Christ Clone (32 page)

'His face looked so thin I knew he hadn't eaten. He agreed to come with me to the market to buy some food. We walked in silence and purchased bread and meat, and then found a place to sit in the shade outside the city walls. He started the conversation by telling me it wasn't supposed to be that way. He told me that although he was one of the chosen twelve, he'd always felt an outsider because unlike the others he was not a Galilean.

'He said he wasn't really part of the miracles that had happened, and that he'd been to see Jesus on numerous occasions to ask why this was. "The Lord told me I had a special purpose," he said, and all would be revealed in good time. He was insistent that Jesus had a special purpose for him — He'd told him so time and time again.
One day, Jesus had come to tell him the time was near, and that his purpose was to betray him to the high priests. He told Jesus that he would
never
betray him, and that he would only ever serve the Lord's cause. Jesus told him his betrayal was an integral part of the cause.

He'd thought about what Jesus had said for days . . . about what he'd meant, and what the outcome would be. Judas decided he knew what he was supposed to do; by betraying Jesus to the high priest, and then in turn to the Romans, he would be expediting Jesus' purpose. If Jesus was arrested, then the people would revolt. The peoples' revolution would mean Jesus would be released and raised to his rightful place on the throne. His own mission as a disciple was set.'

Probandi turned to Travis, who was nodding in agreement.

'All sounds pretty plausible to me. So what went wrong?'

'That was exactly what I asked him. Jesus had the support of the people, and of course, he was the Son of God, so I believe Judas' way of thinking was quite sound. He went on to tell me he was utterly devastated when he heard Jesus was to be crucified. That's why he went storming into the temple to confront the high priest. Turns out the priest and council had set up a deal with the Romans, and Jesus was the prize. Judas had gone to Jesus to try and explain, but before he got the words out, Jesus told him to be calm, to have faith; everything was happening as it should. After that, he couldn't get close enough to explain himself to Jesus; the other followers wouldn't let him near, nor would they listen to him themselves. The people he loved shunned him and his anger at the high priest had only made things worse. He'd thrown the money he'd received back at them, and they'd given him land in return. Thirty pieces of silver was the fee, thirty pieces of silver
— a pitiful sum for giving up the Lord of love and compassion. He repeated "thirty pieces of silver", over and over, to himself. That's the thing that clinched it for me; I believed he was telling the truth. As
I told you before, I'd offered him twice that amount just for an audience with Jesus.'

Once again, Travis nodded in agreement with Probandi.

'Judas was lower than I'd ever seen anyone in my life. He couldn't, and wouldn't, forgive himself.'

'I know how that feels,' Travis muttered.

'There was nothing I could say to make him feel better, so I wished him well and told him I was sure Jesus had forgiven him. He just thanked me, and then returned to the temple and his prayers. Not long after that I heard that he'd hanged himself in the Field of Blood.
Part of me believed he'd sunk so low there was nothing left to him but to take his own life — but a small part of me believes the priests had something to do with it.'

It had been an amazing day for Travis; with Probandi's help, he was going to unveil Jesus — his own Jesus; his own forgiveness. In return for the identification, Probandi was promised the chance to be 'cured of his sins' by Jesus, and with Travis' open chequebook he would regain his opulent lifestyle, but in the twenty-first century.

Travis wasted no more time. He called a meeting to discuss the specifics of the unveiling.

'So this is what your office looks like. It's enormous — funny, isn't it, the way some men seem to compensate for less adequate aspects of themselves?' Wainright was walking towards Travis' office window as he spoke.

Picking up on the not so subtle innuendo, Travis said, 'With all the moles you've planted around the place, I'm surprised you haven't copied my office as well!'

Wainright came back in an accusing tone. 'That reminds me — whatever did happen to our friend Mr Needham?'

Already bored with their macho display, Dale Galbraith jumped in.
'Either you two get a room or let's get down to the matter at hand.'

All three men were slightly embarrassed, Travis and Wainright by their own churlish behaviour and Galbraith by his potentially career-limiting comment.

Travis had called Galbraith earlier that day and informed him of the latest addition to the cloning challenge. He briefly told Galbraith
Stemtex had planted a mole at Travicom and Wainright had muscled his way in. A million questions must have raced around inside
Galbraith's head, but Travis told him Wainright's involvement was a good thing, and that was that. End of story. Galbraith knew he wasn't going to get a chance to argue the point, so he accepted it; under the circumstances what else could he do?

When the three of them sat down to plan the event, Wainright took control; after all, as he pointed out, it was going to be
his
grand finale.
Galbraith, unaware of the finer points of the Travis/Wainright meeting, was silenced by Travis before he had chance to interrupt.

'The way I see it,' Wainright began, 'since the estimated unveiling date is around Easter, I believe there would be no better place for this to happen than in Jerusalem.'

This sparked an outburst from Galbraith. 'Are you mad? The logistics of getting everyone to meet in Jerusalem, even given plenty of warning, would be difficult enough, but to try to do it in less than a week is plain ridiculous.'

Unable to agree, they turned to Travis to adjudicate. 'What do you think, Travis?' they asked in unison.

Travis had his hands joined in front of his face, as though he was deep in prayer. He'd tuned out the bickering as he thought about
Wainright's proposal. Easter was the date they were targeting, and he was certain everyone would be ready, but he hadn't thought about the location until now; he'd more or less assumed it would be Los
Angeles.

Jerusalem sounded excellent, but Galbraith had a point. Doing it here in the United States would be difficult enough; it would be almost impossible to get everything set up in another country in under a week.

'How could we do better than that? Unveiling his re-creation at the time and place of his death and resurrection?' Wainright added.

'Even if you take the time factor out of the equation, do you have any idea how difficult it would be to get the three clones, and their entourages, from three different countries, into a religious country during one of their biggest religious festivals? I tell you, it's impossible,' Galbraith argued.

'No, my pessimistic legal friend, what's impossible is the scientific feat we've performed; the rest should be easy!'

Wainright and Galbraith were starting to square off at each other again.

'Wait a moment. I've got an idea,' Travis said, jumping out of his seat. He moved to his desk and flicked on the computer while the other two men sat and watched. Travis logged on and searched the internet until he found what he was looking for.

'Gentlemen, I believe I have an answer that can satisfy you both.
We will unveil the clone of Jesus, at Easter, and in Jerusalem.' And he went on to explain.

Taylor had arrived at the office early in the hope of doing some additional snooping before Travis arrived. She put her handbag under her desk and made her way to Travis' office door. She had her hand on the doorknob when she heard the unmistakable, booming voice of
Douglas Wainright III.

'Jerusalem at Easter, the press is going to love it!'

Taylor rushed to her desk and switched on the telephone intercom.
She listened as the three men finished their conversation.

'I agree it's still a logistical nightmare to get the clones to Jerusalem, but if Douglas here wants to go out with what promises to be the biggest scientific media event since man landed on the moon, then this is the way to do it,' Travis said.

She heard the other two agreeing.

'Dale, can you get the ball rolling with the others; the Twins will be able to organize any forged documents should anyone not have local contacts of their own. Douglas, I think you should take the next few days to get your affairs in order; you really don't want to get caught after this news breaks to the world.'

Taylor heard what sounded like a briefcase being opened. Then came Wainright's voice. 'We've already started to close down our out-of-state facility; our biggest headache is the clone's mother. She's outlived her usefulness to us, and since you're taking the clone, I thought maybe you'd have need for her in the future — as a resource.
A copy of all the data on her is in here.'

Travis replied, 'That's probably wise in the short term. Can you have her transported to your plant in Sorrento? We'll handle her from there.'

'Sure thing; I'll have her there on Thursday at midday.'

Taylor couldn't believe her ears. Malone had been right about almost everything. She didn't know what to do. Part of her just wanted to run screaming out of the building, straight to Malone, but the more rational side of her was convinced she needed to wait; she had to take as much proof with her as possible. She wanted to make it easy for
Malone to stop this madness.

She listened until the meeting concluded, then hung up. She picked up her bag and went to the elevator. The doors slowly opened and she walked backwards into the elevator; as she did so, Travis' office door opened, and she was faced with the three men. Taylor walked back towards the office as if she was just arriving for work. Although she was slightly flustered, she managed a smile.

'Wow, a full house! And here I was thinking I'd get my work done in peace this morning. Can I get any of you a coffee?'

Without waiting for a reply Taylor walked to her desk, dropped her bag, and was moving toward the coffee machine when Dale spoke.

'I'm fine, thank you — just leaving.'

'Me too, darlin',' Wainright boomed.

Travis was slow to speak; he was a little disconcerted at Taylor's early appearance. 'Thank you gentlemen; look forward to seeing you soon.' He had moved to the elevator and was holding the door open.
As the doors closed on the two men, Travis turned to Taylor.

'Late nights
and
early mornings? I do seem to have you working hard. Unless of course there's another show on cable you've come in to see!'

'You get caught playing hookey from work one time, and they never let you hear the end of it,' Taylor replied and forced a smirk as she poured his coffee.

Travis went over to her and took the mug from her hand. 'I think it's time for you and me to have a little chat.'

***

Wainright and Galbraith stood at opposite sides of the elevator as it descended, silent, each thinking his own thoughts.

Galbraith eyed Wainright with contempt. He was thinking about how this man had managed to wangle his way into this project, and not just a bit part either; he was starting to call the shots. The meeting ran through his mind, the location for the unveiling, Wainright's clone, the clone's mother . . . the clone's mother . . .

'I have a question Douglas. I can only guess how the Europeans have managed to get a girl to be part of this whole thing, but tell me
— how did you manage to convince an American girl to be the clone's mother? I mean, how much did it cost and where did you find her?

Wainright's laughter boomed. 'Convince? Galbraith, you're a laugh a minute. Boy, you really are as naïve as you look. This is one of those situations where taking was so much easier than negotiating.'

'What do you mean?' Galbraith asked, wincing at the insult.

'I mean, my law-abiding friend . . . you think setting up the unveiling by Easter was a problem! Have you ever tried to find a virgin in
LA, let alone a Virgin Mary!' He smiled at his own joke. 'I'm afraid
I wasn't very creative when it finally came time to picking her up, though. I ended up copying something I remembered seeing in the news about five years ago.'

The elevator doors opened and Wainright exited, leaving Galbraith with his mouth wide open.

***

Travis led Taylor into his office. 'Now Taylor, I know you're not a fool, and I sure hope you don't take me for one.'

Taylor fidgeted.

'I know that you've been snooping around my office.'

The blood drained from her face, and her whole body became heavy. 'I uh, I . . .'

'It's okay, I understand. What with all the clandestine meetings, and of course with Douglas Wainright on the scene, who wouldn't be nervous? I want to put your mind at ease, once and for all — we are not being taken over by Stemtex.'

The breath that Taylor didn't realize she was holding burst from her mouth, and her shoulders visibly dropped as her tension abated.

Having seen her unravel before him, Travis continued with a smile.
'Steady on there, I didn't realize you were so worried about it.'

Having quickly composed herself, Taylor replied, 'The thought of working for that man was awful.'

'What, worse than me?'

'Marginally!'

They both laughed.

With Taylor happy, and the plans for the clones' unveiling in motion, Travis decided to call on Probandi again. There was so much he wanted to hear about that life lived so long ago. Telling Taylor he'd be out for the rest of the afternoon — and that she should do the same — Travis left the building, jumped into his car and headed out to Sorrento.

But with Travis gone, and his suspicion of her lifted, Taylor went straight to the cabinet by the window.

She requested a meeting at the Side Car Café on the outskirts of Beverly
Hills. It was an old train carriage converted into a café. Malone knew it well, if only in passing. Their nine o'clock rendezvous meant it was already dark. Malone didn't know what to expect — she'd sounded worried, almost frightened. What news did Taylor have for him?

Malone sat in a booth drinking coffee. The waitress had been pleasant, asking how his day had been and following up with bits of
Hollywood gossip. Since delivering the drink she'd left him alone, but he could sense she wanted to keep up some kind of conversation with him.

Taylor arrived at nine-fifteen, wearing a thick, homely jumper; it was strikingly different to the formal attire he'd last seen her in. The way she was dressed made her seem plain — easy to overlook — but when her sparkling blue eyes met his, Malone realized how distinctive she actually was. She was carrying a woman's black briefcase, and her knuckles were white from the grip she had on the handle.

Malone stood and ushered her into the booth. As she sat down, her
Dolce and Gabbana fragrance wafted to his side of the table. It was the scent his wife had worn.

'Sorry I'm late, but I had trouble finding a parking spot,' she apologized.

Malone knew there were plenty of parks around, and he guessed she'd probably contemplated not showing up. 'That's okay, I haven't been here long.'

The waitress arrived at their table with her pad and pen ready.
'What can I get you to drink?' Her manner was a little more curt than before but still had a warm feel to it.

'Do you have a wine list?' Taylor asked.

'We have a red and a white, both house, and both quite nasty.'

'I guess I'll have the white, would you like one?' she asked
Malone.

'No, I don't . . . Just a coffee refill when you're ready,' he felt a little glow in his cheeks at giving away his drinking secret. Taylor seemed to acknowledge it, but let it go.

'I didn't expect to hear from you again,' Malone began, in an effort to move on as quickly as possible.

'I said to you last time I'd call you if I found out anything.' Her tone was as sharp as the waitress'.

'What have you got for me then?' His question was more direct than he would have liked, but he was slightly disappointed that she was looking at this as a kind of business transaction. As Taylor drew a breath, the waitress came with the drinks. They both declined any food for the moment, and the waitress went back behind the counter.

Taylor looked around the café to see if there was anyone close enough to hear. Except for a young girl dressed in what looked like a Hertz uniform at the other end of the room, they were alone. She began, 'I've been on an emotional roller coaster ride since the last time we met. You had me so convinced Travis was an immoral monster that I didn't even want to go back to the office.'

Taylor was speaking quietly and Malone leaned forward to listen.

'I found out that when you watch someone closely because you suspect them of something, they do all sorts of peculiar and dubious things. I won't bore you with the details, but you should try it one day.
Hell, I even got suspicious when he took too long in the toilet! Anyway, the thing is, I was convinced he was up to something. He'd come in late, miss appointments, was out of reach for hours on end — all unusual behaviours for Travis. So I did some snooping, and almost got caught red-handed for my efforts.'

'What happened?'

'Don't worry; I managed to cover it up. The thing is, Travis knew
I was suspicious but he assumed I was worried about a corporate take-over. We had a meeting about it earlier today; according to him,
Travicom and another company called Stemtex are working closely on a new communications project and there's no question of a merger or a corporate takeover . . .'

Malone looked puzzled. 'Why are you telling me all this? What has this got to do with anything we've talked about?'

'I'm getting to that.' Taylor was working herself up as she told her story. 'Simon Travis is a lying bastard and I have proof of it.'

She reached for her case and pulled out some files. Placing them on the table, she went on, 'Joint communications project, my ass. They're all in it — up to their eyeballs!'

Malone started to flick through the files. Company names and codes on the tabs made no sense to him at all, but he knew the contents would.

'You were right about Travis, Malone. He's mixed up in a religious cloning experiment, but there's not just one company involved; including
Travicom, there are four of them!'

She reached over and started to sort the files out for him. 'He's using Dale Galbraith to front the thing, but Simon Travis is definitely behind it all. Or at least he was until the other day. Now, it seems, he's got a partner in all of this, someone as crazy as he is — Douglas
Wainright III from Stemtex.'

Malone's eyes were darting from one file to another.

'The other two companies involved are overseas. One in Russia and one in Germany.' Taylor tapped the files as she spoke. 'There's a race on between the companies to present Travis with a clone of Jesus;
I still can't work out the reason why. But I do know where and when it's going to happen.'

Malone's mind was flooding with questions.

'One last thing. Travis hasn't kidnapped anyone that I know of, but
I overheard Wainright talking about a girl. I've found out who she is; you were right, she's the local girl.'

Malone knew instantly who she was talking about.

'Mary Salinas!' he blurted. The waitress and the Hertz girl both turned towards them. Malone noticed but didn't care. 'Mary Salinas,'
he repeated.

Taylor nodded and pushed the top file towards him.

'They have been busy,' Malone said as he stared at the files. 'I don't know where to begin. You said something about knowing where and when the presentation of the clones is going to be?'

'They've set the date for this Monday.'

'Easter Monday — how apt. Don't tell me it's going to be in
Jerusalem.'

Taylor nodded.

'You're kidding me!' Malone's mouth dropped open.

'I've been thinking this through; this girl Mary, she's being moved from wherever she's been to the Stemtex lab in Sorrento. Travis is going to pick her up there at noon tomorrow. I couldn't find out where she's being held at the moment, but I think if the cops jump on them now, the girl's life could be at risk. I think we should wait and go for her when she's about to be picked up by Travis. She should be the priority; I mean once we have her and she's safe, Travis and the rest of them can easily be picked up at Stemtex or the airport — or the
FBI, or CIA, or whoever handles this kind of thing, can grab them in
Jerusalem.'

Malone leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair.
He needed to think. What Taylor said about Mary made sense.

'I think I need something to eat while I'm skimming through these files. Do you mind staying with me in case I need your help?'

'I'm all yours,' Taylor replied, and then blushed when she realized what she'd said.

Oblivious, Malone called the waitress over.

While they were eating they went through the files in depth. It was all there: the challenge, the companies involved, the results to date. All the company heads were implicated, and countless international laws had been broken. The magnitude of the case was vast and far reaching, and Malone was still at a loss where to begin. He waded through the files again and opened the one about Mary Salinas. Malone looked at her name on the page and his mind drifted back to her picture on the TV screen at the Dog Box.

'It all started with her. I think you're right; Mary Salinas is our first priority.' Happy with his decision, Malone closed the folder and smiled at Taylor. 'You've taken a hell of a risk doing all this.'

Taylor waved it off. She felt relieved, happy to have unburdened herself.

The waitress came to their table and cleared the plates. 'Can I get you anything else?' she asked.

'Maybe another glass of wine for me,' Taylor replied.

'Just a refill on the coffee, thanks.'

'I never said how sorry I was about your daughter. It must have been dreadful for you to face her killer.' Taylor wanted to ask more about the killer. What was he like? Did he show any remorse? How did Malone feel when he met him? It was more than morbid curiosity, she was genuinely interested, but she was worried it would come across as just being nosy.

'Thank you, it somehow feels like such a long time ago now. In many ways I'm glad it's all over; it's given me the basics of closure. I would be happier if the bastard would tell me where her body was so
I could give her a proper burial, but . . .'

They were both quiet and reflective for a moment.

The waitress brought over their drinks, and with her glass in hand
Taylor reclined in the bench seat. As she did this, her leg met Malone's under the table; neither of them pulled away. The atmosphere changed a little as the chemistry between them increased.

Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe she just felt comfortable enough to take the conversation to a deeper, more personal level. Either way,
Taylor decided to ask a question that had been brewing since their last meeting. 'Please tell me to mind my own business if you want, but what happened to Mrs Malone? You told me she'd passed away.'

Malone was slightly shocked at the question, but recognized immediately what it signified; Taylor was interested in him. He pondered the best way to start as he slowly put down his coffee.

'It was a year and a week after my daughter's abduction and, as usual, I'd been out canvassing the streets with flyers. Pictures of Mary with "Have you seen this girl?" printed on them. As usual, my wife and I had an argument that morning . . . about my obsession with trying to find Mary, and my feeling that Barbara had given up — or even worse, didn't care. I left the house, slamming the door and swearing. As I said, it was becoming almost a ritual. By the end of the day, we'd both calmed down as a rule and were able to live in relative harmony until the next morning. So I was expecting Barbara to be her regular cooled-off self when I came home. But this time things were different, this time it was the house that was cold when
I arrived — cold, dark, and empty. Had she finally done what she'd been threatening to do and left me? I had no idea it was something far worse. Anyway, I was angry; I threw my bag on the floor in the living room and went to the liquor cabinet for my usual — increasingly large
— glass of whiskey. On the way to the freezer to get some ice, I saw a note next to the phone.

M,
Got a lead about Mary on the machine,
Going to check it out myself.
I do care!
See you later
Babs x
PS Why is your cell off?

I looked at the machine and there were no messages listed, so I pressed the replay button, and a woman's voice spoke in a whisper. I remember the message word for word.

'"I know who has your daughter Mary. She's locked in a room under my boyfriend's place. I can't tell you over the phone where it is.

Meet me on the east corner of 124th Street and Alameda at three. He's gonna find out it's me who told, so bring a couple of grand cash so
I can split. Oh, and come alone, no cops."'

Malone took a break from his story. He felt reluctant to go on.

Taylor reached forward and gently gripped his hand.

'I immediately thought something was wrong about the message.
I can remember replaying it again and again, listening closer and closer each time. It was the couple of grand cash that bothered me. We'd put up a reward of a hundred thousand, so why wouldn't she want that?
I mulled over the idea that maybe she was a concerned citizen. But then, I thought if she was such a concerned citizen, and not in it for the reward, why would she ask for a couple of grand — cash? It just didn't add up. I checked the clock; it was eight o'clock. If Barbara had met her at three, surely she'd be back by now; I didn't like it at all. My heart had begun to race as fast as the thoughts going through my head, so I called my friend Detective Logan. As he instructed,
I held the phone close to the machine's speaker and played the tape again. Logan said he was sure everything would be fine, but he'd send a squad car to check the area. He told me not to worry and he'd call me back later.'

Malone paused again and Taylor tightened her grip.

'I paced around the house, I couldn't settle. The time ticked slowly past, driving me crazy. At one in the morning, five hours after his call, there was a knock at my door. Logan was standing outside, his head down, and all he could say was, "I'm sorry".'

Malone's voice was a croak. He took a swig of coffee and cleared his throat before continuing. Taylor held one of her hands over her mouth in shock.

'The drive to the morgue was almost unbearable; I was numb and beaten. When we got there, I knew my wife was going to be under the dark green sheet, but I couldn't bring myself to authorize the unveiling. Finally, I took a deep breath and nodded. When the sheet was pulled back, I almost collapsed. Her face was disfigured, a mess of blood. I was in shock and utterly bewildered; I asked Logan who could have done this to such a beautiful woman? He just shook his head slowly. The next thing I knew, I was banging the steel table and yelling "No, no, no," until Logan pulled me away. "How could this happen?" I remember screaming at him. Then my anger changed direction.

I dropped to my knees and looked up at the ceiling. I shook my fist and yelled "Why? Why me? Haven't I given you everything?"'

Malone's recall was so total that Taylor had to calm him. The waitress looked on as Taylor held and rubbed his hands, shushing him quietly.

'I lost my faith that night,' Malone said, tears filling his eyes.

He pulled his hands away from hers, and rubbed his face. After steadying himself, he took her hand again and continued, this time more clinically.

'On the anniversary of Mary's abduction they'd done a re-enactment of the crime on TV. The police thought maybe someone had seen us or, in particular, Barbara, on TV, and conned her into meeting them. The police report said she was tied down, raped and then beaten to death.
Of course they took the money too. What type of sick fucks would do that?' His rhetorical question was almost a whisper. 'She was found around the corner from the meeting point, behind a dumpster, left there like a pile of garbage.'