Will could not quite believe these words were coming from his father's mouth. It was a mismatch, as if he had become a ventriloquist dummy for a madman. With dread, Will realized that maybe this was the real William Monroe. Perhaps the father he had known was the fake. He forced himself to speak. 'And why would you want to bring about 'the true Judgment Day'? Why would you want this final reckoning?'
'Oh come on, William. Don't play the fool. Every Sunday school child in Christendom knows the answer to that. It's all there in the Book of Revelation. The end of the world will bring about the return of Christ the Redeemer.'
Will rocked on his heels, as if the words themselves were a physical force. 'So you're trying to bring Christ back into the world by killing thirty-six innocent people?' Will was conscious of the gun pointed directly at him. 'And these men are not just innocent. They are men of remarkable goodness.
I know that for a fact.'
'Don't look at me as if I'm some common murderer, William. You must see the genius of this plan. Only thirty six. Just thirty-six men need die. You should read the scriptures, my son. It was assumed that millions would have to lose their lives in the battle of Armageddon, the final conflagration hastening the Second Coming. The dead piled on the dead, oceans of blood. 'Every island fled away and the mountains could not be found'.
'But this avoids all that. This finds a new way to paradise, via a path neither strewn with bones, nor drenched in tears.' Will's father was closing his eyes. 'This is a just, peaceful way to bring about heaven on earth. Think of it, William: no more suffering, no more bloodshed. The Messianic days, brought about by the sacrifice of only thirty-six souls. That's fewer than die every minute on the roads; fewer than die needlessly in house fires or train wrecks. And those deaths are for nothing. But these — these lives are given so that others, the rest of humanity, may live forever. In paradise.
Isn't that what these righteous men would have wanted? 'And these were not brutal murders, William. Each one was carried out with love and respect for the blessed soul within. We gave them anaesthetic so they would feel no pain.
Of course, sometimes we had to disguise what we were doing.
Sometimes that meant a more violent end than we would have liked.' Will thought of Howard Macrae, stabbed and stabbed again, so that his death might look like a gang killing.
'But we tried to give them a measure of dignity.' Will remembered the blanket laid over Macrae's corpse. The woman he had interviewed a thousand years ago in Brownsville — Rosa — had insisted that the only person who could have done that was the killer himself, and it turned out Rosa was right.
His father was still talking, his voice softer now. 'Imagine it, William. Let yourself imagine it. A world without war. A world of peace and tranquillity, not just for now or next week, but for ever and ever. And you could make all that a reality, not by the sacrifice of millions but by sacrificing three dozen righteous souls. If you could do that, William, wouldn't you do it? Wouldn't you have to do it?'
The Apostle stopped preaching, letting his words hang for a while. Will could feel his head aching. All this talk of the end of days, of the second coming, of redemption and Armageddon, was too vast. It seemed to engulf him. Out of nowhere, an image of his past floated before his eyes. He was six years old, jumping the waves on a beach in the Hamptons, clinging onto his father's hand. But now there was no hand to hold.
Everything rational told Will his father had lapsed into a kind of insanity. How long he had been like this, Will had no idea. Perhaps ever since he started following Jim Johnson at Yale. But insanity was what it was. An international killing spree to bring back Jesus? It was certifiable.
But another voiced tugged at Will. It certainly sounded crazy, but the evidence was hard to deny. The Hassidim of Crown Heights yearned for Messiah; so did Christians the world over. Could all those hundreds of millions of people be wrong? A world without violence or disease, a world of peace and eternal life. His father was a clever, serious man his intellect was as formidable as any Will had ever known.
If he believed the truth of this prophecy, that this might really bring about heaven on earth, was it not gross arrogance for Will to insist he knew better?
Besides, it was too late to save the righteous men themselves.
At least thirty-five of them were dead; that damage had already been done. And the decoding of ancient texts finding these men by converting letters into numbers and then numbers into co-ordinates on the map — all that sounded loopy, but it had been vindicated. Those men were indeed righteous. Will had seen that for himself. Could he be so sure that he was right and his father wrong?
Suddenly Laser Eyes was gesturing at his watch, pressing Monroe Sr to hurry. 'Yes, yes. My friend is right. We have so little time. But Will, it's important you know something.
How I worked it out, how I understood that Beth is the mother of a tzaddik.' Will flinched. The word sounded strange, unnatural in the mouth of his father.
'Because I saw the beauty of it. The pattern. Don't you see it, Will? None of it is a coincidence, none of it. Not the stories you wrote for the newspaper, not this.' He gestured towards Beth. 'Not you, not me. It's not a coincidence at all. The rabbi here can tell us all about that. You'd call it beshert, wouldn't you, Rabbi? 'What is meant to be.' Destiny.
'Time is running out, William. And it's time for you to face your destiny. You've been chosen for this holiest of roles.
Don't you see how perfect it is? How God wants to end everything the way it all began? It started with Abraham and the request God made of him. You know what God wanted Abraham to do, don't you William?'
Will swallowed hard. Cold realization seeped through his veins. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. 'To sacrifice his son.'
'Exactly. To sacrifice the son he and his wife had wanted for so long.' Monroe Sr turned to the blue-eyed man, who suddenly produced a long, gleaming knife. Will's father handled it gingerly. With respect.
'That's why it has to be you, William. Abraham was willing to slay his beloved Isaac merely to prove his faith. But I'm asking you to do this for the sake of every human being that ever lived, including all those now long dead. Let them rise again, William! Let the Kingdom of heaven reign on earth!'
Will's nervous system seemed to flood with rage. 'And would you do it. Dad? Would you murder your own son?
Would you murder me to bring about the end of the world?'
'Yes I would, William. I would do it in a heartbeat.'
Will needed to sit down, to close his eyes. He felt dizzy.
Suddenly, just on the edge of his field of vision, he could see a haze of movement. It was the woman, charging towards Laser Eyes with some kind of stick: Will realized it was a loose wooden upright, pulled from the banister. With barely a turn, the man aimed his gun directly into the woman's face.
He shot twice, sending a cascade of blood and bone across the room. The body slumped to the ground. There was a second or two of silence. And then Will could hear and feel Beth behind him, moaning. His own hands were trembling.
'We need to act fast, William. We cannot tolerate any more delays. The Almighty has designated a time and even a person to take this last step. The time is now and the person is you.'
Will guessed there could only be a couple of minutes to go. Outside he could hear a chorus of voices, now swelling.
Avinu Malkeinu Chatmeinu b 'sefer chaim…
All Our Father, Our King, seal us in the book of life…
Even muffled by the walls, the intensity of their plea was unmistakable. He did not understand the words, but he knew their meaning. They were praying, in the fifty-ninth minute of the eleventh hour, for salvation.
The blade was glinting now, as bright and fierce as the flame in his father's eye. He spoke calmly, but his eyes were on fire. 'Take this knife, Will and do what is right. Do what God has commanded you. Now is the time.'
Will glanced at the rabbi, who finally spoke, his voice querulous.
Will saw his face was splattered with the blood of the woman who had been murdered in front of them. He seemed to be panting. 'Your father is right, Will. This is the moment for you to act. That is what God himself, in his wisdom, has given to us all: free will. He gives us choice. And now this choice is yours. You must decide what to do.'
Will gave one last look at his watch. If he could just spin this out a few moments longer…
