This Present Darkness (32 page)

Outside, trucks were being loaded with the crates as more maintenance people driving little grounds tractors went about the complex, shutting down various hookups and utilities and boarding up any buildings no longer occupied.

Nearby, on the porch of the big stone house at the edge of the grounds, a woman stood watching. She was tall and slender, with long, jet-black hair; she wore black, loose-fitting clothes, and she clutched her shoulder bag close to her side with pale, trembling hands. She looked this way and that, evidently trying to relax herself. She took a few deep breaths. She reached into her bag and brought out a pair
of dark sunglasses with which she covered her eyes. Then she stepped down from the porch and started across the plaza toward the office building.

Her steps were firm and deliberate, her eyes remained straight ahead. A few office personnel passed and saluted her, pressing their palms together in front of their chins and bowing slightly. She nodded at them and kept walking.

The office staff saluted her in the same way as she entered and she smiled at them, not speaking a word. Upon receiving her smile, they returned to their feverish work. The office manager, a well-dressed woman with tightly pinned hair, stepped up, gave a slight bow and said, “Good morning. What does the Maidservant require?”

The Maidservant smiled and said, “I’d like to run off some copies.”

“I can do it immediately.”

“Thank you. I’d like to run them off myself.”

“Certainly. I’ll warm up the machine for you.”

The woman scurried toward a small room off to the side, and the Maidservant followed. Several accountants and filing clerks, some Oriental, some East Indian, some European, bowed as she passed and then went back to their consultations with each other.

The office manager had the copier ready in less than a minute.

“Thank you, you may go now,” said the Maidservant.

“Certainly,” answered the woman. “I am at your disposal if you have any problems or questions.”

“Thank you.”

The manager left and the Maidservant closed the door behind her, shutting out the rest of the office and any intrusions. Then, quickly, the Maidservant reached into her bag and brought out a small book. She leafed through it, skimming over the handwritten pages until she found what she was looking for. Then, laying the book open and face down on the copier, she started pressing the buttons and copying page after page.

Forty pages later she turned off the machine, folded the copies neatly, and placed them in a compartment of her bag, along with the little book. She left the office directly and went back to the big stone house.

The house was majestic in its size and decor, with a large stone
hearth and soaring, rough-beamed ceilings. The Maidservant hurried up the thickly-carpeted staircase to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Placing the little book on her stately antique vanity, she opened a drawer and pulled out some brown wrapping paper and twine. The paper already had a name written on it, the addressee: Alexander M. Kaseph. The return address included the name J. Langstrat. She quickly rewrapped the book as if it had never been opened, then bound the package with string.

Elsewhere in the house, in a very large office, a middle-aged, roundly built man dressed in loose trousers and tunic sat Indian fashion on a large cushion. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep. The fine furnishings of a man of great prestige and power surrounded him: souvenirs from around the world, such as swords, war clubs, African artifacts, religious relics, and several rather grotesque idols of the East; a battleship of a desk with built-in computer console, multilined telephone, and an intercom; a long, deep-cushioned couch with matching hand-carved oak chairs and coffee table; hunting trophies of bear, elk, moose, and lion.

Without hearing a knock, the man spoke loftily. “Come in, Susan.”

The big oak door opened silently and the Maidservant entered, carrying the brown paper package.

Without opening his eyes, the man said, “Put it on my desk.”

The Maidservant did so, and the man began to stir from his motionless position, opening his eyes and stretching his arms as if awakening from sleep.

“So you finally found it,” he said with a teasing smile.

“It was there all the time. With all the packing and rearranging it got shoved over in a corner.”

The man rose from his cushion, stretched his legs, and walked a few laps around the office. “I really don’t know what it is,” he said as if answering a question.

“I didn’t wonder—” said the Maidservant.

He smiled condescendingly and said, “Oh, maybe not, but it felt like you did.” He went up behind her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, speaking in her ear. “Sometimes I can read you so very well, and sometimes you drift away. You’ve been feeling so troubled lately.
Why?”

“Oh, all the moving, I guess, the upheaval.”

He put his arms around her waist and held her close as he said, “Don’t let it bother you. We’re going to a far better place. I have a house all picked out. You’ll love it.”

“I grew up in that town, you know.”

“No. No, not really. It won’t be the same town at all, not as you remember it. It will be better. But you don’t believe that, do you?”

“As I said, I grew up in Ashton—”

“And all you wanted was to get out of there!”

“So you can understand why my feelings are confused.”

He twirled her around and laughed playfully as he looked into her eyes. “Yes, I know! On the one hand, you have no desire at all for the town, and on the other hand, you sneak off to attend the carnival.”

She blushed a little and looked at the floor. “I was searching for something from my past, something from which to envision my future.”

He held her hand and said, “There is no past. You should have stayed with me. I hold the answers for you now.”

“Yes, I can see that. I couldn’t before.”

He laughed and went behind his desk. “Well, good, good. We don’t need any more meetings held in hiding places behind a noisy carnival. You should have seen how embarrassed our friends were to have to meet there.”

“But why did you even have to come looking for me? Why did you have to drag them along?”

He sat at the desk and began handling a wicked-looking ceremonial knife with a golden handle and razor-sharp blade.

Looking over the edge of the blade at her, he said, “Because, dear Maidservant, I do not trust you. I love you, I am one in essence with you, but …” He held the knife up to the level of his eye and peered down the edge of the blade at her, his eyes as sharply cutting as the knife. “I do not trust you. You are a woman given to many conflicting passions.”

“I cannot harm the Plan. I am only one person among myriads.”

He rose and came around to the side of the desk where other knives were stuck into the carved head of some pagan idol.

“You, dear Susan, share my life, my secrets, my purposes. I have to protect my interests.”

With that, he dropped the knife, point first, and it thudded into the idol’s head.

She smiled in acquiescence and sidled up to him, giving him an alluring kiss. “I am, and will always be, yours,” she said.

He gave her a sly smile, and the cutting look never left his eyes as he answered, “Yes. Of course you are.”

HIGH ABOVE THE
valley, amid the rocks and crevices of the mountaintops, two figures concealed themselves. One, the silver-haired man who had been here before, continually watched the activity below. He was stately and mighty, his piercing eyes full of wisdom.

The other was Tal, the Captain of the Host.

“This is what you’re looking for,” said the silver-haired man. “Rafar had business there only days ago.”

Tal peered down into the valley. The swarms of black demons were too numerous to even estimate.

“The Strongman?” he asked.

“Undoubtedly, with a cloud of guards and warriors all around him. We’ve been unable to penetrate it yet.”

“And she’s right in the middle of it!”

“The Spirit has been steadily opening her eyes and calling her. She is close to the Strongman—dangerously close. The prayers of the Remnant have placed a blindness and stupor on the demonic hosts all around her. At present it will buy you time, but little more.”

Tal grimaced. “My general, it will take more than a stupor for us to break through to her. We can barely hold the town of Ashton, much less take on the Strongman directly.”

“And you can only expect this buildup to worsen. Their numbers increase tenfold each day.”

“Yes, they are preparing, that’s for certain.”

“But, at the same time, her conflicts continue to grow. Soon she won’t be able to conceal her true feelings and intentions from her lord down there. Tal, she has learned of the suicide.”

Tal looked directly at the general. “I understand she and Patricia
were very close.”

The general nodded. “It jolted her, which made her more receptive. But her time of safety is limited. Here’s your next step. The Universal Consciousness Society is holding a special fund-raising and promotional dinner in New York for its many cohorts and members in the United Nations. Kaseph can’t attend because of his present activities here. He will send Susan, however, to represent him. She’ll be closely escorted, but this will be the one time she’ll be out from under the Strongman’s demonic cover. The Spirit knows she plans to get away and make contact with one remaining friend on the outside, who can in turn contact your newspaperman. She’ll take that chance, Tal. You must arrange for her to succeed.”

Tal’s first response was, “Is there prayer cover in New York?”

“You will have it.”

Tal looked at the swarms below. “And they must not find out …”

“No. They must not suspect anything has happened until you can get Susan out for good. They would destroy her if they knew.”

“And who is the friend?”

“His name is Kevin Weed, a former classmate and boyfriend.”

“To work, then. I have some more prayer to gather in.”

“Godspeed, dear captain!”

Tal climbed behind some large rocks for concealment before he unfurled his wings. Then, with the silence and grace of a drifting cloud, he floated up over the mountaintop. Once he had cleared the summit and could no longer be seen by any of the swarms in the valley, his wings snapped into a rushing pattern and he shot forward like a bullet, trailing a brilliant arc of light across the sky and over the horizon.

MARSHALL AND BERNICE
drove through the forested countryside in the big brown Buick, talking about themselves, their pasts, their families, and anything else that came to mind. They were getting tired of only talking about business anyway, and finding it enjoyable to share each other’s company.

“I grew up Presbyterian,” said Marshall. “Now I don’t know what I am.”

“My folks were Episcopalian,” said Bernice. “I don’t think I was
ever anything. They dragged me along to church every Sunday, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“I didn’t mind it that much. I had a good Sunday school teacher.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s where I missed out. I never went to Sunday school.”

“Aw, I think a kid needs to know something about God.”

“What if God doesn’t exist?”

“See what I mean? You never went to Sunday school!”

The Buick came to a crossroads, and a sign indicated the way back to Ashton was to the left. Marshall turned left.

Bernice answered one of Hogan’s questions. “Nope, no parents alive anymore. Dad died in ’76 and Mom died … let’s see, two years ago.”

“That’s too bad.”

“And then I lost my only sibling, Patricia.”

“Is that right! Boy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s a lonely world out there sometimes …”

“Yeah, I suppose … and I wonder who there is to meet in Ashton?”

She only looked at him and said, “I’m not hunting, Marshall.”

About a mile ahead of them was a wide spot in the road referred to as Baker, a little town indicated by the smallest possible dot on the map. It was one of those typical roadsides where truckers and fourwheeling hunters drop in for black coffee and cold eggs. Blink just once and you’d miss it.