CHAPTER 3
As Russo dropped his letters into the mailbox, we shook hands and entered the restaurant. “Good morning, Dr. MacDonald. I’m glad you could make it. I have so many things I want to go over with you,” the priest said through his grinning teeth. I was more than glad to be there. The young Vatican attaché just might be my ticket on the train to science history and to the top of my field. Working for Amrich had been profitable but nothing would compare to finalizing my greatest project—my dream. I knew I’d do anything to make it a reality.
“Father Russo, I could hardly sleep thinking about our conversation yesterday,” I said as I turned and took my seat.
“Good, because I hope what I have to say this morning will stir your scientific mind to a new height, and in turn we can form a union that will bring about peace to this world.” Russo was interrupted by the waiter. He ordered and returned to his conversation. “As I asked yesterday, can you really clone a human being from DNA?”
I’ve always relished any chance to explain my thesis. I talked rapidly and animatedly about my favorite subject, and then summed it up, “In short, Father Russo, it can be done. But it will take a lot of money and I’ll need an outside lab to work in. I’ve got a commitment to Amrich that I can’t break, so this will need to be done in the evenings and weekends.”
“How long?” asked Russo.
“Maybe two or three months. Do you realize it could cost close to two or three million for us to clone just one egg? Then we need to find someone willing to carry it to term,” I stated.
“Those will be my problems. I should have the money in another month. Then we’ll begin,” the priest answered as he sipped his coffee. “Now, I’ve got to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Who have you told about this?”
I twinged and answered, “Only my wife.”
“Good. Keep it that way, because this is totally secret. I want no one to know about your work. Tell your wife nothing else from this point on,” instructed Russo with a hushed, serious tone.
“Okay,” I agreed but somewhere inside me was an unfounded yet nagging suspicion. I looked down at my coffee as if it were more interesting than our conversation, thought for a moment, raised my head and asked, “Are you sure this is on the up and up? Where does the Pope fit into this?”
“The Vatican is totally behind it but they want no one to know. This is far too sensitive an issue. It’s extremely important and we don’t want some kind of public outcry to stop the project before we begin. That can happen, you know. It must be kept secret at all costs. We’ll make the announcement when the time comes.” Russo stared at me intensely.
I was frightened and jokingly said, “It sounds a little more like a “Man From U.N.C.L.E.” TV show than a scientific endeavor."
The priest put down his fork. “Son, your church needs you. We may create the answer to the world’s ills in the next few months. The Pope, the Vatican and the clergy around the world are counting on what you’ll be doing.”
“All my life I’ve wanted to be a good Catholic. I feel as though I have little choice in this matter. If my church needs me, I’ll go through with it, but let me repeat, it will cost a lot,” I stated with emphasis on the cost of the project.
“For a project of this magnitude, money will be no object. We must have it done, and it must be done quickly.” Father Russo unlocked his leather brief case and pulled from its pockets a glass bottle. “This bottle contains the DNA. I’ll turn it over to you when the lab is ready. Now, you need to give me an idea of how much money you would like for doing this.”
I was flip and threw out a figure, “A million.” I thought the amount would show the priest’s cards. It didn’t happen.
“It’s done,” Russo answered.
“That simple, huh?” I was still smiling from my new million dollar salary and jokingly asked the priest, “You’re willing to put all this money up for one experiment. Who is it we’re trying to clone—Jesus?”
Without moving his coffee from his lips, Russo answered, “Yes.”