It was at this point in his life that Andrew began to ruminate on his extraordinary mental powers.

 Where had they come from?

 While he had not thought much about it for years, With Mahail picking up a lot of the load. Andrew now had a few leisure moments to just relax and think.

 "Madeline what do you say to three or four months on the Riviera?" The question caught her by surprise.

 "I thought that you are all tied up. It never occurred to me that we might . . . . . . . . I would love it. When can we leave?"

 "Not right this minute. I have some loose ends to tie off . . . . . . but soon."

 "I will need new clothes. It is warm down there."

 "Be sure and get a bathing suit that will make me the envy of every man on the beach."

 "I will only get a couple of items, now. Everything in the stores here is so glum.  I want to wait ‘til we are there and then get some really chic and fashionable things . . . . . . . . especially a sexy swim suit. I will get you so excited that . . . . . . . . . . "

 "You do that already," Andrew pulled her to him and covered her with little nibbles, gently unbuttoned her blouse and continued nibbling.

 "Oh, Andrew . . . . . . you are getting me so  . . . . . . Oh . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  I  . . need . . . . . it . . . . . now," she reached for him and grabbed him possessively.

 "You know, we will have plenty of time for this on the Riviera."

 "I know."

 Madeline was a woman of enormous passion, will, and talents that were not to be denied. She persisted.

 Andrew found time.
____________________________________

 Their plane gently descended into the Nice-Côte d'Azur International Airport. After clearing customs, they had baggage handlers transfer their luggage to a Lear jet to take them to Cannes. After the vast expanses of the United States and Russia, neither Andrew nor Madeline were prepared for the diminutive French Riviera. Their chartered jet was barely airborne when it started its descent into Cannes.

 Their limousine was waiting at the airport and despite the unexpectedly heavy traffic they were soon being escorted to their suite atop the four star Hôtel Majestic. The Majestic, an elegant palace, located in the heart of Cannes on the Croisette boulevard, and facing the sea, offered everything that they could possibly want.

 The gastronomic restaurant, Villa de Lys, and the Restaurant de la Plage offered gourmet cuisine the equal of any in the world.  The Hôtel Majestic also provided a private beach, night club, . . . . . . . .  and the Casino Croisette.

 It had been a while since either of them had been in a casino and both looked forward to a relaxing dinner followed by a profitable evening at the roulette tables.

 Madeline got turned on by her winning streak. Andrew just stood beside her and let her do the betting. He, of course, controlled the outcome and Madeline raked in the plaques. They did not expect to stay long enough in Cannes to give the house time to become suspicious, . . . .  not that they could do anything about it anyway.

 Madeline loved winning even when it was "fixed" . . . . . . . . especially when it was "fixed".

  Afterward, Madeline rewarded Andrew  for his part in her winning streak and left him too exhausted in the morning to get up before noon . . . . . but it was the tiredness of satisfaction and he was satisfied . . . . . . . . and then some.

 When they tried to do Cannes, it was clearly impossible. The nearby Palaise des Festivals was the center of activity of the Cannes Film Festival. When they opted to start their time on the Riviera in Cannes, neither had realized that the Film Festival would be in progress at that time or what a circus Cannes would become because of   it. Strolling around the city  was a most disquieting experience for both of them. There were so many people and uncomfortably close to them. There could be no rest and relaxation in Cannes except in their hotel where they were virtual prisoners.

 "Thank God we have the limo and driver booked for our entire stay. These crazy  movie people will be tying up everything on wheels for the next few days," Madeline was exasperated that neither of them had thought of the festival when making their plans because Cannes is synonymous with the Film Festival. "Why don't we drive up the coast to Antibes and spend a couple of nights there?"

 Andrew was agreeable so the following morning they made the drive. Antibes was a pleasant surprise. It is the home of the largest English-speaking population on the Riviera. Andrew was very fluent in Russian and Madeline was becoming so because, in Moscow, he had spoken to her only in Russian  . . . . . . . .  but to hear English spoken again . . . . it was the sound of home . . . . a home to which they could never return. There were even English television channels, and after a full day, it was a treat for Andrew to just prop up his feet and enjoy it. They settled into the Hòtel Ambassadeur and made it their base of operations for their daily excursions.

 Initially, Andrew called Mahail every night to check on things but Mahial was so competent that the calls became less and less frequent. In time, the entire operation was in Mahail's able hands and Andrew did not bother to call at all.

 Moving from resort to resort every few days had a decidedly calming effect on Andrew and Madeline noticed that he was more relaxed and carefree than he had been since they first met in Las Vegas.

 At dinner, she whispered in his ear,"I loved you the way you were, but now I like you, too. Do you understand the difference?"

 "I think so."

 "If you don't, I'll show you when we get back to our room," . . . .  and she did.

 Over the next several weeks, they made excursions to Nice, Cagnes sur Mer, Grasse, Beaulieu, and Monaco where the magnificent Monte Carlo Casino beckoned. Each had an incredible "lucky streak" every time they stopped at a roulette table.

 Back in their suite Andrew wondered aloud, "I wonder what it would be like to break the bank here at Monte Carlo . . . . . .  I could do it, you know."

 It would have to remain an unfulfilled fantasy. The publicity might prove deadly . . . . . . . . . . but both Andrew and Madeline wanted it so much they could taste it.

 Nearing the end of their vacation, they found themselves gravitating back to the English speaking environment of Antibes more and more often.
 It was there that Madeline excitedly called Andrew out of a warm bath to see what was on the TV.  "Hurry, hurry, its about you."

 He rushed out, still wet,  in one of the terry cloth robes provided for hotel guests.

 It was a program, one of a series produced in the US, about the world's most wanted criminals. This program was about Andrew.

 Andrew watched intently as Inspector George Bennet explained what he had done in LA and Las Vegas.

 "That's the bastard who kidnaped me out of Las Vegas."

 "I didn't know you did all those things he is saying you did," said Madeline, with a quiver of fear in her voice.

 "Well, You know how they blow things up," Andrew brushed it off.
 The narrator of the program cut back to Bennet from time to time.

 There were pictures of him on John Pearson's video tapes, and  the news photo taken at Zepp's funeral.

 Bennet then showed a side by side image of him at the funeral and a still frame from Pearsons' surveillance tape.

 "These pictures show that he was present when the fire started and he is with the Russian Mafia."

 Bennet saved the most puzzling for last.

 "The people who died in the fire at the laboratory commissioned a computer graphics expert to determine what the image on the Shroud of Turin might look like with a modern haircut, and no beard."

  Andrew stared at the reconstructed picture derived from the photos of the Shroud, an incredible likeness.

 Finally the narrator interviewed the computer graphics expert who reconstructed the image.

 It suddenly hit Andrew. He had long ago figured out that he was a clone, but of whom. Now he knew.

 "I  was cloned from blood on the Shroud of Turin."

 Andrew doubted that the image could have been that of Christ  . . . . . . but how else could he have acquired his incredible powers? Regardless of who had been wrapped in that Shroud, the idea that anyone might clone another individual having powers equal to his was unthinkable. The Shroud would have to be destroyed.

  Andrew left his plans for domination of the worlds financial and political scenes on the back burner and in the capable hands of Mahail.

 He made the destruction of the Shroud his top priority. Turin could be reached by car and they had a limousine and driver. It was the only thing to do and it had to be done now.
___________________________

 Andrew should have remembered what happened when he was the number two man in the Russian Mafia. The itch to become number one had to be scratched . . . . . . . .  and Mahail Kirov was getting the itch. He should have been tuning in on Kirov. An oversight like that could be very dangerous, even fatal.

  Mahail was getting very comfortable in Andrew's slippers and would not give them up easily upon Andrew's return but Andrew was becoming too comfortable himself and had his mind on everything but business.

 Mahail Kirov was quick to take control once Andrew was out of sight. He would not have been so eager to do so if he had know that Andrew had the power to tune in on his thoughts but Andrew was, for the first time in a long time, disengaged from the daily operation of the mob and enjoying every minute of it. Mahail was free to plot and scheme without fear of reprisal.

 The reckoning would come when Andrew returned . . . . .best to take care of matters now . . . . and not wait for that day.

 Mahail gathered those of unquestioned loyalty to his side and proposed that a hit squad be sent to find Andrew and terminate him.

 Let the old KGB leftovers do the job. They all disliked Andrew anyway, for edging out the Russians for control.

 Mahail sent out agents to determine Andrew's initial destination. They reported back that he had taken an Aeroflot flight to Nice and had chartered a Lear jet to Cannes. It should not be hard to pick up the trail there.

 The six man hit squad headed by former KGB muscle man, Alexi Duchokov, could not carry weapons aboard their plane but they would need them on arrival, so the advance agents made arrangements with the French black market for the purchase of six Uzis for the squad. Mahail was informed as to the pickup point and this information was passed on to Duchokov. After picking up the Uzis, they would prepare an ambush and catch Andrew in a withering crossfire. There would be no escape.

 The hit squad staked out Andrew's suite in the Hôtel Majestic. That was as close as they would get to him for now. The excursions that he and Madeline were taking to points all over the Côte d'Azur were all based on spur-of-the-moment decisions. There was absolutely no way the hit squad could find out where they were. . . . . . and now they were about to depart France for Italy.
__________________________________

 Eventually the realization struck Christopher, "What if another person were to be cloned from the Shroud of Turin, another person with powers equal to mine?"

 It would not do to have two equally powerful world religious leaders. More people had been killed in the name of religion than any other cause in history. The Shroud would have to be destroyed. This matter was too urgent to delay a single moment.

 Christopher broke off his evangelical tour and returned to the headquarters of Geneticraft International in Rome. David Torrelli was surprised to see him. David and his team had launched Christopher's tour with high hopes that the word of Jesus Christ would be spread far and wide and here he was  . . . . . back  . . . .  and so soon.

 Christopher explained his reason for returning, expressing fear that a calamitous religious war might break out if there were to be another clone from the Shroud.

 Torrelli asked Christopher to wait in his office while he consulted with the other members of the team who had cloned and nurtured Christopher. As they discuss the problem, Torrelli points out the fact that if his accelerated aging rate continued, Christopher would have a very short life. And what if something happened to him before his work was completed? It had really just started and he must complete Christ's work.

 No. They might need a backup so they would have to protect the Shroud at all costs. Christopher was eavesdropping, using his telepathic powers, this was one of those situations for which all of his moral training had not prepared him. His decision was based on pragmatic logic.

 The greater good must be served.

 Christopher walked out of Torrelli's office, stopped in front of the building, . . . . . .  turned . . . . ..and watched the building burst into intense flames . . . . ..just as Andrew had done at The Project Complex.

 Destruction was complete. There were no survivors and nothing was left but grey ash.

 Destruction of the Shroud was now an imperative for Christopher.

 He set out immediately for Turin.
______________________

 Alexi Duchokov, leader of the Russian hit squad was becoming impatient. He and his men had the Hôtel Majestic under careful scrutiny. From time to time they checked out the casino, the dining rooms, and other possible locations but there was no sign of either Andrew or Madeline. Alexi took a calculated risk that Andrew might learn of their presence and guess why he was there. He warily approached the hotel desk manager, "I am a friend of Mr. Andrew Kreist and I understand he is registered here."

 The manager pecked at the computer and replied, "I'm sorry, he is registered here and is still, technically, a guest of the hotel, but about a month  ago he had all of his belongings and luggage removed from his room and shipped to the Hòtel Ambassadeur in Antibes, Juan de Pins. He did not indicate when he plans to return to Cannes."

 Alexi muttered an invective under his breath.

 "I beg your pardon?"

 "Sorry, just talking to myself."

 Alexi hurried back to his group and laid it all out for them. They had been watching the wrong rabbit hole and must waste no  time getting to Antibes. All six of them grabbed their belongings and weapons and piled into their rented Peugeot.
__________________________________

 As he had been directed to do, the manager of the Hôtel Majestic called the  Hôtel Ambassadeur and left a message for Andrew Kreist, but it arrived too late. He and Madeline had already departed.
___________________________________

 Andrew was in a serious mood as his limo left Antibes. He had determined that Turin did not have a decent hotel but Milan was not that far from Turin. Perhaps they should stay in Milan and make a side trip to Turin to do what had to be done. By the time their limo reached the decision point, Andrew's mind was made up.

 "Pull into the next rest stop."

 The chauffeur complied.

 While Madeline was fixing up her face, Andrew called the Hilton in Milan and made the necessary arrangements.
____________________________________

 Once again, in Antibes, Alexi opted to risk an inquiry at the desk.

 "Sorry, Monsieur, Mr. Kreist checked out yesterday."

 "What? . . . . . . . . . Where did they go?"

 "I do not know, Monsieur, he did not leave a forwarding address."

 A whispered string of Russian invectives.

 The clerk ignored the profanity," . . . . .But, I marked up a map for him to show the routes to Torino and Milano. He might have gone to one of them, Monsieur."

 Alexi turned to leave and as an afterthought turned back to the desk.

 Do you have another one of those maps?

 "But of course, Monsieur."

 "Then mark it up for me," it was more of a demand than a request.

 The desk clerk retrieved a map of northern Italy and marked the routes to Turin and Milan.

 Alexi  rudely snatched the map from the clerk's hands and stormed out of the hotel.

 The gang piled back into the Peugeot while Alexi glowered at the map as only a Russian can glower. Two choices . . . . . . . . which to take?

 The routes are identical for a while. I will make up my mind before we reach the fork.

 "Ok, just drive."

  The wheel man gives him a puzzled look.

 "That way, you idiot, that way," Alexi gestured in a generally easterly direction,"That way," and scrunched down into his seat.
__________________________________________

 After a shower and a brief nap, Andrew and Madeline decided to have their dinner in their room. Room Service food is never very good and especially after the wonderful French cuisine to which they had become accustomed. It was overcooked and cold, but Madeline was not put off by it. Andrew had hardly tasted his when Madeline began offering delights that took his mind completely off of food. She relentlessly pursued her sensual satisfactions and they took a lot of satisfying. When it was over, Andrew was too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

 The following morning, they got away early, grabbed some coffee and croissants en route and arrived in Turin in plenty of time to reconnoiter the cathedral. There were many people there to see the Shroud. That would present a problem. He could not control all of their minds at once and someone might recognize him.  Not that it really mattered. After all. He was one of the most wanted criminals in the world . . . . . . . . .but he just didn't want any unnecessary complications.

 Andrew had to think this over.

 Perhaps the evening might be better.

 Andrew did not care one way or the other if innocent people were killed or injured. The only thing of import was that the Shroud be destroyed. He walked all around in the cathedral, making note of anything and everything that might affect the outcome of his attack on that mysterious piece of linen.

 He checked out the bulletproof case in which the Shroud was displayed. That would present no problem. By this time tomorrow it and its contents would be nothing but a pile of grey ash.

 He and Madeline decided to explore the sights of Turin to kill some time.
_______________________________

 "Alexi!" the mobster was out of breath, "You won't believe this. What are the chances that we would find him so quickly?"

 "Where? Where is he? "

 "Just strolling along right over there, . . . . .by the big church. Come. I'll show you."

 "Where?"

 "Right there," he points, "See, he has his woman with him."

 "OK, Keep an eye on him. I will get the rest of the guys and get the Uzis from our place and be right back."

 Alexi brought the rest of the gang, now heavily armed and the all sat in the  sandwich shop watching.

 "Where is he now?"

 "Back inside of the church.  They come out and walk away from time to time but keep coming back to the church."

 "There must be something real interesting in there."

 "OK, here is what we will do. Stanislav, you go in the church and find out what he is doing in there and then come back here."

 Stanislav returned a few minutes later,"He and the woman are just sitting there looking at that big glass box at the front of the church. It looks like they mean to stay there for a while."

 "Anyone else in there?"

 "Just a bunch of priests and nuns over in one corner, praying."

 "Lets just hope that he stays there. We will go at him from all sides and get him in a crossfire."

 "What about the woman?"

 "Screw her. If she gets it, its her fault for being with him."

 As the mobsters worked their way down the side aisles, Andrew started to sense danger. He began getting telepathic signals that all was not well.

 There are several of them  . . . . . . . .  thinking in Russian. They are planning to ambush me.
________________________________

 Christopher arrived just as the evening vespers began. He wished that the priests and nuns would get through the vespers and leave. He did not wish to harm them but the Shroud, that abominable scrap of linen, had to be destroyed. Hopefully, they would leave soon so he could get to the business of destruction. Christopher sat in a pew that gave him a good view of the protective case that held the Shroud.

 Christopher, of course, could sense the nervous thoughts of the Russian hit men but, while multilingual, he had no experience with the Russian language and was unaware of the threat that these men represented.
______________________________

 Andrew glanced around the cathedral trying to pick out all of the assassins. He whispered to Madeline, "We are in danger. When I tell you to get down, get down."

 It wasn't the way Alexi planned it. It just happened. The hit men were not all in position when one of them, nervously fingering the trigger of his Uzi, accidentally fired a short burst that knocked out one of the stained glass windows. Suddenly bullets were flying everywhere. Andrew shoved Madeline down on the pew and pointed his finger quickly at each of the assassins. Bolts of purple lightning crackled across the room and the assassins crumpled to the floor. He got all of them but one.

 That one saw Christopher, and mistook him for Andrew. Christopher was quicker. He took out the last assassin with a similar lightning bolt from his fingertip.

 Christopher and Andrew both jumped to the same conclusion. Up to this point, each had been unaware of the others existence, at least as a Titan of enormous powers.  In the confusion of the moment, each concluded that another clone had been generated to protect the Shroud and each concluded that the other was the protector.

 The protectors had to be destroyed.

 Andrew formed in his hand an immense ball of electrical energy and hurled it at Christopher. Luckily for Christopher, Andrew reverted to thinking in English, a language in which Christopher was very proficient, so he knew Andrew's every thought.

 Recognizing his advantage, Christopher did his thinking in Hebrew. A language totally foreign to Andrew.

 As Andrew hurled the ball of energy at him, Christopher levitated himself.  The ball surged beneath him, vaporized a stained glass window, and brilliantly illuminated the darkening sky over Turin. Christopher responded with a ball of fire that struck Andrew's left arm leaving it a dangling chunk of well done meat.

  Andrew, in shock, did not feel the pain of his injury, but, driven by pure instinct and rage, developed a huge crackling ball of energy in front of him and directed it at Christopher who was not quick enough to retain his advantage. In a last desperate act, he unleashed a similar packet of electricity at Andrew just as Andrew's projectile enveloped and totally incinerated him.

 On this level playing field it could end only one way, Andrew was vaporized by Christopher's missile.

 Yellow, blue, purple, and green electrical discharges continue to crackle and sputter inside and outside of the cathedral for several minutes, then gradually subside.

 All that was left of Andrew and Christopher was two small piles of grey ash.

 The assassins were all dead, as was Madeline who was struck by a stray bullet.

 The bulletproof polycarbonate case protecting the Shroud had been hit by several rounds from one of the Uzis but the Shroud was unharmed.

 When the Italian police arrived, the priests and nuns were blabbering unintelligibly.

 What had they witnessed , . . miracles or something else? They were not at all certain what they had seen. It was too much to try to describe.

 Within a week, the Italian police had identified Madeline and quickly assumed, with the help of the LAPD, that one of the piles of ashes had been her lover, Andrew Kriest. They had no idea who the other pile of grey ash might have been.

 Pictures of Andrew Kreist used in the TV program about the world's most  wanted criminal were sent to Italy and the nuns and priests identified both of the deceased from these pictures. They said that they appeared twins or perhaps brothers with a small age difference but the pictures could have been of either of them.
__________________________________

 Christopher's followers were baffled by his disappearance from the world's religious scene. The most fervent of them truly believed that he was Christ reborn and that he alone could bring love and peace to a torn and troubled planet. What had happened to their Savior?

 When the television specials on the demise of Andrew, the world's most wanted criminal, hit the screens, they recognized Christopher in the computer enhanced photo of the face on the Shroud . . .  and knew. Christ had indeed returned and saved mankind from the most vile and evil creature ever to walk the earth, and again, had paid with his life for man's transgressions. Nothing would ever convince them otherwise. Twice in two thousand years he had died for us.

 What greater love . . . . . . .
______________________________
 
 

 Bennet is discussing the events of the previous day with  the Signature Killer Task Force, "I know that several credible witnesses positively identified them from the photos and the computer-enhanced picture that we provided but there were two of them. The woman who was killed in the gunfire was positively identified as Madeline Belvoire, Andrew Kreist's lover, so one of them probably was our man but I am just not comfortable with it. My God! Two of them ? What if there are more?"

 One of Bennet's Signature Killer task force is completing his report, "Inspector, when we checked out Dr. Goodenough's apartment we found a frozen test tube of what appears to be blood. Remember? They still have it over in the Cryogenics Lab. The label on it says ‘Andrew'. What do you want me to do about it? Maybe it is important."

 "Just leave it there for now. When the word spreads that he is dead, she will probably surface again . . . . . . . . we can check with her then and find out what she wants us to do with it."
____________________________________________

 When Natalie and John learned of Andrew's death, they returned to Los Angeles.

  Natalie returned to academia and became head of the new Department of Genetic Engineering at Berkeley.

 She learned of the recovery of her suitcase from TWA Flight 800 and arranged for it to be shipped to her. Everything in it was moldy . . . . . smelly . . . .  ruined.

 She threw it all into the trash  . . . . . . . . all except her diary of the cloning effort. She cleaned it up as best she could, carefully separated the pages and started reading it. "How could I have missed this?  . . . . .. and this?  . . . . what we should have done was . . . .  so many small things that went unnoticed  . . . . . . . . .if only we had done it differently  . . . . . . . .  but what's done is done  . . . . . . no way to go back."

 John reopened MAXXX Security.

 John and Natalie are planning marriage to finally formalize the arrangement under which they have lived since the disastrous events at the Project Complex.

 All appears to be back to normal.  But . . . .

      The Shroud survives.

      And . . . . . . . . .

      The phone rings at Natalie's desk at Berkeley.

     "Hello, Dr. Goodenough? Inspector Bennet, LAPD. here. We are still holding,  in our Cryogenics Lab, a test tube of frozen blood that we recovered from you apartment. It is labeled ‘Andrew'. . . . . . . . . Hello . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Hello . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 Dr. Goodenough?. . . . . . . . . . . .

 Are you there?. . . . . . . . . . . . ."
 

_________________________________________________________
 
 

Back to Start of Part 11