Christ Clone (25 page)

Daniel flashed the article up on the screen and they read it together.
It was very brief with a small picture of Travis standing outside the church shaking hands with the priest. Certainly not the most conclusive piece of evidence, but they both felt it was another sign they were on the right track.

'I still struggle to see what the connection is. Let's just say he's behind all of this — why would a man like Travis get up one morning and decide to clone Jesus? And, as if that wasn't bad enough, get the whole world to participate in his game.' Bewildered, Malone paced the room.

'Maybe he thinks he's more powerful than God, and doing this
— in some way — proves it. Then again, he could just be a spoiled rich bastard with nothing better to do,' Daniel added.

The trail had led them to Travis, but Travis as a suspect didn't make sense to Malone. They looked silently at the whiteboard.

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

Malone added 'church roof' and 'possibly religious' as footnotes to
Travis' name and drew a line connecting the beige vans to his daughter's name. Then, as he erased clean from under Dale Galbraith's name, he spoke his thoughts aloud. 'What if Travicom isn't clean? We made that mistake with Galbraith. If Travis is as involved in this as we think, then he's got to be doing all of this somewhere. Why not at his own facility?'

Daniel mulled it over for a couple of seconds, and then pulled his chair up to the computer. 'Let's find out.'

He opened Google and typed in Travicom Research. The search came up with eleven thousand pages associated with Travicom. At first glance, most of them seemed based on stock reports and communications
— nothing untoward. He added Simon Travis. This narrowed the search down to just over four thousand pages but, once again, nothing too exciting. Then, with Malone's help, he started to punch in a few search strings based on clones and genes, and the fresh search uncovered just twenty-three hits. Immediately, their search stopped.
They stared at the screen. The blue subject-heading read: 'Travicom's
Travis ventures into the future.'

In the few lines of black print underneath was a brief passage taken from a news article:

Outspoken entrepreneur, Simon Travis, claims that in order to fulfil his desire to see teleportation become a reality, human cloning will need to be legalized.

There was no need to go through to the associated page. The link was right there on the screen — and they both knew it. The passage went into brief details about Travicom's research into teleportation and digital cloning. But it was the word cloning that grabbed their attention; the context was irrelevant. Travicom, Simon Travis, and cloning — on the same page — was all the information they needed.

'What's he planning on doing? Teleporting Jesus around the world?'
Malone was joking, but he was also bewildered.

Daniel checked one more thing before going through to the link.
'Just as I thought,' he said with satisfaction, tapping the screen as he spoke. 'This article was written over six years ago!'

Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.

They'd arranged to meet at Starbucks on Saturday around eleven.
Malone was to be there already, and their meeting was to look as if it were completely by chance. After the beating, Malone had become cautious. He took a long and confusing route to the café and he'd suggested to Taylor she should do the same.

She arrived looking a little flustered, ordered her coffee, and they played out an accidental meeting between two acquaintances as she sat down with Malone.

'I walked about three blocks out of my way before finally ending up here; you've got me really spooked. I'm scared of my own boss.'
Her head was bowed, and even though she was whispering, Malone knew she was angry.

'It's not my fault you work for a goddam psychopath.' Malone bent his head too. The whispering and their close proximity must have made them look like an adulterous couple. The café's other patrons were giving them sideways glances, and sensing this they sat back in their chairs and fell silent.

Taylor's coffee order was called, and when she returned they smiled at each other.

'Shall we start this again?' Malone offered.

'Hello, Mr Malone, how nice to see you again. How is your day going?' her tone was posh with a hint of mischief. They laughed and
Taylor took a seat. 'I'm sorry for before, I was just a bit nervous.'

'I understand, Travis makes me nervous too,' Malone replied as he took a gulp of his drink.

'What? Travis, yes Travis . . .' she said quickly, sipping at her coffee.

Malone, missing her embarrassment, continued. 'So, how did you end up working for a man like Travis?'

'Surely you haven't asked me here to get my life story.'

'Not really. I just find it fascinating how people get into their careers, plus a little small talk wouldn't go amiss right now.'

'Look, I don't like feeling this way. My nerves are all over the place.
I'd rather get to the bottom of this quickly, so if you don't mind . . .'

This time Malone took his cue. 'Thanks for the tip-off yesterday.
I followed Travis to your company's research facility in the Sorrento
Valley; it was very enlightening. Added to that, I've come up with some more information over the past twenty-four hours that makes me almost certain Travis is the one I'm looking for.'

Malone went on to tell Taylor about what he'd uncovered so far; he wound up saying, ' . . . so that's what makes me certain it's him.'

Taylor was speechless.

'What's the matter?' Malone asked.

'I was just digesting all you've said. It all sounds — incredible.'
Deep frown lines had appeared on her forehead.

'Maybe just a bit too incredible,' Malone muttered.

'It sort of fits in with what I've found out by doing a bit of snooping around.'

Malone leaned forward in his seat again.

'Simon has been different for a while now. He's always been a bit unpredictable, but recently he's been short and snappy; actually, he's been downright rude. There have been several visits from Dale
Galbraith, and they've all seemed clandestine. Simon does love to spend time at the research facility, but again, he's been out there an awful lot recently. He's working on something big, and I'm pretty sure the board isn't privy to it either.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Well, normally all expenditure goes through to the accounts department on the sixteenth floor, but at the moment there's a special project fund that no one apart from Simon and Dr Androna can access.'

'Dr Androna?'

'He's the senior scientific manager at the research plant.'

There was a lot of information flashing through Malone's head, but he didn't want her to stop.

'Simon is always pretty intense when he's got something hot on the go, but the last time he was like this was years ago.'

'Six years ago?' Malone ventured.

Taylor thought about it. 'You know, you're probably right.' Once again she fell silent as she made the connections herself.

They both finished their coffees, alone with their thoughts.

Taylor looked puzzled again.

'What is it?' Malone asked.

'So, how did you come to have a wife and daughter? I always thought priests took a vow of celibacy. Did you meet your wife after you left the priesthood, or whatever you call it?'

Malone pondered the question for a while. He hadn't told anyone his life story for such a long time. 'It goes back quite a long way. Are you sure you want to hear it?'

'Of course; I love a good story.' Taylor looked genuinely interested.

Malone took a deep breath, and began. 'I was born in a small town
Northern Ireland. My English parents were — and I guess they still are — devout Protestants. Naturally enough, I grew up a Protestant myself. I was a bit of a lad in my youth, and got into mischief, nothing too bad, but enough for my parents to home-school me. A major part of my study involved the Bible and all its teachings. They believed that if I stuck with the word of the Lord, I would become a better man.'
Malone dwelled on this for a few moments. 'We went to church at least twice a week and — don't laugh — I joined the choir.'

Taylor began to smile.

'My voice was a lot better then, believe me.' He was smiling with her. 'Maybe it was because of the constant diet of religion, or the poor employment prospects. Or it might have been because it was my parents' wish, or it could even have been my own free will. Whatever the reason for it, I became a protestant clergyman. Looking back on it now, I feel that I just evolved into one. Don't get me wrong, my beliefs were sincere. I loved the Bible and all its teachings. It's just that I think things would have been different if I'd grown up in a different place.'

Malone paused and took a sip of coffee. 'Anyway, the years passed, and I settled into my life. I spent my time either at church, or thinking about it. You'd be surprised how much of your day can be taken up being godly.' He smiled at his own attempt at humour.

'One morning in autumn I was out walking around my parish.
The sun was shining I remember, but the air was brisk. I bumped into a couple of loud American girls. They came up to me and asked if
I'd have my picture taken with them. One of the girls had the most amazing smile. I took a good look at her, and I was literally struck speechless. Her hair was a mousy brown and her cheeks were red from the cold. But it was that smile. I was instantly captivated. It made me feel like I'd woken up from the most refreshing sleep I'd ever had.
Anyway, I was completely tongue-tied. I felt so stupid — at least twice a week, I stood up effortlessly in front of my parishioners and delivered a sermon, but at that moment I couldn't string two words together. In fact I couldn't even say yes, so I just nodded. The other girl started to tease me, asking if the cat had got my tongue. But the girl who'd taken my breath away just held out her hand and said, 'Hi, I'm Barbara.'

Malone stopped and looked at Taylor. 'I'm sorry, am I going on too much?' He became aware that he might be boring her.

'No, no, no. Not at all, please go on. What happened next?'

'Well, it turned out they were travelling through Ireland in search of their heritage, or roots as they called it. We all ended up going for dinner, and Barbara and I couldn't take our eyes off each other. The girls stayed on for a few more days before heading south to Cork.
Barbara and I exchanged numbers, and she promised to keep in touch.
A few days later she called me, saying she couldn't stop thinking about me, and she was back in town having left her friend in Cork. From that moment on, we were inseparable.'

Taylor looked as though tears were welling up.

'That's when all the trouble really began.'

'What do you mean?' Taylor asked, 'It all sounds perfect.'

'Barbara was a Catholic and I was a Protestant; where I come from they don't mix. My family treated her appallingly. But their attitude only added fuel to my love, and soon we were talking marriage.'

Taylor seemed to understand. She nodded and murmured, 'Uh huh.'

'To cut a long story short, we eloped. We came to America and got married. It was by far the most impulsive thing I'd ever done.'

Taylor rubbed her hands with glee at the way the story was developing. 'What did your family say? What did they do? How were
Barbara's family about all of this?'

Malone recoiled a little.

'Sorry, it just sounds so romantic; please continue.' She sat on her hands in an attempt to calm herself.

'It was a complete mess. Her parents were as Catholic as mine were
Protestant. They were appalled that their only daughter had married a proddy and refused to talk to either of us. When I called my parents to tell them we were married, they reacted as if I was a rabid dog. That was the last time I spoke to them. As an olive branch gesture, I sent them pictures of Mary when she was born, complete with our contact details, but they just sent my letter back with "sender unknown" on the envelope.'

Taylor had stopped fidgeting. 'That's dreadful; they didn't even want to know their own granddaughter?'

Malone pursed his lips and shook his head before continuing.
'Barbara's parents were a different story. Once they got over the initial shock, they sort of accepted me into the family. I remember sitting around their dinner table one night with both her parents grilling me about how I intended to take care of their daughter, now that I was in a new country. What was I good at? Did I expect to sponge off them — or worse, off Barbara? Ironically, a few years later they gifted
Barbara and me with our home.'

'Sounds amazing,' Taylor said.

'Actually, their interest and support was what I needed. From the start her parents were being protective, and they helped me decide what to do next.'

'Which was?'

'I chose to become a Catholic priest.'

Taylor looked confused. 'I think that was my original question.
How can a priest be married and have a daughter?'

Malone took a deep breath. 'The difference between Catholics and
Protestants is their interpretation of the guidelines. They both believe in the same God, but the Protestants are basically guided by the
Bible, whereas Catholics are guided by the church's interpretation of it. Essentially, the Bible and its writings are fixed; it's there in black and white, so to speak. But the Catholics, although they accept that the Bible is the word of God, have the Pope who can adapt or amend the scriptures to suit a changing congregation.'

Taylor looked lost.

'In a Catholic church the crucifixion of Jesus is almost always the focal point; as long as you believe in him, all else is negotiable.
In a Protestant church the pulpit, and therefore the preacher, is the centre of attention. You believe what you're told, and what you're told comes directly from the Bible.'

Taylor seemed to get it.

'But what about the celibacy?'

'That's the funny thing. Originally, being married wasn't an issue when it came to being a priest — or even the Pope. Jesus chose married men as his apostles; he may even have been married himself. Peter, the leader of the disciples, was married, and for the first twelve centuries of the faith, there were thirty-nine Popes who were married. Three of them even produced sons who became Popes.'

'So what happened?'

'Pope Gregory VII happened. He decreed that anyone seeking ordination must first pledge celibacy. He said that the church cannot escape from the clutches of the laity unless the priests first escape the clutches of the wives.' Malone smiled. 'Seems women have been a bad influence since the Garden of Eden.'

A sly smirk appeared on Taylor's face.

'This brings me back to the dinner table with Barbara and her parents. There I am, a Protestant minister married to their Catholic daughter. My family had disowned me, and all I had really known in the way of work was teaching the word of God. As far as I knew, married men couldn't be Catholic priests, and there was no way on earth that Barbara's family would give their blessings to Barbara becoming a Protestant. I was pretty much screwed.'

Seeing Taylor was hooked, Malone was dragging the story out.

'So, what did you do?'

Taylor's hands had reappeared, and she shook them impatiently, itching to get the rest of the story out of Malone.

'Actually, it was Barbara's father who came up with the answer. In
June 1980, due to a shortage of Catholic priests, Pope John Paul II made special pastoral provisions for married Protestant ministers who converted to Catholicism to be ordained to the Catholic priesthood, bringing with them their wives, and any children. This is something that, even today, not many Catholics are aware of. So I converted, and was ordained. Not long after that, Mary was born.'

'Wow,' Taylor said. 'That is such a great story. You gave up so much. Sounds like Barbara is someone very special. I'd love to meet her some time.'

Malone closed his eyes.

'What?' Taylor asked.

'Barbara was killed not long after Mary was taken.'

Not knowing what to say other than 'I'm sorry', Taylor shrank back into her seat and they were both silent.

Malone's face began to redden as he realized just how much he had offloaded onto a virtual stranger.

'I've really dumped an enormous story on you today; I hope I haven't overstepped the mark. It's just been so easy to talk to you, and I wanted you to have as much information as possible because you are really in a position to be able to help me find my daughter. I'm sorry if I sounded desperate.'

Taylor finished her coffee and stood up to leave. 'I am sorry about your wife . . .' she began.

'It was a long time ago.'

'I'll try to find out what I can about Simon's special project; you have me intrigued. If it has anything to do with your daughter, I'll call you. I promise.'

They shook hands and Malone gave her his home phone number.
As he watched her leave, Malone hoped she would turn and look back. She didn't.