Thursday, December 16, 2010

Chapter 15

15
RIO DE JANIERO

Liban Bersannos was in charge of Senor Robele's entire legal division. He was as old as Robeles himself, but the two of them went back well into the Senor's checkered past. The old man had instructed him to bring the brightest young lawyer in the corporation with him to the castle that rainy night. Victor Santos was nervous, but having already acquitted himself well in trial, he gave an air of confidence. The older attorney was pleased with his choice.

The two of them walked into a huge gloomy room that could be none other than the suite for the master of the place. At the far end a massive four posted bed seemed to anchor everything else in the Senor's room. The drapes were lowered on three sides, and an electric heater purred softly on the floor.

The colors of the room seemed to be dulled by layers of dust though it was, of course, immaculate. Everything in the great hall seemed ancient and near death. Even the ancient parrot which could no longer either speak nor squawk seemed to doze in a timeless slumber on its perch.

Robele's priest, Father Riaz, clutched his hands in a practiced display of earthly concern. He sat on the edge of a great chair near the man in the bed. A nurse and a doctor made what provisions were possible for the old man's comfort before leaving the room.

Robeles motioned them forward. Bersanno placed a dry kiss on the old man's nearly lifeless hand. "I have brought Victor Santos, Senor. I trust him."

"Good. Good." Robeles muttered. His voice was remarkably strong, and although he lay pale and weak, near death, his eyes were afire. "Listen to me this last time, Father, Liban, and, and ..."

"Victor, Senor Robeles. Victor Santos" The old lawyer turned sharply to look at the young man as he spoke. It was as if some sacrilege had occurred.

"Yes, Victor, of course. Now all of you listen to me. I will make my confession to Father Riaz and give you my final instructions all at once. I may not have time even for that, much less one thing at a time. I must tell you a story, a story I prayed I would see finished save the Grace of God Almighty. This is not to be. The finishing of my life's greatest task will fall to you, my trusted counsel. The redemption of my immortal soul will depend on the efforts of our good Father Riaz, and perhaps the gratitude of a forgiving God."

"Twenty two years ago I provided Tillotson with the scrolls that led him to the tomb. After he found it, I caused him to be murdered. I retrieved a sample of tissue from that sacred body, then I caused the destruction of the body and the tomb. I ordered the deaths of the Hindu Kush soldiers by nerve gas."

"I had our GenenTeknic bioengineering labs clone the sample right in Sao Paulo. They didn't know what they were working with or what it would mean to the world. At the same time I purchased an island from the Brazilian Government, a tiny place off the coast of Amapa and transformed it into a fish bowl of peasant living, a place where the Child might have an opportunity to grow to manhood without the distractions of the world at large."

"I had a control center built within the rocks at the north end of the island, Paraneho, and I staffed it with security people, rotating to the mainland now and again. They had no idea what they were guarding, only that they were to prevent any landing there, prevent any contact with the world. Concealed closed circuit cameras monitor all areas of the island."

"The island appears on no map I have ever seen. The local fishermen know about it, but have long since forgotten. It is too far from the coast to be a hazard to navigation -- no shipping lanes pass by it -- and too small to represent any value in respect to land. I have never visited the place, but I have been able to observe developments there by means of videotapes they have sent to me."

"I selected a married couple from the mainland, Jose and Maria, ironically enough to play the role of father and mother. Maria was impregnated with the cloned embryo and gave birth to a robust, healthy full term boy. That child has now grown to be a healthy young man of about eighteen years. He lives on that island in a manner which is entirely consistent with a young peasant man of the region."

"That child is Jesus Christ."

The Father's face, already ghostly pale, dropped to the stark white of sheer terror. He began to speak, but Bersannos glared at him. There was not time enough for histrionics.

The man in the bed continued. "That couple took my surname for the duration of their contracts with me. Counsel, they are to be paid fifteen million dollars each no matter what happens, do you understand?"

"Also on the island were another couple, Prospero and Juanita Gemarra. They had two children before Prospero died. Juanita is mother to her daughter, Victoria, age sixteen, and her son, Juan, age twenty or twenty-one. Juan was born literally as the Gemarra'sGemarra family the same as Jesus' parents. Further, you will pay Juanita Gemarra additionally the share Prospero would have received had he lived."

"It is my dream that Jesus will go forth and preach His new Gospel to the world when He reaches the age of thirty. On His thirtieth birthday a sealed canister will open in the security bunker. In it will be all useful information about His identity and His beginnings. The security force, whomever they may be by that time, will be responsible for presenting this information to Him and assisting Him in every way that He may begin His ministry."

"Should the island face an imminent threat beyond the scope of the security force, there are instructions to open the canister and proceed with these instructions immediately, placing the safety of Jesus in the highest priority."

The pale old man seemed to hesitate a moment. After resting, he raised his arm, alarmingly thin, to point weakly at the chest near his head board. "In the top drawer is a radio transponder which will allow you to approach the island without eliciting an armed response. Take it, Counselor. Guard it closely. It is the only one of its type."

Looking back at the assembly of men around his bed, he continued. "I bequeath one billion dollars to my Church with the proviso that it remain in this country. I bequeath one billion dollars to be distributed to all my direct employees, prorated against their salaries at the time of my death. All the remainder of my estate, which will be many billions of dollars, is to be placed in an irrevocable trust fund in favor of Jesus Robeles."

Once again the old man paused. Reaching for the sleeve of young Victor Santos he pulled ever so faintly until the attorney was almost face to face with him. "That trust fund will most likely be your life's work. Do you have any thought that you wish not to do this thing for me?" He coughed with the unmistakable rattle of one near death.

Victor Santos had been trying to regain his composure since these revelations had begun. He peered into the eyes of Senor Robeles and answered truthfully, "I will carry out your wish My Senor. If it takes my lifetime, I will see it done!"

Liban Bersannos leaned in close to the ear of the younger man, whispering something, then quickly withdrew. Victor Santos turned to the head of the legal division as if seeking an unspoken confirmation.

Then he knelt by the side of the bed and kissed the ring on the old man's hand. Robeles motioned his old counsel to assist. Bersannos pulled the four carat diamond off the old man and placed it on Santos' third finger. Robeles smiled as he seemed to drift back into an uneasy slumber.

Senor Vincente Robeles said no more in his lifetime. He received absolution for his sins and Extreme Unction. He passed before the first light of dawn and was buried quietly in the plot behind the castle with his wife.

Counselor Liban Bersannos died that fall on another rainy night. Father Riaz never quite recovered from Robeles' tale. He was sent by the Archdiocese into residency at the Monastery of St. Engulpius in the mountains west of Sao Paulo.