‘Don’t you care anything about the people you damage?’ asked Simone. ‘They’ll never recover.’
‘Progress has always been painful,’ said Ignatius.
Macandrew shot Simone a warning look about pursuing the argument. She changed tack. ‘How do you expect to explain away our presence here in the convent?’ she asked.
Ignatius said, ‘You are Christian volunteers being trained in basic medical techniques before being sent out to our missions abroad. There is no call for you to fraternise with the sisters of the convent; they are an enclosed and contemplative order. Apart from that, one of you is a man. This clinic and your living quarters have been isolated from the rest of the building.’
Macandrew and Simone were ushered into an adjoining room with white and blue ceramic tiles on the walls. There was a single window with vertical iron bars on it; it looked out on a narrow lane some twenty metres below and across to the wall of a neighbouring building less than three metres away. Lighting came from a fluorescent fitting bolted to the ceiling. There was a long laboratory bench with various pieces of equipment on it and two Bunsen burners, their umbilical tubes attached to the same “Y” fitting gas tap.
There were two boxes containing bottles of chemicals listed in Burnett’s notes and there were several wall-mounted cupboards containing glassware and general lab apparatus. A small adjoining room held two camp beds and a toilet and shower cubicle; it had no window.
‘What do you think?’ asked Macandrew, when the door was locked behind them.
‘He’s raving mad,’ whispered Simone.
‘Right, and he’s only going to keep us alive as long as he thinks we’re going to make him more protease.’
Simone looked about her and shrugged. ‘I’m betting neither Ignatius nor Stroud know very much at all about biochemistry. We can fake problems until we think of a way out of here.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Think of a way out of here.’
Eighteen
Stroud prepared to inject Benny Zur. This time he would use a more sophisticated metering device than the simple hypodermic he’d employed first time. This would give him more control over dosage. When he appeared to delay for too long, Ignatius asked why.
‘I’m having second thoughts,’ said Stroud. ‘I’m not sure he’s strong enough.’
Ignatius looked at the heavily sedated figure of Benny Zur. His skin looked pale — almost translucent — and his breathing was shallow. It had been some time since he’d last seen daylight and he’d lost weight through being kept under heavy sedation.
‘Haven’t the sisters been looking after him?’ asked Ignatius.
‘It’s not that,’ said Stroud. ‘His cardio-vascular system hasn’t been exercised in a long time; muscles waste very quickly when they’re not used. I’m not sure he’s going to stand up to the stress of regression.’
‘We’ll just have to take the chance,’ insisted Ignatius. ‘We’ve wasted too much time already. It could take us years to find someone else like him. We might never do it. He has to tell us all he knows.’
‘If he dies we’ll end up with nothing,’ said Stroud. ‘It would be safer to wait. We could ease off the sedation so that he remains conscious for longer periods: we could exercise him, improve his physical condition.’
Ignatius waved away Stroud’s suggestions. ‘No more waiting, we do it now,’ he insisted. ‘Get on with it.’
Stroud shrugged and connected the tube leading from the reservoir to the shunt needle he had taped into place in Zur’s arm. He opened up the small, plastic micro-valve in the line and the contents started to drip-feed slowly into the man’s arm. He kept his eye on the gauge as the level dropped then closed the valve and said, ‘You can begin.’
Benny Zur’s head started to move on the pillow as if stirring from a deep sleep.
Ignatius had a notebook open in front of him. It was the record of Benny’s earlier regression. ‘What is your name?’ he asked.
Benny did not reply. Ignatius kept repeating the question until he did. Benny became distraught. Sweat started to flow freely down his face and a rasping sound came from his throat. Stroud looked worried but Ignatius watched dispassionately. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Tell me your name.’
‘James... James of Caesarea.’
Ignatius leaned forward. ‘How old are you?’
‘Forty-four.’
Ignatius exchanged an excited look with Stroud. ‘Do you remember being in jail in Caesarea?’
‘Years ago.’
‘You met Paul of Tarsus there. Tell me about it. I want to know everything you can remember.’
‘Paul was a good man. He persuaded me that I should become a Christian.’
‘That must have been a dangerous thing to do in a Roman prison?’
‘There was a risk but I saw how things were going and decided to take the chance. It came off. When they let Paul go, they let me go with him.’
Ignatius looked puzzled. ‘But you were a convicted thief, why should the Romans let you go?’
‘When they arrested Paul, the authorities didn’t realise that he was a Roman citizen: they beat him up pretty badly. Of course, when they discovered their mistake, they knew they were in deep trouble. It was the right of every Roman citizen to put their case before the emperor in Rome if they felt an injustice had been done to them and that’s exactly what Paul insisted on doing.’
‘But you weren’t a Roman citizen, why should this affect you?’
‘When Paul said what he intended to do he started to get better treatment and so did his friends — I think the governor hoped Paul would change his mind about taking his case to Rome.’
‘But he didn’t?’
‘No, and eventually he was released into the custody of the centurion, Marcus Aurelius, for the journey to Rome. Paul requested that I and two others be allowed to accompany him on the journey.’
‘Why you?’
‘I was still in the process of becoming a Christian and Paul thought I needed support: he didn’t want me backsliding while he was away. Luckily, the governor was still anxious to please Paul. He was worried about what he might say in Rome so, in the end, I was allowed to go.’
‘What happened then?’ said Ignatius.
‘We were put on board ship.’
‘Bound for Rome?’
‘Not straight away. There was an important Greek on board and we had to take him to Thessalonica — but first, we stopped at Sidon to take on supplies. Paul was allowed to visit old friends in the port after he’d given his word to Marcus that he wouldn’t try to escape. He took me with him.’
‘Why?’
‘He wanted me to meet his friends. They were followers of Jesus before even Paul himself. Paul hadn’t always been a Christian. There had been a time when he’d actually fought against the movement so I think he still felt guilty. Maybe that’s why he worked so hard to make amends. He never seemed to rest.’
‘What about these friends?’ asked Ignatius.
‘They’d heard all about Paul’s success in converting people to the cause of our Lord. They were very pleased to see him and gave him something to take with him to Rome. They said it would protect him and help him in his mission.’
‘What was it that they gave him?’
‘A sword.’