pleasure!” he said back, smiling, oozing calculated charm out of every pore.

  “...I was wondering...instead of me calling a taxi, would you like to walk me home? I’m not too far from here, and then if you wanted you could come in, and have a night-cap before you left…if you want.”

  “Was that, 'if I want to leave?' or 'if I want to walk you home?' Mike replied playfully.

  “Shall we just see what happens...?”

  .

  Chapter Sixteen

  Louisa knew that she'd drunk quite a lot over dinner, but she couldn’t believe how strongly she was attracted to this man. She felt so comfortable with him, as if they were lovers who had known each other for a long time. His animal magnetism was incredible. Over dinner the longing for him had grown more intense, and at one point she'd had to go to the ladies bathroom, just so that she could take a break from him. She had never experienced anything like this before. She had never, ever, slept with a man on their first date, but tonight she was going to do her best to change that. She wanted him, and she was already ready for him.

  .

  On the walk back to her house, she couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and hold his hand. He gave it to her eagerly, and she'd responded by hanging on to his upper arm with the other hand and cuddling up into his side as they walked. She couldn’t believe how forward she was being, but didn’t feel in the slightest bit bad about her brazen behaviour.

  When they reached her door, she opened it with her key, and before any moment of embarrassment could arise between them, she turned to him and kissed him passionately on the lips.

  “…that’s just to entice you into my lair, and if you keep being as charming and seductive as you have been all evening, who knows what will happen?”

  .

  Mike knew exactly what to do from here on in. He knew now that she was responding to his hypnotic suggestions, and he was confident that once they had made love and she was completely relaxed, it would be easy for him to hypnotise her and find the answers to the questions he wanted.

  .

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  .

  Her breasts were beautiful. Soft and heavy but incredibly well formed. They kissed passionately, and in spite of his professional training, Mike was beginning to lose control of his emotions. He was really attracted to Louisa, and it took a lot of conscious effort to regain control of himself.

  He had been taught many skills and he knew how to make a woman happy. How to send her to the heights of pleasure, how to make a woman’s orgasm more intense than she herself would have believed possible, and how to exhaust her senses so that as her orgasm rushed through her she fell headlong into the deepest achievable state of relaxation.

  And then, as the woman would lie satiated on the bed, Mike would prop himself up on an elbow and start to stroke her cheek and speak gently to her, all the time watching her breathing. This was the optimal time to take her into 'trance'. By simply matching her breathing pattern and by phrasing his sentences and varying his voice tones to the rise and fall of her chest, and by using a selection of words chosen to have maximum impact on a Visual or an Auditory type person, depending how he classified them, Mike could on average take a woman into trance within five minutes. He knew a hundred different hypnotic induction patterns, and he was a master at each of them.

  Once induced into a state of trance, from there it was another simple step to take her down further to an even deeper state of relaxation, to a level where he could talk to her subconscious mind and plant commands or extract information without the conscious mind ever being aware that it had happened.

  Within ten minutes Mike could make any woman his, for good. From that point on he could control her, and have her anytime he wanted.

  Hypnosis had many applications for good, and in the hands of a trustworthy person it could be used to really help people. But Mike was not good. He was bad and he knew it. He used his well-learned skills to devastating effect, without morals or any scruples.

  As a result he was never short of female company, sex, and valuable information. In the past few years he had slept with over a hundred woman, including students, doctors, lawyers, nurses, politicians, even the proverbial rocket scientists. Married or single, it made no difference. He had had them all.

  .

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  .

  Louisa was no different. If anythin
g, she went under faster than normal, probably due to the natural physical attraction and the subconscious trust she had already placed in Mike.

  Her orgasm had been intense, and Mike had enjoyed that part of the process enormously. She lay on the bed beside him, her cheeks flushed and her eyelids flickering violently, and as Mike talked to her deliberately confusing her conscious thought patterns, so that he could insert his own suggestions into her mind, a classic induction routine, she slipped easily into a deep trance from which she would be powerless to resist any of his questioning.

  The fun part over, Mike became the true professional agent. He had a job to do.

  “Louisa, you are now in a place of deep, deep relaxation. As you listen to the sound of the rain on the window outside, and as you feel the warmth of your body, content and happy from the love making you just enjoyed, and as you listen to the sound of my voice, you will let your conscious mind start to talk backwards from 2000 to 1. And as your conscious mind begins to count backwards…let me talk to your subconscious mind alone, so that when you later wake up, your conscious mind will have no recollection of the questions I will ask you and the answers you will give me. Now start to count backwards, 2000, 1999, 1998…yes, that’s right…that’s good...now, when your sub-conscious mind is ready to talk to me privately, then just nod....” Mike spoke softly but authoritatively, casting his inflexion downwards at the end of each sentence in the mode of commanding someone gently to do something. He waited patiently for Louisa to nod, her eyelids continuing to flicker as she slipped deeper into trance. Then suddenly her eyes stopped moving and she nodded.

  “That’s good Louisa. You are a very, very clever and attractive girl. You feel really good now...very happy...you feel just great. And you really like me and trust me…you know you can trust me...you know you can tell me anything you want...yes, that’s right...I’m a friend...a good friend…someone you can trust…are you my friend Louisa?”

  There was a moment of silence before Louisa replied quietly but positively. “Yes…Mike, I am your friend. And you are mine. I feel I can tell you anything...”

  “That’s good...that’s right...now as you listen to the sound of my voice, you will continue to feel fantastic and so happy...and because you trust me so much, you will realise that you want to, yes… you really want to tell me all the details about the object you asked me to record holographically. Don’t you Louisa...”

  Louisa nodded.

  “And now when I touch your hand you will feel very happy and relaxed and I want you to tell me about the real project that you are working on and why the ring of thorns in the hologram I was asked to help make is so important....”

  This was the moment of truth. Would she tell him? Was she really under far enough, and responding to his every command? He hoped so. Leaning forward he tapped her lightly on the back of her left hand. Immediately Louisa smiled, and still lying on the bed with her eyes tightly closed, she began to speak slowly.

  “Oh Mike, I feel so great…I’m just wonderful! Are you ok? Listen, is it ok if I tell you something...I feel as if I’ve known you for ages, and oh…I feel bad, because last week I lied to you. I don’t know why, but I did...”

  “How did you lie to me Louisa?” Mike lowered his tone deeper and spoke very clearly.

  “Remember you asked me about the ring of thorns that you holographed for me...you asked me where it came from...”

  “Yes, Louisa, I remember asking you.”

  “Well, you see, I didn’t want to, but I had to lie to you. To hide from you the truth behind the project…”

  “Which is Louisa……?”

  “…because the truth is that it never belonged to a German prince as we have told the world. Actually, it belongs to Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. It’s not a relic belonging to a monk from the turn of the first millennium, it’s really...” And she paused, and Mike could see that her closed eyelids had begun to flicker again...

  “Come on Louisa…that’s fine...don’t worry...I’ll forgive you, but only if you tell me what it really is, and why you wanted a hologram of it so badly...!” He encouraged her and coaxed her along.

  “Good…I feel so bad for lying to you. It’s really the “Crown of Thorns”, the ring of thorn branches that the Roman soldiers forced onto Christ’s head when he was crucified...” Her voice began to tail off…

  Mike’s heart skipped a beat. This was incredible, but he knew there was still more to tell.

  “That’s right Louisa. It’s the Crown of Thorns... That’s true... But why did you want me to capture it holographically?”

  “…because we are looking for traces of blood, CHRIST’s blood, on the thorns, so that we can take a DNA sample and create a clone of Jesus Christ!”

  Mike sat bolt upright on the bed beside her. It all made sense now. That’s exactly why Dr Wainright’s lab was leading this research. He was the world’s leading expert in human cloning…and now he was going to clone Jesus Christ Himself!

  Mike had just struck gold. He could feel a trip to London coming on.

  .

  Chapter Seventeen

  The American Embassy

  London, England

  .

  “Lemon, or milk?”

  The Ambassador enquired politely as he played ‘mother’ and poured Mike a cup of tea. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and inwardly Mike smiled, laughing at the ridiculous levels some diplomats went to to be ‘diplomatic’. In the four years he’d spent in the London office Ambassador Johnson had become more English than most English people. He never missed morning elevenses, and always drank his Darjeeling from the finest China.

  The Ambassador was about fifty years old. He had developed expensive tastes since he had arrived in England five years before. He only wore the best suits from Savile Row, today's blue and white pin-stripe being complemented perfectly by the folded white handkerchief in the front chest pocket. Completely bald, the Ambassador's pate shone like a polished bowling ball in the bright lights of his office.

  Although he claimed to be a direct descendant of the twentieth century president Lyndon B. Johnson, Mike knew that in reality he came from New Jersey and a very different and more humble background. His sources were seldom wrong. Nevertheless, he was the Ambassador of America in England, and that made him the most senior ranking American in the country.

  As a ranking Colonel in the CIA, the Ambassador was Mike’s senior field agent, and Mike reported directly and only to him.

  “What brings you here again Mike...it’s been five months since we last met hasn’t it?” the Ambassador launched a very subtle dig at Mikes recent track record, having failed in the past year to get his teeth into anything really interesting. The last time he had met him was when Mike had copied some research papers on the latest plasma engine the physicists at Oxford had been developing. True, that information had been worth a lot to the CIA, and to American industry in general, but for the budget he made available to Mike, he expected a little more.

  Mike shifted uneasily in his chair. In the quiet embassy overlooking Grosvenor Square in the heart of London, sitting in the oak panelled and brown walnut-furnitured antique office with a history that went back hundreds of years, what he had to tell the Colonel seemed so unreal. Maybe unbelievable. Yet it was imperative that the Ambassador believed in what he was just about to say.

  “Are you a religious man, Ambassador Johnson?” Field agents never addressed each other by their rank, no matter where they were. In the field, that would be tantamount to stupidity.

  “Yes, well, I think it would be fair to say I was. Although my wife may disagree at times. Why?”

  “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” Mike enquired.

  “Yes, I do as a matter of fact. This is all rather personal. Where is this leading to young man?” the Ambassador stirred his tea with an antique silver teaspoon.

  “Would you like to meet Him?”

  “Who? You mean ‘Him?’…as in Christ?…” The Colonel pushe
d back in his chair and looked at Mike directly. “Have you taken leave of your senses, boy. Explain what you mean. Give me a clear, succinct report. Now.”

  “I’m sorry Ambassador, it’s just that what I have to say may sound rather far-fetched, but I believe it to be true. It has come to my attention that a group in Oxford, financed by the Institute for Genetic Evolution for the Greater Good of Mankind, and led by a Professor Mathew Wainright, is planning to take genetic samples of the blood of Jesus Christ from a religious artefact known as the Crown of Thorns. Are you familiar Ambassador, with what the Crown of Thorns is meant to be?”

  “Yes, I am. Continue. Please.”

  “From this material their plan is to create a clone of Jesus Christ. Christians believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, even maybe part of God himself, and call him their Messiah. At the very least, the effect of cloning Jesus Christ is to try bringing the Messiah back to a world that has predicted and awaited his return for two thousand years. In summary, if the Oxford team succeed, we could be looking at the start of the Second Coming of Christ, the return of the Messiah…”

  “Enough! You are a CIA agent, not a religious zealot. Stick to the facts, not conjectures.” The Ambassador shook his head, putting his cup of tea down gently into his china saucer and raising himself from his chair and crossing to the window, his hands behind his back. He peered through the curtains into the park in the middle of the Square, waiting for Mike to continue.

  “I have a contact within the team proposing to do this. They genuinely believe that they have the capability to do it. There are only two issues to hinder them. Firstly, although they believe they have the genuine Crown of Thorns, they have not yet established if there are any traces of blood on the thorns of the Crown. Secondly, if they do find some blood, they cannot know for certain whether or not it will belong to Jesus Christ...”