Mission by Patrick Tilley Page A

few miles from Jerusalem,’ he said. ‘A place called Bethany. I was talking to my brother James and some of the Twelve – ’
    â€˜The disciples?’ I asked.
    â€˜Yes,’ he nodded. ‘My mother was there too. I walked out of the house expecting to be beamed up to the longship and – ’ He snapped his fingers. ‘ – there I was, outside this place.’
    I nodded sympathetically but tried to hold back on the concern. ‘The Book does mention your sudden disappearances in that period after the Resurrection, but the writers are a little hazy about your movements. Which is understandable. They weren’t there when it happened.’
    â€˜Have you read the New Testament?’ he asked.
    â€˜Not from cover to cover,’ I admitted. ‘But I know the general outline. And I can tell you one thing for sure. Nobody mentioned you had a sense of humour.’
    He smiled. ‘There were times when that was the only thing that kept me going.’
    â€˜Well, the laughs aren’t in the Book,’ I said. ‘But it’s still sold a lot of copies. From what you’ve already told me it’s clear they didn’t get anything like the whole story. But let’s face it, they’re only human. Now that you’re here, why don’t we use what time you’ve got to set the record straight? Let’s get as much down as we can, then you decide what you want to do with it.’
    â€˜Okay,’ he nodded. ‘Good idea …’
    It had to be. I’d been watching the bottle of wine. I’d had two glasses. He’d had six. And it was still full …

Chapter 3
    I left The Man in charge of the magic bottle and went and made myself a cup of coffee. At the back of my mind was a hazy memory of him doing something like this before, but I couldn’t remember whether it was with a cask of wine, a pitcher of water or a jar of oil. I phoned Miriam from the kitchen and asked her to bring me a copy of the O & NT. She told me she’d managed to talk her way off the Saturday night detail and would drive up in a borrowed car. She thought she would probably reach Sleepy Hollow around eleven and asked me what I was doing about food.
    I told her that I’d brought enough for the two of us and that I had the impression that our guest wasn’t too concerned about his calorie intake. It was, of course, the wrong thing to say.
    â€˜He drinks, doesn’t he?’ she said severely. ‘What makes you think he doesn’t eat?’
    â€˜Okay,’ I said. ‘If you want to play the Jewish mother, bring up a bag of bagels.’
    There was a withering silence at the other end of the line.
    â€˜Hullo,’ I said. ‘You still there?’
    â€˜I’ll see you later,’ she said. And hung up on me.
    I carried my coffee back into the living-room and resumed my recorded conversation with The Man. ‘You mentioned coming from another universe. I know that’s one of our word-concepts but, according to the dictionary, “universe” means “the totality of things which exist” – “another universe” is a contradiction in terms. So what exactly are we talking about?’
    â€˜A universe which lies beyond the boundaries of external reality – which you use as a yardstick to prove the “existence” ofeverything within it.’ He paused as he saw me frown. ‘Think of it this way – you’re familiar with the one you can see – ’
    â€˜You mean the one which falls within the spectrum of visible light?’
    â€˜Yes,’ he said. ‘The optical universe. And your radio-astronomers are busy mapping others composed of X-ray and other high-energy sources that give you, for instance, a very different picture of the sun. It’s no longer just a yellow disc broken by the occasional solar flare. You accept this invisible aspect of the sun because scientific