'Anyway,' he continued, 'I suppose you'd like to know that they grilled him about you. That they asked rather pointed questions about your degree of faith, whether you believed in God or in Satan.'

'So?' I asked. 'Maybe they were checking the answers I gave on my application to Sunday school.'

'You're like most people, Ammo. You think priests and bishops and rabbis and the like sit around praying and absolving people of the sins they've devised to instill guilt. Forget it. Religion is a con game like any other. It relies on efficient information gathering. You'd be surprised how well a confessional works for purposes of extortion.'

'Even those they don't literally blackmail get shaken down,' Tom said through a grin. 'Who can resist throwing a few bucks toward someone who implies that you'll roast in hell for an eternity if you don't pay up? Certainly a far worse fate than any court or scandal sheet can threaten.'

'Most people,' I said, 'seem willing to defer their punishment that long.' I pulled up a dirty folding chair to sit on. 'Get to the point. You knew Joey. Somehow he got dead in my office. What's that got to do with you and me?'

'Relax, Ammo,' the guy on the altar said. 'We're on the same side. I think.' He pointed a thick index finger at me. 'You're trying to find a way to expose religion as a hoax, and you're on some sort of a track that's got a certain group of powers-behind-the-throne scared out of their gowns. Enough for them to put a tail on Joey. Enough to kill him.'

'So they kill him and don't wait around for me? As deduction, that stinks.'

'Maybe something bigger scared them off. I was watching the news last night. Some fun happenings around Hollywood. More than usual, wouldn't you agree?'

He slid off the altar to walk over to where I was sitting. We were nearly eye-to-eye now. He looked me over, circling the chair. He peered at the scalp showing below my hat. He nodded approval at the wounds.

'Maybe you

are

a tough guy after all. Not many people go up against the Ecclesia and survive two warnings.' He caught my frown of incomprehension. '

Ecclesia

,' he repeated, 'with an impressively capital

E

. You won't find it in any reference book, even the ones that are fairly replete with information about Freemasons and the Bavarian Illuminati and other small-time conspiracies. Anyone you ask either won't know or will deny its existence. In religious circles, though, gossip circulates and leaks. They have their own unique conspiracy theories.'

'Do they?' I asked, as raptly interested as I could be without stifling a yawn.

He poked at the still-swollen lump that served as a souvenir of my night escapades outside Auberge. Something dull throbbed through my body to ache against the newer bruises and slashes under my hat.

'The Ecclesia-' was about all he got out by the time my hand whipped around to sweep up under his chin. I had to crouch in the chair to reach that low. He sat with astonishing speed, landing on the floor with a thud that I thought would bring us crashing down into the shops below. He stared blankly forward, his hands useless by his sides.

I stood to look at Tom.

Adonis looked worried. It was an admirably beautiful worry. Michelangelo spent years trying to sculpt that kind of worry.

'Fine way to treat one another,' I said to Tom. 'We haven't even been formally introduced.'

'Randolph Corbin,' came a voice as thick as library paste. One hand massaged his jaw, the other extended upward, palm open. He leaned forward. I grasped his hand and pulled. My knuckles were sore from the punch, and his grip didn't help matters.

'Call me anything but Randy, and we won't cause each other trouble.' He shuffled unsteadily to the white cube and leaned his bulk against it. It skidded a bit, dragging part of the rug with it. He shifted about to gaze up at me. I must have scored a hit on the button the way his round chin was getting rounder.

I felt bad about doing that. His face didn't need any more workouts.

'The Ecclesia,' he continued, as though he'd just stopped for a breath, 'is a loose association of high-level bishops, rabbis, imams, roshis, and various other shamans who have a vested interest in maintaining the power of religion. Organized religion. The kind that accumulates revenue. They consider any threat to the philosophical foundations of any faith to be a threat to all. They leave the lip service concerning holy wars to the lower echelons. In the same manner as the U.S. and the Soviet governments, they recognize that the pretense of being enemies is necessary to justify their mutual existences. Fear and hatred of the rival religion keeps the peons in line. The Ecclesia is securely entrenched. They've got the wealth of a dozen faiths to play with, and they're not interested in people who rock the

Вы читаете The Jehovah Contract
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату