Christ Clone (31 page)

Taylor was becoming increasingly uneasy around her boss. He'd become even more secretive since the dinner on the boat, his behaviour more baffling than ever. He breezed in and out of the office, late for his own appointments, and despite his self-proclaimed love for his family of employees he seemed remarkably unfazed by the disappearance of
Needham from Accounts.

Added to this was the strange meeting she had had with Michael
Malone about Simon and
another
missing Mary. The truth was, she found Malone interesting, more interesting than she'd found anyone for a long time, but she had begun to wonder if he was slightly unhinged.
She wanted to believe him and his theories, but there was no proof, and it was all just circumstantial. He'd asked her to meet with him again, but she'd repeated what she told him when they met — she had his number and would think about it. It was all very confusing.

Douglas Wainright called again, asking for Travis. Taylor told him he wasn't in. He could try him on his cell, or she'd be happy to take a message. Wainright responded with a few expletives and a comment about Travis' lack of professionalism, and then hung up.

Taylor looked at Wainright's name on her notepad; the head of
Stemtex and sworn enemy of Simon and Travicom, this was the eighth time he'd called in the past two days. It didn't seem right. Coupled with the photos of Needham and Wainright together — and his subsequent disappearance — a triangle of suspicion had formed in Taylor's head. Although she was still nervous after last time, she knew she had to go through Simon's office again.

***

The drugs had worn off and the interviewing had started. Travis was enjoying this part because it was already more of a conversation with a friend than an interrogation. Weeks ago, Probandi, Dr Androna, and Travis had had an open and frank discussion about what was going on. All the drugging and dual interrogation tactics had become tiresome for Travis, so he'd decided to change his approach and come clean. Since then, Probandi's visions of the past had flowed more easily.
In addition to this, Dr Androna said that since the DNA used to clone him had come directly from source, not only had it sped up his physical growth but had also intensified the clone's recall and simplified the PLR process.

The life story as told by Probandi was a tale of great wealth and manipulation — which Travis could readily relate to — but best of all were all the little details. Travis wanted to know all about life in the past; for him it was like time travel.

As Travis began to bring him up to speed with what had happened in the intervening two thousand years, Probandi also realized he had a lot to gain, especially the sweetener Travis was offering to clinch the deal.

Probandi recounted as much of his life's story as the recall techniques had revealed to him, and — at Travis' request — in plenty of detail.

'I was one of the high priests at the temple. We had a system in place that brought us great wealth. Pilgrims travelled from miles around to be forgiven for their sins, and they paid for the privilege. To gain forgiveness they had to offer only the purest of sacrifices; we, as the priesthood, had just such offerings available — pure white doves. The pilgrims needed first to exchange their impure money for our pure currency and only then could they purchase the offerings we sold. Money poured in. Only those whose sins were already upon them could not be saved or forgiven.'

'What does that mean?' Travis interrupted.

'The ones with illnesses or those who were possessed. I think you'd call it madness. These subjects were banned from the temple, never to be saved. My house was adorned with all the finest treasures, and even had its own cleansing pools. Whenever I had guests, wine flowed continuously, and my numerous maids served imported gourmet delights. The huge temple bridge offered a link between our residence and the temple; only the high priesthood crossed by this route, all others entered the temple below us.'

Travis was enthralled. 'So what happened?'

'It started out as just a sort of laziness; rising later and later in the morning. I thought at first it was the wine or age creeping up on me, but even during the day I felt sluggish and lethargic. This affected my appetite; at first I didn't like the foods I usually craved, then I just stopped wanting food at all. My sleep was an awful affair, waking up feverish with soaking wet sheets, but worse still were my coughs. They went from a basic throaty niggle, to a deep lung-piercing phlegmy hack. That was the hardest part to conceal.'

Travis looked perplexed.

'If the high priest had discovered that my sins had caught up with me, then I too would be banished from the temple, and I would lose all the gratuities bestowed on me.'

Travis understood.

'I heard a rumour about a healer, a man who performed great feats of magic. He cleansed people of their sins in the pools outside the temple walls. So at night I started to sneak out of the temple grounds to watch these so-called baptisms. They were an astonishing sight.
People came in droves just to be touched by this man. He even claimed to forgive them in God's name. His Father's name, he said. This was in conflict with what we ourselves did; only the priests could forgive sins!

'I saw him several times as I gathered the courage to be cleansed myself. And when I heard rumours of imminent treachery, a plot against the healer, I slipped outside the temple to meet him. But he was nowhere to be found. I searched frantically, only to find he had been taken away by Pilate's guards. The next time I saw Jesus was at his crucifixion.'

Travis wanted to ask questions, but Probandi continued his account.
'Not long after that, I began to cough up blood, and so my sins were discovered. I was banished from the temple, but I remained nearby, staying with whatever kind strangers would have me, but mostly just sleeping on the street.

Travis jumped in; his eagerness had got the better of him. 'Did you get a good look at him?'

'Who?'

'Did you get a good look at Jesus?' This was a critical moment for
Travis. His challenge and, more important, his own sanity hinged on this one answer.

Probandi thought for a moment. His memory of the crucifixion was more vivid than anything else he recalled. 'I could never forget him,' he said, his voice a whisper.

Probandi's words brought a flood of emotion to Travis; he excused himself and left the room. Wanting privacy, he made his way to the bathroom. He filled the basin with water and bent his head to meet his cupped hands. As the cold water hit him, his feelings began to fade.
His hands slid down his face and he looked at himself in the mirror.
He saw a grin of triumphant relief.

It was time to sell the next step. There were three clones in existence; they could all be Jesus, or none of them. The burden of proof rested on Probandi.

Dr Androna had diagnosed Probandi with tuberculosis. They'd isolated him weeks ago and a dose of isoniazid was administered daily.
The course usually took from nine to twelve months, but with the accelerated cell growth no one knew how long the treatment would take. Now, when Travis looked at Probandi he seemed tired; dark folds rimmed his eyes and his shoulders were hunched.

'I have something to show you, my friend,' Travis announced. 'It's something no one has ever had the opportunity to see before.'

Probandi looked puzzled.

'Just follow me.' Travis went to the door and Probandi followed obediently. They moved along corridors, passing offices and the main laboratory.

'Where are we going?' Probandi asked. Travis didn't answer; instead, he waved his hand to indicate that they should quicken their pace. After weaving rapidly through the building they came to a door marked Private — authorized personnel only. Only two people were authorized to enter this room, Travis himself and the doctor. He waved the security tag in front of the sensor and the lock snapped open.

Travis turned to Probandi. 'Now, what you're about to see may shock you at first, but I'm sure you're up to it.' He swung the door open and they walked into a small room. It was pitch black, and a heavy, damp, musty smell hung in the air. Travis flicked on the lights and boldly announced, 'Probandi, I have great pleasure in introducing you to yourself.'

The coffin on top of an operating table was immersed in light. The spotlights made it look like a museum exhibit.

Probandi looked at Travis and back at the coffin. He had no idea what was going on, but as he moved closer to the box, his legs trembled.
Travis put his arm around the clone's shoulders to steady him as they approached the open coffin and looked inside.

Probandi was face to face with himself. The empty eye sockets looked up at him. He just shook his head in disbelief. 'Is that . . .
is that me?' he asked, but he knew the answer.

'Sure is. What does it feel like? Are you having an out-of-body experience?' Travis asked. He couldn't stop himself being facetious, but he did want to know what was going through the clone's mind.

'I think I need to sit down before I fall down.'

Travis pulled up a chair for Probandi. He wanted to keep the clone close to the mummified corpse.

'Where did you find it . . . um, me?'

'Let's just say we managed to liberate you from a tomb in a UK museum. We felt you'd been asleep for far too long already.'

Probandi looked puzzled.

'You were found by an archaeologist, a Dr Gibson; he was going through tombs in the Hinnom Valley when he stumbled upon you.'

Travis studied Probandi, looking for any signs of recognition; with nothing apparent, he continued. 'Your tomb was situated in the Field of Blood, beside Mount Zion. Judas was obviously keen on the spot because he ended up buying the place.'

A flash of something crossed Probandi's face.

'What?' Travis asked excitedly.

'It's just . . . Judas, I remember him. I think — no, I'm sure — I've met him.'

'You've met Judas?'

'Please, just give me a moment.' Probandi's head sank to his chest and he began to struggle with his breathing.

'Are you okay?' Travis asked.

Probandi lifted his head and raised his finger to Travis' mouth in order to quieten him. He then rose slowly and moved to the coffin. He stared into his own face again. After a short time, he reached in and held his own skull in his hands. The cold remains of flesh felt rough to his touch and he began to feel a reconnection, as though he'd been reunited with a missing piece of himself. He began to speak, slowly and deliberately. 'I've actually met Judas on several occasions.' His mind began to trawl the dark recesses of his past.

Travis remained silent.

'He was one of the healer's followers, and often acted as a gatekeeper.
He controlled access to the healer. I'd tried a few times to get past him, using my position, and tempting him with money, but he always refused. In fact he intrigued me because he rejected my money so absolutely. Anyway, time passed and I remember sitting in the high priest's temple; there were a few of us — the priests, I mean — discussing this and that, when Judas walked in through the great entrance.
We all knew who he was; as we knew all of the outlaws' faces. We had followed them enough ourselves to have their images imprinted on our minds. He strode up to us and asked to see the high priest. There was something in his eyes, a faraway look, and the beginning of tears
I think. We discussed it later, the others didn't see it, but I did, clear as day. One of the priests asked what business he had with the high priest, and all Judas would say was, "I'm here to see the high priest."
His speech was a monotone, almost a chant; we all thought he was possessed.'

Probandi paused. 'There was a certain amount of irony in one of the great healer's followers being possessed. Anyway, leaving the group, I escorted him to the main altar and asked him to wait there.
I went to speak with the high priest, who was there with his close council. They told me to bring Judas to them and dismissed me at once. Judas wasn't long in there, and he departed in a hurry. He was clutching a small pouch we all assumed was some form of donation.
But we couldn't work out why the high priest would donate funds to the outlaws. We speculated for days on this. They had remained outside the city of their own volition, so it was hardly an attempt to bribe them to leave. A few days later, one of the noblemen came to us very excited. He'd overheard a conversation between two of the council members. They'd been discussing the payment to Judas, and they'd said it wouldn't belong now before he betrayed Jesus. I couldn't believe it. This was a man who'd turned down my own attempts to bribe him, and with a far larger sum than I'd assumed to be in that little pouch. The very next day I had my answer. News that Jesus had been taken by the Romans filled the marketplace and the entire city
— and that Judas had been the one to give his lord up!'

Probandi shook his head sombrely.

'As I said, the next time I saw Jesus was on Skull Hill. But I saw
Judas twice more after that. Once was shortly after the crucifixion. He came running into the temple, demanding to see the high priest again.
We didn't even get a chance to direct him — he just barged his way in. We heard a lot of shouting and yelling; it was hard to make out what they were saying, but we picked out the odd sentence. Something about it not being part of the deal. We also heard the sound of coins being hurled to the floor. More words were exchanged, and Judas left as angry as he'd come in.'

Probandi slumped back into his seat.

'You said you saw Judas one other time? Travis asked.

Probandi nodded slowly.

'It was just before I was thrown out of the high priesthood. I heard that he'd purchased the Field of Blood, and I couldn't understand why, so I decided to go and ask him. Finding him wasn't difficult. He was in a small temple on the city's south side. He was on his knees, deep in prayer. I knelt beside him and asked if we could talk.

'At first he didn't recognize me. His eyes were overflowing with tears. I introduced myself and he shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want with me?" he asked.