the Atlantic to deal with, and she promptly returned to them.
London underground Same day
Through the crucifixion and the resurrection, he and the collective would come to find Christ on His return in the year 2001 during the true millennium, which hovered over all of life, time, and space now. Poised now, the coming end of life on Earth as mankind had come to know it, accept it, and to generally assume it.
The crucifixion lived vividly in their collective mind. They were all of one mind now and forever. This pleased the mind they shared, and it pleased him, their leader.
They found-and rightly so-that even with failed resurrections, after each new crucifixion, they had grown in strength, resolve, and a sense of power and well-being, and so the collective marched onward as if to war in the battle as Christ's good and stalwart soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, hand to hand, will to will.
“In the name of the Father,” they chanted their mantra, “and in the name of the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
They longed to complete what they'd begun, realizing that all must step cautiously; but when the time came, all would be revealed to everyone, indeed to the world.
After all, the true millennium cometh… The year 2001 loomed before all of mankind, and with it the Second Coming as prophesied by the Bible itself and by God Himself. Soon they would be among Them-Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. For He and His Son would return to smite the insidious evil of the species.
The collective meant to be part of the glorious Second Coming. They had been told-a whisper from God and His legion of saints-to do His bidding. They need only to find the Chosen One, see to His crucifixion, and watch for the dead to rise. Again the Kingdom of Heaven would be proved to be the mightiest of all powers in the universe, and thus the blood of the world would fuse into a single, great ocean from which new life would come-reborn, rejuvenated, revitalized, all sin at ground zero. It meant the Rapture and the end of the world as mankind knew it. But first they must find Him, the Son of God, in whatever guise He chose. Of one thing the collective mind was certain, that however He came-whether it be in the form of a woman, a man, or a child-He would make Himself known to the Chosen few who worshipped Him as none other on Earth had ever worshipped Him before. He would show Himself by once again ascending the cross and rising again in a glorious new resurrection.
God had told their leader so, and their leader exuded purity, piety, honesty, accuracy, correctness, and absolute power- so much so that he could not be questioned in his motives. Nor could he ever be denied, nor ever be accused of wrongdoing or unjust or unholy thoughts.
His thoughts, channeled as they were from God the Father, could not be denied. His thoughts were pure, his motive was to combat evil as he found it, where he found it.
This life stood for something. This man lived the exemplary life of pure goodness.
The fact that the first choice for crucifixion hadn't resulted in resurrection did not deter either him or his followers. They together stood in the shadow of God, and God made it clear that, while they could not fully comprehend or fathom His plan, a plan for Katherine O'Donahue and a plan for them all did indeed exist. He promised that Katherine's sacrifice must lead to more such sacrifices until the purest of heart stepped forward to accept the cross as reward and redemption for all mankind.
Their leader reminded them that what they'd done to Katherine O'Donahue was preordained, that despite the fact that her resurrection hadn't come about, they had succeeded in following the wishes and whispers of the Supreme Being. Katherine remained part of a larger plan. They were told they mustn't for a moment think that they worked for God out of primordial fear but rather from a timeless, ageless, and untainted faith.
TWO
Cave ab homine unius libri-Beware the man of one book.
FBI Crime Lab, Quantico, Virginia September 21, 2000
When Dr. Jessica Coran first heard of the body in the Chesterfield, New Jersey, junkyard she'd had no idea that it would hold so much fascination for her and her team. Nor did she anticipate the red tape and confusion in shipping the body that would delay its arrival for ten days. But here it lay now on her cutting slab, the most intriguing and colorful body she had ever cut into. Even after the rents and tears, even in death, and even after freezing-the body had been shipped in a refrigerated truck along with an array of needed supplies and chemicals- even after all this, she found the complete, head-to-toe tattoo artwork covering the murder victim mesmerizing.
Indeed, this utter fascination with the intricate detail and artistic lines depicting a myriad of symbols, animals, plants, and teeming insect life, as well as bizarre, alien life-forms, all went toward Jessica's dilemma. She hated destroying the artwork that was this “body electric” any further than it had already been obliterated by some hundred-plus gaping wounds, dog bites. The vicious dogs, long since destroyed by local New Jersey police, had torn away whole patches of the masterwork. One of the man's arms had been completely chewed off, the limb having been packed in the ice-coffin that John Doe traveled in.
Initially the dice-up work had been fast and easy because the body remained bricklike, and a frozen cadaver made for easier sectioning for microscopic analysis, be it the brain or any other major organ.
Jessica and John Thorpe-J. T. to his friends-both found it difficult to hold back, to allow their two young assistants, Kenneth Holbrook and Yon Chen to do the precision work with the new laser technology that allowed for efficient sections to be cut from the major organs. Both Holbrook and Chen eagerly passed the laser-connected to the latest computer-imaging software available-between them. Each assistant took separate organ cuts with mouths agape, both learning as the laser dissected John Doe's internal organs.
They soon finished the laser work, and J. T. instantly quizzed the neophytes, asking, “All right, now that you have sections of every major organ, Holbrook, Chen, what's next?” J. T. held the laser in his hand now, gently returning the wand back to its cradle attachment on the computer monitor.
Almost in tandem, like cartoon characters, Holbrook stammered an “I think… I think…” while Chen immediately said, “Blood and seminal fluid workup, I think.”
“Excellent, but none of that I think stuff. Every time anyone says those two words, it means they don't really know what they think. It's both a qualifying of your answer and a stalling tactic. It also makes you sound stupid. 'I think,' 'in my opinion,' 'it is my feeling.' Forget it. Simply state your facts without all the introductory stammering. Right, Holbrook?” replied J. T.
“I think so.”
“Damnit,” muttered J. T. as Jessica helplessly laughed behind her mask.
J. T. frowned, recalling how he'd earlier had the same discussion with Jessica because he'd seen and heard the president of the United States sounding silly by prefacing every damned remark at a news conference on NATO with I think. Jessica, for the benefit of the tape recording, loudly ordered a complete fluid workup, from semen to sweat, along with blood toxicology, all dissection and section work on the rack of organs called the viscera having been completed. Holbrook had logged in weight and appearance of each viscus as it had been surgically removed. Now with every laser cut, each slice coming off like a thin, large portion of salami, Chen bagged and labeled John Doe's specimens, using the number given her by the computer:
case # 348-119-2000.
As they worked and time ticked by, day turning to night, Jessica and J. T. discussed the recent frozen body of a prison inmate who had wanted to give something back to society, and so he had left his body to science-to the science of forensic medicine in particular. Out of this had come phenomenal new computer software, already proving invaluable to physicians everywhere.
The young interns had also heard the news, but they had no idea that the computer-imaging software they'd just used was the result of that unselfish act on the part of one lone prison inmate, a man named Albert Lawrence Kurlandinsky. Kurlandinsky had made headlines initially by one day walking calmly into his place of work-a JCPenney distribution warehouse-with a high-powered rifle. He opened fire on fellow employees and bosses, a spree murderer
