'Good for you. You have to honor Melanie's trust. Does anyone else know about the disks?'
She shook her head. 'Not another soul…until now.'
'Good. We'll keep it that way. I won't mention it to anyone, not even Lew.'
She wiped her eyes and composed herself, then rose to her feet.
'Thank you. You're a good man. And I'm sorry I made such a scene. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's just that I seem to cry so easily lately. Maybe it's because something inside me senses the End Times coming. Do you think that could be it?'
'I couldn't say, Olive. But I'll bet they're still a long ways off.'
'Let's hope so—for both our sakes.'
'What do you mean?'
She stepped closer and lowered her voice. 'Get yourself a check-up, Mr. Shelby.'
'Me? Why?'
'Those missing hours after you saw the light and the figure—they might have planted one of the 666 chips in you. Get a thorough examination by a doctor you trust. Soon.'
Jack led her toward the door. 'Yeah. That's probably a good idea. Thanks for the advice.'
'And watch out for Jim Zaleski.'
'Who?'
'One of our more prominent members.'
Jack remembered the name now—Lew had called him a 'ufologist.'
'I don't know why he was ever allowed in this organization. He's so foul mouthed. He cannot seem to speak a single sentence without blaspheming or taking the name of the Lord in vain.'
'I don't see how—'
'And he has a temper nearly as terrible as his tongue. I'm just hoping that Melanie didn't come to him with some information that upset him, because there's no telling what he might do.'
'I'll keep that in mind.'
'And the other one to watch out for is Professor Roma himself.'
'I've already had a run-in with him.'
'I heard. That's why I thought I could trust you…because I
'Why do you say that?' Jack remembered his instant dislike of the man.
'That monkey…I've seen him talking to it.'
'Well, everybody talks to their pets now and again.'
'Yes, but I've seen it answering him, whispering in his ear. I even overheard it once.'
A chill shot through Jack. The way that monkey had glared at him earlier, with almost human hatred…
'What did it say?'
'I don't know…it was speaking a language unlike any I've ever heard, almost like…' She glanced at him. 'Have you ever heard anyone speaking in tongues?'
'Can't say I've had the pleasure.'
'Well, I have. And many times the Spirit has taken me over and I've spoken myself. That's what it sounded like to me—Speaking in Tongues.'
'You could be mistaken.'
She nodded slowly. 'Yes, I could be. But what if that monkey is some sort of familiar? That would tell us which side he's on, wouldn't it.' Her eyes narrowed again. 'That's why I'm watching him…watching him whenever I can. I'll find out the truth about Professor Salvatore Roma.'
Jack opened the door and ushered her into the hall. Movement to his left caught his eye and he turned in time to see a man in a hat and a dark suit moving quickly down the hall and ducking out of sight into the elevator alcove. He had a sense that he'd been standing outside the door a few seconds ago.
Listening? he wondered. Somebody watching me? Or watching Olive? Or just somebody heading for the elevator?
He considered heading down to the alcove to get a better look at the guy, but dropped the idea when he heard the elevator bell ring. He'd never make it in time.
He turned back to Olive. 'If you learn anything about You-know-who, be sure to let me know.'
'I will. And remember,' she said, a fearful need growing in her eyes. 'If Melanie calls again—'
'I'll ask her. I promise I'll ask her.'
'Bless you. I'm in 812. Call me as soon as you have any news, no matter how late the hour.'
Jack closed the door and sighed with a mixture of relief and pity. One very disturbed woman. At least he hoped she was. None of that could possibly be true, could it?
Nah. Jack figured he didn't know much about the End Times, but he did know a lady who should probably be on some heavy-duty medication while she was waiting for them.
5
Jack sat with Lew during Professor Roma's welcoming address. He was less interested in the words—some mishmash about 'confluence of ideas' and 'spreading the Truth' and 'ripping the cover off' and so on—than, in the man.
Roma—sans monkey—wore a very dapper light gray Armani suit with a black collarless shirt buttoned to the top, giving him the appearance of a very rich and hip minister. Much as Jack hated to admit it, the guy was a mesmerizing speaker. He prowled the little stage with a cordless mike, gesturing dramatically, speaking without notes. Sincerity and dedication fired his every word. Here was a man with a mission.
The biographical sketch in the rear of the program book said he was a native of South Carolina and now a professor of anthropology at Northern Kentucky University.
Jack wondered how a college professor afforded Armani suits. Maybe he did a lot of public speaking, because he seemed to have a gift. He'd seized this audience of about three hundred. They listened in rapt attention, breaking into applause every time he paused. The crowd itself surprised Jack. The SESOUPers were older than he'd expected. The average age had to be forty-plus. Lots of gray heads in the audience, which was pretty evenly divided between the sexes, but almost exclusively white—he'd seen only one black face since he'd entered.
He'd been anticipating more picturesque types, and indeed he'd spotted a few ethereal, long-haired New Agers, and the inevitable bearded fat guy doing the Michelin Man thing in a stretched-to-the-limit 'Abductees Do It In Space' T-shirt, but mostly he saw lots of old guys wearing white shoes and string ties with a flying saucer cinch, matrons in warm-ups and polyester pants suits, nerdy engineer types with pocket protectors and suspenders. The home towns on their badges were in states like Colorado and Missouri and Indiana.
On the whole, what was so striking about SESOUP's members was their very ordinariness. Middle America seemed to be heavily into conspiracies.
Jack didn't know whether to be heartened or dismayed.
After the standing ovation for Roma's address, everyone streamed into a large adjoining room for the cocktail reception. Jack watched singles, couples, groups greeting each other with smiles and hugs.
'Looks like a pretty friendly group,' he said.
Lew nodded. 'They're good people. A lot of us know each other from other similar organizations. Most are like Melanie and me—no close living relatives, not much in common with their neighbors. For many of us, these conferences are almost like family gatherings.' He held, up a couple of drink tickets. 'Thirsty? I'm buying.'
'I thought you didn't drink.'
'I'm making an exception tonight.'
'Okay. I'll take a beer. Anything as long as it's not made by Anheuser-Busch.'
As Lew threaded his way through the crowd toward the bar, two middle-aged women stopped before Jack.
The taller of the pair introduced herself as Evelyn Something-or-other, a big, chunky blonde wearing a bright red dress, little white socks, and shiny Mary Janes on her tiny feet—all Jack could think of was an old comic book character…Little Dot's voracious friend…
Little Lotta.
'I'm the program chairwoman?' Evelyn said. It sounded like a question. In fact, just about everything out of
