The Jesus Germ

by Brett Williams

  ‘Trying to win a maiden’s heart?’

  ‘Bet I’m not the first. Go ahead, open it.’

  Rachel pulled the bow undone and tried to separate the sticky-tape from the paper. Zachary watched her intently. Laughing, she ripped the slim present open like a child on Christmas morning, revealing a DVD. She rotated it in her long fingers until the title was upright. In bold black type on a stark white background it read LISA.

  ‘The name of your last girlfriend?’

  ‘Not exactly, though you could say I’ve devoted a good deal of time to her over the years.’

  ‘Any clues?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Movie?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Concert?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘I need to raid the cellar. Excuse me for a minute. Rachel came back with a bottle of red. She poured two balloons on the travertine sideboard. Zachary took his and inhaled the fruity fumes.

  ‘Smells good.’

  ‘It’s from my father’s vineyard.’

  ‘I mean the food.’

  Rachel cut him a devilish look. ‘I give up.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘Zachary Smith, just tell me who LISA is.’

  ‘Ready?’

  Rachel stared him down. ‘Tell me now or we could be here all night.’

  ‘Okay, here goes.’

  Zachary took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Rachel fluttered her eyes at him, feigning seriousness.

  ‘Lost in Space Anthology, complete with bonus unseen footage and interviews with the cast and crew.’

  Rachel burst out laughing. ‘You really are a fan.’

  ‘Let’s watch an episode after dinner and I’ll bore you with some useless trivia.’ Zachary eyed her, anticipating her response.

  ‘Affirmative,’ Rachel said, marching robot-like toward the wall oven.

  They ate roast lamb and vegetables at the dining table.

  ‘Rachel, tell me about the tree resin in the cube.’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask, Zach. I haven’t told anyone about the results yet. I expected a call from Cardinal Venti but I’ve not spoken to him since the day you both came to the laboratory. Where do you think the resin is from?’

  ‘How many guesses?’

  ‘Just one.’ Rachel frowned, suppressing a smile.

  Zachary pursed his lips, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. ‘Northern Israel. Western edge of the Sea of Galilee, near the modern city of Tiberius: circa 30 AD.’

  Rachel stared at him, open-mouthed.

  ‘Yes, but how did you know?’

  ‘Lucky guess.’

  ‘Spare me. The pollen in the resin is peculiar to a species of pine-tree growing only in a narrow band of forest on the edge of a low mountain range near Tiberius. The area is World Heritage protected. There were also dust particles in the resin at a density suggesting considerable volcanic activity. The only recorded eruption in the area prior to the end of the first century was from the Es Safa basaltic lava field in Syria, more specifically the Tell el Aqzass cone. It blew its top early in 32AD. The other major eruption of that era was Vesuvius in 79AD and although it sent large amounts of debris into the atmosphere throughout Europe and possibly into the Middle East, it was highly sulphuric. The particles in the resin don’t match. The samples I tested were heavily biased in magnesium and calcium oxides, both classic indicators of basaltic rock and its derivatives which match the geology of the Es Safa field.’

  ‘Impressive. Shall we watch the pilot?’

  ‘Don’t you want to know more?’

  ‘Not really, you’ve confirmed my suspicions.’

  ‘You only accepted my dinner invitation to grill me for information?’

  ‘No, I suspected you were a great cook.’

  She blushed at the compliment.

  ‘Zachary Smith, you’re impossible. More wine?’

  As Zachary pushed his glass toward her, he cleared his throat. ‘What can you tell me about the spider?’

  ‘A man from the natural history museum was keen to dissect it but I refused. He did, however, identify it as an extinct venomous tarantula with three sets of retractable fangs set one behind the other. Triplicati Goldenii; commonly known as the Golden Desert Tarantula or simply the Golden Death to those familiar with its fearsome reputation. Howard Carter, of Tutankhamen fame, found a shrivelled specimen preserved in the dry vault of the great Pharaoh’s tomb. A live specimen hasn’t been seen in over two hundred years.’

  ‘Where is your spider now?’

  ‘In the office fridge, next to my stash of chocolates,’ Rachel said, wide-eyed.

  ‘Sense of humour, good cook, connoisseur of fine wine; your attributes are tallying nicely.’ Zachary marked off an imaginary list.

  ‘I’m so glad to have fulfilled your expectations.’ She pulled a funny face at him. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  ‘Take a seat on the sofa, Zach. You might work out how to turn LISA on,’ she said with suggestive sarcasm.

  ‘The lowest form of wit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sarcasm.’

  ‘The lowest form of wit, Mr Smith, but the purest form of retaliation known to woman.’

  Each time she called him Mr Smith, a tingle ran down his spine.

  The coffee’s sweet aroma filled the apartment and he relaxed into the sofa with LISA ready to play. A spindly giraffe carved from ebony, stood in the corner of the room, its red jewelled eyes catching the electric light. It had a quirky artistic bent. Zachary recalled a rare sable giraffe - a dead calf found in the mouth of a cave by Serengeti nomads. Its hide was stitched into a ceremonial cape for their tribal king.

  Rachael’s laptop sat open on the coffee table in the middle of the room. It gonged to life, a giant envelope filling the screen. Zachary punched a key. The screen flashed bright green and a jumble of equally bright pink letters and numbers morphed into a neat line.

  PRIE2T3U4J1.

  They beamed at him for three seconds then dissolved into a million fragments.

  ‘Coffee’s coming,’ Rachel sang out from the kitchen.

  Zachary reclined deep into the sofa as Rachel breezed in with espressos and wedges of mud cake.

  ‘Excuse the laptop.’ She shifted it onto a sideboard beneath the window.

  Zachary rotated the random letters and numbers in his head, trying to bring them to a logical arrangement.

  ‘Okay, I’m ready.’ Rachel sat next to Zachary opposite a large flat-screen television, the gap between them blurred and tension-filled. The Lost in Space theme music introduced the nostalgic first episode, The Reluctant Stowaway. Rachel tucked her arm in Zachary’s as they watched transfixed. When it ended, Zachary spoke to deflect the sudden silence.

  ‘Remember the name of Doctor Smith’s radio contact on Earth?’

  ‘My goodness, Zach, you have devoted too much time to LISA.’ She released her hold on his arm. ‘Port?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  He resumed mental gymnastics with the line of text from the computer screen. After dissecting out the numbers he constructed the only seven letter word possible.

  Jupiter.

  Then he speculated on the relevance of the numbers.

  Rachel sat a little away, facing Zachary. She raised her glass.

  ‘Here’s to nothing in particular.’

  Zachary tapped her glass with his.

  ‘Here’s to the Jupiter 2, may she find her way through the void of space and return safely to planet Earth.’

  Rachel laughed easily, shaking her head in resignation. ‘There’s no hope for you, Mr Smith.’

  ‘Rachel, when did you first meet Cardinal Venti?’

  ‘That day at the lab.’

  ‘What do you make of him?’

  ‘Honestly, he gave me the creeps. He’s friends with the department head for whom I quarantine and forward e-mail from the Vatican.’

  ‘Curiosity ever got the better of you? Vatican
business can be intriguing.’

  ‘I value my job, Zach.’

  ‘No one would know.’

  ‘I know and I’m not interested.’

  Zachary sensed irritation in her voice.

  ‘If you thought I had an unnatural infatuation with a certain television series, I’m not sure I should confide in you about the Cardinal. It may cast aspersions on my sanity and damage your high opinion of me.’

  ‘Who said I had a high opinion of you?’

  Zachary leant back, flexing his forehead, giving a tight-lipped smile.

  ‘Sorry for being presumptuous.’

  ‘What about the Cardinal?’ Rachel said.

  ‘Please don’t think me mad, Rachel.’

  ‘Too late, go on.’

  ‘The Cardinal unlocked the cube and found information relating to a catastrophe, the likes of which humanity has never known. Therefore, any link to him is of interest to me, however tenuous.’

  ‘So, you did come here to prise something from me.’

  ‘Rachel, it’s important I see the e-mails you’ve been collating for your boss.’

  She put down her glass, walked to the window and dragged the laptop off the side board. Two messages awaited her; one from her sister; the other marked high importance was addressed to her boss. It had already been read.

  She scowled at Zachary. ‘I didn’t open that e-mail.’

  ‘Try it again,’ Zachary said.

  Rachel clicked on the screen, sending it blank.

  ‘You are a nosy beaver, Mr Smith.’

  Her formal address now lost its disarming effect on him.

  ‘I apologise, Rachel.’

  ‘What did it say?’ Rachel said.

  ‘Do you have a pen and paper?’

  She took a notepad and pencil from a drawer in the coffee table.

  ‘Your little black book?’

  She fired daggers at him, Zachary realizing it was too soon to expect forgiveness. He wrote down the letters and numbers.

  ‘Mean anything?’

  ‘No’

  ‘What about this?’

  Zachary rearranged the jumbled letters into a seven-letter word, leaving out the numbers.

  ‘Jupiter,’ Rachel said, ‘but what about the numbers?’

  ‘I suspect they form a code. Rachel, can you bring up the old e-mails from your boss’ file?’

  ‘I’ll consider it.’

  Rachel’s anger thawed as excitement stirred deep inside her. She was balanced on the precipice of adventure.

  ‘I’ll take you to dinner tomorrow night, finest restaurant in Rome.’

  Rachel dwelled on the offer far longer than Zachary deemed necessary, but he deserved as much.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  Rachel tapped a key and a long list of e-mails filed down the page. Eleven of them were tagged high importance, all from the same source.

  ‘Try the first one.’

  Rachel opened a two-day-old e-mail with a link to a website.

  ‘Try the link, Rachel,’ Zachary said, impatient to delve through the messages as quickly as possible. Rachel arrived at a page with a narrow box in the centre. Beneath it in lower case was printed enter password.

  ‘Can I try something?’

  ‘Be my guest.’ Rachel slid the computer in front of him.

  Zachary typed so quickly, Rachel couldn’t follow his entries which appeared as a row of eleven black dots in the password box. When Zachary hit the enter key it met with a hollow ring. Access denied flashed red above the box.

  ‘What did you try?’

  ‘Jupiter followed by 1234. As long as it lets me, I’m going to enter new number sequences and hopefully hit the jackpot.’

  ‘I’ll put on more coffee.’ Rachel tended to the brew while Zachary rearranged the numbers, inputting them as quickly as they were rejected. When he’d exhausted all twenty-four combinations of the four numbers, he tried putting them at the front of the word.

  Rachel returned.

  ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Not yet.’ His fingers plied away... 4123Jupiter... after a short pause the screen turned violet.

  ‘Bingo!’ Zach said.

  Rachel sat close to Zachary, clutching her steaming mug, peering intently at the purple page. Text appeared in blocks until the screen was filled with paragraphs. Zachary and Rachel devoured the information in silence.

  The surveillance projects have now reached a definitive stage. In addition to the substantial retainers paid to ensure your continued loyalty, we are offering a significant incentive for the recovery of three new items.

  The search for these items is worldwide in scope. Each of the three is similar in appearance. One was last seen in public in Paris, France in 1792; another was stolen from Cambridge University in the winter of 1831; the third was lost at sea, south of Tahiti in 1835.

  By activating our extensive global contacts and the vast pool of human resources at our disposal, we anticipate exploring every avenue in this quest. We have great confidence in the unique approaches each of you will bring to successfully conclude this assignment.

  To confirm the urgency attached to the mission, a reward of ten million Euros will be paid on delivery of each of the mentioned items via the usual systems.

  Technical information relating to the items you seek can be found by an internet search referencing ‘Trinity Harlequins’. A large volume of data is available at related links that may prove helpful in initiating any leads you might regard as useful.

  To visually clarify the objects you are searching for we have provided a photograph. It is the only one known to exist.

  Please click on the icon below.

  Zachary clicked on the coiled cobra. A full-screen photograph materialized one jigsaw piece at a time, until complete. The sepia image appeared old but it clearly showed a transparent glass block from which stared a frog.

  ‘Ring any bells, Rachel?’

  ‘Not in this tower.’

  Zachary scrolled down the page. The line at the bottom read;

  Fair flight of sailing venom, dear Jupiter.

  ‘Rather cryptic, and there’s the word Jupiter again.’

  ‘Google Trinity Harlequins,’ Rachel said.

  ‘First I want to read the other e-mails.’

  All the e-mails opened to blank pages requiring passwords Zachary couldn’t crack.

  ‘There must be specific codes for each e-mail. Your turn.’ He took a gulp of coffee.

  Rachel turned the laptop to face her, keyed in a search for the frogs that drew a Wikipedia link then sat back with the computer on her lap for Zachary to see. They read the lengthy article together. Zachary’s eyes absorbed each line in half the time it took Rachel. He glanced at his watch just past midnight. When Rachel finished, she took a deep breath.

  ‘Truth is certainly stranger than fiction. I’ve never heard this account.’

  ‘I guess the events surrounding their discovery have faded from memory over the centuries. But if the e-mail is a guide, this site and many others will get more hits than Gangnam Style.’

  ‘Do you think Cardinal Venti is involved?’

  ‘I hope so, Rachel. If the e-mail was generated as a result of what he found inside the cube, I want to be straight on the trail of those ornaments. Whatever their importance; and ten million Euros suggests it is no backyard treasure hunt, the idea of them falling into Venti’s hands frightens me no end.’

  ‘Where will we start?’

  ‘What do you mean, we?’ Zachary said.

  ‘I’m a part of this now, Zachary Smith. Plus, you owe me.’

  ‘How is that?’

  ‘Confidentiality breaches.’

  ‘You could carry my bags, press my clothes and see to some of the mundane duties I find so tiresome.’

  ‘Like organising your funeral,’ Rachel said.

  Zachary returned her obvious displeasure with a bewildered expression, falling back in the sofa with uncontrolled laughter.

  ‘Yo
u’re a beast, Zachary.’

  Rachel leant over him, putting a hand on his forehead, lifting his fringe.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Looking for the mark.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘Perhaps you have it tattooed on your backside?’

  ‘Spare me, Rachel.’

  ‘Those three numbers that prove you are the beast-666- maybe they’re stamped on a less prominent part of your anatomy.’

  She dug him playfully in the ribs as she moved away.

  ‘Okay you’ve passed the preliminary test,’ Zachary said.

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘You are of sufficient fiery disposition to have earned a spot on team Frog Find. Your mission should you decide to accept it...’

  ‘No more clichés, Zachary. Who are the other team members?’

  ‘Isn’t two enough? Some of the great teams in history were but a pair; Napoleon and Josephine; Samson and Delilah; Ren and Stimpy.’

  ‘Zachary, when the moment demands it most there’s not a serious bone in your body. Intuition tells me there’s another involved and I demand you confirm it or I’ll evict you from the couch and banish you to my ...’ Rachel’s brain engaged her mouth before she realised what she’d said.

  Zachary sat smugly as she dissolved in embarrassment but he quickly relieved the situation.

  ‘I have an old friend you may have heard of. He is a priest in the Vatican, curator of religious artefacts for the Holy See. Father Stephen Calmari and I have substantial history together dating back to high school. Our careers diverged in the most contrasting ways but our bond is everlasting.’

  ‘What does he know about the cube?’ Rachel said.

  ‘Everything I do, except this e-mail.’

  ‘Will I get to hear the whole story?’

  ‘It’s only fair.’

  ‘We should meet as soon as possible,’ she said, remembering the news coverage of the mysterious car accident involving Zachary and a priest, but sensing now was not the time to inquire further.

  ‘Then I’ll have the pleasure of your company for breakfast at Cafe Bella Roma at 9 a.m.,’ Zachary said.

  Rachel’s watch read an hour past midnight. ‘Don’t be late,’ she said.

  ‘Won’t you give me a nudge in the morning to wake me from my slumber?’

  Rachel stood, thrusting her hands onto her hips.