The Miracle Strain (14 page)

A pause as Alex looked into Jack's eyes. "You just want to know where we need to look?"

"That'll do to start with," said Jack gruffly.

Alex shrugged and turned to the back of the folder. He pulled out three pages covered in immaculate handwritten script. Not for Alexander Carter the soulless convenience of a word processor. Alex passed the sheets over to Jack, who leaned forward to take them. Jasmine had to admit that despite her reluctance she was intrigued. Still saying nothing, she sat up and looked at the papers laid out before Jack.

They were lists. Three lists. One in green ink, one in black ink, and one in red. Each list had four columns headed Source, Location, Background, Authenticity. In the Authenticity column each entry had been given one, two, or three stars. She scanned the entries. Some words jumped out at her... Turin Shroud... Weeping Statue... Stigmata... Foreskinof Christ... Santiago de Compostela... Lanciano Eucharist... Relicof Christ.

"Why three lists?" asked Jack.

"I've been a bit lateral in my interpretation of possible sources of Christ's genetic material. The red list is the straightforward inventory of sites around the world claiming to have relics of Christ. You know? Churches, cathedrals, and the like that claim to have either his blood, or his foreskin, or some other part of his body."

"His foreskin?"

"Yes, it was a common relic in the Middle Ages. At one time about five churches around medieval Europe claimed to have it. Anyway, the green list contains all known phenomena where what is apparently 'Christ's blood' has been seen. For example the Weeping Statue of the Madonna at Cittavecchia in Sardinia, where Tom got that fake sample. There are other examples which may be worth looking at. Such as at the bleeding Oleograph in Mirebeau in France. The crucifix of Maria Horta in Portugal..."

Alex checked himself, as if realizing he was getting carried away. "Anyway, they're all on the list." He pointed to the third sheet. "The one in black ink is a list of all registered stigmata. People who apparently bear the crucifixion wounds of Christ. You know? Unexplained wounds in the hands, feet, and side. I just thought it might be worth running some of the blood from their 'wounds' through the Genescope."

Jasmine could see Jack nodding as he went through the list. Alex's notes were neat, thorough, scholarly. Even credible. Jack was plainly hooked and she had to admit she was interested too. Alex knew his stuff, but it was the old man's understated excitement that was so infectious. He was letting Jack sell the idea to himself.

"What about the stars in the right-hand column?" asked Jack. "Three for promising, one for a long shot?"

"Exactly."

"Not many three stars," Jack said, flicking the pages over. "In fact, they're almost all one stars."

Alex gave a wry smile. "I didn't say it would be easy. And given the time I'd only bother with the three stars. The others are undoubtedly fakes. I only listed them to show how many places claim to have this kind of relic."

"Which do you think are the most promising of the few three stars then? You've given the Lanciano Eucharist a good writeup for containing an authentic sample of Christ's blood. And the bleeding Oleograph in Mirebeau."

Alex reached across the table, squinted behind his glasses and directed Jack to a couple of other entries. "The shrine of the Holy Blood in Jerusalem looks good. Relatively. And it's worth checking out the hair sample in Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The circumcised foreskin kept in Calcata was very promising--but that was stolen some years ago. I wouldn't bother with most of the other phenomena or relics."

Jack read them. "What about the Turin Shroud? I thought that was a sure thing."

"Tom needs biological remains. Not fabric."

Jack nodded. "Uh-huh. How about the stigmata?"

Alex shrugged. "Anybody's guess. But the Michelle Pickard woman in Paris and Roberto Zuccato in Turin seem the most authentic. The rest are pretty dubious. Of the total items on all three lists I would say that at least five or six are realistically worth examining."

Jack seemed to become further wrapped up in the list as he quizzed the erudite Alex on the different items. But Jasmine felt more and more confused. On the one hand, she remembered reading about some of the entries in Time magazine, which made the idea suddenly seem less fanciful, even possible. And on the other hand, she couldn't stop herself thinking that the whole notion was blasphemous. She had always squared her Christian beliefs with her work on genetics by telling herself she was saving lives--and therefore the sin of letting people die had to be greater than any charge of tampering with God's work. God, after all, had seen fit to give mankind the intelligence to learn the secrets of its own existence. But this was different--wasn't it?

Jack, oblivious to her disquiet, was clearly more con cerned with the practical considerations. "Okay, Tom, so maybe, just maybe, you get lucky. You find an authentic sample, but surely after two thousand years it'll be in no state for you to do anything with it?"

Tom shook his head. "That shouldn't be a problem. In the mid-nineties scientists were analyzing the DNA of Egyptian pharaohs over three thousand years old. That's over a thousand years earlier. There's even been successful DNA analysis done on the five-thousand-year-old remains of indigenous Indians in South America. As long as the sample's been kept dry it should be okay. Basically, if we can find the DNA, we should be able to use it."

Tom seemed so confident, so sure that this was the right thing to do for Holly, that for the first time Jasmine could recall, she found herself avoiding his eye. Even so, the scientist in her forced her to consider the implications of her friend's proposal. What if they could analyze the genes of the man responsible for the greatest religion the world has ever known? A performer of miracles believed by many to be the son of God, God made flesh? What would they find in the DNA of that flesh?

She felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Yes, this was definitely different from normal genetics. This wasn't just playing with the genes of man; this was far more ambitious--and dangerous. This was playing with the genes of God.

Tom turned to look at her, and she heard the concern in his voice when he said: "Jazz, you've been pretty quiet. How do you feel about all this?"

She still wasn't sure how she felt. Except deeply uncomfortable. "I don't like it. It doesn't feel right," she said quickly. The words came out wrong and sounded unreasonable. But Tom just nodded, indicating he was listening.

She went on, "You don't understand what you're saying. You won't find what you're looking for in Christ's genes. You can't just dissect what made him divine and examine it under a microscope. Christ's power came from God. It was spiritual... Not physical. By even trying to find his DNA you're saying that Christ wasn't resurrected and didn't ascend into heaven. You're assuming he was just a normal man whose bones are lying around somewhere. That goes against everything I've been taught to believe."

Tom shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "You think I'm trying to attack Christianity but I'm not. I need your help too much to mock what you regard as important." He turned to Jack then, who nodded his head thoughtfully. "I need the help of all of you. Without it I've got no chance."

Tom looked back to Jasmine, and she saw him smile, but his honest eyes seemed to bore right into her. She was glad he hadn't used the blackmail card of curing Holly. She would do anything to help her goddaughter. Almost.

She heard Alex clear his throat then run a hand through his still-thick white hair. The old man looked pensive, as if trying to solve a problem. "It doesn't have to be at odds with your beliefs, Jasmine," he said gently.

Her fingers absentmindedly played with the handle of her coffee cup. "Why not?"

The old man stood and began to pace around the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back, as if he were giving one of his theology lectures. "First of all, the resurrection and the ascension are central to your religion. Without them there is no Christianity, right?"

She nodded.

Alex gestured to the papers on the table. "But if you look at the lists you will see not one mention of a physical part of Jesus that would cast doubt on the resurrection and the ascension. All the samples cited could have come from his body before death--hair, blood, and even the famous circumcised foreskin. In fact I could find no records or claims for relics which deny this central tenet of Christianity. Even the Ossuaries found in Jerusalem in 1996, the ones that were claimed to contain Christ's bones, were empty. So even if we wanted to threaten your faith we could find nothing to do so."

Jasmine gave a noncommittal shrug, and waited for Alex to continue.

"You also believe Christ is God incarnate, right? The son of God made flesh?"

"Yes, I do."

"But there's nothing in your religion which tells you how your God passed on his powers to his son. Is there?"

A wary frown. "Not really, no."

"So God could have passed his strength down spiritually, or--and this is what we don't know--Christ may have literally been God incarnate, God made flesh. So that as well as communing with his father through prayer he could, just possibly, have been given something in his genes which gave him his powers--a touch of the divine if you like." The old man paused and looked at her while his right hand fiddled with the fob watch in his vest pocket. "Is that possible, Jazz?"

"It's possible but--"

"But wouldn't you like to find out?"

As always Alex had made her think. The scientist in her challenged the Christian, and posed the great question: What if itwere possible to find divine genes in Jesus' DNA?

Alex reclaimed his seat and leaned back, relaxed. He said, "You could well be right about Jesus getting his power through purely spiritual means. But if you're not and his divinity, as you call it, is in his genes, you still won't have compromised your beliefs. Either way your faith is safe." The old man sat forward then, the blue eyes sparkling with youthful enthusiasm. "But just imagine for a moment that we could isolate what made him special and use it to help mankind. Not just Holly, but everyone. How could your God be against that? Isn't that what he put his son in the world to do in the first place? Who knows? It might even be what he intended."

Jasmine turned from Alex and looked again at Tom. She saw a man who didn't share her faith, but believed in her values. A man more "Christian" than most she'd met along the way. And then she thought of her goddaughter--a brave, bright kid who deserved every chance.

When she met Tom's blue eyes she knew there was only one choice she could make.

"I think you're wrong," she said. "And I don't think you'll find what you're looking for." Jasmine turned to look at them all gathered around the table: at Jack and Alex and Carter. They were her friends, almost family. She shrugged. "I'll need to sleep on it before I give a final decision, but if everyone else is committed, then you may as well count me in for now."

She tried to match the others' smiles, but deep down inside her she couldn't quell a small dissenting voice that refused to stay quiet.

Tom Carter felt both grateful and relieved as he regarded the others around the table. Just getting this crazy idea off his chest with the people he trusted most had been a release. Over the last few days the idea had been echoing around in his head. And his mood had fluctuated from great confidence that the idea would work, to horror that he was even considering it. As always his father had helped, not just in researching the subject, but in playing the role Olivia had always done: asking him questions and helping order his jumbled thoughts. In the end they had boiled it down to three ifs and a then:

If they could find a sample of Christ's DNA and

If they could find unique genes in his DNA that had healing properties and

If they could exploit these unique genes or their coded proteins

Then they might cure Holly and who knew who else.

It sounded so simple.