Authors: C. R. Daems
I locked up, turned off the lights,
and made my way into the backroom, lost in thought. Midway into the room, I
froze. Sheila and a man were in the room. Something had changed since the last
time I looked at her future, because I hadn't seen this.
"Good evening, Mambo Renee,"
a tall, athletic looking man said. He stood holding one of the books he had
removed from my bookshelf. Sheila stood leaning against the back door.
"I've always known dealing with you was dangerous—your intelligence,
ability to tell the future, and dedication to Vodou. Oh, and those rings of
yours. Sheila, if you would collect Renee's rings. We wouldn't want anyone to
get hurt, would we?" He smiled as Sheila walked over to me and held out
her hand, looking alert and ready to move.
"After watching the tape of
your fight with the MS666 gang members for hours, I concluded you hadn't caused
the heart attacks using a Bagua technique, so I had a friend do a blood workup
of your dead attackers. And guess what they found—poison. Poison meant a
delivery system, so I spent another hour reviewing the fight. When you know
what you are looking for, it's easy to see." He held out his hand and Sheila
brought him the five rings she had collected from me. He moved to my table and sat
examining each one. "Very clever. Whoever made these two rings is very
talented." He pushed them to one side.
"Now as I was saying about you
being dangerous. Your ability to see the future meant we had to be careful with
whom you interfaced. For example, Ken was a mistake since it enabled you to
identify Mr. Willis—the cigar man. Then there was your intelligence. We
had to be careful not to let you go on the offensive—like you did. That
was very clever the way you trapped Sheila, and inevitable once you stopped
thinking of yourself as a victim. And then your determination not to let anyone
abuse your...gift. We had to worry you might consider our objective...evil and
decide suicide was your only choice—like your grandmother. The people who
approached your grandmother weren't evil, just zealots who thought in terms of
force because their task was in the service of God." He held up his hand
before I could say anything. "They were wrong."
"Mr. Black, I presume?" I
said and looked to Sheila who stood expressionless.
"Father...Black, Mambo Renee,"
he said and rose and walked to my stove, put water in my kettle, and turned on
the gas under it. "If you wouldn't mind making us some tea, I will explain
what I want, and why you may want to consider helping."
After seeing Sheila shake her head,
I got two mugs from the cabinet and placed them on the table along with milk
and sugar. By that time the water was boiling, and I poured it into my teapot
along with two tablespoons of black tea and placed it on the table. As I stood
waiting for the tea leaves to seep, my mind tried to come to grips with the
situation. Mr...Father Black had changed my options by forcing the end game.
"And if I don't want to
help?" I asked.
"I had hoped for a little more
time, but you and your friends have forced me to close down communications with
Sheila. Their NSA idea was very creative and would have moved them several
steps closer to me if I hadn't had connections in the NSA. But on reflection,
that may have worked out for the best. I think they have gone about this in all
the wrong ways, beginning with Mambo Eshe. That was most regrettable. She was a
good woman."
"Who you murdered!" I said
through gritted teeth.
"We sinned against her and
will be held accountable, yes. Murdered, no. They may have threatened to harm
you, but they didn't. A threat isn't an action. People, even good people,
threaten many things that they seldom carry through on." He poured the tea
into the two cups, added milk and sugar in his cup, and leaned back sipping it.
I picked up my cup and could barely restrain from throwing it at him.
I wondered if he dismissed the
other deaths so readily. They may not have been good, as my granny had been,
but he did not have the right to lead them into evil and then execute them. But
I was not going to debate good and evil with this...zealot."
"What do you want me to
do?" I finally asked.
"It's a simple arrangement
which benefits us both. You help my friend; we pay you five million dollars;
and you will never hear from us again." He smiled. The five million was a
nice touch if I was greedy like...the cigar man or Sheila or... I doubted Father
Black cared about money. It was only a means to an end.
"And what do I have to do for
your friend?"
"If I understand correctly,
Vodou is partly based on the Catholic religion," he said and waited until I
nodded. "My friend is a cardinal and the head of a very devout chapter of
the church, Opus Dei, of which I'm a member. We believe the church has strayed
from its teaching over the years. He's a well-respected cardinal and will be a viable
candidate for Pope when the next papal conclave convenes. We would ask you to
merely help him convince a few American cardinals of his...ability to see into the
future. There will be no murders, kidnapping, or threats against anyone. It might
not even make a difference. He could get elected without any help. We are not
asking you to help us elect Ayatollah Khomeini. He's a deeply religious man and
will make a good pope. And why would you care who's pope?" he asked.
“So you want me to help place a murderer
at the head of one of the world’s largest and most influential organizations.”
I tilted my head and looked at him. “And he does have that blood on his hands,
this devout man of yours.” I couldn't help but wonder if this was what they
wanted Granny to do or had they changed strategies or goals "How can I
trust you?" I asked. “You have a habit of murdering your associates.” My
options still weren't clear. I could never trust Father Black, no matter how
reasonable he sounded, and what about Sheila? She was probably having the same
problem I was—how to survive. If so, that made her unpredictable,
although I doubted she was big on trusting Father Black any more than I. But,
if he were the only option, then what?
"I admit our recent
interactions have made trust an issue, which is unfortunate. Two priests' oaths
to God should be sufficient. What do you suggest?"
"Let me see your future,"
I said, trying not to smile at the stunned look on Black's face and the twitch
of Sheila's lips.
"How will that help? How far
into the future can you see and with what clarity?"
"A few weeks with some clarity,"
I said. I had no intention of giving this man more information than necessary. “Sometimes
further, but it requires more interpretation. And no, I can't see my own future
or this discussion wouldn't be necessary. But I can make assumptions based on
what you do as to how it will affect me." I sat back and took a couple
sips of tea, while awaiting his decision. I wasn't sure what I would see or if
it would help, but it might help me decide on my options. Eventually, he
nodded.
"All right. If that will help
you decide, I'm willing." He looked in Sheila's direction, and she nodded.
He leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, and I placed mine over
his. His hand tightened for a second then relaxed, and he smiled. I watched as
he left the shop and went to a hotel, went through an hour or more of prayers,
and went to bed. He didn't return to the shop until the next evening when he
helped Sheila load my luggage into the trunk of his car. We--I had to assume I
was along--left late that evening. I assumed the delay was for me to contact my
friends, so I wouldn't be a missing person. He drove to the airport where we
boarded a private plane. Several days later we flew to Atlanta were we met with
a large man, in height and girth, who was dressed as a cardinal. I was
mesmerized as the days melded into weeks, then weeks into months, and then
months into a year. I felt a Loa was with me helping, and for the first time I heard
what people said. Father Black's future revealed many things: he was a priest
and the head of a special branch of the CIA. I was asked only to tell the
cardinal what I saw in his future—more specifically what he would read in
the newspapers each day.
With Father Black present, I
witnessed his rage against the changes that had led to the Catholic Church’s
loss of power in certain other nations. Saw his hatred of people who believed
differently than he. Heard his plans to interfere in various nations’ laws, get
priests under his influence elected to public office, and to influence world
events. I did not know if he could do what he planned if he were elected Pope, but
I knew he would try and would condone murder to achieve his goals.
I saw him elected pope, and Father
Black became my warden. I was taken to Rome with them and held prisoner in a
small suite of rooms. Alone. Without the man that I loved. None of that
surprised me. It was exactly what Granny had warned me would happen if anyone
understood my powers. I bit back a gasp of horror and fought for calm.
"From what I can see, the
cardinal only wants information about future events, which he uses for his own
purposes. I can't tell what purposes since I can only see your actions. But
past experience with you shows me exactly how evil those purposes can be. And
of course, I don't know whether you live up to your word about leaving me alone
afterward," I lied.
"I'm not perfect, but I'm a
man of God."
"Yes, Father Benedict, as is
your Cardinal Eligius." I said, pausing for a few seconds, and was
rewarded when his face lost some of its color. Then he smiled.
"You're very talented, Mambo
Renee. And dangerous. I'd wager you know where I work and my real name."
"Yes. You are a man of God who
believe God empowers individuals to act in his name."
"Of course. We're in a
constant struggle with the devil for our souls."
"I'm a woman in the service of
God, but I don't believe He asks anything of me. I believe He, maybe through His
Loa, keeps a scorecard of some kind of my actions and that when I die I will be
judged on how well I scored."
"And how would helping us
affect your score?" Black asked, frowning.
"Interesting question. I would
be doing your bidding based on your interpretation of what God wants. What did
you call the men who approached Mambo Eshe? Zealots. Men who thought God gave
them permission to use any method to achieve their interpretation of God's
will. Men who thought they had God given right to kill."
He stared into my eyes. "I
would hope you would see your contribution not as evil but rather as helping a
worthy cause and beneficial to you, while the alternatives... I assure you, the
alternatives for you are evil indeed."
"Yes. The alternatives are
evil, and you would try to make me believe I would be to blame for them. You
would kill the man I love, and I would be to blame. No! You will be to blame
and will have to answer for your actions."
"So you would let Jim, Ron,
Grace...die for your ideals?" Black said as he rose.
"No. I'm refusing to help you.
You can kill Jim, Ron, Grace, everyone I know or who I have ever talked to and
make my life Hell on earth. But you cannot make me responsible for your
actions. Leave me and mine alone, and I will leave it to God to decide your
faith." I sat, feeling a sense of peace. Regardless of the consequences, I
knew I had made the right decision. I don't know why the Loa had given me the
gift, but it was not to play God or to help others play God. It was probably only
my overly active imagination but I felt the runes on my arm moving as if
alive—reminding me of my commitment to God. I was a priestess of Vodou,
not God or a Loa. Just a servant of God dedicated to helping when and where I
could. "I will make you a deal—not a proposal nor open for
negotiation."
"And what is that, Mambo
Renee?" he asked, eyes narrowed, but his voice sounded amused.
"I will not bother you as long
as you don't bother me, and that includes Sheila." When I looked towards
her she stood open-mouthed.
Black snorted. "Bother us?
There is nothing you could possibly do that would bother us. Tell people some
wild theories about a conspiracy to make a cardinal the pope? And be dismissed
as a lunatic Voodoo priestess.” He smirked at me. “And in the meantime you will
lose everyone and everything that you love. I will see to it.”
I cocked my head and smiled. “You
saw those films from the fight in my shop. But it did not occur to you that
there might also be cameras in my home and still active?” I nodded toward the
camera that had never been removed and was recording every movement and every
word. “Perhaps you should have had those friends at NSA and the CIA do further
checking.”
He paused and seemed to be thinking
over what he might have admitted to since entering the room. “So you have a
film of this conversation. Do you think offering you millions of dollars to
work for us is a crime?”
“Perhaps not.” I paused. “But I
suspect there are other bishops and cardinals who would be very interested in
hearing your plans and in knowing exactly what you are willing to do to achieve
your ends. Perhaps as willing as you to go to great lengths to stop you.”
The color slowly drained from his
face.
My voice hardened and I stood up.
“They don’t have to believe in my powers. All they have to know is that you do
and what you have done to gain control of them. And I'm quite certain they
would be interested in your friend’s plans to be pope. I will see that every
cardinal in the Catholic Church receives a copy of that film and every bit of
evidence we have unless you leave me and mine alone. And that includes Sheila.”
"Why her?" His face
twisted with distaste. "She's done her share of evil things."
"Perhaps. But she's going to
retire and spend the rest of her days helping people when and where she
can."