BOX SET of THREE TOP 10 MEDICAL THRILLERS

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  They both knew that their lives had changed course that afternoon. Something had happened that they could not walk away from.

  Instinctively Jason knew that his destiny had been laid before him.

  .

  Chapter Eleven

  Professor Wainright stared at him with a look of total astonishment on his face. For the first time since Jason had met him, the Old Prof. was actually speechless.

  For a good few minutes the Professor said nothing. He raised himself carefully out of his seat beside one of the benches in the laboratory and walked slowly towards the window. He looked down into the public park at the back of the I.G.E.G.G.M. laboratory beside the Pitt Rivers museum in the Parks Road in Oxford. It was a Monday afternoon and some children were playing on the swings, and a young father was in the field on the opposite side of the river flying a kite with his small son. Without turning the Professor spoke slowly and sternly.

  “You realise that you can’t tell anyone about this idea, and I mean no one. For Pete’s sake Jason, I sent you away to get some air, to think of an idea for a PhD project. I didn’t expect you to come back with a bloody revelation and a plan to change the world!”

  At first Jason thought the Professor was angry, and he was beginning to wonder if the Professor was going to turn him down. If he did, it wouldn't be for technical reasons. Since returning to Oxford from Paris two weeks before, he had contacted the Professor’s colleagues in the University of Stockholm, and had integrated their recent findings into the new work the Professor had completed in the past few months. He had worked all day and late into the night for ten days straight, before concluding that his idea was sound. In those ten days he had outlined a new genetic process which combined the Stockholm developments with those from Oxford, and all his calculations seemed to confirm his ideas. It should work.

  Then through contacts in the Department of Theology he had confirmed that the Crown of Thorns was indeed still in the vaults of Notre Dame. Even the most respected theologians in Oxford believed that there was every possibility that ‘it’ was real.

  The only problem that remained now was how they were going to get hold of it. That had been a stumbling block for the last few days, but as fate sometimes has a habit of doing, the solution was thrown in front of Jason's face, materialising as if from nowhere.

  In yesterday’s copy of the “ISIS” university magazine, there had been a photograph of a French Priest called Cardinal Laurentin, with the caption underneath running “Christ Church welcomes back a former student!”. In two weeks time there was going to be the Conference of the World Religions taking place at Christ Church College, and religious leaders from all over the world would be attending. Excitedly, Jason went on to read that Cardinal Laurentin, now one of the top Catholic priests in France and responsible for the catholic church in Paris, was a former student at Christ Church and would be attending the conference in two weeks time. Which immediately gave Jason an excellent idea, but while Jason was still rehearsing the next part of his little speech in his mind for the nth time that day, the Professor turned round and looked at Jason with a massive smile on his face.

  “Genius. Genius my boy. Nothing short of pure Genius.” The professor moved slowly towards him, his hand outstretched. “Let me shake your hand, young man. It’s the best idea I’ve heard in years…” the Professor paused and Jason’s heart almost stopped. “..but one which will probably bloody work! Incredible! And the process you outlined is first class stuff...fantastic....we have to patent it immediately...or rather…you should patent it immediately. The new process is your idea lad, and it could just make you a fortune.”

  The Professor was thrilled and pleased. He had always known that Jason had the potential for great things and now he had proved it. Only one month into his DPhil. Jason had come up with a new genetic process that no one had ever thought of before. True, given the new pieces of the jigsaw puzzle someone else would have thought about it in the next year or two, but the fact was that Jason had done it. All by himself. It was maybe even Nobel prize winning stuff.

  And the idea of cloning Jesus Christ himself was a stroke of genius.

  “Incredible...” The Professor shook his head again, moving towards the door and checking that it was securely locked. “Have you told anyone else?” he asked returning to his chair.

  “Just Lydia...” Jason had told Dr Wainright all about Lydia before he went to Paris, and anyway, the Professor had already heard all about the romantic liaison between the two of them from his good friend and partner Dr Simons. He was happy for the boy. It was time that he found someone nice.

  “Ok…we can trust her. Fact is though lad, this idea of yours is dynamite. We must not tell anyone what we are about to do…”the Professor raised his hand to prevent Jason from speaking. “..and yes…before you say anything, we’re going to go for this in a big way…with the full resources of the I.G.E.G.G.M. You’ve sold me. But no one must know about it! If anyone finds out what we’re about to do, there will be hell to pay...”

  “I know Sir, I’ve thought of nothing else for the past two weeks...I know exactly what could happen....We have to do it ourselves and make sure the clone, if we are successful in creating one, will be brought up in a free democratic society, free from government influence. Free from the indoctrination of the Christian Church, or the Jewish faith. Free to be whoever he really is!”

  “You know I used to be a Catholic when I was younger? Still am, I suppose. I tried my best to be good for years. Never thought that I’d be instrumental in the Second Coming though…” The professor’s voice tailed off as he thought for a moment. “Okay, first things first, have you thought how we might get hold of the Crown?”

  “Ahh...well, you see, I have an idea...but I need your help...” Jason started out on his little speech.

  “Anything lad, we’re in this together...it’s your baby, but I’m your backroom partner, if you’ll let me help you?” the Professor waived his hand in front of his face, feigning subservience.

  “Thanks. I’ll need your guidance. You’re the expert. Anyway, you’re on great terms with the Dean of Christ Church…and next week Cardinal Laurentin, one of the highest ranking Catholics in France is coming to Christ Church for the Conference on World Religions. The Crown of Thorns is stored in the vaults of Notre Dame, which is under the direct auspices of the Cardinal. Perhaps you could persuade the Dean to introduce you to him...and then you could volunteer to co-ordinate a scientific authentication of the Crown of Thorns by all the leading labs in Oxford, doing lots of tests on its age …the type of thorns, where they originally came from etc…and then volunteer to write a paper bolstering the importance of the relic, and emphasising the role that Notre Dame has played in its preservation. Heap on the scientific flattery etc."

  "Of course, we don’t tell them why we really want it,…and as soon as we get it over here, we analyse it for blood samples and take any genetic material we can for scientific preservation…and later cloning!”

  “So when does he arrive, this Cardinal of yours?" The Professor smiled and clasped his hands together in anticipation. "I’d better brush up on my French.”

  .

  Chapter Twelve

  Senior Common Room

  Christ Church College,

  Oxford

  .

  Professor Wainright was looking forward to meeting the Cardinal.

  He felt quite sure that the Cardinal would agree to lending them the Crown of Thorns for a few months. In fact, he was very sure.

  When Jason had shown him the photograph of the Cardinal from the ISIS newspaper, his face had been very familiar. For the rest of the day it had troubled him. And then he had remembered.

  Cardinal Laurentin had been a freshman when Wainright had first come to Oxford as a Don, and Wainright had been his tutor for two semesters. It had been twenty years ago, but once he had remembered, it all came back.

  The whole thing.

  Yes, Wainright felt sure the
Cardinal would agree…to anything he asked.

  .

  ---------------------

  .

  On the evening of the first day of the conference the Dean of Christ Church held an ecumenical mass in the Cathedral for those who wanted to attend, followed by a welcome dinner in the Great Hall for all the attendees.

  It was a grand affair. Christ Church always excelled at such things, and tonight the College was honoured by the presence of King Harry of Great Britain himself, his visit being only the second time the King had attended the college since commencing his reign after the death of his brother to the SARs 2 virus.

  When Wainright had called the Dean and requested to meet the Cardinal, his old friend had immediately agreed to set it up. He’d told the Dean of his plan to authenticate the Crown,… naturally missing out any details about his ulterior motive…, and the Dean had been excited about the whole thing. It was, as he described it ‘a jolly good idea!’.

  "Glad to help, old boy. Unfortunately the dinner in Hall is full, but I can invite you to the Senior Common Room afterwards for Port and Cigars? I'll see you at 8.30pm then?"

  .

  ---------------------

  .

  The Professor had just lit up his cigar and emptied his second glass of Port, when he spotted the Dean making his way through the throng towards him.

  “...and this, my dear Cardinal, is Professor Wainright, one of the leading biologists and geneticists in the world. A Nobel prize winner no less!...” The Dean announced, having successfully steered the Cardinal by the arm around the Senior Common Room and introducing him to several colleagues en-route before finally ending up at the Professor.

  “It is an honour, Professor. I have read of your work and know of your Nobel award. It was richly deserved for your services to humanity!” the Cardinal bowed his head lightly as a mark of respect, offering his hand loosely to the Professor.

  “Welcome back to the House, Cardinal Laurentin. I hope it brings back some pleasant memories for you.” It was only for a second, but as the Cardinal looked at the Professor, Professor Wainright saw a momentary flicker of recognition in the Cardinal's eyes, before he quickly hid it away. The Cardinal had obviously remembered him, but clearly wasn’t going to admit it.

  “Oh yes…it is very pleasant to walk around the college once more. It seems so long ago...but the memories are so strong...”

  “Oh, Rabbi Ben-Israel!..., excuse me please Gentlemen...” said the Dean, waiving at someone and politely making an exit.

  Wainright immediately took over from the Dean, touching the Cardinal’s elbow lightly and guiding him to a corner of the room.

  “I’m glad the Dean has introduced us, Cardinal Laurentin…I would like to discuss something with you that could be of particular interest to the Catholic Church…”

  As they sat down in the deep leather armchairs in a corner out of earshot of the other guests, the Professor swept two fresh glasses of Port from the tray of a passing waiter and offered one to the Cardinal.

  “…You see, one of my graduate students is about to start his DPhil under my supervision, and he has suggested that he could write his dissertation on the modern application of biological, genetic and physical sciences to the verification of ancient religious relics. He was in Paris a few weeks ago and by chance he learned about the Crowns of Thorns during a tour of the city. From the research he has done, it would appear that the Crown is currently under safekeeping in the vaults of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. He has discussed his proposal with the university...well, myself really...and he has suggested that he would very much like to base his DPhil work on the Crown of Thorns.” The Professor stopped to take a sip of Port, smiling at the Cardinal as he did so. The Cardinal had cocked his head to one side, listening attentively to the Professor’s proposal.

  “Do continue Professor...”

  “Thank you...you see, I think this is a very fortuitous meeting, perhaps more than coincidental...but since I heard you would be coming I have given the project a lot of thought and I am very excited about the proposal. Imagine…just think what a stir it would cause in the world if we could prove, well… if we could scientifically authenticate the Crown of Thorns as an object that comes from the time of Christ, and which was present in Jerusalem at the time of Christ’s death…The renewed interest in the Church would be huge! It would cause a reawakening in Catholicism....a resurgence of the Faith...It’s a fantastic opportunity to put the French Catholic Church right at the forefront of every believer’s mind…Notre Dame would become the most popular church in the world!…Can you see it?” the Professor sounded very convincing.

  “Indeed I can, my Professor, but you see, it would be extremely unusual for the Crown of Thorns to leave France. Extremely unusual. It would need direct authorisation from myself to achieve it...”

  “Exactly...and that’s why I think it is perhaps even divine intervention that we are meeting by chance here tonight…I think it’s ordained to happen…” The Professor took another sip of Port. “I’m a catholic too, and if you can help it happen for me, this would be the most exciting piece of research I will have been involved in for years. And of course, can you imagine how pleased the Pope will be once it is announced to the world? I'm sure that it will bring you a lot of credit!”

  “I am sorry, Professor, but there is also a risk to your proposal. What if you were to discover that it was not authentic?”

  The Professor had thought of that one in advance. It was crucial that the Crown of Thorns should be verified as being authentic. If blood was to be found on the thorns, they had to be sure that there was a genuine chance of it being Christ’s blood before they could proceed with any further research. If carbon-dating, or comparing pollen samples, or any of a myriad of other tests showed that it wasn’t old enough, or that it didn’t come from the correct geographic area, then it wouldn’t be worthwhile proceeding. On the other hand…if the tests came back positive...

  “Let’s not focus on that, but just in case, I would suggest that you simply do not tell anyone of the research before the results are known. For that reason I would like to suggest that we borrow the Crown from Notre Dame in relative secrecy, and only announce the findings IF they show it to be real..”

  “Which they will…” the Cardinal nodded.

  "Which it will…" the Professor smiled in agreement.

  It was a good suggestion. In fact a very good one. It would suit everyone concerned if they kept the whole project as quiet as possible. The Professor didn’t want to draw any attention to the presence of the Crown in his laboratory in Oxford, just in case another geneticist somewhere else put two and two together and guessed what they were up to.

  “It is a sensible suggestion” The Cardinal nodded… “but I’m afraid I still can’t agree to it. Excellent idea that it is. You would first need to try harder to persuade me of the benefits of this research to the Church...”

  For a moment they both sat in silence, each thinking their own thoughts.

  The Professor was hesitant to commit himself, but the stakes were so high that failure was not acceptable.

  The Cardinal had to be made to agree.

  “My dear Cardinal, I hear from my learned colleagues in Oxford that you are well liked in the Church. One even suggested that you would be looked upon with favour for succession to...well, should we say that if Pope James was to die, you would be a popular choice to replace him. It's no great secret that his health has not been too good recently. Would such positive publicity from your diocese not help you, I wonder, in the choice of a successor, should we verify the authenticity of the Crown?”

  “Indeed it would, but...” The Cardinal tried to reply but was cut short by the Professor, who looked briefly around him and then leaned forward in his chair, committing himself completely.

  “You have come a long way Pierre… a long way since you were a student in my tutorial class at the college.” The Professor saw a flicker of panic in the Cardin
al’s eyes as he realised he had been recognised by the Professor,...in spite of his flowing robes and his much rounder physique and having put on a lot of weight since his student days. The Professor continued. “I am an old man now Pierre, and I am proud of the achievements of my students. I am happy that you have successfully put the scandal of your youth behind you now, and that none of your colleagues would seem to know of the work you and your partner David performed for the gay rights movement in the nineties. I’m glad, because I would be very sad if the misdemeanours of your youth...should they be known nowadays...were to so negatively affect your hopes and chances of becoming the next Pope...By the way, how is David nowadays?” the Professor asked innocently. The implication was clear.

  It was a threat. A threat, loud and clear.

  The Cardinal said nothing, the smile temporarily wiped from his face.

  “Would you like another glass of Port, Cardinal Laurentin?” The Professor asked.

  “No thank you, Professor…”He replied, pausing for a few minutes longer before continuing. “With regard to the matter we were discussing a moment ago...It has just occurred to me, that perhaps there would be a great deal of benefit to the Church if I were to authorise your suggested research on the authenticity of the Crown of Thorns. It is a brilliant suggestion Professor. I’ll have my assistant call you tomorrow to discuss the details....now if you will excuse me, I’m afraid I shall have to leave now. I feel very tired and I still have rather a lot of paperwork to catch up on this evening...”

  The Cardinal got up to go, not offering to shake the Professor’s hand. After a few steps towards the nearest door, he turned back towards the Professor.

  “About that other matter…" he said quietly.

  “And what matter was that? I seem to have forgotten the conversation. It seems that I too must be tired.” The Professor replied.