BOX SET of THREE TOP 10 MEDICAL THRILLERS

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  The Professor left it five minutes then called back. The phone was picked up on the third ring.

  “Hi…it’s Don.”

  “Hullo Don. How are you?”

  “Fine. Listen, where is everyone this morning? Is there a public holiday today or has everyone come down with food poisoning from last night…I’m the only one here!”

  “So Jason isn’t there either?” A touch of concern finding its way into the Professor’s voice. Jason hadn’t taken a day off sick in the past three years. He was the most dedicated worker he had ever had.

  “No…and he didn’t call in sick either. Neither did Louisa. Is there something wrong?”

  “Yes, you could say that Don. Listen, I don’t have much time so just listen for a while if you will. Louisa’s ex-boyfriend Mike and some unknown man were involved in a shoot-out at six o’clock this morning in front of her house. Mike died trying to save Louisa’s life, but before he died he managed to kill the other guy too. The whole thing's a bloody mess.”

  “Shit. Was Louisa hurt?”

  “No, but listen. The other guy was trying to kill Louisa, not Mike. The big question is why? And that’s what the police want to know too. There’s going to be a lot of questions asked, and we have to keep the truth behind the Haissem project from them. No one must find out about it, so this is what we’re going to do…"

  "…We’re going to lie through our teeth. All of us. From now on the story is that the Haissem project finished a few weeks ago, and for the past few weeks we've moved on to new projects.”

  “But why lie?”

  “Think about it Don. We have to protect the clone of Jesus Christ. We’re not playing games here. It’s our responsibility now to protect the unborn child and ensure he has a normal and safe upbringing. You more than anyone should realise that…I’ve noticed the way you look at Maria…No, don’t worry about it boy, I totally approve, I think it's brilliant…and I’ve got a gut feeling that you’re going to be playing a bigger part in the upbringing of Maria's baby than Jason or I...”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “In short…yes! Anyway listen to me, and just shut up, will you…the police could come back at any moment. This is really Jason's idea, but I was against it...never really thought things were going to get this serious. I was a fool...anyway, I want you to take all the files on the Haissem project and put them in my secret safe, and lock them away...” The Professor divulged to Don the existence and location of a secret safe in the lab, sharing with him the security codes. “…and then when you have done that, you have to find Jason and tell him we all agree to the cover story. And then go round to Maria and tell her. The Haissem project is officially closed for now, and for the record we only ever succeeded in identifying one type of blood, the A-blood. And we only ever made one cloned embryo...from the A-type blood. The G-clone never happened, okay? We’ve done our part for now. Maria’s child will be allowed to grow up normally and anonymously, and left to find his own identity.”

  “But what about our records, our notes? They all mention the G-clone?"

  "Starting tomorrow, we rewrite them. Make new records."

  "Falsify them?"

  "Yes."

  "All of them?"

  "Yes, it'll only take a few days if we work hard on it. And I believe Jason has already rewritten most of his. It was his idea."

  There was a few minutes silence on the other end of the phone, then Don came back.

  "So what’s our cover story? I mean, we'll have to make up some reason why someone was out to kill Louisa.”

  “…that Mike was Louisa’s boyfriend. Louisa found out that Mike was a secret agent for the CIA. Mike was ordered to kill her and probably us too because we all knew about him and his cover had been blown, but he refused, so they sent a hit man to kill us. He died trying to save Louisa.”

  “Sounds plausible.”

  “It is plausible. And it's up to us to make it sound plausible...Except that I think the real reason the hit man was sent to kill us all was because of the Haissem project. The Americans will have their own Haissem project by now, and I bet you that Mike was ordered to kill us all, to wipe out the competition, and to stop us from cloning Christ before they do.”

  “Oh no…Jason!” Don suddenly realised that if that was the case, Jason would be the prime target, and that he hadn't turned up at the lab yet!

  “Jason?...Shit, ...your right...you right!....Drop everything. Get round to his place immediately. Leave now...and if he’s not there, check the hospitals!”

  .

  ---------------------

  11.00am

  .

  Don parked his car about a hundred yards up the road from Jason’s house. He was getting increasingly worried about Jason. He hadn’t answered his phone, and Don had been calling him constantly for the past twenty minutes. Jason’s telephone 'Follow Me' service said that only his home phone was enabled, and that his mobile phone was switched off. That was unusual for Jason. He never switched his phone off, but always diverted it to the nearest phone wherever he was, or to his personal voice answering service if he was busy working in the lab. Something was up. Something serious.

  He stood for ten minutes outside the entrance to his house, ringing the doorbell and waiting for an answer. He looked through the post box a few times and was alarmed to see that the morning’s mail was still on the floor, and that the morning’s milk was still on the doorstep.

  Getting no answer from the front of the house, Don decided that he would have to let himself in. He walked round the back of the house, walked up the lane that ran parallel with the main street in between the rows of houses, and climbed the gate into Jason’s garden. Don had been round to Jason’s house thousands of times before, and he knew where he hid the spare key for the back door. Thankfully it was still there, and as he let himself into the house a feeling of dread overcame him. The house was deathly still, except for the sound of the cistern running continuously. He called Jason’s name as he entered the kitchen at the back of the house, and made his way into the hall.

  “Jason…are you there? It’s me! Don! Are you ok? Are you here?”

  There was no one in the front room. Or in the bathroom at the top of the stairs.

  “Jason...?”

  He pushed open the door to the backroom at the top of the stairs and peered inside. There was no one there.

  “He must be still be asleep in his bedroom, sleeping off his hangover,” Don thought to himself.

  “Jason, it’s me...I’m coming in...”

  Don walked quietly towards the bedroom, not wanting to wake Jason too quickly and frighten him if he was still asleep. He pushed the door gently open and stepped inside.

  For a few seconds Don stood in the doorway staring down at Jason’s body on the bed, before he was overcome with nausea and he ran to the bathroom and threw up into the toilet.

  Don cowered on the bathroom floor, shaking and more scared than he had ever been in his life before. It took all his resolve to slowly stand up and walk through to the bedroom and stand beside Jason. Don had only ever seen one dead body before, and that had been in a hospital. He fought back the bile in the back of his throat and pulled the bed cover over Jason’s inert body, covering his lifeless face and the massive holes in the side of his chest. Suddenly Don felt weak. He had to sit down again. Slowly, and very unsteady on his feet, Don found his way downstairs to the sofa in the front room, where he sat down and tried to clear his mind. In truth, Don hadn’t go the faintest idea what to do. He was shaken, shocked, and very sad. Only now did it begin to hit him that he had lost his best friend...Jason was dead.

  “Why God...Why?” Don asked aloud. “If it wasn’t for him...”

  How long Don sat there alone he didn’t know. Time just seemed to stand still, and Don was lost in his own thoughts.

  There was a loud click, and the sound of the front door of the house opening. Only slowly did Don become aware of another presence in the room, and when
eventually he raised his head and looked up at the stranger, it was with unseeing eyes that he saw Patrick, the MI5 agent, standing before him.

  "What's going on? Where's Jason?" The MI5 agent asked, panting hard as if he had been running.

  Don responded quietly to the question, not noticing the dull black gun in the agent's hand, or wondering if perhaps it could have been the MI5 agent who had killed Jason.

  "He's upstairs…in his bedroom...he's dead."

  A second agent came into the room behind Patrick, standing quietly beside Don as Patrick ran up the stairs into Jason's bedroom. A few minutes later Patrick returned, speaking loudly into the mobile phone sewn into the lapel of his jacket.

  Dimly Don realised that the second agent had left the room, and that Patrick had sat down beside him on the couch.

  "Don…", Patrick spoke, genuine sympathy almost showing in his voice, " I'm sorry. We got here too late. We picked up the transmissions from the police at Louisa's house and realised that something was badly wrong, probably an American assassination squad. We guessed that you and Jason and the Professors would also be targets and we got here as soon as we could…but too late to help Jason. I'm sorry."

  Don was in shock now, and spoke without realising what he was saying.

  "Why Jason? It's not fair...the whole Haissem project was his idea…it was his idea to clone Jesus Christ! Why did God let him die? Why him?"

  Patrick didn't reply. He wanted to let Don speak. This was his chance to get some useful information. Don stood up and stamped over to the window, turning abruptly to shout at the MI5 agent.

  "So where the hell where you guys? Some guardian angel you turned out to be!"

  "Don..."Patrick tried to speak, but already Don's anger had moved on.

  "...Why did God let him die? I thought we were all on his side…carrying out his divine work? So why didn't God protect us and let the good guys live and the bad guys die?"

  Don stared at the MI5 agent for a while, a mixture of sadness, anger and confusion showing in his eyes, then without warning he crossed the room and pushed past the other agent guarding the doorway and ran out into the street outside. For a second Patrick thought about following him, to see that he was okay, but instead he decided to search the house and see if there was any useful information they could pick up before the police arrived. They would only have a few minutes. He would start with Jason's study.

  .

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  The White House, Washington D.C.

  Monday 19th Dec 2.30 p.m.

  .

  The news was not good. The President was in a foul mood, and by the time Tim reached the Oval Office, two people had already been sent out, their careers in tatters. Tim smiled at the President’s Personal Secretary, and she ushered him straight in.

  “Good luck, Mr Curts…you’ll need it.”

  The President was pacing the office in front of his desk. A pile of empty coffee cups littered the table, and the room was full of cigar smoke. His face was red with rage.

  “Tim…what the hell’s going on? All hell’s broken loose. That was the bloody British Prime Minister on the phone, demanding an immediate international apology and reparations. And, they want us to free three of their agents we have in jail and drop the death penalty on five UK citizens on death row. Otherwise, they're going to take it before the UN Security Council, and ask for international sanctions. Hell’s teeth, we’re in the shit! What the fuck went wrong?”

  The last time Tim had been in his office he had been offered the best reserve whisky and a comfortable chair. This time the President was after his blood, and all because he had insisted on going against the advice Tim had given him.

  “If you may recall, Mr President, I did advise you against trying to assassinate the Oxford team. But on your insistence we carried out your orders as instructed.”

  Tim hesitated a second, waiting for the President’s wrath to descend upon him. For a second the President looked slightly embarrassed and said nothing.

  “As you know the situation does not look good. The agent we sent in to complete the job killed the leading member of the Haissem team, Jason Dyke, then, while trying to assassinate a second member of the team, ended up in a gun battle with our agent who was permanently stationed in Oxford. We knew that the Oxford agent claimed he had fallen in love with his deep contact in the Haissem team, but no one could have anticipated that he would be prepared to die for her…”

  “... Unfortunately, the police in England recovered the briefing document that our assassin had been issued from the embassy, and it contained documents on all the Haissem team, and our Oxford agent. Thankfully there was nothing there to link him directly with America or us, and it’s only the word of the Haissem team against ours. They say that Louisa, our Oxford agent’s contact in the Haissem team, had been warned by our Oxford agent that her life was in danger. They knew he was a American agent and have told the police that because they knew who our Oxford agent really was, that we had sent in an assassin to kill the whole team. For some reason they have made no mention of the Haissem project, or of the fact that we have the Crown of Thorns. They’re keeping that completely quiet.”

  “Good. We don’t want that to get out.” the President nodded, relieved that there was at least one piece of good news.

  “Sir, the fact is that we can completely deny their allegations. Unless the British can prove that our assassin was one of our agents, or that our Oxford agent actually worked for us, then as far as we’re concerned we’re in the clear and the whole thing had nothing to do with us...”

  “… Although we can’t admit that we know that files of the whole Haissem team were found in the assassin’s hotel room, we could argue that the whole incident seems to be either a feud between rival lovers, or that the assassin belonged to a militant ante-genetics movement, of which several are known to have made death threats to leading geneticists. Only last year, our best Geneticist was blown up in a car bomb in New York…and the Coalition for the Natural Way claimed responsibility. I was thinking that perhaps we could agree to co-operate with the British in hunting down the ‘terrible people’ who were behind this, and then create a false identity for the assassin, proving links between him and the Coalition for the Natural Way…”

  “... Shift the blame on to them, and get international backing to track them down and bring them to justice. We also then stress that we want to work more closely with the British, and we want to take this opportunity of international misunderstanding to improve our relationship. We start by making a gesture of goodwill by freeing some of their people, and inviting the UK Prime Minister to America for a summit on improving trade between our two countries. If we approach this whole thing positively, we could turn it round to our advantage!” Tim concluded.

  The President stared at Tim, amazed at how in a few minutes Tim was able to come up with a solution which may be workable. The rage visibly disappeared from his face, and normal colour began to return to his cheeks.

  “Fantastic Tim. We’ll go with that for now. I want to call the Prime Minister back before he drinks too much English beer this evening and gets even more unreasonable!”

  “If you have a moment, Sir, there are a few other points that I think we should discuss...”

  “Certainly. Take a seat.” Things had become more relaxed.

  “The fact that the Oxford team have not mentioned the Haissem project is a little bit worrying. It either means that they have abandoned it, have completed it, or are keeping it completely under wraps. Or they’re struggling. We have no information either way. As you know, we’ve been unable to pick up any information at all concerning the project via electronic surveillance. We are still operating blind in that respect.”

  “So, what’s your point?”

  “My point is sir, that I think we should bring our version of the Haissem project forward. I talked to Vale earlier today, and they are in fact all ready to proceed to the next stage. If you were to a
gree, we could proceed immediately.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means that we have to get Clara out to Vale as soon as possible...tomorrow, if she can manage it. We also need your final approval for the process to go ahead. I would suggest you make arrangements to visit Vale with myself and Clara tomorrow. Oh, by the way, I am able to report to you that the list of names ‘for the wedding’ that you provided me with have all ‘received their invitations’.” Tim was careful not to mention directly that all the people on the list had been killed. For obvious reasons it was standard policy not to mention any incriminating evidence in the President’s office, unless a full surveillance sweep had been conducted. Tim, as Security Advisor, was only too aware of this. The President nodded his understanding of the hidden meaning behind what Tim was telling him.

  “Good job. Well done, and talking of weddings, have you fixed a wedding date for me yet?”

  “Of course, if we move the schedule up, it alters our previous plans, but why not get married just after Christmas, say the 29th or 30th of December and honeymoon in the Caribbean?”

  “I’ll discuss it with Clara, and see what she says…but I like the sound of it! Have you arranged a new identity for Clara?”

  “It’s all taken care of sir. If you wish, Clara could fly out to Vale tomorrow, and come back with a new identity. We just need you to approve it. I’ll drop by your office later and give you a full update on her new identity.”

  “Is there anything else, Tim?”

  “One more thing. Yesterday I sent you over a copy of the press release that the Vatican issued on the ‘False Comet’…did you get a chance to read it yet?”

  “No…not yet…”

  “Pope Peter did as was requested. This time. He only agreed to issue the Press Release and support it in exchange for the file we had on him...the one with the original photographs of him and his ‘boyfriend’ at Oxford. I refused, then we negotiated and in the end we settled for half the file and half the photographs. We’ll get one more favour out of him in the future, and he’ll get the rest then. Then he’ll be a free man. In future I don’t think it will be so easy to persuade him to do anything for us. Now he’s Pope, Cardinal Laurentin has more power than before and he knows it! We have to realise that in a way, the Catholic Church has more influence than America...and apart from not having an army and weapons of mass destruction, they are actually more powerful than us...”