The Messiah Code by Michael Cordy Page B
Authors: Michael Cordy
Tags: Fiction, General, thriller, Fiction - General, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Genetic engineering, Christian fiction, Technological, Adventure stories, Fiction - Espionage, Medical novels, English Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Brotherhoods, Jesus Christ - Miracles
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Preacher looks like. Even the film of Olivia's shooting just shows a guy in a big coat, wrapped up against the cold. But they're convinced that sooner or later he'll leave a genetic trace of some kind at one of his crimes. And when he does they want to use Gene
Genie to summon up his likeness. I want to help them. How's the latest prototype doing?"
The Gene Genie software was a second-generation add-on to the Genescope software. The current Genescopes could give a good physical description of a person from their DNA: color of skin, hair, and eyes as well as ethnic type, probable height and build. The Gene Genie software went one step further. Building on the early nineties concept of developing computer-generated photo-fits, using input from witnesses, Gene Genie was intended to create a three-dimensional hologram of a subject built up entirely from his or her genes.
Jasmine opened the laptop in front of her and called up the critical path for the project. "It's almost finished," she said. "The latest timetable puts it at being ready for Beta testing in ten weeks."
Tom frowned. "If you made it top-dollar priority and threw money at the problem, how soon could you have it finished?"
"A month. Five weeks. Assuming we don't have any major glitches. But it'll cost."
"It doesn't matter," Tom said. "Spend whatever you need to get it operational. But make it four weeks."
Jack looked at him. No doubt thinking about the millions they would have to spend to bring the project forward a few weeks. "What's the rush, Tom? We've got a monopoly on the software. And you don't really think this'll help catch Olivia's killer, do you?"
"At least we're doing something."
Jack looked as if he was about to argue, but then he leaned back in his chair with a shrug. "Okay. Okay. But whoever this Preacher guy is it'll take more than a ghostmaking machine to catch him. He's been around for over thirteen years and nobody's come close." Jack sat forward and looked him in the eye. "Shit, Tom, the guy's a ghost already."
FIVE
A month later, February 2, 2003
Beacon Hill
Boston
T om Carter poured his third cup of black coffee, and watched the clock ticking away in the quiet of the kitchen. It was five fifty-eight in the morning; not even Marcy Kelley, their housekeeper, was up yet.
Seven weeks, four days, and six hours had now elapsed since Olivia's death--he often wondered when he would stop measuring it so precisely--but still the authorities were no closer to finding her killer. Apart from the Gene Genie software, which was now almost completed, the only glimmer of hope Tom could see was that the FBI were convinced he was still a target. If they were right, then Carter thought there was a chance the bastard could be caught by the agents and police watching over him.
The thought of being stalked by such a killer was frightening, but any concern for his own life was overshadowed by his fear for Holly's. Moment by moment he was aware of the even more implacable killer stalking his daughter. Today, after weeks of work, he would know whether one of his team's key experiments had been successful, and whether he had at least a hope in hell of finding a cure in time.
He stood, picked his crumpled jacket up from the back of his chair, and left the kitchen. Walking across the large
Chinese rug that covered much of the hall, he made his way to the oak staircase. At the top of the stairs he straightened his injured leg and rubbed the area just above his knee. He would need an operation to cure his limp completely, but it was hardly a priority. He gently pushed open Holly's door, preparing to tiptoe inside without disturbing her, when he was surprised by a bright desk lamp shining directly at the door.
"Hi, Dad," said Holly, her spiky blond hair bent with sleep. She sat at her desk in a baggy green WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT? T-shirt, tapping away at her computer.
Tom blinked away the dazzle and ruffled her hair. "What are you doing up so
Genie to summon up his likeness. I want to help them. How's the latest prototype doing?"
The Gene Genie software was a second-generation add-on to the Genescope software. The current Genescopes could give a good physical description of a person from their DNA: color of skin, hair, and eyes as well as ethnic type, probable height and build. The Gene Genie software went one step further. Building on the early nineties concept of developing computer-generated photo-fits, using input from witnesses, Gene Genie was intended to create a three-dimensional hologram of a subject built up entirely from his or her genes.
Jasmine opened the laptop in front of her and called up the critical path for the project. "It's almost finished," she said. "The latest timetable puts it at being ready for Beta testing in ten weeks."
Tom frowned. "If you made it top-dollar priority and threw money at the problem, how soon could you have it finished?"
"A month. Five weeks. Assuming we don't have any major glitches. But it'll cost."
"It doesn't matter," Tom said. "Spend whatever you need to get it operational. But make it four weeks."
Jack looked at him. No doubt thinking about the millions they would have to spend to bring the project forward a few weeks. "What's the rush, Tom? We've got a monopoly on the software. And you don't really think this'll help catch Olivia's killer, do you?"
"At least we're doing something."
Jack looked as if he was about to argue, but then he leaned back in his chair with a shrug. "Okay. Okay. But whoever this Preacher guy is it'll take more than a ghostmaking machine to catch him. He's been around for over thirteen years and nobody's come close." Jack sat forward and looked him in the eye. "Shit, Tom, the guy's a ghost already."
FIVE
A month later, February 2, 2003
Beacon Hill
Boston
T om Carter poured his third cup of black coffee, and watched the clock ticking away in the quiet of the kitchen. It was five fifty-eight in the morning; not even Marcy Kelley, their housekeeper, was up yet.
Seven weeks, four days, and six hours had now elapsed since Olivia's death--he often wondered when he would stop measuring it so precisely--but still the authorities were no closer to finding her killer. Apart from the Gene Genie software, which was now almost completed, the only glimmer of hope Tom could see was that the FBI were convinced he was still a target. If they were right, then Carter thought there was a chance the bastard could be caught by the agents and police watching over him.
The thought of being stalked by such a killer was frightening, but any concern for his own life was overshadowed by his fear for Holly's. Moment by moment he was aware of the even more implacable killer stalking his daughter. Today, after weeks of work, he would know whether one of his team's key experiments had been successful, and whether he had at least a hope in hell of finding a cure in time.
He stood, picked his crumpled jacket up from the back of his chair, and left the kitchen. Walking across the large
Chinese rug that covered much of the hall, he made his way to the oak staircase. At the top of the stairs he straightened his injured leg and rubbed the area just above his knee. He would need an operation to cure his limp completely, but it was hardly a priority. He gently pushed open Holly's door, preparing to tiptoe inside without disturbing her, when he was surprised by a bright desk lamp shining directly at the door.
"Hi, Dad," said Holly, her spiky blond hair bent with sleep. She sat at her desk in a baggy green WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT? T-shirt, tapping away at her computer.
Tom blinked away the dazzle and ruffled her hair. "What are you doing up so
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