"It was scary, but to tell you the truth, it was kinda neat too, especially when Uncle Harry told me his theory that Jesus might have been from another planet. I guess every kid likes to think he's special. He made me promise not to tell Aunt Martha or anyone else because he was afraid of what people might think or do. He was especially worried about the fundamentalist Christians who would think it was a sin to clone Jesus. He said that the only other person who knew about me was you. And, of course, you were in Lebanon."
"But how can you remember these things?"
"Uncle Harry wondered about that, too, and he had a theory that he thought might explain it. He said that each cell in the body has the blueprints for the whole body – not just things like race and sex and hair color and eye color and whether you'll be tall or short, but everything that every other cell in the body needs to know to function. That's how the single cell of a fertilized egg can reproduce to form something as complex as a human being. The information even tells the cells in a finger which finger they're in and how they're supposed to grow so that finger fits with the other fingers on the hand, and is the same size as the matching finger on the other hand. He said that information is also what makes cloning possible.
"Uncle Harry's theory was that the cells may include even more information than all of that. He said that about 95% of human DNA is called 'junk DNA' by scientists because they still don't know what it's for. He thought maybe the junk DNA is used by cells to record any changes in other cells, so that every cell stores the information from every other cell, including the cells of the brain. He said that might also answer some questions about evolution and something he called the collective unconscious of the species, but he didn't really explain that." Decker recognized the reference to the theories of Sigmund Freud's protégé, Carl Jung.
"Before he and Aunt Martha died, Uncle Harry was experimenting with some white mice to see if a cloned mouse would remember its way through a maze that the original mouse had been trained to go through. I don't think he ever completed his work on that.
"He thought that maybe the reason my memory is only partial is because of the cellular trauma of crucifixion, resurrection, and cloning."
"Do you remember anything after Jesus's resurrection?" Decker asked.
"No. Uncle Harry said that I wouldn't remember anything about that because I was cloned from a cell left on the Shroud only seconds after the resurrection."
"Is there anything else besides the crucifixion that you remember about your life as Jesus?"
"Uncle Harry tried to spur my memory by having me read parts of Aunt Martha's Bible. It was interesting, but it didn't help me remember anything. There was one thing in the Bible that seemed really confused, though."
Decker was intrigued. "What was that, Christopher? What was confused?"
"Well, the Bible made it seem like Jesus knew he was going to be killed, like it was all planned out, but that's not the way it was. I know this all sounds kinda strange, but in my dream, before the crucifixion, I remember being in front of Pilate and he was asking me questions. The whole time I just kept thinking that any minute I'd be rescued by angels. But something went wrong. Mr. Hawthorne, the crucifixion wasn't supposed to happen! For hours I hung on that cross with spikes driven through my wrists and feet, trying to understand what went wrong. That's why I said, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' I wasn't supposed to die. God was supposed to rescue me!"
Remembering this was obviously a painful experience for Christopher. "I'm sorry," Decker said, as he put his hand on the boy's shoulder and tried to comfort him.
At that moment the phone rang.
Decker gave Christopher's back a comforting rub and went to answer the phone. It was Ambassador Hansen. "Decker, I don't know any way to say this to make it any easier on you," Hansen said, "so I'm just going to read you the dispatch I received from Ambassador Rogers in Tel Aviv.
As per your request, at about five o 'clock Eastern time, midnight Israeli time, a driver was dispatched to Tel Hashomer Hospital to bring Mr. Tom Donafin back to the British Embassy with the intention of expediting his departure from Israel. The driver and Mr. Donafin were expected back within two hours. Three hours later, that is about three o 'clock a.m. Israeli time, the driver had still not returned to the Embassy and could not be reached by mobile phone.
In keeping with standard operating procedures, a search team was dispatched to cover the route that the driver had indicated on his itinerary. The search team was unsuccessful in finding either the driver or the car, but they did verify that Mr. Donafin had checked out of the hospital and left with the driver from the Embassy.
The search team expanded their search to include some likely alternate routes and at about seven thirty a. m. Israel time, they located what was left of the car, which was positively identified by the license plate.
"Decker, I'm sorry," Hansen concluded. "It appears that the car took a direct hit from a stray missile or artillery shell and was completely destroyed. There were no survivors."
New York
The wealth of the Bragford family was clearly evident in the solid cherry wood paneling, rich carpeting, and highly polished brass which presented former U.N. Assistant Secretary-General Robert Milner and Alice Bernley with perfect mirrored images of themselves and the operator who was piloting the private elevator to the penthouse office of the family's guiding force, David Bragford.
Most of Robert Milner's adult life had been spent in the presence of the wealthy and powerful. Raising large amounts of money from rich patrons for special projects at the U.N. came with the job of being Assistant Secretary-General, and Milner was quite good at it. The experience had its benefits. He knew what it took to separate the rich from their money, at least small portions of it. He had become adept at getting what he wanted by alternately stroking an ego and stoking a sense of guilt for having so much while others starved.
Still, Milner held a deeply seated distrust of those with great wealth, and certainly there were few on earth who possessed such wealth as did the Bragfords. Men like David Bragford were altogether different from the garden-variety rich. While it was true that the Bragford family had been very extravagant in their support of the U.N. – indeed, the Bragfords had been instrumental in financing the original organization of the U.N. – Milner had found that such extravagance is never born purely of generosity. When they gave, there was usually something they expected in return and in Milner's experience, at the very least that meant intrusion.
It was, therefore, with some discomfort that he agreed to accompany Alice Bernley to Bragford's office. Bernley was positive, she said, that this was the right thing to do and that Bragford would help them. She had consulted her spirit guide, the Tibetan Master Djwlij Kajm, and he had left no doubt that Bragford was to be consulted.
At the conclusion of their ascent to the penthouse, they were met by David Bragford's administrative assistant who escorted them past two security posts to a mammoth office where David Bragford sat comfortably on the edge of his desk, talking on the telephone. Beside the desk, on the white carpeting, lay a full-grown black Labrador retriever who, unlike their host, seemed to take no notice of their arrival. Bragford quickly finished his conversation and joined his guests in a sitting area of the office.
"Alice, Mister Assistant Secretary-General, welcome," Bragford said, affording Milner the honor of his previous post. "Can I get you anything? Would you like some coffee?" Bragford had his secretary bring coffee for his guests while he shared niceties with Alice Bernley and Robert Milner about their recent projects. The arrival of the coffee seemed to mark the end of small talk and the beginning of discussion of the business at hand.