Twisted Linen (6 page)

The woman whimpers behind her gag as she
struggles against her restraints, terrified by the sight of Baculo.
The fear in her eyes makes one thing obvious: Magick has visited
her before.

* * *

14

It’s Just
Science

Simon and Grace sit aboard the Vatican’s
Gulfstream jet, en route to San Sebastian. The whirr of the jet
engines fills the main cabin while hidden in the far back, behind a
locked door, Genovi wrestles to get comfortable in his private
cabin.

Grace works diligently, trying to configure
her laptop to connect with a camera concealed in a pair of
eyeglasses.

Simon sits across the aisle, reading from the
Bible. Grace looks over and sees an intense look on his face. Simon
is reading from Revelation, Chapter 21, it is entitled
The New
Jerusalem.

“I haven't seen you with a Bible in a while,”
Grace says.

“Huh? Oh, it's Genovi's. He must have left
it.”

Simon exhales with a deep sigh, trying to
expel some stress.

Grace senses his tension and inquires,
“What's going on?”

“I've got a really bad feeling about
this.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Grace asks
with noticeable tension in her voice.

“Genovi mentioned the real Shroud isn't in
Turin. He's the only one who knows where it is. It can't be a
coincidence that you and I were engaged to steal it.”

Grace looks away and thinks about this for a
moment. “It’s not a coincidence,” she says turning back toward
Simon. “Our clients are well-connected. They’re able to find the
right people, people who have access to what they want, and then
they pay them off.”

“Listen Grace, these clients are not the
‘elite.’ These people are the occult.”

“A cult? Did Dad tell you this?”

“It’s called the Golden Dawn, and I think
they want to genetically engineer a clone of Jesus Christ.”

Grace’s head tilts and her brow furrows in
shock.

“A clone? Like a sheep?” she asks with raised
eyebrows.

“Science is beyond that. They want another
Jesus Christ.”

Grace glares with a look of absurdity and
asserts, “A cult can’t bring Jesus back with blood rituals.”

“I know it doesn’t seem probable, but it’s
not impossible…not with today’s technology. Not if it’s really
Jesus’ DNA on the Shroud of Turin.”

Grace is intrigued and pries for more
information. “You think this cloth really holds the blood of
Jesus?”

“Well, science confirmed the stains on the
Shroud are the blood of a man, and the Shroud’s twisted linen
matches the type used to create burial cloths in Jesus’ day. Plus,
the miraculous image on the Shroud indicates that it covered a man
who was crucified. There have been no other burial shrouds in
history that have an image like this. So yes, I think it’s Jesus’
blood on the Shroud of Turin.”

Simon’s conviction worries Grace. Simon also
knows the best minds in science studied and authenticated the
Shroud with over nine different types of analyses. It had been
Genovi who explained which major institutions were involved in the
research: the likes of Los Alamos, New England Institute of
Medicine, U.S. Air Force, the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and
others.

After listening intently, Grace nods, then
looks away, trying to digest the reality of this revelation.

Simon and Grace know that geneticists have
been manipulating DNA for disease cures and tissue regeneration for
years. And for decades they have been perfecting the science of
cloning. They realize that if the Golden Dawn has access to the
latest therapeutic nanotechnologies, and they have a capable and
willing scientist, they’ll try to fertilize a woman’s egg with the
seed of Jesus Christ.

Grace mumbles, almost to herself, “So a cult
might actually try to clone Him.”

* * *

15

Clean Yourself
Up

The soft whirr of lab equipment hum in the
air while an unknown scientist sits with his eyes glued to an
electron microscope. He is working under great distress and against
his will, evident by the sweat-beads peppering his furrowed
forehead. A bead of sweat breaks free and skirts beside his brow
and down his cheek. He quickly lifts his head from the microscope
and wipes it away with his lab coat, and then adjusts the settings
on a nearby blood separating device. Lying next to the whirring
blood separator is an empty vial of blood labeled: Cohen.

The scientist is an expert in the field of
epigenetics for medicinal application – it’s the practice of
changing a gene’s expression for a healing purpose. It is ironic
that the scientist is being forced to exploit dual-coding genes
because this genetic feature was conveniently ignored in a recent
journal paper authored by the scientist. He ignored it because it
directly contradicts the theory of natural selection and evolution.
The scientist wasn’t alone in his selective reasoning – following
the ENCODE II study, most scientists chose to ignore the
implications that dual-coding genes has on evolutionary theories
because the trait should have never evolved if natural selection
actually took place. But now, in his dungeon cell, the scientist is
being forced to utilize this very genetic trait to accomplish an
ominous task: combine dual-coding features with DNA sequence
manipulation using a novel technique called “molecular scissors.”
This technique makes genome editing with engineered nucleases
(GEEN) feasible, but the task is tedious and difficult under these
stressful conditions.

As the blood separating device spins, the
scientist whispers to himself, “Please synthesize ... please.”

At that moment, a distant sound from deep
down the corridor hall startles the scientist. He snaps his head
around to look over his shoulder. He’s trying to discern the origin
of the sound, but he has no option of investigating. He’s locked
inside this room, assigned to do an insidious task or pay the
ultimate price. Ominous words echo in the scientist’s mind,
I’m
personally looking after her.

In a small but hopeful voice, he whispers his
wife's name, “Heran?”

Farther down the corridor hall, out of sight
from the working scientist, a door opens with a familiar unlatching
sound. It’s Baculo preparing to exit the cell he entered earlier.
He’s still hooded and part of his face is hidden by a shadow.
Before exiting he leans to his right, reaching for a switch on the
interior of the cell wall.

In the background, over Baculo’s shoulder,
hangs the captive female. She still hangs in the “X” position, but
there is now blood trickling down her legs. The blood originates
from her waist area and terminates in a messy pool on the floor
below her feet. It is not apparent what has been done to her, but
it's very disturbing.

Baculo’s face reappears from behind the wall.
His mouth, chin, neck, and all down the front of his robe are
covered with crimson blood. Like a feasting lion, Baculo licks at
the blood with a slow swipe of the tongue.

In a heartless act Baculo swipes his hand
down over a switch and releases the pulley system. A massive
unlatching sound follows and chains start running free while the
hanging female drops to the cold floor in a heap. The chains
holding her arms and legs are slack, and she frantically squirms
into the fetal position.

Baculo looks back over his shoulder with a
snarl, and coldly commands, “Clean yourself up.”

* * *

16

Let’s Run

Grace sits close to Simon aboard the
Gulfstream, nervously biting her lip, waiting for Simon to clarify
the situation.

“Genovi appears very concerned about this
cult,” Simon states with grave sincerity. “And I’m sure he’s not
telling me everything.” He says these last words with
conviction.

Grace is spooked and a bit fidgety as she
stands and walks forward in the cabin. While Simon ponders what
this cult might do with the Shroud, Grace concerns herself with how
it might put them at risk.

“And they'll force a woman to birth such a
thing?” she inquires.

Simon nods. Grace was hoping that wouldn’t be
his response. “Simon, you’re scaring me,” she says with a slight
tremble in her voice. “Maybe we should run?”

Simon is caught off guard and surprised with
that comment. “Run?” he asks for confirmation.

“Yes, run with their down payment. Listen, go
to the meeting tonight and accept the job. I'll confirm their down
payment clears our bank account, then we disappear.”

“Grace, Genovi can't do this without me!”

Grace senses the need to convince Simon. He
must understand why her plan makes sense.

“You’re going to wear these spycam glasses.
We’ll use them to get a facial-recognition ID on this ‘Baculo.’
I’ll run it through the intelligence database and find out who he
really is.”

Simon stares back at Grace, one eye slightly
squinting.

“What’s that look?” Grace asks. “This should
be all Dad needs to track Baculo from here.”

“I can’t abandon your Dad,” Simon
counters.

“Your instincts about this cult are right,”
Grace pleads. “You’ve convinced me…they’re too dangerous. After
tonight, we’re out. It’s just not worth it.”

Simon swallows hard, feeling the weight of
this dilemma and not sure what to do. He knows that Grace could be
right but he’s never let Genovi down before. And he owes him.

Grace is determined, refusing to relent.

“I can't lose you Simon…please think this
through.”

Then she reaches toward her laptop and
unplugs the spycam glasses. “Look, these will work great!” she
exclaims.

With the spy glasses in hand, Grace swings
her leg over Simon’s lap, straddling him in the seat.

“Here…let’s try on your new glasses, Agent
LaCroix.”

Grace wiggles her hips, trying to get Simon
to relax.

“Relax…let me do my thing,” she urges before
gently sliding the glasses behind Simon’s ears and onto his nose.
After a touch-tap adjustment of the glasses, her fingers linger by
his ears, and she begins massaging Simon’s temples.

Simon slowly closes his eyes and leans his
head back into the seat. “Hmmm, that feels good.”

“This relaxes you?” she asks tenderly.

“Yeah…a little.”

“You look very handsome in these glasses,”
Grace seductively adds.

“Do I?” he musters as a response.

Grace makes a small adjustment to Simon’s
shirt collar, and then runs her palms down his chest. Simon’s eyes
open and he gazes into hers. Simon loves her pale brown eyes; they
are truly unforgettable.

Grace nods slowly and says, “I need you
completely relaxed and focused for this meeting.”

“Do you?” Simon asks with anticipation.

Grace’s eyes remain fixed on Simon’s as her
lips fall open slightly. She slowly pulls the hair band from her
ponytail, releasing her long hair.

“Ummhmm,” she murmurs as she swings her hair
free with a few turns of her head.

Grace runs her hands through the entire
length of her hair. Simon loves when she does that, and Grace knows
it. Simon coolly admires her movements, sinking farther into his
chair. As Grace bends forward into Simon, her hair falls forward
over each shoulder, gently touching Simon’s face.

“I may never have you all to myself on a
private jet again,” she whispers.

“You may not,” Simon whispers back.

Grace slowly looks around the jet cabin,
taking it all in.

“What’s back there?” she asks with a nod
toward Genovi’s cabin door.

Simon strains to look back.

“It’s a place to get horizontal…but it’s
reserved for your Dad.”

Grace makes a funny-sad pouting face; Simon
loves that look she gives.

“Want me to pick the lock?” he jests.

Grace puts an end to their silly
foreplay.

“No, I think I’m satisfied in this
position…for now.”

“I love when you are satisfied,” Simon
affirms.

Grace moves in for the most passionate kiss
yet. Their intimate moment would be one of those perfectly
spontaneous horizontal refreshments, in an unsuspecting place, if
it were not for that private cabin in the back.

Lying stiff on his back, Genovi glares
straight up at the ceiling. He turns to look out the window,
searching for a distraction. Nothing but the full moon glares back
at him. He quickly pulls the pillow from behind his head and
smothers it over his face, pressing it firmly down with both arms
while his rigid legs stick straight out in front of him. This
wasn’t part of his plan.

* * *

17

San Sebastian

As the jet makes its final approach into San
Sebastian, Simon looks intently out the window. He understands
situational awareness; it is a critical success factor in any
engagement. True awareness requires calm observation, and there is
no better vantage point than having eyes in the sky.

The view offers a panoramic perspective of
the horseshoe bay, its pristine waters, and the historic Spanish
architecture. It’s a picture to behold glistening under the
moon-lit sky. The seaside city is connected by a labyrinth of
narrow, winding cobbled streets. Simon spots the train station on
the edge of town, just off the coast line. Off to the right side of
the bay sits Urgull Hill, rising high over the city. At its peak
stands the ancient ruins of a castle that later served as a
Christian church. There a twelve meter high sculpture of Jesus
Christ stands with a palm peacefully extended outward; Jesus
eternally holds the bold pose like He’s watching and protecting the
city of San Sebastian below.