Christ Clone (24 page)

Aloysha recounted the dream he'd had at the house in the country. 'My back feels like it's going to break under the weight on my shoulder. I'm staggering up a hill. Hordes of people are either side of me, yelling and screaming abuse. Then I'm thrown to the ground and rolled onto my back. It's weird, I know something terrible is going to happen to me, but I'm powerless either emotionally or physically to do anything about it. I look up and I'm surrounded by guards, not like the ones here though. These men are definitely not there to protect me. They're dressed differently too, in red and gold uniforms. I want to move, to run and hide, but I can't. On one side of me I have guards holding me down, and on the other, my arm feels tied.'

The Fab Four team listened intently to the story as Aloysha drifted off again, into a trance.

'As I raise my head I can see one of the guards coming towards me.
He looks so very sombre. He's carrying some tools in his hand and he kneels down beside the other guards. I strain my neck around to see what he's doing but all I can see is his back. He rests his knee on my arm, and it hurts. I'm trying to pull away, but I can't. I can feel my hand on the other side of the guard being spread open. It seems like many hands are pulling on my fingers. Something sharp pricks the palm of my hand, and I can see the guard raise his hand above his head. As it shoots downwards I can hear the bang of metal on metal, and immediately there's a severe pain coming from my hand. With each bang the pain in my hand gets worse. It's almost unbearable. The bangs turn into dull thuds as the hammer hits my flesh. I try to scream, but someone has their hand over my mouth. I try to turn my hand into a fist hoping that this will stop the pain, but my hand feels shattered, and I can't seem to move my fingers. Then they stop. I feel a moment of relief, but this is short-lived as they turn their attention to my other hand. I try to pull away, I'm pulling and pulling . . .'

As Aloysha snaps out of his trance, his arm is being pulled straight by two of the Fab Four men.

'Aloysha, wake up!' the woman yells.

In his trance, the clone had been biting the centre of his palm, causing it to bleed. They'd been trying to pull his arm away from his mouth as he regained consciousness. The moment he was lucid again his arm went limp, and the two men tumbled over each other, falling to the ground.

'Well I guess that explains the marks,' one of the men said as he picked himself up and looked at the blood on the clone's palm.

All four of them beamed. They were certain the boy from Sunnyland was the real deal.

G
ERMANY

Both men listened intently to Ansgar as he described his dream. He was in a hypnotic state and his words were slow, allowing both Klaus and the doctor time to savour the information. As the memory grew clearer in Ansgar's mind, the scenery expanded.

'I'm standing in a line, staring at the back of a man's dark orange robe. The man's hair is long and messy, and his head is slightly bowed.
As I look over his shoulder I can see a river. The sun reflecting off the water is hurting my eyes. I'm looking around, the line of people in front of and behind me is vast, but they all seem to be waiting patiently, silently. It's like they're each in their own world.

'No, wait. They're all praying quietly. I'm looking at the river now.
I know it, I've been here before. It's the river J . . . It's the River Jordan.
It's deep and wide, and the middle seems to be flowing quickly. We're not waiting to cross the river, I can see it now. At the water's edge is some type of inlet, we're waiting to see the man in the water. I think
I've seen him before. He's a great man, a wise man, a man of faith, a prophet. I shuffle a few steps forward as we all move closer to the water. He's standing waist-deep in the river, and people are wading out to meet him. As people greet the prophet, he talks to them. I'm not close enough to hear what he's saying, but I can see the expression on the people's faces; they're happy. Once he's spoken with them, he holds their head and they fall backwards into the water. I shuffle a few steps forward. I'm closer now, still can't quite make out his face, but I can hear what he's saying to the people. They're all met with the same phrase: "I baptize you in the name of the Father, but there will be one who comes after me who will baptize you in the name of the
Spirit . . ." '

Ansgar broke out of his trance, startled by the close proximity of the two men. As the story had developed, they'd edged closer to the clone. They too had been hypnotized, caught up in the tale.

Malone was already up, drinking coffee in the kitchen when Daniel came out of his room at seven o'clock. 'The state you were in last night, I wasn't expecting to see you before ten,' he said as he poured himself a coffee.

Malone was all fired up. 'I have a plan for today that involves our
Mr Travis. I think you should do some digging around on the Web to see what else you can find out about Travicom, and I'll go pay him a visit.'

Although it was the obvious division of labour, Daniel wished
Malone good luck. 'Don't go getting into any more trouble,' he shouted as Malone went out the door.

Malone got to the Travicom building at eight o'clock. He was hoping Travis' secretary wouldn't be at work yet; he needed his luck to hold out. He stood quietly, hands behind his back, as the elevator raced to the top floor. As the doors opened, he gave a little curse.
She was there. Taylor looked up and her mouth dropped open. She collected herself and asked if she could help him.

'I'm here to see Mr Simon Travis.'

'Do you have an appointment?' she asked, knowing he didn't.

'Could you just tell him that it's to do with a mutual acquaintance
— Dale Galbraith.'

She asked him his name, and if he'd like to take a seat, and then disappeared through the tall brown doors into Travis' office. Malone thought about pushing his way in, but there was something about her that made him wait it out.

The heavy door reopened and Taylor said, 'Mr Malone, he'll see you now.' Her professional manner made Malone feel like he was at the doctor's. As he brushed past her, she asked if he'd like a coffee.

'Black please,' he replied.

The office was the size of Malone's house, and if it weren't for the fact he was there to accuse its occupant of abducting his daughter, he would've been impressed. Travis didn't get up. He offered Malone the seat in front of his desk. Malone felt like a little boy as Travis looked over his desk and down at him.

'What can I do for you, Mr Malone?' he asked in a tone that immediately irritated Malone.

He struggled to swallow his anger, and began. 'I met some friends of yours two nights ago, and they suggested I . . .'

There was a gentle knock at the office door, and Taylor came in with the coffees. As she placed the drinks on the desk, a fleeting look of interest passed between Taylor and Malone.

When Taylor left the room, Malone continued.

'As I was saying, I had a visit from some friends of yours, and they left a lasting impression on me.' Malone pointed to the small cut, and the bruises on his face.

'My friends? And who might they be, Mr Malone?' Travis knew the Twins would never implicate him in anything they did.

'Don't be cute with me.' Malone was losing his temper again. 'The two men tried to warn me off Dale Galbraith. I guess you're going tell me you don't know who Dale Galbraith is either!'

Travis remained stone-faced.

Malone took a moment then started his story from the beginning.

'Dale Galbraith has posted a Web page with a challenge to clone
Jesus, something he obviously knows nothing about. Valuable relics have gone missing, and my daughter Mary has been abducted. After my meeting with Galbraith yesterday, he rushed to meet with you.
You, Mr Travis, are connected to this in some way, and I want to know how.'

Travis looked at his watch and sighed. 'Your story sounds very interesting, Mr Malone, and I'm truly sorry about the loss of your daughter, but I'm struggling to see how I fit into the picture you've described. Yes, you are correct; I did meet with Mr Galbraith yesterday.
But as far as Dale Galbraith's website is concerned, I'm afraid that adolescent prank is part of his history, not mine. He's my lawyer,
Mr Malone, and that's all. I'm sure he has other clients; have you told your tale to them?' Travis' tone was belittling.

'Adolescent prank?' Malone repeated quietly.

'Excuse me?'

'That's how you described Galbraith's web page. Funny thing is, that's exactly how he described it; I think, Mr Travis, you have just been caught in a lie!' Malone believed he had him.

Travis remained composed, once again checking his watch. 'I can see now what Mr Galbraith was talking about; you really are very annoying. I'm telling you this in the hope that you'll kindly leave my office and never return. I'm a very busy man, and quite frankly, although I have every sympathy for your loss, you are becoming tiresome. Mr Galbraith and I met yesterday in La Brea Park, but it sounds as though you already know this; we're interested in using La
Brea Park as a venue to launch a new technological breakthrough. I'm sure you won't mind if I don't tell you what the product is.

'I have a very good working relationship with Mr Galbraith, and
I made a comment about how stressed he looked. He then proceeded to tell me about an annoying madman who's been accusing him of a variety of far-fetched crimes. This madman, whom I now understand to be you Mr Malone, has followed and harassed my lawyer, threatening to call in the police, and to do grievous bodily harm. Let me tell you one thing, Mr Malone — if you attempt to pull
any
of the stunts on me that you've tried on Dale, you'll be very sorry.' Travis' eyes went dark and narrow as he made his threat.

Almost immediately his tone lightened as he looked at his watch once again. 'Now, I believe security will be here any moment, so if you'd rather show yourself out I'd suggest you leave now.'

Malone's anger was almost at boiling point, but he knew better than to hit one of California's wealthiest men. 'You'll be hearing from me soon, you smug bastard.' His tone was flat and angry as he moved towards the door.

Travis just waved him off like an irritating fly.

Throwing open the office door, Malone stormed out. Taylor flicked her intercom off and her blue eyes looked up, startled, like a deer caught in the headlamps. Malone stopped mid-flight and looked at her. He raised his hand and drew a breath to speak, but words failed him. He turned, stabbed at the call button with his finger and a moment later entered the elevator. As the doors closed, he looked back at her and then down at the floor.

Malone's anger was boiling. He was certain he'd caught Travis out but he couldn't intimidate him the same way he could Galbraith. He thought the security bluff was a nice touch; it meant he was smart under pressure too. Travis was in on this, Malone was sure of it, but how was he going to make him talk? Hunger pangs overtook Malone's thoughts, so he decided to have a late breakfast and think about his next move.

Slipping into a booth in the nearest diner, Malone ordered a club sandwich and coffee. The waitress asked him if he was all right, which
Malone found a little odd until he remembered how his face must look.

'I'm fine. Just another night with the Olsen Twins, they really know how to party,' he said with a smirk. The waitress didn't get it.

Malone devoured the sandwich the moment it arrived; he hadn't realized how hungry he was. He ordered some apple pie with cream
and
ice cream, and then settled back in his seat to think about the meeting with Travis, and how smug he'd looked behind his big desk.
'The bigger they are . . .' he muttered.

He considered calling in a favour from Logan, but quickly dismissed this, thinking he'd probably used up all his goodwill.

Outsmarting Travis will be tough, he thought; he's obviously a clever cookie to get where he is. No, I need to be more covert.
Following him would be one way . . . 'The secretary!' he said aloud.
The secretary is the key! He paid for his lunch and went directly to the nearest payphone to call Travis' office.

'Simon Travis' office, this is Taylor.' He was reminded of how professional she sounded.

'Hi Taylor, this is Michael Malone. I came to see Mr Travis earlier today.' He waited for a response.

'Yes, Mr Malone. I'm afraid Mr Travis is busy right now . . .'

He interrupted her. 'Actually it's you I want to talk to. I know you were listening in on our conversation, Taylor.'

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.' Her tone was indignant.

'It's okay, I don't mind. In fact I'm glad you did. You would have heard Mr Travis lying and threatening me.'

The line was silent at her end.

'Taylor, are you there?'

'Yes, I'm here. Exactly what do you want, Mr Malone?'

'You and I both know he's up to something, and I need your help.
For the sake of my daughter, will you help me?'

The phone went silent again. Malone waited.

She hadn't hung up, so Malone knew he'd caught her interest.

***

The phone call Travis had been waiting for came in just after lunch. He called through to Taylor to tell her he'd be leaving the office around two-thirty, and to cancel the rest of the afternoon's appointments.

Travis drove away from the Travicom building with the roof of his
Aston Martin down, joining the early afternoon traffic as he headed for the lab in Sorrento.

Although he was ready and waiting for it, Malone almost missed the car as it slipped out of the underground lot. He tossed his not quite empty coffee cup to the passenger side of the car and sped after his prey. Travis drove quickly and aggressively, and Malone soon lost him. Travis had run the amber light and as the light turned red,
Malone had to stop. Racing forward as soon as the lights went green, he managed to pick up the trail, more by good luck than judgement.
After taking some side streets, they finally joined the southbound
Interstate 5. Keeping his distance, Malone wondered where this trip was going to take him.

Travis loved the sun warming the top of his head, and the purr of the Aston's V12 engine made the drive so much more enjoyable. The fresh air combined with the smell of the car's leather interior made a total change from the office's temperature-controlled and processed air. Checking his mirrors and his radar detector, he let the car stretch its legs a little, blowing the cobwebs from the engine. Little bursts of speed made the engine roar and heightened Travis' driving pleasure.
He turned on the radio and tuned into a station playing stuff from the eighties; Depeche Mode's 'Personal Jesus' came on, and Travis laughed as he sang along.

Within twenty minutes they'd both arrived at Travicom's R & D facility. Malone had been careful not to drive too close to Travis and he felt pretty good about his amateur sleuth pursuit work, although a couple of times during the trip he thought he'd been spotted. Travis had shot away from him at white-knuckle speeds, but had soon slowed to a normal pace. Malone realized Travis' attention was more on the car and its performance than on what was happening around — or behind — him. Travis had stopped at the gate and flashed his ID. The barrier was immediately raised to allow him access. Malone slowed to a stop on the roadside opposite and looked at the big sign announcing the Travicom Research facility.

He studied the building for a while, wondering what sort of things went on inside. Apart from huge satellite dishes in the grounds — and on its roof — it was a plain industrial block. Having taken in all he could, he settled back to wait for Travis to reappear. He reached for a bar of chocolate, more to pass the time than to quell any craving, but something made him stop in his tracks as he unwrapped it.

A beige van drove up to the security gate, the driver exchanged information with the guard, and it exited the premises. The van read
Travicom Inc, but About Plumbing was what flashed into Malone's head. Excitedly, he mentally added this new piece of the puzzle to his list.

Missing Marys
Missing artefacts
Clone challenge
Dale Galbraith
Simon Travis
Travicom Research
Beige vans

All the pieces were starting to come together. He just wasn't sure yet what they all meant. What could Travicom, an internet and communications company, and Simon Travis have to do with cloning — and his daughter?

Two hours later Travis left the facility and drove more sedately back towards Los Angeles. Malone followed him to the Grand Hotel and wondered whom Travis intended to meet there. He watched as
Travis threw his car keys to the valet and exchanged some banter.
Malone resisted the urge to race after Travis; instead, he fluked a park and spoke to the valet. 'Nice car,' he said idly.

The valet admired the car with him. 'A brand new Aston Martin — one of the best cars in the world. Mr Travis has sure got great taste.'

'Oh, is it Simon Travis' car? I didn't know he was here.'

'You know Mr Travis?' The valet's tone acquired a new level of respect.

'Sure, Simon and I go way back. I'd love to catch up with him, is he staying here long?'

The valet looked confused. 'Staying here? He lives here!'

'Oh of course, my mistake. I thought he lived at the Sheraton.'
Malone quickly covered his gaffe. 'I'll drop by and see him later,' he said, walking back to his car. He was glad there were no more mysterious meetings or new suspects for the day.

Back at HQ, Daniel was still hard at work. Malone handed him a bag of Burger King takeout he'd picked up and sat down next to him.
He told him about the meeting with Simon Travis, and then tailing him to Travicom's Research facility.

Daniel nodded as he listened. He stood up to add some notes to the whiteboard. 'What you're telling me about Travis all seems to fit. He's a very clever man who comes from an extremely rich family — who incidentally, are no longer around. He specialized in communications in college, and then formed a company dealing in satellite comms and other hi-tech stuff. Travicom is one of the leaders in the industry, and a Wall Street honey. Brokers jumped on the comms bandwagon, seeing it as a replacement for the dot coms.'

Malone was rubbing his temples.

'What I'm trying to say is, I think Travicom is clean. Since the
Enron issue and the dot com crashes, Wall Street has got more checks than a Scottish kilt.'

Malone smiled. 'Okay. So if Travicom is clean, that leaves Simon
Travis on his own. What's he up to?'

Daniel took the lead again. 'I was in the middle of looking Travis up when you came in. It seems he's a man people seldom mess with and win. He's got a short fuse. He's had a string of lawsuits, from disgruntled former employees mainly, suing him for unfair dismissal.
As far as I can see, they only seem to get some pain and suffering money due to
how
they're fired — apparently in a very public and humiliating manner. Also, there are some misdemeanours due to road rage, and a few women seem a bit upset about the way they've been treated. He has a good side too, though. There are articles about him donating big cheques to various charities; here's one about him paying for a new roof for his local church.'