Acho que você está se referindo à Missão de Patrick Tilley
Eu nunca li, mas lembro de ter lido a sinopse nas costas há um loooooooo tempo atrás; começa com um homem carregando as mesmas feridas que Jesus aparecendo na moderna Manhattan de 1980.
Não consigo encontrar uma descrição da maior parte do enredo, além do que é dado na página web de Patrick Tilley para o romance:
What would you do if, through an unexpected twist of fate and time, you came face to face with Jesus of Nazareth? In the flesh. A living, breathing, three-dimensional figure with a disconcertingly casual manner. When you had pinched yourself to make sure that you weren't dreaming and found that he was still there, would you turn your back and walk away - or would you try to find out what he was doing so far from home?
That was the decision facing Leo Resnick, a smart young Manhattan lawyer, and his girl-friend, Dr Miriam Maxwell. Mission is Leo's record of his encounter with The Man. If you've ever looked up at the stars and wondered what it all means, this is the book you've been waiting for. Mission is the nearest you'll get to the Secret of the Universe this side of the Apocalypse.
The trip starts on Page One. Climb aboard.
Aqui está um trecho do capítulo 1:
I took a deep breath and looked at the body. Like Miriam had said, he hadn’t been blown away but he was still a mess. The man was about thirty to thirty-five years old, medium build, lean hard body. In general, his features were of the type the police label Hispanic. He had a swarthy complexion and his skin was deeply tanned. He had a beard and straggly, shoulder-length hair. Like a hippie who’d done time on a kibbutz. There was a gaping, two-inch wide stab-wound in his left side just under his rib cage but the most unsettling thing was the bruises and lacerations. The guy had had the shit beaten out of him, then taken one hell of a whipping. The skin on his back had been cut through to the bone and there were deep raw stripes on the backs of his thighs as well. It also looked as if his attackers had beaten him over the head with a nailed piece of wood. Miriam pointed to his feet. ‘See that?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, what are they - bullet wounds?’
‘No,’ replied Wallis. ‘Somebody drove a metal spike through them. Through his wrists too.’ He picked up an arm and showed me.
I swallowed hard. ‘Jeezuss! What kind of people would do something like this?’