“Oh, no. I didn’t mean—”
“You did.” Laurace sighed. “Never mind. A natural thought. I don’t blame you. But the fact is, I had no need to prey on superstition. Investments I’d made before going abroad had done well. I didn’t like the look of the stock market, and pulled out in time. Oh, by myself I’d be quite comfortably off.” Seriously: “There were my people, though. There was also the matter of my own long-range survival. And, now, yours.”
Clara showed near-bewilderment. “What’ve you done, then, if you haven’t founded a church?”
Laurace spoke quickly, impersonally: “Churches and their leaders are too conspicuous, especially if they achieve some success. Likewise revolutionary movements. Not that I wish for a revolution. I know how little bloodshed ever buys. That must be still more true of you.”
“I never gave it your kind of thought,” Clara said humbly. Her cigarette smoldered unnoticed between her fingers.
“What I am organizing is—call it a society, somewhat on the African and Haitian mode!. Remember, those outfits aren’t criminal, nor are they for pleasure; they are parts of the whole, the cultures, bone and muscle as well as spirit. Mine does contain elements of both religion and magic. In Canada I was exposed to Catholicism, which is one root of voudun. I don’t tefl anybody what church he should go to; but I open for him a vision of being not only a Christian, but belonging to the whole living universe. I don’t lay curses or give blessings, but I say words and lead rites in which I am—not a goddess or Messiah, not even a saint, but she who is closer than most to understanding, to power.
“Oh, we have a practical aspect too. A Haitian would know what I mean by the surname I’ve taken. But I don’t call for gaining control—not by vote, like the Republicans and Democrats, or by violence, like the Communists, or by persuasion, like the Socialists. No, my politics is individuals quietly getting together under leadership they have freely accepted, helping each other, building a life and a future for themselves.”
Clara shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t quite see what you mean.”
“Don’t worry.” Warmth was in the reply. “For the time being, think of it on the spiritual side as offering my followers something better than booze and coke. As for the material part, now that breadlines have gotten long, more and more hear about us and come to us, black, white, Puerto Rican, every race. Openly, we’re just another among hundreds of volunteer groups doing poor relief. Quietly, as newcomers prove trustworthy and advance through our degrees of initiation—we take them into a community they can belong to, work in, believe in, modestly but adequately and with hope. In return, when I ask for it, they help me.”
Laurace paused before continuing: “I can’t explain it much better than that, today. You’ll learn. Truth to tell, I’m learning too. I never laid out any grand scheme, I fumbled my way forward, and still do. Maybe this will crash to ruin, or decay. But maybe—I can’t foresee. Immortal leadership ought to make an important difference, but how to use it, I’m not yet sure. About all that I feel reasonably sure of is that we have to keep ourselves from being noticeable.”
“Can you?”
“We can try. ‘We’ includes you, I trust.” Laurace lifted her wine glass. “Here’s to tomorrow.”
Clara joined in the toast but remained troubled. “What are your plans for ... for the near future?”
“Considerable,” Laurace answered. “And you can do a great deal. You save your money, right? Well, we, the society, we’re stretched thin. We badly need operating capital. Opportunities go begging. For instance, since the crash, stocks are at rock-bottom prices.”
“Because we’ve got a depression. I thought you said you left the market.”
Laurace laughed. “If I’d foreseen exactly what would happen two years ago October, I’d have sold short at the right point and now own Wall Street. But I am not a sorceress—nor do I claim to be—and I’ve learned to play cautious. That doesn’t mean timid or unthinking. Look, depressions don’t last forever. People will always want homes, cars, a thousand different good, solid things; and sooner or later, they’ll again be able to buy them. It may take fifty years to collect our profit, but immortals can wait.”
“I see.” Clara’s features came aglow. “Okay. With that to look forward to, I can stand another fifty years in the life.”
“You needn’t. Times are changing.”
“What men want won’t change.”
“No, though the laws may. No matter. Clara, shake free of that sordidness as fast as you can unload.”
“What for? What else can I do? I don’t know anything except—“ With forlorn determination: “I will not turn into a parasite on you. I won’t.”
“Oh, no,” Laurace answered. “We take no parasites in. Quite aside from the money you contribute, you’ll earn your keep. You may not appreciate it yet, but you have fourteen hundred years of experience behind you, with the insight, the intuition, that must have brought. Yours may well be a bitter wisdom, but we need it.”
“What for?”
“For the building of our strength.”
“Huh? Wait, you said—”
“I said I do not intend to overthrow the government, take over the country, anything stupid and ephemeral like that,” Laurace declared. “My aim is the exact opposite. I want to build something so strong that with it we can say ‘No’ to the slavers, the lynch mobs, and the lords of state.
“Men seized my father, bore him away in chains, and sold him. They hounded me when I escaped, and would have caught me if other men had not broken their law. A few years ago, they shot down the man I loved, for nothing worse than providing a pleasure they said nobody must have. At that, he was lucky. He might have died earner, in their damned useless war. I ?ould go on, but why? You could tell more, as much longer as you’ve lived.
“What’s brought this death and misery, but that men have had power over other men?
“Don’t mistake me. I am not an anarchist. Human beings are so made that the few will always rule the many. Sometimes they mean well—in spite of everything, I believe the founders of the United States did—but that doesn’t long outlive them.
“The only partial security we who want to lead our own lives will ever have, we must create from within us. Oneness. Ongoing resolution. The means to live independent of the overlords. Only by guiding the poor and helpless toward this can we immortals win it for ourselves.
“Are you with me?”
XVI. Niche
The hotel was new and rather soulless, but it stood near Old Town, with a fine tenth-floor view of roofs and narrow streets climbing to the stones of the Citadel. That mass stood darkling athwart stars dimmed by lamps and lightful panes. On the west side, the comer suite overlooked modem Ankara, Ulus Square, the boulevard, radiance glaring and flashing, opulent storefronts, crowded sidewalks, hasty automobiles. Heat.of a day in late summer lingered, and the windows stood open to catch whatever coolness crept in off the river and hinterland. Height muffled traffic noise, even car horns, to an undertone hardly more loud than the large fan whining on its stand.
For the American patron and his dinner guest, room service had set an elegant table and carried up an excellent meal. Through most of it they had sparred with small talk. The language in which they could most readily converse turned out to be Greek. Now they were at the stage of cheese, coffee, and liqueurs.
Oktay Saygun leaned back, held his Drambuie to the light before he sipped, creased his jowls with a smile. He was a stocky, paunchy man, his nose the single impressive thing about him. While not shabby, his business suit had clearly been years in use and inexpensive when bought. “Ah,” he murmured, “delicious. You are a most knowledgeable gentleman, Kyrie McCready.”
“I am glad you enjoyed this,” replied the other. “I hope you feel more at ease with me.”
Saygun cocked his head in birdlike fashion, if the bird be a well-fed owl or parrot. David McCready was two or three centimeters taller than he, lean and timber. Though the dark hawk visage showed only geniality, the eyes— oddly Levantine for the name he bore—met his own and searched. “Did I give you the opposite impression?” Saygun asked. “I’m sorry. What a poor return for your hospitality. Not my intention at all, I assure you.”
