Project J (15 page)

Chapter 27:
 
Debriefing

It was quiet in the conference room as all present watched the surveillance video on the large screen.
 
Taken from a camera in one corner, it showed most of the courtyard.
 
Not high definition quality, but good enough to recognize the people.

The video showed an empty courtyard for a few seconds, then four men burst through the far door.
 
They held assault rifles at the ready and headed directly across the courtyard at a trot.
 
Suddenly two guards came into view along the right edge of the screen, drawing their guns.

From that point, things happened very fast.
 
Four assault rifles came down just as the guards were squaring off to fire.
 
The shots came almost together; one from the rightmost terrorist, and two from the guards.
 
One terrorist dropped his rifle and began collapsing to the ground, holding his stomach.
 
One guard jerked around, hit in the leg, his gun no longer aimed across the courtyard.
 
But his first shot had been true.
 
The rightmost terrorist was falling backwards, a small hole in his front and a larger one in his back, along with a spray of blood.

At that point, another figure came through the far door, Tamara, holding a .45 in her hands.
 
The two remaining terrorists, while still advancing, had their weapons up and began firing at the guards.
 
In less than a second both guards were dead.
 
A second after that, both terrorists were dead, shot by a good looking civilian girl.

The video screen went dark.

“Well, that pretty much tells the tale,” said Security Chief Manhusen.
 
“Tell me, Miss Graves, where did you learn to shoot?”

Tamara, still shaken from the experience, admitted weakly, “From my dad.
 
He was a county sheriff and insisted I learn how to shoot.
 
I liked it.
 
He taught me a lot about shooting.
 
But I never expected to have to actually shoot at a person.
 
It was more like a game.
 
How good could I get on the range – you know.”

“Well, you got pretty good,” admitted Stryker.

“Yes,” added Fielding.
 
“If those terrorists had gotten through that door, they would have been in Jesus’ quarters.”

“Was this just a terrorist act?
 
Something random?” asked Stryker.

“No,” replied Manhusen sternly.
 
“This was no random act of terrorism.
 
Those men had a target.”
 
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and opened it for all to see.
 
“The lead man has been identified as Khurram Murad, a member of an Islamic extremist group.
 
They had a hand-drawn map of the facility.
 
They knew where they were going.
 
They intended to kill or at least kidnap Jesus.
 
From their techniques, I’d say they intended to kill him.”

No one said anything for a minute as that fact was absorbed into stunned minds.

“What I don’t understand is why Islamic terrorists want to kill him?” said Juliette.
 
“He is a prophet in their religion.”

“They may be afraid of what he might say,” answered Fielding slowly.
 
“Or of how the faithful might react to him.
 
Hell, I’m surprised it wasn’t the Catholic Church!”

“They wouldn’t do that,” said a frowning Juliette.
 
“Would they?”

No one answered her question.

“Unless we want investigators from Homeland Security, the CIA, NAS, the Boy Scouts, and who knows who else to be knocking on our doors soon, we will have to keep a lid on this,” said Manhusen.

“How can we?” asked Fielding strongly.
 
“That group, whoever it was, may attack again.
 
If they know where Jesus is located, maybe they’ll crash an airliner into the building next time.”

“We will increase security at this facility,” Manhusen told them.
 
“A whole lot.
 
This has already been declared secure airspace by the FAA.
 
I’ll see that the nearest Air Force Base is notified to scramble jets if we get an intrusion.”

Fielding snorted in disbelief.
 
Frowns on some of the others apparently indicated they agreed that it would be too late by the time any jets got there.

“Meantime, I would rather that we do not try to relocate Jesus.
 
We can protect him better here than someplace else.
 
If you want, I’ll see if I can get an anti-aircraft gun put on the roof.”

Fielding looked as if he were about to speak again, but he said nothing.
 
Juliette O’Neill also looked aggrieved.

“We’ll put a better gate in front, one that will include concrete blocks a truck can’t drive through,” Manhusen continued.
 
“And more guards.
 
And security measures on that building so no one can just walk in.”

Dr. Stryker, who had been looking deep in thought, added, “I think there will be more security upgrades than that.
 
As soon as our government spooks hear about this, they’ll move in a division of soldiers to protect our precious Machine.
 
They think too highly of it.”
 
He paused to look around the table.
 
“They may not know about Jesus, but they will know of the attack and assume the target was the Machine itself.
 
So get ready for more security.
 
A mouse won’t be able to get in here.”

The meeting broke up after some plans were made to clean up the mess.
 
Dr. Fielding came over to Tamara as the others were leaving to say, “I want to thank you for your brave action.”

“It wasn’t really bravery,” she laughed weakly.
 
“If I had a second to think about it, I probably wouldn’t have done a thing.
 
In fact, when it was all over, I was trembling like a little child.
 
I even cried some.
 
That’s bravery for you.”

He smiled at her.
 
“Bravery, I believe, was once defined as being afraid but doing the job anyway.
 
You did it.”
 
He laughed.
 
“That makes you unique among people.
 
You actually saved Jesus Christ’s life!”

Chapter 28:
 
Planting a Bomb

The man walking down the corridor tried not to appear nervous but it was hard to do with his knees feeling weak and his stomach knotted up.
 
Although he was perfectly within his rights to be where he was, the fear that someone would stop him and ask what he was doing there was strong.
 
The tablet in his hand seemed to burn his flesh.
 
He had viewed what was recorded on it and had a fair idea what it was, even though he did not understand the words.
 
What the recording showed was innocent enough, but it was still as dangerous as a bottle of nitroglycerine.
 
To get caught with it would be at least the end of his professional career, if not worse.
 
But duty required he obey orders, a duty far beyond that owed to Chronodyne or any person.

He avoided crossing the courtyard because he knew of the security camera there, and even though it was the middle of the night, he did not want any record made of his visit.
 
It was important that no one knew it was he who delivered this dangerous tablet.
 
The side corridor bypassed the courtyard and allowed him to enter the apartment-like area where Jesus was living.
 
Pausing before the door, he felt his mouth going dry.
 
But then it usual did when he was in Jesus’ presence.
 
With a shaking hand, he reached for the doorknob.

Jesus was lying on the bed, eyes closed, apparently asleep – just as this man had hoped.
 
Moving very, very carefully, he slid across the room to the small table about six feet from the bed.
 
Ever so slowly he lowered the tablet to the table, taking care not to make a noise, although his heart was pounding so hard that the sound must surely wake the sleeper.
 
The tablet finally in place, he touched the button on the side that activated it.
 
A single word appeared on the screen, green letters on a black background, only one word, “Start,” inside a circle.

Backing away, his heart almost stopped when he bumped into the door.
 
But the sleeping figure did not move, and then the intruder was gone, closing the door behind him.

Chapter 29:
 
Disaster!

Tamara knew that something was wrong when she walked into the building.
 
It was mid-morning and she was entering the Project J building to see Dr. Myers, to ask him about another interview with Jesus.
 
The guards – there were two of them now – double checked her ID and seemed extremely nervous.
 
As she walked down a side corridor to Myers’ office, an assistant hurried by her, not even bothering to say hi.
 
When she reached the office, it was empty.
 
She was about to leave a note when the doctor entered.
 
He looked flushed and on edge, stopping suddenly when he saw her standing there.

“Miss Graves...” he began, and then halted as if he did not know what to say.

“Please, call me Tamara,” she said with a smile, but inside wondering what was upsetting the mild-mannered Jewish historian.

“Now is not a good time,” he began, and then stopped again.

“Dr. Myers!
 
What is wrong?”

With a sigh, he walked around behind his desk and settled into the chair wearily.
 
“Please, have a seat.”
 
When she was seated, he rubbed his forehead before speaking again.
 
“Something terrible has happened.”

“What?”

“You are aware how careful we have been to keep some knowledge from Jesus?
 
Well, someone gave Jesus a computer tablet.
 
On it was a video recording outlining the history of the Catholic Church, Christianity in general, and other historical events.
 
I have seen it!
 
If you wanted to create something that would upset Jesus, you could have done no better than what was on that tablet.”

“Why?
 
Why would some history upset him?” she wanted to know.

“Why?
 
Can’t you imagine?
 
He is a sensitive man, a truly religious man.
 
Can you imagine what he must have thought when he saw what had become of his teachings?
 
What has been done over the centuries in his name!”

Tamara felt herself grow cold.
 
Fielding and the others had been right to keep many things from Jesus; she had never disagreed with that.

“Can you imagine what he feels when he sees what the Catholic Church is today?
 
All the idolatry?
 
All the ornate churches.
 
Saint Peter’s Basilica?
 
The Vatican?
 
The Sistine Chapel?
 
He was a man who believed God did not want you to worship idols.

“Can you imagine what is going through his mind when he finds that his disciples – and many others – are prayed to as saints?
 
Or that his mother is revered as a holy virgin?
 
Look at the millions who worship the Pope!
 
And the wealth of the Catholic Church?
 
At the wars that have been fought over which is the true Christianity?
 
Or even over what was the true meaning of some of his words?”

He shook his head sadly.
 
“Just the fact that Rome is the capital of the massive church created to worship him?”

He rested his head on his hands, elbows on his desk.
 
“Whoever created that video was a sadistic bastard!
 
Oh, but he knew what he was doing.
 
Not only was it filled with visual images, it was narrated in Aramaic!
 
They found someone who speaks Aramaic to make sure that Jesus would understand every word.”

He looked up at her again, sadness in his eyes.
 
“Please...
 
Remember that Jesus is a first century Jew.
 
He was never anything else.
 
He believes in the Covenant, the Torah, all the rules thereof, and absolutely in God’s promise to his people.
 
He passed out on the cross believing that God would save him and that he would become the anointed one to lead his people into the Kingdom of God.
 
Now, he wakes up to find that two thousand years have passed and a massive church has grown up in his name but not teaching what he actually taught.
 
The Temple in Jerusalem is no more and the Jews have to fight for their existence almost every day.

“He went through so much when we fetched him to our time.
 
The unimaginable ordeal of the crucifixion, if nothing else.
 
We tried so hard to make this easy on him, not to shock him too much.”

For a few long seconds he said nothing.
 
Then, “This is nothing short of an attempt to destroy his fragile mind.”

“How is he taking it?” she had to ask.

“How?
 
He won’t even talk to me!
 
He just pointed to the tablet.
 
He looks like a man who is in shock.
 
His whole world is turned upside down, to say the least.
 
I think he blames me somehow.
 
Or all of us.”

“Let me talk to him,” she said softly.

“You?”
 
There was disbelief in his voice, but it was replaced by sadness. “Might as well.
 
Can’t make anything worse.
 
He likes you.
 
He told me so himself.”
 
He laughed sadly.
 
“Maybe partly because there were damned few blondes in that part of the world.”

As he rose slowly and reached for his cane, he advised her, “I think this is going to be an important conversation, not just chatting over lunch.
 
It is important that shades of meaning and context come across correctly.
 
I will try to translate the colloquialisms of his time and place into English but keep the original meaning as best I can.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she told him.
 
“Let’s see what we can do in the way of damage control,” she said firmly, rising from her chair.
 
“Come on.”