The Messiah Code (14 page)

"It was noticeable in a day. At first I thought I must be imagining it. Hoping it. But then by the evening I decided to tell Dr. Petit." Valerie shrugged, her eyes radiating confidence. "Also I felt better. I just
knew
I was getting better."

He nodded as he looked into her assured eyes. What was that overused quote? "That which does not destroy us makes us stronger." He understood what the philosopher really meant then, and felt a rush of envy. This woman would never be frightened of death again.

"How long ago did this happen?"

Dr. Petit checked his file. "Today's Tuesday. Valerie alerted us on Thursday evening. And by last thing on Sunday we had seen this much improvement." He handed over two more X rays.

Tom took them and again held them up to the light. The difference was remarkable. They could almost be the X rays of a different patient. The large tumors in the stomach and kidneys had shrunk to just a smudge and the brain looked clear. No tumors at all.

"We also conducted exploratory surgery to check," explained the French doctor. "The pathologist confirmed from the tumor samples that they were now necrotic. The tumor tissue was dead, killed by the body's antibodies."

Tom looked at the two sets of X rays side by side. "And there's no clue at all how, or why?"

"Nothing. Except the DNA analysis we got from GENIUS Paris."

"You've already done DNA analysis?" he asked with a mixture of excitement and disappointment. "And you found nothing?"

"
Au contraire
." Dr. Petit pointed across the ward at another bed similarly bedecked with flowers. "We used the GENIUS Processing Laboratory in Paris to scan the blood of both the patients, Valerie here and Monsieur Corbasson over there. The gene scan showed that their blood prior to the remission carried the genetic defects that led to their disease. But after the remission their genome was changed, altered..."

"The genetic sequence in their genome had corrected itself? Their
whole
genome? Not just the affected cells?"

"
Mais bien sur
," said the Frenchman. "But we don't know how. The only link between the two is that they share the same blood type and could have received blood transfusions from the same batch. But we don't have any samples left of the batch used."

"They received the same blood transmission, but nothing else? No other links?" asked Tom.

Dr. Petit shook his head. "
Rien
."

"Were any other patients treated with the same batch?"

"Not cancer patients. No. It was a rare type. AB." Jean Luc's eyes sparkled again. "Come! Let us meet with the second miracle patient. A
bientot
, Valerie."

Tom thanked Valerie and said goodbye. And by the time he turned to follow Dr. Petit, the Frenchman was already standing across the ward by the other bed, beckoning him with quick impatient gestures.

The second miracle patient was Guillaume Corbasson, a fortyfive-year-old farmer from near Toulouse. Tom shook the man's hand and greeted him in French.

Dr. Petit took a photograph from the second file under his arm and explained, "Monsieur Corbasson had a major sarcoma on his thigh, and a number of secondary metastases throughout his body." He showed the photo to Tom, who studied the hugely distended lump on the man's right thigh. A tumor the size of a grapefruit, it threatened to break through the skin.

Tom asked, "When was this taken?"

"One week ago exactly. It had doubled in size in almost

eight weeks. So we were getting desperate to control it." Dr. Petit looked up from his file. "Again we were just about to put him on gene therapy, when it began to decline."

"At about the same time as Valerie Dubois's condition began to improve?"

"Within a day or so," replied Dr. Petit. The French doctor asked his patient if they could see his leg.

"
Mais bien sur
," declared Guillaume, eagerly pulling back the covers to show the proof of his victory.

Tom reached down and ran his hands over the man's thigh. It was virtually flat. If he pressed hard, he could still feel a small ball of hard tissue, but it was tiny--a pea compared to the photograph.

"Incredible!"

"
Oui. Incroyable
!" agreed the patient with a gleeful grin that revealed two missing teeth.

Tom smiled back, then turned to the doctor. "How about the secondaries?"

"All are necrotic, completely dead. Now I suggest we go back to my office where we can talk further."

Tom thanked Corbasson and followed the doctor out of the ward. As they walked he continued to bombard the French doctor with questions.

"Jean Luc, this can't just be coincidence. You have two terminally ill patients, months away from death; then all of a sudden they're both cured. And the only link, apart from being on the same ward with the same doctor, is that they have the same rare blood type, which means they may have shared a similar batch of donor blood. Perhaps there was something in the blood transfusions?"

"Like what?" Dr. Petit asked.

Tom shook his head in frustration and said, "A new virus perhaps. A rare positive one that carried a corrective genetic sequence in it. It could happen, Jean Luc."

Dr. Petit sighed and rolled his dark doleful eyes. "Yes it
could
happen. But the odds are long, are they not? Both patients have been thoroughly screened for viral infections and nothing's been found. And don't forget that all the

blood samples undergo numerous heat treatments to kill all known viral agents."

"Yes, but only
known
viral agents."

"But there was no evidence of
any
virus in either Valerie Dubois's or Guillaume Corbasson's bloodstream. Nor any change agent either." Dr. Petit stopped outside his office and then walked in. He gestured for Tom to take a seat and went to the coffee machine, where he poured two cups. Tom took the coffee offered by his host. "But there was a change," he insisted. "That's evidence that something happened. Something changed. Perhaps there was something in the genetic makeup of the blood they received that modified their own DNA? An instruction that canceled their own badly spelled program and replaced it with the correct code in the donor's blood?"

"Perhaps," admitted Dr. Petit, taking his seat and a drink of his coffee. He looked at Tom over the rim of his steaming cup. "Look, I want to find the reason as much as you do. Obviously, because then we could perhaps replicate the effect. But we can't find the reason. As you know, the blood transfusion came from a compound batch of numerous anonymous individuals. And because we don't have any remaining samples of the particular batch, we can't analyze the blood. Of course you're welcome to analyze the cured patients' blood, and look at all the gene scans. But that will tell you nothing. It would be like using a spent match to re-create fire. The catalyst has gone. But anyway, Tom, if this miracle strain of yours does exist, why haven't we all caught the virus?"

Tom frowned. This was the one question he had been avoiding asking himself, because he couldn't think of a convincing enough answer. Most contagious viruses didn't spread throughout the whole human population because they burned themselves out, killing their hosts before they could pass it on. But a miracle strain like the one he was pinning his hopes on would actually extend its host's life. So assuming the positive virus had been around for even a few decades, then logic would dictate that most of the world population should have caught it by now. "I don't

know, Jean Luc," he admitted after a short pause. "But everything has a cause and an effect."

"Okay. Then could your miracle strain be chemical instead of viral?"

"Chemical? What do you mean? Like pheromones?"

Jean Luc performed yet another shrug. "
Oui
. Why not? If insects can secrete chemicals, then why can't we?"

Tom nodded cautiously, aware he was clutching at straws now. Still, it was true that some insects did secrete pheromones to arouse potential mates, and it had long been believed that humans secreted similar chemicals through their sweat and blood. He knew, for example, that when two or more women lived in the same house together the timing of their menstrual cycles would coincide over time. No one yet knew exactly how this happened, but it was suspected to be due to some chemical stimulus passed between them. A chemical rather than viral agent for the healing gift would also explain its rarity. A healer might possess rare genes in his DNA that allowed him to secrete healing chemicals through touch, or bodily fluids, without passing on--or "spreading"--the ability.

"Still sounds a bit thin, doesn't it?" he said.

"Perhaps the cures weren't scientific at all, but God's will," replied Jean Luc with a smile. "Tom, if you were a fellow Christian you might understand. Christmas has just passed and Easter is not far away. Perhaps God simply had mercy on two unfortunates? Decided to meddle in nature to commemorate the birth, death, and resurrection of his son?"

Tom gave a wry smile and immediately thought of Jasmine. He envied her and Jean Luc's faith. Whenever they didn't understand anything they just had to say, "Oh, it must be God moving in one of his mysterious ways again." No more questions, no more doubts, no more headaches. Too difficult to work out? Then it must be put down to God. Easy.

"So, Jean Luc," he asked with a weary sigh, "help me to understand. How would your God have gone about saving them?"

Jean Luc smiled and his dark compassionate eyes searched Tom's face. It was plain that the French doctor was unsure how serious he was being. "Well, God can do anything. He is omnipotent, you know." The Frenchman spread his hands wide in an expansive gesture and shot Tom a mischievous grin. "Perhaps he just decreed that they both got better. Or perhaps he did as you say. He tampered with the blood..." Suddenly the Frenchman chuckled at something he'd just thought of. "Yes, Tom, perhaps he changed the blood transfusion into the blood of Jesus. It will be Easter soon, so it would be right that his son's blood should again save mankind.
Non
?"

Jean Luc Petit laughed again, an easy innocent laugh that clearly gloried in the happy salvation of his two patients.

But Tom didn't join him.

Jean Luc suddenly stopped and looked upset, as if he'd caused offense. "I'm only joking, my friend. I'm a doctor, not a philosopher, and I still don't know."

Tom didn't respond because his mind was elsewhere, making a connection between two apparently unrelated thoughts: the notion of a healing virus or pheromone and something else Jean Luc had said. When brought together they formed the germ of a preposterous idea. He tried to remember that article he'd read in a magazine a few weeks back. Where was the place again? Somewhere in Sardinia? He'd ring Dad. Alex would know. And he'd ask him to brief him on the rest of the topic too.

He turned to the concerned doctor. "Jean Luc?"

"
Oui, mon ami
."

Tom rose from his chair and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Thanks for everything, but could I please ask you two more favors?"

"Anything."

"First of all can I use a private phone?"

"
Mais bien sur
."

"And can your secretary get my return flight diverted to Sardinia?"

"Sardinia?" Jean Luc gave him a bemused smile, as he rose to lead Tom to the next office. "Certainly, Tom. Is anything wrong?"

"No, Jean Luc," he said, trying to get his mind around his farfetched idea. "Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong at all."

J
asmine Washington watched Special Agent Karen Tanner's face and waited for her reaction. She wasn't disappointed when it came. The auburn-haired FBI agent's green eyes opened wide and an involuntary "Jeez!" issued from her parted lips. "How the hell did you do that?"

Jasmine shared a conspiratorial smile with Debbie, her tall blond assistant. The Gene-Imaging software was virtually glitchfree, and the definition on the hologram was excellent. Even the technophobic Jack Nichols looked impressed.

All four of them stood in the Genescope facility, next to Jasmine's office in the IT Section. Since Tom had dashed off to Paris three days before she had been working around the clock with Debbie and her team to perfect the software. And it was just as well, because earlier today Jack Nichols, still fuming about Tom's unescorted jaunt around Europe, had been telephoned by an excited Karen Tanner. There had been another murder in Manhattan with all the Preacher's trademarks, but this time the killer had apparently left something behind that might identify him.

"So, how does it work?" asked Karen Tanner again, staring at the life-size hologram of her head as it floated above the holopad next to the farthest Genescope.

Jasmine studied the 3-D image for a moment longer before answering. It was a pity Tom hadn't returned from Paris, or Sardinia, or wherever he was now. He hadn't yet seen a totally glitch-free demonstration of the technology, and this was perfect. The hologram was so lifelike it was spooky, even the auburn hair and green eyes were identical. If anything, it looked slightly younger than the real-life original, but that could be modified just by entering more accurate environmental inputs.

"It works by reading your genes and calculating your appearance," Jasmine said eventually. "When you came in this morning I took a hair from the shoulder of your jacket. I had to check that it still had the root attached, but then the rest was easy."

Karen reached out and put her hand through the ghostly head. "It looks just like me. It's incredible. Can you only do the head?"

"No, we can do the whole body. But we decided to protect your modesty in front of Jack here."

Karen gave her a puzzled look.