The Messiah Conspiracy - A gripping page-turning Medical Thriller - [Omnibus Edition containing Book 1 & Book 2]

by Irvine, Ian C. P.

  “How can this be”, Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”

  The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God....”

  As the mayor completed the reading and returned to his seat in the front pew, the words echoed repeatedly in Don’s mind, each time becoming louder in volume and the smile on his face becoming broader and happier.

  “God sent the angel…to a virgin…to a VIRGIN…to a VIRGIN named Mary!”

  .

  Chapter Fifty

  Washington D.C.

  Wednesday 7th Dec 9.00am

  .

  In general, President Jamieson wasn’t the marrying type. A bachelor through and through the concept of marriage had been an obscure one which he had so far succeeded in avoiding. But last night the President had dreamt for the first time in his life that he’d got married. If that hadn’t been strange enough in itself, the shock value of the dream had been enhanced by the realisation that the person behind the veil at the altar had been Clara, his longstanding exclusive ‘lady-of-the-night.’

  When the sun’s rays crawled their way through the heavy cotton curtains and wandered across his face and eyelids, he had woken with the memory of the night’s dream fresh in his mind.

  He had lain awake in bed for a good hour, pondering the meaning of the dream and the absurdity of it. Except, that under closer examination, the dream began to make some weird sort of sense.

  Over the past few months the President had spent many hours planning the education and upbringing of his soon-to-be adopted son, Jesus Christ.

  Although the planning had started out with a more strategic and political motivation, the longer Charles Jamieson had played with the idea, the more comfortable and enthusiastic he had become with the idea of himself becoming a father. It could be that this was going to be the best idea he’d ever had.

  Accepting the fact that even he, the President of America had some paternal feelings, albeit well and truly deeply buried ones, he had begun to fall prey to the same fantasies that all expectant fathers shared.

  Fishing was his favourite one. President Jamieson couldn’t wait to take his future son fishing with him. He couldn't wait to teach him everything that he knew. He was going to help Jesus become the best fly-fisherman on the Eastern Seaboard, perhaps even in the whole of America. And then there was the schooling, and the University education that had to be planned for too...and then of course...his son would need a mother.

  .

  That’s where the first problem arose. Apart from Clara, he didn’t really get on well with any other women. He had lost the knack of flirting long ago. Nowadays he just relied on his power to obtain whatever he wanted. Telling someone what to do was much easier than asking them to do it, or waiting to see if they volunteered to do it without any prompting. He knew that even if he were to spend days trying to think of someone he would want to marry, he would almost certainly draw a blank: but last night as he slept, his subconscious had been working overtime and had he had dreamt the solution. He would marry Clara.

  .

  Having accepted the possibility of marrying, a new idea blinded him with its brilliance: instead of adopting the baby clone, he would ask, or perhaps ‘tell’ Clara to become a surrogate mother for the Jesus child. Then they could say the baby really was theirs and no one would be able to question a potentially embarrassing adoption or query the child's lineage.

  There was only one major flaw in the plan. Instead of believing that Clara was a sophisticated, intelligent woman that the President had perhaps met at some charity fundraising event, there were a number of people who knew that Clara was in fact, a whore.

  It wouldn’t be good for his future stress levels to continuously have to worry when or if the secret would ever be leaked to the international press...

  Of course, as always, the answer was so simple.

  Anyone who knew the truth about Clara who he didn’t trust or know too well, would simply disappear. Or meet with a bad accident.

  .

  So, the President of America was getting married! He couldn’t wait to tell Clara the good news.

  .

  Chapter Fifty One

  Oxford, England

  Wednesday 7th Dec 8.00am.

  .

  The rest of the group were at the lab by 8am in the morning, all wondering why Don had called an urgent meeting so early on a Wednesday morning. The Professor had bought the croissants and Jason had fetched a supply of fresh filter brewed coffee from the shop on the corner. There was an air of excitement because they could all guess that whatever Don was about to tell them, was going to be good. Very good.

  .

  “So…”Don started to drag the moment out theatrically, playing with them slightly as he got out of his seat and carried his coffee to the window with him. “…you’re no doubt all wondering why I’ve got you to come in so early…”

  “Yes…you could say that…come on Don, get on with it! What have you discovered?” Louisa threw a rolled up napkin at him, having just wiped some melted chocolate from the corners of her mouth. She loved chocolate croissants.

  “..What’s the biggest problem we’re facing just now?”

  “You! Just tell us!”

  “Come on, play the game. What’s the biggest problem we have now?”

  “…okay, okay, but this better be good then. ‘Don, could it be the problem with the egg cells kicking out the donor nuclei?’” Louisa replied mimicking a little child’s voice.

  “And do you know why it’s happening?”

  “No, and you’re about to tell us why?” Jason joined in.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe what? Come on Don, this isn’t funny...” Louisa stamped her foot on the ground impatiently like a little girl.

  Don laughed.

  “Okay, okay. I went to church last night. To an advent service at Christ Church Cathedral. Guess who was there? The mayor! And what did he do? Well, he got up and gave the first lesson. It went something like this...” Don pulled out a little copy of the new testament and flicked to a page he had earmarked earlier.–

  “ ‘In the sixth month God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph…’ ”

  The Professor jumped to his feet at the back of the room.

  “Of course, of course...It’s so obvious! And we’ve been so stupid!”

  Jason turned to look at the Professor.

  “What? What is it?”

  “What's obvious? Come on! What are we missing?” Louisa stamped her foot again, annoyed that she wasn’t getting it.

  “Does the next line help?-‘You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.’”

  “No. Am I being really thick here or what?” Louisa was almost beginning to cry. Even Jason was beginning to nod his head with understanding. She stood up and turned to the Professor for sympathy, who was smiling broadly.

  “Then, what about.- ‘“How can this be”, Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”

  The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.-’ ”.

  Louisa sat down hard, realisation dawning upon her face.

  “Oh no...it’s incredible...do you think it will work?”

  “Yes. I’m sure of it. Scientifically I haven’t got a clue why it will make a difference, but I’m convinced it will. It just has to.”

  “I’m sure it will Don. It makes sense. It's the one thing we were missing!” The Professor came up to Don, clapping him hard by way of congratulation and turning to the others. “This is no run-of-the mill clone we’re making here… and what we’ve embarked upon is no ordinary piece of science…”

  “…So, if we’re going to clone Jesus Christ, then …” L
ouisa joined in, interrupting and completing the Professor’s sentence. “we’re going to have to find and use the egg cells of a God fearing, honest, decent and caring virgin to create the G-clone!”

  “That only leaves just one problem.” Jason added, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. “Where are we going to find a virgin nowadays? And not only that, where on earth are we supposed to find one that wants to accept the responsibility of becoming the surrogate mother of Jesus Christ?”

  .

  ---------------------

  .

  The task of finding a virgin with the right credentials fell naturally to Louisa. In the past while working with the Professor on previous projects, it had been her job to liaise with the adoption agencies and the family planning clinics, to help find willing surrogate mothers, or families who were trying to plan a family, but who for one reason or another were not able to have children without some sort of medical help. She even had relationships with some of the local sperm banks.

  .

  The task of finding a willing virgin would not be easy, 'willing' in the sense that she wanted to become a surrogate mother. It seemed like an impossible task. It didn't help that the Professor and Jason wanted her to find someone soon.

  The sooner the better.

  .

  ---------------------

  Oxford, England

  Wednesday 8th Dec 7.00pm

  .

  The night shift would soon be starting at the children’s home and in a few minutes Maria would be relieved, and allowed the chance to go home. She was looking forward to an evening off.

  It had been a long day. Two of the children had been ill with the bug that was going around, and little Sarah was still ill with the measles.

  Shame, it would be little Sarah’s birthday in two days, but if the spots hadn't gone by tomorrow, they would have to cancel the birthday party. Of the twenty children in the home, Sarah was Maria’s favourite.

  While she waited for the relief shift to arrive, she sat with Sarah on her lap and read her another goodnight story. Sarah was only four but already she had learned to read some small words. She was a very bright girl.

  There were five people who worked in the home during the day, caring for the children and helping to try and give them as normal a life as possible.

  Maria loved children and she had not once regretted the decision to leave the convent and start working in the outside world again. She had never lost her faith, or turned away from her beliefs, but after four years as a Sister she had felt called to leave the confines of the sisterhood and search for a more practical way to devote her life to God. She loved children and she seemed to have a special way of relating to them. In particular, she had a gift in getting through to those that other’s didn’t seem able to reach.

  It was at the suggestion of the Mother Superior that she had contacted the Frampton Home for Children, and since the moment she had walked through the doorway on her first visit, the home and its children had become her adopted family.

  For the first two years she had lived with the children in the house, but a year ago she felt the need to become more independent and after inheriting some money from her late uncle, she had bought a house on the outskirts of Oxford.

  Only two months ago Maria had celebrated her thirty-second birthday. It was a chance to count her blessings for all the new found friends and loved ones she had found, and she had thrown a fantastic party for them all. It had been a great day. A wonderful day that was marred by only one thing.

  Although she kept the pain well hidden from those around her, her maternal clock had begun to tick and she wanted more and more with each and every passing day to have a child of her own. She knew she would make a great mother.

  She was not at all unattractive. Her long brown hair, and her shapely figure attracted many a man to her, but the oath she had sworn to celibacy in the convent still burned strongly within her heart. As part of her vows she had sworn never to share the physical act of intimacy with a man. Though sometimes, when she lay in bed alone at night, the longing for a child grew almost too much, and in recent months she had begun to wonder if she would be strong enough to keep her vows.

  During the day she turned her growing maternal instincts to the children in her care and on a daily basis dedicated her life to their happiness.

  She didn’t mind that Catriona, the carer replacing her for the night shift, was thirty minutes late. She enjoyed reading to Sarah, and sat with her for a while after she had finally nodded off to sleep. When Catriona arrived, she handed over her notes for the day telling her to keep a special eye out on Laura, who was having teething problems, which explained why she was suffering from bad temper and bouts of crying.

  As she drove through the streets of Oxford, she admired the city she had chosen for her home. She never tired of the colleges and the busy throng of students that filled the city streets and pubs with excitement and a feeling of hope for the future. Sometimes she even daydreamed about what life would have been like if she had accepted the university place she had been offered, instead of becoming a nun. When she got home she made herself a quick cup of tea, switched off the main lights and lit a small candle, putting her feet up for a few moments to enjoy the quiet and warmth of her own home. It wasn’t long before she nodded off.

  The phone startled her.

  "Hullo, may I speak to a Miss Maria Quinn?"

  "Speaking…" Maria answered, worried that an official phone call so late at night could only be the bearer of bad tidings. Her thoughts automatically turned to her parents...had there been an accident?

  "I'm sorry to call you so late, but your file says that you work during the day, and we wanted to talk to you personally."

  "Who am I talking to please?" Maria asked quickly, her concern rising.

  "Sorry, this is the Walker Clinic in Cambridge. You recently joined us?"

  "Yes, I did…"

  Her heart started to beat faster, and she cast her mind back to the week before when she had plucked up the courage to visit the clinic for the first time.

  It had been a friend's suggestion that perhaps the best solution to her problem would be to consider being artificially inseminated. She wouldn't have to break the vows she made at the convent, and she would hopefully manage to get pregnant and have the child she so longed for. It seemed like the obvious answer.

  "…Miss Quinn...I can see from your file that tomorrow is your day off. I was wondering if you could maybe come into the clinic tomorrow afternoon? The doctor in charge would like to meet with you personally. He has read your file and has taken a personal interest in your case. Would it be possible for you to meet with him, at say, 3pm?"

  .

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Washington D.C.

  Wednesday 7th Dec P.M.

  .

  Tim flew out of Vale first thing the next morning, eager to get home as soon as possible. He wanted to eat dinner with his daughter and read her a story in bed before she went to sleep that night. He hadn’t managed to speak to his wife yet today and he felt guilty for leaving her alone. Now more than ever they needed to support each other.

  Unfortunately, he had to go to the White House first to make his weekly report to the President.

  As he walked through the corridors of the White House where generations of Presidents and their staffs had walked before him it suddenly dawned on Tim just how much he’d changed over the years. When he had first walked down these corridors the adrenaline had coursed through his system and a sense of honour and patriotism had made him feel proud and strong. Today he just felt tired and disillusioned.

  The Presidents aide ushered him straight into the Oval office, informing him as he passed that the President, for no known reason, was in an incredibly good mood.

  “Tim...Good to see you man...come in! Sit down. What’s your poison…still whiskey neat? Here, let me get you one!”

  The President waived Tim to a chair across from his
large desk and rose to go to the bar in the wall. He poured himself a large bourbon, and pulled a thirty-year-old malt from the back of the bar for Tim. Tim realised that it must be a special occasion. A very special occasion. In all his years of serving the President, this was the first time he’d seen the President reach for the Special Reserve.

  “So what’s the special occasion?”

  “I’m getting married?”

  “What?…to whom?”

  “Clara…”

  Tim was silent for a moment. As head of security he was one of the few people that officially knew about Clara, and her personal history. It had been his job to conduct a full and exhaustive search of her background before she had been granted the high level security clearance which enabled her to visit the President so freely. Immediately Tim knew that apart from himself, who the President trusted completely, the marriage would result in the ‘disappearance’ of some others less favoured. He felt surprised by just how much this thought actually disgusted him. He was growing tired of the killing, but this time he felt something different. It was wrong to kill. He mused upon the conflict his new conscience was stirring within him, then focussed back on the job in hand. If it weren’t for her chosen profession, on the surface of it Clara wouldn’t have been a bad catch. She was a fine looking woman. Her figure was one that made every man take a second glance, long blonde hair and a fantastic figure with curves in all the right places. Even Tim had more than once felt the occasional stirring in his loins as she swept past him on her way from the private helicopter to the President's private quarters.