

The Last Generation

Guy Singer

Published by Guy Singer at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Guy Singer

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Where locations are stated, this work does not infer any connection between the inhabitants of that location, past or present and the events mentioned in this book.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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THE LAST GENERATION

CONTENTS

PART 1 - TOM

Chapter 1 - Seattle

Chapter 2 - Portland

Chapter 3 - Gethsemane

Chapter 4 - The Last Supper

Chapter 5 - The Last Night

Chapter 6 - The Denial

Chapter 7 - The Crucifixion

PART 2 - JOE

Chapter 8 - The Doctor

Chapter 9 - The Second Coming

Chapter 10 - Echmoth

Chapter 11 - The Late Show

Chapter 12 - Gone walkabout

Chapter 13 - A Commercial Break

Chapter 14 - The Pope

PART 3 - MIKE

Chapter 15 - Deaths in the family

Chapter 16 - The Isle of Ponza

Chapter 17 - Law and Order

Chapter 18 - Santa Fe

Chapter 19 - Philip

Chapter 20 - The Conclave

Chapter 21 - The Last Generation

# PART 1 \- TOM

## Chapter 1 - Seattle

The phone rang insistently; this was the fifth time in ten minutes. Professor Tom Jackson stroked his luxuriant, grey beard and decided he could no longer ignore it. He picked up the handset, ready to put it straight down again if it was the expected wrong number or double glazing salesman. He hated calls disturbing his Sunday evening.

"Hello, is that Professor Jackson?"

Tom was in his mid 70s and guarded his privacy jealously. No one should have his home number.

"Where did you find my number from and why are you calling me now?"

"I have a proposal for you. You are the world's foremost expert on biblical Western Aramaic?" That was a statement as much as a question.

Tom waited. The caller hadn't answered his own question. Now Tom wanted to see where this call headed. The reference, to biblical Aramaic, tweaked his interest. Scholarly circles cited him frequently as an expert biblical researcher, and along with Western Aramaic, he also spoke ancient Hebrew, koine Greek and Latin. His grasp of ancient languages was the best.

After a long pause he replied, "Carry on"

"Can we meet somewhere?"

Tom considered that question. "Maybe" came the reply after a few seconds. "But before I agree, tell me why you want to meet? What's the purpose?"

The caller replied, "I want to rescue Jesus."

Tom slammed the phone down, 'another crank,' he thought. He took the handset off its rest and settled down for the evening.

The following morning, Tom woke slowly. As he grew older, he found it harder to get up and today he lacked any motivation to open his eyes. Eventually he got out of bed and shivered. He didn't believe in using his old central heating and reluctantly admitted he found it hard to afford. He looked out of the window of his old house in the suburb of Kirkland, Seattle and sniffed when he saw the frost on the ground. It was unseasonably cold. He guessed instead of the expected 50 degrees for an early March morning, it was probably only a little above freezing.

'Another example of climate change,' thought Tom. 'I wouldn't be surprised if Lake Washington freezes next winter.'

His morning preparations were meticulous. He followed the usual bathroom activities with some quiet time for meditation. He didn't pray, as he was not a follower now of any specific religion, but he did like to spend 15 minutes in quiet thought. He sat down in the battered old armchair in his bedroom and closed his eyes. He put his chin on the end of his fingers and let his mind go. Today his thoughts kept wandering, irrationally as his meditational skills were strong. The memory of the phone call went through his mind. How did the crank find his number? He couldn't persuade his reflections to settle, so after a few minutes he just gave up.

He dressed slowly. He always wore the same clothes, a dark grey suit, immaculately tailored, and a clean, freshly ironed, white shirt. He never wore a tie. His Jewish roots were still strong, more than 60 years since he last attended the synagogue. However, if the outwards signs pointed towards Israel, inwardly he had a very open mind. As the years had passed, he wore more and more of the trappings of his past religion, but in his head he became more and more open to other views. He finished his dressing and walked into the kitchen. His parents built the old house in the early 1950s. It was at this point they stopped, as a family, attending the synagogue. His father tried to convert the family away from Judaism while his mother's faith remained strong. This conflict appeared, to him, to be the source of the frequent arguments between his parents. His father told him the neighbors weren't too happy about having a family of Jews in the area, and he hid his roots from his new friends at junior high. His name was Judas Tomas before the move. His father had his name changed to a simple Tom. Slowly though, he became unpopular and none of his peers would go into their house. He lost emotional contact with his brothers. Before the move to Seattle Mikael who was 7 years younger than Tom and Joel who was 8 years younger, both shared a room with him. The three of them played together all the time in their old home despite the difference in age. After the move, their new names were Mike and Joe. He didn't see them in the daytime as they went to a different grade school and they had their own room in the house. He was jealous with the ease they made their own friends.

Thus, he began his solitary life. He started to adopt some of the outward signs of his old faith, and wear their trappings because it reminded him of when he had grown up in the blossoming state of Israel. He never understood why they had left and moved to Washington. His father died when Tom was 24, and by that time, Tom was virtually isolated from the rest of the family. He didn't even go to his father's funeral. Within two years of this, both his brothers left home and he remained to care for his mother. A deep family secret existed that kept his heart empty. He looked after his mother, until she died peacefully in her sleep 15 years ago. They didn't talk about their past. It was too painful. Now he still lived in the same 3-bedroom house, even though it was far too big for him, and was over 60 years old now. It was a reminder of the past he could never forget. He converted his brothers' bedroom into an office. He kept his mother's room for guests (who never came) and he still slept in the same single bed in the same room he occupied as a child.

His breakfast was meager. He was not a wealthy man, and partly because of this, partly out of habit, he ate frugally. His normal first meal was a single bagel and coffee, and today he kept the custom. He washed the dishes and set them to dry. As he prepared to leave the house, he performed his usual pocket check. He touched his glasses, keys, wallet, but he felt something was missing - his crucifix - a small wooden cross that lived in his pocket more as a good luck charm rather than a religious talisman. He reached into the drawer of the table beside the front door and pulled it out. His father gave it to him when they first came to Seattle, and he carried it ever since. This was his last reminder of his father. Finally, he donned the dark grey overcoat and fedora from the peg in the hall, closed and double locked the front door behind him.

His mind started to wander. He was prone to have occasional daydreams and blackouts. These grew more frequent as he aged and during them, he would often see glimpses of a possible future. In a sudden flash, he saw the house empty and decaying. The front lawn was overgrown and the garden in disarray. A shudder ran through his body as he felt he would not come back. 'I wonder where that idea came from,' he thought.

Sitting on the front doorstep of the house was a small package.

"That's odd," he said to himself. "It's far too early for the mail carrier."

He picked it up cautiously. It was about 12 inches on each side and was very light. He scooped it up and put it onto the passenger seat of his car. He was now ashamed of his red 2003 Chevy Corvette. When he bought it, it was one of his few 'luxuries'. He used his entire 'golden handshake' to make the purchase. Now he regretted the waste of money. He had little enough to live on. At the time, he lacked very little. Now he was frequently cold at home. He bought the sports car, which he knew, for a man of 65, was extravagant. He'd never owned a car like this before. He thought that by buying it, his life would change. He wanted a new start on his 65th birthday. He wanted to break out from the mould of Professor, of reluctant Jew, and of lonely old man. However, after a very short time, he realized nothing changed, and all he owned was a bright red reminder that he was alone. He still occasionally drew looks from the young girls in their own convertibles at the traffic lights, but as soon as they saw him driving, they looked away. He turned the key to start the car and it spluttered in the cold. He wondered if the battery could run down while the car sat unused over the weekend. Finally, he coaxed it into life and he set off down the suburban road to the University of Washington.

His mind wandered again. He was sitting inside a rock house. He felt comfortable, warm and happy. Outside the rock, he could see grass peppered with spring flowers. Friends sat around him. They all smiled at him and asked him questions. Two little girls danced on the grass outside. He saw a man in the distance. He was coming over to him. He couldn't help looking at his bright blue eyes -

There was a loud blast from a car horn.

"Curses," mumbled Tom, as he looked up at the red light and saw it was green. "They always interrupt the daydream at the good part. At least I stopped at the green light and didn't just drive through a red."

He waved out the car window in a friendly way at the man behind him. The man merely blasted his horn again.

The College of Arts and Sciences at the University was set out in its own huge campus. The Near Eastern Languages and Civilization Department was in Denny Hall, a four-storey building with gothic touches. It shared this home with the department of Anthropology. Professor Jackson used to be head of the Department. After his retirement, he became a Professor Emeritus. The car park lay almost half a mile from the department and Tom's office was at the back of the building on the fourth floor. As he locked the car, he remembered the man at the red light. He dreaded the day when someone would tell him not to bother coming in any more. His Corvette would stay parked in its garage. He shuffled dejectedly along the pathways and through the corridors and arrived at his office. He unlocked the door, and went in.

Although now retired, he enjoyed the company of students. They made him feel young, and occasionally one would ask him to translate a biblical text. He was still useful and that gave him purpose. It was a small point but it showed him he was not alone. He held his insecurities at bay. However, the times students consulted him were becoming fewer and his zest for life was fading with it.

He looked round the small, cramped space and glanced at the bookshelves along the back wall. He knew their contents by heart and could reach immediately for any when he needed it. His eyes wandered over the Torah, the Bible and the Koran, and he scanned the tracts and discussion books on each of them. Today he barely glanced at the books on the modern conspiracy theories. He noticed one of the Dan Brown books in the wrong place. He moved it where it should be, next to the book on the Priory of Zion. He wondered if anyone else could find anything in the unsorted and un-catalogued mess, but then he knew no one else would ever bother to look through the shelves at all. His eyes flicked over the books on the Dead Sea Scrolls and stopped at one of his fourteen copies of books written about the Gospel according to Thomas. He pulled this off the shelf and put it on his desk to read. He liked the writings of this man. Maybe because this man had been his namesake he admired him. Maybe because he recognized a kindred spirit he read his gospel repeatedly. Maybe because this particular Gospel didn't refer to the life of Jesus, just his parables and sayings, he related to it. He knew the style of writing as if he penned the words himself. He studied this man and read everything that ancient authors wrote about him. He read the 114 sayings of Jesus it contained in the text dozens of times. He thought it was one of the oldest of the documents reputedly quoting Jesus, and that was another reason why it always attracted special attention from him.

As Tom sat down at his desk and picked up the book, he banged his chair against the bookshelves behind him. He couldn't avoid that and he cursed the small space allocated to him for an office since he retired. At least he did have a permanent office. Professor Hugh Jones, who retired about the same time as him, heard from the new Head of Department that his services were redundant. Tom was grateful he still had a place to go, a place to feel wanted. He read the introduction to the Gospel, which he knew by heart.

"These are the hidden words which Jesus the Living spoke, and which Didymus Judas Thomas wrote down, and he said this: Whoever discovers the meaning of these words will not taste death!"

He liked the name. He always smiled when he thought of the redundancy as both Didymus in Greek and Thomas in Aramaic both meant twin. He loved the coincidence that his own former name was Judas, so he started to use it as a middle name. The nameplate on his desk read "Thomas Judas Jackson." He didn't have a twin though. His two brothers were much younger than he was. He tried in vain to think how old they would be now, but it was over 40 years since he contacted either of them. He slumped down in his chair and wondered what the day might bring.

He was unsure how long he could continue to drive with these blanks in his memory coming more and more frequently. He started daydreaming and in his mind, he saw the car parked up. He knew it was permanent, but it was not in its garage, it was in the university parking lot. In the daydream, there was a package on the back seat of the car. He picked up the box and looked inside it; he saw an envelope; saw a phone number; and saw himself in a hot and dusty town. The town had many people and many twisting winding alleys. There was a hill -

His head nodded forward as he started to fall asleep and he jerked it back with a shudder. His attention focused back to the package on his desk, not in the car. He saw it was obviously hand delivered, as there were no UPS marks or other shipping stamps on the outside. It was about a foot cubed and covered in brown paper. He lifted it up and noted it was very light, suggesting to him that there wasn't much inside it. He looked at the sisal string around it; at the ends was a wax seal. The picture on the seal attracted his attention, and he studied it for a long time. It was very simple, consisting merely of two intersecting arcs. Together they formed a stylized fish.

'Ikhthus' thought the Professor, the sign of the fish. Well they certainly know how to draw my attention.

He said to himself the words that made up the acronym for 'Ikhthus' - "Iesous Christos, Theou Yios, Soter" - Jesus Christ, God's Son, Savior. He knew it was the sign that marked the meeting places for early, persecuted Christians. He wondered what might be inside. His mind went off on another stream of tangents and dreams, and he again saw himself in the hot and dusty town. There were people everywhere and it was busy. He was in a market and he saw a crowd around him. They were calling him 'Master' and 'Lord'. He saw the hill in the background again. On the top was a cross - no there were three crosses. His daydream took him to the right hand cross. He recognized the man nailed to it. Himself. He came to with a jump, and shook off this last shocking memory.

He cut the string and left the seal intact. He opened the brown paper carefully and then the top of the box, which was not taped shut. The box contained an envelope, just as he imagined. It was cream in color, and fastened loosely to the bottom of the box. Tom took it out and opened it. Inside was one sheet of notepaper and he read the typewritten words: 'Are you curious now?' and a phone number.

He recognized it immediately as the one on his caller ID from last night. The last three digits were 888. He thought again, this is the number of Christ. One of his books told the reason but he couldn't remember which book or why. He paid little attention to these sorts of theories and the fact the caller used this number trivialized the potential new relationship. He smiled at the steps these people took to secure his attention. Yet, he wanted to know more. His mind wandered over to books covering the subject of Jesus' bloodline, conspiracy theories, Papal sects - he knew this would merely be another one. Nevertheless, as the letter implied, it aroused his curiosity.

He picked up the ancient telephone on his desk and dialed the number.

The voice at the other end of the phone merely said, "I knew you'd call."

Tom remained silent.

"Would you like to meet me? It would be easier to explain everything face to face."

"OK," said Tom, "where and when?"

With that, there was a brief knock on the door and it opened to reveal a beaming man.

"Hi, I'm Phil" he said. "And you can put the phone down now."

Phil Baxendale was a slim man who just turned 45. He was dressed casually, in a check shirt and designer jeans. He was well groomed, clean-shaven and wore small metal-rimmed glasses, which gave him an air of distinction. He was a man with an enthralling past. He came from Boston, and was the only child of an extremely wealthy industrialist. As a child, he traveled the world. At first, he journeyed with his parents, but from the age of 16, he enjoyed touring alone. His love of travel fuelled a fascination with foreign languages. He had a keen mind and a flare for learning. He went to Harvard and studied at their Faculty of Arts and Science in the language lab. His father made a fortune by building up a steel company. When both his parents died suddenly, just after his 21st birthday, he inherited their entire wealth estimated at the time at nine billion dollars. He continued his study after the tragic loss. He acquired a working knowledge of more than a dozen languages and was fluent in about half of them. He was not an overtly flamboyant man. He did have his luxuries, which he loved, but he preferred generally to keep his wealth discrete. He had enough money to live an extremely comfortable life and would never need to work. Yet he was not a lazy man, and devoted himself to interesting projects. For most of his twenties, he toured foreign countries. He spent an entire year in Israel and committed much of his time there to studying the records of the city. The Temple of Solomon fascinated him. He published several papers on its history and investigated its mysteries. He never married nor took a partner, as he preferred to spend all his time travelling and working. He was a dedicated man and when he decided to take on a project, he put 110% of his energy into it. His current mission concerned Jesus. He was gifted, lead a fast and furious lifestyle, and now he was standing in front of Tom. The contrast between the two men could not have been more extreme. The only common facet of their character was they both led solitary lives. Phil reveled in living alone. It gave him the freedom to do what he wanted. Tom hated his lonesome existence. It created the bars that held him in his self-imposed prison.

Tom looked at the man and instantly felt jealous. He noticed the way other people dressed and envied people who showed good style and fashion sense. He lacked these social skills along with many others. He didn't expect the meeting would last long.

"You're a very hard man to talk to, please forgive my intrigue" started Phil.

Tom took his normal pensive attitude and said nothing. One hand slipped towards the security button on the back of his desk. After a recent spate of violence in Universities, the Dean insisted on fitting these. Despite decrying the idea at the time, Tom was glad of the option of using it today.

"Will you at least give me five minutes before you call security?"

Observant, reflected the older man. He remained silent and removed his hand from behind the desk, pressing his hands together and resting his chin on his outstretched fingers.

"I told you on the phone I wanted to rescue Jesus. I expect you thought I was talking about the bloodline, or thaw him from an ice block, or that I found his tomb or something like that. No actually, my plan is far more unlikely and that's why you have to promise to give me 5 minutes before you throw me out. If I haven't convinced you by then, I'll leave and not contact you again."

Given the assurance that the man would leave of his own free will, and thinking that he just, by the slimmest chance, might have an idea worth listening to, Tom nodded his consent. He still hadn't said a word though.

By the end of five minutes, Tom understood exactly why Phil set up this charade. He started to understand the character of the man and warmed to him a little emotionally. To Tom, Phil now appeared honest, forthright and intensely passionate about his project. Either Phil was the most insightful man on Earth, or he was completely insane. Tom initially put the odds about 99 to 1 in favor of insanity. After 5 minutes, these odds changed to 70/30 in favor of insight.

Phil spoke at length. With earnestness and a sense of urgency that gripped Tom, he spoke of his family wealth, his privileged upbringing and his luck at college. He told Tom about his training in languages, his friendship with some of the best scientists and the flash of inspiration of a brilliant friend that enabled the building of the machine. He spoke of the founding of the top-secret private research institute outside Portland. He went on to describe how William brought him on board to fund the venture. He described in detail the project they completed in the newly built Smith Baxendale Institute. He mentioned time travel. He told Tom about his plan to go back and persuade Jesus to leave Galilee before the crucifixion. He seemed convinced of his facts. He said the machine they built could only go back a fixed number of days. It was around 2,000 years, but it was a fixed period and this configuration of machine could not change that. Then he said he had already been back once and it was then Phil realized he had a problem. Time travel was the thing that made Tom wince. Phil produced a document from his briefcase, made from parchment with many wax seals hanging from it. He told Tom he would explain how he obtained it later, but he assured him it was genuine.

Tom read the words, which were in ancient Latin. He could not believe what he saw. It was a warrant for the execution of a man. He read the name on it, IESUS, and the single word next to it, MESSIAS. He looked at the name written at the end of it. PONTIUS PILATUS PRAEFECTUS PROVINCIAE JUDAEAE. Tom knew him as Pontius Pilate, Prefect, Governor of the Province of Judea. Tom easily understood the ancient Latin writings, but when he looked at the parchment itself, it appeared new. Tom had seen forged documents in the past, but oddly, these were brass. He knew intuitively that he was holding in his hands the actual death warrant of Jesus. Phil said he went back the 2,000 years two days previously and he returned with this document. Now Phil was telling him he wanted to go back again and return with Jesus. Phil carried on talking, but Tom was barely listening. His mind was already back in the past, searching for answers.

Phil's story captured Tom's imagination from that moment on. He could think of many ways of creating just such a document, and this one looked new. From his studies over the decades, Tom knew Jesus actually lived, and he knew Jesus was the Messiah in the eyes of many people. He now thought that it was possible, just barely, this would be his chance to meet the man himself.

He nodded acknowledgement all the time Phil had been speaking, but barely said a word since he came in. Finally, he broke his silence.

"Why tell all this to me?" he asked.

"I wondered when you'd ask me that," replied Phil excitedly. "I told you I've been back already and it dawned on me only then, that I could not speak Western Aramaic. I'm proficient in ancient Greek and speak Hebrew, but not a word of Aramaic. We knew I would be going back to Jerusalem and roughly somewhere in the first century. I did not know the exact time I'd arrive. Imagine my shock when I landed on the day Jesus cleared the moneychangers from the temple. Then I did something wrong, terribly wrong. I need to go back and put it right." He paused and blushed. Tom sensed this was not easy for him.

"Consider the most blindingly obvious fact," he continued. "If you Google 'What language did Jesus speak' and you ignore the cranks who say 'Klingon' and the others who say 'nothing as Jesus didn't exist', the answer is Judean or Western Aramaic. I can't communicate with the man. When I return to the past, I'll meet Jesus and, I need to talk to him in Aramaic to convince him to come with me. I can't take a chance he will speak anything else, and I only have one shot at meeting him. Although I'm very good at languages, I can't learn it in one day. I have been told that you speak it fluently and so -" he paused to clear his throat "I'd like to invite you to come back in time with me and meet the Messiah himself."

Tom didn't say a word for what seemed many minutes. A million thoughts whizzed through his mind. He knew it would be his chance to meet the son of God. He could actually talk to the man who became the central pillar of a religion. He knew this was what his years of study had really been for after all. His life did have a purpose.

Making one of the quickest decisions of his life he replied, "OK, when do we go?"

"Because the machine can only go back a fixed number of days, it has to be this afternoon. They will have the Last Supper later today and the Crucifixion will be tomorrow."

With that, the two men walked out the Campus together.

## Chapter 2 - Portland

In contrast to Tom's Corvette, Phil's Dodge Viper was new. It was also very, very expensive and very, very fast. It was one of Phil's few overtly ostentatious possessions. Tom rarely broke the speed limit in his car. Phil didn't simply break it either; he destroyed it. They drove the 180 miles at breakneck speed, clearing the distance in 90 minutes. Phil talked almost constantly through the journey. For once in his restrained life, Tom was feeling excited. The more Phil talked the more Tom believed what he was saying was possible.

Tom's initial jealousy towards Phil waned. He started to admire him. It was obvious Phil was extremely rich. Tom didn't know, but the Dodge Viper was the extremely rare Viper SRT10 "Final Edition" model with only 50 made. It was graphite grey in color with a black center stripe traced in red. It boasted a staggeringly large 8-liter engine and a top speed of 202 miles per hour.

Phil broke 180 M.P.H. once on the journey from Seattle to Portland. He drove hard and fast and knew how to handle the car. At just over $100,000, it was hardly a toy. Outwardly, that was a rare extravagance. He preferred to live a comfortable life, and put the rest of his fortune towards the time travel research. This was his current project and he put all his energy and considerable resources into it. He was single-minded when he had a project and the possibilities of time travel now formed his all-embracing passion. He wasn't married and had no siblings. If anything happened to him, his entire fortune, currently valued at seven billion dollars would go to his work colleagues in equal shares. They didn't know this of course. He wanted it to be a surprise. All he told them was that in the event of his death the Institute would still receive funds from his Trust. As things currently stood, each of the three remaining partners would inherit just over two billion dollars.

There was plenty of time for Phil to talk to Tom on the journey.

"The theory came to a colleague of mine, William Smith, one night in a blinding flash," he said. "He thought if he blended the constant universal flux with transient time strings, he could in effect bend time. He said an object in the flux beam would travel down a transient time string and end up in the past."

Tom stopped him. "I'm sorry but you're losing me. Don't feel you have to treat me as a first-grade student. I'll just accept the technical bits."

Phil smiled and continued with his tale. "With the help of scientists around him and a lot of my money, William founded the Institute four years ago. He called it the Smith Baxendale Institute after our two surnames. He made sure it wasn't listed anywhere and our drive for research in secret started. We employed a resource manager to arrange delivery of anything we needed at a secluded drop-off point. Our own transport collected it from there. She turned out to be brilliant and frequently had the part already in stock before we requisitioned it. We had an amazing young technician from England, who could manufacture any part, mechanical or electronic that Melissa could not buy. We also hired an assistant computer programmer to work with William, and it turned out to be fortunate we did. The Institute houses the transport room, several reception rooms, some basic living quarters and a fully equipped medical center. William had some health complications and needed to have treatment facilities available. His own doctor was ready on standby just in case William needed him. It has all the resources we need stored in the building and a generator that could power a small city. Here we built the time machines, a tiny one to start with. I was not a silent partner. I was involved at every stage. So much so that when the first machine exploded and killed my colleague and co-founder, I was able to take over the lead research. Fortunately, we kept a backup of the computer program outside the lab and this saved the project.

"There were some terrible mishaps in the beginning. I've already mentioned that the first machine disintegrated in a ball of fire that killed William Smith. It also wrecked our transport room. We asked ourselves why. It turned out there was a simple answer. We tried to move a Hot Wheels toy car back in time. By checking William's theories, we saw the flaw in our plan. We couldn't move metal. I was devastated and wanted to give up. However, the dream William started, had to be fulfilled. It took us three months to recover, get over our loss, and rebuild the lab. When we restored everything, we tried to move a stone pebble. It vanished and it immediately became apparent that we could move non-metallic items. We wondered if it would come back and where it went. The pebble did reappear a few moments later. We didn't know if it went back in time. We cleared a huge area, watched, and waited. Cameras recorded the space. Almost immediately, a pebble appeared - a different one - in the middle of the space - it just phased in from nowhere. Then a few moments later, it disappeared. We looked at the photos of the stone and started hunting for the rock we saw. The next day, we found the identical pebble on the ground outside the building. We brought it in and dutifully sent it back in time to complete the cycle. We moved larger and larger rocks. When we tried to send anything metal, the machine blew up. However, by now we placed the machine in a separate enclosure shielded with heavily reinforced concrete. The control room is outside. We are not going to lose another member of the team. Our test table was frequently visited by pebbles from a time in the future. We diligently recorded each one and when we found the identical rock outside we sent it back. We soon realized that the larger the object, the further back in time it went and the longer it stayed. A brick would stay away for 3 minutes - a small boulder, the size of a football, almost 5 minutes. It appeared to be a sort of slingshot effect through time. It was as if the pebble was on an elastic time cord. All we had to do was send it. The return was automatic."

Phil became excited when he told Tom about the next phase of the plan. "We reached the stage of sending hollow rocks. They had to be completely non-metallic or the rock blew up. We tried a paperclip inside a small hollowed out rock and it vaporized. Then came the moment we all thought impossible. We drilled out the inside of a rock just over one meter in diameter. We put the lab's pet cat into it and placed a flat stone on the top to seal it. An hour later, it came back with the cat alive. I decided to take my life in my hands. I crawled inside the rock myself. After a moment, man had his first experience of time travel. I pushed off the top stone and found myself in the middle of a forest. The cat was away about an hour, so I knew I had the same time. I used about five minutes to collect a few souvenirs. They were mainly organic things, since I knew the rock transport would explode if I brought back anything else. After about 5 minutes, I became scared and waited inside the rock for the next 55 minutes to return. I was dreading something going wrong and being stranded in the past. Sure enough, the slingshot effect of their time travel returned me to the present day. Carbon dating the things I brought back was pointless. We all knew it would show they were new. We sent them to a botanist and she went wild with excitement. She told us they were specimens of extinct plant that people assumed disappeared 300 years ago. She wanted to know where we found them, as it appeared a treasure trove of forgotten material.

"The larger the rock, the further back in time we could go. However, the calculations were impossibly complicated. To try to add the fluctuations in the flux blender we were using was beyond the most powerful computer and programs we could engineer and we didn't have William to guide us anymore. It was a function of the external size and shape and the integration of the flux."

Tom tutted at this point. He was getting lost again.

Phil continued. "Weight affected the time away, and by weighing the rocks, we could work out how long they would be gone. However to tie the transport down to a date of landing was beyond even our most sophisticated calculations. It was just potluck. All our experiments showed that once we chose a rock, it would always go back the same amount of time, no matter how many times you sent it. This was as long, of course, that you didn't chip any bits off the outside of it. Then Gary, our new computer expert, worked out how to change the landing coordinates of the boulders. We had to blend the flux in with a gravitational mindan shift and the stones would arrive in different places. We practiced calibrating the mindan -"

An "hmmm" from Tom brought Phil back on track.

Phil ignored it and went on. "After a while," he told Tom, "we could transport the rocks so they landed exactly where we wanted. We had fun sending small rocks to the local soccer stadium. Then we sent a rock painted to look like a football. By searching newspaper archive records, we found the result of this particular transport. It appeared a placekicker kicked a football that was like a rock. No one knew how it got there. The newspaper went on to say the player broke his foot and the ensuing fuss centered on the fact the man said the 'rock' he kicked came from nowhere. The field staff went to pick it up as evidence, but it disappeared. The newspaper went on to describe the whole incident as a bad taste joke that had backfired on the perpetrator."

His tale continued. "Finally, we decided to try an enormous rock. It is over 12 feet in diameter, and we built a new lab and transport mechanism around it. Lawrence, our engineer, carved it out to provide two seats inside. The door is a massive slab. It swings quite easily bearing in mind its weight. We programmed the arrival coordinates for Jerusalem. None of us relished going back to the first century in the USA. When I was younger, I carried out extensive research on the Temple of Solomon, and this facet of history intrigues me. I wrote a thesis on it while I was at Harvard. I wanted to go back and see it in real life. I also, conveniently, speak ancient Greek, Latin and Hebrew, so whenever it landed I would be able to communicate with someone. We made a good guess at the landing time and narrowed it down to somewhere in the first century. Secretly I hoped I would land around the time of the siege of Jerusalem and be able to witness the destruction of the Temple in 70AD. After that we intended to build an even larger transport and go back to see the first temple, 1,000 years earlier still. Remember we still could not be precise about the landing date. Imagine my surprise when I took the transport and emerged from the rock. I talked to a few people and found I landed just outside Jerusalem, near the Garden of Gethsemane. The year was 33 AD - the people I spoke to said it was the 7th year of the Prefecture of Pontius Pilate. I went to the temple and managed to ascertain that Jesus, just that same day, cleared out the moneychangers. I landed in what some people would say was the most important week in the history of man - the Passover week and the Passion of Christ. I read the bible as a child. I knew I had landed on Monday. The crucifixion was, according to tradition, on Friday - 4 days later. I hatched an insane plan without thinking of the possible consequences. I went to visit Pilate to talk to him about Jesus. We calculated I had around 24 hours at the location, before the rock would return. I did indeed have that interview with Pilate, but I made a fatal mistake. I inferred to Pilate that Jesus was a very important man and it would be better if he didn't punish the man for what he did in the temple."

Tom found this part of the story interesting and listened hard. It must have showed.

"I know this relates to your own studies," Phil said to Tom, "so I'll give you the full story here. Pilate flew into a rage. He screamed that he had enough of so-called Messiahs and he would see an end to Jesus and all his kind. I watched him prepare three copies of a warrant for Jesus' death and ordered his scribe to write it out on parchment. He sealed them with wax seals. He gave me one copy, he sent one to Rome and he gave the final one to the guards. I can't help worry that I have sentenced Jesus to death and created one of the central stories of the bible. Maybe if I had not been and seen Pilate the crucifixion would not have happened. Is this the sort of thing that science fiction talks about? Have I changed the present by changing the past? Then I hatched another plan. It will probably turn out to be as insane as the last one. I want to go back and snatch Jesus from the jaws of death. Maybe I can make history back to whatever it was before I changed it and made the stories that would become the Bible. The implications are huge. Without my interference might there be no Church, no Holy Wars, millions of lives spared? I can't live with myself knowing what I've done. I have to go back and try to talk Jesus out of allowing Pilate to crucify him. Otherwise I shall always feel I have the deaths of millions of people on my hands."

"Just imagine the world today without a Pope," Tom exclaimed.

"All too soon, my time back in the first century ended and I returned to the present. I brought the parchment and the memories. I know what I have to do. However, in order to communicate with Jesus I need to be a fluent Aramaic speaker. Or else I need a trusted translator with me. I found a few people there spoke a type of Greek, but most were speaking Aramaic. Melissa made a rapid investigation and she told me that you, Tom, were the man. You are possibly the only fluent speaker of ancient Judean Aramaic in the world. However, Melissa told me that you were a cautious and private man and the only way to persuade you to come on board was to hook your interest. Melissa said that a direct approach would never work. I didn't have any time to spare, but I knew I had to be patient. Lawrence made the wax seal and Melissa obtained the telephone with the number 888, and I set off for Seattle. As I drove up, I called you from the car. You suddenly answered and we had our first conversation. I arrived an hour or so later and left the package on your doorstep. Then I slept the night in the car, and you know the rest."

Tom listened to the story with growing curiosity. He could sense this man was actually involved in history and possibly caused the crucifixion of Jesus. Without his interference, who knew what might have been. He considered that the majority of the books on his shelves were there because of the actions in 2012 of one man. He wondered if Pilate wouldn't have sent Jesus to his death. Maybe - who knew! Excitedly he considered they were going to change history again. They were going to remove the central character from a religion that lasted almost 2,000 years. This was truly the stuff of science fiction. He wondered if all the bibles would disappear. Would the churches just vanish? What would happen to the Pope and the Vatican? Without their Messiah dying and being resurrected, who knew? The consequences were unimaginable. Nevertheless, he had to go through with it. His innate curiosity had him firmly in its grip and he was about to become a time traveler.

A little after noon they screeched to a halt at the 'lab' in Portland. Tom realized it wasn't quite how he imagined it. When Phil had used the word, Institute, he pictured a large, white, modern building, perhaps on an Industrial Estate, surrounded by lush green lawns and trees. In his mind, he saw a white sign, welcoming visitors. The Smith Baxendale Institute that Phil now took him to appeared to be anything but this. He wasn't concerned when they drove off the main road after they left Hillsboro. For the last few miles, they drove through an unkempt and untended wooded area, set in some low hills. Tom saw a collection of buildings perhaps aggregating to the size of a large, old farm complex. It appeared to have a low, single storey front, and Tom saw a larger, two or three storey box-like structure behind. He saw some dilapidated outbuildings next to it, precariously leaning on it. He watched as Phil pressed a button in his car and the garage-style door on one of these outbuildings opened. After Phil parked his car inside, Tom noted the 'garage' appeared a lot more substantial inside than outside. Phil's car appeared safe in its reinforced home when the door shut. He wondered how many other vehicles the Institute garaged in similar seemingly dilapidated outbuildings. He followed Phil out of the garage.

Tom watched, as the door closed and the garage became an ordinary shack again. He noted most of the buildings were clad in aging wood, but had sections of bare, flaking concrete, which someone painted many years ago, in a dull beige color. From appearances, the complex looked to be about 50 years old and virtually derelict. He thought one major storm and the whole lot would collapse. There were no other buildings in sight, and the road it was on was a forest track going nowhere. Phil told Tom there were a few cabins down the track, but they weren't used much. He couldn't see a nameplate on the building, and at a casual look, he would have mistaken it for a derelict farm. Tom's immediate reaction was he made a dreadful mistake. Phil led Tom inside. They went in through a room that gave the impression of a rotting farm store. He saw the door hanging loose on one hinge. The bare shelves appeared long empty and neglected. A heavy coating of dust lay everywhere. They went through a back door, heavily secured and Tom saw the real Institute behind. He was immediately impressed.

Phil took him through the immaculately painted white reception area, to a very pleasant waiting room. He at last understood the rotting farm shop was a front for a new, impressive and very secret operation.

Phil asked him, "Does the place surprise you?"

Tom nodded feebly. He hadn't imagined this in his wildest dreams, and he hadn't seen any visions of it either.

Phil continued, "It took us a year to build it and another 6 months to camouflage it. The builders thought we were mad, but we handpicked them from a trusted team we flew in from out-of-state. There was plenty of local gossip, but a good few beers bought in the local bar in Dilley put most people on our side. Locally the folk refer to us as 'those queer folks in the woods'. We don't have any trouble from them and most have forgotten we're here."

Phil quickly introduced Tom to the rest of the staff.

Tom initially had in his mind a research team of dozens. He was actually surprised to find they numbered only four. Apart from Phil, there was Gary Stewart. He was the lead scientist now. Prematurely grey haired and balding, Tom guessed he was only in his 30s. His thick glasses and the white coat, gave away little else. He said very little, but when he did, it was with a pronounced stammer.

Melissa Tondust was older - mid 40s. She was the procurement manager. She too wore a white coat, and her hair was jet black and piled up on her head. There was a row of pens in her pocket and she never seemed to put down the clipboard in her hand.

Phil said "If you need anything ask Melissa and it will be here. She prides herself on frequently buying things BEFORE anyone asks for them."

Melissa smiled.

Then Phil introduced Tom to their engineer. His name was Lawrence Burstall. His specialty was making things, and he could turn his hand to the manufacture of anything. If they needed a complex circuit board or a turned part from a lathe or a new electronic part to increase the power of Phil's Viper, all they did was ask Lawrence and it was there.

The final member of the team had been William Smith. He was a brilliant theoretical physicist and a computer engineer. He wrote the program to make time travel a reality, before the first experiment tragically killed him. No one since him could adapt the program. They seriously doubted any scientist could understand his computer code. Nevertheless, they kept the computer and they kept the program going as they transported larger and larger rocks. Each time it performed its function perfectly.

Phil asked Lawrence to prepare Tom for time travel. They walked into a small room, silver in color, mainly clad in brushed stainless steel. It appeared like a lab in an alien spaceship. In it were a number of machines. Tom never saw their like before. In the middle of the room was a medical bench. Above it was a bright operating theatre-style light. Phil warned him there would have to be a medical, but it shook Tom to see the other-worldliness of the area. Time was of the essence here and everyone knew it. Lawrence asked him to strip naked, and put away all his clothing. Apart from being incongruous if he arrived in Jerusalem in his suit, it wouldn't be possible. A single metal pin, let alone a zipper would detonate the time travel capsule.

The first thing that Tom underwent was a full scan from a very sensitive metal detector. He lay on the bench and endured a full body magnetic scan.

While he was lying there, his mind wandered with his first premonition since meeting Phil. He was in the hot and dusty town again. Then once more, he saw the crosses. He could clearly see the face of the man on the center one this time. It was striking because of the eyes. They looked right into his soul, and they were blue, intense blue. He felt them drill into him. As if, his own vision was examining him. In his mind, he looked around. There was the cross on either side. The man on the right was Tom, himself. He was ready for that revelation this time. What shocked him to the core was the face of the man on the left. It was his new colleague - Phil. He could see both victims were dressed in simple white robes.

He shook his head, causing consternation in Lawrence who was just about to check that part of his body.

"Please keep still. I know this is uncomfortable but it's very necessary." The rebuke was pointed and vehement.

"I'm sorry. A bad daydream. I had to shake myself awake. I'll not move again." He didn't and the scan was soon completed.

Tom was fortunate that he lost his teeth long ago; he removed his dentures and left them behind. Any metal fillings would have been fatal. He knew he had no pins in his bones, his hips had held out and the joints were original. Finally, Lawrence checked his heart. They couldn't imagine a pacemaker exploding! He completed the health questionnaire in a few minutes. He looked at the small print, which was many pages long, but Tom decided he didn't want to read it. Despite Lawrence's protests, he just scrawled his name at the bottom of the last page. Lawrence provided him with a simple linen robe, bleached white with a rope belt to tie it at the waist. This scared Tom a little who still had the vision fresh in his mind. Lawrence then replaced his black leather shoes with leather sandals, sewn with cotton thread. Tom asked one boon. He wanted to take his crucifix. He carried this small wooden object with him for years. He argued that as it was wooden, it could not be a problem. Lawrence X-rayed it, checked it for metal under the most sensitive of the detectors and finally pronounced it OK. Thirty minutes later, poked, prodded, re-dressed, and with the crucifix in a small cloth bag hanging from his neck, he met up with Phil again. His good mood dispersed. He didn't like the poking into his person and he desperately regretted the period while Lawrence examined him naked. The memory of the vision he had still shook him.

"An old man of 74 shouldn't be treated like this," he kept mumbling.

However, he knew it was essential. He knew the consequences of a mistake. Phil showed him the remains of the paperclip they had tried to transport. It was just a small cluster of metallic spheres, welded together by an intense heat. He told Tom the rock containing it disintegrated to ash under the high temperature.

Phil apologized for the treatment and repeated its necessity. He was now dressed in a similar simple linen robe and together the two men, looking like refugees from a passion play, walked through the lab. They arrived at an enormous door, with a number of different locking devices on it. First Phil underwent a retina scan, then a palm print and finally he entered a long key code number. The huge door, almost a meter thick opened slowly.

"We need protection," Phil said, "it's not from espionage, but from inside. If this rock explodes, it could take out the entire city. The walls of the building are over a meter thick reinforced concrete and the door, as you can see, will take the blast. The control room is outside." He gestured to a 'box' to the side. That still didn't explain to Tom why they had the triple lock on the entry system.

Phil led Tom inside and the sight of an enormous boulder immediately grabbed Tom's attention. He looked at it and then looked up. He thought he was in a giant microwave. He could see a mesh screen covering the walls. In the top of the ceiling, he saw a unit that looked like a fan in a convector oven. For one moment, he thought he was going to be micro waved alive.

Phil quietly said, "You don't have to do this you know."

"Oh, but I do" replied Tom. "I've been waiting years to find some purpose in my life, now I have it. When I went to bed last night, I was annoyed at a crank who telephoned me. When I meditated this morning, I knew I should have talked to him. I've been having flashes all day of being in a hot and dusty town. Now I'm about to entrust my life to the crank and go on the adventure I've always wanted. I have to go. When do we depart?"

"Now if you're ready" came the reply from Phil. "According to my calculations we should arrive about an hour before dusk and the rock will return 24 hours later at about 5 p.m. on the day of the crucifixion. If we leave it any later, we will miss our best chance to talk Jesus out of it at the last supper. If all else fails I have a plan to snatch him at the last moment. We can't risk the rock returning without him."

Tom noted that Phil said 'we' when he was talking about the trip out and 'him' rather than 'us' for the trip back.

"Will we come back?" asked Tom quietly.

"I don't know." Phil replied with surprising honesty. "There are many unknowns. I don't want to risk things again. If I hadn't made such an almighty mess-up with history last time, I wouldn't be going now. I have to put right the alternate future I may have created. I have given instructions that the moment we depart the team will destroy the computer attached to the machine and the backup software along with it. Without William to recreate it, we can't start again. This journey back into the past will be the last."

With that thought, the giant outer door swung shut, and there was a soft locking click. The 12-inch diameter titanium-alloy bolts engaged virtually silently. They were taking no chances with the city this time.

Tom joined Phil and they settled themselves down in the rock. Tom carried his bag with the crucifix in it on a string round his neck and he noticed Phil wore a similar small cloth bag. He could see a number of bulges inside it and it clanked in a rocky sort of way. He guessed there were a number of rock-made items inside. He knew there couldn't be anything metal and doubted he'd risk anything else. Phil asked him if he was ready and leaned out to close the door. It crossed Tom's mind what would happen if they couldn't open it. He saw an indentation on the inside, a grab handle. Phil leaned out and put his hand in the crevice. He heaved and the door closed after them. Tom was entombed in the rock.

The team outside were watching them on their monitors. They saw the rock door close. They started the complex series of operations. Gary entered a sequence of codes into the master computer. A man's voice came over a loud speaker; it counted down from ten. Phil said, "That's William. We recorded the countdown the day he died. We play the tape every time we transport in memory of him."

Inside the rock, Tom didn't know what to expect. Phil told him the rock acted as sort of a cage. Like a Faraday cage, that protects one from electricity, but Tom didn't know what this meant. Phil hadn't time to go into any detail of the transport; it was all new and exciting. Now firsthand Tom was about to experience time travel.

## Chapter 3 \- Gethsemane

As time travel experiences went, this one was mightily uninspiring. Tom was a sheltered academic. Still, he read enough books and saw enough movies on the subject of temporal displacement to expect something dramatic. There were no flashes and bangs; there was no great lurching of the machine; there were no whirls, whistles, and rushes through space. The idea of flying through a wormhole in space didn't happen. Instead, there was silence, unnerving silence. Eventually Tom caught some sounds coming from outside.

That appears to be birdsong, he thought.

Phil said, "We're here. You've just arrived at 33 AD, welcome to the past."

Well, thought Tom, I expected more than that. It can't have worked properly. To his surprise, when they pushed the rock door open, he found it definitely worked. Instead of the concrete and mesh covered interior of a lab, he saw they were in the middle of a rocky terrace. In front of them, he could see a tended area of grassland. He stood up and walked out. Behind him was a cliff face, and around them several other large boulders. He could readily see theirs was by far the biggest. It appeared to him to blend in well and Tom wondered if this was accidental. All around them were spring flowers. He felt warm too, not the unseasonable March cold of Seattle. He was in a garden. To the West, he could see an old walled city. He reckoned it could only be one place. From all his study and all he could see, he guessed they were in the Garden of Gethsemane.

"When you've caught your breath and finished sightseeing we better go," said Phil. "The last supper starts soon and although I think I know roughly where Jesus is it's a big city."

"With my knowledge of Jerusalem, I don't think we'll have a problem getting to the right area," replied Tom. "But I don't know the exact location. I'll have to bribe people to find the exact information. I don't suppose you brought any coins with you?"

Phil smiled at him, "And risk blowing us both up?"

"Well, as the Aramaic speaker, I guess it's down to me to think of a way to acquire some," remarked Tom. "At least I can earn my ticket here."

They set off at a brisk walk. Somewhere along the transport, the time of day slipped. The position of the sun showed it was late afternoon and yet when they left Portland, it was not much after one p.m. Tom speculated it was some sort of time-traveler's jet lag. They quickly arrived at the city wall and skirted round it, rather than going in. They were looking for a place called "The Cenacle," which they both believed to be the place where the Last Supper took place. Traditionally it was just outside the walls on Mount Zion. However, Tom knew the name, Cenacle, merely meant an upper room for eating, it wasn't a place name. They relied on ancient descriptions. They headed towards the Mount, which was on the West side of the city, opposite the Garden where they landed. The streets were hot and dusty and there were quite a number of people walking through them. An influx of pilgrims coming for Passover swelled the population of Jerusalem. These pilgrims didn't know what was going to follow. History was about to be made - or was it broken.

Tom was completely absorbed in this new world. He listened to the people in the crowd and realized his knowledge of Judean Aramaic was good, but his accent was terrible. He would have to pass himself off as a foreign traveler, maybe a mystic. In the 2,000 years since this time, the academic perception of the accent was corrupted. He knew it would be a struggle to make himself understood, but he was sure he could do it. He started to work in his mind how they could obtain the money for the bribes. He couldn't think how to get it at first. Then with a brainwave and he set about his plan.

They were standing in a small square. Around them were many stalls and food carts. It was obviously a small market. The food looked strange, and although Tom recognized some of the delights, there were things there that did not appeal. One stall sold insects and grubs. The stallholder erected a brazier and fried these morsels for the crowd to eat. Another stall was selling bread. Two or three stalls sold whole salted fish.

Tom said to Phil, "I wonder what the Food Safety Agency would make of all this? In Seattle this whole area would be closed down in seconds."

Phil smiled to acknowledge the comment. "We have to move. Time is pressing," he said.

Then suddenly Tom called out in a loud voice "Who would talk with the great mystic from far away?" "I can foresee your future and tell your fortune."

Phil looked startled at the game Tom seemed to be playing.

As a much younger man, Tom studied the work of fortunetellers and prophets. He learned the tricks of their trade to make it a party piece of his. It was one of his attempts at making himself feel wanted, of having a purpose. However, his skills had been poor. He never developed the patter. Now 50 years later in his life, 2000 years earlier in real time and in a foreign language, he would try his skills again. His foreign sounding accent, and the assurance with which he presented their future, meant that the details in his speech were irrelevant. This was a different audience to the ones from his early 20s. These people believed in mystics, messiahs and fortunetellers.

One young man sheepishly came forward out of the crowd and said, "I want to know my future. My wife died in childbirth last week and I have no other children to care for me when I'm old. What will happen to me when I need help, who will look after me?"

This was all the information Tom needed. The man practically told Tom his own destiny. Normally Tom would start with a line; you've lost someone close, recently. In the first century, this was something that happened regularly. Everyone was losing parents, children, siblings or friends at alarmingly frequent intervals. Once a subject answered yes, Tom could start his work. Here the man gave Tom the key to the patter. All Tom did was reassuring him.

"What's your name?" asked Tom.

"Elisha," replied the man.

"Well, Elisha, let me see your hand."

As he looked deeply into the palm, he let his mind wander. He saw an image in his head, a vision. He saw this man with a younger girl beside him and a large group of children around him. He had no idea where this image came from, yet he was getting used to these premonitions. He used it as the basis of the answer that followed. He let his eyes roll up in a theatrical gesture. He started to talk with an even stranger put-on accent. He retained the melodramatic technique he learned so long ago. A very deep voice came from seemingly nowhere.

"I can see a happy future for you. Your life will be good from this day on. You will soon meet a young girl and marry her within a year. You will have many children and they will take care of you. Be kind to your family. They will love you if you are a good husband and father."

Elisha looked amazed. Tom's eyes rolled back and he blinked and said in his normal voice, "The spirits have spoken, so it will be."

Elisha looked at him thankfully and walked away smiling.

Phil was getting edgy. Time was pressing. He tugged at Tom's sleeve. "OK you've had your fun now, let's go."

Tom ignored him.

A young girl came forward out of the melee. "Will I have a healthy baby?" she patted her stomach, which was obviously showing signs of the child. Again, the introduction Tom needed was there.

He went through the charade again. "What is your name, my child?"

"Sarah." She replied. "I'm only 13 and my parents have said I'm too young to have a healthy baby. They say my first child will die and I will die with it. This is the punishment I will have for having a baby while unmarried."

Awkward, thought Tom. He placed his hand gently on her stomach as if feeling the child within. He felt it kick, it was a survivor. In his mind he knew saw an image of a strong and healthy young man. He saw the man out in the fields tending sheep. He felt this was the occupation of Sarah's family. He saw Sarah herself with him. She was looking much older and happy. He again wondered where these day dreams, these images were coming from. He let his eyes wander and roll back as before. His voice deepened and his manner became strange. Let them think the spirits are taking me over, he thought.

"My child," he started. "If you love your parents you will listen to them. You should have waited before bearing a child. Nevertheless, I can foresee a long future for you. The child will live, and you will too. Remember, listen to your parents and be a good mother in your turn. He will be a healthy boy, follow the family calling, and become a shepherd. You will live happily with him and he will take care of you in your old age." He shook himself and let his attention come back to the real world.

Phil now was becoming nervous. "We really have to go. Stop this, please."

Again, Tom ignored him and looked around the crowd.

The next man stepped forward. He was older and well dressed. He said to Tom, "I'm a devout Jew. I'm a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin. I don't know whether to believe in fortunetellers, but your words carry power. I believe in a new faith. There is a man who has come to this city and is preaching a new way. I am his friend and a follower. Can you tell me what my future will be?"

"What's your name?" asked Tom.

"Nicodemus, most people called me Nicky."

"Give me your hands, Nicky."

As Tom examined the man's hands, the most powerful cold wave ran through his body. In his mind, he quite unmistakably saw Nicky inside a silver room. It wasn't an ancient room; it appeared to be from Tom's own time. The vision showed Nicky looking at a man lying on a table. It looked like an operating table. Four other people stood around him. Nicky looked at the man. They talked excitedly about him. One of them injected something into the man's arm. Then the four people left, leaving only Nicky. He bent down and kissed the man on the table. This was obviously Nicky's friend. The patient opened his eyes and smiled a peaceful smile at him. Tom could only see the eyes. They were powerful and commanding. Moreover, they were an iridescent, intense blue. In this country that was extremely rare. He knew those eyes from before, but where? He shook himself free of this vision and didn't know what to make of it.

"I can see your future but it is painted in riddles. I do see it is going to be a long and important one. You do have a good friend. You will stay beside him, despite anything that happens. You will stay with him and go to a strange place. I can sense a very long future for the two of you. It's full of danger, excitement and mystery for both of you."

Nicky thanked him, smiled at him and left.

Phil was ready to go on his own. He thought Tom's mind had slipped. He had forgotten the prime mission. "Please let's go. I can't risk missing the last supper."

"We need money for bribes don't we?" answered Tom. He held out his hand and opened it. He showed Phil a small pile of coins. "Look, these are the rewards for telling people's fortunes. We'll soon have enough. I won't be much longer."

Phil smiled. Tom hadn't gone insane. Sheepishly Phil backed off and left Tom to his 'magic'.

Tom was enjoying this new skill. He knew if he gave the people hope, their own self-belief would make them happy.

Tom wondered if he believed in himself when he was younger, how different his life might be. He lacked self-belief all his life. Here he was enjoying the attention. He found he had a calling he could use. Yes, he knew they were only simple parlor tricks but he had a knack for them and they were producing results. Then there were the flashes of inspiration that he didn't understand. In this age, he could see the people actually lining up to talk to him. He remembered with sadness back home when he was a lecturer and a professor, that he had a captive audience. He never had the feeling the students wanted to be there. Here in a few minutes he gathered a crowd of the curious who really wanted to hear him.

One young man, in his early 30s, bearded and dressed quite plainly in a bleached white robe, much like Tom's own, came up to him. He appeared calm as if there were no problems in his life whatsoever. Tom suspected this wouldn't be easy.

"What is your problem?" asked Tom.

"I want to know if I must die," replied the man.

It was at that moment Tom noticed the man's eyes. They were powerful and an iridescent, intense blue. He had seen them before in the vision when he read Nicky's future. He had seen them somewhere else too. What did this all mean?

"What is your name?" asked Tom

"You know my name," answered the man.

Tom didn't like this. The man seemed to be testing him. The question he asked Tom was strange too. Tom took the man's hand and let his mind go blank. In a flash of inspiration, which came from the deepest corner of his mind, he saw the man nailed to a cross. He knew immediately who the man was and what he must say. In his vision looked around. There was a cross on either side, but this time he could not see the faces of the crucified men.

"We all die my friend. When the time has come our life on the earth will end and we must move on. Nevertheless, I sense more in you. I sense a long future, far longer than you can imagine. Don't give up the will to live. I have said to others before, be kind and loving and your destiny will unfold as it is written."

Tom knew that normally would be enough. He knew that after he said his party piece, the fortune told, the people would go away. This man didn't appear finished yet though.

He turned to Tom and said, "You have spoken well. Listen to your own words. Now listen to me. You carry a symbol in your bag. Guard it well. It will end up saving your life."

A shiver ran down Tom's spine as he listened to the man.

He said, "Bless you my child," and turned to walk off.

Tom thought he saw him turn back. He thought he saw a small gesture of 'follow me'. He didn't wait for a second invitation.

I know this man. You talk to me about him, father. He has a place in my future and I make him welcome. I tell him about the cross he has in his bag. He needs that for protection. He will remember this when the time comes. Yet the cross foretells a terrible future for me. Father, your will is powerful, but if there is any way, please take the torment from me.

Tom gathered a small quantity of bronze coins in his hand. He knew he had enough to find the information they would later need. However, with his last encounter, he met Jesus. All they had to do now was follow him.

Tom turned to Phil and quietly said, "We need to follow that group of men, the last man I spoke to. I think that man is Jesus himself. The others with him must be some of his disciples. If we follow him carefully, he will take us right to the room of the last supper."

Slowly they worked their way through the town staying just behind the group of men. They followed them at a discrete distance and saw them go into a large house.

"This is it," said Tom. "We're going in to meet the Messiah."

## Chapter 4 \- The Last Supper

They entered the house and went up a steep ladder to an upper room. It was large, about 25 feet square. A white colored wash coated simple plastered walls. A number of dark areas indicated shallow alcoves, which were empty. There were three small windows in the back wall through which they could see the city hills beyond in the fading evening light. On the walls were rush torches burning in holders. It wasn't quite dark enough yet to need them, but soon the sun's light would fade. There was a long table in the middle of the room, covered with a white cloth. It had the trappings of a feast laid out on it: a simple, but plentiful meal: jugs of red wine, a number of glasses and some bread rolls. He noted several oil lamps on the table to light the feast.

Tom looked around. He saw a group of people seated on benches around the long table. He had gate crashed the most exclusive party of 33AD - the Last Supper. He watched the men who arrived take their seats. A number of others appeared to have been there for some time. As he looked at that gathering of people, he was conscious that every one of them stared back at him. He counted eleven men present.

That's interesting, thought Tom; I wish I had a camera here to record that. The bible talks about 12 disciples being at the last supper, and there are only ten here.

Straightaway Tom saw the man who earlier beckoned them to follow. He took his place at the center of the table. Tom looked into his eyes and they transfixed him. They were powerful and an iridescent intense blue. He knew he had seen them three times before today. He remembered they belonged to the man whose fortune read. He remembered they belonged to the patient in his vision with Nicky. He remembered they belonged to the man who he saw on the cross. He knew that in the market he had told Jesus his fortune.

He looked at the man to Jesus' left. This man was staring open mouthed back at him. He looked again. He couldn't believe it but the man was identical to him. Tom went to speak, but his mind went completely blank. He looked a third time at his twin who beckoned him over.

"I'm Tom," he said in his best Aramaic.

"I'm James," said the other man. "Jesus said I had a twin brother, but I kept on telling him I only had one brother and he wasn't my twin." He pointed at another man along the table. This man only vaguely looked like James and certainly wasn't his twin. He was many years younger for a start, "That's John, my brother. Jesus must have known you would come. You are indeed my twin, Tom."

"How old are you?" asked Tom

"I'm 74. I've had a good life and I'm happy I'm still healthy now I have grown old."

"I'm 74 also, and I too have good health. What day were you born?" asked Tom again.

"The 3rd day of the new year," replied James.

Tom whistled softly. "My birthday is the 3rd of January too. We are exactly the same age, we are like twins."

"Join us," echoed a powerful voice from the middle of the table, interrupting this discussion. "Join in our feast." The host of the Last Supper issued a personal invitation to join them. "Come sit on my left hand side."

Tom, sat next to his twin, James, along with Phil and they kept very quiet. There were now 12 disciples in the room.

"I knew you would come," started Jesus. "My father told me. You've come to tell me it's dangerous here. I know this already. You've come to tell me that Pilate has issued papers for my death and that he wants to crucify me. Again, I know this. My father tells me all things. Still this is not the time for talking. It is not the time for planning. It's time to celebrate. Join in our Passover feast and we can talk after. Now I want you to meet my friends."

Jesus indicated along the table from one end to the other as he called out each disciple's name. Each man in his turn came from where he was sitting and kissed the newcomers on both cheeks.

"This is Bartholomew" he gestured to the far end of the table. "He's my friend from Cana. His name was Nathaniel, but he wanted to start his new life with a new name. He is a traveler and wants to see the whole world. My father will keep him safe in his journey."

Bartholomew smiled widely. The thought of travel was in his mind, and as usual, Jesus was spot on with what he said.

"Next to him is James, Alf's son. He has followed me for a long time and in my mind he's like my brother." James beamed at this.

"Andrew has been with me the longest of all my friends. He was the first of all to join the group. He comes from Bethsaida in Galilee and is a fisherman. You should have seen his face when I walked on the water by the fishing boats. He did not know I was doing it to save the boat. I knew where the hidden rocks were and I walked over them to lead the boat through them. Andrew thought it was magic." With that, Jesus laughed and Andrew smiled in agreement.

"Judas is from Kerioth. He has a large part to play in my life that he knows already. You will all find out later. I don't want to say any more now, but all will be revealed within the next few hours." He scowled as he looked across at the man. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you Judas?"

Judas looked decidedly uncomfortable. He was toying with a saltcellar. As he stood up to walk round the table and kiss the newcomers, he knocked it over and cursed. He was obviously nervous and was patently ill at ease.

Jesus continued, "Peter is my best friend. He's Andrew's brother and he has earned a place on my right hand side. He's another fisherman."

Turning to Peter, he said to him, "I know you have problems in your mind, but I still value your counsel more than that of any of the others. You have earned the right to be on my right hand side." He looked directly into Peter's eyes and held his gaze for a few moments. Jesus continued, almost whispering, "You are one of my longest and closest friends; but even you will tell people you're not one of my followers. You will do this to save your own skin. In fact you'll do it this very night, three times before morning."

"Never," replied Peter, unconvincingly. "I'm proud to be a part of your group and I'd never tell people I don't follow you."

"You will do what you have to do," said Jesus. Peter simply shrugged his shoulders and didn't move. He was the only one who didn't stand up and personally welcome the newcomers. It went through Tom's mind that maybe Peter had something to hide after all.

"Here's John. He keeps our notes and writes. I love to read what he says, but he does sometimes embroider the truth. Someday his writings will be of great help to others. I remember his version of the five loaves and two fishes. He made it sound miraculous." With that, he winked at John. "I have sat down with him though on many an occasion and tried to explain what I am doing here. He's promised he'll record the thoughts, hopes and dreams I have rather than just the things that have happened."

"On my other side, between you two is James, Zeb's son and John's brother," he continued. "He was a carpenter like me before he joined us. He never believed he had a twin brother, until today."

"Matthew is a story teller from Galilee and will tell great tales. He's started already going out and telling the people what we are doing. His stories are not the same as John's writings. One-day people will write his stories down so they don't forget them. Matthew listens to me and remembers many things that others forget. I spoke a sermon on a mount in Galilee one day. I told everyone how to receive my father's blessing. I remember these words, and so does Matthew. Maybe in the future I can use them again. John was too slow. He couldn't follow the story with his writings. Matthew tells a great tale."

He continued along the line: "Jude is my older half brother. Our mother Mary had many children and I'm sad that the only one to have stayed with me is Jude. All the others have gone their own way. I still see my mother from time to time, but it's a shame that I have lost touch with all the rest. Of all my followers, I have known him longest. But he is new in his ministry."

Tom could not help thinking of his own brothers. How he was very close to them when they were all young children, but when they moved to Seattle, they grew apart. In fact, he didn't think he had any contact with either of them for over 40 years. Not since - but that was for another time.

"And finally we have Simon. He comes from Canaan. He's a bit of a rogue and stirs up trouble with his friends. He is content now to follow me rather than try to throw the Romans out. There's no place at my table for fighting with the Romans."

At this, Tom heard Peter snort. He saw him give Jesus a filthy look. He could sense Peter didn't agree with this. Peter, he thought, had different plans.

"And for the benefit of my old friends here, I'll introduce you two. Tom I know better than he thinks. He thinks he's looked into my mind, but I've looked into his. His name ought to be Didymus, the Twin as he is so alike with James. Not that James believed it until today. However, you Tom, you have always doubted me. You never truly knew what I was and what I am to become. You met me earlier today and now we meet again. You have a longer future than you realize and will become part of my story, even though you cannot see how at this moment."

"The last of my friends here is Philip. He comes from far away. He came here once before, three days ago. I know what he did. He is on a mission, which he thinks he made himself. However, I tell you all that my father has foreseen all things and everything is in his plan. Philip need not worry. He hasn't and he won't change anything; whatever he does. He will have a son and his son will have a son for eighty generations. Their name will be Philip. They will have a task to keep my message pure." He turned and looked straight at Phil. "Remember this word, Echmoth. I will tell you more of this later. You will be my soldier. Your son will fight for me."

Phil didn't understand this at all. He turned the word over in his mind so he could remember it. 'Echmoth'. He had never heard it before. He even wondered what language it was. 'Echmoth'. Ech, rhymed with fetch and moth like the insect. 'Fetch moth' - he saw a mental picture of him getting a large dusty ragged butterfly. He had the word in his mind now. He'd never forget it. Nevertheless, apart from the word, there was the fact he had no children; in fact, he wasn't even married. He was devoted to his work and that was all. Besides, he wasn't a soldier and didn't want to fight.

"I want to extend my welcome to our visitors," he exclaimed. "Welcome all my brothers," Jesus concluded and he went over, kissed the two men and sat down again.

Every man in the group smiled at the others. Suddenly the number of disciples of Jesus increased by two. The original 10 seemed all too happy to welcome these new friends. All that was except Peter, who had not smiled once since they came in.

Jesus leaned over to Phil and Tom and quietly spoke to them. "These men are all my trusted friends. I'm not too sure about Peter though. A Roman soldier raped his sister, Elyse, and ever since that, he's been a little disturbed. I am not surprised about this. He's been more militant than I care and is telling people to throw the Romans out. He wants me to stand as King of the Jews and persuade the people to rise and start a revolution. I'm watching him, but for now, I am just showing him kindness and tolerance. In time, he will forgive the soldier. My message is one where I preach forgiveness, turn the other cheek and love your neighbor. Judas on the other hand is like a lion that lies down with a baby. It appears to be a friend, but when the baby isn't looking, it will kill the child. My father has told me to watch him, lest he becomes dangerous. Peter is a protective big brother. Judas is a threat."

I have confused messages from you, father. Some tell me that Judas betrays me; others say I must watch Peter. I will watch both. I know that times change. Peter and I are not the same team we were before. Now I have you to guide me. Please lead me now father, and tell me whom to trust.

The feast continued and the men chatted quietly among themselves. Phil for the most part stayed quiet, as he didn't understand what they said. When Jesus addressed them, he switched to speaking in Greek, which most of them seemed to understand. Nevertheless, it was obvious they preferred speaking in Aramaic, and when they did, Phil couldn't follow. Tom on the other hand understood every word and translated the gist of the conversations for Phil.

Towards the end of the Passover meal, Jesus called for quiet. He said it was an important time now for the fellowship and important for the future. He then took a loaf of bread, broke it into pieces, and passed it round. He told the others to consider this his body and to eat it in celebration of his life. The men passed the load around and each tore a piece from it. They ate this as Jesus instructed.

He then took a cup of wine, and blessed it. Phil noted the cup. It was about 6 inches high and about the same in diameter. It appeared to be made of silver. On the outside were designs. One side showed an older man appearing to be carrying the body of a younger one. Maybe this was meant to represent his firstborn son. On the other side was a nine-branched candlestick. The cup was very ornate and not the sort of thing to be at a normal feast, but was evidently kept for the Passover. He passed it round and told them to drink the wine in remembrance of him. Each of the men drank from the cup. He said there would be a new covenant between his father and his followers. This wine, representing Jesus' blood would commemorate that. Jesus then told the men that there would be problems ahead for all of them.

They settled back for some more wine and talking. Peter stood up and walked over to one of the back wall windows. He sat on the sill and beckoned the two newcomers to join him. He looked older than many of the team. His grey hair and beard, his lined face, and his stooped manner showed the outward appearance of a man worn out by troubles and a hard life. However, his voice was clear and strong.

"Can we speak?" he said. "You've had a chance to chat to some of the others, but we've not had time to become friends. I've known Jesus as long as any of the disciples, apart from his own brother of course. I've studied under him and watched him grow lazy and weak. Without my help, he wouldn't be where he is today. I've carried him, and the fellowship of his, for the last year. I'm looking for some good men to help me branch out. I know I can play this game better than he does. He keeps on talking about his father, and if he says that's the source of his so-called power, then he's having everyone on. I met Joseph, his father, once and he's a feeble old man. He could no more talk to Jesus from afar than fly. If Jesus says anything to you about Elyse, my sister, he's just trying to stir up trouble. She's a lovely girl, and she's become besotted with a Roman centurion. I'm going to give her to him for a dowry of thirty pieces of silver. They will live happily together and will have many children. I'd rather the Romans weren't here, but far more than that, I'd rather Jesus would go. It's time for the new era - Peter the Messiah. I have a plan and I'm looking for good men to join me."

Tom didn't know what to say. This was an awkward turn of events. He replied rather feebly, "We will consider everything. I'm not sure how we can help you, but the future looks interesting and we want to be a part of it." He turned to Phil, "This puts a new spin on everything, Peter the Messiah?"

Before Peter could continue, Jesus stood up and called for people's attention. Peter returned to his seat, merely saying, "We'll talk more later."

Jesus went on to address them. "This is by way of a farewell to you. There are some of you I won't see again after tonight. So give me a moment to say goodbye."

With that, he gathered a basin of water and moved behind the table. He picked up a towel and tied it around his waist. He stopped at each of his friends and knelt down in front of them. In an act of humility, he washed each of their feet in turn. After he washed them, he dried them with the towel he was wearing around his waist. Peter was the only one who protested.

"I don't want you to wash my feet," Peter said. "If anything I'd like to wash the other's feet WITH you. We used to be a team. We'd do everything together, and now you've taken this high-and-mighty position. Next thing you'll be telling us is that you're King of the Jews."

"Calm down," replied Jesus. "It's OK, I know you're upset over your sister, but I'd really like to show you the way to humility. My message is all about meekness and being of service to others. Let me wash your feet and you will understand. If you can forget the hurt Elyse suffered, you will be ready to join me by my side."

"First of all stop bringing my sister into it," said Peter, his voice rising in temper. "She's happy with the centurion. It wasn't rape. You're making that up to make me look bad. You're forgetting the thing that really upsets me. We used to be a team. Let me wash your feet and then I'm sure I'll see the message. This used to be OUR team, now it's YOUR team. I never agreed to take second place."

Jesus replied, "This is the way it has to be. Give me a chance to show my position and you can show yours later."

"Well, if you're not going to let me wash other people's feet now, I'm sure as Hades not going to let you wash mine." With that, he withdrew his feet firmly under the bench. Jesus looked at him with pity in his eyes. "You're wrong my son. You're upset and don't know what you're doing."

"Please," Peter butted in. "Please, don't call me 'my son'. You already have a problem with your father. Don't try to bring me in as your son."

"In time you'll understand if you open your heart up to my father's words."

Peter said nothing but his face was red with anger and his eyes showed nothing but hate. Jesus passed on down the line.

When Jesus came to Judas, he visibly became upset.

He said, "There is one of you as I said already who's not worthy of my trust. One of you will betray me."

The friends looked at each other as if they didn't know what Jesus meant. Jesus went on and picked up a bread roll, broke it in half and offered half to Judas. Jesus said to Judas, "Your secret is out now. It would be best if you left. Take this sop and go."

This was too much for the man. Judas broke down in tears.

"You've always picked on me," he said. "You've always saying I'm a traitor, but it's not me. You can't see the truth in front of your own eyes. You call yourself the Messiah, the one who knows all, yet your best friend is set to betray you. There's more unrest in this group than you can even imagine. I'm sorry Jesus, but I've had enough. You can only push me so much, and this time you've gone too far." With that, he snatched up his moneybag and fled out the room weeping.

The other men sat in stunned silence. They heard what Jesus said but didn't want to believe one of their own would betray him. Bartholomew rushed out after Judas but came back a moment later saying he disappeared. They all heard Judas and this was all too much.

Jesus continued as if nothing happened. He finished the ritual washing of feet. He cleansed everyone except Peter and Judas. He now appeared to want to end the feast quickly, as if he had something else important to do and a new part of the story was about to start. He said, "I am going to a place where you can't follow. Take my words and spread them amongst the people. Your words, your stories and your writings will be all that's left of my ministry. Be kind and you can change the future."

At this, they looked confused. Phil and Tom looked at each other with a knowing nod. They had an idea Jesus was referring to the future!

Jesus continued, "Father, take care of these men and bless them in the work they do. Guide them and protect them. Put love into their hearts where there may be hatred." Turning to the assembled men he said, "Go in peace and serve my father. Amen."

He stood up to leave. "Come with me," he said to Phil and Tom, "I need some fresh air. The atmosphere in here is tainted. I've no desire to stay here any longer. And I really need to talk with you privately."

## Chapter 5 \- The Last Night

Tom stood up and walked out into the cool night. Phil and Jesus joined him. Jesus showed him where they kept rush torches and he lit one on a brazier outside to brighten the way. He followed Jesus as he led them around the city wall. He felt as if there were robbers and thieves hiding in the shadows. There were noises and movements in the shadows that unsettled him. He walked carefully as the light from the torch was poor. At least there was some good moonlight and he was grateful that Jesus' route stayed mainly in the light of the many warming fires the sleeping pilgrims lit. Eventually he arrived at the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus told him that they could spend the night there. He saw that about half the disciples from the feast followed. He wondered what the disciples would be saying about the two newcomers. He knew they must have appeared strange. He knew the team at the Institute researched their robes and these blended in well. He was aware that they didn't look different. However, their speech was odd and Phil didn't speak Aramaic. They must have acted unusually. He wasn't used to walking around a town at night with only a feeble flaming torch to guide him. He wasn't used to staying in firelight to avoid robbers. He knew he could learn quickly, but for now, he was a stranger. He hoped the disciples would just put him down as a foreigner, rather than anything more. He could see Jesus accepted him. He hoped the others would too.

Tom settled by a group of rocks with Phil and Jesus. He was deep in his own private thought. It was chilly in the cool night air. He was a little edgy as the garden seemed alive with night noises and everywhere he could hear rustling. He heard crickets chirping and in the light of the waning Passover moon he saw bats flying around. In the distance, he could hear wild dogs calling in the night. The sky was completely clear and when Tom looked up, he could see more stars than he ever saw before in his life. He remembered the sky above the suburbs of Seattle used to be reasonably clear for stargazing, but in recent years, the light pollution had grown. Here in Jerusalem in 33 AD he could see it was different. He could only see the light from a few warming fires and distant oil lamps to break the darkness. Tom wondered about the marvel of creation and the man who was with them - the son of the man who made it all. His mind went down the familiar path of wandering, until the vision came again. By now, he was used to it and it worried him immensely. The hill, the three crosses and the three men on them all featured. The man in the middle with intense blue eyes clearly was Jesus, but the other two. He looked and in his mind scrutinized the faces of the other two men. They were indistinct now. They did look a little like Phil and himself, but he was uncertain. When he tried to look hard at the faces, they were unclear. Who were the two men? Maybe -

Tom did not know how to start the conversation. In fact, Jesus broke the awkward silence. He spoke in Greek.

"I know why you're here and what you think you've done. After I cleared the money changers from the temple, you went and saw Pilate." He nodded to Phil. "You thought you changed things, but in fact nothing changes, unless my father wants it to change. You can change the tiny details, but the grand plan is in his hands. Nothing anyone on earth can do can change that. My father intends me to die. He intends for people to tell my story. My legacy will endure. I have come here to talk to my father and ask him what I do with you two."

Phil replied, "You mean I didn't change history? You're saying your father foresaw when I went to see Pilate. The crucifixion isn't going to be my fault?"

Jesus smiled at him, "I don't know if my father saw you coming and visiting Pilate. I do know, however, that he has seen my crucifixion and that of two other men with me. As I said you can change small details by your actions, but my father arranges the grand plan. He has told me I have to prepare for tomorrow and it will be a day that none of us can imagine."

Tom said, "I have been having visions too. I have seen you on the cross and two other men with you. It scares me since I recognize these two men." He looked at Phil with a worried look on his face. He'd never shared that information with anybody.

Jesus replied, "I have been told there will be three men crucified. I do not know the names of the others. But I will pray for their souls, and I know my father will take care of them."

Phil said, "What are you saying, Tom? Who are the men on the crosses? Who have you seen in your visions? You say you recognize them. Who are they?"

Tom went silent.

Jesus offered him the answer. "He thinks he has seen himself and maybe you too, but I have already told you can change the small details. There are different, alternative futures. Make sure you follow the right path and follow the true Messiah and you will shape your own future. Don't worry about making up stories if they will protect you. That is not denying me," he added cryptically. "I am meant to die. Nothing you do will change that. People will tell the story. My legacy will endure."

With that, he fell silent and walked away to be on his own. He called back as he was leaving, "I need some time to pray to my father."

Father, give me the strength to do your will. On my own, I have no power. I would go with these strangers and look at their world. I know it is different from here. I know that you have other plans. You've given me glimpses of them. You have planned their paths carefully. You can foresee a wonderful future. With your help and guidance, I will spread your word. With your strength, I will endure the pain to come. When I have gone, please take care of the travelers. They will need help too. I can sense a great future for them and their descendants.

Tom was dumbstruck. Jesus said Phil hadn't changed history after all. It was vindication for Phil. He doubted Jesus though. He sharpened his skill as a fortuneteller earlier that day. Even without the unexplainable flashes in his mind, he could tell the people what they wanted to hear. He knew enough about the simple tricks of fortune telling to see what Jesus did. He recalled the words they used as they walked in on the Last Supper. After careful consideration, he decided it was not quite as miraculous as it all appeared. A clever charlatan could put it all together. Nevertheless, it was clever. Tom analyzed what Jesus said. He took Jesus' statements one by one. Jesus said 'I know why you're here and what you think you've done'. Tom wondered if he really did know. He used the phrase himself. It was a statement designed to gain the confidence of the people he addressed. He remembered Jesus said, 'You went and saw Pilate.' he reasoned one of the disciples could have observed this. Again, he thought it was not mysterious at all. He could sense Jesus was a clever fortuneteller. However, what he didn't know was if he any more than just that? His final remark struck Tom though. He said 'I am meant to die'. The depth of that remark alone-

"OK now we talk." It was Peter. Tom hadn't noticed him walk up.

"Sure," said Tom. "I've been waiting for you to continue. I sensed you wanted to tell us more. "

"Jesus' days on this earth are coming to an end," started Peter. "Before Jesus and I were a team. He talked to me about everything that was going on, asked my advice and I really felt that I was his best friend. Now he's constantly going on about his father. Joseph couldn't help him at all. Joseph is a feeble old man and cannot travel from Galilee. He cannot say that he's 'talking to him'. I told you that before. He and I have been together for so long. I've been his helper and his 'assistant' throughout all his so-called miracles. When he walked on water, I told him the rocks were there. I even climbed out the boat myself at one point to show him a particularly tricky jump between two rocks. He didn't even say thank you, despite the fact I missed the jump myself and ended up swimming. I felt a fool when the others dragged me out. I helped with the provision of the loaves and fishes. It took a lot of persuading for the local fishermen to give up their catch free and for the bakery to give us all that bread."

He continued, "The healing part was tricky. Some of the people who came wanting healing were truly sick. They were the hard ones. We tried to convince them we healed them. We managed to make them look healthy long enough for the crowd to think they were better. Most of them were just people who we planted in the crowd and pretended to cure."

Peter grew angry and his voice hardened. "Now he's going off on his own, not crediting me with anything. We used to be a team, now he runs everything himself. When I saw you two, I thought I'd had enough. It's not your fault. The situation is going to be nasty tomorrow and if you're associated with Jesus, you could find yourselves in trouble. You two have a choice to make and you don't have much time to do it. Either you can follow me; or you can leave very quickly. If you make neither of these choices, there will be problems for you. I have friends among the Romans and in high places here. I'm ready to turn on the Romans and Jesus too. Soon we will have a Galilee free from Roman rule and Jesus' stupidity. Then I'll become powerful and rich. I'd rather you joined me, but if you don't it won't be very pleasant for you. I'll repeat your choice. Follow me, be part of the team of the new Messiah, or stay with Jesus, and watch the old one die. Maybe you'll die with him." He said these words with hate and anger coming out.

"I have things to do. Think carefully on what I've said. When I see you again, you can tell me what you've decided. Make sure you stay on the right side."

Peter walked away from the two men. He stayed out of the feeble light cast by the occasional warming fire and brazier. He didn't use a torch and picked his way down the path carefully in the moonlight. He was going down from the hill towards the city when he met Judas. Judas tried to look the other way, but Peter stopped him.

"Judas, we need to talk," he started.

"I don't think I have anything to say to you," said Judas. He appeared to Peter to be extremely angry. Peter thought this might be time to make an ally.

"I really do need to talk. Jesus is finished. His time on earth is ending soon. There are plans you don't know that will soon dispose of him."

"Jesus thinks I am a traitor," complained Judas. "I can't take much more of his accusations."

"There is another way," said Peter.

"What's that?" said Judas. Peter could see he was curious.

"I'm starting a new group. As soon as Jesus has gone I'm going to start preaching myself."

"I've had enough of Messiahs," hissed Judas. "They only want to put their own name in front of people. It's all about their personal popularity. When they start receiving money for miracles, that's when they consider they're a success. The more money they take the bigger success they are."

"You're right," said Peter. "But of course the more money that comes in, the more there is to share between the disciples."

"Jesus doesn't share money with us," complained Judas.

"Jesus doesn't receive money. He won't take it from people he helps. He's a fool in this respect. He doesn't see that as his purpose. He's clearly failed."

"What can we do about it?" asked Judas.

"You don't have to do anything," smirked Peter. "I have it all under control. By this time tomorrow, Jesus will be dead."

Judas didn't flinch at that remark. He went on to ask, "And then what?"

"Just be ready for my call. I'll need some good disciples. Some I can trust. I promise I won't be preaching love. It will all be good hard fighting talk. We will rid ourselves of the Romans and take Judea back for ourselves. Then you can watch the grateful people pay me. Of course, you'll have your share."

"Count me in," said Judas. "I want to make sure Jesus is out of the way first," he added.

"Just wait until tomorrow," finished Peter.

With that, Judas left him. Peter hadn't been convinced. He wasn't sure that Judas agreed with him. He felt he won that argument too easily. He knew he'd have to watch Judas too. He may well try to save Jesus by informing him of Peter's plan. He watched as Judas walked away from the hill to the town. Peter saw him go and then he looked back up to the groups of disciples sitting there. Jesus was sitting alone. Phil and Tom were together. He thought, 'I'll make sure those two don't defeat me next time. Their days will end very soon.' he went his own way back into the town, carefully avoiding Judas. He knew how to stay in the shadows and he had a plan to hatch.

Tom watched Phil. He had been doing goldfish impressions ever since Peter left. His mouth was opening and closing silently. It was as if he wanted to say something and every time he started, he changed his mind. Eventually Tom spoke. "I don't think I believe him. He's a bitter, jealous man. Of course, there could be some grain of truth in what he's saying. They might have staged some of the miracles. But the weight of evidence -"

"I'm more confused than ever I was now," replied Phil. "I'm not going to say anything. I want to see how this all works out. I still have my ultimate plan. If Jesus dies here, what shape will history be in then? I'm deep in meddling with something I don't understand. How I now wish I'd never become involved with the project. If only I hadn't met Pilate. I wish I hadn't interfered where I had no right to." He sat down, with a completely disconsolate look on his face.

Tom moved away and sat in silence. The two men had more than enough to think about by themselves.

Jesus walked over to Phil. He said to him, "You won't understand these words yet. You are a very important man. You have a role that will last through the centuries. My father has talked to me about you. Your son and his sons in turn must keep my father's message pure and clean. They must deal with anyone who corrupts it. We have a word, Echmoth. Remember this. Echmoth is the wisdom of death. The knowledge of who must die. Tell your son. Tell him to know the wisdom of death."

As Jesus said, Phil didn't understand this at this time. Nevertheless, he held it in his heart. He didn't know it at that moment, but it would become important in the future.

I tell Philip the secret. He carries your word father. His son will know the wisdom of death. He will know Echmoth. He will keep your message pure. I know you will talk to him and you will guide him. Guide his son and his sons after for eighty generations. Thank you, father.

About an hour later, Tom was still thinking about the strange evening when Jesus went over and joined him. "You doubt me don't you Tom?" Jesus asked

"I don't know," Tom replied. "I really don't know. With the things I've learned in the last few hours, I really don't know. You know Peter's a very bitter and twisted man?"

"I know all about Peter. I know he's been talking to you about the things we used to do. He was a partner with me in the old days. That was before I discovered my father's power. The so-called miracles we used to do before as show tricks. Now, with my father's help, I find I don't need trickery. You yourself can read minds. You know how easy it is to be a fortuneteller. Either you can use trickery, or you really can see the future for people. You have that gift, the gift of vision. All the other so-called miracles are possible too if you have faith. I can help other people in a way you can only dream. It's all about believing in yourself. Remember that." He went on, "Let me ask you one question, and then you can doubt me all you like. Why did you leave Jerusalem when you were 13 and never thought of returning until today? Was it something to do with the deeds of your own father?"

This question struck Tom like a ton of lead weights. He was in Jerusalem as a child. They left very suddenly when he was 13. He never knew why. There was a veil of guilt hanging over his past. Both his parents were long dead and he completely lost touch with his brothers. He never considered going back, yet he knew his childhood was a happy one. They left Jerusalem in 1951; it was after his bar mitzvah. In fact it was straight after; the same night. They went to the party with cases packed, and travel clothes ready. No one told Tom anything about it in advance, yet as soon as the Rabbi finished the ceremony, while their friends were having the party, they left. They set off on that long journey; the long drive across the land to France; the boat to England and then train to London; the flight on the Pan American Constellation from London to New York; the long train journey to Oregon. He couldn't remember details from his life before Jerusalem. He knew he wasn't born there. How old was he when they arrived there? Where did they live before? He remembered a lot of travel, but few if any of the details. There were so many changes after they left Jerusalem. His father shucked off the religion, despite the fact his mother clung to it. He knew they changed their name. He remembered before he was Judas Tomas Jacobowitz. Now his name was Jackson. Tom Jackson. His brothers were Mikael and Joel. When they moved they became Mike and Joe. His father, he remembered was Leopold. After the move, his name was Lennie. His mother was always Rosa. She shunned her new name of Rose. Just before she died, she asked that the name on her burial plot should be Rosa Jacobowitz. His own past he did not understand. Angry black shadows loomed in the back of his memory. That was all. HOW DID JESUS KNOW? Not in his wildest dreams of being a fortuneteller could he fathom out how Jesus came up with that one. Unless -

His mind wandered and the vision came again. He saw the three men on the crosses. This time the faces of the men were clear; Jesus, Phil and himself. It was all too much for him. Tom did not know what to think. He wished he had not come back to the past. Too much of his own present was rearing up in his mind again. His loneliness was there and was coming streaming back. Here was a new place, a new time, yet his mind was the same. They say that you can change your location but your mind follows, and his mind followed. 60 years of doubts, wonderings, questions, and the bone-crunching loneliness followed him to the past. What was the point of anything? He was a sad old man whichever way you cut it. Initially he came to Jerusalem in 33 AD to meet a man he thought might be the earthly incarnation of God. When he arrived, he found he liked the place. He had a skill and an art that he hadn't practiced for so many years. He'd felt a part of something. When he'd met the disciples he'd found a man who was so like him, Jesus called him his twin. A plan started to grow in his mind. Maybe he could talk to Phil and stay. Maybe make a life here and live out his time happy. However, his past, or was it his future, wouldn't let him. It wouldn't leave him alone. Peter warned them off. He'd told them that Jesus was a fraud, a mere charlatan. Was it all jealousy on Peter's part or was there some truth in what he'd been saying? The doubts, the fears, they were all there. The vision was terrifying. It was like an alcoholic who thinks that by changing city, by changing country, he would be able to start a new life. Then in his new town he picks up the bottle again and he's off on the merry-go-round of alcoholism and the depression crashes back in on him. The four horsemen of the alcoholics, terror, bewilderment, frustration and despair, caught him. The thought of ending his life, here and now started to grow in his mind. He'd tried before and failed. The hosepipe from the exhaust of the Chevy Corvette through the window melted and he didn't die in the car that night. The overdose of pills made him vomit and he didn't retain enough in his stomach to kill him. Now he didn't have the means or the will to do anything. He started weeping uncontrollably.

Jesus came over again to him. He put his hand tenderly on his shoulder. "Be calm, my friend." He said soothingly. "You have a purpose greater than you can imagine. There is a book you admire, an account of my sayings. You know the words by heart, and there is no one here to write it. Without you, without your writings, 14 books will be missing from a bookshelf in a time to come. You have a ministry to perform. Even though you are an old man now, you can travel further than you imagine. I need someone to go to the Parthian Empire and spread the word. I need someone in Persia and India. Will you accept this challenge? With your grasp of languages and your knowledge of writing, you can become my disciple."

Tom's mind cleared. His crisis passed. He could have a purpose. The problems of his childhood suddenly became irrelevant. They were after all 2000 years in the future. He knew he would not be alone again. Jesus would be with him in spirit wherever he went. Moreover, he found a calling. He had a book to write and places to spread the word. In his mind came a suitable opening for the book. 'These are the hidden words that Jesus the Living spoke, and which Didymus Judas Thomas wrote down, and he said this: Whoever discovers the meaning of these words will not taste death!'

He settled down for the evening. He watched Jesus go off to one corner of the garden, talking to himself.

Father, give these men strength to work through this day. Give them the power to fulfill their destiny and give them the courage to shape their future in your glory.

Tom could see a few of the disciples who came with them were sitting in silent meditation around a fire. He saw Jesus go over to the fire more than once. He seemed to be waking the disciples up. In contrast, when he wandered over to where Tom was sitting he said, "Try and sleep; tomorrow will be a long day for all of us. I'm talking with my father about the future. I'm leaving the choice of what is to be with him. However, I am asking him if he can spare me the torment that is to come. You wouldn't exactly relish the thought of crucifixion would you? I'd far prefer to stay with you now and leave all this."

Tom could only agree. It wasn't a very pleasant future.

"Do come with us," replied Tom. We can save you from your destiny."

He sensed the moment arrive for them to talk Jesus out of going through with the ending. He waited for the reply, which never came.

## Chapter 6 \- The Denial

They were too late. The answer, indeed, never came. A terrible commotion spread through the garden. A gaggle of men burst in shattering the peace. Three older men, dressed in red robes lead a squad of armed soldiers and a number of townsfolk who obviously followed to see what the action was going to be.

Jesus stepped forward. "Who are you looking for?" he asked. (Under his breath, Tom heard him mumble the words "as if I didn't know")

One of the men in red robes answered him. "We are looking for Jesus of Nazareth."

Jesus replied, "That is me."

Peter stepped forward from the crowd. He came in unnoticed with the others. He kissed Jesus on the cheek, which was the sign that the soldiers wanted. They rushed forward and arrested him with the minimum of fuss. One of the soldiers handed Peter a cloth purse with some coins in it. The disciples tried to intervene in the arrest, but Jesus calmed them and told them not to become involved. He told them they had their training and knew what to do. They must go out in the world and spread his message. They should remain calm and that everything would unfold in the way the father intended. Rather roughly, the soldiers bundled him out of the garden and dragged him away. The general buzz was all about the arrest.

Peter said to the two travelers, "Come with me. You will see what I have in mind. I can also find out whom you follow. I want to make sure Jesus gets what's coming to him."

Phil met Tom's eyes. He could see fear. He knew Tom didn't want to align himself with Peter. "OK," he called. "I'm coming. Come along Tom. "

Tom was more reluctant. He sensed Peter was up to no good. He saw the kiss, although he reckoned Phil missed it. Things weren't going according to the script - if the bible was the script. He knew he must align himself with the right side. Nevertheless, he decided he didn't want to lose touch with Jesus and so went along with the other two.

Tom, Phil and Peter followed the soldiers at a cautious distance. The soldiers took Jesus to a house that Peter said belonged to the High Priest. They stayed outside and huddled around a brazier on some common land next to the house.

A small girl very poorly dressed and barefoot called out to Peter: "Hey you, didn't I see you with the man they just arrested? You're one of his followers." The soldiers guarding the house looked over to the crowd. Peter shrank away from the firelight.

"Yes, possibly, but I hate the man and want to see him die," Peter replied.

A little later, she called out again, "I saw you earlier this week in the streets with the man. You were laughing and joking. You're lying; he's your friend." She called out to the rest of the crowd, "I definitely saw him. He's one of those trouble makers."

Peter flushed and spoke up again quite forcefully: "I'm sorry girl, as I said I'm not one of his followers. Stop making up stories and mind your own business. One day soon, I want to talk to you all about the true way to salvation. Don't follow Jesus, you should listen to me."

One or two of the others in the crowd caught what was going on. One particularly loud man called out, "You have to be one of them. Your accent is Galilean. I can tell you're a stranger and all strangers are always trouble makers."

Peter replied, "You don't know what you're talking about, fool. I'm not a friend of Jesus. I'm not one of his disciples. Remember my name in the future. I'm Peter from Galilee. I'll be back to spread my word soon. Next time you hear of me it will be as Peter the Messiah. Jesus will be dead."

With that, Peter stood up and stomped off. In the background, the roosters in the town started to crow.

The Roman troops in Judea at the time were taken from the Sixth Legion. Their nickname was Ferrata. They were proud of this. It meant 'Iron Clad'. It indicated their nature - hard men. They fought under Julius Cesar in Syria before Mark Antony moved them to Judea. During the War of the Roman Republic, Octavian formed another sixth legion, Victrix, and they fought on opposite sides at the battle of Actium. Octavian won the fight and badly mauled the legion. Mark Antony fled to Egypt where he eventually committed suicide. The Senate awarded Octavian the title Augustus. The remnants of the defeated sixth legion Ferrata were sent back to Judea in disgrace. That was 60 years previously and they tried to live down the ignominy since then. They were now a hard and bitter unit. Their symbol of the she-wolf, suckling Romulus and Remus confirmed their allegiance to Rome. They fiercely supported their Prefect, Pontius Pilate. If there was a threat to the Roman rule in Judea, they were fearsome enemies. However, for the right price, a fighter with the right words and the right amount of money could buy their loyalty. Peter did just this and he used his influence carefully. Now he wanted to call a favor.

Tom saw Peter appear with four Roman soldiers. He knew trouble was close.

"Now's your chance to answer my questions," Peter demanded. "I'm not listening to any more of your stories. Come with us and we will find out the truth, one way or another."

Tom felt he was on dangerous ground. He knew that not only their own lives, but also the whole of history was at stake. Suddenly he saw his vision again, this time strong and clear. Jesus was on the center cross with his piercing blue eyes. The two men either side were undoubtedly Phil and himself.

One of the soldiers grabbed Tom; another Phil. Tom knew they could not fight their way out of this. The grip was tight and he could see the men were strong and used to combat. He had no chance of escape. The other two stood in front of them with their swords drawn. Tom was scared. The situation was bleak and there was no obvious solution.

"Come with us," they said.

Tom decided it was far better to go peacefully than try to struggle their way out of the situation. He knew neither of them could overpower their captor.

The soldiers took them to a guardhouse and held them there. More soldiers came in and a Centurion took over the situation. Peter remained in the room to watch what happened.

"My wench's brother here told me you're trouble makers," said the Centurion. "He says you follow that Jesus who is under arrest in the High Priest's house now. We have the means here to find out the truth. Don't lie to us."

He gestured around the room. Tom saw a number of whips and other instruments of torture.

The Centurion turned to Phil and said, "Where have you come from?"

Phil replied, "You know we're not from around here. That's obvious from our faces and accents. We've come from errrm Gaul. We are not supporters of Jesus." Tom could sense Phil's lack of conviction. He was losing his place and it was obvious he didn't know what to say next. He knew the soldiers would see through the words.

"You're lying to me," said the Centurion. "I know the words you speak are not true. You want to feel my cat?"

With that, he signaled to one of the soldiers. The man pulled a particularly viscous-looking multi-stranded whip off the wall. There was a crack and a whack as the whip landed on Phil's back. He cried out in pain.

"I'm not lying," called Phil in desperation. "We are from Gaul. We don't know Jesus at all."

The Centurion nodded to the soldier holding the whip. There was a swoosh and a sickening slap as the whip crashed into Phil's back for a second time. He cried out in pain.

"How much more of this do you want? Maybe you would like me to start on your friend. He is old and might not be able to take much before he dies. If you both continue to lie, we'll just crucify you with the King of the Jews."

Phil started again confidently, but it didn't last long. "For the third time, we're not supporters of Jesus. We heard about the troublemaker far away from here and came to make sure you deal with him properly. We want to make sure he has what's coming to him. The members of our sect are the followers of errrm"

He paused again. His mind went blank. A third crack of the whip and a cry of pain signaled that this answer wasn't accepted either. A lone rooster, perched on the roof of the guardhouse, joined in the morning chorus.

Tom jumped in. He had an idea. A momentary memory from when he read Jesus' fortune came back to him. His hand brushed his bag and he felt the wooden crucifix that was there. He needed a name for a Gallic leader. He needed to make it convincing. All he could think of was the name of the Gaul that Julius Caesar defeated almost a century before. Would the soldiers see the coincidence? Would they know their history? He hoped not.

"The members of our sect are the followers of Vercingetorix the Gaul," he proclaimed. His voice was confident. His words carried conviction. He wasn't looking forward to tasting the whip and he had to make absolutely certain the soldiers believed him.

"We are here to make sure the man called Jesus dies. We are elders of the sect. We have volunteered to come here and make sure this evil man receives his just punishment. We had a long journey, and now you treat us like this? It is an outrage. You should be glad we are here, not punishing us. Jesus is a false prophet and he is spreading a false message. We are looking for a new Messiah and a new purpose for our sect. Vercingetorix is a powerful man in Gaul and he will wreak a terrible revenge on people who try to stop us. He has sent us out to find the true prophet - the true Messiah. If you need proof of our mission, I have a talisman in my bag. This is what we seek."

The Centurion snatched the bag from him. He plunged his hand inside and pulled out a wooden cross. It was about 3 inches long and 1 1/2 inches wide. Mounted on the cross, intricately carved, was the figure of a man. The significance of this was plain to the soldiers. They recognized the crucified figure as Jesus.

The soldiers talked among themselves. Money bought loyalty from the soldiers, but Peter hadn't bought much. Faced with the threat of retribution from the leader of the Gauls and proof that Peter had made a fool out of them, they decided they wanted no more of this. Eventually the Centurion said, "We see now you are here to watch Jesus die. You are not troublemakers, not supporters of the King of the Jews. This figure is all the proof we need. You are free to go."

Peter added, "Why did you not say all this before? It would have saved you a lot of pain. I see that you're not a friend of his, but you've made me look a fool. I've lost face in front of these men. You had better stay out of trouble. I'll be watching you two. Your troubles are not over yet."

The soldiers released Phil and Tom and they walked out of the guardhouse. Tom could see blood oozing down Phil's back, staining his ripped robe. He was having trouble walking. Tom put his arm around him and supported him. Phil looked at Tom.

"That was close," he said. "I didn't think I could take much more of the whip. I wanted to tell them we were from the future, but they'd never have believed us. What made you think of showing them the crucifix?"

"I had a tip off from Jesus before. He'd told me it would come in useful. I hadn't realized in my wildest dreams that we were in so much danger."

"I really thought we were done for then. How can I thank you for saving my life?"

"It was my life too. They would have been whipping me next."

"It looks as if we've escaped our own crucifixion for now," said Phil.

"Maybe," murmured Tom. "You heard Peter."

He fell silent. He supported his friend and his mind wandered again, he saw the cross. There was Jesus, but this time either side of him were men he didn't recognize. He changed the future. The face of Jesus on the centre of the three crosses looked right into him. The intense blue eyes pierced his soul from the vision itself. He felt a sense of calm. He knew this would be the last time he saw this vision. They passed the test.

"Let's sort you out. We need to find some water to clean up your back and see if we can soothe the pain."

"There's plenty of time later. I don't want to lose Jesus, not now we've been through so much," replied Phil.

Thank you, father, for protecting the travelers. They remember the cross they brought with them. You tell me what they do and I have much comfort from their courage. They will be good people to pass on your word and your message.

After about an hour, Tom heard a great uproar in the grounds of the house. He watched as the soldiers dragged a prisoner out of the house and across the ground. The prisoner looked worn out and beaten. He'd obviously felt more than three blows from the whip. He was barely conscious and the soldiers manhandled him along by his arms; his feet dragged painfully and virtually lifelessly along the ground. There was no fight in him, just a resignation to his future. Tom saw it was Jesus. He watched as the soldiers hauled him out of the grounds of the High Priest's house, followed by some of the elders. The soldiers dragged the man away through the streets. Many of the crowd followed them. Tom and Phil stayed with the group. They had to remain discrete. Tom knew they'd had one brush with the authorities and he didn't dare risk another.

Eventually the crowd wound its way through the alleys and they came to a palace. Phil told Tom that this was the palace where Pontius Pilate lived. Tom knew Phil was here before three days ago, and could picture what was going on inside. Phil told him that the trial would take place in a large room with a chair, in the fashion of a throne at one end. In his mind, he could see paintings on the walls and mosaics on the floor. Servants would probably be standing around with food for Pilate to eat. Tom could imagine the prisoner held in front of Pilate, stripped, humiliated and on trial. Pilate would have been sitting on the throne, dressed in his finery. Phil described him as an arrogant man, and large in stature for these times. He also said he was incredibly fat. Tom knew that the people hated Pilate, because he was an emissary for Rome. He knew of his reputation for being harsh to members of new religions.

Pilate had a simple job. The High Priest accused Jesus of sedition and Pilate had to find out if the man was stirring up trouble against Rome. Nothing else mattered to him. Jesus' torment was about to ratchet up to a new level.

To Tom's horror, Peter appeared and joined them.

"I'm still watching you," he said. "I know what you told the soldiers, but I want to make sure you don't mess up my plans. Be very careful what you do and say."

After a while, Pilate waddled out in the courtyard accompanied by his servants. Shortly after, some soldiers hauled Jesus out to stand next to him. He was naked, and bloodstained from his wounds. He had been badly tortured somewhere during his trials. A servant handed Pilate a slab of meat. Tom listened as Pilate addressed the crowd.

"I have before me a man who you call Jesus," Pilate said. "Your leaders tell me that he is the King of the Jews, and that he stirs up trouble for Caesar. I spoken to him at length and think you are all wrong. I have decided to let him go." The servant handed him a chicken leg, which he started to devour.

There was a huge roar of approval from the crowd. Phil and Tom couldn't believe what they just heard. The place was in uproar.

Then Peter stepped forward and called out, "It's not true. I've heard this man say he's King of the Jews and we're to rise against you. He says he'll lead us."

A few people cheered at this remark, and continued eating as if this was more important to him than the reaction of the crowd around him.

Another man called out, "He's been all over the town telling us it was time to kick out the Romans."

More people joined in the clamor.

Peter whispered to Phil and Tom, "I'll show him. This is my chance to give him a lesson he'll never forget. This is the last we'll hear of this so-called Messiah. Before today is out, he'll be dead. You will have your wish, and your sect can find their new Messiah in me." After that Tom barely followed what happened, it was all too intense.

More and more men joined in the accusations, so much so that the crowd stopped supporting Jesus. The cries were coming up thick and fast for the execution of Jesus and Peter was in the forefront leading the uproar. Pilate didn't appear interested. He was still gorging himself on chicken and now called for a goblet of wine.

There was a custom during Passover that the Governor could release one man of the crowd's choosing. Pilate spoke to the crowd. "In accordance with the custom at this time of year, I can release one prisoner who has been tried and found guilty. I can release Jesus if you wish." Then he continued with his meal. Clearly, he didn't care about Jesus; all he wanted to do was feast.

Peter yelled out loudly, "You also have Barabbas; he's the one we'll pick. Release the man Barabbas."

"Jesus is the one on trial here now. I tried Barabbas yesterday and found him guilty of insurrection. We're only talking about Jesus."

There was a roar from the crowd.

"The choice of release of prisoner is up to us isn't it?" called out Peter to the crowd. "Jesus is a traitor to the Jews and a danger to the Romans. He's been saying one thing in front of our faces, and then plotting behind our backs. Remember what he did in the temple the other day."

The memory of the throwing out of the moneychangers was still fresh in many people's minds.

"This man is right," yelled a man in the crowd. "How are we to buy our animals for sacrifice?"

"He's making life very hard for us. I think he's working for the Romans."

"Let's see Jesus perform one of his miracles and climb off the cross."

"I say Pilate should free Barabbas," bellowed Peter.

"We want Barabbas," roared the crowd

"Jesus is a traitor to the Caesar," bellowed Peter. He was now very red in the face and obviously carried the sympathy of the crowd.

"Jesus must die."

"Give us Barabbas"

The men started a general chant of "Barabbas, Barabbas."

Everyone could see that trouble was brewing. Pilate turned to one of his servants who went scuttling away. The man came back quickly with a large bowl of water. By now, the guard forcibly held back the crowd. Pilate washed his hands in the bowl of water to get the grease from the meal off them, and dried them on a towel. He raised his hands and the crowd fell silent.

"Citizens, I did not realize this man was so dangerous. I thank you for pointing out where he lied to me. Now I do not know who lies. Is it him or is it you?" he pointed to one man in the crowd. "You Nathan, you're a Sadducee and it's not unknown for you to start trouble."

He pointed to several more. "You're all associated with problems and I have no confidence. It's clear you want me to sentence this man to death. So I will, but only to appease you all. I have no proof that he's done wrong. However, I don't really care. It's up to you now, what you do with him. Take him away. You're all welcome to him. Do what you will with him."

With this, the mob grew rowdy. Tom saw Peter laughing almost hysterically. It was hard for Tom to tell who was doing what.

A crowd of people ran up onto the platform where Pilate was standing. They grabbed Jesus and pulled him down into the mob. The soldiers tried to take him back, but the mass drew him further and further away from the dais. They started to beat him with fists and sticks. One of them wielded a short cattle whip and he laid into the back of Jesus, tearing the flesh horribly. Peter took a thorn branch from a nearby tree and wrapped it into a circle. He rammed it on the man's head and pressed until beads of blood appeared. He called out mockingly, "Here's a crown for you King." One of the servants came up with some purple cloth from Pilate's chambers. He started to wave this around saying it was the King's clothes. The mob became fascinated and wound the cloth around Jesus. They were all chanting "King of the Jews." Peter repeatedly spat on his former friend. The crowd rioted, and the soldiers had immense problems trying to restore order. Eventually they surrounded the prisoner and took him back from the crowd. If they hadn't Jesus wouldn't have lived to fulfill the sentence Pilate bestowed on him.

Some servants brought a beam from the bowels of the palace. It was around 6 feet long and 6 inches square. It weighed over 200 pounds. A fit man would have found it hard to carry. Jesus was far from fit after his ordeal. It was hard enough for him to walk on his own. Let alone carrying such a weight of wood. The troops roughly dragged him up to his feet. They pushed the crowd back and the death party started out of the house. In the city ordinances, it stated that any punishment such as this must take place outside the city walls. With a rebellious mob on their heels, the soldiers forced their man to walk. According to the tradition, the condemned man had to carry his own cross beam. In this case, with the trouble and the weakness of Jesus, the soldiers dragged it themselves out of the palace.

Tom, Phil and the whole death party set off down the narrow alleys. Tom worked his way a little ahead of Jesus, who was moving terribly slowly. He knew the trial, the beatings and the torment must have slowed him. After a while at one of the street corners, they saw Judas, the disciple from last night. He walked out of the Supper and Tom hadn't seen him since then. Tom recognized him and he called out to him. Judas walked over and joined him.

"I am desperately upset about last night," Judas began. "Jesus said many wrong things about me. He keeps saying I'm a traitor. I'm not. Peter's the dangerous one. He's been telling me things. I came here to warn Jesus but I see I'm too late."

"We know that too. We've had a run in with Peter ourselves," replied Phil.

"It nearly cost our lives," commented Tom. He went on to ask, "What will you do now?"

"I have no idea. I have been following Jesus for a long time and he's been a big part of my life. I don't want to see him go like this. I just wish I could reconcile myself with him."

The three men were ahead of the crucifixion party, which was going particularly slowly at this time. There was a small hill to climb and Jesus was suffering. The soldiers gave Jesus the beam to carry himself and he was dragging it painfully slowly along the streets. As he passed them, he stumbled. Judas rushed out and went to pick up the beam. Tom saw him look straight at Jesus' face. He watched, as Jesus' eyes appeared to bore into Judas soul.

"I'm sorry," Judas said to Jesus. "I've let you down."

"No, I've let you down," said Jesus. "I really thought you were the one who was going to betray me. Now I see I was wrong all the time. I know now your heart is pure."

Judas went forward and kissed Jesus. "You never washed my feet last night." He looked at Jesus and saw he was weeping. Tom saw one of his tears fall on Judas' foot.

"You are forgiven my son. I just pray to my father you have the heart to forgive me too. I have committed the greater wrong."

Judas answered this by leaning forward and kissing Jesus on the cheek. He then bent down to pick up the beam. One of the soldiers pushed him away roughly. The soldier said, "The prisoner will carry the beam. That's part of his punishment. Be off!"

Judas looked over at Tom and smiled. He was reconciled with his master. He walked away down the street. From the top of the hill came a shout. Judas turned round and saw, too late, a large cart that broke loose. It was careering down the hill. He tried to run out of its path, but he tripped and fell over. The cart struck Judas and one wheel went right over his body, squashing his abdomen. The result was graphic and disturbing. Tom suddenly felt very sick. Several of the crowd actually vomited at the sight. Alas for Judas, it was over. In the end though, he reconciled himself with the man he followed for so long.

The crowd thinned. The tragedy had been too violent for many of them. Although used to brutality and accidents, this one was particularly gruesome. The soldiers managed the last of the walk in a much more orderly fashion. The walk from Pilate's Palace to the place of the crucifixion was, very hard for Jesus. He'd been whipped, mocked, and humiliated. He'd never accepted any charges, but equally he'd never denied them. When Pilate asked him if he was King of the Jews, Jesus merely said, "You say I am." Now he paid the penalty. The distance from Pilate's Palace to the place of execution outside the city was almost two miles. It ran through twisting alleys and dusty paths. It took almost superhuman strength to drag the cross beam but somehow Jesus managed. While he was staggering along the road, Jesus stumbled many more times. Eventually after almost an hour, the death party arrived at the city gate. Just outside it was a hill, which was right by the side of the main road out of the city. People said it looked like a skull, Golgotha, the place of Jesus' crucifixion. It was a slight hill with a dusty top. The whole area was open. There were some newish earthen mounds just over the hill on the far side. These were burial plots. Several soldiers arrived earlier at the top of the hill. They dug out three postholes. Some workers rammed in the vertical posts and erected a wooden scaffold around them before the death party arrived. Following Jesus were two other men, also carrying cross beams. When they arrived at the top, the soldiers prepared to set up all three.

The relief was plain to see in Tom's face. It was not good that two other men were going to die, but at least it wasn't going to be Phil and himself.

## Chapter 7 \- The Crucifixion

Crucifixion is a barbaric way to put a man to death. The victims die from a combination of many things but not, as people sometimes say, from suffocation. In some cases, people die from shock, in which case it can be relatively quick. Others, however, die from sepsis contracted from the nails hammered through the flesh. The third contributing factor can be dehydration. In either of these latter cases, it's a very long business. It sometimes takes days for the victim to die. Sometimes the soldiers break the legs of the victims, to speed up the death. The intention was to make it harder to breathe, but in fact, it just increased the shock.

In Jesus' case, they weren't going for fast; they were going for the agony. Some workers tied the beam to the vertical post. Soldiers nailed his hands and feet to the cross and they started to strike the scaffolding. At the last moment, Peter came out of the crowd and nailed a sign on the top of the cross saying "Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews," in three languages, Aramaic, Greek and Latin. He then went back into the city. The workers removed the scaffolding and the final torment began.

Tom and Phil were the only ones left from the supper the night before to watch Jesus end his days. Now that Peter finally left them, they could talk openly without fear of being overheard and starting a renewal of their problems.

Tom turned to Phil, "I knew Peter bore a grudge after what he said last night. I never realized it was that deep."

"He's a very disturbed man," Phil said. "The bible doesn't mention any of it. I wish we'd an opportunity of stopping him."

"He's the one truly responsible for Jesus' death. Without his interference, Pilate would have let him go free."

"Remember what Jesus said," remarked Phil. "You can't change the major facts in history. If Peter wasn't here, something else would have happened to make the predictions come true."

"Peter will have his just deserts. I have a feeling something will happen to him. I wonder what the future will say about the man who is the real traitor. He is the one who should be reviled instead of Judas?"

It was still early in the day, around 9 a.m., when the crucifixion started. The men to the left and right were both thieves. One of them called out to Jesus, "I saw it all, I know you're innocent, but I also know you're special. Please pray for me master."

Truly, I say to you. Today you will be in Paradise. I will not be joining you there. I have my own destiny.

Phil and Tom knew this was going to be a harrowing day. Tom had no idea what was going through Phil's mind. His original plan to put history back to rights seemed to have been unnecessary. Yet Tom thought Phil hadn't finished yet.

"I can't act too soon," said Phil. I know the man is in terrible pain, but I really have to wait. For my plan to work, it all has to look real."

"What are you talking about?" replied Tom.

"I really didn't want to let the secret out before, but I've had a plan ever since we came here. I'd still rather not go into too many details as it's a bit provisional and it depends on the timing being right. Can you ask around the crowd from time to time for a man called Joseph who comes from Aramathea?"

"You mean the man in the bible who gives his own tomb for Jesus to be buried in?"

"That's the man," replied Phil. "I really need to talk to him."

Tom found it an extremely unpleasant day. Occasionally Jesus would call from the cross, but his words were unintelligible even to Tom. At around 2 p.m., Tom was talking to the crowd and he found Joseph. He told Tom he came into the area, as he heard about the crucifixion and he wanted to know what was going on. He was a follower of Jesus' teachings and heard him speak a number of times. Now he wanted to see if he could relieve the man's suffering. He sat down with Tom and Phil joined them.

Joseph explained the situation to Tom. "According to the law, only a close family member can take the body of a crucified man. If there are no close relations, the soldiers will simply dump the body in a mass grave. I can't stop the pain, but at least I can provide for the man I admire. I went out and I've bought some fine linen to wrap the body. I saw Pilate this morning. I convinced him I was a relative of Jesus' and I want to claim the body. Pilate told me that the whole affair sickened him, and he agreed to the request. He appears just to want an end to this miserable business."

Phil said to Tom in English, "Ask him if we can have the body? Tell him about our own tomb."

"What tomb?" asked Tom.

"Please just ask him."

Tom said to Joseph, "We'd like to take the body. We have our own tomb and can minister to the body according to the law. We'd appreciate your help, but we really seek this indulgence."

"You want me to do what?" Joseph asked.

"I'd like you to allow us the honor of putting Jesus in our own rock tomb," translated Tom. Phil was prompting him gently.

"And why should I do that?" asked Joseph. "Is the man a friend of yours?"

"In some ways we're responsible for what has happened. Jesus talked about it to us last night. It's his last wish," replied Tom.

"Well, I really don't know what to think. Your request is an odd one. You say you have your own tomb?"

"Yes, it's all ready in the Garden of Gethsemane, not far from here. We can take the body when Jesus finally dies and we would be honored to allow the man the most dignified burial we can."

"You can assure me that you will make sure the man is buried properly, in accordance with the law and the scriptures?"

"I can assure you Jesus will receive all the proper treatment and be looked after to the very best traditions," replied Phil slightly cryptically. Tom translated this faithfully.

After a lot more discussion, the deal was agreed. Joseph would stay there and allow the men to help him take the body after it all finished. He would use the paper he obtained from Pilate to take the body. When they had the body, the three of them would take it to Phil's tomb and bury it there. It was a harrowing deal, and Phil looked visibly relieved after it was over.

"That's part one of the plan," he whispered in English to Tom. "Now for the hard part; we have to make Jesus die before his body is too ravaged by the crucifixion."

He fumbled in his cloth bag, which he wore since they left America, and produced a small stone bottle. "See if you can find a long stick and a drinking sponge."

Tom hunted around the area and found that the soldiers had just the thing. He found a sponge poked on the end of a stick that he could use to give the victim a drink. He knew if the soldiers were feeling callous they would taunt the victim with a dry sponge, or even one soaked in gall and vinegar. Tom gave Phil the stick and watched as he soaked the sponge in the liquid from his bottle.

"Now we have to persuade Jesus to drink," he said. "I hope he's not too far gone."

At that moment, a Centurion came forward with Peter. Tom recognized him as the one who brutally questioned them earlier that day.

He called up to Jesus in a loud voice, "I've been told what you've been saying. You said I raped my wife. You're a fool Jesus I love -" he paused, searching for a name. He looked at Peter and carried on. "I love the woman. Peter took a generous dowry from me for her and we are happy together. I paid him because I respect the woman. I know I could have just taken her, but I have some regard for her and her family. Ask anyone if you don't believe this man or me, people will tell you I'm honest. You've not taken care of your best friend and now you'll suffer. Take this 'King' and let's see one of your miracles save you now."

With that, he thrust his spear into the side of Jesus and Tom saw the man on the cross gasp in pain. He saw Peter dance up and down, giggling like a small child. Tom suspected he had been planning this final insult for a long time and now his plan worked.

Tom heard Jesus quietly call back, "Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing." There was power and strength in his voice, despite the ravages his body had undergone.

Father, this is too much for me to bear. I counted Peter as my friend and my confidant. The Roman confuses him with his lies. He's stupid, and misguided, but please have mercy on his soul. Your will be done.

"What's that sad old man going to do now? I don't want his forgiveness," said Peter. Then he went over to Jesus and held up a cup. Phil recognized it as the same one from the night before. The silver cup with the designs on it. He held it up to Jesus' side and caught some of the blood that dripped from the spear wound in it.

"This is the Passover I wanted from you. It is the day when your power passes over to me."

With that remark, Peter's face turned a bright shade of red. He dropped the cup, which rolled away down the hill. He started panting and his fist clenched over the middle of his chest. He screwed up his face in obvious pain. Then he fell to the ground and stopped moving. Phil ran forward and checked his pulse. There was none.

"He's dead," Phil called out to Tom. "It looks like a massive heart attack."

Tom saw there appeared to be a word scratched into the dirt by the body. That word was simple, yet he didn't understand it. It said 'Echmoth'.

"Do you think that death was through natural causes or God's intervention?" asked Tom rhetorically.

The soldiers came up and carted away Peter's body. The centurion who stabbed Jesus was talking to them. He went over to the body and patted it down. He found something in the clothes, and pulled out a small cloth bag.

He spoke to the corpse in front of him, "I'll have what's mine now. You wanted me to come up and taunt Jesus. You told me you'd give me the blood money if I made his last few moments hell. I spoke the words you told me to recite, and now you're the one man who has died. I've never loved the woman. I don't even remember her name. She's a Jewish whore. I'd never pay a single coin for her. Thirty pieces of silver. It was your pay for giving Jesus to us. Now I'll take it back for the trouble I've had. It's an insult to think a centurion would pay a dowry to a Jew!"

He paused and seemed to think to himself. "She was good in bed, so I'll go into town and take her too for my trouble." He turned to the other soldiers. "You all do what you want with the body. It's Jewish trash anyway, like the girl."

He spat on the body, kicked it and walked away. The remaining soldiers stripped the corpse, dumping it unceremoniously by the collection of mounds on the other side of the hill.

Tom watched all this and was desperately waiting to see Phil put his plan into effect. He knew time was running out. He saw the soldiers go down the hill a little and they started to throw dice for Peter's clothes. Phil judged it safe to approach the cross. He looked up at Jesus, who opened his eyes and returned his look.

Jesus said simply, "I thirst."

Phil held up the stick to Jesus mouth and saw him taste the sponge. As Phil pushed it at his mouth, Jesus sucked and licked on it to drink as much as he could of the precious fluid. Tom wondered how parched he must be after many hours under the hot sun.

Jesus looked down at the men below and said, "It is finished."

Then he called out in a loud hoarse voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

With that, he closed his eyes and died. Tom watched as his head fell on to his chest, he stopped breathing and Tom saw his body go limp.

Joseph called to the soldiers, "He's dead. Cut down the cross. Let me take the body and give it a decent burial. You can have his clothes. We have clean linen to wrap the body in." Tom saw him hand over the almost compulsory bribe and this seemed to do the trick. The soldiers started to dismantle the cross.

After what seemed an agonizingly long time the soldiers laid the cross on the ground. They hauled out the nails from Jesus' hands and feet and he was free at last. Patently not breathing, and completely lifeless, the body was stripped. Joseph brought his friend Nicodemus with him and introduced him to Phil and Tom.

Nicodemus said, "I met you," nodding to Tom, "yesterday it was, in the market. You were telling fortunes. You told me I'd have a very good friend and stay by him, despite anything that happened. I have spent all my life alone, and recently I started to follow Jesus. I considered this man to be my only true and faithful friend and yet now he's dead. What do you think now Mister Fortuneteller? I don't have any other people I call a friend."

Tom said nothing and just blushed. In his mind, he remembered the vision. He saw the hospital bed and the kiss to the friend. He focused on those piercing intense blue eyes. He saw the vision again. The eyes bored right through him. Without knowing the reason, he put his hand in his bag and pulled out the small wooden crucifix.

"I've carried this for over 50 years," he said, "and it's been a comfort to me. It's saved my life once here. I have a feeling I need to move on. Please take it in remembrance of your friend. I know it will give you comfort." He handed the crucifix to Nicky.

Joseph produced the papers from Pilate, which gave him the authority to take the body, and the four men wrapped it in the linen and carried it reverently all the way to the Garden of Gethsemane.

At this point, Tom suddenly understood Phil's plan. Phil wanted to send the body to the future. This would be the proof mankind needed of the existence of the Messiah. Tom wondered what they would do with the body of a crucified man, one with the marks of a crown of thorns in his head, and the marks of whipping and torture. What would they make of the spear wound in its side? Would they carry out a post-mortem on the body and find food remnants from Jesus' time? Would they look at pollen on the body and show it was first century? He knew it might be possible to identify the corpse. He did ponder the existence of the Turin Shroud. He thought scientists identified this miraculous piece of linen as the burial shroud of Jesus. If Tom arranged to transport the wrapping linen to the 21st century, he wondered what would happen to the shroud of legends.

They took the body to the time capsule, which Tom now realized was Phil's tomb. They laid the body inside and prepared it for the proper burial. By now, it was almost 5 p.m. and the sun was low in the sky. Joseph paid his final respects and placed the appropriate unction in the cloth. He and Nicky sat next to Jesus and prayed. Phil and Tom sat outside and looked at the body of the man they came to talk out of dying. In this respect, they failed. The plan, which brought the men to 33 AD, was unnecessary and they would not see the resurrection.

Tom turned to Phil. "I've been thinking a great deal about the past and the future. In 2012, I'm an old man with no purpose. I have no friends and the day will come soon when I close the door on my house and stay inside all the time. Yesterday morning, back in Seattle I fell asleep daydreaming at a red light. I only woke up when someone blared their car horn at me. I'm becoming a danger. Here I found a skill I previously forgot. I can be a fortuneteller. I never told you while I was doing it, but I have flashes, visions of the people's future. I will make money here for food and shelter and have some fun. What would be the consequences of not going back? Would the capsule still transport correctly?"

Phil smiled at him and said, "Don't worry about it. I suspected you wouldn't go back. As far as we know, the contents of the rock are irrelevant as long as they are not metal. When we stripped Jesus, I checked the body and made sure he had nothing metallic left. If you don't go back, it won't matter. To be honest with you, I decided a long time ago to stay here myself. I want to see how this story pans out. I can learn Aramaic, and will fit in soon. What I'll do for money, I'm not sure. Maybe you can support me or teach me your skills? However, whichever way you look at it, I want to stay. Maybe I'll write. I can feel that some of this needs to be written down."

Tom looked at him. "I wonder," he said. "I wonder who the real author of the Gospel according to Thomas is - It's a weird coincidence my former name was Judas. The beginning of the book is, 'These are the hidden words which Jesus the Living spoke, and which Didymus Judas Thomas wrote down'. I'm Judas Thomas and I have a sort of twin in this era. When will I die? Who knows?"

"And maybe there could be a Gospel according to Philip too," interrupted an excited sounding Phil.

"There is. I've read it and it's interesting to say the least," said Tom. "We can write down our interpretation of what we've seen today. Moreover, we can tell the other disciples what they want to hear, rather than necessarily telling them the truth. Maybe we might put the story back to how we first knew it as children. We might disguise the role Peter played in the passion. He's a revered figure in 2012. At least he is in the future we know. We're the only eyewitnesses to the whole affair. Do we tell it like it is, or like we want it to be? Now all we have to do is wonder about the body. What will happen when the rock goes back? How will your colleagues explain a dead body, and one that's so horribly mutilated? Will your colleagues back in 2012 have it identified as Jesus?"

"What do you mean a dead body?" asked Phil. He turned and Tom saw on his face a genuine expression of surprise.

Tom never answered that question.

Exactly at that moment, Joseph came out from the rock 'tomb' and interrupted the two men. "We must be going now. Can we help you to close the tomb? The door is a heavy slab and it will take more than just the two of you to roll it into place."

"LOOK" exclaimed Tom.

With that, he saw the rock started to fade.

Tom screamed desperately at Nicky, "Get out NOW."

Nicky, who was still sitting inside, was deep in prayer and meditation and merely looked up. Tom saw his face change, the look of surprise. He watched the rock shimmer and continue to fade, as did the man and the dead body inside it.

There was a flash and a bright light came from Nicky's chest. The door, which none of them closed, stayed solid. As the rock finally disappeared, all that remained was the stone door slab. It rolled a little from where it was, and then fell over-

# PART 2 \- JOE

## Chapter 8 - The Doctor

##

When Joe received the telephone call this particular Monday afternoon, it didn't surprise him. He could tell immediately that the caller needed his help.

"Hello, can I speak to Doctor Joe please?" it was a woman who sounded extremely efficient.

"Speaking. Who's calling?"

"My name is Tondust, Melissa Tondust. I'm from the Smith Baxendale Research Institute in Portland, Oregon. I need to enlist your services, Doctor. But before I continue, can I press on you the extreme privacy of this engagement."

"As long as you can afford my fees, I will keep any confidence," replied Joe. He thought, 'nothing like putting the important part of the deal up front.'

"The Institute is expecting a V.I.P. patient. I anticipate he will arrive here tomorrow. Are you available at the moment to take on a new case?"

"I'm not working at the moment, so that sounds convenient," replied Joe. "I charge $100,000 per day, plus travel and expenses. For a new client I require $100,000 as a deposit in advance and then daily payment."

"Your fees are of no concern to us; the Institute has ample funding." Melissa dismissed the exorbitant fee as if it were pennies. She continued, "His injuries will probably be severe, and we desperately need him to survive. My connection gave me your name and said you were the best for dealing with patients with multiple traumas; we need an expert in this case. The main thing is that you have to treat him at the Institute. I don't think it will be possible to move him to a hospital or bring him to your clinic. His injuries are likely to be too severe."

Joe knew all about the 'not moving the man' ploy. What this usually meant was that the patient was too well known and that the appearance at a hospital would cause press problems, or maybe police complications.

"Would you like me to set off now? The situation sounds urgent."

"No, as I said the patient won't arrive until tomorrow, at 1pm. Perhaps you can arrange to arrive here around noon. I can explain more then. I know it sounds mysterious, but I'll reveal everything to you when you arrive. This will give you time to travel here leisurely. I understand you usually travel by your own private jet. I can have a car meet you at Hillsboro airport, Oregon. That's only a few miles from us."

This was all standard for Joe, except the idea that the patient would arrive in about 18 hour's time. He was used to emergency calls. He rarely had this much notice.

Melissa went on to tell the Doctor that the Institute had a fully equipped medical room. He would not need to bring any equipment himself, besides some spare clothes and personal medical instruments. She said that the engagement might last several days and they would put the Doctor in one of the best hotels if he were willing to stay in the area. Joe gave her his bank details, and she ended the call with a repeat of the request for secrecy.

Less than thirty minutes later, he received a call from his bank. He whistled happily, as he put the phone down. The Smith Baxendale Institute has just deposited $250,000 in his account.

Joe was a successful doctor. Over the length of his career, he became one of the foremost trauma surgeons in America. He officially retired last year, but still practiced if the client was willing to pay enough. He mainly treated famous people who wanted the best, yet wanted to remain anonymous. If someone shot and wounded a notorious gang leader, they would contact Joe. When a chart-topping pop singer abused his wife and there were wounds to heal, he hired Joe. If a Hollywood actor were involved in an accident, while under the influence of some illegal substance, Joe would receive a call to heal the damage. His fees were extremely high and as a result, he was extremely wealthy. However, he was very discrete and very good at his job. He had connections with all the right people to hush things up.

Joe lived in the celebrity suburb of Glendale, Los Angeles, California. He married his wife at the rather early age of 18, but he needed to leave the family house. His father died two years previously and his mother was smothering him. Although he was devoted to her, he needed his freedom. His wife Sheila was a good Jewish girl from a rich family, and they ensured the newlyweds were well looked after. His in-laws put him through medical school and he soon graduated as a doctor. He went on to become a trauma surgeon. His big break came one day when treating a man for gunshot wounds at the hospital. The police interfered and Joe told them that while this man was his patient, they could not interfere. After he completed the surgery, Joe smuggled the man out of a back entrance, much to the annoyance of the surveilling police. It turned out the man was the brother of a local mob leader, and Joe suddenly became the mob's hero. They set him up in private practice, so they could access his skills confidentially and not worry about interference from the authorities or press. They paid for his first clinic as long as he treated their members. Soon word spread that Joe was discrete and good at his job. He had his first A-list celebrity client - a famous singer whose wife mysteriously sustained a broken arm. He set the arm, soothed the bruises and dressed the flesh wounds. He never asked a single question about the incident and the paparazzi never heard about it. It made his career. From that day on, his reputation spread. He had a plentiful stream of clients. He soon opened a new clinic on the outskirts of Los Angeles. However, he was hampered by the fact this center did not have operating facilities. He still needed to use the local hospital for anything serious. One celebrity requested an emergency operation on a sixteen-year-old girl. Joe persuaded a friend at the hospital not to mention the girl's condition and the resulting fee set him up with the clinic he needed. It was in Glendale and had full operating facilities to handle any trauma. From that moment on, his future was secure. He was private, discrete and the best.

Now, almost forty years since his first customer with the gunshot wound, he had retired. He still treated his favorite clients - the patients that paid the most. He was enjoying the comfortable lifestyle that his chosen career brought him. He owned a large house, but sadly no children.

Sheila, Joe's wife, adored him. She was a true and faithful friend. If anything, she grew closer to him as Joe grew closer to his work. He would often be away for days at a time, performing emergency surgery on clients, while Sheila waited for him. It wasn't her fault that they didn't have children; she was fertile. Joe was unable to father a child. Although she desperately wanted to be a mother, she never wavered from his side. True, he treated her well financially. She had everything she desired, from diamonds to expensive cars. They went on luxury holidays together. Not long ago they returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy land, where they stayed in five-star comfort. For once, Joe stayed with her the entire tour. However, many times, Joe left the trip early to come back for a patient, and she would continue her visit alone. She never grumbled once. She looked after his every need when he was at home, and tried to help him as best she could when he was away. Her need was simple, to have a husband who loved her. She nearly achieved this with Joe. In return, Joe bought her gifts. His displays of true love and affection to her were rare. Joe often had lustful thoughts, but he reckoned they were normal. However, he never had an affair, and was proud of that fact. His need was money and he would do anything he needed to earn more.

He was loyal to his customers who paid him well and vindictive towards anyone who crossed him. One client reneged on a particularly lucrative deal. Joe spent a long time treating a victim of a rather complicated accident that happened at the client's house. The victim, aged 15, had a drug and alcohol level inside him that should have killed a horse. Somehow, he went swimming late in the night despite the fact he couldn't swim. He stopped breathing in the pool. Someone sexually abused him. The boy also suffered several broken ribs and severe bruising. Joe brought him back from near death, detoxed him, fixed the broken bones and tended the bruising. All would have been well if the man paid the fee of 1.2 million dollars. He could easily afford it. However, he refused, calling Joe a thief and a crook. A week later, after an anonymous tip off, the police raided the man's house. They found vast quantities of child pornography on the man's computer. The man's own bedroom was the backdrop in some of them. The celebrity protested someone planted the evidence. He blamed an engineer who was in his mansion earlier the same week, and who could have tampered with his computer. No one knew where the tip off came from. The police charged the man with possession of child pornography. The judge threw the charge out, due to an inability on the part of the police to find the engineer and reasonable doubt as to whether anyone planted the evidence. However, the scandal devastated his career. Two days after his release from custody, the pool boy found the man's body; it was face down floating in the self-same swimming pool. The coroner recorded an open verdict on the case. Joe didn't pursue his claim for fees on his estate. He just wrote it off as 'paid in full'.

Early the following morning Joe left his home. He had a small bag containing his medical essentials and a few clothes. He never knew how long he would stay on one of his trips, and they told him they would put him up at a hotel. He kissed Sheila goodbye and set off. He took his own private Learjet 60 from the Bob Hope Airport at Burbank. He always considered the 13 million dollars it cost to be a good investment. He never worried about passenger timetables, checking in, or any of the other problems that beset normal travelers. He also had his own transport in case a particular patient needed collecting. He eased himself into his leather seat, and the stewardess brought him a gin and tonic. He enjoyed flying. The 820 miles slipped by in comfort as he caught up with his latest reading. He loved the celebrity magazines. He was always on the lookout for a story that might give him work in the future. He noted with interest that the paparazzi just wrote that the new host of the Late Show, Nicholas Miller, had a drink problem. In the story he read, it said he became violent towards one of his guests on the show. He was drunk and slurring his words on stage. When the guest implied Nicholas was gay, the host stood up, unprovoked, and punched him in the face. The network pulled the episode. Joe wondered who else caught the wrong end of his violence. He knew that the previous host of the Late Show retired last year and Nicholas, a relative unknown, appeared to be trying to make his mark. He was doing it in a very unconventional way. Joe made a mental note to contact Nicholas when this project finished, and tell him about his services. He arrived at Portland's small Hillsboro airport just over 2 1/2 hours after takeoff. A limousine met him at Hillsboro and they set off for the Institute. He Googled the place on the Internet and been slightly surprised there were no entries at all. As far as the Internet was concerned, it may as well have not existed. He was no stranger to secrecy though and this did not surprise him.

The driver took him West from the airport, on Highway 8. They quickly passed through Hillsboro and turned down the 47. After about 10 minutes, they turned off the main roads altogether and started on small single-lane roads. The driver said they were heading towards the unattractively named Henry Hagg Lake. They drove through undulating, rural and forested terrain. After only 15 minutes, the driver told him they arrived. His immediate thought was that he just wasted a morning of his time and flown over 800 miles for nothing.

He looked at the 'Institute' and saw a collection of old, dilapidated farm buildings on a forest track out of town. All he could see was dereliction, and there was no sign of any medical facility, or wealthily funded project. Now he was angry. He decided he would keep the deposit as payment for his time and return to Glendale immediately. He would deal with these time-wasters later.

The entrance to the building was through a dark, old, unused storeroom. Its door was half hanging off on its hinges. Its bare shelves told of a time when it was more prosperous. The dust was thick everywhere and more than one animal used the place for sleeping.

When the driver took Joe through a locked, reinforced door at the back of the store, his jaw dropped to the floor. He entered an immaculately painted, well-lit, reception area. From here, the driver took him to a very pleasant waiting room. He at last understood the place was a front for a new, impressive and very secret operation. He could see the old style farm buildings were just a facade to put off unwanted visitors. He imagined vast laboratories tunneling under the ground and James Bond style secret areas inside.

A very efficient woman welcomed him. She introduced herself as Melissa Tondust. She appeared to Joe to be in her mid 40s. Her hair was jet black and hung softly, framing her face. She wore a white lab coat and carried a clipboard. She was very friendly and made the Doctor feel at ease. Joe was 66 and thought she was very attractive. If only he were 20 years younger, he thought. He did wonder if it was professional for a man of his position to be attracted to a client, but he was a man after all. Thoughts of Sheila, his loyal wife sitting alone at home, never entered his mind.

Melissa took him into a reception room and introduced him to her two colleagues.

Gary was in his mid 30s and wore thick glasses. When he acknowledged Joe, he spoke with a pronounced stammer. His grey hair made him look a lot older than he was. The other man was Lawrence Burstall. He was in his late 20s. Both of them were dressed in white lab coats, jeans and shirts.

"Welcome to the Smith Baxendale Institute," said Melissa. "I called you yesterday and must apologize for sounding mysterious. We do, however have a need for secrecy and privacy, and I'm sure you'll understand when we explain everything to you. I hope the appearance of the place didn't put you off too much?"

"I must admit I decided not to stay when I saw the outside of the building. Now I'm inside, I'm happy to work with you. Can I see the patient please? I assume he's here?" started Joe.

"He's not arrived yet," continued Melissa. "We expect him here at 1 p.m. This will give us time to explain to you the complicated nature of the arrangement. The patient is a V.I.P. and we want to keep his existence quiet. We don't know at this moment the details of his condition. He may be completely unharmed, in which case we'll pay you handsomely for your time, and travel here but we'll not need further services. On the other hand, his injuries may be severe. We are not sure, but he may have been crucified."

Joe had a few clients who tried sado-masochistic experiments in the past. When they went wrong, Joe patched up the victims. He had one client who gained pleasure from severe forms of torture. He called Joe in on more than one occasion to put the prey back together again. Luckily, the man's wallet was deep. One poor victim did not survive the ordeal. Joe remembered the condition of the man when he arrived at the client's house. He managed to sew the arm back on, and the micro-surgeon he'd brought in thought he'd regain some use of the hand in time. However, the trauma was too great for his body and his organs shut down due to the prolonged dehydration he suffered from burial in the desert. He died two days later. Someone made a large payment to the police and the coroner suppressed an inquest. No one mentioned the client's name. Joe used the fees from this case alone to buy his 13 million dollar jet.

He'd never healed a man who suffered crucifixion, but it wouldn't be too difficult, as long as the man was still breathing.

"When did this take place?" he asked.

"About 2,000 years ago," said a smiling Lawrence.

"OK," replied Joe. "I understand the secrecy. I won't ask any specific questions. Is the man coming by ambulance? Can I talk to the crew to ascertain his condition?"

"I'm sorry that won't be possible. His transport is not in contact with us at the moment."

"Can you give me some more details of his possible injuries?"

"Well, as we said he may have been crucified. He may have a severe wound in his side, and he may have taken some drugs. If he has it will be a combination of tetrodotoxin, pentobarbital and cyclobenzaprine."

Joe considered this combination. He knew that tetrodotoxin would slow the victim's breathing to a minimum and simulate death, but he would remain conscious. In Haiti, locals called it the zombie drug. People who ate badly prepared puffer fish in Japan occasionally suffered from its poisoning. Pentobarbital would induce a coma. Cyclobenzaprine was a powerful muscle relaxant. It would have effectively paralyzed the man and completed the outward show. Joe thought if a man wanted to 'play' dead, this would be the most powerful and dramatic way.

He couldn't envisage in his mind how this might have happened, but it wasn't his place to consider this. He just needed to patch the man up.

"I'll need Fampridine to reverse the effect of the tetrodotoxin," he said. "The pentobarbital and cyclobenzaprine will wear off in time. I don't need a specific antidote for that assuming someone has calculated the dose carefully. You realize that a State could well use that combination of drugs as a lethal injection?"

"I already have a stock of Fampridine in," said Melissa. "If there's anything else you need, just ask me. I probably have it already, but if not I'll find it quickly." She ignored the comment about the lethal injection. "I have correctly typed blood if you need to perform a transfusion. We DNA tested some artifacts and know he's A1B positive."

Joe was impressed with this, although he didn't understand the comment about artifacts. In fact, he was already very impressed with Melissa.

"I don't suppose I can ask the name of the patient can I? It really doesn't matter, but it helps if I have a name to refer to him, even if it's fictitious," enquired Joe.

"His name is Jesus," said Lawrence.

"OK," said Joe. "I'll call him anything you want." With that, everyone in the team smiled. They could see the humor in the situation. "What happens if he's dead? Have you made adequate provision in case he dies on his way here?"

"He may indeed be dead," said Melissa. "We won't know that for sure until he arrives. Alternately, his injuries might be so severe you can't help him. That is not your problem. No one will mention your name and his body will disappear in a major explosion. He's not registered in this millennium, and no one will miss his presence. Now if there's nothing more you need, we'll take you to the transport room."

The team took Joe to the control room. In it, there were a number of monitors. They showed a large, high ceilinged room displayed on the screens. It appeared to be made of concrete and have a mesh cladding all over it. The room itself was empty.

"It won't be long now," said Lawrence. "Sit down and wait. I hope you have an open mind."

Joe thought that maybe the room on the cameras was a loading bay. He waited to see if there would be attendants meet the ambulance, but the camera view stayed empty. A recorded voice came over a loudspeaker, "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

As it said 'one' Joe was looking at the screens. A moment later, he blinked. He could see a huge boulder materializing. At first, it was just a faint impression, just an outline. It grew progressively more firm, until it was solid. It appeared right in the middle of the room.

"Where the hell did that come from?" he asked. "That's incredible."

"We told you, it came from 2,000 years ago. It may contain Jesus."

For the first time Joe vaguely believed them. There was just a chance this hadn't all been a charade. The appearance of the rock astounded him. He joined the team as they stood up and walked out of the control room. They all approached a massive steel door. Joe noted the very sophisticated locking arrangement on it. He watched as Lawrence put his eye to a retina scanner, and then Melissa put her hand on a palm pad. Finally, Gary entered a fifteen-digit number into the key pad.

It needed all three of them to open the door. In the beginning, only William Smith and Phil Baxendale could enter alone. If the others wanted to use the machine, it needed a team decision from all three of them. Now both William and Phil were gone. He heard enormous bolts slide free and the door, more than three feet thick, slowly opened.

They walked in and looked at the boulder. Joe guessed it was about twelve feet high. It had a gaping hole in the side of it.

Lawrence merely said, "The door's gone and there are two people inside. That's not in the plan."

All Joe could see was one man. He was dressed in a white linen robe. He did have a medical problem though. Joe saw the symptom immediately. It appeared in the form of a football-sized hole in his chest. Joe could see right through to the rock behind him. The man sat slumped down but there was no bleeding. Joe saw immediately an intense heat had cauterized the edges of the hole. There was still smoke rising from the sides of the wound. He was patently dead. He looked over at a large, linen-wrapped package, which appeared to be a wrapped body. Joe went over and felt the package. It was a body and it was still warm. Maybe there was a chance it wasn't dead. He looked at the team, who were standing there dumbstruck. He took charge of the situation and immediately called for a stretcher. Melissa produced a hospital trolley from somewhere and they put the still-wrapped body on it. It was obvious to Joe the other corpse was far beyond help. At breakneck speed, they wheeled it through the Institute to a large room. He saw brushed stainless steel covering the walls and an operating table in the middle. There was a large theatre light over the top of it. Together they slid the body onto the table.

Joe took charge. He surveyed the racks next to the table. They contained a supply of surgical gowns, masks and gloves. There was also a selection of surgical instruments. He rapidly donned the uniform of a surgeon and beckoned to the others to do the same. As soon as he was covered, he took a pair of surgical scissors from a tray, and stripped the linen shroud from the body. He knew speed was of the essence in a case like this. The man underneath was naked. He appeared in his early 30s, tanned, well-muscled and very fit. He had many wounds. Melissa told Joe about a possible crucifixion, and there were the telltale holes through his hands and feet. He had a raw wound in his side and many small wounds on his head. When Joe removed the linen covering, he noticed severe lesions covering his back. These reminded Joe of a severe flogging with a barbed whip. However, there was a more important problem than all these wounds, the man appeared to be dead. He was not breathing and had no discernable heartbeat. Joe wondered if this was the effect of the drugs, or if the man had really died. He took a stethoscope from his bag. He listened very carefully and faintly made out very slow breathing. He could not detect a pulse or breathing by any manual means.

"I assume you have a heart monitor," he asked.

Melissa wheeled one out and Joe wired the man up. There was a pulse, but it was incredibly weak and slow.

"Fampridine, and quickly," he called.

Melissa pressed a syringe into his hand. He carefully gave him the injection. The heart monitor initially showed a very slight increase in readings. Then suddenly it flat-lined.

"Crash cart, now," Joe called. He had no idea if the place was equipped with one, but they met every request he made so far. He had no reason to believe this one should be any different. Melissa handed him two paddles. She had already lubricated them. He placed them on the man's chest.

"200 Joules. Clear," he called, and immediately pressed the buttons. There was the jolt as the electricity flowed into the patient, but he saw no change on the monitor.

"300 Joules. Clear," he called. Again, there was no change. Joe was losing hope of saving his mystery patient but he decided to turn the machine up to its top setting.

"360 Joules. Clear." Still there was no change.

"360 Joules. Clear." Once more, there was no change. He thought to himself, one last try, then we'll abandon.

"Again, clear." As if the patient read his mind, Joe saw a very slight bump in the wave on the monitor. Two seconds later, he saw another. Slowly and with growing power the machine started to record a heartbeat.

"That was too close," said Joe. Melissa wiped his brow and systematically they started work on the open wounds.

Father, I died. I know I did. There was no escape from the cross. I remember a last drink thrust at me by the travelers, and then nothing. My mind is open now. Am I in your kingdom, father? There is an angel hovering over me surrounded by a bright halo of light. No, there are two angels. They minister to my hands and feet, dress the wounds. They bind them. They tend the wound in my side. I see them in my mind, even though my eyes are closed. I sense something in my throat. They cover my body with bandages. There are tubes and pipes. I don't understand what they do. They carefully turn me over. Now they tend the wounds on my back. Soon I will be healed and meet you, father. At last, I can see you. I can see my father who has been guiding me for so long. I thought that as soon as I arrived in your kingdom you would heal me. I see now that this was wrong. I will know soon.

Joe turned to Lawrence and Gary and told them the situation was under control. He said he could handle the patient with Melissa alone and suggested if they wanted to sort out the corpse in the 'rock', they were free to do that. He didn't say, but he admired Melissa and enjoyed working with her. Her extreme efficiency impressed him. The two men went off, and left the Doctor and his newfound nurse to finish the surgery.

It took about 2 hours to complete the work. They x-rayed the complete body and determined that there were no broken bones anywhere. The wounds were not septic yet, but there was a great deal of tissue damage. It was likely he would have difficulty walking and using his fingers until he completed extensive rehab. Joe stitched the holes in his hands and feet closed. They put temporary casts around them to keep the dressings in place. The gash in his side was not life threatening. Fortunately, whatever caused it hadn't penetrated any major organs. The flesh wounds on his back would heal soon enough, and the small punctures on his head were not serious at all.

Joe gave him several units of blood to replace the lost fluid. Melissa was correct when she said he was A1B positive. He also placed him on intravenous antibiotics and a drip to keep him unconscious while the worst of the healing took place, and the body had time to shuck off the effects of the drugs. He wrapped his chest in supportive bandages to give the muscles a chance to recover from the strains of the crucifixion on his arms. Finally, he took blood samples to have a series of tests carried out. He noticed a number of pox-like scars on the patient and Joe wanted to make sure he wasn't a carrier for any infectious disease that lain dormant for 2,000 years. The last thing he wanted was to bring a new untreatable virus into the 21st century.

At the end of the procedure, Joe and Melissa came out of their makeshift operating theatre. They removed their surgical garb and walked across into a comfortable waiting room. Sitting in the room were Gary and Lawrence. On the table in front of them was a small wooden crucifix, about 3 inches long.

Joe sat down. "I don't suppose I could have a scotch and soda could I?"

Melissa went scurrying off.

"She's a great lady isn't she?" said Joe. "She's very efficient."

In fact, she was more efficient than Joe knew. Melissa was 45. She was born to a poor family in a run-down town in rural upstate New York. Her prospects at birth, if she was lucky, were marriage and an endless stream of children. She had not done well at school, but quickly made her mark as a 'fixer'. She could obtain things for her friends when they needed it. At first, they were small things, such as cigarettes and alcohol. She knew who was good for what favor and how to take it. She started trading in contraband and soon was her class's contact to the black market. At the age of 18, she met her boyfriend-to-be and immediately fell in love. She broke her virginity on their first date. She married him two years later, and together they opened a local store. This one, however, was different to most local stores. From the back room, they supplied everything from machine guns to illegal spy gear. He tragically died of cancer three years after opening the store, but Melissa kept it going. She often said it was a tribute to his life. She became known in all the wrong circles. When William Smith needed a 'getter', Melissa's name was top of the list. He offered her an obscene salary and she was hired. She closed the store in New York and moved to Portland.

Melissa came scurrying back with the scotch and soda.

Joe said, "I understand there's no need for you to tell me anything, but I'm very curious about this case. I've never seen a crucified man before, and this one was real. He wasn't play acting."

Gary and Lawrence exchanged several glances with each other. Eventually Lawrence started talking. "It's very complicated," he said. "And I doubt you'll believe it. Briefly, the rock you saw is a time capsule. We sent two men back to the past yesterday and two different men returned today. We suspected neither of the original two investigators would return. We don't know why the second man was there. We may not now find out who he was, unless Jesus wants to tell us. That really doesn't matter, nor does the business of how he appeared in the capsule. However, we do believe the patient you have operated on truly is Jesus."

Joe smiled. "You're telling a devout Jew, that he has just saved the life of the Messiah?" and with that he let out a hearty laugh. "I could tell that this man wasn't from this time. The clue for me was the fact that he had smallpox antibodies in his bloodstream. I saw the telltale scars on his body and wondered if he had the disease in the past. I asked Melissa to test and the tests clearly show that at some time, he has suffered from it. However, smallpox has been extinct outside of laboratories for over 30 years. There have been no vaccinations of children since 1970. A man in his 30s couldn't have the antibodies. I knew there was something very odd about him."

Joe saw Gary and Lawrence grin at each other. He knew he made a good impression with them.

"As for the other man, do you know how he died?" asked Joe. "The wound in his chest looked like he was hit with a searing-hot cannonball at close range."

Lawrence said, "One of the features of the machine is it can't transport metal. We have sophisticated machines to check that here. However, in 33AD they didn't have such equipment. If the man climbed into the machine at the last minute, our researchers might not have checked him over. A piece of metal no bigger than the tiniest coin probably caused the hole you saw. Anything larger would have destroyed the whole capsule."

"I'm guessing as the man is probably 2,000 years old, there's no point in my doing an autopsy or providing a death certificate?" Joe asked.

"There's none at all," said Lawrence. "We will destroy the body and all the evidence later today. Our patron, Phil Baxendale, laid that down as a condition of the grant he's left us. We have set up to engineer a massive explosion that will destroy the capsule, the machinery and everything in the area. The blast will vaporize most things in the reinforced transport chamber. Phil didn't want to risk any more time travel and we have all agreed we will end the research. It's sad, we've been a team for a long time, but all things change. There will be an immense explosion that will destroy the evidence. We will need to file a death certificate for Phil after that, and probably for the translator too. I doubt they will reappear, not 2,000 years later anyway!"

"I can't issue a death certificate if I don't have a body," said Joe. I suggest you file a missing person's report, after you've set the explosion. The body fragments from the corpse will be small enough for me to assist there. I can certify there were two bodies in the explosion and you can simply fill in the details."

"If that is all agreed, we can set the detonation," said Lawrence.

The team went back to the transport chamber. The body of the man was still inside the rock. They then loaded in a quantity of computer equipment and disks. Finally, they added a piece of iron, about 6 inches cubed. Gary sat down on one of the stone benches and started the computer. After a few minutes, he called out to the staff they had one minute and everyone should leave. They closed the huge steel door behind them and they could hear the titanium alloy bolts engaging. 50 seconds later a voice started a countdown over some loud speakers.

"That's Wwwwwilliam Smith. This will be the last time we hear him," Gary stuttered.

When the count arrived at zero, there was an enormous noise. The room rocked. Things on the shelves in the control room fell over. Melissa grabbed Joe and they smiled at each other. The embrace was a little longer than it needed to be. Later that day scientific journals would record a magnitude 3.5 earthquake at Portland Oregon. The structure held. They went to the control room and the saw the cameras monitors were blank. The force of the blast disabled them. They tried the door, Lawrence put his eye to a retina scanner, and then Melissa put her hand on a palm pad. Finally, Gary entered the fifteen-digit number into the key pad. The door opened revealing an empty space. Everything inside was incinerated. The boulder was pulverized. There were no remains.

"Well that's the end of the era," said Lawrence. I guess when Jesus is sorted and established we will all need to look for new jobs.

"It's fortunate Phil has set us up with generous ppppensions. I won't have to work for quite a while," said Gary obviously with difficulty. His stammer became worse with his nerves and at this moment, he was obviously nervous. "I have other pppplans anyway and another mission pending."

"You've never told us about that," said Lawrence.

"It's a private arrangement. Sorry I can't go into details," said Gary. "But I will be leaving very soon."

"I'm going to look for a job in a hospital," said Melissa. She turned to Joe, "Do you need a nurse?"

"As tempting as that may be," replied Joe, "I'm retired. I reckon that after this job I might stop working altogether. It all depends how lucrative future jobs turn out. If someone offers me enough I'll consider anything. I have some touring planned and a couple of old friends to look up. There's some unpaid bills need settling."

"It appears you all have your plans," said Lawrence. "I'm the only one who doesn't have anything sorted out. I might see if Jesus needs a personal assistant. If he can perform miracles money won't be a problem," he laughed at this suggestion.

Joe went back to Jesus and checked on his condition. He was in a barbiturate-induced coma and he was sleeping peacefully. He walked out and Gary met him in the corridor.

"We'll give you a check now for your fees today, if that's OK. Unless you prefer cash?" he asked.

"A check is fine," the Doctor replied. "Can you make it out to Joe Jackson?"

## Chapter 9 \- The Second Coming

##

Joe woke up in the Presidential Suite at his hotel.

He picked up the morning paper. Room service delivered it to the hotel room and the waiter winked at him as he put the tray down. Joe didn't understand why. He devoured his steak, eggs, and the news eagerly. He couldn't find any news of an explosion at a Scientific Institute. There was no news of two men having gone missing. There was nothing in the papers about the second coming of the Messiah in Portland. He turned on the television and the same lack of news pleased him.

'Those people at the Institute have their privacy fully under control,' he thought.

He dressed and ate his breakfast while watching the news. He wanted to find a hint of what happened the day before. Finally, he opened his laptop and scoured the headings. There was a report, buried in the scientific section of one website, about an earthquake. Its epicenter was 10 miles West of Portland, Oregon and it was surprisingly shallow. It occurred at 16:23 yesterday.

He thought about the irony of his situation all evening. Here he was, a devout Jew, and he just saved Jesus' life. As a child, his family lived in Jerusalem. He knew when they were very young they lived in Germany. He often crept down stairs after he officially went to bed. He heard his parents arguing about things that happened long ago. They left Jerusalem very suddenly and moved to Seattle. His father was keen on the family losing their Jewish roots. He said they would fit better in the community of they weren't the 'odd family out'. His eldest brother followed his father's advice and renounced the faith. His mother wanted them to remain true to their beliefs. As the youngest brother of three, he followed his mother's wishes and stayed a practicing Jew. His middle brother waivered from one faith to another. The result of this religious fractioning in the house, and the age difference between the two younger siblings and the oldest, meant that he lost emotional contact with his brothers. His father died suddenly when he was 16 and his mother started to cling to him. He knew he had to leave the house. When he married at 18, Joe moved away from Seattle. He could remember that his oldest brother had not even attended his wedding. He had not been in contact with him since that day. Joe married a good Jewish girl, and his mother was delighted. She was even more delighted when he graduated as a Doctor. "At last we have a real man in the house," she would say. It was lucky his in-laws funded his passage through medical school. It was even luckier that he met with the mobsters. His mother died peacefully in her sleep at the age of 84. He believed his middle brother was still alive, living in the Central USA somewhere. His final religious 'flip' took him to the Bible Belt. He thought he was in the Police. He didn't know what profession his oldest brother took, and didn't even know if he was still alive. That was a source of sadness to him, and he thought many times to look him up on the Internet.

He had a few minutes to spare, so he finally decided to Google 'Tom Jackson'. He was not surprised to see there were thousands of entries. Then he remembered his brother changed his name when they left Israel. Joe used to be Joel Jacobowitz. Now he was Joe Jackson. His brother was Judas Tomas Jacobowitz. His father changed his eldest son's name to Tom Jackson. He wondered if he kept Judas as his middle name - 'Thomas Judas Jackson'. He typed this new name into Google. He came up with one promising entry, Professor Emeritus of Ancient Languages at the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilization at the University of Washington. He read the phone number for the department there. He dithered for a moment, unsure whether to make the contact, then his inborn curiosity won. He checked his watch to make sure he had time before the limo came and picked him up. He dialed the number. He didn't think the man would be there. He knew Tom would be retired, but they might give him a lead on a home address or possibly an email. He wondered if this man was his brother. He had so much to say, so much news to catch up. He didn't know why he left it so long. He considered the possibility it might have been an old entry and the man might have died. After all, he would be 74 now. He wondered if Tom kept up to date with modern technology, maybe he didn't use email. The phone rang and a voice answered.

"Near Eastern Languages." The operator had a pleasant and helpful sounding voice.

"Can I speak to Professor Jackson please?" he asked.

"I'm afraid he's not here," replied the voice.

"Do you know when he will be in?" asked Joe.

"He normally comes in every day, but I last saw him two days ago, and I haven't seen him since."

"Do you have a contact telephone number or email for him?" asked Joe.

"I'm sorry I can't give out personal information. Who's calling?"

"I'm his brother, Joe Jackson."

"Oh, I didn't know he had a brother. He never mentioned you. He went off to Portland with a Mister Baxendale two days ago. He told us he might be away a few days. I'll leave a message you've called."

"Thanks," mumbled Joe and he hung up. He thought, 'Baxendale - that's the name of one of the partners in the Institute. Surely, that was a coincidence.' He dressed quickly and went to meet his limo.

The angels hover over me again. I can't breathe. There is something in my throat. I can't move my hands or feet. There are bindings on them. What do you want father? Why do you treat me like this? Maybe I'm not in your kingdom at all. Maybe this is hell. Maybe I disappointed you when I asked for mercy from the agony of the crucifixion. The angels, or is it devils, speak in foreign tongues. I can hear words that I don't understand.

"I think he's waking up."

"Increase the dose of the barb"

"It's pretty high already"

"He's really strong."

"Yes, it's obvious he's a fighter. I think he'll pull through this one."

Father I am tired. I must sleep more.

Joe arrived at the clinic a little before nine.

Melissa met him again. She looked bleary eyed, as if she hadn't slept. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "Jesus stirred in the night. I think he came out of the coma for a few moments. I upped the dose of the barb slightly and he went off again."

"Have you slept?"

"No, I've been monitoring the patient."

"You need to rest."

"Well maybe a little. Let's go in and you can examine how the healing is going."

Joe thought she looked attractive, even in her bleary-eyed state. She worked through the night and was willing to work all day. She was a little miracle. He went inside and made his way to the operating room. He saw it was now equipped with a hospital bed. Jesus was lying on it, looking very uncomfortable with pipes and wires coming from all sorts of places.

"I hadn't wired up all that when I left yesterday," he said.

"No, I wanted to carry out some more tests and make sure he was being properly monitored."

"And you still didn't sleep?"

"I'm dedicated to my work," said Melissa.

Joe's respect for the woman was growing by the minute.

Lawrence came in. "We kept the explosion quiet from the press. We have alerted the coroner's office and the police and they agreed to keep the Institute's secrecy. We have connections in very high places. I have the missing persons report for the two travelers."

"Do you have their names?" asked Joe

"We've referred to one, Phil Baxendale, our benefactor. He was the man who caused the whole saga. The other was a translator he took with him. For reasons of confidentiality we'd rather keep his name private if you don't mind," said Lawrence.

"Keeping confidences is my specialty. I have personal reasons for asking, but we can talk again later," said Joe. "If it doesn't concern my patient I'm happy to work on a 'need to know' basis." He continued, "Let me see the patient. I am curious how well the wounds are healing."

The examination was a long one.

"The wounds are healing well," said Joe when he finished the assessment. "The man has a remarkably strong constitution. He's going to be fine. I think I'll bring him out of the coma. Would it be a problem for you if he woke up?"

"None at all," said Lawrence. "We need to talk to him and find out about our colleagues anyway."

Joe cut the barbiturate, and they all waited. Eventually the patient started to show signs of waking up. The beat from the heart monitor grew stronger. Finally, the man opened his eyes. There was a look of terror in them.

Joe didn't see terror in the man's eyes. He fixed his attention on their appearance. They were powerful and commanding. Moreover, they were an iridescent, intense blue. He was surprised. Joe gently reassured the man by smoothing his forehead, and asked the others to leave them alone. He knew the man would be scared. He didn't want him frightened by too many people. He would have no idea where or when he was and wouldn't recognize the technology around him. The three others left. Joe bent down and kissed the man on the forehead. He had no idea why he did this, he just had a feeling this was right. Immediately he felt a sense of power. He felt a connection to the past, a connection to HIS past. He started talking in Hebrew. He reckoned that if the man were Jesus, he would be able to understand the words he was saying. He didn't know how else to communicate with Jesus.

"Be still my friend," he started. "You're safe; no one will harm you now." He gently removed the breathing tube from the man's mouth. Jesus gagged slightly as it came out and coughed. Joe put his finger to own mouth as if to signal the man to keep quiet.

"I'm thirsty," said the man.

The demons are around me. One of them hurts me. The torture of hell starts. Father, help me. Three of the demons disappear. Thank you father for granting me this small boon. Only one remains. The demon bends down and kisses me. Now I know. This is not hell; I am not dead. I am still on earth. They are not demons at all; they are people and they are trying to help me. They are from a foreign land where there is much magic. I hear the man talking to me, reassuring me, saying I will be safe. This man removes something from my mouth. I can breathe more easily. I cough and the man tells me to keep quiet.

I remember the words I spoke on the cross. "I'm thirsty." They gave me the water to make me sleep. Please let me sleep now.

Joe fetched some water in a glass with a straw. He offered it to Jesus who took the smallest sip. There was calm about his face and Joe could tell he was relaxed.

"Go to sleep again," he said in Hebrew. "You need rest and you will heal soon. We can talk more soon. I'll be close by if you need me." He walked into the waiting room and joined the other members of the team.

"Jesus needs rest," he said. "We can start to interview him later, but we have to take it gently. There's a lot for him to come to terms with."

"We fully expected that," commented Lawrence. "We can allow him to rest. You let us know when we can talk to him."

"You'll need to speak Hebrew to him," said Joe. "That's the only language I have found so far that he speaks."

The three Institute members looked at each other. None of them spoke this language. Joe noticed the crucifix that lay on the table since yesterday. He picked it up and examined it very carefully.

"I know this," Joe said. "My brother had an identical one when he was a child. Our father gave it to him. Where did this come from?"

"We retrieved it from the body of the man who died in the rock," said Lawrence. "It was the only thing he had on him. You may be right when you say it's modern. I saw a similar one before. The translator who went back to the past took it with him. He wanted to take that as a personal memento. He said it had special significance for him. I examined it myself, before he left, and so I'm sure it is the same piece."

"What was the name of the translator?" asked Joe.

"You asked that before," replied Lawrence. "We really don't want to release that information."

"Was it Tom Jackson?" pressed Joe.

"OK, as you seem to know, yes it was."

"He was my brother."

You could have cut the silence with a knife. Lawrence knew the Professor as Tom Jackson, but the doctor was only Joe to him. Gary only knew the Professor as Tom. He wrote a check to Joe Jackson, and he hadn't made the connection either. Melissa hired both the men. She knew the Professor was Tom Jackson, and the Doctor was Joe Jackson. She hadn't connected the two as Jackson is a common name and they lived 1,000 miles apart. How many Jacksons were there after all in California and Washington State?

Eventually Lawrence broke the silence. "I'm sorry," he said. "Were you two close?"

"We hadn't spoken to each other for probably fifty years," said Joe. "It is a shock to find he has gone this way. I was only checking out what happened to him this morning."

"I checked his medical form he signed when he was here," continued Lawrence. "He didn't fill in any next-of-kin. He didn't read the form, just signed it at the bottom. I told him to read it, but I think he was very excited by the prospect of time travel. Did he have any family apart from you?"

"To be honest I don't know. We have one other brother, but I know he lost contact with him too. I have no idea if he had a wife or children."

"I'll call the University," said Melissa. "They will tell me I'm sure. If he did, we can contact them. It won't be pleasant or easy. We'll have to work out what to tell them."

"Melissa, you need sleep," said Joe. "Take the Doctor's advice and take a few hours off. I'll look after the patient. He's recovering well. He'll be sitting up and talking in 24 hours. You can deal with the University later." As an afterthought he added, "Can I have the crucifix? It might be the last souvenir I ever have of my brother." He picked it up from the table. He was wearing a thin silver chain his wife gave him. She gave him very little as anything he needed he bought. This chain was special. It was simple and plain. The message was to represent his love to her. He missed the significance. She bought it as a gift for their fortieth wedding anniversary. It cost her less than $20. In return, he bought her a large ruby ring. It cost him just over $25,000. Unclasping it, he threaded the cross on to it through a hole in the top. He fastened it back round his neck and vowed to wear it from that day on in memory of his brother. The one he never really knew. It was a memory of the man who saved Jesus.

"Father, help me and forgive me. I am sorry if I displease you and I don't understand what happens. You punish me by sending me to this strange world. If it is hell, tell me how long I must suffer before you let me see you. Why do you not talk to me? Why is there no answer? You have never ignored me before. The man who helped me before has just come in. He tells me a strange tale. It was a fantastical story about travel into the future. I do not know what to think. I cannot know what to believe. If I sleep the pain in my body and the anguish in my mind will subside. I feel safe now.

Joe went back to see his patient. Jesus was indeed sitting up and talking. Joe explained to him the essence of what happened. "Jesus," he began. The man looked at him; the name appeared to have registered. "Don't worry; I am not going to hurt you. I am here to help you heal. Try not to talk to me there is no need. Just nod if you understand." Jesus nodded. "You have traveled a long way in time. It is now 2,000 years since you lived before. My friends brought you here, so that I could heal you. I am a doctor and I will take care of you. All you have to do now is rest and you will heal. Time will heal you and here you have all the time in the world." He thought that sounded odd coming from a time travel Institute.

Joe still could not believe it himself. Devout Jew as he was, he knew the Bible story. Here was a man who died 2,000 years ago. Christians believed he rose from the dead 3 days later. Joe knew they were wrong. Joe knew he rose from the dead 2,000 years later.

Joe found he could talk quite easily with the man. He didn't know the details of how he arrived here and Jesus wasn't in a state to tell him. The time for detailed explanations and questioning would come later. Now it was time to recuperate and let the wounds heal. He made sure Jesus knew he was a friend. Joe thought it was hardly surprising, but Jesus looked very confused. One minute he was in 33 AD nailed to a cross for being King of the Jews, next moment he was in the year 2012, with his wounds healed by modern technology.

Life went on for the next few days with Jesus being asleep most of the time. Melissa fed him and Joe tended to his wounds. Joe did all the talking, as he was the only one who understood Jesus. Lawrence decided it would be OK to break the Institute's strict code of silence and started to tell Joe the story. He told him about William Smith, and the discovery of time travel. He told him about Phil Baxendale and the badly needed injection of cash he provided. He told him of the accident and William's death. Then he went on to detail the successes. He mentioned the first human trip back in time to the 1700s, and the building of the huge boulder. Finally, he detailed Phil's first trip back to 33 AD. He mentioned Phil's mistake in seeing Pilate and changing history. Then he went into detail for the search for a Western Aramaic speaker and the discovery of Professor Tom Jackson. He talked about when Tom came to the Institute and preparing him for time travel. Finally, he told Joe about the promise to destroy everything after the rock came back. That was where the explosion came into play. They set the machine to send back to the year 33AD. However, they added a large piece of iron, not to mention the computer parts. Being metal, this caused the huge blast.

"The one mention we had in the press," he said, "was the occurrence of an earthquake. We have the press and the police tightly sewn up. Phil and William both had connections with people in very high places. They didn't spend years funding election campaigns for these men for nothing. I just called the Governor and nothing more was said about it. The Governor said it was the least he could do for one of his most loyal supporters." They both chuckled at this.

"What are we going to do with Jesus?" Joe asked. "He will be well soon and he'll have to be told the truth. You can't keep him here as a prisoner, and if he's released into the world, he's going to spill your story. Either that or they'll lock him up as a lunatic. He'll be labeled another Messiah wannabe."

"I know and the three of us have been talking about that ever since this phase of the project began," said Lawrence. "Phil told us he probably wouldn't return. He also said your brother might not return. The only evidence of time travel would be Jesus himself. We talked about killing him, but that rather defeats the purpose of bringing him here and paying you to heal him. If we let him loose then he will, as you said, just end up in an asylum. There is one other way -"

Lawrence didn't finish this sentence. Melissa rushed in looking distraught. "He's gone," she said.

The men ran out after her. They could hear Gary running around searching the building.

"He can't have gone far," said Melissa. "He's only wearing a hospital gown. Do you think he's left the building?" The answer was there staring them in the face. The emergency exit door was standing wide open.

"Search the grounds," she screamed.

After an hour searching the grounds and the surrounding neighborhood, they knew they had a problem. Jesus had vanished.

"What in God's name should we do?" asked Gary.

"Nice choice of words," replied Lawrence. "I've no idea. I think we should alert the police."

Joe offered his thoughts. "If you want I can call them. I can say we have a V.I.P. on the loose with Messianic delusions. I have contacts back in L.A. who will back me up and take the heat off you."

They made the call.

"Hillsboro Police Department -"

"We'd like to report a missing person."

"How long have they been missing?"

"About 2 hours."

"Is this a child? Otherwise we don't take reports of missing people until they've been missing for more than 24 hours."

"This is an adult, aged 33, but he's delusional and maybe very dangerous."

"Oh, do you mean Jesus? He's here and he's talking to the press."

"We'll be there in 10 minutes."

This was just about the worst news the team could have heard. The police evidently found the man and somehow the press contacted him. It was totally beyond their comprehension how this happened. They piled into the Institute's truck and raced off to the Police Department. It would have been hard work for Phil Baxendale in his Dodge Viper to keep up with Gary in his truck! He drove them there in 8 minutes, leaving chaos, broken speed limits and red lights in his wake.

Outside the Hillsboro Police Department Headquarters Joe saw a van bearing the letters '104.1 KFIS - The Fish'. He saw a logo on the side in the form of a stylized fish, comprising two arcs, touching at one end and intersecting at the other. Lawrence told him that this was the symbol of Portland's Christian Radio Station.

"It goes from bad to worse," Lawrence said.

They rushed in. The sight of a gaggle of press reporters met Joe. Jesus was sitting calmly at a desk. He could hear the reporters calling out questions at him and he was sitting there looking as if he didn't understand. There was one man with a microphone bearing the numbers 104.1 and Jesus seemed to understand him. Joe approached, and he heard him speaking Hebrew. Jesus caught sight of Joe. He smiled and beckoned him over.

The man is kind to me and my strength returns. I know the man does not tell me the whole story. There is more to this than I understand. I accept the strange surroundings and the strange machines. Either I am in hell or the man speaks the truth. There is a woman who is very kind. She visits me and feeds me. After three days here, I feel a lot better. The man removes the bindings from my hands and feet. He says they will heal better on their own. I worry that you don't talk to me at all, father. I have no visions and no contact with you. Not one of the angels I know visits me. I am here alone.

Maybe this strange room stops your voice. No one is around now. The friends have fed and ministered to me, and now is the time. I must get off the bed, but the pain is severe. I'm strong though, used to pain. Pilate crucified me and I survived that. This is nothing. I'm out of the building. A chariot is coming. It must be magic as there are no horses or other beasts pulling it. Did you send this for me father? I stand in front of it. The chariot stops. There's a man in it calling to me. He opens a door. I go inside. The chariot sets off. I wonder will it fly. There are many other chariots here. Now we've come to a large city. The chariot stops and the man wants me to go inside a building. There are many men here. One has a stick in his hand and he comes over to me. He pushes the stick towards me. He speaks in a language I don't understand. I talk to him in Hebrew.

"My name is Jesus, peace be with you my son."

Now many men talk to me. They speak in strange tongues. The man with the stick is kind; I try to answer. I show him the wounds in my hands and feet. I lift my robe and I show him the wound in my side. Many other men are here now and they shout at me. I hope my friend who has been tending me will come. I hope he will understand I only want to talk to you, father. There's my friend at last. He comes over.

Police Chief McCarthy stopped them. Phil's generous contributions had secured his election, not to mention that of the governor. His orders came from very high up that he was to look after them. "You're from the Institute aren't you?" he asked Lawrence. "Is this man one of yours?"

Lawrence nodded. "How did he come here?"

"Old Mister Frederickson, who lives in one of the cabins down the road from you, happened to drive past and saw him run out. He ran right in front of the car. Frederickson said he slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting him. He opened the car door to have a go at him, but the man climbed in, as bold as brass. He was babbling incoherently. He thought he had better take him to the hospital, bearing in mind the way he was dressed, but the Station was on the way. He thought he'd stop here and ask where he should take an escaped loony. He didn't know if the man was dangerous. Frederickson had his gun, but the stranger seemed unarmed. Whatever else he does, Old Man Frederickson doesn't kill unarmed loonies for nothing. What he didn't know was that the correspondent from the local Christian Radio Station was here interviewing the police counselor. It appears the reporter was a converted Jew, as no sooner had he seen the man, he started talking to him in Jewish. The man showed him wounds on his hands and feet. Word spread quickly that the Second Coming of Jesus was happening in Hillsboro and newspapermen and gawkers came in from everywhere. You can see the result."

"I'm sure if we call in enough favors and pay enough people the right money we can hush it up?" asked Lawrence.

"You'll have a job," replied the Chief, "the broadcast is going out live." With that, there was a clamor from the press and a TV camera arrived.

"KPTV 12 Fox news here, where's Jesus? Sort out the feed quickly. This is a live transmit."

"That's all we need," said the Chief.

## Chapter 10 \- Echmoth

The headman helps me too. He stops the crowd shouting and calms them. He has power. I don't know why the crowd is so excited. The chief takes us down to a small room. It's a prison. Father, I really don't understand this place. What do you want of me? What should I be doing? Help me please to understand. Please speak to me and let me know that I am not alone again. This is like the time before I knew you. It's like the time when I was faking the healing. You never talked to me then. You don't talk to me now. Have I upset you so much?

Chief McCarthy was good. He separated the press and Jesus and took the Institute crew down into the cells. He managed to stop the TV camera from rolling after it just caught a back view of his men escorting someone in a hospital gown out of the reception area. He terminated the radio session, but many of the press and public caught photos of Jesus on their cameras and mobile phones.

After about an hour, Joe, the Institute crew and Jesus were hustled out of a back entrance and Gary went and fetched the truck. As they set off back to their base, they noticed the press was still barricading the front entrance of the station. They could now see 2 TV crews and about 50 reporters. Once they arrived home, they needed to work out a plan. Lawrence told Joe to take Jesus back to his room and sedate him. They needed time to think without the chance of him running away again. Jesus lay down on his bed. Joe could see he was upset.

He started to talk to him. "Why did you leave? You are safe here. Outside you're in danger. These men might hurt you."

"I need to contact my father," replied Jesus. "In here I can't talk to him. I don't know why. This room is bad for me."

"What you need is more sleep and more time to let your wounds heal. That trip out has done some damage to your stitches. Let me check you over."

After a thorough check, Joe told Jesus he would make him sleep for a while. He said that he would be back soon. After sedating him, he left. In the corridor going to the waiting room, he passed Gary going the opposite way.

"Lawrence asked me to check on something," Gary said. "I'll be back in a minute. Is he asleep?"

"Should be," replied Joe. "The dose of sedative I gave him was pretty high."

I am very drowsy. The nice man tells me sleep will heal. He puts something inside me to help this. I can feel myself becoming sleepy. Maybe you will talk to me while I dream, father. Finally, I can hear you. You say to me, "Look out, there's danger." I see a man with a knife. He approaches me. I am cannot defend myself. If I pull my legs up to my chest - if I kick out at the man. There is pain in my feet. The man tumbles backwards and falls over. He is quiet now. I am safe again. Thank you for your warning father.

There was a crash from the surgery. It sounded like someone knocking a trolley over. Joe only just reached the waiting room and just started to open the door. At the sound, Lawrence and Melissa came running out the other way. All three of them rushed back to Jesus' room. Jesus was asleep in his bed unharmed. Gary was lying on the floor. There was blood coming out of a wound in the back of his head and a knife on the floor next to him. Joe bent down and examined the man. He was dead. There was a pile of scattered surgical tools lying on the floor next to his body. They fell in a peculiar way.

Joe thought he could see the letters. With a touch of imagination, he thought he could read a word. Four scalpels formed an 'E'. Next to them was a semi-circular bone saw that fell in the shape of the letter 'C'. Two drills made a lower case 'h'. Two long-handled pairs of scissors opened and landed making a 'M'. The lid from a plastic box made an 'O'. A power drill next to this was a creditable 'T'. Lastly, there were four probes making a second 'M'. EChMOTH. Joe knew it was just coincidence of course.

Almost exactly 60 years ago, Joe saw a similar scene. He was only five at the time, but the scene scarred itself in to his memory. At his home in Jerusalem, it was the day of his brother, Tom's bar mitzvah. They were dressing. His father was in his own bedroom. Their mother had been dressing them all in their room. There was a crash from his father's room. Rosa told them all to stay there. Then there was a scream and Rosa came out suddenly. Joel (which was his old name) looked into his parent's room. He saw his father lying on the bed, seemingly asleep. He saw a man lying on the floor with a knife next to him. A large pool of blood was spreading from a wound in the man's head. His father appeared to wake up.

"We have to go," he said. "He's found us."

Joe never forgot those words. Although he once asked his mother, many years later what his father meant, she merely told him to forget about it. While Tom got ready for his bar mitzvah, Rosa packed some small bags for the family. Immediately after the party, they left. He remembered the journey. They left Jerusalem hidden in the back of their car under a rug. He could recall the rough journey across Europe. The boat to England made him seasick. He was sick again on the plane to New York. How many times did it stop on the way? He could remember six bumpy landings. Then the train ride across the country. That was another epic, lasting 4 days and involving countless changes of train, some in the middle of the night. Finally, they found a new life in America. They changed their names. He was now Joe.

His mind snapped back to the present. "What the hell has happened?" asked Lawrence. "What was he doing?"

"Why the knife?" asked Melissa.

"Whatever he was doing, he's dead now. We can't ask him. It looks as if Jesus pushed him with his feet, just before the sedative took over. He crashed back here and hit his head. Death was instantaneous," said Joe.

"Can we cover this one up?" asked Lawrence. "There have been so many recently."

"We better ask Chief McCarthy to come over here. See what he says," said Melissa.

They called the Chief and he arrived in an unmarked car 15 minutes later. He walked into the scene and whistled softly. "I heard you guys had one heck of a lab out here, but I never saw anything like this before."

"What shall we do about the body? He was one of our colleagues. We have no idea why he tried to attack our patient," said Lawrence.

"Did he have any family?" asked the policeman.

"No, one of the conditions of employment here is no wives or children. It saves problems with the confidentiality," said Melissa.

"If you want I can make this one go away. I can't do anything about your guest there." He pointed at Jesus lying on the hospital bed.

An hour later, a one-man forensic crew finished, Joe certified the man dead and the coroner did his job. He pronounced the death accidental, and said there would not be an inquest. That was the end of that. It wasn't, as the chief predicted, the greatest of their worries. The media were shouting from every corner about the second coming of Jesus in Hillsboro. Every TV channel seemed to be showing excerpts from the radio broadcast and a dozen different photos. Stories of the Messiah appearing were proliferating. Within another hour, it was National news, and by the end of the day, it was International. One Italian crew even interviewed the Pope, who was assuring everyone it was a hoax.

Not one station believed that though. The press accepted this man as real, and there was nothing that anyone could do that would undermine that. Old Man Frederickson, to the Institute's relief, became very confused. He did not remember where he picked up the man, and although he was now a minor celebrity, his own ramblings made him look like a doddering old fool. He finally decided he was shopping in Wal-Mart, when Jesus came out from there and ran in front of his car. At least that kept the anonymity of the Institute intact. Jesus, it appeared was alive and working in Walmart!

Chief McCarthy was keeping quiet over the whole affair. He refused to tell anyone where Jesus came from or where he went, merely saying he would return when he wanted to. Every station seemed to have its own interpretation of the broadcast on KFIS Christian Radio. It certainly wiped everything else off the front pages of the news. There was an earthquake in Turkey, and a huge fire in Los Angeles and some pundits were linking this with the apocalypse and the end of the world, but these were in the minority. Walmart in Cornelius, Oregon, just down the road from Hillsboro, was having a problem. Sightseers in their hundreds arrived and checked it out for signs of their former employee.

For Melissa and Lawrence, there was a problem. Why had Gary tried to kill Jesus? They simply had no idea. They returned to the conversation a hundred times and failed to find any motive. As far as they knew, he was Christian. He wasn't a radical, or the Institute wouldn't have employed him. He was a good computer scientist, with a good grasp of the project. Joe, half-jokingly, suggested demoniac possession. Although that was a fantastical idea, they couldn't think of anything else. They decided to go through his locker. They didn't find anything special there, except a business card, with the Jesus Ikhthus symbol on it, and the title 'Son of Philip'. On the back was printed a mysterious text. "Echamoth is one thing and Echmoth, another. Echamoth is Wisdom simply, but Echmoth is the Wisdom of death, which is the one who knows death, which is called "the little Wisdom."

Joe knew the word Echmoth. He saw it in the fallen surgical instruments. He knew it from before too. He had seen it somewhere in his childhood. He didn't know where but he had seen it before. He thought his father used it. What was the context? He couldn't remember. Nevertheless, he lodged that thought in his head and it wouldn't shift until he solved it. He called it 'putting a thought on the back burner'. Sometime, usually days later, when he was in the middle of something totally unrelated, the answer would come.

Lawrence and Melissa declined to say any more about Gary. It was as if they drew a veil over the whole matter. It was almost as if they erased his memory from their heads. They wanted to move on. Joe on the other hand didn't. Echmoth, where had he heard that word?

The next day Jesus was all over the media. The world was talking about the story. Jesus came round at last and they managed to dress him. Joe decided to ask him what he wanted to do about it. He painstakingly explained to him about the last 2,000 years. How Jesus started a religion. He told him how the religion started wars, and divided countries. He told him about the Pope and doctrines of the Church. He told him about the Jews, and the last World War when they were persecuted. At the end of all this Jesus seemed unhappy. He said he was still trying to talk to his father and he would put all things right. Jesus did have one plan. He wanted to tell the world it would be OK. Repeatedly he kept saying he wanted to put the wrongdoings of the bad men right. His father would prevail over evil. Joe knew they had to do something unprecedented to help Jesus and spread the word. Jesus wanted to speak to people and Joe wanted to help him. He had one name going through his head, Nicholas Miller, the new host of the Late Night Show. Joe wondered if he did Nicholas a favor and offered him the most important guest of the century, maybe Nicholas would consider his services in return. The Institute employed Joe as a Doctor, now he was taking the role of counselor and friend. Still as long as the Institute paid his fees, he didn't mind. They seemed to have unlimited money and he wanted his share of it.

Nicholas took over the late night talk show host's crown about 12 months previously. He was a superstar now in TV circles. His nightly show frequently boasted an audience of over 6 million viewers. The highest number was around 30 million for its premier. This compared with an average of 3.4 million for his predecessor. Joe wondered how many viewers an audience with Jesus would have. He tried to explain about television to Jesus. He knew this would be hard. He didn't like the man. His completely over-the-top and camp persona disgusted Joe. However, there was a potential for money here, and if he played his cards right, a lot of it.

My friend wakes me up. I sleep a long time. I remember the man with the knife. My friend comforts me with gentle and reassuring words. "How am I?" he says. He talks to me about the future. I know this already. That is where I am. He says things are very different here. He says I did something very bad two thousand years ago. I started a Church and it is not good. Many don't share my views on peace and tolerance. These men start wars. They kill millions of people. He says he's a Jew like me. An evil man killed many Jews 70 years ago. The evil man killed them for following their faith. He tells me he wants me to meet a powerful man called Nicholas. All I have to do is talk to him. He says it will be strange, but he would be with me and help me. I will see many new things. Maybe I can put the wrongs of the world right. Maybe I can strengthen your message. The whole world is different now and I have a lot to learn very quickly. The friend tells me he will now speak to the powerful man, even though he is many miles away. He will use a magic talking machine. I must not be frightened, and the man will help me.

Joe sat Jesus up and said he was going to use a magic talking machine to contact the powerful man. It took a long time for Joe to talk his way through the wall of secretaries and press agents. Apparently, this was the third call that day from someone saying they were Jesus. The other two spoke perfect English and said they were Jesus themselves. The news was saying that this Jesus appeared to speak Hebrew. At least this caller said they were representing Jesus.

"Hello Darling, this is Nicholas, how can I help you?" On television, Nicholas appeared to be extremely camp. He was no different in real life. Joe didn't wonder the guest on his show implied he was gay.

"Hi my name is Joe. I'm a representative of the Institute that is taking care of Jesus. I want to talk to you about an appearance on your show."

"Oh that's simply wonderful. Now tell me darling, how can I believe you're not a crank or a weirdo, or just someone trying to take a free spot on the show?"

"I don't want the spot personally; I'd bring Jesus to you."

"I saw him on the news, he looked adorable. But I'll ask again, how do I know you're genuine."

"Quite simply, you don't. Do you want to risk turning me down?" There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

"Can I speak to Jesus?"

"Yes," Joe said. "Do you speak Hebrew?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic," Nicholas replied. "My surname is Miller. Did you know that's the third most common Jewish name in the USA?"

"I'll take it that's a yes then." Joe handed the phone to Jesus.

Joe said to Jesus quietly, "Just speak into here and the other man will hear you."

"I want to tell the world I'm sorry," started Jesus in Hebrew. "I have been told that in the 2,000 years since I was crucified, many things have gone wrong. I want to try to put them right. My friend says you can help me tell the world."

"Oh you sound exactly like the man on the radio," squeaked Nicholas also in Hebrew. "You're the real man I can tell. I can certainly help you. When can you arrive? We can talk face-to-face. If there's a chance you could make the show tonight, we could catch the press hype that's going on right now."

Jesus looked as if he didn't understand a word that the man said. He handed the phone back to Joe.

"We can be there tonight if you want. We're in Hillsboro, Oregon now, but I have a Learjet and can fly to New York. I'd like to sit with Jesus on the show. We would have some small conditions as well, but they're not complicated. One would be no questions about how he came here. The second would be absolute secrecy about where we're staying. We don't want the press to mob us. The final one is your guarantee that we can arrive and leave safely without anyone following us. That just leaves the small matter of Jesus' fee."

"Don't worry about the fee, darling. Jesus is a scoop. Standard agency rates OK. Apart from that, it all sounds reasonable. We normally record the show beforehand, but in this case, I am sure we can stretch things. We can broadcast live. I want it to be exciting. You have to be here in New York at the Ed Sullivan Theatre by 11 p.m. to make the 11.35 slot. Can you make it?"

"Let's talk fee now. Agency rates are certainly not OK. I reckon a million dollars would be acceptable. Payment to be in cash as soon as we arrive and you're convinced Jesus is the real man from Hillsboro."

Joe was convinced he heard Nicholas gulp. He knew he would be considering the proposal. A million dollars for one appearance; that was unprecedented.

"Oh, I can't agree to that, sorry," said Nicholas.

"OK," said Joe. "My agent has already agreed a similar figure with Jay Leno. It's just I wanted to give your new show a boost."

"I'll have a million dollars in cash in a briefcase when we meet."

Joe knew he was a great negotiator. He said, "All the other details are fine. We should be in New York around eight. That will give us plenty of time.

"OK, bye gorgeous, kisses to Jesus," finished Nicholas.

Joe went and told Lawrence and Melissa about the call. Inwardly he hated the discussion. Nicholas made his skin creep. He wished he had approached Jay Leno. However, he didn't think there would be the chance of negotiating such a fee, and Leno came with no reputation that indicated he needed Joe's services. He omitted to tell them about the fee he agreed. They wanted to come too, and Joe welcomed the company. At least he welcomed Melissa's company. All four of them climbed into the Institute's limo. The trip to the airport was short and mercifully, the press didn't spot them. Joe's Learjet was ready to go.

The plane was a Learjet 60 and boasted a maximum speed of 453 knots. Allowing for takeoff, landing, and the tailwind the flight plan the pilot filed said they would cover the 2,400 miles in five hours. The plane's range was 2770 miles. New York was pushing it a little bit, but with full tanks and a good tail wind, it wasn't a problem. The ground crew fuelled it and the pilot was waiting for them. They boarded the plane.

Jesus gave them no problems. He never questioned the flying at all. Joe knew he needed to explain to Jesus about flight. He tried his best, but the man really didn't seem to understand. Joe told him it was like a metal bird, which could take them to another place. Jesus looked confused, so he tried explaining it in as many different ways as he could. In the end, Jesus simply went to sleep and he missed the takeoff.

Father, my friend tells me about his plan. We are going to see a man who can send my message all around the world. He says it is very simple. Now we are in the magic chariot again. Here they have metal birds people can enter. He says the bird will take us to a very big city where I can meet the powerful man. Maybe this man will have his scribes make copies of my message and send them with runners to all the main cities. My friend tries to tell me about the bird. I do understand what he says though. He doesn't need to tell me in 20 different ways. I'm not a stupid child. My mission is to tell mankind how to live in honor of you, father. He is my friend, but I can see he does this for his own reward, not for your glory. He helps me feel better, but he didn't bring me here. That was Thomas and Philip, the two travelers from this new time. I know in my heart what happened to those two men. Thomas became a great evangelist and spread my message all over the Eastern world. He wrote a book that men lost for centuries. Now man has found it and they talk about Thomas again. Philip wrote a powerful letter. Some people don't understand it. He begat a son who spread your true word. The son of Philip will remain in hiding and will endure for 80 generation. He will try to put right things that go wrong and make the world ready for me to return. It was all about wisdom, the little wisdom, the wisdom of death. Knowing whose death would benefit you. Knowing whose death would keep your message pure. I must try to reach him. This is the last generation. I wish my friend would stop trying to talk to me and explain things. If I close my eyes and talk to you alone, he must surely leave me alone. Father, please do not forsake me. I'm going to meet a powerful man of these times and try to spread our message. Forgive me my sins and be by my side when I spread the word.

Joe was relieved to see Jesus slept for most of the flight. Jesus did wake up to eat, and that was about all. Joe could sense something changed in their relationship. He would ponder that and see if he could chat with Jesus during the trip. Jesus seemed a little more distant. He just finished his own meal, when a thought came to his head. Echmoth. The word written on the card they found in Gary's locker. In a flash of recognition, he knew where he saw it before. The first time was on the wall in his parent's bedroom in Jerusalem. The day the man with the knife died. The day they all packed and left. Someone, he never found out who, daubed it on the wall there. In his mind, he could see large letters. They were red in color. Were they blood? His father was uninjured. The only blood came from the man who died. Were they blood? How had the assassin's own blood splattered on the wall? The blood fascinated him as a child. How on earth had he forgotten it? He remembered it for so many years, but recently it disappeared out of his head. Now it was back. Memories of a five year old are elusive 60 years later.

He took out his laptop computer, plugged into the plane's internet connection and Googled the single word 'Echmoth'. Four entries came up:  
There was a player in a computer game called Starcraft II who used this name. This he discarded immediately.  
There was a rather bizarre musician. Again, he discarded this possibility.  
It appeared to be a deity venerated by a group called 'The order of Nazorean Essenes'. This had promise. He searched their website and was inclined to put this option as a low possibility.  
The final offering was the jackpot he looked for. In the Gospel of Philip, he found a passage matching the words printed on the back of the card in Gary's locker exactly. 'Echamoth is one thing and Echmoth, another. Echamoth is Wisdom simply, but Echmoth is the Wisdom of death, which is the one who knows death, which is called the little Wisdom.'

He remembered the card contained the name 'Son of Philip' on the front. In a vain hope he Googled 'Son of Philip'. He was not surprised when it merely brought up a list of family relations. Damn these family historians, he thought. However, he had an idea, and after a simple telephone call to a friend who was a computer wizard, he owned a website called Echmoth.com and had an email echmoth@hotmail.com.

## Chapter 11 \- The Late Show

They landed at Teterboro Airport, which is a mere 12 miles from Central Manhattan and is far quieter than any of the main three New York airports. They had plenty of time to spare, and the limousine was parked and waiting for them. All the ground crew knew of Joe's V.I.P status, as his jet visited the airport many times before.

Joe remembered flying in there the first time. He didn't pass through security quite so easily. Still it was an emergency job. A celebrity hired him simply to stomach pump a 'friend'. He flew the 2,400 miles wondering why a simple stomach pump would need his emergency services. By the time Joe removed all the objects from the various body cavities of this 'friend', he had a collection that would make a Ripley's 'Believe it or Not' turn a hair. He was away from his wife for a week, and not contacted her all that time. To assuage his guilt, and make her feel better, he used the fees from this small job to buy a car for his wife. She still treasured the Bentley Turbo RT, which was still running. Their chauffer loved ferrying the lady in it even though it was now 14 years old.

The security rushed the party through without question and they were soon off on the Interstate. The I80 took them to the New Jersey Turnpike, and across the George Washington Bridge. Jesus sat in awe as he looked out the window at the city. The limo then took the Parkway down to 53rd where they cut across to Broadway. They arrived at the Ed Sullivan Theater 45 minutes after leaving the airport. It was just after 8 p.m. when the doorman showed them into the offices of Nicholas Miller, and they met their worried looking host. He was dressed in a bright yellow suit and a pink shirt.

"Terrible news, darlings. We've received instructions from our solicitors that this is a bad idea. They haven't said why in detail, they just advised us not to go through with it. I can't find a straight answer from anyone. They say something about threats from a crank group of extremists."

"We've traveled a long way to be put off by something like this, but in today's day and age with security issues, I can understand," replied Lawrence. "We're booked in at the Plaza; we'll have an easy night there."

Joe looked devastated. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Oh now don't worry your pretty little heads. I'm going ahead with the show," said Nicholas. "The notice has been out that Jesus is appearing on the show, and the switchboard has been ringing off the hook. The front of house guys sold out of tickets within 4 minutes of the announcement, and we're expecting a T.V. audience 10 times the norm. The commercial breaks have re-sold with revenues almost 20 times the rack rate. The last spot in a break just re-sold at $700,000. Normally we take $35,000 for 30 seconds. OK, where's the gorgeous man?"

"Do you have my briefcase?" asked Joe intriguingly.

"It's right here," said Nicholas, caressing a leather case.

"Here's Jesus," said Lawrence. Jesus was dressed in a smart suit. They discussed cleaning his appearance up following the debacle at Hillsboro, but they decided not to. They wanted Jesus to look real. Apart from the suit, he still looked like a first century man from the Eastern Mediterranean. In a token gesture towards modern hygiene standards, he was bed bathed before he left Hillsboro. The man looked every bit the part, longhaired, bearded, and very tanned. The scabs on his head showed where the crown of thorns had been. Joe bandaged the wound in his side, but that was under the suit. More bandages covered the holes in his feet and hands and he wore loose sandals. He walked gently with a stick to help him. It was only seven days since Phil and Tom cut him down from the cross.

As soon as Nicholas saw the man, he knew he was genuine. He saw the press footage from Hillsboro, and recognized Jesus instantly. "Oh you are handsome. I don't suppose you could wear a white robe," asked Nicholas. "This is all very well, but you look too -"

"Modern," finished Joe. "I predicted that and have brought one. It's not authentic. When he arrived with us he was wrapped in a shroud."

"I really don't suppose you've brought that?" squealed Nicholas.

"I anticipated that request too," said Lawrence, producing a brown paper package from his case. Nicholas waved it aside. He obviously wasn't interested in seeing it beforehand.

"Well you have just under three hours before we go live. Would you care to join me for dinner?" he concluded, passing the smart, black, leather briefcase case to Joe.

The metal bird arrives at its destination. I must have slept, as it is now dark. We are in one of the magic chariots. There are many here. My friend is really treating me like a child. He's trying to tell me all I have to do is talk to the powerful man. He says that if I do this, many people will hear the word. I know it is the love of money that drives him. I must speak to Philip.

My friend will not stop talking at me. Why does he treat me this way? The time is coming I must find a new disciple. I meet a funny man. Maybe he can help me with my mission on earth. Maybe then, father, you will allow me to enter your kingdom. The new city is a wondrous place. There are miracles and magic everywhere. I am afraid man has the power now. I know the funny man has troubles. He does not think I am your son. He thinks this is a trick. He speaks one thing and thinks another. He will be with you soon, father. Take care of him.

They duly 'did dinner'. Nicholas barely seemed to talk to anyone other than Jesus. Jesus didn't reply to him once though. It really was quite comical. Joe, Lawrence and Melissa couldn't interrupt, so after trying for a while they gave up. They just let Nicholas talk. Joe could feel tension growing between Jesus and himself. He wondered if it was such a good idea to put Jesus on such a public stage so soon. Since the fiasco at Hillsboro, they needed to do something, and Joe had run out of ideas. At least this might earn him another celebrity client. The show was set to be unusual to say the least. Normally they tape the shows during the afternoon. This gives them time to edit out the wrinkles and make them presentable to the television audience. This show would be live due to time constraints. This was a first for Nicholas - doing a live show, but he was ready. It was his finest hour. This interview would make his career for life. He finished in make-up and the front of house people allowed the audience into the theater. Nicholas insisted there were extra security checks on the audience. He didn't want a nutcase blowing up the studio with Jesus on stage. They went through the usual 'before show' warm ups.

Finally, it was time for the broadcast. Nicholas couldn't wait. The show's normal opening credits showed scenes from major East Coast cities, and they re-worked them for this episode to show pictures of Jerusalem. The new theme song blared out from the orchestra. The announcer gave the names of the guests, there were only going to be two, a doctor called simply, Joe, and Jesus. They decided not to embellish this man's claim. There would be no 'Son of God', no 'Messiah'; they would just refer to him as Jesus. That way, if or when it all turned out to be a hoax, there would be minimal comeback and little chance of litigation. The announcer introduced the orchestra and then went on to introduce the host of the show - Nicholas Miller. There was pre-recorded applause.

Miller walked out on the stage. He was wearing an outrageous light purple suit. He now wore a yellow shirt and a maroon tie. From the moment he stepped out, the show started to go badly. His opening monologue was wooden. It lacked the usual sparkle. The jokes in it were poor and very un-funny. His normal scriptwriter was on holiday, and despite last minute calls, decided not to come back. Miller wrote the script himself, and it showed.

He started with a joke, which he downloaded from the Internet.  
A burglar broke into a home and looked around. He heard a soft voice say, 'Jesus is watching you.' Thinking it was just his imagination, he continued his search. Again, the voice said, 'Jesus is watching you.' he turned his flashlight around and saw a parrot in a cage.  
He asked the parrot if he was the one talking and the parrot said, 'Yes.'  
He asked the parrot what his name was and the parrot said, 'Moses.'  
The burglar asked, 'What kind of people would name a parrot Moses?'  
The parrot said, 'The same kind of people who would name their pit bull Jesus.'

The audience groaned. It was vaguely funny, but Nicholas completely messed the timing. More jokes followed. Some were blatantly politically incorrect. Other comments cast aspersions on Jesus manliness. The switchboard started to ring with callers complaining. Then they had their first commercial break. Nicholas heaved a sigh of relief and crossed over to his desk. It wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. He had to make it good. The station earned just under two million dollars from the 90-second break.

He had some more banter with the audience, and with his orchestra leader. Because it was all ad-libbed, the delivery was far from smooth. He knew the show was becoming a shambles and he hoped the first guest would pull it out of the mire. He had his 'top-ten' to go and then he could introduce Joe. The top ten were ten facts about Jesus you didn't know. He wrote the list, but somewhere between giving it to the producer and it appearing on the autocue, someone changed it. He didn't remember half the items.

For example,  
Number 4: 'Jesus had ten disciples initially at the last supper, not 12.'  
Number 10: Echmoth is the Wisdom of death, which is called "the little Wisdom.'

This last one really surprised him. He never heard the word before. He read it, and neither he, nor the audience understood what he meant. Staid applause told him that it was time to move on rapidly to his guests. He made a mental note never to try script writing again.

The interview with Joe did not go well. It is always a difficult interview as the schedulers put a commercial break in the middle. This time to maximize revenue they had two. Nicholas had his list of questions ready. Joe identified himself as the doctor who treated Jesus. He went into some detailed medi-speak about the condition. Half the audience lost themselves with the technical terms. He told the audience about the major wounds, the hole in Jesus' side, the holes through his hands and feet. His descriptions were quite graphic and the other half of the audience didn't appreciate this either. Joe now alienated himself from his public. He mentioned that Jesus arrived at his surgery very much alive. There was no case of rising from the dead. The audience was disappointed at that information. The interview lacked any sparkle and intrigue. Then Nicholas asked him about the shroud. He said he heard Jesus arrived alive, yet wrapped as a corpse. Joe agreed with this and said he had the shroud of Jesus with him. There was a gasp from the audience. At last, they were going to see a holy relic. Joe produced a brown paper parcel and unwrapped some cloth. He asked Nicholas to help him display it. The two men stood up and stretched out several pieces of white linen cloth between them. The material appeared new. The audience was silent. They thought they were going to see a replica of the Turin Shroud, which has the image of a man ingrained into it. The cloth bore no markings whatsoever. There were bloodstains on it, and some stains that Joe said were from embalming unction, but that apart, it looked new. The audience was unimpressed. A few whistles and catcalls suggested they thought it was a fraud. Joe's testimony definitely underwhelmed the crowd. He carefully folded the sheet and sat down again.

Finally, Joe announced that if anyone wanted to contact him, they could email him at Echmoth@hotmail.com. Nicholas noted that word again. He made a mental note to ask Joe about it after the break, but in the confusion and heat of the show, he forgot. Now it was time for the main course.

The interview with Jesus himself was next. Nicholas could speak Hebrew adequately, but he doubted his audience would understand. They arranged for a Hebrew speaker to sit in the back stage office, and type the conversation as it happened into a computer. The machine would automatically translate the text into English and flash it as subtitles on the TV transmission. The crew fitted a surtitle board above the stage, where the audience could follow the interview too. There was yet another commercial break as Jesus entered the studio. The special effects team and the make-up department did their job well. He was dressed in a simple white robe, and looked resplendent. The hair stylist groomed his hair and beard to perfection. Any trace of a 60s 'hippy look' was replaced with modern teen-friendly image. The studio team fitted a powerfully backlit white screen behind him and when they turned this on, Jesus appeared to glow. He settled down. Nicholas asked him if he was ready and the front-of-house man counted them down to the start.

"And now my main guest, possibly the most important man to walk the earth in 2,000 years, and he's a dream boat, Jesus."

There was thunderous applause. The man in the chair certainly looked the part.

"Welcome Jesus," Nicholas started. He breathed. Normally when he was underway, he felt calm, in control. Today he felt anything but.

"I'd like to welcome Jesus to the Nicholas Miller show," (more applause). "Yesterday, this man arrived at a Police Station in Hillsboro, Oregon. Tonight he's my guest. This man has visited us to give you his Second Coming message," (damn he thought, too religious). "This man bears the stigmata, the marks of crucifixion. Would you like to look at one of his hands?" The audience yelled confirmation. He reached out and gently took one of Jesus' hands. He held it up so the audience could see the bandages.

He turned to Jesus, and in Hebrew said, "Can you remove the dressing?" Jesus unwound the bandage and showed the audience the stitched hole. Considering it was only six days old, it healed well. The audience gasped. Nicholas was winning.

"He also has holes in his feet. Would you like to see one of those?" Again, there was an enthusiastic shout from the audience. This time he reached over and grabbed Jesus' ankle. He lifted His left foot. Without Nicholas asking, Jesus unwound the bandage. There was another gasp from the audience.

"This man also has the spear wound from the Centurion in his side. You wanna see it too?" He joked with his crowd. There was more tumult from the audience. Nicholas' fear completely faded. He was in his stride. He said to Jesus, "can you show them the wound on your side?"

What Nicholas didn't know was Jesus' complete lack of modesty. First century concepts of sexuality and censorship were different from those of the 21st century CBS bosses. The show was live. Nicholas didn't know that Jesus declined the invitation to wear any underwear. The consequences of an extremely fit 30-year-old man lifting his robe on live T.V. were predictable. Within seconds the switchboard started to flash incessantly, three old ladies in the audience fainted and the front-of-house crew helped them out, and all over the gay world, men were proclaiming Jesus as an icon. Nicholas said nothing. The moment had overtaken him. He hadn't expected this turn of events. He needed to take the show back into his control. The audience was in uproar.

Eventually he persuaded Jesus to sit down, re-robe and the audience settled. He said to the camera, "Jesus has a message for us all, and he's asked to deliver it. He speaks Hebrew and not English, so we've arranged a translator to flash his words" (groan from the audience at the word flash) "up on the board above." He pointed to the surtitle board.

He turned to Jesus, and in Hebrew said, "OK my friend. Now is the time to deliver your message."

Jesus carefully chose his message. Two thousand years before and it went down well. People now called it the "Sermon on the Mount." Jesus wanted to set out for the followers the types of people who would receive his father's blessing. This would be a powerful way to say to the modern world how to gain his father's approval. He began in Hebrew, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Translation software is notoriously unreliable. No one tested this particular suite. There was no time. They had less than 12 hours to prepare for the guest. The transcriber faithfully and correctly entered the Hebrew text and the translation software put out the live subtitles.

It said, "Especially in the wind, they credit that the kingdom of heaven." The audience looked confused.

Jesus continued, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

The software said, "Blessed is he who mourn, for they will be consolation." The audience was now silent.

"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth," said Jesus.

"Hanoim credit, because they will inherit the Earth," and so it went on.

The rest of his speech came out as, "Blessed is he who is hungry and thirsty for Justice, that they will be satisfied.  
"All that credit they will receive mercy.  
"Levav, that credit Berry they will see God.  
"Hello bastards, credit that they called people of God." This brought a snigger from the audience. Rude words always do that.  
"Blessed is he who were persecuted for righteousness, for they have the kingdom of heaven.  
"Welcome to you when people insult you and persecute you, false to say all kinds of evil against you because of me.  
"Rejoice and be glad, wage in heaven is great, that in the same way they chased the prophets who were before you."

By the end of this simple passage, the audience was in fits of laughter. They thought it was a joke. Not one of them appeared to be listening to the actual words of Jesus, they couldn't understand the language, and anyway they couldn't hear it over the laughs. Then one man started chanting, "Joke, joke, joke, joke." Almost immediately, the rest of the audience noticed this and joined in. Someone started slow hand clapping and within seconds, Nicholas had an angry mob, slow hand clapping and chanting at him.

Nicholas was devastated. The show made him look a fool. He didn't know if it was sabotage by his crew, Jesus and his people or some outside influence. They still had 20 minutes of show to go, but he knew he couldn't handle it. He simply stood up and walked out of the theater. He slowly climbed the stairs to the 13th floor, walked to the roof edge at the front of the theater and jumped off.

Jesus was also upset. He had tried his hardest. He had done everything that was asked of him. He knew there had been a problem with something when he was delivering his message. He couldn't see the surtitle board and wouldn't have been able to read it anyway. Nevertheless, he knew somewhere along the way his message had become corrupted. He shed a small tear and then determined he would try again. He hadn't been through everything from the crucifixion onwards to give up now.

The show had descended into a farce. Jesus himself saved the situation. He stood up and held up his hands for silence. He held out his arms in a gesture of welcome. Somehow the stage magic of the set worked. The white backboard glowed brighter and Jesus appeared to be standing in the shape of a cross. He appeared as the figure of Christ the Redeemer on the rock in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. A camera slowly zoomed into his face and for the first time the public saw his eyes. These eyes demanded attention. They demanded you to look at them. The image captivated the audience. The camera relayed the image on television screens by the side of the set. The camera zoomed in so far that all you could see were the eyes. The intense blue color startled the viewers and they bored into their minds. The moisture from his tears made them gleam in the theater lights. The eyes hypnotized the audience. The chanting and the clapping slowed and stopped and they became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. They could feel the power of the man, the power of the eyes. They waited for him to speak. They were ready to listen. It was not a joke. Without the distraction of the surtitles (the production crew turned them off), Jesus started speaking. Very simply and in perfect English, strongly accented, he started talking.

The words he chose were familiar to most of the people in the audience. Jesus spoke clearly, softly and powerfully. "Our Father in heaven, may your name be kept holy. May your Kingdom come soon. May your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us today the food we need, and forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us. And don't let us yield to temptation, but rescue us from the evil one."

The audience strained to hear it, but they knew in their hearts the words he said. Half of them knelt down, the other half rose to their feet. Where Jesus found the words, no one knew. It was so simple it was perfect. When he finished, the auditorium was silent. A single member of the audience started applauding. One by one, others joined in. In less than a minute, every member of the audience was on their feet and everyone was clapping furiously. The ovation lasted many minutes and when it finished Jesus just said the single word, "Echmoth" and walked off the stage. He was a hit after all. Technology failed, interviews failed, props departments failed, but the simplest message of all worked. At that exact moment Jesus walked off stage, Nicholas passed the outside of the theater on his way down to his death.

## Chapter 12 \- Gone walkabout

If the appearance in Hillsboro awoke a rumble of interest in Jesus, the spot on the Late Night show created an earthquake. Technicians analyzed the footage, and corrected the subtitling error. Later repeats displayed the correct message from the Sermon on the Mount. People at last understood what Jesus meant. Jesus' blunder with lifting his robes appeared on outtake TV for a decade, with a star over the offending body part. Teenage girls and gay men would be exchanging uncensored copies of the screen grab for many years. The technical guys set the section with the Lord's Prayer to new-age music and religious organizations used it as a motivational religious piece. Editors relegated Miller's own death to a single column on an inside page. His failure eclipsed by Jesus' success.

That would all be for the morning and for following days. Tonight the team needed sleep. They discussed the possibility of flying back the same night, but everyone was too tired and at the same time too hyped-up. It was an interesting night, in many ways. The police took them out the back entrance, so they didn't see the chaos at the front of the theater where the combined forces of ambulance, police and coroner were clearing up the body. Nicholas fell right through the entrance canopy on his way back to earth. It came as quite a shock to the ticket touts who were standing there. The theater staff immediately cordoned off the area. A police car was passing as Nicholas crashed through the canopy and the crew kept the public back. One strange detail showed in the official photos and those released to the press. Written on Nicholas' forehead in large black felt tip pen was a single word. Security cameras showed him leaving the auditorium. They could track his movements' right to the edge of the roof. He didn't pause and he certainly didn't write on his own forehead. A clear image on a security camera monitoring the roof just before he jumped showed nothing. No one entered the crime scene and the police were there instantly. The word on his forehead was meaningless to most people. The police never worked out how it appeared there. They wondered if Nicholas could have written it himself as he fell, but that was highly improbable. Besides, no felt tip pen was ever found anywhere near the body. The writing simply said 'Echmoth'.

The front-of-house people took the public out the theater by side doors, while the authorities hosed down the street. Joe, Lawrence, Melissa and Jesus, spent the night at the Plaza Hotel. They booked in by phone during the journey and arrived around 1am. The Institute picked up the cost of the rooms, just under $3,000 for three rooms for the four of them. Joe insisted he shared a room with Jesus, as he didn't want him going walk-a-bout during the night. The clerks appeared confused and wanted to put Joe and Melissa together, but all three rooms were next to each other and they quickly sorted things out. If the desk clerk recognized Jesus, he didn't say. He was trained to be totally discrete. The team re-dressed Jesus in his suit and provided him with dark glasses, even though it was 1am. He could have been any passing rock star, trying to remain inconspicuous. There was one photograph of him at the Plaza in the next issue of the National Enquirer, but whether that was a photo from a member of the staff, or lucky paparazzi, they never found out.

Room service brought their meals in to Joe's room and they had a chance to relax. Joe enjoyed the caviar service and insisted they shared two bottles of 1996, Vintage Brut, Rosé, Dom Perignon at a mere $1800 a bottle to celebrate the success of the night. The others joined him in the champagne but made do with burgers from the grill. They decided they didn't need a third bottle, much to Joe's disappointment. After all, he just collected a smart black leather briefcase with a million dollars in it. Still, there was no point in spending any of it when the Institute would pick up the tab.

"I didn't understand why you wanted to take Jesus on the show," said Lawrence. "But now I see it was a publicity stunt to put his message out. I really can't tell where this is going, though. What do you think the future will bring?"

"Well," replied Joe. "We can't deny the fact the man is here. I have no idea about his future. I haven't tried talking to him about that yet. It's too hard just trying to make him understand about the modern world. It's like talking to a child. He never seems to answer me."

Father, why do they talk about me and not to me? Why do they think I cannot make decisions for myself? I'm not a child. The doctor is not listening to my words. He makes money from your ministry and is wasteful in his ways. He is like Pilate, fat and greedy.

"You'll have to talk to him soon about his future. We can't keep him locked up like a trained monkey forever. It's reminiscent of 19th century freak shows," said Melissa.

"We'll see in the morning," said Lawrence. For now, I'm off to bed, and he left to go to his own room. Jesus was already getting into bed, fully clothed.

"You ought to take off your suit," said Lawrence to him in Hebrew. "It's not good to sleep in that." Jesus stripped and slid under the bed sheets. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed.

"I'm scared of the future," said Melissa. "I need someone to assure me it's going to be alright." She looked straight into Joe's eyes as she said this. She thought he looked strong and in control. She'd drunk too much champagne and her mind was unfocused.

"It will be," said Joe. "With my contacts we'll make sure everything works out." He fixed her look and returned it. In his eyes, he could only see an attractive woman, who wanted something. He sensed lust since the first day they met. He felt a tingle start in his groin.

"Can you promise me it will be?" Melissa reached out and held Joe in a firm embrace.

"I can never promise. But I will do all I can." He returned the hug. He was a married man. He never strayed, but Melissa was so efficient, so attractive, and he was lonely tonight. Sheila would never know. His pants were starting to fill out.

"Will this help a promise?" She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"It's a start," he voiced his thoughts aloud. He returned the kiss. It was a full, lingering kiss. They were both adults, they knew what they wanted. His lips parted slightly. His tongue danced over hers. She pulled back a mere inch.

"Come to my room," whispered Melissa. "I don't like it with him watching." She nodded towards Jesus. Her hands reached to his shirt and started to unbutton it.

"He's sound asleep, I really don't want to leave him," breathed Joe. He unbuttoned her blouse and cupped her breasts in his hands. He could feel his underwear straining for release.

"It's up to you if you want this," she replied as her hands reached behind her back and undid the clasp on her bra.

Back home in her mansion in Glendale, Sheila was lonely. She desperately missed her husband. Every time he was away, she hated it. Nevertheless, she would wait for him. She would always wait for him. She quietly cried herself to sleep.

I can see the funny man did not know what to say to me. I can see people do not understand my simple message. Father, please help me. You still don't speak to me as you did before, but tonight I feel your presence in me. Thank you for sending me the words to say - your special prayer. I can sense the people understand that. I will pass your message on to the people again. Look after the soul of the funny man. He was very confused. I do wish my friend here would talk to me about your mission. If we can work together, we can spread your glory. Yet again, he shows his lack of humility and his greed. I do not want to stay in a palace like this. He spends all his time trying to tell me about the world we are living in. Yet I don't need to understand. It's not Jerusalem. It's different, and I understand that.

I do not know how to contact Philip. Maybe he will find me. I sent him a signal. We see if he replies. I'm tired and confused. Now the two people here leave the room. They go to have sex and will not return soon. They are not married to each other; the man is an adulterer. Father, you will punish them for this. They show greed, lust and gluttony. Now they engage in infidelity. I go out and look for some people to help. Some people who truly understand your message. When we came here to the palace, the magic chariot went past a temple that my friend called a 'Cathedral'. He said it was your temple in this city. I go there.

"He's gone again." Joe couldn't believe his eyes.

His frenzied, passionate 30 minutes with Melissa were the best he'd had in years. His wife just couldn't satisfy him like that. Although they agreed it was a one off, both of them hoped there would be an encore. Joe was sure Jesus was asleep when they left. Now Joe saw he was gone again. Thoughts of the time with the radio station in Hillsboro came flooding back in his mind. He rushed back to Melissa's room and knocked on Lawrence's door on the way.

"Dress and come to my room now, it's urgent," he called through both doors.

They gathered quickly in Joe's room. "I only left him for a minute," he said exchanging guilty glances with Melissa. "He can't have gone far. He knew it was more like 30 minutes, but he wasn't going to admit that.

"Let's check with the hotel security," said Lawrence.

They rushed downstairs and cornered a desk clerk. All three of them spoke at once.

"We've lost our companion."

"He becomes confused and wanders."

"Have you seen him?"

"Did he go out?"

"Are there security cameras we can look at?"

"Is there a manager here?"

At 2.30 in the morning, the clerk was sleepy himself. To have three people rush up to his desk and start bombarding him with questions was just too much. "QUIET ALL OF YOU," he shouted. "Let's have one at a time, and be quiet, PLEASE." He made his point.

Joe started. "Our companion has gone missing. He is apt to sleep walk and may have come down in a state of undress. We're very worried about him. Has he gone out?"

The clerk, called the bellhop and they confirmed Joe's worst fear. A man answering Jesus' description indeed left the hotel, wearing what appeared to be a linen smock. When Joe asked how long ago it was, the clerk answered about 30 minutes.

"I thought you said you only left him for a minute?" enquired Lawrence.

"That's not important now," said Joe. "We have to find him. I have a few contacts here, but I'm loathed to call them at 2.30 am."

"Do you have any ideas which way he went?" Melissa asked the clerk. The clerk picked up the phone to the Bellhop.

"The Bellhop says he didn't want a cab, or at least he didn't ask him for one." He spoke again down the receiver. "He says he seemed foreign. He wondered if he was Arabic." There was another exchange of words on the phone. "He says he turned right, along the park, heading for 5th Avenue."

"Tell him he's just let Jesus out," said a frustrated Lawrence.

Joe interrupted the recrimination. "I reckon I know where he was going. As we passed St Patrick's on the way here, I told him it was God's temple. I reckon he's gone there. Can we take a cab please?"

The cab cruised slowly along 5th Avenue. Fortunately, the one-way system in New York allowed them to take that road from the Hotel to the Cathedral. They didn't see Jesus, but when they arrived at St Patrick's, there was a crowd of hobos gathered outside. "I reckon he's in the middle of that," said Joe.

They paid the cab off. There, indeed, was Jesus. He had a small crowd of hobos round him. He was speaking softly to them in ENGLISH. They all wore smiles on their faces. When he saw Joe and the others, he scowled. "You want me to come with you now?" he said to Joe in Hebrew.

"Yes, now please."

Jesus called out to the hobos as he left. "Please, look for Philip. I want to speak to him. Tell him Echmoth."

Joe heard Jesus speak these words clearly, and again they were in English. He stored this in his memory. He was secretly furious that Jesus left, angry that he wandered off, and very confused that he now appeared to be able to speak English. He was immensely relieved he hadn't left the hotel naked, or met with the press again. They hailed another cab and went back to the hotel. No one said anything until they were once again all back in Joe's room.

"What do we do now?" asked Melissa.

"Sleep now. I'll keep guard tonight. I'm not going to mention this to him. I fear he's losing his mind. We'll have to guard him 24 hours a day or keep him under lock and key for his safety. When he's back at the Institute I'll consider calling in a psychiatrist friend I know."

They don't understand I can learn their tongue. Father with your help it has been easy for me. I have listened to them for days now and speak a little. I understand enough. I meet some people who need your compassion father. Help them and help them to deliver my message. They are the poor of the earth and they will inherit.

First thing in the morning, they flew back to Hillsboro. On the plane, Joe checked his email. He had 483 emails in the Echmoth@hotmail.com account. Two hundred and thirty two of them were spam, or from teenage girls, gay men or curiosity seekers. One hundred and eighty nine of them were of a religious nature, asking for personal appearances, endorsements of preachers or healing for sick friends and relatives. Exactly sixty of them were from companies asking Jesus to endorse their products. One of them claimed to be from the secretary to the Secretary of State of His Holiness the Pope, and the last one came from an account headed 'Son of Philip'. The spam and the religious orders emails were deleted, marked spam and block. He could look at the requests for endorsement later. He saved the Pope's email but the one that caught his eye was the one from the 'Son of Philip'.

It was this last one he read first.

'Be careful. You are meddling in things you don't understand. I know Echmoth. For 2,000 years, I have been putting things right that have gone badly wrong. You know I am not a crank. My agent died when trying to assassinate the imposter Jesus. I will not fail next time. At this time, you are not on my list. This can be changed.' It was signed Philip.

Joe appeared to have attracted a sect that nobody knew anything about. Maybe the email came from a rambling lunatic. There were enough of those around. He had many questions in his mind. Some were there since he remembered the word daubed on his parent's bedroom - 'Echmoth'. Who was the dead man laying on his parent's bedroom floor the day of their flight from Israel? What was the reason for the attack on him? What was the connection between all these events? He drafted a simple reply.

'Does the name Leopold Jacobowitz mean anything to you?'

The final email was from the secretary to the Secretary of State of His Holiness the Pope. Joe thought that was the largest mouthful of a title he had read in a long time. Pope John Paul III, the new Pontiff was making a mark. At 54, he was the youngest Pope for over 100 years. He was also the first Pope in history from the U.S.A. He was an extremely controversial choice and it already threatened to cause a split in the church. Many years ago, long before he was Pope, long before he was a cardinal and even before he was Archbishop of Washington, his first notable position in the church was as Archbishop of Oklahoma City. While in the post, his name was associated with a cover-up concerning one of his bishops involved in a choirboy sex scandal. The courts completely exonerated him and the newspaper that spread the story paid his chosen charity a huge amount of compensation. Nevertheless, the paper printed the accusation. Mud sticks. The email was very polite and said simply 'His Holiness, Pope John Paul III would appreciate an audience with Jesus.'

Joe thought this one would be worth consideration, but only after his psychiatrist established Jesus' state of mind and declared him stable and sane. He went back to the requests for endorsement. There were 60 emails in this category. One was from Rola Cola. This new soft drink was taking the nation by storm. However, they did need a celebrity to head their campaign. The email was long and complicated. At the end of it, they offered Jesus eighteen million dollars to endorse their soft drink. Joe put that one in a folder 'Reply needed'. He went through the list. Kitty Chunks pet foods, $1,000 offered. This he deleted. Many of them offered small amounts and these all followed Kitty Chunks. In all he deleted forty-four emails. One email came from a minor Democratic hopeful. It didn't appear to have party backing, and anyway, Joe didn't support any political party. People lost too many friends by supporting the wrong one. He deleted that. Fifteen emails remained which offered Jesus five figure sums plus for endorsements of reputable brands. He pondered these. He was not poor, nor from the sound of it the Institute. However, one can never have enough. He decided to try to put Jesus on the commercial market.

Looking through the list of products, he decided it was a choice initially between Rola Cola and a new iPhone knock-off. Rola Cola won in his mind and he drafted them a reply. "Jesus would be very happy to discuss the endorsement of your product for a suitable fee. Please contact his agent on this email address." With the work done, he settled down to sleep the rest of the journey. As he dozed off, he looked at Melissa. He hoped he would dream of her and of their time together last night. He did dream, but a strange image peppered the reverie. It was indeed Melissa as he hoped, but every time he started to kiss her and looked into her eyes, they were an iridescent, intense blue. They bored into his mind, compelling him to admit he was wrong. Each time he awoke with a start. He knew he could never look at her the same way again. The eyes projected themselves over hers in his mind and that image would be ingrained there forever. He knew he would never lust for Melissa again. He also knew from this moment on it would be hard to have a conversation with her. He wondered if she was having the same problem.

After they landed back at Hillsboro, they all went back to the Institute. Everyone decided it was a very long couple of days and everyone wanted a break. Except for the fact, they had their guest to supervise. Lawrence volunteered to watch him for the evening and Melissa said she'd do the night shift. Joe was free to have the time off and they could all meet the following morning.

Joe passed a very uneventful evening at his hotel, catching up on some reading and watching the news. He was amazed that the only topic of news on any channel was Jesus. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. The main unanswered questions were; where had he come from and what did he want? Was it peace and redemption or death and the apocalypse?

## Chapter 13 \- A Commercial Break

First thing in the morning, Joe checked his emails. He was astounded. There were just over 1,500 emails in the Echmoth mailbox. They consisted of the same proportion of spam and requests as before. There was only three from the entire list that he didn't delete. The first was the shortest and the simplest. It came from the Son of Philip. It simply contained one word, 'Yes'. He had to sort back through his sent box, to see the question he asked, and then he found it. 'Does the name Leopold Jacobowitz mean anything to you?' Philip replied 'Yes.' That set Joe thinking. He had now the evidence he wanted that there was a connection between this secret organization and their flight from Jerusalem. There was a dead man in his house. There was the word 'Echmoth' scrawled on their bedroom wall. He knew they left their home in a hurry once before. His mother confided in him that they left Germany quickly. It was in 1945, before he was born. The family lived on the road and in hiding for 3 years until they arrived in Jerusalem. He was born somewhere on the road. He didn't even know where, not even in which country. He could remember very little about this time, but he did remember being happy. The family was whole. They were good times and his family was close then. After they went to Seattle, they were never a unit. His father tried to change their religion. His mother resisted. His oldest brother moved away from them emotionally. His father died while he was only 16 and neither of his brothers would talk to him about it. Now circumstances stranded Tom 2,000 years in the past. He could never reconcile with him. He genuinely hoped he was happy. His instinct now was to move on. Ignore the whole Echmoth thing. If he ignored this Philip, he had the feeling he would ignore him. However, man is a curious beast and he couldn't resist. He replied with as much brevity as he could. There was one word in his reply, 'How?'

The reply pinged back in seconds. The recipient must have been checking their email at the time. It merely said, 'You don't want to know'. If you tell someone that you don't want to know something, it automatically makes you more curious. He fired back, 'I do'. The reply came quickly again. He didn't expect the answer. It said simply 'He was a friend'. Enough thought Joe. I'll go for the direct approach. 'Leopold Jacobowitz was my father. I'd like to meet to discuss his death and clear his name. Please contact me to arrange such a meeting.' The answer came with the hoped for swiftness. It said 'If you see me it will be the day you die. Do not ask any more questions for your own sake. The false Jesus is a traitor to the faith. Stop helping him.' Joe now received a direct warning and some advice. He rarely listened to anyone, but he didn't want to play this game anymore. He decided to give the whole matter some thought and talk to Jesus about it. When he mentioned the Son of Philip before, Jesus seemed to think he was his friend. Here he was saying Jesus was a fake. The easiest person to talk to would be the man himself.

He moved on to the next email. It was a simple one from the secretary to the Secretary of State of His Holiness the Pope. He read it and because of its contents decided to check if it was genuine. He forwarded it to his IT friend. He knew the guy was quick; he virtually lived at his computer. He settled back to wait for the reply. Five minutes later his computer pinged as an email came into his inbox. The reply said 'I have checked the email address. It says it comes from john_paul_iii@vatican.va and the detailed trackers bear that out. The .va emails are highly restricted. I checked the IP address of the sender. The source code of the email is 212.77.11.215 - this confirms it came from the Vatican City. In my opinion, either it's from a very clever hacker based inside the Vatican or it's genuine. My money would be on the latter.' Joe didn't understand the technical language, but he did understand it said there was a good chance it was genuine. The reason he wanted to double check the authenticity of the email was its content. It said, 'His holiness Pope John Paul III is desperate to meet Jesus. He will arrange to fly to the United States to meet the man at any place, date or time to suit. Please confirm receipt of this and details for this meeting. His Holiness is not concerned if the man is genuine. This is an urgent request. Your reply is awaited anxiously.' Joe decided not to ignore this and made it the number two thing to talk to Jesus that day.

The third email he kept was from Rola Cola. Following today's trend for simple emails, this one merely accepted graciously Jesus' agreement to endorse their product. It confirmed their offer of eighteen million dollars and then confirmed they would pay this amount in 12 monthly installments of 1.5 million dollars each. The only work Jesus would have to do would be one day's filming to compile some footage. They would graphically edit this to put any background or specific product with it. They would make the first payment immediately. They offered the following 11 payments monthly, as long as Jesus stayed a commercially viable figure. Joe knew this meant as long as no one discredited him, proved he was a fraud or he became involved in some illegal activity that made his sponsorship of the product undesirable. It went on to suggest they wanted to film soon, ideally before Jesus' wounds healed to save the make-up crew time and work reproducing the wounds. Joe knew again this meant so the first adverts could go out on air immediately rather than wait. If they were paying eighteen million to Jesus, a few dollars to a make-up crew would not be a concern. There was a number at the bottom of the email, which he decided to telephone there and then.

"Rola Cola, how can I help?"

"I'd like to speak to Trent Dumont please."

A moment later and a couple of clicks, a voice answered, "Trent here."

"This is the agent for Jesus; can we talk about this deal?"

"Sure, you realize that speed is the essence for us?"

"Yes, that's obvious. When would you like to make the film?"

"How about this afternoon? We can fly a crew available in Oregon where I believe you are, and film around 2 p.m. if that's of interest? We could be finished in half a day and Jesus would be quite a lot richer. If the money's not of interest, then he can donate it to charity."

"I can't 100% say it's OK, as Jesus is not with me at the moment, but it sounds like a deal. I'll telephone you back in an hour. Can you still come at that sort of notice?"

"Yes, it will be OK. An hour will be fine to sort things out. Which airport shall we arrange to arrive at?"

"Hillsboro is the most convenient. Jesus lives around 15 minutes from there. What sort of location would you like?"

"We sort of talked about a forest or a lake - is there anywhere near you that would suit?"

"There's a lake called Henry Hagg Lake which would do. We can film there. When I phone you back I'll arrange transport for you and a crew."

"Excellent, I hope you'll be happy with Jesus. He's a bit of a handful. How will you pay?"

"Can we pay by check? Our account's department will settle up within seven days."

Joe heard that one so many times before; he wasn't falling for it now. "I'm sorry, but checks are not acceptable to my client. He would prefer to be paid by cash on the day of the filming."

"If this is really the man who appeared on the Miller show, we will bring a large suitcase of cash for the first payment O.K.? The following ones can be via bank transfer if that's agreeable."

"I like large suitcases of cash. I'll phone you within the hour to confirm."

"OK. I'll look forward to hearing from you later."

"See you, soon." Joe hung up and smiled. He finished dressing and drove to the Institute. Lawrence greeted him in the reception room. "How did you sleep?" he asked.

"Very well," he replied. "How's Jesus?"

"He's doing fine. He's up and eaten breakfast. He seems refreshed."

"Can I see him?" he walked through to the surgery. Jesus wasn't in his bed. He felt for a moment he'd done a runner again, but with that, Jesus walked past the door.

"How are you?" he asked in Hebrew.

"I am OK," Jesus answered in English.

"When did you learn to speak English?"

"I speak a little. I learn quickly."

"To make it easier for you I'll still speak Hebrew, but it's nice to see you're very bright. Where did you learn the words for the Lord's Prayer at the show?"

"My father gave me those."

"I need to ask you two things. Can we sit down and chat?"

"OK."

They sat and chatted. Jesus readily agreed to the Rola Cola deal. Joe had the impression he'd enjoy that. He liked the idea of putting his message out helping another company as well. Joe didn't mention eighteen million dollars. He then went on to the subject of the Pope and told him that this was the chief high priest of Jesus Church. Jesus jumped at this one and said he wanted to meet him as soon as possible. That left the tricky subject of Echmoth. Joe said to him, "Can I ask you about Echmoth?"

"The son of Philip is my true disciple. He keeps my father's message pure. I know that Philip will keep his word to me and make sure his sons follow to the last generation. He knows the secret of Echmoth. People who corrupt the true word must die."

With that, he went quiet and refused to say any more on the subject.

Father, today will be good. I talk to men who can spread your message everywhere. These men are more powerful than the funny man I saw before. They use the same magic to spread your word. I hope they will help me find Philip. My friend here seems more relaxed today. Later I will give him your message and tell him what he must do to receive your blessing. If he repents and gives up his pride, he can enter your kingdom.

Joe called Trent Dumont at Rola Cola within the hour as he promised.

The film crew set off from L.A. by jet, and the Institute's truck picked them up at Hillsboro airport. It took them out to Henry Hagg Lake. Joe and Jesus set out in the limo and met them there. Joe hoped this was going to be a light break for everyone and a profitable deal for himself at that. Joe was a bit worried about the weather. He could see storm clouds in the air and it threatened rain. However, Trent and his crew seemed happy enough. Joe and the Limo driver found a sheltered cove, and offered it to Trent for his approval. He declared it perfect and told Joe he wanted to film Jesus walking on the lake. Joe helped them unpack a lightweight platform, which they bolted together in the water. This gave a stage to stand on about three feet square just under the surface of the water. With the angle of the lake bottom, they could put this about thirty feet out from the shore. The crew put a small flag on it so they could see where it was and started work setting up the cameras. They wanted Jesus to stand on this platform, and recite the lines. They gave Joe the contract. It all appeared very normal. He read it thoroughly, and checked it was all standard. They would pay him 1.5 million in cash immediately after the shoot, and then 1.5 million by bank transfer every month for a year after that. Joe knew he should keep this quiet from Jesus, as he wouldn't understand. He wasn't exactly stealing the money, just taking a 100% commission. He would ensure Jesus received an adequate supply of cash to live on. Trent needed Jesus' signature, so Joe took the paper over to him. They were just out of sight of Trent and anyway Joe had his back to him. Not wanting Jesus to ask any questions Joe signed it himself. He handed Trent the contract and Trent saw a large scribble that could have been anything where 'Jesus' signed. Trent witnessed it. The contract was legal.

Trent gave Joe the lines for Jesus and the three of them went over the script. Joe slowly explained to Jesus that he had to stand on the platform in the middle of the lake and hold up a jug of water in one hand. On cue, he would empty this into the lake. In the other hand, he would hold an empty Rola Cola bottle. Trent told Joe that the special effects guys were going to fill up with Cola during the post shot editing. It would appear that Jesus was pouring the water out; it was flowing through the air and landing in the cola bottle as R.C. Joe went through the words, probably 50 times, until Jesus could say them flawlessly. "Water to wine for me is fine; the boys from Rola to turn water to Cola."

Jesus said to Trent, "I want my message."

"What do you want to say?"

"I want to say, Echmoth, speak to me."

"I don't understand, can you explain?"

"I want Echmoth to speak to me."

"Who's Echmoth?"

"He knows. He will hear the message. He will speak to me."

"OK, I guess. You say the lines we've given you and you can say Echmoth at the end."

"You are a good man. Not greedy like my friend. You will go to the kingdom of my father."

This little exchange of dialogue unsettled Trent, who didn't understand a word of it. If he had to, he could cut out the word Jesus said. As long as he delivered their speech, that's all he wanted. By now, the weather was closing in and the rain was imminent. Trent knew they needed to go fast and so he asked the makeup lady to touch up Jesus' appearance. Joe dressed him perfectly in the obligatory white linen robe and sandals. Trent commented on the weather. How the shot would be perfect if there was sunshine on Jesus. The drama of the clouds and the pending storm, would contrast magnificently with the peace and calm of the lake immediately around Jesus. The water at the platform was about two feet deep, so Jesus hitched up his robe and walked out there. Trent sent a luckless crewmember out with him to dry him and make sure he settled on the platform. Trent said, "OK, ready."

Jesus simply said, "Stop." It was about to rain and the sky was really black. The last thing Trent needed was a reluctant superstar.

"We have to roll now, please say your words." Then he added, "Cameras roll." The machines started recording. The sun reflector boy did the best it could to highlight Jesus on his platform. There really was no light; Jesus was going to need touching up in the studio.

Jesus shouted, "Stop."

Trent said nothing. He could hear the cameras rolling. They had plenty of disk space. It didn't matter how long they shot for. The rain started across the other side of lake. They could see the storm line fast approaching. A squall was coming their way. "Please Jesus, just hold up the jug and pour the water out. The S.E. boys can do the rest.

"STOP"

"Really Jesus, we have to film this now. We can't stop." The squall was about 100 yards away. The surrounding sky was pitch black. Lightening started cracking in the distance. Trent knew this was going to be a disaster.

"STOP"

The squall arrived. It should have hit the platform with high winds, driving rain and enough waves to knock Jesus into the lake. O.K. it was only two feet deep at this point, so he wouldn't have been in danger, but that wasn't the point. They would have to dry him, change his robe, wait for the squall to pass and start again.

There was no rain.

In fact at the exact moment the squall hit the platform, the wind and the rain stopped.

An area of about 50 feet around Jesus stayed dry.

The waves stayed calm and only small wavelets lapped over the platform.

"LIGHT"

Incredibly, through a complete freak of nature, the clouds above Jesus parted. It was just a chink, but the different layers of cloud must have lined up perfectly so the sun could shine through. Ninety nine percent of the sky was black, lightning was streaking down in the distance and a beam of shining sunlight hit Jesus full on. The rain from the storm accented the beam, making it appear just like a follow spot in a smoky theater. With this light on him, Jesus held out his arms wide in a gesture of welcome. The jug was in one hand, the bottle upright in the other. He said powerfully, "Water to wine for me is fine; the boys from Rola turn water to Cola. Echmoth." He poured the jug of water into the lake and a freak gust of wind made it blow into spray as it left the jug. A second freak lighting effect made the Cola bottle go dark at exactly the same time and the effect was complete. To all eyes, the water left the jug and the Cola bottle filled. Trent and the boys applauded. The effect was magical. If they built a set on stage, if they employed a team of expert CGI people working on the shot they couldn't have come up with a better scene. Moreover, the cameras captured it from the beginning. Trent didn't know why Jesus said stop. He didn't know what was going on, but when Jesus walked slowly from his platform in the lake thirty feet back to the shore, the cameras showed that his feet didn't sink more than an inch into the water. Jesus walked on the surface of the lake to the camera. He handed the props to Trent. The Cola bottle was full of a dark brown liquid. Trent said nothing.

The crew packed up the gear and left. The whole event freaked them out. Joe received his briefcase of money from Trent who started mumbling. The commercial went on to win no fewer than three Grand Clio Awards, the commercial equivalent of the Academy Awards. There was a special award given to the effects team, despite the fact Rola Cola used it virtually untouched. They simply edited together the film from the three cameras. They had a long shot, a close up of the cola bottle filling and a close up of Jesus' eyes. The eyes sold it, the penetrating bright blue eyes. They didn't even add a soundtrack. The thunder provided all the drama they needed. For graphics, they just used the close up of the Cola filled bottle. It was a one-take wonder. It came out exactly 30 seconds long and the final version showed Jesus walking back on the surface of the lake. The company arranged for the commercial to air for the first time the following day and sales of Rola Cola went through the roof. People were trying it and could not drink enough. They appeared to be addicted to it. Stores sold out nationwide. Jesus saw the commercial and was furious. They actually made one small edit. They cut the word Echmoth.

Father, what can I do? The man has disobeyed my instructions. He uses my work and does not fulfill his promise. He will become a rich man from your deeds. Help me accept this and not to seek vengeance.

Two days later an inspection by the F.D.A. showed that Rola Cola contained high levels of cocaine. The factory was checked and clean. The manufacturing process was triple checked and every bottle that left the plant was drug free. Twenty-four hours after leaving the plant, any bottle they checked contained cocaine. The scientists deduced some chemical reaction inside the bottle made the narcotic. The F.D.A. withdrew the license on the product, several states started class action suits, and the government hinted at a federal suit. The Rola Corporation filed for bankruptcy. Two weeks later, police found Trent's body in a bizarre accident. The coroner said he drowned in three inches of water in his second floor bathroom. Careful inspection of the scene ruled out both homicide and suicide. He recorded a verdict of accidental death. The only unexplained thing about the whole affair was a word tattooed across Trent's stomach. The coroner said the tattoo was new, less than an hour old. None of the local tattoo parlors acknowledged making such a mark. Trent's wife, invalided and confined to a downstairs room, confirmed he did not leave the house for several hours. The word in large black gothic-style letters was 'Echmoth'. Joe never received any further payments on his contract.

## Chapter 14 \- The Pope

When they returned to the Institute, Joe took the opportunity to have a quick word with the others. He decided to gloss over the filming of the commercial and merely said it all went well. The team learned the truth over the next few days from watching the commercials themselves and the press releases on the cocaine scandal. Joe told them about the Pope. They were interested that the man seemed so desperate to contact Jesus. Joe opened his computer and deleted a whole lot more emails. He found another from the Vatican. 'We have received read receipts for our previous two emails. We know you will consider His Holiness' request seriously. We would appreciate an acknowledgement and a decision from Jesus as soon as possible'. Three emails in two days. This guy was becoming a stalker. He composed a reply, which he showed to the team. 'Jesus would be pleased to grant His Holiness an audience. As he does not have any travel papers, a meeting here in the United States is preferable. He can grant the audience at any time, please offer him at least 24 hours notice. A location on the West Coast of America is preferable as he is currently in the Portland area of Oregon.'

"That should put the cat amongst the pigeons," said Joe.

"I can't wait to read the response," echoed Lawrence.

Joe wondered about asking a fee for the audience with the Pope. However, he couldn't work out if this was appropriate or even possible. He knew the Vatican was ridiculously wealthy, and decided to put on hold requests for money. They could follow later.

The following morning when Joe checked the Echmoth hotmail account there was the reply from the Vatican. It said, 'His Holiness Pope John Paul III has decided to make a visit to his home country of the United States. His intention is to be in Portland Oregon on Sunday week, the 25th. He will preach mass at St. Mary's Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Portland on that day at 11 a.m. He would be honored if Jesus would attend the mass and grant him an interview either before or after.'

Joe read the email to Lawrence and Melissa, who both agreed with the concept. A quick call later to the Archbishop of Portland caused the man virtually to expire with anxiety. He received an email himself from the Pontiff, which he read a mere hour ago, and that caused consternation. Now he would be meeting the alleged son of the father. The press already had wind of it. Although the announcement of the Pope's visit was a surprise, these things are normally organized months or even years in advance, the schedule fooled no body. The Pope was to spend one day in Washington D.C. on Friday where he was Archbishop and then elevated to the Cardinalate before his election to Pope. Here he would hold mass in conjunction with the current Archbishop. He would then spend the day on Saturday visiting El Santuario de Chimayo, a popular shrine in New Mexico. He intended to hold a final mass in Portland on Sunday, and then fly straight back to the Vatican that afternoon. This three-day visit seemed unprecedented. The fact that he hadn't scheduled a meeting with the President, the fact that he hadn't offered to meet any other denomination leaders, and the fact that he intended to visit a remote shrine (albeit a popular one) was lost on most people. The one thing most people saw was the Pope was going to Portland - to meet Jesus. The press noticed this and the news was full of the story.

The next ten days passed almost without incident. Jesus and Joe appeared to patch up their differences. Jesus' wounds healed remarkably quickly and his grasp of English was astounding. He didn't go walkabout again and he settled down to be an asset to the team. He undertook cleaning chores and because of his ability to speak English, he started to fit in with Lawrence and Melissa. The Institute lost its main purpose when the research in time travel ended. They were considering their future and considering that of Jesus. If he progressed at the rate he was, he would soon be able to leave their protection and start a life of his own.

Joe took three days out and flew back to see his wife. She was delighted to see him. He bought her a number of expensive presents and promised to take her on a luxury cruise when the mission ended. He didn't tell her about Melissa and vowed he would never stray again. For her part, Sheila was delighted to see him. She made a real fuss of him and happily accompanied him on all his shopping expeditions. She loved the diamond necklace he bought her, and positively glowed when he gave her the keys to the new Porsche. He arranged for her to go to a health clinic to lose a little weight next time he was away. He thought she might have been over-indulging while he was in Oregon. He returned to the Institute a happy man.

His greeting from Jesus was that of an excited man. First, he genuinely seemed happy to see his friend and second he wanted to show off his skill at English. "I learn about the Pope. He is an important man. He will help me."

"Yes he's an important man. Did Lawrence tell you about your church?"

"Yes he told me. He says I am a big story. He showed me a book. I did not read it. I looked at the story." Lawrence obtained a children's cartoon bible with pictures of the New Testament story. Jesus devoured this and wanted Lawrence to tell him the stories in detail, which he did, as far as the language would allow him.

"You know on Sunday you will be meeting the Pope? Is that OK with you?"

"Yes I want meet the Pope. He is a nice man. I speak with him."

Now Joe didn't know what Jesus intended to say here. Did he mean he would speak to him, at some time in the future, did he mean he had already spoken to him. Perhaps he was even speaking to him now. He went and saw Lawrence. "Has the Pope phoned?" he asked.

"No, not that I'm aware of," replied Lawrence.

"Jesus said he's spoken to him, or maybe he meant he will speak to him, I'm not sure."

"He told me he spoke to him yesterday. I asked when and he said last night. It's impossible of course as he can't use the phone, but I didn't disillusion him."

"You don't think he has some sort of extra terrestrial connection to the Pope do you?" asked Joe.

"Now you're being silly," said Lawrence.

"If you told me a month ago I'd be tending Jesus and he just travelled forward 2,000 years in time I would have told you that you were silly."

"You have a point."

The two men left it there. The next couple of days went quickly. Jesus learned rapidly. He was the best pupil anyone could imagine. He devoured information. The media was full of the Pope's visit. The Pope's movements and actions seemed to intrigue Jesus. He watched the news coverage avidly. The news channels showed pictures of his trip to Washington D.C. Fans and protestors both numbered in the hundreds outside the cathedral. The protestors had placards, which referred to his alleged cover-up scandal. His congregation did not like him, and a sex scandal is not the best background for a Pope. The mass itself went without a hitch. The media televised the entire event and Jesus didn't move during the screening. He did not appear to be completely happy with the scene.

Father, I despair. They have made a mockery of your message. I am a simple man and require simple men to have faith in you. Here is a man they call the Pope. He takes the simple message and makes a mockery of it. They have turned the Passover feast when I gave the Disciples their instructions into a sham. The followers of your message have grown rich and fat on your word. Humble people cannot understand the ceremony connected with the celebration. This Pope will not enter your kingdom. The world has gone mad. They have turned your house, the place where people worship into temples of Solomon. Time is coming soon when I must cast out the moneychangers again. The evil men take over the celebration of my life, symbolized by the eating of bread, and the remembrance of me shown by drinking wine. I must restore the simple message.

On Saturday, the Pope went to El Santuario de Chimayo. Here he had a long and unscheduled meeting with a man, which completely threw his timetable out. The hour-long discussion caused him to miss his walkabout with pilgrims to the shrine. When one newspaper asked him about this, he said he had important things to discuss with the man and the meeting was fruitful. Things would start to right themselves. He reported the man now believed Jesus was the true Messiah and he was satisfied with him. He declined any further comment on the matter.

On Sunday morning, before the others woke up, and before Joe arrived from his hotel, Jesus opened the emergency door to the Institute. Outside was a man in his sixties. He talked to Jesus for a few minutes. At the end, the two kissed on the cheeks and Jesus returned inside.

Father, thank you for helping me to meet my brother. Philip has come. He is my true disciple. He knows the killing truth. He knows now I am your true son. Eighty generations have passed since the first Philip came to visit me. This is the last generation. I will work with this man and guide him in his mission - to restore your true word.

Jesus wore his suit, and cleaned up. The secretary to the Pope arranged for the audience at 1 p.m., and suggested Jesus attended the mass. Lawrence and Jesus both agreed to this, whereas Melissa and Joe were reluctant. In the end, Jesus prevailed. The concept of Jesus accepting the host from a Pope presented strange theological implications, but they decided to go along with it. The secretary to the Pope offered a chance for Jesus to give a sermon, but Joe won this battle, saying after Jesus' last few public appearances, it was better he didn't.

The four of them set off to the Cathedral at 10.30. The police greeted them and took them in a back door through the vestry. They were taking no chances with the crowd. There were many people blocking the small street outside; including a much smaller contingent of protestors than in Washington, D.C. Portland Cathedral was not a large building and was not used to such a gathering. Joe was receiving hundreds of requests for healing in his Echmoth mailbox and he didn't want the congregation to mob Jesus before he could meet the Pontiff, so he requested special entry. The cathedral was packed. A Deacon showed them to their seats, in the front row, and everyone settled down.

The new Pope was a traditionalist. He re-introduced some of the items that Pope Paul VI abolished. He requested from the Archbishop of Portland a number of Assistant ministers. The Pope asked the Archbishop personally to be the assistant priest. He required a number of assistant deacons and a deacon of the mass. The Bishop of the Greek Orthodox Cathedral of the Holy Trinity came over to read parts of the Mass in Greek. The cast list for the solemn entry was long and extensive. The number of helpers was equally long.

The time arrived for the entry of His Holiness. A fanfare from seven silver trumpets announced the entry of the Pope. A Thurifer carried the incense; seven acolytes accompanied the cross-bearer. A sub-deacon carried the Gospel book. The Pope decided not to reinstate the tradition where acolytes carried him in on a throne. Maybe its transport was difficult by airplane. He did have two flabella or fans, on either side. There were four members of the Swiss Guard in full regalia flanking him. They had travelled out specially to accompany the Pope and had brought full uniform. Four other assistants carried a canopy over his head. Pope John Paul III entered wearing the full vestments accorded to his position, the falda, amice, alb, cincture, pectoral cross, stole, and a very long mantum. Finally, he wore the papal tiara on his head. Two pronotries lifted the front of his falda to aid his walking and two chamberlains carried his train. A Deacon carried his jeweled miter and two bishops carried the book and hand-candle. It was an impressive sight to say the least. At the entrance to the chancel, three cardinal-priests removed his outer vestments as far as the cincture, and the pope washed his hands, and put on the vestments appropriate for the celebration of the mass: the sub-cinctorium, pectoral cross, stole, tunicle of deacons, dalmatic, episcopal gloves, chasuble of priests, fanon, pallium, the familiar papal miter and the episcopal ring. He then gave the kiss of peace to the last three of the cardinal-priests helping him dress. He walked up to the High altar and placed his miter and tiara there. The Greek Archbishop remained standing, as was his custom, while the others knelt.

Joe was impressed by the ceremony of the occasion. The Archbishop of Portland was just thankful it had gone so well so far. The number of people, the coordination of the event, had been his problem for the last seven days. As nightmares go, this was the biggest he'd had. Everyone retired to their allotted places, and the service itself began with the Confiteor, the opening prayer. The Epistle was sung first in Latin by the apostolic subdeacon and then in Greek by the Eastern Rite Bishop. After the Epistle, the two sub deacons went together and kissed the feet of the pope. The Gospel was chanted first in Latin by the cardinal-deacon and then in Greek by the Eastern Rite Bishop. Acolytes lit seven candles to accompany the Latin Gospel; they lit two for the Greek Gospel. After the Gospel, the holders brought both Gospel Books to the pope, who kissed both of them. They then started on the communion itself. The Pope elevated the Host and the Chalice and symbolically held them towards the different parts of the Cathedral. The trumpeters played the 'Silveri Symphony'. The sacristan and the cupbearer consumed a small amount of the bread and wine to show there was no poison. Then the Pope received the communion from the Archbishop. A team consisting of the Pope himself, the Archbishop and several deacons then proceeded to offer the communion to the whole congregation.

Jesus did receive the host from the Pope and when the Pontiff offered, he looked straight into Jesus eyes. He stayed there a moment longer than he should have done.

"There is telepathy between them," thought Lawrence. Joe as a Jew didn't receive the communion. Melissa, her mind still whirling from her affair stayed seated too. She thought she might have to take confession soon. She couldn't shake the image of Joe out of her mind. It was an image where she could see his eyes. They weren't their natural brown; they were bright piercing blue ones. She couldn't even look at the man without seeing that image in her imagination.

After communion, the pope received the wine of the purification from another chalice and purified his fingers in a little cup. The deacon and subdeacon, having returned to the altar, partook of the chalice, the subdeacon consumed the remaining particles of the Host in the chalice, and both the deacon and the subdeacon consumed the wine and the water used in the purification of the chalice. The pope then returned to the altar to finish the Mass. He gave a final blessing and gave a personal blessing to the Archbishop. The return procession formed up and just before they left the Cathedral, the Pope added his final words, "Echamoth is Wisdom simply, but Echmoth is the Wisdom of death, which is the one who knows death, which is called the little Wisdom."

With that, he put on his tiara, and walked out of the Cathedral.

After the mass, the three Institute members and Jesus went to the Archbishop's house next door. The Archbishop's maid welcomed them in his absence and then left them to their meeting. The Pope joined then shortly after. He knelt down in front of Jesus and looked up at his eyes. Jesus looked back and his blue eyes appeared to drill into the mind of the Pope. He simply looked at the floor and blushed bright red. Slowly Jesus held out his hands towards John Paul in an almost despairing fashion. It was if the Pope was on trial for his life there and then. John Paul went to take Jesus' hand.

Jesus simply said, "You failed." With that, he simply turned his back on the Pope. John Paul had tears in his eyes. Jesus looked at each of the other people in the room one by one. To them it appeared as if he was weighing their souls.

Joe - greedy, adulterer, thief and cheat; guilty of vengeance and helping criminals; allowing them to perpetrate crimes.

Melissa - guilty of so many crimes of obtaining and supplying illegal goods.

Lawrence - he was the only one with a chance. Jesus would save him. He reached out his hand to Lawrence. Lawrence took it and they stayed like this for a few seconds.

"We go," Jesus said. Before he left, he looked at Joe one last time. He appeared to be staring at the crucifix around Joe's neck. Joe forgot it was there. Jesus reached out and held it in his hand at the end of the silver chain.

"I know this," he said. Then he wrenched it off Joe's neck and put it in his pocket. Leading Lawrence behind him, he walked slowly to the front door and opened it. He looked back at the assembled trio.

"You will not go my father's kingdom. You have no future." Then turning specifically to John Paul he said, "Pappa, you turn my simple feast into mockery. You and all the Pappa after you die. When all the gold cups and all the silver crosses are finished, I will stop. The house of my father is not clean. I will make it clean. I have done it before; I will do it again today. I wanted a simple kingdom and you gave me a rich man's church."

Jesus and Lawrence walked out together. As they did, a man walked in to the room. Neither he nor Jesus looked at each other. They had no need. Jesus knew why he was there. No one else knew what was going on. The man appeared to be wearing a flak jacket over an unknown military uniform. He looked at the three assembled people, Joe, Melissa and John Paul III. Then he pulled a device from his pocket that looked like a small remote control. It was dark gray, about one and one half inches square. There was an orange button in the center of it.

For once in his life, Joe found the courage to be proactive, rather than simply repair the excesses of other people's actions. He reached out his hand in a flash and struck the man's wrist. The suddenness of the blow and the shock of the attack knocked the remote out of the man's hand. It scuttled away from him behind Joe. The man pulled a knife from the back of his trousers. He waved it at Joe and Joe's courage rose. He knew he had nothing to lose. He held out his hands, karate style and started to engage the man. They didn't exchange contact, but the two men circled around each other. Joe knew he somehow had to stop the man reaching the remote. The man in the vest waved his knife in Joe's direction and Joe parried the feints with his bare hands. Melissa in the meantime was slowly crossing the room heading towards the remote on the floor. As the pair circled, the stranger drew closer to the remote. Joe worked him and tried to turn him, but the thrusts and dodges from the knife kept him at bay.

All this time John Paul was on his knees with his back to the man. He had his hands raised in prayer, yet there were no words in his mind to say. He knew he had been tried and found wanting. He was ready to die, and ready for the torment that would come to a man not going into the kingdom of the father.

At the exact moment the would-be assassin was closest to the remote, Melissa dived for the control. If she could knock it away, it would buy them some time, some time for Joe to - But there was no time. Melissa was too late. The man stamped his foot on the remote. His heel connected with the button and the vest exploded. It was a small explosion, sounding more like a damp squib than anything else, but the results were devastating. The vest had only a nominal amount of explosive sewn into it, but a vast amount of very sharp shrapnel. The suicide bomber died instantly.

Hundreds of small pieces of metal flew across the room. Most embedded themselves harmlessly in the furniture and walls, but not all. Joe received several wounds, including a rather large piece in his chest, which penetrated between his fourth and fifth ribs and pierced his heart. Several fragments went into the back of John Paul. The fatal one hit him in the back of his head and burst his skull. It went on to travel through his brain before lodging in the front of his head just above his eyes. A final deadly piece entered Melissa's neck as she landed on the man's foot and severed her jugular; the force of the impact snapped her head forward and broke her neck.

When the Archbishop entered his front room moments later, he noticed one very odd thing. It hadn't been there before. He would later mention it in the coroner's court. Photographs taken in the cathedral service confirmed it. Embroidered in the Pope's vestment was a single word in rather crude large black stitching - Echmoth.

It is done. Echmoth begins.

# 

# PART 3 \- MIKE

# 

## Chapter 15 - Deaths in the family

##

Mike Jackson put down the morning paper. He called out to his wife, who was busy in their bedroom, "This whole Jesus thing has gone off the rails. The newspapers are going berserk over it. People are dying all around and now some nutcase has assassinated the Pope. The President is furious at the secret service. It's a national scandal."

At 67, Mike was a happy and content man. He had little to worry him. His two sons, Philip and John, were grown up, left home and had families of their own. His life was easy and his bank balance was in the black. That for him was no small achievement. It was about to change.

There was a small pile of letters on the table. Mike reached over and picked them up. He saw the usual pieces of junk mail, a bill from the electricity company, and one rather important looking one from Gott and McMurtry, Attorneys at Law in Hillsboro, Oregon. He decided to open this one first. He sliced it open and spread out the single page in front of him.

'Dear Mr. Jackson,

We trust this letter will not come as too much of a shock to you, but we have today been instructed by the Smith Baxendale Institute, to contact you regarding your brother, Thomas. After the tragic accident at the Institute three weeks ago, the Coroner officially listed him as missing. The Institute that employed him at the time has decided to petition the County Coroner and seek a formal death certificate. As his next of kin, we need your agreement to authorize this petition.

Please will you contact Mister Ronald McMurtry at this office, so that we can discuss this matter further?

We offer our deepest sympathies at your loss.

Yours sincerely,'

He was just taking this news in as he heard a car drive down his gravel drive and park in front of their trailer. A car door shut and a man walked up their steps onto the front porch. Mike looked through the fly screen that kept the insects at bay when they had their front door open, which was most of the time. He smiled when he saw Simon standing at the screen. He was an old friend and former colleague from the Cleveland Police. Mike hadn't seen Simon since his own retirement from the force two years ago. He wondered what brought him out to Hopewell today. He stood up and opened the screen door.

"Hi Mike," said Simon. "How y'all doin'? I need to talk. Can I come in?"

"Sure," said Mike. "It's been a long time since I saw you in these parts. What brings you here?"

"Can we sit?"

Mike walked back into the front room and gestured to the sofa. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm sorry to be the one to break this news to you. I'm afraid your brother died yesterday."

"I just received a letter here that says he died three weeks ago," said Mike, picking the paper up off the table. Simon looked at it for a few moments, and then read its contents.

"I'm really sorry Mike," he said. This letter's about your brother Thomas. I'm here to tell you about your brother Joe."

Mike turned an ashen shade of grey. He had two brothers, neither of whom he talked to for years. He didn't even know Thomas was still alive. Now on the same morning he learned that both of them were dead.

"Did you read about the explosion that killed the Pope?" Simon asked.

"I just read it in the paper."

"Joe was in the same room at the same time. He died instantly in the explosion. The Portland police asked me to relay this message to you. I'm very sorry to have to be the one to break the news."

Mike generally lived a contented life. He arrived in Seattle at the age of seven, exactly 60 years ago, almost to the day. He was his father's favorite son and he spent a long time in the yard talking to him while his father worked on their car. His father would discuss everything with him. He even went into some of the details of the sad past the family endured. He'd learned some of the reasons for his family's sudden flight from Israel. He knew that some kind of religious secret society were after his father. He thought his father committed some evil deed in the War, but he was too ashamed ever to tell Mike the details. When his father passed on, Mike was 17. He died in a car crash while he was driving home from the store one day. The lines on his braking system split and his car hit a tree. Knowing how meticulous Lennie was with servicing his car, Mike always believed this was not an accident. He never talked to his mother about this, but he was sure the secret society finally caught up with him.

Mike's faith wavered from Christian (his father's new religion) to Jewish (his mother's faith). He favored the Pentecostal views and sought baptism from the Holy Spirit. Finally, he decided it was time to confirm his Christian faith, and he left home. He was 19 at the time. He joined a branch of the 'Church of God' in Seattle and two years later moved to their Headquarters in Cleveland, Tennessee. It was there he met his wife, Mary. They had a short courtship and married. The following year Mary became pregnant. They had a healthy baby boy. She decided she would stop work for the Church and Mike decided he wasn't as devoted a Christian as he thought. They moved to the tiny town of Hopewell in Bradley County, Tennessee, just outside Cleveland, and Mike found a job with the local police force. Mary stayed at home to bring up their children. Mike progressed through the ranks, becoming a detective at the age of 35 and stayed in that job until he retired 30 years later. This was two years ago and the force gave him a livable pension. He had an uninspiring career. He had no major crimes to solve, yet he was competent and efficient. He increased the rate of solved crimes and left a mark on the Department. Simon was his trainee in the detective force. He became his assistant, and, when Mike left, he took over the role of detective.

Now they lived in a doublewide trailer. Mike bought the plot, an acre of scraggly grass-covered land, and put the trailer there and ten years ago, when their second son left home. He paid up the mortgage on the old house long before and its sale not only paid for the trailer, but also put some badly needed cash into his bank account. In the ten years since then, that nest egg was completely spent and financially they lived carefully now. Mike kept the plot mowed, which in the growing season seemed a never-ending job. He had a small fenced run out the back where he kept his dogs. There was a nice ornamental rock pile by it and he built a timber porch out front. On summer evenings, he loved to sit on the porch with Mary. They would sit in their rocking chairs and look at the tree-covered hills around them. They would drink coffee and look down the gravel driveway to the small road on the other side of their three-rail wooden fence. They seldom saw a car on the small road and the neighbors' houses were out of sight. On many weekends, their sons and grandkids would come and visit. Sometimes they would all go for trips to the mountains for picnics. He would think how lucky he was. Life was simple, peaceful and good.

After Simon left, Mary called out to him. "Who was that at the door?" she asked.

"That was Simon, from the Cleveland Police," he replied.

"What did he want, honey?"

"Come here. I need to tell you something." Mary came out the bedroom and sat beside Mike. He continued, "You remember in the past I've mentioned my brothers?"

"Yes, occasionally, but you don't talk about them much."

"I received a letter today from an attorney in Portland, Oregon. It appears that Tom, my oldest brother, died three weeks ago."

"Honey, I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's not why Simon was here though. He came to tell me my other brother, Joe, died in the explosion that killed the Pope."

Mary was silent. Words couldn't express what she felt for her husband. She just hugged him. After a while, he said to her, "I feel there must be something I can do. I really don't know why Tom died. I know the F.B.I. will be on the case for the Pope, but I feel I should be involved. I know I hadn't been in touch with either of them for a long while, but to hear about both their deaths on the same day -"

He didn't say any more. He didn't need to. They hadn't been married for almost 45 years for nothing. It's in times like this that the natural telepathy between long time partners came into play.

Mary said, "You do what you have to. Just know that I'm here for you. If you want to go and investigate, I'll come with you, or I'll stay here and keep the house ready for your return."

Mary kissed Mike and left him. She went back into their bedroom and cried for her husband's pain. She could feel his retirement from the police was about to end.

The two of them grew together. Their romance was steady and matured with time. They were still deeply in love. They never spent a night apart since they wedded. For Mary to offer to stay home and keep the house showed how she understood what he was going through. If anyone wanted a loyal partner, Mike had Mary. They shared everything. Obviously, Mike needed to keep work confidential, it wouldn't be correct to discuss cases with her, and she understood that. Everything else they shared. They kept no secrets. They bought each other token gifts at Christmas and their birthdays. There was seldom any money to spare and they lived a careful life. Maybe one year Mary would make a sweater for Mike, while he would give her a new pan for the kitchen. Maybe for a birthday Mike would take Mary out for a special dinner. They enjoyed these treats. Although life was comfortable, all their lives they were careful. They made sure the children had enough. They always had new clothes and enough food. Things should have been easier, now that they were grown up and left home. However, the police pension was less than Mike's previous salary and there were always bills to pay. Occasionally one of their sons would treat them to dinner, and in return, they would take their extended family on a picnic. They always made the most of any situation. Today neither of them could think of any bright side to the news Mike just received.

Mike walked into the back bedroom, which he used as his home office. He took the copy of USA today with him. He carefully cut out the article on the death of the Pope. He read and re-read this, until he virtually knew it by heart. The article said that there were two people killed along with the Pope and the suicide bomber. It said they worked for the Smith Baxendale Institute, and the police would release the names when they informed the next of kin. He knew the name of one of them - Joe Jackson.

'I have to start somewhere,' he thought. He looked at the letter from Gott and McMurtry. He picked up the phone and dialed the number in Hillsboro.

An efficient sounding lady answered. "Ronald McMurtry's Office."

"Can I speak to Mister McMurtry please?"

"Can I help you?" Partly because he didn't think that Mister McMurtry would answer the phone, and partly because the voice belonged to a woman, Mike doubted it. He hated secretaries who sidelined the calls to the boss. Today, though, he was not in a mood to argue.

"I've received a letter from you about my brother Thomas Jackson. It says you are looking to file a petition to the local coroner for a death certificate. I'd like to know a little more about the circumstances of his death."

"One moment please, I'll put you through to Mister McMurtry."

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" he mumbled. She didn't hear him.

He did hear her call out "Ronnie, this one's for you." It sounded muffled as if she put her hand over the mouthpiece. There were two clicks and a new voice came on the phone.

"McMurtry here, can I help you?"

"I've just said this once already to your secretary, but I've received a letter from you about my brother Thomas Jackson. It says you are looking to file a petition to the local coroner for a death certificate. I'd like to know a little more about the circumstances of his death."

"One moment please I'll find the file." There was a short pause, Mike heard McMurtry call "Doris, do you have the SBI file?" He didn't bother to muffle the phone.

Mike sensed Doris was the lady who answered the phone. He wondered who really ran the office.

After a couple of minutes, McMurtry picked up the phone again. "Sorry to keep you waiting. It's quite sad, but his death was officially an accident. He was working at the Smith Baxendale Institute when there was a massive explosion. No one every found his body. The Institute's doctor, a Mister Joe Jackson, filed a missing person's report. I've received a request from the Institute that for testament reasons they want to change the status of the two missing persons to certified dead. We need your permission to file a request for a death certificate."

"As long as you're sure he's dead I have no objections," said Mike. His brain was whirling. The newspaper report said Joe worked for the Smith Baxendale Institute. Tom was also working for them. McMurtry said that Joe was the Institute's doctor. The coincidence was beyond belief.

"Can you please confirm that in writing," said Ronald. "Then we can start the proceedings."

"O.K. I'll write to you today."

He hung up the phone. He was now convinced he needed to be involved in this case. The first place to try was Smith Baxendale. He turned on the computer in his office. When it booted, he typed "Smith Baxendale" in the Google search box. There were many results, but they all referred to the news item concerning the death of the Pope. He could not find anything regarding the Institute itself. He didn't give up easily. He reached for the phone again and pressed the re-dial number.

"Ronald McMurtry's Office."

"Can I speak to Mister McMurtry again please?"

"Can I help you?"

"No, I was just talking to him and I need to talk to him again."

"Can I ask what it's about please?"

"No, just put me through to Mister McMurtry," Mike was losing patience.

A muffled voice said, "Ronnie, it's that man again."

A few clicks later and the man answered, "McMurtry here, can I help you?"

"Mike Jackson here again. We were just talking about my brother Tom. You said he worked for the Smith Baxendale Institute."

"That's correct."

"I'm trying to reach them to find Tom's home address and sort his personal effects; can you give me their address and phone number?"

"Certainly, one moment please." Then Mike heard him call out, "Doris, can I have the SBI file again please?"

A few moments later Mike had the information he needed, and hung up.

He paused, checked his watch and decided to call the Institute. He dialed the number and was disappointed to hear a recorded voice.

"You have reached a private telephone number. There is no one here to answer your call."

The machine hung up and didn't offer the chance to leave a message.

Mike knew he had to go there. There was no other way. Unlike his brother Joe, he didn't have access to a private jet. He checked the computer and opened the website for Delta Airlines. He looked for a scheduled flight leaving later that day and returning a week later to from Chattanooga to Portland, Oregon. He winced when he saw the price, just over $900. That appeared to be outside his price range. He checked on Google maps and reckoned the drive at 2,500 miles.

His Dodge Ram truck sat parked on the drive. Like his brother Tom, he used his golden handshake to buy a vehicle when he retired. Unlike Tom, his was entirely practical. The entire $20,000 was used buy the entry-level Ram 1500. He looked after the truck, as he doubted that on his pension he would ever be able to afford to replace it.

If he drove most of the day and slept in the truck, he could do that in two days. With gas at around $3.50 per gallon, he calculated a return gas cost of just $700. He thought about the wear and tear on the truck, not to mention stress of the journey at his age and he made the decision.

"Darling, I have to go away for a few days. I have to fly. I really need to go to Portland Oregon to sort out the death of my brothers. I know we can't afford it, but I'll make up the money somehow. I'd love you to come with me, but I don't see how we can afford a second ticket. We can't really afford one."

"If you have to go, I understand." She kissed him tenderly.

Mike went back to the Delta website and booked the flight. He also Googled hotels in the Hillsboro area and booked in online at the Econo Lodge. He took the flight leaving at 2.50 the same afternoon and arriving at 9.30 p.m. There was an hour's layover in Atlanta. He packed a bag, kissed Mary tenderly and promised her he would be all right. He called his neighbor and asked him to drive him to the airport in Chattanooga. He arrived in plenty of time and the flight to Atlanta was trouble free. While he was waiting the hour, he sat and read the news on his laptop. Every story was obsessed with the death of the Pope. They analyzed the incident in every way they could. He read speculation that Jesus was with the Pope, but no one found a body. In the editorials, he read that given Jesus' history, he might have risen again. Other articles said the police issued an A.P.B. for Jesus. In other news, he read the Archbishop of Portland told the authorities (and the press) of the Smith Baxendale Institute. He said this was where Jesus was staying and where his colleagues came from. None of the authorities could find any information on it. Mike chuckled as he thought they didn't have the advantage of Ronald McMurtry and the annoying Doris. The Secretary of State of His Holiness the Pope issued a statement that said the Cardinal Camerlengo, would receive the body when it arrived in Rome to carry out the correct rites. The body of His Holiness would then go to the Vatican. Mike wondered how they appointed a new Pope. Would there be job interviews? He cynically wondered if God would sit on the interview board. He didn't know.

Mike finally arrived in Portland and rented an economy car. Avis offered him a great deal on a Chevrolet Aveo at just under $20 a day. He drove to the suburb of Hillsboro and checked in to the Econo Lodge. At $60 per night, this was just about within his budget. He ate a couple of burgers at McDonalds and decided to call Mary.

"Hello darling, I miss you already," he started.

"Do you know a Sheila?" she asked, without even acknowledging his greeting.

"No. Why?" He was concerned. She normally gave him a pleasant greeting when he called.

"I've just had a call from Sheila. She said she needed to contact you very urgently. She said she has information for you. I said you weren't here. She asked where you were and I said you went away on business for a few days. I asked if I could take a message. She said she had one from her no good S.O.B. dead husband. She said before he croaked he visited and gave her a letter. He said she could only open this when he died. She went on to say now he's history she opened it. In it, there was a story about a woman he had an affair with and instructions for you. I didn't really listen to what she said. I told her you'd call."

Mike thought that for a woman who said she didn't listen, she certainly gleaned enough information. He was glad she took the time to learn this much. In her place, he'd probably have put the phone down.

"I still don't know who she is," said Mike. "Did she say any more?"

"Plenty, but you don't need to hear all that. It quite unnerved me."

"Why should I care about a woman with a cheating husband and a letter?" Mike asked.

"Because she was your brother Joe's wife."

They finished the pleasantries. Mary was obviously upset and Sheila had given her a rough time on the telephone. He thought of the shock of hearing your husband died, opening his last letter and reading he was an adulterer. He was glad Mary would never be in that situation. Mary gave him the phone number for Sheila, but he didn't feel like speaking to the woman tonight. He'd call her in the morning. He'd had just about all he could take for the day. He switched on the television, went to bed and immediately fell asleep.

The next day he woke up tired and miserable. He hadn't slept well. It was the first time since they married he'd had a night away from his wife. He missed her terribly. She was so upset the previous evening he couldn't forget her. He called her briefly and was relieved to find she was in a much better mood. They kissed each other over the phone and he ended the call feeling happier. The deaths of his two brothers hadn't sunk in yet. He took the detached approach of a detective on a case rather than a brother who had lost both his siblings. There would be time for grief later.

He laid out his Google map, which he printed from the computer, and set off for the location he'd circled for the Institute. Ronald McMurtry told him he had never been to the Institute, but he knew roughly where it was. He told Mike that according to the residents it was an odd structure, and he gave Mike detailed directions to it. It was part way along SW Puma Drive. Mike located that on Google and thought he could see where it was from the aerial photo.

He drove out to SW Puma Drive and stopped at the property he marked on his map. An old man stuck his head out of the window.

"Don't get out your car, just tell me what you want?" he shouted. Mike could clearly see he was holding a shotgun. This was not a friendly welcome.

"I'm looking for the Smith Baxendale Institute."

"You one of them newspaper fellows?"

"No, the Institute employed my brothers. I'm trying to look into why they died."

"They probably died because they worked there. That's the way they all go."

"Do you know where it is?"

"Back aways down the road. However, you won't notice it. It's a queer place. Mark my words they've all left it. It will be deserted now or my name's not Frederickson."

"Can you show me where it is?"

"I'll show you this in a minute," Frederickson said, waving the gun at him. "Now get off my land."

Mike knew he was not going to find any more information, turned the car around and drove off. The old man stayed at the door and watched him drive away. Mike wondered if he believed Jesus was alive and working in Walmart. He'd read that story in the papers too. He retraced his route and came across a series of derelict buildings. If the Institute were used three weeks ago, this wasn't the place. It appeared that no one used these shacks for years. He dismissed them and he drove on. Eventually he arrived back at the end of SW Puma Drive. If the Smith Baxendale Institute was on that road, it was either derelict or invisible. Mike thought a much more likely scenario was the Attorney made a mistake. He dismissed Frederickson as old and senile.

He picked up his cell phone and called the office.

"Ronald McMurtry's Office."

"Can I speak to Mister McMurtry please?"

"Can I help you?"

Mike knew this routine by heart, and today he tried a different approach. "Are you Doris?" he asked.

"Yes I am," she replied.

"Well I know you're the efficient one in the office, so I'm sure you can help me." He wasn't beyond flattering secretaries to obtain the information he needed.

"Thank you," she said. "Most people don't want to talk to me, they always ask for Ronnie. I keep all his files and know everything that's going on in the office as well as most things in the neighborhood. If you want to know anything about anyone, just ask me. How can I help?"

"I'm trying to find the Smith Baxendale Institute, I'm on SW Puma Drive but I can't see it."

"Oh that queer old place," she said. Mike thought that was the second time today he'd heard it described as 'queer'. "It's a derelict dump if you ask me," she continued. "It's just down the road from the Frederickson farm."

"Thank you very much," schmoozed Mike. He knew Doris was going to be more useful than she realized. "You've been most helpful."

He drove back to the derelict buildings he saw earlier. He parked his car and went in the front door. It hung on one hinge and looked as if no one closed it for years. He looked around and saw the trappings of a disused shop. However, it didn't feel right to Mike. The shelves were empty and covered with dust, but it still didn't look right. There was no wear and tear on the shelves. The wood was new. Granted it was dusty and no one had cleaned it in a while, but everything was unused. A dark wood stain coated the shelves, to make them look old, but he could tell it had been recently applied. He went to the back of the shop. There was a secure looking door there. The lock on it was a heavy mortise. He could tell from scratches around it, that people used it frequently. There was no dust on the floor near the door. He tried to open it, but it was securely fastened.

He went outside and walked around the buildings. They formed a large complex. The front of the building was the single storey disused shop. Behind it was an area that was also single storey. At the back, it rose to become about thirty feet high. This back area appeared to be a timber barn. There was a lot of aged wood and concrete. Much of the concrete was painted dull beige, which was flaking. He worked out that this was probably aged artificially. He inspected a number of windows. Every one of them appeared broken, but behind each was a concrete panel, which stopped anyone looking in, or more importantly, entering. At the very back of the building in the high barn section were two doors. One was small and appeared to be a personnel door. The other was a large full-height roller shutter door. Someone used both of them recently. There was no flaking paint on either. He tried both and could not open them. As he was coming back to the front of the lot, he noticed a collection of outbuildings. One had a very large diesel tank next to it. There was a glass gauge on this indicating it was 50% full. Hardly disused he thought. Some of the other outbuildings might have been garages. He saw tire tracks leading into one of them. He deduced from the style of the track, that there might be a sports car parked in there. If he had the resources of his office, he could have told which model of car it was likely to be. He looked under the door. Through the crack under the door, he could just see the underneath of a car.

His conclusion was that this place was anything other than what it appeared. He went back in the 'shop' and hammered on the door. There was no answer. He went back to his car.

"A secret Institute indeed," he said.

He thought about the possibility of sitting and watching the place, in case anyone came in or left. However, Frederickson said they had gone and he had other things to do.

His next call was to the local police station. If he pulled rank a little, he might just be able to find out some more about the Institute. Mike got in his car, and with one backwards glance around the area, drove into town.

## Chapter 16 \- The Isle of Ponza

Popes are usually considerate and die in the Vatican. John Paul III died almost 6,000 miles away in Portland, Oregon. The assassination caused so much embarrassment for the President of the United States, that he personally authorized the release of the body the day after the murder. The U.S. military flew it to the Vatican on the spare Boeing VC-25. This was one of two, which were reserved for the President's official use. If the Commander-in-Chief was on board, it had the call sign 'Air Force One'. Four members of the Swiss Guard, the Pontifical Guard of the Vatican City, accompanied the body from the United States. It arrived at Leonardo Da Vinci airport in Rome.

When the Pope died, it was the Cardinal Camerlengo's job to certify the death. He would check the body, and certify it was that of the dead Pontiff. John Paul III appointed the current Camerlengo shortly after his election. He was a powerful man called Edgar Boon, and was the first American to hold this office.

The Camerlengo was formerly the Archbishop of New York. He relinquished this position to take on his new, commanding role. Specifically, apart from certifying the death of the Pope, the Camerlengo became the head of State of the Vatican City when the Pope died. This was a job he would hand over after the election to the new Pope. Before the Pope's death, he was the administrator of the property and revenues of the Holy See. The value of such property on the Vatican balance sheet is one Euro per item. He wondered if the Vatican would ever consider selling the Pieta by Michelangelo or gold statues of the Saints for one Euro each.

The Camerlengo was 65 years old. He was a quiet spoken American. Prior to being ordained into the Church, he was simple lay preacher. He held controversial views on subjects such as celibacy, contraception and the accumulated wealth of the Church. His appointment to the position of Camerlengo was one of the most divisive decisions of John Paul III. John Paul would only say that he had his reasons and he wanted to remove the Italian domination of the Vatican - a statement that did not win him any friends. Other people said that John Paul conferred the appointment on the Camerlengo, as a reward for supporting his own election as the Pontiff. It was not for nothing that Edgar Boon was called the 'the King Maker'. As Camerlengo, he lived at the Vatican and had his simple offices there. He had a powerful influence among the other Cardinals, although no one was really sure why. Maybe it was his old-fashioned honesty and his simple sincerity. However, for every friend he had, he made an enemy. Those Cardinals who wanted to increase their personal power or fortunes were not friends of his. Many said this holder of the title was in-line for the position of Pope. An equal number said they would not vote for him if he were the last Cardinal alive. Despite his simple appearance, he was a powerful persuader. His position alone gave him the power, yet he hated using it.

It was the job of the Dean of the College of Cardinals, a man called Niccolo Vitelli, to convene the College. He would preside over this meeting. All 175 Cardinals gathered to elect the new Pope in this special Papal Conclave. The Dean was a traditionalist. He was Cardinal Bishop of Palestrini under Pope Benedict XVI and as such was in line for the position of Dean. The five other Suburbicarian Cardinals elected him unanimously to this job. His role was also powerful, but that power only lasted during the period of a Conclave.

The Dean was faced with two overriding problems. One was a question of security. A member of a radical sect just killed the Pope. They demonstrated their objectives with this single act. A Papal Conclave consisting of all the Cardinals would include all the most influential men in the Church. One suicide bomber in the Sistine Chapel would effectively neuter the entire Catholic Church. However, since 1846, this has been the only home for such an august meeting.

The second problem concerned the date. The Dean knew the College should convene between fifteen and twenty days after the death of the Pontiff. The assassination of the Pope occurred on March 25. Fifteen days after this was April 8 - Easter Sunday. The Pontiff took a major role to play in the Pomp and Ceremony of Holy week. Without a Pope, there would be confusion for the Church. Technically the Camerlengo would have to hold the services. The tradition is that the Easter sermons set out the Pontiff's views and message for the coming year. The Camerlengo would find it difficult giving direction in his sermons, which the next Pontiff might wish to change.

One further problem regarding the timing worried him. A Papal Conclave sits until it elects the new Pope. This can be many days, if the College fails to reach a two-thirds majority for any Cardinal. Technically the Conclave could last for up to two weeks. If the Conclave started before Easter and they did not choose a new incumbent quickly, no one would be available to preside over the important Easter services. All Cardinals were expected to attend. Those under the age of eighty can vote. One hundred and ten of the Cardinals could take part in the ballot. It would take two-thirds, seventy-four, to create a majority.

With these problems in mind, the Dean called a private meeting. He met with the Camerlengo and with the two most powerful Cardinals in the Conclave: Alvarez Ortega, Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia, Brazil and Jean Marc de Launay, Archbishop of Paris. The meeting happened the day the Pope's body arrived at the Vatican. The Dean invited the three men to the tiny island of Ponza, off the Italian Coast between Rome and Naples. This place was private, secluded and safe.

The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia was a man of enormous wealth. He was a personal friend of John Paul III and as such grew into a position of trust and power. Fortunately, he was in Italy at the time, attending to matters concerning a new resort development his company was building. In contrast, the Archbishop of Paris boasted no fortune. However, through his offices and work at the Vatican, he compiled a lengthy dossier on every other Cardinal. The information in this dossier was explosive. Over the years, he let every single Cardinal know what he knew. Many of the secrets were deep and potentially damaging. The Cardinals between them had a very checkered history and had many skeletons in their cupboards. The Archbishop of Paris knew them all. He flew to Rome from Paris especially at the request of the Dean.

These four men met in secret:  
Niccolo the Dean of the College of Cardinals, the traditionalist:  
the Camerlengo, manager of the property of the Vatican and the current head of State:  
the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia, wealthy financier, a man used to having his way through bribes:  
the Archbishop of Paris, the man with the inside information on everyone.

It was not the first time these four met. It was, however, the first time they met without John Paul, the former Pope.

They met on the Isle of Ponza. The Dean did not miss the irony in this choice of venue. He knew that Ponza advertises itself as a 'piece of heaven on earth'. The Cardinals arrived by separate means. Each one hired a separate fast boat to cross the 40-mile stretch of water. The Dean did not want to risk losing all four of them to a terrorist attack if word of their meeting leaked. They arrived at the Belvedere of the Giardino Botanico Ponziano, a classical style Summer House in the middle of the Botanical Gardens on the island. They walked around the gardens and took in the lush atmosphere. They enjoyed the smell of the air, which was heavy with the scent of flowers. They luxuriated in the orchid display, which was a blaze of exotic colors. The gentle spring sunshine and the warm Mediterranean breeze warmed their hearts. The founder of the garden designed it to soothe the soul and these men had troubled souls this morning.

After a short tour, the visitors enjoyed a sumptuous luncheon. The Dean paid for this from his generous budget. It included local seafood and cacciatore, which they washed down with the finest Italian wine. After the meal, when they were ready to start the meeting they took their seats in the Belvedere itself. The Dean opened the meeting with a prayer.

"Lord, grant us the wisdom to carry out your wish. Guide our thoughts and actions. Keep our motives pure and our hearts open. Stop us from being selfish, and guide us to a solution to the problems that benefits your will, not ours."

It was short and to the point. The Dean reckoned there was little chance of this actually happening, but he felt he ought to say it anyway. The men all knew each other already and they exhausted the small talk rapidly. They were ready for business.

"You all understand why we're meeting," the Dean started. "We have to decide the date for the Conclave and its location. I'm concerned about Easter and worried about security. Please don't let the un-finished items from the last Pontiff's tenure to sidetrack us. I know there are many. His reforms were too radical. That will be a matter for the next head of the Church. We can discuss who that should be later, after we've decided on the main points I've just mentioned."

The Camerlengo was the first to start offering his opinion. That was his way. He had an opinion on everything. "I think we need to discuss the reforms. Reaching an agreement on some of the issues will determine where I cast my vote. We all know there are many controversial points that we have to talk about."

The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia, jumped in, "I agree. I'd like clarification on the funding question. His Holiness' proposed taxes on the individual churches brought terror to my bishops. That item alone almost caused a schism in South America."

"I can't say the French churches were happy with the proposals either," said the Archbishop of Paris. "We did approve the return of some of the ceremony. The church needs to be separate from the people."

"Let's look at the time and place issues first," said the Dean. Please don't sidetrack the meeting. There will be time later for looking at the choice of Pope and the qualities we desire in him."

"My vote goes for holding the Conclave after Easter," said the Camerlengo. "It would be one mighty rush to have it first. In total humility, I can share the Easter services among the Cardinals. "

"Of course," said the Archbishop of Paris. "The prestige you would gain personally would promote your chance of becoming the next Pope. We all know that's why you want the Conclave later."

"Not at all," replied the Camerlengo. "I just want the event to be held with the proper dignity and not in this awful rush."

"Your judgment is tainted," said the Archbishop of Paris. "Anyone can see that you will benefit if you take the Easter services. The press coverage alone will give you a chance to push your favored reforms, and we all know what they are. I don't agree with your proposals. Everyone knows you want to simplify the rites of the church."

"Please do not bring my politics into the discussion," said the Camerlengo. "I have no personal agenda."

"How many times have you said you want to abolish the Catholic ban on celibacy?" added the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia.

"Not to mention your views on contraception," said the Archbishop of Paris. It was obvious this was becoming heated.

"Please gentlemen," said the Dean, "we can discuss this later. If we can't yet agree a date, let's talk about a place. I'm terribly worried about security."

Once again, the Camerlengo was first with a view. "I agree. The Sistine Chapel makes a wonderful terrorist target. How about having a Conclave on Skype? That way we wouldn't have to meet. It would be cheaper for the Cardinals, and as we would not be together, we would not form a target."

"Since when has cost ever been a consideration?" asked the Dean. Two of the men smiled. "And can you imagine some of the old men trying to use a computer? The technical backup would be a nightmare. It's a nice idea, but just not practical."

"Can I put in a radical suggestion?" said the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia. "How about holding the Conclave away from the Vatican. I know it's unprecedented, but these are unprecedented times."

"Technically, we can't," said the Dean. "Unless a Pope issues a Bull to allow the move, the Conclave has to take place in the Sistine Chapel. However, as we are without a Pope, I suppose the Camerlengo and I between us could make such a decree."

The Camerlengo said, "I'd have no problems with it, depending on where it is. You know my views, keep it simple."

The Archbishop of Paris said, "Politically it would be better to hold it in the Vatican City somewhere. However, there aren't too many suitable locations."

Then the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia declared his hand. "I don't know if you think this is too radical," he said. "But I've just financed the completion of the brand new Ambassador Convention Center and Resort in the Alpine village of Cortina d'Ampezzo. It is not due to open until the first of May, but the builders are finished and we could have use of the facility." Then he added, "For the appropriate fee of course." Again the other Cardinals laughed. They all knew what the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia meant by 'appropriate fee'. The invoice to the Vatican would be from a nominee company and would keep the Cardinal living in the lifestyle he enjoyed for a considerable time.

"I assume the venue is top quality knowing your tastes, Archbishop?" asked the Archbishop of Paris." It will be a pleasant change not to stay in the cells of the Vatican."

"It has been designed to a five-star standard," said the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia. "You won't lack for anything. The conference suite can easily accommodate the entire Conclave. The residence wing has over 200 rooms, which will easily house the Cardinals in luxury."

"It's an interesting idea," said the Camerlengo. "I'm not too sure about the cost implications though, and what about security?"

"It's half way up a mountain, with only a single private road leading to it. If we mount sufficient security on the road, it will be safe. You can take my word on that."

"And if it's not safe," said the Archbishop of Paris, "you won't be around to take the blame!"

After some further discussion, the Dean thought there was general agreement. He said, "If everyone is agreed, can we accept the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia's offer?"

There were nods all round and no dissention.

Salvador had one last request. "Will you bring the traditional regalia? I'm thinking particularly of some the gold from the Vatican Treasury?"

"If you can assure us it will be secure," said the Camerlengo. "I'd hate any losses."

"It is 100% secure. I can guarantee that. There's one more thing. The new Pope will need the cup of the Last Supper. That needs to be brought. There's a strong room safe there and I'll personally guarantee it will be secure."

"It's never been out of the Vatican for over 500 years. The Vatican doesn't even acknowledge its existence. Why should it go outside now? The new Pope can be united with it after the Concave."

"I think if we have Salvador's assurance it will be OK," said the Dean. "There's no need to keep its existence secret anymore."

"I really can't agree," said the Camerlengo. "It's too valuable. The vessel directly conveys the power of God to the holder. It should stay in the security of the Vatican."

"You fuss too much," said Salvador. "It will be OK. Trust me."

"I'm not sure," said the Camerlengo.

"I'll make sure it stays safe," said the Dean. "It will never leave my sight and no one outside this room will know it's going. By the time we're finished there, it will be under the care of the new Pope."

"You're making a mistake," said the Camerlengo.

"O.K. Thank you Cardinal. I've made my decision. The first Papal Conclave since the 1800s will be held outside the Sistine Chapel. It will be at Cortina d'Ampezzo. We'll take some of the treasures of the Vatican to show the press including the cup of the Last Supper. I'll draft a press release after this meeting, but of course, I'll not mention the Chalice. Now can we move on to the question of date?"

This point proved not to be as easy to reach an agreement on as the venue. Arguments ranged round. The Camerlengo was obviously in favor of the meeting after Easter, the Archbishops of Paris and Salvador both favored before Easter and quickly too. In the end, the Archbishop of Paris broke the stalemate. During a break from the discussion, he walked quietly over to the Camerlengo.

"Tell me Camerlengo," he started, "what's this plan I hear to sell off some of the major treasures from the Vatican and give the money to the poor and needy? Is it true that John Paul III and you were talking about a major PR coup?"

"How did you hear about that?" asked the Camerlengo.

"So it is true; I wondered. We'll hold the Conclave before Easter."

When the men reconvened, the Camerlengo said, "I've been thinking about the discussion over the break. Maybe it would be better to have a newly elected Pope take the Easter Mass. As long as we can agree on our candidate, we can finish the whole meeting in 24 hours."

"That was a sudden change of mind," said the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia, "Are you sure there isn't another reason. I've never known you come round so quickly before."

"No, it's just I now think it's the best thing for the Church."

"Well, that's your normal style," muttered the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia.

"I agree to before Easter," said the Dean, "does anyone object now?"

No one answered. "OK," he said. "Can we agree on Monday the 2nd of April?"

Everyone nodded.

"It will be an almighty rush," he continued. "The Cardinals have a long way to travel, but in these days of air travel and email communication, it can easily be arranged."

The meeting was back on track.

"We now just have the matter of who is going to be the next Pope. We need to agree here and ensure we can swing at least two thirds of the Cardinals. We have to conclude the Conclave as quickly as possible. It can't overlap Easter. We have to be able to count on seventy four votes for our chosen candidate."

As usual, the Camerlengo started. "Does anyone have a suggestion outside one of the four of us?" he was blunt and to the point.

The Archbishop of Paris replied, "I was thinking of Paul Philippe le Soucey, Archbishop of Tours. He's 76 years old and in good health, so he should be stable. The French Cardinals would readily elect him and I have an interesting dossier on him."

The three other men looked disappointed. They each fancied their own chance at the job. They spent years, working their way to the position they were in now and each of them wanted to take on the leader's role. This wasn't a popular suggestion.

Eventually, the Camerlengo broke the silence. "I have three names for consideration; the Dean, the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia and myself. We all know we want the top job. Why not be honest and open?"

"I'd never considered the possibility," lied the Dean. "But do you think I could do it?"

The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia was more honest. "I considered myself for the role. If you think the time has come for a South American Pope, I'd like to offer myself."

"I still think we should consider Paul Philippe," said the Archbishop of Paris. "I have complete control over him."

"So he would be your puppet?" said the Camerlengo. "Why don't you want to stand yourself?"

"And have to deal with you three on a daily basis?" said the Archbishop of Paris. "I'd never be independent. I can count on at least 18 votes from my favorites in Western Europe."

The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia said, "I have 19 votes from South America. There may be others I can sway."

The Camerlengo added, "There are 12 Cardinals from the United States and Canada. I can count on their votes at least."

Then the Dean said, "There are 23 Italian Cardinals. I have the largest single vote. I would strongly offer my own services. Would you consider me for the job?"

The Camerlengo added these up as he went. "That makes 72 votes. This will only work if we all vote together and pull our friends behind us. We still need two more to make the number. There are many from Africa and Asia who are unknowns. Maybe someone will promote an Asian or African candidate. Then we would never win the majority we need for a quick resolution."

They sat and pondered this. They had no immediate solution.

"What about the Eastern Europeans?" asked the Archbishop of Paris. "If we can swing them we have the majority."

"I doubt we can count on them," said the Dean. "Look at the last time they block voted. John Paul II was a good man, but he was hardly the initial obvious choice."

The debate ranged round who they could count on, what favors money or threats could buy, until they were finally happy they could muster close to eighty votes. It all depended on the four men agreeing one candidate. The wrangling started again. No one wanted to back down.

The Archbishop of Paris once again played a trump card that dramatically changed the debate. He quietly took out his mobile phone and sent a text message. Five minutes later, the Camerlengo received a text. It simply stated, 'Withdraw your offer to stand, we'll meet at the Sanctuary tomorrow. Do not fail me.' He recognized the number. His phone just said 'Philip' as the sender.

The Camerlengo said, "I have to withdraw my candidacy. Something has come up. I have to go to New Mexico urgently. I'll go via the Vatican, certify the Pope's death and then take an emergency flight to the USA. I'll agree with whatever you three decide. Please keep me informed." With that, he stood up and walked out the room.

Two of the other three were surprised. The Archbishop of Paris broke into a thin smile. They all knew when the Camerlengo mentioned New Mexico, where he was heading. The discussion now centered on three candidates; Paul Philippe, the favored French candidate, the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia and the Dean. It was essential they reached a conclusion.

"You know my strengths," said the Dean. "I've been in the Vatican a long time. If there are any traditionalists I can count on their vote."

"You'd be surprised," said the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia. "I can sway many votes. It's amazing what money can buy."

"Don't forget the power of a secret," said the Archbishop of Paris. "I know a great number of things many Cardinals would rather weren't made public, no matter how traditional or greedy for money they are. And don't forget, my dossiers contain information on you two as well."

This left them all thinking. It appeared the Archbishop of Paris would take the upper hand. The power of a secret did seem to outweigh the strengths of the other two.

"I've been thinking," said the Dean. "Providing we can reach an agreement, I'll swing my votes behind the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia or Paris."

"What agreement are you looking for?" asked the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia.

The Dean continued, "There's one important point we all avoid talking about; one subject we don't discuss. I want to reach a deal on the demands of Philip."

The Dean spoke the name of the one man in the World that they all feared. They knew he was behind the death of John Paul III. The word, embroidered on the Pope's vestments when he died said everything they needed to know. The visit the Pontiff made to the shrine in New Mexico was no coincidence. They all knew this was the headquarters of Philip. His power was one of the secrets of the Church. Recently he was more active. The men had all seen the sign of the man - the word Echmoth - in the news, too many times in the last year. Now the Dean wanted to make a deal concerning his power.

"We all know he wants to curb the power of the church. We know he wants to take away our wealth and remove the ceremony from our services. We have kept him in check for 2,000 years. At times, he has been lax and we have flourished. Now he has appeared in a commanding and powerful incarnation. This embodiment of the man is active and militant. He hated the reforms John Paul was making. He said they were retroactive and that is why the Pope died. We may not like to talk about it, but we know it's true."

The other two said nothing. They were uncomfortable discussing this subject.

The Dean continued. "I'll support anyone who will pursue reforms that will satisfy the man. I have personally talked to Philip. He has threatened the lives of all of us unless we agree to his demands. We know he said that Jesus offered man a Kingdom. In its place man gave him the Church."

There was stunned silence. Eventually the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia said, "I can't go along with this. I receive too much from the Church. Without their money and the connections I have, I cannot continue. How do you think I funded the Resort where we are holding the Conclave?"

Everyone looked at the Archbishop of Paris. They were waiting for him to break the deadlock.

"I've been thinking," he said. "There are two sides to this. We all know the Camerlengo has gone to see Philip. If the man says jump, we jump. We are scared of him. On the other hand, we need the money the Church gives us. We revel in the power and ceremony attached to it. If the truth is known, we all covet the position of Pope. We are forgetting one other important factor in this matter - Jesus. No one has spoken to him. IF he is the man we think he is, he is the head of the church. Maybe he should be the Pope?"

Now they were stunned. The Dean replied, "I propose that we meet Jesus at the Conclave. We all agree here and now to go along with his proposals, whatever they are. If he wants the churches changed, who are we to argue. If he wants the wealth redistributed it's not our place to try to change this. If he wants to be the Pope, the job is his anyway. He gave Peter the power in the first place and the Popes have just been Peter's successors ever since. After all, whose church is it? Maybe he wants the job back."

"We're taking one enormous risk aren't we?" asked the Archbishop of Paris. "I don't have any influence over him."

"That's a good thing," said the Dean.

"I know I can't buy him either," said the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia.

"That's good too," repeated the Dean.

They discussed this revolutionary idea. There was logic to it that they could not fault. Philip was Jesus' direct servant. He would agree to whatever Jesus wanted. If Jesus were the leader of the Church, his influence and threats would disappear. They were terrified of Philip. They were terrified of losing their influence. They were terrified of losing their wealth. They were more terrified of being killed. In the final analysis, they saw no logical alternative. They still thought they wanted to move away from the Sistine Chapel. They were not 100% sure this would all work. However, they saw no alternative.

The Dean drafted the final press release. He invited the Cardinals to attend the Papal Conclave at Cortina d'Ampezzo in the new Ambassador Resort. It would be on Monday April 2. They would not announce to the press that they invited Jesus to attend, or that they were taking the most secret of the Vatican treasures - the cup of the Holy Grail - God's telephone.

Privately as a group, they agreed they would abide by his directives. Alvarez however, had his own agenda and would never agree to losing his wealth. Secretly he hadn't agreed to anything. He had his own plan.

Father I know what these men want to do. Only one is true and pure. All the rest want only money and power. They do not care about your message. These men will feel your wrath. The good man goes now to see Philip. I will see them all soon after.

## Chapter 17 - Law and Order

On the same day as this meeting of the Cardinals in Italy, Mike arrived at Hillsboro Police Department. The Chief, George McCarthy, boasted a long and distinguished career. The 115 sworn officers in the town's Police Force all looked up to him and held him in high regard.

Mike went in and asked for the Chief. He introduced himself to the desk sergeant who showed him into a small interview room. The Chief came in and sat down behind the desk.

"How can I help you, Mister -" he paused. Obviously, Mike's name hadn't registered with him.

"Jackson, Mike Jackson," he started. "I'm trying to investigate the deaths of my two brothers, Tom and Joe Jackson. I'm a detective with the Cleveland, Tennessee Police department." Mike hoped this small white lie, the fact he was now retired, wouldn't be a problem.

"I'm sorry about the deaths. That place up in the woods is certainly queer. There's a lot of odd goings on there. They are terribly secretive and that's their business. But when their employees go a-blowing themselves up, that's our business."

"Can you tell me anything about Tom? He was the first to die and he died at the Institute according to the evidence I have."

"We knew there was an explosion there. It killed two people - Tom Jackson and Phil Baxendale. Phil was one of the partners in the establishment. How can I put this delicately? Orders came from high up, that we didn't need to investigate this matter. We filed a missing person's report and that's all. I believe their attorney is filing for death certificates. That was the end of it, until, that was, the next death."

"The next death?" Mike asked.

"Yup, one of their employees died a few days later in their operating room. The coroner recorded it as accidental. It wasn't, but again orders came from on high. They didn't spend the amount of money they did on getting me elected for me to ignore orders concerning them. Then there was the assassin who killed the Pope and two more of their employees. I tell you it's a dangerous business whatever they do."

"What do they do?" asked Mike.

"Lord knows, I've never heard. Some sort of research I believe. When Jesus visited us, their boss at the time, Lawrence said he was living there. If that's the case, and they found him, their business was something to do with that. Either they were contacting God or it was time travel." He laughed heartily.

"Are there many more employees left? They seem to be running out of them," Mike asked.

"I really can't tell you. I know Lawrence; well I met him once, and a couple of the others. Maybe there's just the one left. My orders say to leave them alone, and I'm more than happy to do just that. I'm up for re-election soon and I'm kinda counting on their financial support."

They chatted on some more. George had very little to add. In the end, Mike reckoned the Institute was indeed decidedly odd. His next visit was to the Attorney. On the way there, he stopped at a florist. He bought a large bunch of mixed flowers hoping it would be a good investment.

The office of Ronald McMurtry was not impressive. Mike found it next to an auto repair shop on the second floor of a small office building. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. A voice, which he recognized as belonging to Doris, invited him in.

"You must be Doris," Mike said.

She smiled. "Yes I am," she said, waiting for the stranger to introduce himself.

She was a dumpy woman. She appeared to be much younger than her actual age of 72. The firm employed her for as long as anyone could remember, and she was not about to retire any time soon. Ronnie relied on her, or so she would say to anyone who would listen. She was dressed in a twin set and pearls, and wore her hair piled up in a bun on the top of her head. She secured it there with a knitting needle pushed through the bun. She wore a pair of half glasses, perched on the end of her nose. She looked like a typical town gossip, source for all the information anyone could need.

Mike knew he had struck gold.

"I'm Mike Jackson. We've talked a couple of times on the phone. I'm here about my brother Tom. You wrote me a letter. I'm sure you remember, Tom Jackson, he used to work at the Smith Baxendale Institute." Mike held out the flowers.

"Are these for me?" she asked.

"I just think that helpful people should be rewarded. You've been very helpful when I've called and I wanted to say thanks."

Mike may as well have given Doris a million dollars. She was beaming. He played the right card.

"Can you help me regarding the death of my brother, or should I talk to Mister McMurtry?"

"Ronnie's out at the moment. I'm sure I can help you though. They're a queer bunch over there at the Institute, mind you, there's only one of them left. If you ask me his problem is that he doesn't have a wife. He doesn't have anyone to go home and talk to in the evening."

By now, Mike knew they were a 'queer bunch'. He asked, "Who's the one left? Is that Lawrence?"

"Yes it is. I'm trying to find him too. He's a very rich young man now."

"What do you mean?" asked Mike.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell people this," she started. Mike knew this was exactly why he wanted to ingratiate himself with Doris. "It's all down to Mister Phil. He was our client, but he's dead now too. He used us for all his affairs, including making his will. I typed it up myself. I type most of the important documents here. Why, the other day, I typed up a letter from the town's mayor to the governor. You would be amazed what it said. He wanted to thank him for helping to get his son into private school. I'd never have thought the mayor would use his office to help the family, but then I suppose why not. After all, I remember when old Mrs. Worthington said to her daughter, but I shouldn't go on. I've probably said too much already." She looked as if stopping talking was an achievement.

"Can you tell me what the will said?" asked Mike, more to keep the conversation going than anything else.

"Well I'm not supposed to, it was confidential until after he died, and he's not been officially certified as dead yet, but we all know he is. Besides, I'm expecting his death certificate later today. I guess it won't matter if I tell you. He left his fortune divided equally between the members of the Institute, provided they survived him for more than 21 days. If none lived beyond that, the whole lot goes to local charities in various proportions. Now Mister Gott used to support charities. When he died he left all his money to -"

"Was it a big fortune?" interrupted Mike

"Mister Gott? No he didn't have too much."

"No, I meant Phil Baxendale."

"Well I don't know exactly how much it was, but Ronnie said it was over seven billion dollars; that's kinda big. I've never dealt with an amount of that size. There was the estate of Mister Patrick's. His was in the high millions and it was twenty years ago, so I guess that was a similar amount in real money."

Mike whistled softly. It was kinda big. "Were there many members in the Institute originally?"

"I know of three members," Doris said. "That is if you don't count Mister Phil and Mister William who died a couple of years ago. One died in an accident there about two weeks ago. That was Gary Stewart. Then one more died when they killed the Pope. Terrible business wasn't it. She was Melissa Tondust. I think she found out about the will and wanted her share. She asked us to file for the death certificates. It's all too late now for her. She won't inherit anything. If she'd lived one day longer, her estate would now be dealing with over 2 billion dollars. Your brother Tom was only up here to help them on one job. Moreover, there was that doctor who died with the Pope too. He was only there temporary."

"Who gets this fortune?" asked Mike.

"It all goes to Lawrence Burstall. He's going to inherit the whole caboodle. Not that he knows it. He was down at the Cathedral when the Pope died, but he left just before the explosion. At least the Police never found a body. I've tried calling him all day and there's no reply. If I can't contact him soon, I'll put Jason on the case. I've no idea where he is and if anyone can find him Jason can."

Mike decided Melissa was a prime suspect. She had the motive - money. Now she was dead. He wondered if Lawrence found out about the will and decided to kill her off. He knew he needed to contact Lawrence. He was a key man in this investigation. No one else seemed to know anything about why the Institute employed his brothers. He asked Doris for Lawrence's telephone number, which she willingly wrote down for him.

"Who's Jason?" said Mike.

"He's my grandson. He's only 16, but he's good at computers."

Mike thought 'not another computer nerd,' but he was at a temporary dead end and had nothing to lose. If Doris was considering using Jason, he might as well interview the lad.

"Can I meet him?" he asked.

"Sure," said Doris. "He spends too much time at home, playing truant from school. I bet he's there now. If you want, I can call him, and as soon as Ronnie comes back in, we can go visit with him. I need to call in on the Abbotts next door. Their daughter took a part in the school play and Rose Abbott asked me to look at the dress she's making for it. Her daughter is sweet and will make a good Juliet."

Ten minutes later Ronnie returned from lunch, and Doris excused herself, without introducing Mike.

"He would only ask too many questions and I figure I've said too much already," said Doris.

Mike drove for about 15 minutes out of the town center. Jason lived east of the city in the suburb of Reedville not far from Reedville Creek Park. They arrived at a typical house in this typical suburb. Doris talked all the way. She told Mike all about the neighbors, the business, the county, the schools; everything and anything that happened in the town she seemed to know. In fact, she filled Mike's head with so much gossip that by the time he arrived at the house he was glad to get out. There was the obligatory basketball hoop on a pole in the street outside the house, and an old car parked in the drive.

"I told you Jason would be at home," said Doris.

Mike's first impression of Jason was he was an athletic muscle brain. He saw the hoop in the yard, and the basketball lying on the drive. When the youth answered the door, the teenage good looks of this 16 year old struck Mike. Instead of the spotty, glasses wearing, computer nerd he anticipated, Jason was an athletic, jock-type youngster. He was dressed in a tight body-hugging vest, which emphasized his figure and running shorts. He was wearing a pair of white training socks on his feet and no shoes. He appeared to be extremely fit and Mike was impressed with the taut muscles in his shoulders and arms. His short, tousled blonde hair looked as if he just woken up. Mike had sons and knew how long his boys took making their 'scruffy' appearance look just right. This was not a computer nerd. He wondered what made a teenager, as good looking as this one, 'play' with computers. He was wasting his time here, but he went through with the charade to please Doris.

"Hi Mom," said Jason. His voice was soft and still had its boyish tenor pitch.

"Hello Jason," said Doris. "This is Mister Mike. He's a client of mine. We need to find a missing person."

"Come in," said Jason. He led them into the hallway. "If you want someone found we better go upstairs."

Jason led them to his bedroom. It was a stereotypical 16 year old's room; that of a boy who is in that awkward period between being a child and being an adult. On the far wall by the window was a single bed. Arranged around the other walls were a closet, a dresser and a large desk. There were posters on the walls of semi naked girls, and fast cars, yet Mike saw a Buzz Lightyear poster half hidden beneath a particularly appealing Ferrari. There were clothes everywhere and the obligatory un-made bed. The smell was slightly less than rank. A number of damaged remote control model planes hung from the ceiling on wires. A vast quantity of hair and face products littered the top of the dresser. Above it was an oversize wall mirror. The top two dresser drawers were open displaying their contents - odd socks and underwear. A squadron of G.I. Joe figures hung off the mirror by their arms. They appeared to be engaged in rather un-military maneuvers. On the pillow on the bed sat a solitary teddy bear. Mike wondered if this was a childhood leftover or a recent present from a girlfriend. On the desk, he saw a very ordinary looking laptop computer with a web-cam clipped to the top of it. Arranged around it were a printer-scanner, two large speakers and a pile of DVDs. A rather expensive-looking leather executive chair was the only real luxury in the room. Mike could not see any television or stereo equipment and this surprised him. Jason shoveled a pile of clothes off the bed onto the floor and invited them to sit down. He sat in the executive chair. It squeaked as he swiveled towards them.

"I've told you before you ought to keep your room cleaner," said Doris.

"Aww come on Mom, I'm a teenager and you know I hate it when you show me up in front of our visitor."

"OK Jason. You're special, you know that and I can make all the allowances in the world for you."

"Let's start with what you know," he said, as if anxious to change the subject. "What's this person's name?"

Doris replied "Lawrence Andrew Burstall."

"Date of birth?"

"I don't know exactly, but he's in his late 20s"

"Do you know a place of birth, even a State would help?"

"He wasn't born in the U.S., he was born in England, is that a problem?"

"Actually it makes it easier. Was he here as a tourist or working?"

"Oh, definitely working."

"Then he'd have a SSN and a green card. Even easier. What information do you want Mom?"

"I'd like to know where he is if you can do it? Mister Mike and I both need to talk with him."

"Sure, won't take me long," said Jason.

He cleared the screen saver from the screen, trying hard not to let Doris see the naked girls gyrating on it.

"Well, let's start with the Social Security Admin and find his SSN. They're the easiest of all to hack."

Mike didn't know what to expect and was surprised to hear Jason use the word 'hack'. He was not quite so sure now he was wasting his time. This teenager appeared to have a talent, but could he use it and how far would he go?

Several screens flashed up on the computer's monitor. Some of the screens asked Jason for passwords, which he typed in without hesitation. Mike could tell this was not a new trick for him. After about five minutes, he reached for a pen and then swore mildly as it wouldn't work. He found another and wrote a number down on a scrap of paper.

"I've found him and that's his SSN. You're right Mom; his date of birth is April 1, 1983. It's his birthday in 4 days' time. Shall we take out a bank loan in his name?" Jason asked mischievously.

"Not today," Doris laughed. The she looked at her watch. "Dang I didn't realize the time. I have to go back to work; can I take your car? I'm sure you'll be all right with Mister Mike. You can give him the information when you find it." Turning to Mike she said, "Jason will look after you. He's a good boy. When you find Lawrence's whereabouts, can you let me know? I need to tell him about the will. I have to go via the Abbotts and then I have to call in on Betty Wright. She's got a recipe for carrot cake that's dreamy and I promised I'd take it over to Rose Murray. She's going to start baking and -"

Mike nodded, wondering when Doris would pause to breathe.

"No probs," said Jason, interrupting his mom. He was obviously used to her chatter. He reached in a drawer in the cabinet under his desk and found a bunch of keys. "Mister Mike, you'll be alright here will you? You look like a cool kinda guy. Maybe you can run me in later to take the car?"

"Don't call me Mister Mike, I really hate that. Mike is fine. We're going to be friends I hope. As for your car, sure I'll run you in," said Mike. He didn't want to leave now. This teenager obviously had tricks up his sleeve that Mike wanted to see more.

Doris walked down the stairs and called "Bye" as she slammed the front door shut.

Jason started, "OK, she's gone. Now I can show you the real cool stuff. I don't like doing this while she's around. You're not with the police are you?"

Mike lied for the second time that day. "No, I'm a P.I. I want to find Lawrence Burstall for personal reasons. I need to talk to him."

"Like?" asked Jason. Here was a boy who kept himself out of trouble by asking the right questions.

"Like, he was involved with the Smith Baxendale Institute. They used to employ both my brothers and now they're dead. I want to find out how they died and who killed them. That's why I want to interview him."

"I know all about the SBI," said Jason. "That's the time travel place. For a so-called secret Institute, it's not so secret if you know where to look. I became curious a long time ago. Everyone was calling it a 'queer place', and I love to investigate 'queer'. I found their building plans in the city planning department, their bank records and even their electricity account. That was staggering. At times, they pulled enough power to run a small city. You'd never know it; they buried the power lines underground when they were camouflaging the place. They've done a reasonable job with their computer security too. There are several different firewalls, but I can enter. I have remote access to their building systems. Their main research system must be stand-alone. I've never been able to hack that. Everything else I can access. Six months ago, a lady by the name of Miss Tondust cancelled the power account. I tracked the company where they bought their generator. It was massive. It has a power output of 250 Mega Watts. The diesel consumption keeps a fleet of trucks going. The time machine obviously needs a lot of juice. I don't know if you read about the earthquake we had up here. It was actually an explosion in the Institute. I went into the coroner's records and read the reports on the deaths. I have copies of the missing person's reports somewhere here. Jesus arrived at the Institute three weeks ago, a few days before he appeared at the Police Station in Hillsboro. I reckon they brought him from the first century. That's probably why two of their people were killed with the Pope. It's all very interesting." He paused for breath.

"What's your last name?" Jason asked.

"Jackson," said Mike.

"Are you related to Tom Jackson, who died in the explosion at the Institute?"

"Yes he was one of my brothers."

"And Joe Jackson, who died with the Pope?"

"He was my other brother."

"OK," said Jason. "I wondered if they were related. Jackson's a common name but two in three weeks, it made me wonder. Right, let's start. This one has been bugging me for a long time. I'll find Lawrence, as long as when you go to meet him I can tag along with you. I want to find out more about the place." Then he added as an afterthought, "You are going to meet him aren't you?"

"Well, I really need to talk with him. If he's local, I'll go and meet him. I'm on a tight budget and can't travel too far to meet the man. I know the F.B.I. will find him and carry out their own investigation. I just feel I need to do something for personal reasons. I guess it's part of coming to terms with it."

"Well then let's move."

After another five minutes or so, Jason said to him, "You lied to me - that's one strike against you."

"What do you mean?"

"You said you weren't in the police, you were a detective in the Cleveland Police Department, Tennessee."

"How did you find that out?" asked Mike.

"It was easy. I found your SSN by cross-referencing your name with your brothers. Then I simply looked up the master Federal Employees database. Your real name isn't Jackson either is it?"

Mike was shocked. The kid found so much information in such a short time.

"I'd rather not go into that right now, if you don't mind. But maybe later if you want? I have some mysteries there I need to solve too."

"OK, but don't lie to me again. We have to work on a trust basis and I need to trust you or I don't go any further. If I ask you something, you don't lie, you don't evade the answer, you just stay straight with me."

Mike didn't answer. He just nodded his head and blushed. His simple lie caught him out, and the family history was uncovered. This teenager was clever.

The detail contained in the websites that Jason visited amazed Mike. He worked in law enforcement most of his life. His duty as a detective finished two years ago. He was used to going into the Internet for information. However, some of the websites Jason appeared to have access to, shocked him.

First, they found Lawrence's bank account. It was interesting to say the least; the salary check that was going in each month was huge. The SBI deposited two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month. Even Jason whistled at that. There were outgoings matching these, mainly to an overseas account. Nevertheless, the balance was extremely healthy.

"This dude is not poor," he said.

There was a pause as Jason obviously went down some wrong sites. He struggled for a while, but finally came up with the information he was looking for. He managed to track the use of his debit card. The last withdrawal was for gas in Chama, New Mexico. Lawrence debited $50 for gas. There were three other withdrawals for similar amounts on the road from Portland to New Mexico.

Jason said, "Assuming he was with the Pope when he died, two days ago, he's moving fast. That's over 1,000 miles from here. He must have driven. I want to find details of his car. This might take a bit; I'll have to hack a new system I've never been in before."

After around 10 minutes, quite a few different websites on the computer screen and some flashing numbers that looked like they were automatically trying passwords, some TV footage appeared on the laptop monitor. He moaned, "That was hard, but I hacked the gas station's CCTV. I've checked the camera at the exact time he used the card and wound back a couple of minutes. I think this is his car coming in. Look." The screen showed a white Buick Lucerne pulling into the station. Jason made a note of the license number and watched the footage as the driver got out. It didn't look like a man in his late 20s but it was hard to tell as he was wearing sunglasses. After a minute two passengers got out of the back seat. One was bearded and wore a suit. His hands appeared bandaged and he wore sandals. He was using a stick to help him walk.

"Jesus," remarked Mike.

"You didn't tell me we were tracking him," said Jason. "I'd have taken this much more seriously." Mike wanted to know how much more serious this could become. It appeared that Jason was in complete control of cyber-space.

The man appeared to be in his late 20s. Jason watched the screen for a few minutes.

"That has to be Lawrence," said Jason. "Look, he's going inside." Jason switched cameras and Mike could see a view from the cashier's window.

"He's handing over the card to pay for the gas," said Jason as he zoomed the camera in to the man's face. He checked the time on the CCTV display.

"Yup, it's him, the time's exactly right. He's paying for the gas now. If the resolution was a little better we could cross check the numbers on his card." Jason zoomed right in and they could see the front of the credit card, but the numbers were blurred. "If he was outside I'd use the F.B.I. satellite to read the number. Their cameras are far better resolution, even though they're 425 miles up, criss-crossing the sky. But they can't see inside buildings, yet." Jason stressed the word 'yet', Mike wondered how long it would be before the F.B.I., and Jason could see inside buildings.

Mike took a long look at the man Jason said was Lawrence. He fitted the description he held in his mind. He was well dressed in a shirt and dress pants. He memorized the face. Jason printed a copy of a screen grab and gave it to Mike.

"They have to be somewhere in the area," said Jason. "Well, within 300 miles anyway. There isn't another gas receipt."

"How close can you pinpoint him?" asked Mike.

"Pretty exact if I hack the F.B.I. Shall we tag him and you can see just how good their satellites are?" asked Jason.

"Tag?"

"Yup, satellite track him."

"I don't know, can you?"

"Yup, I'll log in as top level F.B.I. and you just watch."

Mike was fascinated. He watched as Jason logged in to the F.B.I. website. He entered two different passwords on two screens and he gained access. He clicked around a few more sites and entered the license number of the car, the time of the withdrawal from Lawrence's bankcard. Finally, he added Chama, New Mexico as an approximate location and pressed a large button marked 'search'. Mike saw a satellite image of a road appear on the screen. It raced across as if it was following the route the car took. Mike started to feel seasick.

"They're looking for his car now," Jason said. "A combination of roadside cameras and satellites are searching."

In no time at all the sliding ground stopped and the picture on the monitor zoomed in to a white car. The computer found it parked besides a building that looked from the aerial photograph like a tin roofed church.

"That's his car, now we find the man." Jason put the picture he printed of Lawrence at the gas station in a scanner and copied it. "I always forget to save that as a jpg," he remarked. Mike was completely lost at this point. He had no idea what Jason was doing. The screen zoomed in to the building and a timer came up. It said 30 minutes. A cross hair hovered over one specific part. "That's where he is; he went inside 30 minutes ago. He's in El Santuario de Chimayo."

"I know that name," said Mike. "I remember it from the newspaper cutting about the Pope. The Pope visited the shrine there the day before he died. I don't believe that's a coincidence."

"That's where Lawrence and Jesus have gone too."

Suddenly the screen went dark. "That happens sometimes, when the F.B.I. kick me off," said Jason. "I'll have to do it all again. Don't you just hate it when that happens?"

"Why would they kick you off?"

"Well, if we're being honest, it's my fault. There are security controls and sometimes I forget them. When you get the protocol wrong, they kick you off. I'm only human, give me a break!"

He giggled nervously. Mike smiled as he saw a slightly fallible side in the otherwise too-perfect computer boy. He warmed to the lad who was obviously struggling in websites that were complicated even for him.

Jason eventually got back to the same screen as before. He clicked his mouse on a button marked 'TAG' on the screen.

"We've found him. The F.B.I. will track him for us. When we land in Santa Fe, all we do is log back on and the computer will tell us exactly where he is."

Mike had never seen anything like this. With all his years of police work, finding a missing person was a long and painstaking task. This kid tracked a man 1,000 miles away and placed him under remote surveillance within an hour.

"How come the F.B.I. don't use this more often?" asked Mike.

"Mainly cost," said Jason. "The search I've just done cost around a million bucks from the Federal funds. It's not cheap to divert satellites cameras from their allotted scans and electronically look through old roadside camera footage. It's only possible now since they digitalized everything and put it online. Keeping him tagged will cost a hundred thousand a day. Normally the Feds only use this for their top most wanted people."

"How did you gain access?" asked Mike.

"There are some things its better you don't know. I've been tinkering with computers since I was four. There's not much I can't do. Shall we go?"

This time round, he heard the 'we' comment. It floored him. There were 1,000 reasons why he couldn't go. He didn't have the money. He didn't want to abduct a 16 year old, he, he -

"I really don't need to go; I just need to talk to the man. I can't afford to fly there and I can't take you anyway. Can't we just phone him?"

"And miss out on the adventure of the decade? Look, money's no problem," said Jason. He clicked a few more buttons on websites on his computer. "Lawrence has just donated me $30,000. If I need more, he'll do it again. I'm sure he won't miss it with that salary of his."

Mike added, "That doesn't alter the fact I can't take you. Besides, you can't steal from people. I can't agree to stealing."

"Well you can use that in your defense," joked Jason, "when I tell the judge you made me do it. So we're going are we?"

Mike didn't reply.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Jason fiddled another few tabs and came up with several different airlines. "There's nothing till tomorrow morning. I don't think we can wait. Let me check something."

There was a short pause. "OK we're booked on a private jet charter using Stratos Jet Charters. A nice man called Ricky has just confirmed the hire. Lawrence paid the $18,000 bill. I've also reserved a car from Avis. The plane will be ready at 7 p.m. and we'll be in Santa Fe at 9.30."

Mike was shocked; shocked the way Jason booked a plane using someone else's money; shocked that he would even think of a private jet charter; shocked at the brilliance and attitude of the boy. Finally, all he could think of saying was, "You still can't come, you're a minor. What will your parents say?"

"How about a 'thank you' or a 'well done'? As for my folks, they're both as good as dead. Doris lives here and takes care of me. We'll pick up my car, and tell her. She won't mind. Then we'll drop your rental back, pick up your stuff and catch the flight. Don't think you can wriggle out of this one. It's a real life adventure and I want to be part of it. I'm bored with playing war games on this machine."

Mike wondered if the war games involved real wars, but he didn't voice his thought.

Jason grabbed a bag. He shoved a few clothes roughly in it, turned off his laptop and disconnected it. He lovingly placed it in a case and as an afterthought grabbed three more, older ones from a closet. "Just for backup," he said. "Right let's go."

Mike drove him back into town. He insisted going up and seeing Doris personally. He didn't want Jason telling him any lies. Doris didn't seem worried at all.

"He can go with my blessing," she said to Mike. "But if anything happens to him, I'll kill you." Mike didn't doubt this for a minute. The bunch of flowers he gave Doris earlier indeed proved to be a good investment.

## Chapter 18 \- Santa Fe

Jason and Mike went to Mike's hotel. He remembered the call Mary received the previous night from his brother's wife, Sheila.

He said to Jason, "I have to make a personal call, can you wait outside for me?"

Jason didn't look happy. He took out his own phone and turned on some music. He put in an earpiece and went outside the room.

He found the number for Sheila and called her.

"Dead shit Joe's wife," she answered the phone. Mike immediately knew Mary was right. This was one upset lady. He needed to choose his words carefully.

"I'm Mike, his brother. You're right Joe always was a shit." He laughed, making a joke of his comment. "You called my wife and she told me you have a message?"

"I hope you don't cheat on your wife like that shit did?"

"I've never even thought about it," he said.

"Well that shit left me a letter. It says I have to contact you, and now I've done it. There, goodbye."

"Wait a minute," Mike said rapidly. "What did it say in the letter?"

Sheila laughed. "He was mental that shit was. It just said to tell you Echmoth. There was an email address and a password he said I was to give to you."

She gave Mike the email address, Echmoth@hotmail.com and the password. She said goodbye again and hung up.

Jason walked in at that moment.

"That was radical," he said. "She's a pissed off lady."

"You heard?"

"Just intercepted your call. Sorry." Jason laughed. "You have a lot to learn being a detective."

"Evidently," said Mike.

They went straight to Mike's computer and logged in to the hotmail account. There were almost 3,000 unread emails in the in box. Jason looked amazed this time. Neither of them had any idea that the Jesus scandal was so deep. Mike opened a few emails and realized what he was reading was Jesus' hotmail account. There were so many, Mike didn't know where to start. He looked at one of the folders on the side. It was called 'Rola'. He read a few and saw Jesus made a commercial for the cola. He had seen it on the television and he commented to Jason about the scandal that followed.

"Clever CGI, that's all," said Jason. He whistled again, when he read the emails mentioning the fee. Jason was used to seven figure sums but for one afternoon's filming, this was huge.

There was a folder marked 'SOP'. There were nine emails here. Their content was disturbing.

Mike read them in order.

Inbox: 'Be careful. You are meddling in things you don't understand. I know Echmoth. For 2,000 years, I have been putting things right that have gone badly wrong. You know I am not a crank. My agent died when trying to assassinate the imposter Jesus. I will not fail next time. At this time, you are not on my list. This can be changed. Philip.'

Sent mail: 'Does the name Leopold Jacobowitz mean anything to you?'

Inbox: 'Yes'

Sent mail: 'How?'

Inbox: 'You don't want to know'

Sent mail: 'I do'

Inbox: 'He was a friend.'

Sent mail: 'Leopold Jacobowitz was my father. I'd like to meet to discuss his death and clear his name. Please contact me to arrange such a meeting.'

Inbox: 'If you see me it will be the day you die. Do not ask any more questions for your own sake. The false Jesus is a traitor to the faith. Stop helping him.'

That was all. Mike rediscovered his family secret and here were people talking about it. Jason looked at him sideways.

"You wanna tell me about it?" asked Jason.

"Later maybe, not now," replied Mike.

Jason agreed to leave it at that, but only for the time being.

Just after 6 p.m., they dropped off Mike's car. A courtesy car drove them from Portland International airport to Hillsboro. This was where they arranged to meet the jet. Ricky was good to his word and Stratos Jet Charter was a good find. Mike wondered if Jason used them before. He seemed to know the pilot, and Ricky was very accommodating. As it was a private jet charter, they caught the flight from Hillsboro airport, which saved the hassle of going through the main International airport. They wanted to land near Chimayo, the last known location of Lawrence. Jason decided to fly to Santa Fe, rather than the smaller airport at Espanola. Although Espanola was nearer, it didn't offer car hire facilities.

As soon as they sat down on the plane, Jason fell asleep. Mike didn't have the chance he wanted to talk to him. He only woke up as they were landing. Mike spent the entire flight in contemplation of the last 36 hours. He felt as if he was in a dream. So much had happened. He tried to piece it all together in his head. Nothing was fitting. Everything was about secret Institutes, secret societies, his own family history, it had to link in somewhere, he just couldn't figure how.

They arrived five minutes early at 9.25 and swiftly found the Avis desk. Jason upgraded the hire to a Cadillac CTS at $65 a day. Mike remembered his car he hired in Portland. The Cadillac offered no comparison to the $19 he paid for the Aveo. Jason said as Lawrence was paying them to find him, they could afford to splash out. Jason was more modest when he booked the hotel while they were on the flight. They drove the 30 miles to the Days Inn at Espanola.

Next door to the Days Inn was a Sonic. They stopped there for burgers. There are some desires that don't change in a teenager, even if he has plenty of money.

While they were sitting in the car, Jason quietly asked Mike, "You never did tell me about your family."

"It's a long story," Mike began. "I'm not really sure where to begin and I'm sure you're not really interested and to be honest, there's more I don't know than I do. I was born in 1945, and I've no idea where. My passport says Israel, but that's nonsense, as Israel didn't exist until 1948. It may have been Palestine, but I really doubt it. Sometime around the early 40s, my parents lived in Germany. Again, for some reason I don't know, they fled Germany. I'm pretty sure my father did something he's very ashamed of. It was something during the war that left him a hunted man. From then to 1951, when my brother was 13, I think we lived on the run. I know we ended up in Jerusalem. When I was six, in 1951, my eldest brother had his bar mitzvah. This is all information my father told me, I don't remember any of it. Immediately after the ceremony, we left Israel in a rush. Apparently, the thing my father did caught up with him. Someone found him and he had to escape rapidly. The whole family, my parents, my two brothers and I, left Jerusalem. We fled to Seattle. I was born my name was Mikael Jacobowitz. Shortly after arriving in Seattle, my dad changed my name to Mike Jackson. I've never been Michael.

"When I was born, my family was Jewish. After we moved to Seattle, my father converted to Christianity and so did I. That was at my father's suggestion. After his death, I took a job with the Church of God in Seattle, and they wanted me to move to their headquarters in Cleveland Tennessee. Quickly, I realized they were just using me, so I left. I joined the Cleveland Police and haven't looked back. The family problem hasn't followed me, at least not until today. There, that's the short version of my history. What about yours?"

"There's more to that story than you know," said Jason. "If you don't mind, I'll do some digging. I'll start with your trip to America. Do you know how you crossed the Atlantic?"

"We flew," said Mike.

"The passenger dockets will be online, however you went. I'll start there and let you know. I don't want to do it tonight; I'm tired from the day. I'll start work on it tomorrow. It shouldn't take me long."

"I asked about your past. I'm interested how a lad like you, a fit athletic red-blooded boy, should actually be a computer nerd."

"I don't tell many people my true story," Jason started. "I'm sixteen now. I've always lived in Portland. I tell people my parents died. I don't know that. They abandoned me when I was a three-day-old baby. Mom, Doris, had some connection with the hospital at the time. I think her sister, Gladys, was in there dying. Anyways, I ended up at the hospital and Mom, agreed to take care of me. It was only going to be a temporary arrangement, as she was ancient, but I've been with her ever since. When I was four, I started playing on her computer. At first, it was kid's games, but by the time I was seven, I was building my own.

"I stopped going to school. Mom is out all day so I can sit at home. I can teach myself far more than they can teach me. I hack the school records - fill in the attendance sheet remotely. I get good grades too! I'm expecting a GPA of 3.8 when I receive my High School Diploma in the summer. I became bored with games, and hacking the school computer and a man I knew started showing me things. He used to come to my house when Mom was at work, as he said he didn't want people to find where he accessed the Internet. I learned a lot from him at the start. He taught me how to hack other people's accounts. Some were easy; facebook and hotmail are so easy to crack. In the end, I taught him tricks. Then we started work on harder things. I soon learned how to gain rear entry to sites such as banks and the SSN. When I was 13, I hacked the F.B.I. I was shit scared they'd track me. I put 11 firewalls and 4 proxies between them and me. I hacked it and have been having fun ever since.

"The F.B.I. is now easy for me. They actually technically employ me. At least they employ someone called Jason Warfield. That's not my name. I have several SSNs and Jason Warfield is a 47 year old, top-level operative. He has Class 1 security clearance, so it's easy for him to access anything he wants. He can tag people for example. He earns a healthy salary that they pay into a bank account in Thailand. I just transfer from that bank whenever I want money. Sometimes people like Lawrence help me with funds. They don't know it, but they do. I'm very careful with what I spend. I don't buy anything a sixteen year old can't afford, except for this baby." He patted his laptop computer. "That is top of the line, $8,000 dollars worth. It allows me to do the things I enjoy. This one has a duralumin case that will withstand most things. If it's shut, you can drop it in a swimming pool. It has many trial components in it that I ordered specially. It can probably do more than any other laptop on the planet. Just don't pour your beer on the keyboard when it's open. I can't stand those plastic keyboard covers and there's no effective way of waterproofing a keyboard," He laughed.

"As for girls and stuff, I've never had time. I play a little hoops, work out on my bed, do all the things a red blooded American sixteen year old does," he winked. "That's my story. And I'm not a geek or a nerd; please don't call me that, I hate the label."

By now, they'd eaten their burgers and they drove next door to Days Inn to check in.

The desk clerk confirmed the booking. Mike registered Jason as his grandson. The man said he didn't care as long as they paid the room up front. They drove to their room and took in their bags. Jason noticed a white Buick Lucerne parked outside a room down the block from theirs. He didn't say anything. As soon as he could, he fired up his laptop. He checked the email account for Echmoth and chuckled. He knew Mike would find that interesting, but wanted to wait until morning. Then he logged in to the F.B.I. tracking site. Mike was out of the room fetching ice. Jason laughed so hard he almost cried. He closed his laptop and was in bed before Mike returned to the room.

By the time Jason was closing his laptop, Lawrence had already been in New Mexico for 24 hours. One day before that, Jesus offered him his hand, while they were in the Archbishop's house, next to the Cathedral in Portland. They walked out together. As they, left a stranger entered the room. Jesus didn't turn or look at him. The man wore a flak jacket over a military style uniform. Jesus and Lawrence walked down the street together. A minute later, they heard a bang. It was quiet and muffled, but something definitely exploded. Lawrence went to release Jesus' hand and go back. However, the man gripped it tighter and kept on walking.

It was obvious Jesus knew where he was going. They walked along Davis Street and turned right onto 18th Avenue. A little way along 18th, a white Buick Lucerne stopped and the back door opened. Jesus climbed in. He didn't release Lawrence's hand, so he followed.

Once inside Lawrence said, "What on earth is going on?"

Jesus simply replied, "The Pope is dead. He was a bad man."

Lawrence was scared to ask any more. The driver of the car was wearing dark glasses and didn't look back. At that time, Lawrence didn't know it, but he would be in the car for the next 33 hours. Apart from stopping for some toilet breaks, a few McDonalds, four gas stops where Lawrence bought the gas and three short catnaps, the driver drove the entire 1,100 miles from Portland to New Mexico in one session. Lawrence asked the driver occasional questions, but he never turned round. After a while, Jesus simply explained, "He cannot hear, he cannot speak." Apparently, the driver was a deaf mute.

Jesus on the other hand seemed anxious to use his newly learned English. He was asking Lawrence many questions about 2012. Lawrence had a great deal of time on the journey explain about the present day to Jesus and to consider his own past. At 28, he was embarking on an adventure he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dream. He was born in 1984 in Chigwell, a rich suburb to the North East of London, England. He did well at the local school, and achieved four grade A A-levels. Southampton University accepted him. It was the best University in the UK for Mechanical Engineering, which was his chosen career. He graduated with a first class honors degree, and took a job apprenticing with Apple in the Santa Clara Valley. His talents were many. He could build virtually anything from any raw materials. His fellows at Southampton once challenged him to build a radio receiver using only wire and fruit. The resulting creation picked up his local radio station, and would have made a fine headdress for Carmen Miranda! He was a confirmed atheist. Now he had just attended Catholic Mass and taken communion from the Pope, while kneeling next to a man claimed by many to be the Messiah. He was driving with this man to an unknown destination. His life was weird.

Jesus, in return, told him about the Son of Philip. It appeared it was a secret line passed from father to son that started with his very own colleague, Phil Baxendale. Phil decided not to return from 33 AD. Somehow, Jesus knew he would marry and have a son. He named this boy Philip. Before the Institute transported Jesus to the future, he gave Phil a mission. That was to keep his word pure. He set him the task of dealing with people who betrayed the word of his father and tried to corrupt the simple pure message. It was not a vigilante mission; out to kill anyone who sinned. Jesus explained there were enough of those around. It was the task of keeping the pure message of Jesus' father unsullied. There was a code word to use when he struck. Echmoth. Jesus tasked Phil, his son and his descendants for eighty generations to continue the line and protect the message. Jesus knew he would be away from this life for a long time. Now it was eighty generations later. The current Philip was struggling. The Church was now a corrupt body, which coveted power and wealth. The excessive pomp and ceremony was exactly the type of thing Jesus abhorred. Eighty sons of Philip, in their turn, were named Philip. The current Philip had a small band of followers who kept the secret and helped keep the message. They initially thought Jesus was an imposter, and added him to their list of targets. They didn't want him to spread false counsel. After meetings first with the Pope, then with Jesus himself, Philip realized he was genuine. The current Philip had no children. This would be the last generation. That was why, Jesus said, he came back now. He wanted to rid the church of corruption and to reinstate the pure message.

The driver, he said, was one of their followers. Another member of the Zealots was the suicide bomber who passed them as they left the vestry. Lawrence picked up several newspapers on the journey, and read about the death of the Pope. He knew Melissa and Joe also died in the explosion. He read with horror that Jesus was wanted 'for questioning' as a material witness. They said he was not involved. The editorial columns went into great detail about the reasons anyone would want to assassinate Pope John Paul III. There were many. He had a checkered past, for one thing he was implicated in a cover-up of Bishops involved in choirboy sex scandals. He put a great many of his own followers into key positions in the Vatican. He took the church back a century in their rituals.

It was this last point that horrified Jesus most. Jesus said it was time for the man to die and Philip carried out his father's wishes. Now they were driving to New Mexico, to El Santuario de Chimayo where Philip lived, to meet Philip. Lawrence was about to meet the 80 times great grandson of Phil Baxendale.

The journey was grueling. Lawrence was used to travelling in style. The Buick was comfortable, but he was not used to sleeping in a car. 33 hours of this travel wore him out. He was very glad when they arrived at the Days Inn at Espanola, and finally checked in. Jesus insisted they all took separate rooms. He did not need 'baby-sitting' now.

## Chapter 19 \- Philip

The following morning, Lawrence awoke refreshed. He slept well and substantially recovered from the journey. There was a knock on his door. It was the chauffeur. He beckoned to Lawrence to join him. He went out to the car, parked two doors down and Jesus was already sitting in the back seat.

"We go to the Sanctuary," he said.

Lawrence climbed in the car. He was still tired from the journey. He hadn't slept well and he hadn't eaten breakfast. Two days of eating only burgers began to tell on his digestive system. They drove a short distance to El Santuario de Chimayo. Lawrence looked around. There were low, dry hills around them covered in scrub bushes. A few scraggy trees appeared to be clinging to life. Arid appeared to be a good word for the scenery here. They pulled into the car park for the Sanctuary. There was a small painted sign announcing ' El Santuario'. Across the way was a Vigil Store. It was a small single-storey dusty building. In fact everything around was covered in dust. The store had a signboard outside advertising 'Milagros Santos Retablos'. He noticed a row of comfortable small houses on the other side of the street. He read about the sanctuary in the tourist guide in the hotel overnight. It said the shrine was one of the top 10 pilgrimage sites in the USA. He was surprised there were no other cars around. In front of him, he could see the Sanctuary itself. It appeared to be a small church inside a walled courtyard. He could see the building was made from adobe. It had a bell tower on each side, with pointed caps. The building had a simple metal pitched roof. As they entered, Lawrence looked at the walls; they were more than 3 feet thick. They passed through one of the two vestibules at the front of it. From this, they walked into the body of the church. There was a crucifix about six feet high at the far end with a carved representation of Jesus on it.

Jesus said to Lawrence, "This is my church. Here the word of my father is pure. Here there is no money, no gold. Philip is a good man."

Jesus was right. Mike could see this was basic religion. It was impressive, yet it was simple. The crucifix was wooden and the carving was realistic. The figure on the cross showed all the pain the man now standing by his side suffered. It was set in an impressive carved alcove. Someone or perhaps many people took a long time and a lot of pride in carving the ornate leaves, swirls and buttons on the surround. They painted them with gold paint to make a highly decorative setting. The altar was a simple table, covered with an embroidered cloth. On it were six simple wooden candlesticks and a number of single lilies as flower decorations. The whole impression was one of love and craftsmanship, rather than money and power.

They walked into an adjacent room. It appeared to be a prayer room. Lawrence saw a man kneeling by a cross on the wall. He appeared to be in his early 60s and was well dressed. Lawrence guessed this shrine was a place people went for healing and this man didn't look like a typical pilgrim. He could see many photographs on the walls and a number of crutches and other discarded aids. A vast quantity of crosses, ribbons and letters covered the walls. Lawrence wondered if visiting pilgrims left these. He saw Jesus go up to the kneeling man and kneel next to him. They spoke in whispers that Lawrence couldn't hear. After a few moments, the man stood up and walked over to Lawrence.

"My name is Philip. I believe you knew my ancestor?"

"I'm Lawrence. Yes, he and I knew each other well." It was decidedly bizarre talking to the 80-generation son of a former work colleague.

"Welcome to my church," Philip said. "Jesus has told me about you. He said you were the one pure man from the team who brought him here. We've dealt with all the others."

"I read about some of the deaths. The F.B.I. and the Catholic Church aren't going to be happy about the assassination of the Pope. I imagine you're on the top 10 most wanted list now."

"The church will follow whatever I say. They are scared of me. At this very moment, four Cardinals are preparing to go to a meeting on a remote island off the Italian coast. Four of the most powerful men in the Church will be carving up the future. They will do our bidding. As for the F.B.I.," he laughed. "They are fools. They do not know where to look. They have the tools to find me, but they choose to take their orders from the Catholic Church. There is too much money at stake."

"Why has Jesus brought me here? I find this whole matter very confusing."

"Not many people know about my existence. I keep very quiet. Over the years, our zealots have dealt with some of the worst cases of excess. I have a history of overthrowing evil men. Now I need to overthrow and change the entire Church. The killing of the Pope was only a first step. Before long, Jesus will have his way and restore simplicity to a corrupt body. He has a plan for you, or you wouldn't be here. I don't know what it is."

Jesus joined them. "You are a good man," he said to Lawrence. "You help me before. Now I will help you. You did not die with Pope. You will soon meet a man and boy. They help me also. You must tell them my story - why I am here. I have much work for you."

Father, these men are pure and they will help spread your message. They will help Philip to cleanse the temple. Soon we will have a powerful force to meet the evil men and then they will feel your wrath. Please give me strength to carry out your will.

Lawrence didn't understand all of this. Jesus' English was improving, but it was still rudimentary. He knew he would meet a man and a boy and the three of them would form a team. He chatted a bit more with Philip. The man clearly was acting under Jesus' orders. This last generation Son of Philip didn't know what the future was going to bring or where events were leading him. Nevertheless, he was willing to follow the man and give his life if needed. The meeting finished and Lawrence and Jesus drove back to the hotel. They had a quiet evening. Lawrence caught up on the news on Television. Nothing remarkable was happening. The death of the Pope was no longer headline news. The body of the Pope was now back to Rome. It was now lying in State in the Sistine Chapel. It appeared that the Vatican was going to break with tradition and hold a Papal Conclave in a small town in the Italian Alps to elect the next Pope. It was also going to be very soon, next Monday. In his mind, he saw a picture of Cardinals rushing around to catch flights to Rome.

Mike woke with a start. Jason was already up. He was sitting at the desk in the hotel room.

"Morning sleepy head," said Jason. "I've been up for ages. I have lots of news for you."

Mike said nothing. He went to the bathroom and thought how just 48 hours earlier, he was at home, with his wife, complaining about the state of society.

He came out some minutes later and saw Jason walking back into the room with some Sonic bags. "I thought we could do breakfast," he said.

Mike actually hoped for something better than Sonic for breakfast, but he appreciated the gesture. They sat down and ate.

"OK, what's the news," said Mike as he finished off the last of the coffee.

"Well, it's my turn now not to know where to start," said the boy. "You want Jesus or your family?"

"An interesting choice. Let's start with my family."

"It was not that hard to start with. Your old surname isn't too common. I searched the online family history records for Ancestry.com and found the flight dockets for your trip. You crossed the Atlantic on a Pan Am Constellation. There were six of you - four brothers, not three. The last one was named Philip. You've never mentioned him."

"I've never been told about him," Mike replied. "I didn't know he existed."

"I did some simple searching and can't find him. There's no record of his death under either of your surnames. For the moment that's not important. I tracked you to Seattle and that's the easy part. The hard part was going back. Jewish records are a mess. There's very little online. I did go into the F.B.I. and immigration records. Did you know there's a file on you, and another on your father, Leopold?"

"I suspect the F.B.I. has a file on everyone," said Mike.

"Yes they do, but yours and Leopold's are red flagged. That's the flag for watch. Yours is very boring. I read most of it. They were mainly concerned with your activities in the Church of God. They seem to have ignored you for many years now. No doubt after this little escapade they'll re-open it, but I can go back into it and clean it up. Your father's file, on the other hand, is a different matter. Now don't forget he died in 1962. There weren't any computers then and this is all scanned and transcribed from handwritten documents. I've put in a request for copies of the originals, which I will receive soon in my mailbox in Thailand. We can't wait for that. I read the originals as best I can. Some appear to be in Hebrew, some in German, but from what I can make out, your father was in contact with the Nazis. He was also a high ranking Jewish rabbi, possibly the Chief Rabbi in Berlin before the war. When the war started, he turned into a sort of double agent. He was giving up some of his colleagues to the Nazis, and in return was giving German secrets to the allies through a connection in the States. He must have fled when the authorities discovered this. Why he fled again from Jerusalem, I have no idea. There's no record. I guess the authorities in Jerusalem found out about the people he shopped to the SS. I guess he couldn't stay safely there. I wouldn't feel happy in his shoes. Oh, I have two last pieces of news. You were born in Berlin. I'm guessing your family left Germany later than you thought, and your father changed his first name more than once. Originally it was Philip, same as your youngest brother."

Mike digested all this. Much was news to him. He had always suspected his father was a spy. That wasn't a revelation. He guessed that the son called Philip died in childhood. They were a poor family and that wouldn't have been unusual.

"That brings me on to the Jesus news," said Jason. "There's two parts to this. I found them both out last night, but I figured you'd had enough. "

"My mind was confused I will admit," said Mike.

"First there's another interesting email from the 'Son of Philip'. It came into the Echmoth email box. You remember the one you showed me?"

Mike nodded.

"It quite simply invited you to meet Jesus and his friends at El Santuario de Chimayo. It mentioned you by name. He knows you have access to the box, and I guess he wanted to help you find him here. Had it come a day earlier, we'd never have met."

"Well, after all you've shown me, I'm glad we did meet," said Mike. "What's the second bit?"

"I opened up the F.B.I. tag system. They are still tracking Lawrence. And I know where he currently is."

"Where's that?" asked Mike.

"At the Days Inn, Espanola. He's currently in the room next door."

Mike and Jason went out of their room. They knocked on the next door. After a minute, a young man in his late 20s answered. Mike immediately recognized the face as that of Lawrence. He could see in his mind the screen grab photo Jason printed out yesterday.

"Can I help you?" asked Lawrence.

"Can we come in? We need to talk about a number of important things," said Mike.

"Sure, I thought you were going to be room service. You're not with the cops are you?"

Mike looked at Jason. "Detective, but retired," he answered.

"Well come in anyway. I've half been expecting you. I was told you'd come."

They went into the room, which was a mirror of their own. They all sat down on the bed.

"My name's Mike Jackson. I believe you knew my brothers, Tom and Joe. This is Jason."

"Hi guys. I did know both of them and worked with them for a while. I'm sorry about Joe. I've only just learned he died when they blew up the Pope. Do you know where Tom went?"

"I heard Tom died in an explosion too."

"Actually that's not true. Do you know what we did at the Institute?" asked Lawrence.

"Jason tells me you were involved with time travel."

"That's true.

"We have so many questions."

"Where would you like to start?"

"Well I suppose, I should start with the good news. Jason is the ward of your attorney's secretary. I have a message from her. You need to contact the firm urgently. You've just become the recipient of Phil Baxendale's fortune. He left it equally between the surviving members of the Institute. As you're the only survivor, I guess it all goes to you."

"I knew he was a rich man. I didn't know he'd left it to me. That would be why Melissa has been rushing to obtain his death certificate. I guess she knew he was leaving the money to us. Of course, she's dead now. However, I know you didn't come 1,000 miles just to tell me that, you could have phoned. Joe always said you three weren't a close family. He said he hadn't contacted Tom for years and years."

"I hadn't either, but it doesn't make it easier to learn both your brothers died three weeks apart."

"No, I am sorry for you."

"What I initially came here for was just to interview you about the deaths. I've learned a lot about the Smith Baxendale Institute from Jason, and would really like to know more."

"Well, it is a top-secret Institute. However, when we brought Jesus back to the present time, we destroyed the project. Now Gary and Melissa are dead, I guess there's no secret any more. Sit down and I'll tell you all about it."

Lawrence spent a long time talking to Mike. Lawrence spoke about the time machine and the reason for Phil needing help from Tom. He told Mike how they sent both of them back to 33AD. He went on to say that neither came back and they didn't really know why. He guessed Tom liked it more in the past. He always suspected Phil would stay. Then Lawrence told Mike about Joe's involvement. Mike didn't know Joe's reputation and the tale surprised him. Finally, Lawrence told him about Jesus, the adventures they were having, ending with the trip from Portland to New Mexico. The one aspect he didn't touch on was the story about Philip.

At the end of the story, Mike had pages of notes. He was satisfied at the answers and he knew his interview with Lawrence was at an end. He came to meet this man and question him regarding the deaths of his brothers. He now knew Tom was alive and well but in 33AD. He had the full details regarding Joe, and he was satisfied. He now needed to find Philip and talk to him about his involvement.

He said to Lawrence, "I've been tracking emails into a box set up by my brother Joe. There are a few there from a group called Son of Philip. What do you know about their involvement? I do really need to talk to Philip now. He's contacted me personally by email and told me he's here."

"I've met Philip. That's why we're here in Espanola. He operates from a base at El Santuario de Chimayo."

"I guessed that, putting two and two together. I really want to go and meet him?" said Mike.

"We ought to check with Jesus," said Lawrence. "He's next door."

The three men went next door and knocked. Jesus opened the door and they went in.

"I'm Mike and this is Jason. I'm honored to meet you Sir."

Jesus smiled. "I know you Mike. I know you too Jason. I know why you are here. You come to see Philip."

Nothing like being direct, thought Mike.

Jesus simply said, "We go now."

That was that. In less than 30 minutes of detective work, Mike discovered Lawrence, met Jesus and was on the way to see Philip. He wished all his cases were as easy as that. OK he did have a little help from a computer genius, but he thought he would have cracked it himself, eventually. The four of them got into Mike's Cadillac. They drove the short distance to the Sanctuary. They went to the Church. Philip was standing by the door. He held out his hand to Mike, and they shook hands quite formally.

"Hello brother," he said.

Mike walked into the church. There was already another man in there apart from Philip.

"This is the Cardinal Camerlengo," said Philip. "You can call him Edgar. Edgar, this is Jesus. Edgar is the head of State of the Holy See while there is no Pappa."

Edgar went down on one knee and bowed his head before Jesus.

"My Lord," he said. Jesus reached up his hand and helped the man stand up.

"You are a bad man," he said. "But I know you want to change. I can see goodness in you."

Father this man is good. I tell you he is the only priest I can trust. He will be a faithful servant to you.

Philip continued with the introductions, "This is Lawrence. He worked at the Institute that brought Jesus here. This is Mike, my brother." Finally, he looked at Jason and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know you."

"I'm Jason," said the boy. "I'm only here for the ride. Just ignore me."

"You have an important job to do," said Jesus.

The six of them sat down around the pews in the church and looked at each other.

Edgar broke the silence. "Philip invited me here. I'm but an ordinary priest and a servant of God. I have come to do your bidding."

"You're anything but an ordinary priest," said Philip. "You're the head of State for the Vatican at the moment, while there's no Pope. We know your proposal to sell off the Vatican treasures to the highest bidder and you are in the position to do it. You tell us that you will then donate the money to the poor. Why do you think we brought you here?"

"That is a proposal only John Paul and I knew, and he was vigorously opposed to it."

"And now he is dead."

There was a short silence. Philip continued, "There was a top secret meeting of Cardinals yesterday. You were at it Edgar. They have decided to hold the Conclave on Monday April 2. That's just 4 days' time. It will be in the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia's resort in the Italian Alps. The other three all want to make an offer to Jesus to become Pope. Jesus wants an end to the greed and corruption in the Church. He's tempted to accept the offer. Then he can put the church back to where he thinks it should be; a simple body that preaches a message of love and tolerance, rather than one bounded by pomp and tradition. We, and by that I mean all six of us, and going to Italy to be at the meeting. Every single one of the Cardinals there has an agenda. Everyone is corrupt. Jesus wants to cleanse the temple."

Mike interrupted him, "I can't be a part of a plan that is going to kill all the Cardinals. I've seen what you can do Philip. You killed my brother."

"First, we're not planning to kill the Cardinals. Far more importantly do you not realize Joe was my brother too?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's simple. Your computer expert," he pointed at Jason, "almost found the answer this morning. I am your brother. Our father was born with the name Philip. You, yourself are a member of the last generation. You are really my brother, Mike."

Mike slumped in the pew. Two days ago, he learned two of his brothers died. Today he found one more he never knew he had. This one was a considerable threat to the Catholic Church.

Philip continued, "It's a long story, but you need to know everything now. For over 1,900 years, the men called Philip lived and operated in Palestine. Every one of them had a son who they called Philip. When the First World War was over, the then current Philip, our grandfather, moved to Germany. He knew there would be another war and was ready for it. During the Second World War, his son Philip, our father, was responsible for clearing some of the trash out of the old guard. Some of the men he sent to the gas chambers were some of the worst offenders against Jesus' simple message. He also sent information about the German forces to the allies. His final plan was to kill Hitler. This he finally achieved in a bunker in Berlin. It wasn't suicide, as many people believe. Philip made one fatal flaw. He revealed his plan to one person too many. This person was a Zealot whose name was Oswald Pole. He started his own vendetta and used our methods and our secret word. Out of fear, my father went on the run. Eventually he returned to the Holy Land and changed his name to Leopold. He didn't know it at the time, but it finally ended on the day of Tom's bar mitzvah with the death of Oswald Pole. Philip was terrified. He had already been on the run for four years before settling back in Israel. He didn't know if this man was acting alone nor had allies. He went on the run again, and ended up in Seattle.

"Our traditions do state that the first-born son should bear the name Philip. They also state that the first-born son should come from the Holy Land. Our father knew he was going to have four sons. I don't know how, but he just knew. I was the last. I was born in the Holy Land. Tom and you were born in Germany. Joe was born in Turkey. I was destined to be Philip. I was the first-born boy in the Holy Land. I've never had children, so the line stops with me.

"Even when he went to Seattle, Lennie as he was then known was scared. He decided to remove me from the family and from any possible danger. The Priest from the Sanctuary here took me in. How Lennie knew him, I have no idea. Lennie wrote a long letter for me to read in the event of his death. I still have that. In it, he tells me my history. You could say I am an ordinary man with a demented father. However, over the years, people have sought me out. I don't know where they have come from, but each time they have been faithful to the cause. You might say God sent them, I can't comment on that. The last three to arrive are sitting with me now; Lawrence, Mike and yes, you too Jason. Did God send you? Now we have to make a plan. Jesus has a lot to do, and there's a Papal Conclave in 4 days' time and we have to be at it and ready for the final showdown.

## Chapter 20 \- The Conclave

The tiny village of Cortina d'Ampezzo completely sold out of its limited accommodation. There was not a room available in any Inn. The world Press Corps took most of them. One hundred and seventy five Cardinals occupied the brand new Ambassador Resort, which was not due to open until May 1. It nestled under the imposing cliffs of Tofana di Mezzo, the highest mountain in Tofane group. It was very close to the ski runs, which the developers hoped would make it a very desirable location.

Five disparate men, listed as Press Corps shared three rooms in the Hotel Cristallino d'Ampezzo.

They all knew their part in the plan and all set about their allotted tasks. Jason was busy. Edgar flew back to Italy the following morning. He had Vatican duties to perform. In the two days following, Jason arranged new identities, new passports, press passes with different national American media feeds and organize five different ways of travelling from New Mexico to the North of Italy. Jesus shaved off his beard, they all changed their hairstyles and colors and they bought plenty of cold weather clothing. Lawrence funded the entire project. He was not sure how much of the expenditure he actually authorized. It appeared Jason was quite happy to spend his money. Jason replaced Lawrence's British Passport with an American one. Lawrence Burstall became Bernie Lawrence and the national newspaper USA Today issued his press pass. Jesus obviously didn't have a passport. His new one bore the name Christian Davidson. Jason was pleased with that invention. Christian received a press pass from 104.1 K-FIS, the Portland Christian Radio that first interviewed him. Neither Mike nor Philip Jackson left the country since they arrived as children. Mike had a passport somewhere at home but he could not spend the time going back to Tennessee to retrieve it. Out of respect for their family heritage, they took the names Mikael and Philip Jacobowitz. Jason went into the F.B.I. files and wiped the records they kept on Philip, after carefully downloading them all first. NBC and CBS respectively issued them photographer's press passes. Finally, Jason already had a passport. His was in the name Jason Peterson. He also had a press pass. Fox News issued his for work as a computer expert backing up the digital recordings.

The flights were all long and circuitous. All involved two stopovers. Most were around 33 hours. When they arrived in Rome, they all took separate cars to the Alps. They finally arrived without incident and were all in the hotel on the afternoon of Palm Sunday. Jesus and Lawrence shared a room. This was new, but Jesus didn't want to waste money. He said he would be happy with the arrangement. Jason and Mike had grown used to each other's company. Both knew each other's bad habits and were becoming familiar with each other. This left Philip in a single room. They hired a Renault Scenic to drive them all around. Mike picked this up at Rome, Leonardo Da Vinci airport and drove up to the Alps. He was probably the one most used to long distance driving.

On Monday morning, they all met in the dining room of the hotel. The plan was to go together to the resort and use Jesus as their 'get into jail free' card to gain entry to the Conclave. Jesus had an official invitation, and Edgar arranged for Priority Conclave press passes for the other four men. Jesus was dressed in his traditional linen robe, which drew strange looks from the hotel staff they passed. The others were all dressed in easy fitting casual gear. As it was cold, they wore bulky sweaters and thermal underwear. Jesus, true to form, said he was not concerned about the cold but he did wear thermals.

They drove along the winding road up the hill and arrived at the security gate for the Ambassador resort. A burly-looking guard with a Beretta sub-machine gun hanging from his shoulder stopped the car.

He ordered them out, while a team of security men searched the vehicle. They went completely over it with sophisticated sensing equipment and used sniffer dogs to check for explosives. They put four laptop computers they found through x-ray equipment and turned them on to check they worked. They weren't taking any chances with the Conclave's security. Jason brought his favorite laptop of course. His three other old ones were the recipients of Lawrence's special engineering skills. Once through security, he opened the bases of these laptops. He carefully engineered them to have secret compartments containing sophisticated plastic pistols. When the security checked, they were still working computers, yet they were hiding the smuggled weapon. They were also x-ray proofed, to give a misleading footprint when scanned. Lawrence covered all the bases. The team took the pistols and hid them under their bulky sweaters. Jesus didn't take one; he said his mission today was diplomatic and peaceful.

Mike drove the team up to the Ambassador. As they rounded the last bend in the road, Mike had his first look at it. From Jason's research, they knew the layout of the resort by heart. Jason downloaded the floor plans and they memorized them. He even downloaded the plans of the basement and service corridors. They never knew if they might need an escape route. There was an impressive entrance lobby in front of a ten-storey residence tower. Behind it was a large low conference center. Coming off either side of these two were enclosed walkways. These led to the resort's dining facilities, the bars, the swimming pool and the spa areas. They even had a tropical garden totally enclosed in glass. Mike reckoned the new center could make an impressive setting for a conference. He thought it totally inappropriate for the Conclave.

Mike looked at the Swiss Guard, the traditional keepers of security in the Vatican, who manned the doors. He thought they looked resplendent in their uniforms. He couldn't miss seeing them; the blue, red and yellow fabric contrasted with the brilliant white of the entrance lobby. He was glad he didn't have to wear their uniform. He wondered how long it took them to dress in their full ceremonial outfits; white ruff collars, white gloves, flounced breeches and highly polished steel breastplate. He checked out their silver helmets and noted most wore red ostrich plumes. He could see a few of the men sporting dark purple plumes. These he knew were the Officers, people to track later in the event of trouble. Jason did his research on the Guard well. He downloaded the personnel files for the Officers, as they were all members of the Swiss Army. Fortunately, for the team, this force recently computerized their records. Mike checked the faces of the Officers he could see. From the photographs in the files, which he memorized on the long flight over, he recognized many of the higher-ranking men. More importantly, Mike could see in addition to the sword they wore on their left side and the long halberd they held to their right, they all wore their SIG Sauer P220 handguns at their sides. A few of the guards, tucked back discretely, were bearing the standard issue SIG SG 550 assault rifle. They were dressed in the far more practical working uniform. These would be the men to watch.

They entered the complex. Edgar, the Camerlengo told them that the security at the gate would be the only check, and he was right. Once through this and they could carry their contraband safely. They showed their Conclave passes and a guard showed to the main assembly area.

By tradition, the Cardinals locked themselves in a secret session while the vote took place. The Dean invited Jesus to this formal session. Apart from him, the only people who could be there were the Cardinals. The team debated the possibility of engineering Cardinal's passes, but the Vatican had not computerized its records and four strange Cardinals would stand out too much. Jason, at 16, was far too young to be a Cardinal, and the job of making him up as an old man was too daunting. In the end, they decided to make their move at the slightly more public welcoming ceremony. Not everyone would be there, but most of the Cardinals would gather, and a small number of selected media people were invited. The four men were on this selected media list.

They walked into the main conference hall and the lavish surroundings immediately made an impression on them. Cream-colored silk adorned the walls. The carpet on the floor was deep and rich. It was a dark maroon in color. On the ceiling were a number of decorative plasterwork medallions, reminiscent of Royal palaces. Along the sides were ornamental cornices. The crowning glory was the elegant modern chandelier, which cast a soft light over the entire room. It appeared to be a river of glass, snaking around the entire conference room. On one side of the hall, there was a dais. Set out facing this were 200 chairs covered in cream silk upholstery. On the dais stood an elaborate top table. It made a truly impressive sight. The organizers intended it to be a replica of the table at the last supper. However, instead of being a simple wooden table with a plain white cloth, it was a heavy marble-topped table covered in a white silk tablecloth with pleated maroon edging to match the carpet. The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia, who organized the event, took many items from the Vatican strong rooms, and displayed them on the table. Along with huge gold candlesticks at each end, there were golden chalices, plates, and ornate centerpieces. There was a blank space in the center, as if it was waiting for a special object to be placed there. He intended it as a display of the treasures of the Vatican. This overt show of wealth was one of the main aspects of the current Church that upset Jesus. Behind this was a plush red throne. The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia intended this throne to be vacant, symbolizing the power of God and to be the throne for the next pope after the election process was complete. He did not know if Jesus accepted the invitation to attend.

When he arrived, the first thing Jesus did was to go up on the dais. He found a waiter and immediately ordered him to remove the throne. Something in his manner made the man obey the instruction. Two porters arrived and they changed the throne for a simple wooden chair. Jesus approved this, and sat down. The rest of the team took their places on the press seats towards the center of the hall.

Slowly the Cardinals filed in. They made an impressive spectacle. They were all dressed in their formal robes. They were resplendent in their scarlet chasubles, which they wore over the top of white albs. Many of them also wore white dalmatics under the alb. On their heads, most wore the traditional zucchetto in scarlet. A few wore the wide brimmed galero, although this was not officially part of their dress any more. The Dean and the Camerlengo wore copes embroidered in gold over the top of their robes. Most of them came in to hear the first sermon, which the Dean would deliver after the welcome. After this, the Dean would exclude the press, lock the doors and the rest of the meeting would be in secret. In previous Conclaves, the intention of the sermon was to lay out the current state of the Church, and to suggest the qualities necessary for a pope to possess in that specific time. The Dean decided to keep this format and to use this press meeting as a welcome. He knew it was unorthodox, but these were desperate times.

The top table had thirteen seats. This was a reminder of the Last Supper. Jesus was in the center one. On his left sat the Dean and on his right, the Camerlengo. The other Cardinals favored with top table seats were some of the more senior members of the Vatican inner circle. Notably they included the Archbishops of Paris and Sao Salvador da Bahia.

The Dean signaled to the Swiss Guard. Four of them came in carrying a wooden casket between them. They placed this on the table in front of the Dean. He took off the lid, and removed an ornate silver chalice. It was black with age and a little dented, but it was still revered. It was about 6 inches high and about the same in diameter. On the outside were designs. One side showed an older man appearing to be carrying the body of a younger one. Maybe this was meant to represent his firstborn son. On the other side was a nine-branched candlestick. It was reputed that this was the cup that Jesus had used at the Last Supper. It was also reported it had caught his blood when the Roman Centurion stabbed him in the side. This was the Holy Grail. Its power was unknown, but it was thought to give the bearer contact with God himself. It had been in the personal possession of the Pope since the days of the first head of the Church, Peter. At least that's what the Gospels and the holy records of the Vatican said. Apart from its intrinsic value, it had religious significance beyond all the gold on the top table. It was reputed to have almost magical powers. Salvador had left a space on the top table for the object. It had never been seen outside the Vatican before. It had never been seen by the public before. It had never been accessible before. Salvador had suggested the Dean brought it. The Camerlengo was unhappy about it leaving the stronghold of the Vatican, but in the end, he relented. He had asked the guard to bring it in their most secure transport, and there it was.

The Dean stood up intending to welcome the assembled company. Before he could say a word, Jesus himself stood and held out his arms to indicate silence. When everyone settled, Jesus walked down into the body of the room and took the hand of Philip. Philip stood up and together they walked back to the top table. Several of the Cardinals knew who this man was and they were shocked to see him at this gathering. They feared trouble. The Dean stood up, offered Philip his chair. Philip refused it, and walked to the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia. He sat three chairs to Jesus left. Jesus indicated he should give his seat to Philip. As the Archbishop knew this man well, he surrendered his seat without saying a word. Philip sat in it and Jesus returned to the center. The Archbishop retired to the back of the dais and did not sit down.

The Dean stood again and prepared to speak. For the second time, Jesus stood and held up his arms for silence. It was now obvious the Dean was not in charge of the meeting. Jesus started to speak.

"Welcome friends," he said in English. "I do not like it here. You make a simple meal into a rich man's feast. My English is not good, so Philip will speak for me." He pointed to Philip.

Philip stood and spoke in Latin. This was the universal language of the Catholic Church. The Dean arranged for a skilled linguist to provide a simultaneous translation via a wireless headphone system. He could translate the words as people uttered them. If a speaker talked in Latin, he would simul-translate the message into English. If the speaker used English, he could relay it in Latin. It was far more reliable than the previous translation system Jesus was involved with on the Late Show. Many of the press donned headphones and a waiter handed a pair to Jesus.

"My friends," Philip started. "Jesus has asked me to welcome everyone here. He does not speak Latin and finds English a strain. Very few people speak his native language of Aramaic, and we doubted many of you spoke Hebrew, so he has asked me to deliver his welcoming speech. I speak with his authority. Jesus has returned 80 generations after his first appearance on earth. He has come to see what has become of his simple message. My ancestor, Philip, sat with the same Jesus at a similar table almost 2,000 years ago. He sat in the same seat as I do today. Then the table was bare wood and the Passover feast that day was simple. Jesus gave my ancestor a task. That was to keep his message pure and make sure people did not corrupt it. He also imbued me with certain powers to help me achieve that goal. You have seen my works and those of my father and his father before him. You know my power."

There was total silence in the auditorium. Many of the Cardinals were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. They had not expected this greeting.

He continued, "Today Jesus has returned. He is not pleased with what he sees. This table is a travesty of the simple Passover feast when Jesus offered bread as his body and wine as the blood of his new covenant. They had no fancy cloths, they had no gold and they had no thrones. It was a bare table set for a simple meal. Now we will put that to rights."

With that, he walked to the end of the table. Jesus joined him. Edgar, the Camerlengo picked up the silver cup from the center of the table and kissed it reverently. He handed it to the Dean and then went to the end of the table. Together the three men pulled hard at the white tablecloth. Slowly, the cloth moved towards the three men. They kept pulling. The candlestick nearest the end fell off the table. There was a thud as it landed on the floor. Several Cardinals drew a sharp intake of breath. The men kept pulling. The gold dishes and chalices followed the candlestick. When the golden centerpieces reached the end, they too tumbled into the growing pile of priceless ornaments. They continued pulling until the entire table was bare and there was a considerable pile of damaged gold objects lying on the floor. Jesus walked back to the center. He took a small wooden crucifix out of a bag around his neck and stood it in the middle of the table. Then he sat down. The Dean replaced the silver cup next to it. Philip returned to his place and started speaking again.

"The wooden crucifix that Jesus has placed in front of him is the only symbol we need. It is not made of precious metal, yet it is more valuable than all the gold on the floor. This small cross saved two men's lives. One of them was my ancestor, Philip. The other was my brother Tom. The silver cup has little monetary value, yet it is the same cup that was used in the Passover feast almost 2,000 years ago at what we call today the Last Supper."

The only person in the room who understood the information about the wooden crucifix was Mike. Philip told him the story of how the crucifix saved Tom's life. Mike knew the story of Peter's betrayal and Phil and Tom's arrest by the Roman soldiers. This was one of the secrets passed from father to son by the men called Philip. They knew the real truth about the Passion.

"Now we speak of the future. Jesus wants nothing to do with a Church that is corrupt and greedy. He will destroy the Church unless it changes. You all know his power and you know he can destroy every corrupt priest, tear down every decadent building and render valueless every priceless ornament. Unless," he paused for dramatic effect. "Unless," he started again, "you agree to his terms."

There was complete silence. No one knew what to say or what to do next. They were all waiting for Jesus' terms. They never came. The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia, who was standing at the back of the dais walked forward. In one hand, he held a gun; in the other, he held a knife. He walked up behind Jesus and put his arm around his throat. The knife was stroking Jesus' neck. He held the gun, waving it at the assembled people.

"I've had enough of this Jesus stuff'" Salvador started. "Nobody knows if this man is genuine. He comes in here as if he owns the place, look what he's done to our treasures. He has no respect for our Church. We all sit here and take it. Well, I'm not going to take it anymore."

There was complete silence in the hall. Salvador said, "Jesus, pick up the silver cup, put it into this bag. We're leaving."

Jesus picked up the cup of the Last Supper and placed it in a cloth bag that Salvador had hung on a strap round his neck. Salvador started to back out away from the table. His right arm firmly around Jesus' neck. The blade was dangerously close to his throat. His left hand was waving the gun dangerously in the air. Suddenly Lawrence stood up.

He yelled at Salvador, "Stop! I know the man is genuine. I brought him back from the past. I can vouch for his wounds. He was close to death when we found him. This is the real Jesus." That was enough to make the attacker pause. His attention was now focused into the body of the auditorium.

Salvador looked at Lawrence and replied, "How can I believe you? Ever since this man has come, there's been trouble. He's responsible for the assassination of the former Pope. He's nothing more than a terrorist."

In the seconds that his attention was focused on the auditorium, Philip silently stood up. He crossed behind the pair grabbed at Salvador's hand. However, he was too slow. At the last moment, he heard Philip's approach. He spun round, still clutching Jesus and fired a shot. The bullet went straight through Philip's heart. He died instantly. The cardinals were in chaos. Many of them dived onto the floor. Others were sitting. Some were weeping, one loud scream echoed through the assembly.

"So you are the great and all-powerful Philip are you?" he said. "Now you're the dead and powerless Philip.

They walked slowly backwards, out of the conference room holding Jesus as a shield in front of him. He disappeared into a corridor. The meeting was now in pandemonium. Mike ignored the chaos and rushed up to Philip. The man was dead. He checked for any life signs and when it was obvious he was beyond help, he simply closed Philip's eyes.

"Goodbye, brother," was all he said. He stood up, "Jason, I need you now. Let's have all the Cardinals down into the body of the assembly, no one leaves. My team up here, and you too Edgar, please. Guard, lock the doors and stop anyone going anywhere. Make sure that Cardinal and Jesus do not leave the building." He turned to the Dean, "Can you take care of my brother please. Make sure everyone treats his body with respect. He said several times that he was the last generation."

The Dean made the sign of the cross over Philip's body and started softly saying prayers for his soul.

People scattered everywhere. Some of the Swiss Guard left the room and made sure they locked the external doors.

## Chapter 21 \- The Last Generation

Mike knew he had to take on the role of leader. He assembled his team on the dais. First, he spoke to Jason.

"I need you to get busy with your computer," said Mike. "I've seen it in a movie somewhere. Can you look into the resort's control systems?"

"I've been in already," said Jason. "I've bookmarked the pages on the internet. They use the internet to connect the security cameras to the various offices. That is all I need."

"That Cardinal is holding Jesus hostage. We have to find him, and fast. See if you can find us some views from the cameras. You remember when we traced Lawrence, you showed me the CCTV from the gas station. I would like to see that again. I doubt your F.B.I. satellites will help indoors."

"You've hit it," said Jason. "I'll use the F.B.I. They have more links into private systems than people realize. Being abroad doesn't stop them either."

Jason started work. "As soon as we've found him," said Mike, "we can isolate him. I want to make sure he doesn't escape, and that no one challenges or threatens him. I don't want him to harm Jesus."

He looked around at the Swiss Guard. He saw one man with a dark purple plume on his uniform. He recognized him from the dossiers and called him over.

"Oberstleutnant Zappa, is the commander here?"

Zappa replied, "no, but I can contact him." He indicated a tiny radio transmitter hidden under his breastplate, and an earpiece in his ear.

Mike recalled the details of the personnel file. He knew this man was the second in command. He remembered Zappa was an excellent shot and there was a mention on the file that when he was in the Swiss Army he won several shooting awards.

"Oberstleutnant, I've read about your shooting skills. Can you find a rifle and be ready for sniper duties when we need them. The time will come later for an enquiry as to why the Guard didn't stop the rogue Archbishop. Now I want you to make sure Colonel Testa knows the man is dangerous, and he's holding a hostage. I'm in the F.B.I. and I am used to hostage situations. Unless the Colonel has a problem, I'm in charge. If you need authority, contact Washington D.C." It was that little white lie again. This time his authority was evident. Zappa seemed relieved it would be someone else's call.

Mike added as an afterthought, "You might like to dress in something more suitable." There was no need for this comment. Zappa had already taken off his ceremonial helmet and was unbuckling his breastplate. He called to a member of the Guard to bring him a tracksuit.

"Edgar, I need someone to keep the Cardinals under control. That will be your job for now. Go out among them and stop them wanting to leave. No one can go anywhere. Is there any way you can contact the Cardinals who aren't here and ask them to lock themselves in their rooms?"

"That's easy," Edgar replied. "Modern technology will help me now." He pulled out his mobile phone from beneath this Alb. He typed a simple message 'Stay where you are. Do not leave your room. Lock the door.' He pressed group send. Over 150 mobile phones instantly beeped in the hall.

"So much for putting your phone on silent," he remarked quietly. He called out to the Cardinals in the hall and repeated the message not to leave.

Jason called out to Mike, "I'm in the system and I've found them." Even Mike was impressed with the speed. He looked at the monitor on Jason's laptop and saw the two men in a narrow service corridor.

"Can you find plans of the building and show me where they are?"

Jason pressed a few buttons. The last one simply said 'TAG'. "I have them locked now," he said. "The security cameras will keep the F.B.I. informed where they go. Now I'll show you a map."

A moment later a blueprint of the whole complex appeared on the screen. There was an 'X' in a corridor heading to the outside. They appeared to be very close to an exit door.

"Can you stop them leaving?" asked Mike.

"Ask me something difficult can you?" replied Jason. A few more clicks and he said, "That exit door is now security locked. Even he won't be able to open it. Unless he knows the master code of course."

Edgar was listening in to all this. He said to Jason, "He probably has the master code. This complex is his. His company has built it."

"Well, I better change it then hadn't I," replied the lad.

A few clicks on the keyboard later, and the monitor showed the corridor again. Salvador still had his arm around Jesus, but his other hand was tapping furiously into a key pad by the door. He tried it several times before he finally gave up."

"Looks like I stopped him just in time," said Jason. "If he knows the place, he'll be looking for another safe way out. We can't corner him. He'll just kill Jesus."

They watched the camera. Salvador was now pulling a mobile phone from under his robe.

"He's reading the message," said Jason. "I'll hack his phone in case he makes a call. Edgar, to save me time do you have the number?"

The Camerlengo pulled out his own mobile. He checked the contact list and read a long number out to Jason.

"Thanks, and just in time too. He's making a call now."

They listened in to the call on the loudspeaker of Jason's computer.

"Leon, I need a helicopter now."

"Where are you?

"In the basement."

"You're early. You have the cup?"

"Yes, I need to leave now. I have a hostage."

"I'll scramble now. Five minutes OK? By the forest as we agreed?"

"No there's a change, collect me on the roof of the Residence tower. I'll be there as soon as I can, wait for my call. Hover by the peak. I don't want them to see you if I am delayed."

That was all they needed to know. By his own admission, Salvador told them he had a plan to steal the Holy Grail. He had a helicopter ready to effect a get-away. His plan had gone disastrously wrong. Nevertheless, he was still armed and held Jesus hostage. He intended to leave the complex with Jesus. He wondered about the power of the Chalice. Salvador had thrown away everything to get it. Obviously, it was incredibly valuable and the Church would pay a huge amount to get it back, but its power was legendary. It was supposed to give the holder the power of God.

"Can you stop him sending the 'collect me' message," asked Mike.

A few mouse clicks and Jason said, "His phone's dead now. I've blocked it."

Jason went back to the monitor and found Salvador and Jesus again. They were heading for an elevator.

Mike said, "I guess they're heading for the residence tower roof. Is there any way off it apart from the 'copter?"

Jason answered, "Not that I can see, the building's ten stories tall. I really don't think Salvador can fly even if Jesus can."

Mike called to Oberstleutnant Zappa. "Can I have five of those radios, and is it possible to put them on a private channel?"

The man called out to five of his colleagues. They all pulled out their radios and changed the channel. "That's secure," he said. Mike took the radios and handed them round. One went to Jason and Lawrence, one he handed to Edgar. The fourth he gave back to Zappa and the last one he kept himself.

"Put those on, we may be splitting up here. Edgar, you're on Cardinal watch. Jason, you're in charge of keeping Salvador and Jesus under surveillance. Lawrence, I need something constructing really fast. I need device to down a helicopter. Any ideas?"

"Do you mean shoot it down or disable it electronically?" asked Lawrence.

"Which one can give me the greatest range?" Mike asked.

"Electronic, I think," said Lawrence. "I've made internet jammers before."

"Can you build it quickly?"

"About 5 minutes and it will be online."

"Then I need a helicopter jammer."

"I can program one that transmits through the Wi-Fi using Jason's computer," he said. With that, Lawrence scuttled away and started talking to Jason. That left Zappa and Mike.

"We're after Salvador," said Mike and the two of them ran off towards the residence block elevators.

Mike and Zappa started through the corridors. Jason handed his computer to Lawrence who started furiously downloading programs from illicit websites and combining them together. He had obviously done this before and appeared to be as experienced at computer programming as he was at mechanical engineering. Jason watched fascinated. There weren't many things that other people could teach him. Here he was learning rapidly.

Mike and Zappa reached the top of the stairs, just by the roof door. It was standing wide open. Mike called through his radio to Lawrence.

"Any luck on that jammer?" he asked.

"Almost done, it will be ready in a minute. I've written the program. All I have to do is upload it to the internet and it's ready to go." They waited and observed Salvador and Jesus. After a very short while, Lawrence arrived at the door to the roof.

Gasping for breath, he panted at them, "I've set everything up on Jason's computer. All he has to do is press the button when the helicopter's in range. I'll contact him on the radio and tell him."

The three of them peered out cautiously. They could see Salvador on the far side of the roof, around a hundred feet away. He was using Jesus as a shield and was still furiously trying to contact the helicopter. He removed his chasuble and was waving the scarlet cloth to attract attention. The helicopter appeared a long way off. It was hovering right over the cliffs of Tofana di Mezzo, the major peak of the Tofane group to the West of the resort. It was not moving, which suggested it could not see him.

Lawrence said softly to Mike, "I think it's too far away to jam but I'll radio Jason and ask him to try when you're ready."

Mike said, " Are you sure that's going to work?"

Lawrence said, "I've never been more sure in my life. I've made one of these once before. It will jam the pilot's controls and put the 'copter into a dive. But it does have to be in range, and I guess at the moment it's right on the limit."

It was neither the time nor place, but Mike made a mental note to ask Lawrence why he made a helicopter jammer before.

Mike called out, "Give up and release Jesus. You're trapped here. The helicopter isn't coming and you can't escape.

"Stay back," yelled Salvador, "or Jesus dies."

Mike said quietly to Zappa, "Can you shoot him from here?"

"I can, but he's not an easy target. With Jesus in front of him, it's a risky shot."

"Line him up in your sights and if you have a clear shot, shoot. I'll try and make him expose himself."

Mike walked out onto the roof. He held up his arms to indicate he was unarmed.

"Let's talk about this. I'm sure we can reach some compromise. Tell me what you're trying to achieve."

Mike started to walk sideways. He was hoping to put an angle between Salvador, Zappa and himself, so Zappa could have a clear shot. He whispered in the radio mic "Jason, I need a diversion and I need you to give Salvador use of his phone."

Down below in the conference room, Jason tapped the computer. Salvador's phone was now back in use. That part of the plan worked well. The diversion, however, came from the conference hall rather than on the rooftop.

Edgar walked around the Cardinals, trying to keep order. He decided to ask them all to kneel in prayer for Jesus, to ask his father for help. He sent a text message around everyone earlier telling them to stay in their rooms. One of these Cardinals, who was not in the conference room, was Francisco Montagna. He was 94 and too old to vote in the election. He was the oldest living Cardinal and proud of the fact he was still fit enough to attend the Conclave. He didn't understand mobile phones. When his beeped he came downstairs to ask someone to show him what to do with it. All the Swiss Guards were nervous. They were aware they failed from preventing the hostage situation. They knew their Colonel would be having serious words with them later. Noisily Francisco entered the room by a side door. He could not walk fast, and the door he used to come in was right by the top table. He looked at the gold piled on the floor and screamed. One of the Swiss Guard over-reacted and fired his gun without thinking. He hit the old man and the Cardinal fell to the ground. The rest of the assembled Cardinals started to panic. Many of them dived on the floor again. In the pandemonium that ensued, several other Guards drew their pistols. They fired into the air to try to make the Cardinals to be quiet. Edgar was calling out for calm. Someone knocked over an ashtray by the conference room entrance where Cardinals had put dead cigarettes. The contents fell against the silk hangings. In the panic, no one noticed it. Smoke started to come out from the silk. Obviously somewhere along the line, the builders ignored the specification from the Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia that said they should fireproof the hangings. The smoke drifted slowly upwards. Lazily it curled towards a smoke detector. When it reached it, an alarm sounded and the automatic sprinkler system went off.

This had two effects. The Cardinals screamed louder and the water found the only weakness in Jason's laptop - the keyboard. Although he covered it quickly, he wasn't fast enough to stop the water going in. There was a flash and the monitor went black. Without his computer, he was powerless to help the men on the roof. He lost the internet connection to the jammer. The delegate hall now had 165 wet panicking Cardinals in it. Jason had no laptop. He made an instant decision.

Jason spoke into the receiver, "We have a problem here Mike. Edgar is going to take the Cardinals out the hall; they're going out the front entrance. I have to dash to the car."

Jason told Edgar to hurry the Cardinals outside. It was cold and they were wet, but moving them would stop them becoming wetter. In addition, it would keep them busy and maybe stop them screaming. It would also provide the diversion Mike asked for earlier. The men started walking slowly out of the room. They walked through the main corridor and out of the grand entrance hall. Slowly they emerged into the open air and started to shiver. At least they did stop panicking and now had something else on their minds. The atmosphere in the hall was overwrought. This move released a lot of the tension. Several of the men started weeping. Many of them were saying prayers under their breath. Edgar, aided by the Swiss Guard, was now firmly in control. Jason set off for the car in the car park as quickly as he could.

On the roof, Mike started to open an angle to allow Zappa a clear shot at Salvador. However, the man guessed what he was doing.

Salvador called out, "Stop right there. I know what you're up to. Don't move any further."

Mike stopped. He said, "What do you want, I can organize anything for you. If you let Jesus go unharmed we will consider any demands."

"I want contact with my helicopter, I want the gold from the delegate room brought up here by Cardinals and I want clear passage out of here. When I am out of the area, with the gold and the chalice, I will release Jesus in a safe place."

Mike shouted at Lawrence so that Salvador could hear. "Go down to the Conference room and tell the Cardinals to start bringing the gold up here." Into his radio, he said quietly "Ask guards to swop clothes with Cardinals and get them to bring the gold up here. They're stronger and fitter and can carry more. If it turns real nasty, they will be of more use." He called out to Salvador "That will take some time. My friend is going down now to start bringing the gold up here. In the meantime, relax." He knew he had to calm the situation and keep Salvador from over-reacting. He also had to keep talking.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, Salvador noticed the Cardinals coming out the front entrance. His position was ten floors immediately above the entrance canopy. A throng of men, dressed in red garments started pouring out the doors into the car park. For a moment, he was distracted. As he turned to look below, Jesus was no longer directly in the line of fire. Zappa seized the moment.

Oberstleutnant Zappa fired. Maybe this man won medals for sharp shooting in the Army, but at this critical moment, his skills deserted him. Whether it was the pressure of the second, or whether he was not as precise as he used to be, he missed. The bullet, instead of going into Salvador's head, nicked his shoulder. Salvador was enraged. He yanked Jesus back in front of him and fired his pistol. Mike went down.

In the Conference room, the last of the Cardinals were just leaving. Edgar heard the message on the radio from the roof. He stopped the last six from going and shouted at six of the Swiss Guards.

"Swop clothes now. It's urgent. Don't argue" The Cardinals stripped off their scarlet chasubles and white albs. The Guards took off their helmets and breastplates. They swiftly donned the clerical robes. Finally, the Cardinals handed over their scarlet zucchettos. By the time Lawrence entered the hall, there were six new 'Cardinals' ready to carry the gold.

Lawrence said to them, "Pick up as much gold as you can carry and follow me to the roof." It took all three elevators to transport the men and the gold. Such was the weight. Nevertheless, in less than five minutes they were at the foot of the stairs leading to the roof.

Mike was now weak and bleeding heavily lying out on the roof. Zappa, still in the shelter of the stairwell, was doing the talking. He was speaking to Salvador. At the foot of the stairs, he could see the Guard/Cardinals with Lawrence and their golden ransom and called out.

"The gold's here, what do you want us to do with it?"

"Bring it out on to the roof, slowly," said Salvador.

The Guards, unfamiliar with their new uniforms, shuffled the gold to the roof. They piled it close to the door.

"I want contact with the helicopter. Then I want everyone to leave the roof. Hurry."

Lawrence called, "You can contact the helicopter. I think you'll find your phone will work."

Salvador kept his eyes firmly on the assembled men. He pulled out his phone and pressed the redial button. This time it rang.

"You ready boss?"

"Come in now, we have the cup and the gold and a hostage still."

Jason darted down the corridors. It was a long run to the car park. Fortunately, he was fit and young. At a pace that would have done an Olympic sprinter justice, he sped across to the car park. The opened the back door of the car and pulled one of his old modified laptops out. He pressed the on switch and it failed to start. Nothing. The power light didn't even come on. He pressed again. The machine was dead. Something had obviously gone wrong with Lawrence's conversion since they opened the bases and took the guns out. It worked when security tested it. He had no idea why it failed now. He grabbed a second machine. This time the power light came on. Fifteen seconds later, there was a large flash and something shorted inside. The computer emitted a small puff of smoke and shut down. Jason was now becoming desperate. He did not expect the computers to fail. There was one left, this was his last hope. He put it on the back seat of the car, opened the lid and powered it up. Third time lucky he prayed. Whether the prayer worked, or maybe the conversion was more stable, but the laptop started to crank up. There was the familiar boot screen, followed by the Windows logo of flying colored squares. When he heard the familiar 'sing-song' noise of the Windows operating system, he breathed a small sigh of relief. Jason's prime laptop could boot in less than fifteen seconds. That was one of the adaptations that made it so powerful. These laptops had no such refinements. The machine didn't seem to want to complete its boot. It was taking an age.

The helicopter started towards the Resort. Lawrence, not knowing the problems Jason was having, called down the radio, "Now, I think the 'copter's in range, NOW." Nothing happened.

Despite the fact that Salvador held Jesus in a vice-like grip, and his knife was still at his throat, Jesus called out in a loud and powerful voice, "STOP."

Through his radio, Jason heard Mike shout. He hit the internet explorer button. The machine wasn't ready and it hung. Jason thought 'please open the browser, please'. After what seemed like a lifetime, the browser window opened. He rapidly typed in the address of the website Lawrence used. The internet connection was strong, even in the car park. The resort boasted a powerful internet transmitter.

The helicopter was closing in. Lawrence screamed down the radio "PRESS THE BUTTON NOW." Maybe Jason's computer wasn't as powerful as he thought.

In his earpiece, Jason heard Lawrence shout. It was now or never. He pressed the button.

Jesus firmly repeated the command, "STOP"

The helicopter appeared simply to stop flying. The blades appeared to stop rotating. One moment it was over the top of the cliffs of Tofana di Mezzo, the next moment it was plunging downwards, spiraling to earth. No one ever knew why. Maybe Lawrence's jammer in Jason's substitute computer disabled it. Maybe there was another, less earthly, reason. They would never know.

The helicopter plummeted into the top of the cliff, immediately above the resort, and burst into flames. The resulting explosion had a devastating effect. As it was spring, the snow on the cliffs above the resort was melting. It was losing its grip on the mountain. The explosion dislodged a small quantity of it near the top of the cliff. Slowly the small quantity of snow picked up speed. As it descended, it dislodged more and more powder. The energy of the snow grew and it started to take out small trees. These joined the ever-increasing quantity of wet, heavy snow and cascaded down the hill. Soon it picked up boulders and the whole side of the mountain appeared to collapse. The underlying rock was crumbling and a vast area of the cliff descended. It was a huge cliff. Thousands of tons of rock, trees, debris and all the covering snow were heading for the resort. The men watched immobilized as the avalanche grew in power and strength and rushed, unstoppably, towards them.

Salvador was the first to react. He pushed Jesus away and started to run towards the top of the stairs. Suddenly escaping with the gold was less of a concern than saving his own life. Zappa fired again. This time the bullet did not miss. It went right through the front of Salvador's skull.

Jesus stumbled. They had been right by the edge of the roof, and Salvador's push propelled him over the low parapet. He fell, his arms and legs flailing in the air.

The Guards and Zappa started down the stairs towards the ground. They too, knew they had to escape quickly to leave with their lives. Lawrence ran over to Mike.

"Leave me," started Mike he coughed weakly. "The bullet has done too much damage. I'll slow you down too much. Go"

Lawrence didn't know what to say. He thought there was a chance he'd save Mike. The avalanche was rushing towards them.

"Go now, go." With that, he drew his last breath and died.

Lawrence left. He just witnessed the death of the last of the Sons of Philip. The line had truly ended.

Jesus fell to the ground ten stories below. He crashed through the cloth canopy over the entrance doors, landing right between the Dean and the Archbishop of Paris as they were standing by the entrance doors to the center. The men rushed over to him.

Jesus lay there, not moving. With his last breath he simply said, "My work here is finished. Edgar must be Pope. He is a good man." He closed his eyes and stopped breathing. The Dean noticed something odd. He missed it before in the conference room. Embroidered on Jesus' robe was a single word, 'Echmoth'.

The Cardinals saw the avalanche starting. The all ran for their lives. Rapidly the snow gained momentum. More and more fell from the mountainside. They ran to the safety of the car park, which was out of the direct line of the fall. Hotel staff and Guards who also left the complex when the sprinklers started helped the older, infirm men. Then the avalanche hit the complex. It crushed the glass tropical garden in seconds and covered the bars. It broke the roof of the swimming pool and filled it. Slowly and with increasing force, it started to smother the conference room. Soon it completely buried this center. Eventually the weight of snow and debris caused the roof to cave in. The conference room shielded the base of the residence tower for a time and this ten-storey tower still stuck out proudly from the growing pile of snow. Then the rocks arrived. They had the force of gravity behind them, having fallen many thousands of feet from the cliff. These pounded the base of the tower and slowly the back wall started to crumble. As the pulverizing rocks breached the structure, they tore out the supporting columns and it slowly collapsed. The snow and rocks now had a clear path to the grand entrance hall. The avalanche covered the ruins of the tower and poured towards the final exit doors. As it closed in on the hall, Lawrence came running out the doors. He sprinted to the safety of the car park and collapsed on the pavement. He was the last man to escape from the resort.

Eight Cardinals died that day in their rooms. They remained locked in following Edgar's text message. Edgar never forgave himself for that and spent many hours in penance. One hundred and sixty six escaped with a few having minor injuries. These included Francisco Montagna, the 94-year-old man who started the panic. Four members of the Swiss Guard and seven hotel staff failed to escape the onrush of the snow. Although the Alpine Rescue teams spent many days digging, they never found any of the bodies. The list of officially missing people included Philip, Mike, The Archbishop of Sao Salvador da Bahia and Jesus. The snow was too deep and it was too dangerous to excavate further in the ruins of the resort. Years later, on a warm Spring morning, a poor boy leading his sheep up to the high pastures would find something shiny and golden glinting in the Spring snow melt. His family would not be hungry again.

Edgar, the Cardinal Camerlengo knelt in supplication at the feet of the Dean, who just told him Jesus' last words. Edgar knew the Conclave would be re-convened soon. He guessed it would be right after Easter. The Dean would hold it in the Sistine Chapel. The Cardinals were at home there. Edgar also knew that with Jesus' blessing and his last words to the Dean and the Archbishop of Paris, he was the chosen man to become the next Pope. He decided there and then to take on the name of Pope Philip I. He already started, in his mind, to think about auctioning some of the greatest treasures of the Vatican. He knew the poor parishes and a few worthy charities were going to benefit from large donations. Instead of taxation, the poor ones would receive donations. He would later arrange another Conclave when he was in position as Pope. This College would approve a new Papal Bull. He was going to remove some of the excesses from the Church's ceremony and take it back to its simple origins. He smiled and knew the future was going to be very different. Some people were in for a real shock.

Back in Hopewell, Tennessee, a 42-year-old man named Philip woke with a start. He knew his father just died. He dreamed that Mike was on the roof of a tower block. Someone shot him. He was not dead when the tower collapsed and an avalanche buried his body. His own son, also called Philip came into his room. Even though he was nearly a man at the age of 17, the nightmare he just went through scared him so much, he needed comfort from his father. They dreamed the same dream. They hugged for comfort and the son went back to bed. What neither told the other was that they both were having the same hazy premonition for days. This time they knew it was real.

Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.

###

# THANK YOU

I really am grateful for the time and trouble you have gone to reading my book. If you appreciated it, you might like to know there are more stories in the pipeline. There's the story of Jason and Lawrence, and their round the world tour. There's always the possibility that three days later - but that's for another book.

Check out my websites to read more and please subscribe to my mailing list. Then I can send you notification when the next tale emerges.

I want to end by taking the time to thank all the people who have helped me with this book. First, I want to thank Matthew for putting up with the unending questions on writing; Duc for the use of his bar to drink coffee in and chat; and Roger and everyone who has proof read this and offered comments. Without you, I could not have done it.

Thanks again

Guy

About the author:

See I used to be cute once! Now I'm 56 and I live in Thailand. I've had an odd and varied life. I've held jobs varying from manager of a self-storage facility in London to owner of a small museum in Tennessee. I've lived in many places and enjoyed travelling around. Now I'm semi-retired and write to put a crust of bread on my plate.

I have written many short stories and edited many newsletters and society publications. This is the first full-length novel I've attempted, and I hope it won't be the last.

The one lesson I've learned from this is not to trust your characters. They really live. Let me quickly tell you the story of Doris, Jason's Mom. She started life in the first draft as a man. He simply answered the telephone, put the call from Mike through to Ronald McMurtry and exited the story. Then he demanded a larger part. Soon he became Doris, and had a speaking role. When Mike decided he wanted to talk to McMurtry, he went to the office and found Doris. I did not write her into that role, show wrote herself. Mike had to go back, re-write where he bought a bunch of flowers and meet her again. She did appreciate the flowers. After a bit, I found she had a 'son', and the character of Jason was born. He was not in the original draft at all. From that moment on, Jason's own role became central. You've read the result. However, I swear Doris and Jason wrote themselves into the book. It was not my doing.

The characters live. They really do, and they grow with the story. I loved that. You may find some of them re-appear in later books. I have a story to write about Jason, if he'll let me, and by popular demand, there's the life of Tom in 33AD. He has a lot of travel to undertake despite the fact he's an old man.

Connect with Me Online:

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/GoScoutUK

My website: http://guy-singer.com/books

Website for "The Last Generation": http://www.echmoth.com

Email:  Echmoth@hotmail.com

Map of approximate locations mentioned in this book: http://g.co/maps/2kgaz

