Free Jesus the Extraterrestrial - Origins by Leo Mark Page B

total control over his own mind and, thereby, able to perform the “miracles” which everyone talks about.
    Without a second thought, Thomas took the samples out of the microscope, recorded on a diskette the results of the blood tests and instructed the computer to delete the research he had done, as someone could come across it. He hurried to the phone, picked up and dialed the number of his father’s house.
    ‘Hi, at the moment we can´t come to the phone. Please leave a message and we´ll get back to you soon. Thanks,’ said his father’s voice recorded on the answering machine.
    ‘Dad, you´ve no idea what I´ve found out! I analyzed the blood in the cylinder and I found something sensational. It doesn´t belong to any species known on this planet. As a matter of fact the DNA of this blood has 48 chromosomes, while human blood has 46. Isn´t it fantastic? By the way, I´ve decided to try and create the clone. Call me as soon as you get this message. Bye.’

C HAPTER 8
    Brazil, 12th September 2001
    Francisco and Maria were saying goodbye to their children and grandchildren. They had just buried their youngest son at the back of the house - he had died the day before in the reservoir which surrounded the couple´s farm. The farm was in the interior of the state of São Paulo, in a small town called Assis.
    The boy, whose name was Davi and who was only eleven, had gone swimming in the reservoir as he often did, being an excellent swimmer. But on that day, the 11th September 2001, his father found him lifeless, lying on the bank of the reservoir. He had drowned. He usually went swimming alone, late in the afternoon, when dusk was falling. The family was distressed and hadn´t come to terms with the boy´s death.
    In that part of Brazil, principally in the country areas, it was usual for the wake and the burial to take place on the family´s land. Some of the poorer families weren´t even aware of the requirement to inform the authorities of the death of a relation and to obtain a death certificate; others, in their despair, simply forgot about it.
    After saying their goodbyes to the family members who had come for the wake, the couple took a bath and went to bed.
    A few hours later, around two a.m., a car could be heard arriving. Maria woke up thinking that one of her sons had come back. The car stopped in front of the veranda. Two men in black suits got out and started slowly ascending the steps of the veranda. It was 12th September 2001. The men were tall and blond and they knocked at the door of the Giroto family. Maria was already in the living room. Without hesitation she went to the door, thinking it was one of her sons. When she opened the door she felt afraid because the men were so tall, and because they looked nothing like her sons. Maria´s husband, hearing sounds of movement, went to the front door with his rusty shotgun in his hands.
    ‘Be calm, husband, them be pastors from the church.’ Maria thought this was who they were, and that they had heard of the son’s death and come for the wake.
    ‘What the hell do they want at this hour?’
    And then the men explained:
    ‘Lady, we aren´t pastors, but we´re here to talk about your son. We heard that he passed away and we´d like to offer our condolences,’ said one of the men.
    ‘We´re here because there is a very delicate matter we have to discuss,’ said the other man, talking quietly and surely, which gave the elderly couple confidence and they asked them in.
    ‘Sit down, please, gentlemen. I´ll get yer some coffee,’ said Maria with her country accent, typical of that part of Brazil.
    ‘Lady, that won´t be necessary, we won´t take up much of your time.’
    ‘Tell us then, please, how can we be of help?’
    ‘Lady, we´re Americans, we work for an American agency known as the CIA.’
    The man showed them his badge.
    ‘Ah, I´ve heard of yer, you´re famous, always turning up in the movies. Yer must be very sad at what happened to those