Sacred Flesh (3 page)

But Jim Dunbar has no reason to know this history as he speeds to the Ravens Den lounge. A perfect clandestine meeting place away from home, not the sort of upscale establishment frequented by his university colleagues. It is relatively safe to meet her here, he thinks while pulling into the parking lot, still not really believing that he is meeting her, not even sure what to call it that, just getting together a few times since she first came to office hours. He felt the attraction, mutual yes, but he held back until after the semester was complete. Still, she dropped by to say hi and they began talking and flirting. He felt her presence as a welcomed relief from the overbearing pressure, the consent need to prove himself to a world that was slowly turning its back on him. She listened to his dreams, his ideas, like no one else did even if in the back of his mind he knew the reality of having his own research lab and making a name in his field were fading, slipping away, at least
someone
was still listening. Soon there were drinks and quick meetings in places whose names were always unimportant and quickly forgotten.

The young student, Melody, returns to her dreamer life pursuing the tug of becoming an actress upon some stage other than ordinary life. Meanwhile, she studies toward her bachelor’s degree and is happy taking orders at the sandwich shack, a little place in the student union center. Her intro biology class last semester allowed her to pursue another far more carnal dream, that in the form of a much older man, a secret friend that she always desired.

Jim Dunbar having tied his brown shoe laces returns to his car and the drive to his university office. All the time wandering why this pretty young thing chose him to hang out with. This can’t go on forever, he says to himself pulling onto the main thoroughfare, pressing the accelerator while merging into traffic, This really isn’t me. I don’t even know why this is happening. I just need to get that grant, it could so easily lead to more money and recognition and then finally I can get my own lab, a staff, I could really move the ‘working flesh’ idea along. Then people will listen. Then they will want to read my articles. His mind begins to wonder toward the letter in his briefcase. What should I do? They are expecting an answer soon. He drives for another ten minutes then turns off the highway and onto the long tree lined winding road with the tall limestone university clock tower poking up toward the sky.

“It is them. They have two, maybe three of the relics. We believe they stole one from a church less than two weeks ago,” Belo says.

“How can we be sure?” Roman asks.

“We have our people working in the field. They were able to trace the culprit to America, somewhere in the east.”

“Well, that certainly narrows it down.” Roman lends back in his chair.

“In some ways it truly does. The
Elite
has been known to go mobile when they sense danger. They’ve been known to separate and travel in opposite directions for months at a time if need be, making them difficult to track down particularly if they know we are looking for them,” Belo says.

“And they know this?” Jean injects.

“Oh sure, they know. They have to know we’ve been searching for the foreskins. Those relics rightfully belong to the church,” Belo answers.

“What do you think they will do with them, do they know about our plans?” Roman asks.

“I don’t think they do, not unless one of us told them. They know we want them, but why is only known to us,” Belo says.

“They are up to something I fear,” Roman says.

“Yes, they are. They are more advanced than I thought. We believe they may have contacted a biology professor in America to perform DNA testing. The same tests we wish to perform to determine the same answer we seek,” Belo says.

“If one of them is His?” Roman asks.

“Yes, exactly and if they do indeed have the DNA of Christ then we must use all measures to stop them,” Belo says.

“Perhaps we can negotiate with them, everyone has a price no?” Jean asks.

“I’m not so confident I would trust them in any negotiations,” Belo answers.

“They are not to be trusted EVER! Look what they have done, they have stolen the very flesh of the Savior directly from the belly of The Church!” Roman exclaims.

“We have another option open at this time,” Belo states.

“What is this you speak of?” Jean asks.

“I have someone ready to go to the U.S. and locate the biology professor. We get to him before the tests are performed and tell him who he is getting involved with in the
Elite
. Then we convince him to work for us,” Belo says.

“And this plan will work?” Roman asks.

“Certainly, I believe it can. But we must move quickly. In fact our Go Man is at the airport now waiting for our call.”

“You seem nervous Jim, everything all right?” Glenn says standing in Jim’s office.

“Oh, ah, no I’m fine, just tired that’s all,” Jim says while sitting down behind his desk, the lines in his face seeming a little deeper than before.

“We waited for you down at the committee meeting, you know end of semester.”

“Oh damn, that’s right that was today wasn’t it,” Jim says.

“No big deal usual stuff, budget crap. I covered for you.”

“Thanks Glenn.” Jim says rubbing his beard.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Glenn asks.

“Yeah, I’m just going to grab some coffee or something.”

“Okay, Maybe I’ll see you this weekend, I got a tee time Saturday afternoon.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll call you Glenn.”

“Okay friend, get some sleep,” He strolls out of the office closing the door behind him.

Jim buries his hands in his face wandering if his anxiety is obvious to his colleague. Rubbing his eyes he stares out the office window still trying to believe that what just occurred an hour ago did in fact happened. How the day before yesterday he finally called the phone number on the letter. The odd, hollow sounding old man who answered directed him to the local bowling alley café. What an odd a place to meet. But he went, sitting there with a cup of coffee and a fried pork tenderloin sandwich (that he didn’t really want but felt compelled to order in an effort to fit in with the crowd.) By the time he thought he would actually have to begin eating the fried sandwich the contact arrived; a very indiscrete looking middle aged man, in a white polo shirt and blue jeans carrying a bowling bag that looked like it had never been used. He saw Jim and came right over. How does he know it’s me? Jim thought nervously to himself but before he could collect his thoughts the man was sitting directly across from him smiling while extending a hand.

“Good to see you, glad you made it.”

“Sure, kind of a unique place for a meeting of such a serious nature,” Jim says.

”It’s better here,” he says.

Jim nods, not really understanding what he means, surely he isn’t talking about the sandwiches.

“He looks a little nervous, maybe unsure of himself but I don’t know if it’s this so much or maybe he’s worried about his wife finding out about the pretty young lady he’s been with lately,” he says into the phone while sitting at his desk.

“He must be solid. You told us he was dependable,” the voice on the other end of the phone replies.

“He’ll do fine. He’s just got to get used to the idea of doing secret DNA testing. I’m sure when he picks up the first payment he’ll settle right into the operation.”

“You’ll call again, after the next appointment?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Haggai,” he slowly hangs up the phone on his desk. His eyes scan his office as he listens to the sound of passing footsteps in the hallway. In the darkness he sits looking over the list of members. Their
Elite
names next to the monetary reward scheduled for each. He smiles to himself thinking of all the money the church will gladly lay at the feet of him and his friends once they realize that the
Elite
has The Child. Surely, they will stop at nothing to have access to The Child.

What genuine power we will wield, he smiles, how long it has been building to this point. Oh the work, time, and energy invested and now the crucial turning point, that poor fool Dunbar down the hall, little does he know what a great role he is playing. I almost wish I could tell him but no, it is better he remain in darkness. He is not an
Elite
, not from the pedigree. (He fondly remembers when his father reveled to him the
Elite
bloodline and whence it all originated.)

“We’ve lost her.”

“What the hell do you mean lost her?” Haggai says wrinkling up his thick white eyebrows.

“The woman we had had impregnated with the DNA from the first sample, she’s fallen out of touch I guess you’d say,” Logos says while he and Cosward stand in the middle of Haggai’s dimly lit office.

“Explain to me just how the hell we lose touch with the sample woman? The one who could conceivably be carrying The Child and we just lose touch with her?” he says clutching his fists.

“We had her squirreled away in an apartment downtown where we could watch her. She’s still early in the pregnancy only two months,” Cosward says.

“We’re still paying her right?” Haggai asks.

“Oh yes, rent, food, all that paid for. I guess maybe she got restless or something. You know we didn’t let her move around on her own much, maybe we should have let her go shopping or something,” Logos says.

“Oh sure and then who knows what could happen. You realize how much money and trouble we have invested in her and we’re just going to let her wander around the mall. Oh sure, get her a credit card, the woman carrying The Child of Christ. She’s good for it! Damn it anyway!” Haggai throws up his hands and quickly turns in his large black leather chair.

“We could,” Cosward says stepping forward.

“We could find her that’s what we could do,” he says turning back around to face them. “Get some people together and get out there. I want her found and secured quickly; this could be everything we’ve worked for! We can’t afford any margin of error. That professor is performing the first DNA test as we speak from the same sample that she’s carrying, if it comes back as His then she’s the one but now we’ve lost her!”

“We’ll find her Haggai,” Logos offers.

“We’d better the whole future of the
Elite
is riding on it.”

The large mechanical bird lands swiftly amid the bright airport lights. He steps off the plane and into the airport tired from the long flight from Europe.

The circle of bags eventually gives up his and he heads for the waiting car and its hired driver to take him to the hotel. There are to be no delays, he remembers his instructions clearly, get to Jim Dunbar as fast as possible, tell him everything, he must be shown the evil of the
Elite
and be inspired to work for The Church, this is your mission. He plays the scene over in his mind, the three old men sitting in a circle around the huge wooden conference table in the undercroft office.

“Why do they always bother me?” He thinks while walking down the hotel hallway toward his room. “If I’d only done things differently, made better choices when I was young I wouldn’t be in this situation, forever in the debt of a few.” He stops at the room door, sliding in his key card he quickly opens the door and flips on the light. Closing the door behind him he turns and jumps in his skin.

“Who are you?”

The lab is mostly dark. Jim is completely distracted. He’s just placed the first test results in an envelope on the lab counter. It has been two days since he agreed to do the testing, enough time for an unsettling feeling to sit in: is this wrong? He thinks to himself. But the money, the money is so good with half a million I could get some real research done, I could buy my own lab, so who needs the university! That’s all I want, the time and space to work this money can easily do that for me. So who cares if these guys are nuts?

He stares out the window of the third floor lab overlooking the campus remembering when he first came here some twenty seven years ago; so young and naive. He almost smiles picturing himself strolling down the walkway carrying the brown leather briefcase his wife bought him. Those were young days for sure, when possibilities were plentiful and time was an infinite commodity, more than enough to go around, more than enough to last. If I’d only known how untrue all that was, he thinks while rubbing the sides of his face. His thoughts are suddenly forced into the present with the ringing of his cell phone.

“Oh damn! I was supposed to call her this morning,” he turns toward his briefcase and the phone.

He makes the appointment for later that evening knowing his wife has gone with some friends of hers to the gambling boat, ‘the floating Vegas’ giving him plenty of time to return the test results and meet his friend. He carefully and quietly exits the lab. (It’s Saturday so no one is around.) I can make it back safely, back to my office without running into anyone. Why does this feel so wrong? But wrong can be an accustomed sensation at times, certainly hanging out with a young co-ed isn’t exactly correct, using the university lab for covert DNA testing well, what the hell? Maybe I should start cheating on my taxes too. He smiles while quickly carrying his thin frame down the walkway pass the row of old wooden park benches. Next to them, almost completely hidden by a large Hickory tree and some uncut bushes is a greening bronze Plaque mounted on a small piece of marble.