Chapter 13
The next day, I was awakened very early by a call. “Matthew?” the voice said.
“Yeah, who is this?” I snapped groggily into the receiver.
“Laura from Prophet Thompson’s office.”
“Oh, hi Laura. I’m sorry I was a little short with you. What time is it?” I apologized. Laura had continued to be a friend to the family even after my tensions with her boss and Russo began. “What can I do for you? I hope this isn’t a call just to chat because I’ll most likely fall asleep on you.”
Beth was stirring next to me. The phone had brought her around to the living. She groaned out, “Who is it, Matt?”
“Laura from Thompson’s office,” I whispered with my hand over the phone.
Laura was starting to talk rapidly. “Did you hear the news? I personally couldn’t believe it. What do you think it means? Tom told me yesterday that the clone was meeting with the Pope last night.”
“Hold it. I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were out last night and obviously we were asleep until your call. What is it that is so important that you called us so early?”
“The Pope had a stroke last night and is now a contorted vegetable.”
“What?” I said loudly as I dropped the phone.
Beth was up on her elbow looking at me. “Matthew, what’s going on?”
I tried to quiet her but she was more insistent. “Tell me, please.”
“Hold for a second, Laura,” I said into the receiver as I turned my upper body to Beth. “The Pope had a serious stroke last night.”
Beth didn't seem concerned.
“Beth, that’s not all. The clone was the last one with him.” This caused her to sit straight up. “Laura, what else do you know?” I asked.
“Not much more than that. No reports of mysterious drugs. The doctors surmised it was a stroke but Maria told me it didn’t look that way to her,” Laura repeated back.
Maria spent the early years of Jesus’ life with him. Once he was old enough and her usefulness had waned, Russo dismissed her. The Pontiff had put her out of the Convent when the clone was born. She stayed on at the training center. Then, as suddenly as a change in the wind, she was out. The Pope was troubled both by his own actions and then Father Russo’s. He had asked her to come work at the Vatican. It hadn’t taken long before she was allowed to put on the nun’s habit again.
“What did she think happened?” I asked Laura.
“She said the Pope's face was contorting like he was battling an unseen force. The Pope looked like he’d been fighting all night,” Laura said anxiously.
“That’s interesting,” I told her.
“There’s one thing more. Tom told me that Jesus is going to speak to the Cardinals and ask them to name Russo the new Pope once the inevitable happens. Can you believe that? Johnny Russo could be the next Pope.”
That news tied my stomach in knots. Nothing would or could stop them now. Step by step I could see their plan building on the previous blocks. Thompson was more powerful than ever. His television shows were more like prime time specials. The Prophet had seen the future of cable and the internet then expanded into every area possible including his own social media network and JesusTube. You couldn’t turn on the TV without some message from Thompson being on a channel.
Jesus had become the Prince of Peace. The new EU under his influence would bring economic and political power to the three of them.
I thought then, “If Russo became the Pope then nothing could stop them. Absolutely nothing. They had brought together the religious, economic and political power that was great enough to control the world.
That afternoon I was running errands. I had just been inside my cleaners and as I exited a figure slid in close to me whispering, “Come with me. Don't argue. There's a gun in your side.” As he said it, my assailant jammed the barrel of a pistol into my kidney. I didn’t like it but then again, I wasn’t asked if I liked it or even wanted to obey.
My captor led me around to the side of the building along a walkway until we came to a row of automobiles. We approached a black luxury car and it’s back door flew open. At the same time my captors hands pressed down on the back of my head while his other hand shoved me into the car. I stumbled in and dropped at black, wingtipped feet. I looked up. It was him.
“Dr. MacDonald, I’m sorry to have to do this to you,” the hard faced man said.
“All this because I spilled a drink on you?” I asked half joking and half wondering.
“No, no. That isn’t it. I didn’t want anyone to know that we were meeting. My name is Jack Hesidence and Doctor, I need your help,” he said.
He helped me climb into the seat opposite him in the limousine. “Could you explain yourself a little better? I’m very confused as to why the Director of the C.I.A. would want or need my help.”
Hesidence gave me a startled look that I knew who he was. “Since the birth of Jesus, I’ve followed his career. I know where he goes, why he’s there and Dr. MacDonald, I also have had agents tracking you as well,” Hesidence told me.
“Why me? What did I do?”
“You made him, doctor. You’re the man responsible for bringing him to life.”
“You say that like I’m Dr. Frankenstein or something,” I shot back at him angrily.
“If the shoe fits,” he answered.
“Enough of this bantering. What do you want from me?” I insisted.
“We believe that your clone is trying to subvert the world’s governments through economics and religion. And by the way, our government leaders aren’t the only ones who think so. You might find this hard to believe but the Russians are scared crapless over this thing. They’ve got enough problems with their economy. Your messiah clone is squeezing their throats so tight their eyes are popping. Everything that we observe leads us to believe that but we don’t have anyone on the inside. We need someone that can get us information before Jesus makes any further moves,” he said.
“I don’t know anything that’s going on. I just made the egg and then do periodic check-ups. I’m afraid that I can’t help you. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to get back to my house,” I told Hesidence.
He reached over and opened the door for me. As I slid on the seat towards the door, the Director touched my arm and said, “Please, Dr. MacDonald. I believe that your creation will lead us into a world war. One that could destroy us all. Please, consider what I’ve said. We’ll be in touch.”
I stepped out of the car and walked to the front of the building, got in my car and headed home. Beth was standing in the kitchen over a mixing bowl when I strolled in. “You won’t believe this but I think I was just approached to be a spy.”
“MacDonald, Matthew MacDonald, double ‘O’ geneticist with a license to clone,” she joked. “Now, tell me the real reason you were late for dinner?”