The Miracle Strain (28 page)

He shrugged. "I'm okay. Let's just say the Preacher didn't plan on me having an easy death."

"So it is definitely the Preacher?"

"Yeah. You've just brought down one of America's most wanted criminals." A note of concern entered his voice. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a bit shaken." She looked down at the figure on the ground. As she studied the masculine profile she thought of the beautiful hologram of the woman she had seen with Special Agent Karen Tanner. This was no longer creepy, it went way beyond that. She looked back to Tom. "I thought he... She had got you for a moment."

"You're not the only one. But I'm--"

The Preacher stirred and blinked open one eye. In that instant Jasmine recognized her from the hologram--the shape and color of that eye were unmistakable.

"Jazz, go to Jack's office and use a cellular to call for help," said Tom. "I'll look after our guest."

She nodded and made her way to the elevator, then heard Tom ask: "What happened to George, and the other guards?"

She turned, not sure how to tell him. "I don't know about the gatehouse."

"But the atrium...?"

She just shook her head. Tom stared at the waking killer. And for the first time since she'd known him, Jazz saw something in those blue eyes that frightened her. At that moment the man who had dedicated himself to saving lives looked capable of taking one.

"Tom? You okay?"

He didn't look at her, just muttered, "Someone once said that revenge was a wild kind of justice resorted to by animals. But that isn't true. Animals feel no need for revenge. Only we do. Now I can see why." He turned and she saw his full pain and rage, and was glad to be on the same side he was.

It wasn't the pain in her head that first intruded on Maria's consciousness, but anger. She had failed, and when she saw the scientist standing over her with her own gun she realized the extent of her failure. Someone must have been behind her when she was aiming at Dr. Carter. Why hadn't she checked the building after killing the guards, and not just relied on the monitors before rushing off to confront the scientist? Her desire to kill him had made her an amateur.

For a moment she considered trying to overcome him, but could see from the look in his eyes that if she so much as moved he would gladly shoot her. She thought about risking it anyway, so great was her shame. She had failed twice--Stockholm and now this. She had failed the Father, the Brotherhood, and worst of all, herself. But then she figured that the longer she survived the more chance she had of putting everything right.

"You're a lucky man, Dr. Carter."

"Yeah, perhaps you weren't meant to kill me after all," he said with no humor.

She smiled. It did appear that the devil was looking out for the scientist, and for reasons she didn't yet understand God was letting him. "God tests us all," she replied, not taking her eyes off his.

"Looks like you failed yours big time. Last chance too. The next time you get a message from your maker, he should be able to give it to you personally."

"It's not over yet," she said.

He laughed at that. A bitter laugh. "It is for you."

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Cave of the Sacred Light

Southern Jordan

Ezekiel looked into the young girl's beautiful eyes. She smiled nervously at him and he returned her smile. "Relax, my child," he whispered as he picked up the ancient dagger with its razorsharp blade. "It will be over soon."

He pulled her right arm toward him, so it lay above the pewter bowl on the altar. With a gentle movement he smoothed the sleeve of her ritual robe up over her elbow, revealing her forearm. Then with great care he traced the tip of the ceremonial blade up and down her flesh, allowing her skin to become sensitized to the steel. He felt her arm stiffen as the cold edge tickled her. He paused for a moment, then with one practiced movement cut into the arm. Her eyes showed pain, but she bit her lip and gave no other sign of her discomfort. When the threadlike crimson incision was three inches long, he removed the blade and bisected the wound with a horizontal cut, forming a cross. When the second incision was complete he replaced the dagger on the table by the pewter bowl. Then he twisted her forearm, pointing the cut downward. Gently he kneaded the flesh of her arm until the blood dripped into the bowl. He counted eight precious claret-red drops before the blood began to clot. It was enough.

He dipped the forefinger of his left hand in the ruby liquid, then painted a red cross on her smooth forehead.

"Your blood is his blood," he said solemnly. "Your body is his body."

Her voice trembled with passion. "I give him my flesh, so he may save my soul."

He nodded encouragement. "May he be saved."

More relaxed now, she smiled back at him. "So he may save the righteous." Brother Haddad, the initiate's Regional Head of the Holy Lands, wiped her cruciform cut with the scarring ointment, and the newest member of the Brotherhood turned away to resume her seat.

The cavern reverberated with a collective sigh of relief, both from the other nineteen initiates around the vast table and those at the back who had come to witness the ceremony. The first of the bloodings was always the most nerve-racking.

Ezekiel greeted the next initiate into the Brotherhood, a young man from Jerusalem, asking him to extend his arm over the bowl. As Ezekiel blooded him, he thought how fine the collection of twelve men and eight women looked in their white robes. Good stock to take the Brotherhood into the future. Most were children of current Brothers, or close friends monitored from childhood. About twenty of these relations stood witnessing the ceremony and no doubt remembering the day when they themselves had been initiated.

As the third initiate rose from the table, stepped forward, and extended her arm, Ezekiel De La Croix recalled how at eighteen his father had taken him here from their home in Damascus. He remembered the burden of expectation his father, a member of the Inner Circle, had placed on his shoulders. Even then Ezekiel was being groomed for the day when he would one day become Leader.

At that time only men could fully join the Brotherhood, but the blooding ceremonies had still been larger affairs, with sixty or more initiates attending. The young today had lost their dedication and discipline. Fewer and fewer could be trusted to devote themselves completely to the Brotherhood.

Still, he had just spent the last two hours explaining the laws of the Brotherhood, reminding the initiates of the sect's history and its Primary Imperative. They had also been told of their individual responsibilities; how each one of them would be expected to reach a suitable level of attainment in their chosen field to best serve the organization. They knew that there were Brothers and Sisters already placed at senior levels in the world's major churches, banks, hospitals, armed forces, police forces, and media organizations. All watching and waiting, ready to answer the call from the Brotherhood and ultimately their Messiah at a moment's notice.

The one practice Ezekiel and the others of the Inner Circle had not shared with them was the Second Imperative. That was only revealed to the six members of the Inner Circle and the two operatives.

The girl who now stood in front of Ezekiel reminded him of the young Maria Benariac, the daughter he had never had. He had known Maria was special from the very first time he'd seen those bewitching eyes. Even when the vindictive Mother Clemenza had told him about Maria's childhood lies, he had only become more convinced that Maria was in some way chosen. These claims of hers, made when she wasn't yet eight, may have been the fantasies of a lonely child. Even the older Maria had dismissed them as such, saying she couldn't remember them. But at least these "lies," incredible for one so young, had shown her vision and imagination.

Ezekiel cut the flesh of the girl in front of him and watched dispassionately as she squeezed back tears. Maria hadn't even blinked at her blooding, just beamed at him with unrestrained pride as the blade sliced across her arm. He regretted their argument now. He'd known she would overreact when she heard about the deal with Carter. But he was surprised that Maria had ignored Brother Bernard's subsequent messages. That was unlike her.

Ezekiel reassured himself that despite her passionate views she was ultimately loyal to him and the Brotherhood. He felt sure she would contact him soon, and then he and Bernard would decide what to do with her.

Ezekiel turned his mind to Dr. Carter as he prepared the next initiate, a young man from Beirut. All the Inner Circle had been excited when the scientist had returned the samples and told them about the three rare genes. Now they just had to wait until he contacted them again with progress on finding the match. According to Helix, if it existed on any of the DNA databases they should know within weeks, perhaps even days. Ezekiel felt a surge of excitement so strong that he had to steady his hand as he cut into the young man's arm.

The rest of the bloodings took the best part of an hour. And throughout the ceremony he allowed himself to bask in the warm possibility, even probability, that they were close now--close to the realization of the prophecy and the fulfillment of all his obligations and responsibilities.

It wasn't until he delivered his concluding speech that he noticed Bernard gesturing from the back. He saw Helix beckoning him also and his excitement bubbled over. They must have news. He quickly finished the address and handed the proceedings over to Brother Haddad.

Next door, in one of the adjoining caves, he huddled in a quiet corner with the two senior Brothers.

"So, have we news from Carter?" he asked. "Has he found the Messiah?"

Bernard cast a worried look at Helix, then looked down at his shoes. "No, Father. Not exactly. The news relates more to Nemesis."

"Maria? You have found her? Where is she?"

"We didn't find her," said Bernard quietly. "The FBI did."

"What?" Ezekiel's warm glow left him.

Helix said, "According to our sources, it appears she tried to kill the scientist. But one of his colleagues stopped her. Maria is now under arrest."

"Under arrest?"

"She has been unmasked as the Preacher," continued Helix. "And because of the overwhelming evidence against her, she will go on fast-track trial within weeks, even days. If she's found guilty, which she undoubtedly will be, she'll be executed shortly after."

"The question is, what do we do about her?" said Bernard.

Helix paused. "Can she be trusted not to betray us? Or do we need to silence her?"

"Of course she won't betray us," retorted Bernard. "We trained her. Whatever her failings, betrayal isn't one of them."

"I agree," said Ezekiel.

An embarrassed cough from Helix. "With all due respect, Father, you were wrong about her defying you and going after the scientist."

Ezekiel De La Croix turned to his Champion of the First Imperative. "Brother Helix, you do not know Maria. She defied us because she believed in what she had to do. She is perhaps too zealous, even dogmatic. But the last thing she will do is betray us to the authorities. She will stay loyal to us and take her punishment."

Helix shrugged. "So we can forget about Maria? And concentrate on Dr. Carter?"

Ezekiel didn't like the way the two imperatives had now clashed. He felt personal regret about Maria, but more important the Brotherhood had lost their most effective operative. At least Carter hadn't been killed, because then both imperatives would have been compromised. He nodded at Helix. "Yes, we shall have to leave Maria to the U. S. justice system, and concentrate on Carter. But if he doesn't deliver us a match, then I will personally see to it that Gomorrah finishes him. And everyone else involved in this Project Cana."

GENIUS Hospital Suite, Four days later

Four days later Tom was in a good mood as he stood in the GENIUS Hospital Suite with the patient's file notes open in front of him. Even the pain in his bandaged hand seemed bearable. According to what Karen Tanner had told him yesterday, with the evidence the FBI had on the Preacher she would be making her last sermon in a matter of months--to the state executioner.

Events finally seemed to be going his way. His wife's killer brought to justice. A match on the database. Just reading the file on Al Puyiana, the Indian who shared Christ's genes, had given him a boost. The dead man's DNA might be no more use than the original Nazareth genes, but at least the evidence suggested he could heal. All this added weight and reason to his wild goose chase. And on top of everything, Hank Polanski looked as if he was getting better.

"Well, Doc?" asked the young man, sitting upright in his bed. "How am I doing?"

Hank was a completely different person from the pallid, sunken-eyed patient who had started his gene therapy treatment only a few months ago. Nurse Lawrence stood beside him checking the intravenous drip going into his arm. The drip was coming from a bag of red liquid suspended from a stand next to the bed.

"Looking good, Hank," said Tom eventually.

"Yeah, I feel a heap better."

Tom smiled as he read the file. Things were going well. He pulled out an X ray and showed it to Hank. "The primary tumors in your lungs have stopped growing and are even beginning to reduce. Your three secondaries have all died."

"So the fifteen percent long shot paid off?"

"So far, Hank. But we've still got to monitor you closely. You won't get the all-clear for years. But things are definitely improving."

Hank laughed. "No kidding. I'm still alive, aren't I? I'd call that a definite improvement."

Tom smiled, but said no more. Hank was no longer at death's door, but he wasn't out of the waiting room yet. Even though the odds had shifted significantly in favor of the young man's survival. Tom said good-bye to Hank and walked back down the ward. As he checked on the other patients he thought of Project Cana and allowed himself a rare, giddying fantasy. If they could get the genes to work, then perhaps they could save every Hank Polanski and Holly in the world. He turned to the other beds and imag ined all their occupants well again. He pictured this ward closing down, simply because there were no more patients.

If only Jasmine could identify the name behind the match she had found in the Black Hole. He wished that the match from the Paris database carried an identifying name or title, not just the coded index number: #6699784. He also wished Jasmine had been able to copy the whole genome, and not just the sequence matching the Nazareth genes. They could then have used the Gene Genie to establish the individual's appearance.

Still, at least he knew a living match existed, and on what database. It should now only be a matter of time before Jasmine wheedled her way back into the Black Hole, and found the name behind the coded number. The name of the Brotherhood's and Holly's savior.

"Tom?"

He turned to see Alex walking toward him. Suddenly he wasn't in such a good mood anymore. Before his father said another word Tom knew his news. Alex had taken Holly for her brain scans at Massachusetts General today. And it was plain from his drawn look that the scans had been positive. Even though Tom had known DAN's prophecy would come true, its accuracy still shocked him now that it had become a physical reality.

That night Holly read the newspaper reports of the Preacher's capture, telling Tom how awesome it was that her dad and godmother were heroes. It was then, almost in passing, that she mentioned her headaches and dizziness for the first time. She told him how although she'd stopped playing with her computer, they still wouldn't go away. He listened to her, saying nothing, then gave her two painkillers.