Sacred Flesh Read online

  “Yeah, I just had one.”

  He grimly tosses a bagel into the toaster.

  “Are you teaching summer session again this year?”

  “Remember, I thought I told you. I’m not teaching this summer. I have that article I’m trying to get the science journal to publish. I really hoped they would have by now, they should have anyway. But they sent it back for rewrites so now I’m tied down with that while at the same time I’m waiting to hear about the grant. If I get that then the university will have to give me the time and lab space to complete my research which. . .” The bagel pops up out of the toaster. “Which I can’t get to because every freaking semester I’m struck teaching these intro courses to a bunch of hung over freshmen who could care less about the subject,” he says while carefully spreading cream cheese over his bagel, “Man, I love cream cheese.”

  “I thought you had a grad student this year.”

  “A master’s candidate,” He bites into the bagel, “Is this blueberry?” He says as a crumb falls into his brown beard.

  She nods yes.

  “He’s done with the program, doing his Ph. D. work somewhere else.”

  “I was thinking we could go up to the lake sometime,” she adds hopefully.

  “What?”

  “The lake, if we could get up there sometime I thought it would be nice.”

  “Damn, I haven’t seen that cabin for awhile, did we go last year?”

  ‘Emily and I went. You were working.”

  “Oh yeah,” He finishes the last bite.

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know Janet. We’ll have to see. I’m worried about this grant. I’m so sick of getting rejected every year. If those idiots don’t come through this year I’m tempted to leave the university.”

  “You’re kidding. What about your pension?”

  “I don’t care. I’ve had it with them. I got all this work to do and they want me to serve on the search committee for the new chancellor. They don’t respect me, never have, never supported my research,” he wipes his hands on a nearby paper napkin and tosses it into the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Well, I gotta go.” He hurries across the kitchen and through the living room to his home office without saying goodbye. Janet, his wife of twenty seven years, just sits and stares out the kitchen window, sighing she sips her coffee, now cold, “My husband is never home, my daughter away at school. She’ll probably meet some guy and move. I’ll hardly see her or her kids if she has them. Maybe I should get a dog.” She sighs again as she hears from the other side of the house her husband closing the door to his office. Once inside he picks up some papers from his desk when his cell phone rings, “Okay, okay yeah, that sounds good. Listen, I really can’t really talk now. I’m home in my office. Why don’t I meet you later around four o’clock, yeah, that sounds real good, Okay bye.” He tosses the phone into his open briefcase along with some papers from atop his large oak desk. Thinking for a brief moment how much she reminds him of Janet when they were young. Then slowly he removes the strange envelope from the briefcase liner pocket, holding it up again he looks at the odd lettering re-reading it as he has done so many times since receiving it the day before. Quickly, he shoves it back into his briefcase throwing down the lid and rapidly snapping it shut.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Our first scientist friend is expired, dead, whatever you want to call it – it was better that way. Now we must find another scientist, one who will do our testing,” Haggai says.

  “We’ve contacted a very good prospect. He should have received the letter yesterday with the number to call. I’d give him a couple of days to think about it, he’ll call us I’m sure of it,” Mark says.

  “How can you be so sure Mark? Oh I mean Logo. I keep forgetting we are addressing each other by Elite names only. Let’s see, you are Logo, Thomas is Clovis, John is Cosward, and Peter is Solor, I’ll get it right eventually,” Haggai lends forward across his huge desk. “So, how can we be sure about our new scientist?”

  “We’ve been tracking him for awhile. He’s desperate for money. His daughter’s in an Ivy League school and his wife spends all his income. He’s been working for several years to obtain a national award and with the award money open his own lab. He’s gunning hard for it and from what I understand from our contact he’s desperate for recognition in his field. Academia keeps passing him by and retirement is closing in on him like a trap. He’s driven that he must have some kind of breakthrough, wants to make a name for himself. You know, one of those guys,” Logo says standing before him.

  “So how much do we tell him?” Haggai asks.

  “Only what he needs to know. We’re paying him big for this, a third for each test. To be safe we’ll deliver them one at a time. He’ll do the test and we’ll pick up the sample and the result.”

  “We can trust him?”

  “Yes, he’s clean. We will indicate to him that we represent a private archaeological group attempting to identify some old DNA from human flesh. He doesn’t need to know any more than that and quite frankly I doubt that he’ll care,” Logo says.

  “As long as he gets his money.”

  “Exactly!” Logo states.

  “Do we take care of him like the others?” Haggai asks.

  “I’d rather not. The fewer bodies we have to dispose of the better. Pay him the money and let him go. From his personality profile I doubt seriously if we’ll have any trouble.”

  “What if after this breaks into the open he figures out who we are and what his role really was, then what? What if he comes back demanding more money?” Haggai asks.

  “If that should occur then I guess we’ll just have to deal with him then. But by that time we’ll be holding all the cards. I mean at that point – if he was to cause any trouble we wouldn’t be the only ones that would want to keep him quiet,” Logos says.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re correct. So when do we hear from this professor? I want to move on this now – before Rome comes in and screws everything up,” Haggai says.

  “I have a feeling Professor Dunbar will be calling us very soon,” Logo says smiling.

  CHAPTER 6

  Before the city had grown into a place big enough for a desperate man to conduct an affair with a young woman without much worry of discovery, before all this it had been a much smaller local. Founded by fur traders and fisherman hauling their catches from the rapidly moving river that cuts the city in two, the water brought mill-workers and the impress of easterly immigration. As they grew their city on a hill they built several churches as the pioneers brought along their brands of faith as much as they brought along their pick axes, shovel, and saws. Jim Dunbar now stops at the corner light tapping his fingers on the steering wheel of his blue sedan in anticipation of seeing her again. Unbeknownst to him he sits by the corner site upon which 160 years ago stood a small white church built there by its members who before had been meeting at Jacob Donaldson’s farmhouse. But now they had a proper meeting place for Sunday worship. And they were glad of it, so glad the woman in bonnets and the men in fine black suits hitching wagons and buggies to the posts out front. Any passerby at the time would surely agree that such a sitting seemed nothing but idyllic. They would have no hint of the trouble brewing below the pews in the undercroft where the weekly Wednesday evening church meetings took place.

  There, the elders discussed various issues of proper church worship, their opinions rippling through the air. Simple enough at first all this was, but it soon grew into a boiler pace. The twisted faces and rapid hand jesters, the repeatedly raised voices, easily heard from outside the church. The town’s people knew that the inner core of the church could be rather secretive. And they were proved right when no one uttered a word as Silas E. Machson suddenly and unexpectedly packed his wagon with all his worldly possessions and left town. He had spoke with no one about what happened in the undercroft the evening before. All that the townspeople knew for certain was that Silas and his friends were gone and t
he weekly church meetings turned much quieter.

  But Jim Dunbar has no reason to know this history as he speeds to the Ravens Den lounge. A perfect clandestine meeting place away from home, not the sort of upscale establishment frequented by his university colleagues. It is relatively safe to meet her here, he thinks while pulling into the parking lot, still not really believing that he is meeting her, not even sure what to call it that, just getting together a few times since she first came to office hours. He felt the attraction, mutual yes, but he held back until after the semester was complete. Still, she dropped by to say hi and they began talking and flirting. He felt her presence as a welcomed relief from the overbearing pressure, the consent need to prove himself to a world that was slowly turning its back on him. She listened to his dreams, his ideas, like no one else did even if in the back of his mind he knew the reality of having his own research lab and making a name in his field were fading, slipping away, at least someone was still listening. Soon there were drinks and quick meetings in places whose names were always unimportant and quickly forgotten.

  The young student, Melody, returns to her dreamer life pursuing the tug of becoming an actress upon some stage other than ordinary life. Meanwhile, she studies toward her bachelor’s degree and is happy taking orders at the sandwich shack, a little place in the student union center. Her intro biology class last semester allowed her to pursue another far more carnal dream, that in the form of a much older man, a secret friend that she always desired.

  Jim Dunbar having tied his brown shoe laces returns to his car and the drive to his university office. All the time wandering why this pretty young thing chose him to hang out with. This can’t go on forever, he says to himself pulling onto the main thoroughfare, pressing the accelerator while merging into traffic, This really isn’t me. I don’t even know why this is happening. I just need to get that grant, it could so easily lead to more money and recognition and then finally I can get my own lab, a staff, I could really move the ‘working flesh’ idea along. Then people will listen. Then they will want to read my articles. His mind begins to wonder toward the letter in his briefcase. What should I do? They are expecting an answer soon. He drives for another ten minutes then turns off the highway and onto the long tree lined winding road with the tall limestone university clock tower poking up toward the sky.

  CHAPTER 7

  “It is them. They have two, maybe three of the relics. We believe they stole one from a church less than two weeks ago,” Belo says.

  “How can we be sure?” Roman asks.

  “We have our people working in the field. They were able to trace the culprit to America, somewhere in the east.”

  “Well, that certainly narrows it down.” Roman lends back in his chair.

  “In some ways it truly does. The Elite has been known to go mobile when they sense danger. They’ve been known to separate and travel in opposite directions for months at a time if need be, making them difficult to track down particularly if they know we are looking for them,” Belo says.

  “And they know this?” Jean injects.

  “Oh sure, they know. They have to know we’ve been searching for the foreskins. Those relics rightfully belong to the church,” Belo answers.

  “What do you think they will do with them, do they know about our plans?” Roman asks.

  “I don’t think they do, not unless one of us told them. They know we want them, but why is only known to us,” Belo says.

  “They are up to something I fear,” Roman says.

  “Yes, they are. They are more advanced than I thought. We believe they may have contacted a biology professor in America to perform DNA testing. The same tests we wish to perform to determine the same answer we seek,” Belo says.

  “If one of them is His?” Roman asks.

  “Yes, exactly and if they do indeed have the DNA of Christ then we must use all measures to stop them,” Belo says.

  “Perhaps we can negotiate with them, everyone has a price no?” Jean asks.

  “I’m not so confident I would trust them in any negotiations,” Belo answers.

  “They are not to be trusted EVER! Look what they have done, they have stolen the very flesh of the Savior directly from the belly of The Church!” Roman exclaims.

  “We have another option open at this time,” Belo states.

  “What is this you speak of?” Jean asks.

  “I have someone ready to go to the U.S. and locate the biology professor. We get to him before the tests are performed and tell him who he is getting involved with in the Elite. Then we convince him to work for us,” Belo says.

  “And this plan will work?” Roman asks.

  “Certainly, I believe it can. But we must move quickly. In fact our Go Man is at the airport now waiting for our call.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “You seem nervous Jim, everything all right?” Glenn says standing in Jim’s office.

  “Oh, ah, no I’m fine, just tired that’s all,” Jim says while sitting down behind his desk, the lines in his face seeming a little deeper than before.

  “We waited for you down at the committee meeting, you know end of semester.”

  “Oh damn, that’s right that was today wasn’t it,” Jim says.

  “No big deal usual stuff, budget crap. I covered for you.”

  “Thanks Glenn.” Jim says rubbing his beard.

  “You’re sure you’re all right?” Glenn asks.

  “Yeah, I’m just going to grab some coffee or something.”

  “Okay, Maybe I’ll see you this weekend, I got a tee time Saturday afternoon.”

  “Yeah, maybe I’ll call you Glenn.”

  “Okay friend, get some sleep,” He strolls out of the office closing the door behind him.

  Jim buries his hands in his face wandering if his anxiety is obvious to his colleague. Rubbing his eyes he stares out the office window still trying to believe that what just occurred an hour ago did in fact happened. How the day before yesterday he finally called the phone number on the letter. The odd, hollow sounding old man who answered directed him to the local bowling alley café. What an odd a place to meet. But he went, sitting there with a cup of coffee and a fried pork tenderloin sandwich (that he didn’t really want but felt compelled to order in an effort to fit in with the crowd.) By the time he thought he would actually have to begin eating the fried sandwich the contact arrived; a very indiscrete looking middle aged man, in a white polo shirt and blue jeans carrying a bowling bag that looked like it had never been used. He saw Jim and came right over. How does he know it’s me? Jim thought nervously to himself but before he could collect his thoughts the man was sitting directly across from him smiling while extending a hand.

  “Good to see you, glad you made it.”

  “Sure, kind of a unique place for a meeting of such a serious nature,” Jim says.

  ”It’s better here,” he says.

  Jim nods, not really understanding what he means, surely he isn’t talking about the sandwiches.

  CHAPTER 9

  “He looks a little nervous, maybe unsure of himself but I don’t know if it’s this so much or maybe he’s worried about his wife finding out about the pretty young lady he’s been with lately,” he says into the phone while sitting at his desk.

  “He must be solid. You told us he was dependable,” the voice on the other end of the phone replies.

  “He’ll do fine. He’s just got to get used to the idea of doing secret DNA testing. I’m sure when he picks up the first payment he’ll settle right into the operation.”

  “You’ll call again, after the next appointment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, goodbye.”

  “Goodbye Haggai,” he slowly hangs up the phone on his desk. His eyes scan his office as he listens to the sound of passing footsteps in the hallway. In the darkness he sits looking over the list of members. Their Elite names next to the monetary reward scheduled for each. He smiles to himself thinking of all the money the chur
ch will gladly lay at the feet of him and his friends once they realize that the Elite has The Child. Surely, they will stop at nothing to have access to The Child.

  What genuine power we will wield, he smiles, how long it has been building to this point. Oh the work, time, and energy invested and now the crucial turning point, that poor fool Dunbar down the hall, little does he know what a great role he is playing. I almost wish I could tell him but no, it is better he remain in darkness. He is not an Elite, not from the pedigree. (He fondly remembers when his father reveled to him the Elite bloodline and whence it all originated.)

  CHAPTER 10

  “We’ve lost her.”

  “What the hell do you mean lost her?” Haggai says wrinkling up his thick white eyebrows.

  “The woman we had had impregnated with the DNA from the first sample, she’s fallen out of touch I guess you’d say,” Logos says while he and Cosward stand in the middle of Haggai’s dimly lit office.

  “Explain to me just how the hell we lose touch with the sample woman? The one who could conceivably be carrying The Child and we just lose touch with her?” he says clutching his fists.

  “We had her squirreled away in an apartment downtown where we could watch her. She’s still early in the pregnancy only two months,” Cosward says.

  “We’re still paying her right?” Haggai asks.

  “Oh yes, rent, food, all that paid for. I guess maybe she got restless or something. You know we didn’t let her move around on her own much, maybe we should have let her go shopping or something,” Logos says.

  “Oh sure and then who knows what could happen. You realize how much money and trouble we have invested in her and we’re just going to let her wander around the mall. Oh sure, get her a credit card, the woman carrying The Child of Christ. She’s good for it! Damn it anyway!” Haggai throws up his hands and quickly turns in his large black leather chair.