As was his cell phone.
The preachers he’d invited onto the stage with him were clearly watching the live telecast too. And they weren’t thrilled either.
He sucked in a deep, angry breath.
Grabbed the big phone unit from the limed oak coffee table in his study.
Ripped its power cord out of the wall.
And hurled it straight through his TV screen.
THEY ALL WATCHED the endless replays of the coverage in the executive lounge of the FBO at Hobby Airport with relief. They’d pulled it off, and so far, there was no sign of any vicious reaction, not from anywhere around the world. They all knew they’d opened a huge Pandora’s box, opened up a debate that would surely rage on for months and years ahead. But it was an opportunity none of them could resist.
Rydell had booked the FBO for their exclusive use. The plane bringing Rebecca from L.A. was due any minute. It would then take them all to their various destinations: D.C. for Gracie and Dalton; Boston for Rydell, Matt, and Danny. Father Jerome would be Rydell’s guest until they figured out how to reintroduce him into public life—if at all.
In the well-stocked lounge, Gracie studied Father Jerome as he watched himself on the TV screen.
“No regrets?” she asked him.
He looked at her with warm, smiling eyes. “None whatsoever. We need this. We need a new level of consciousness to deal with the challenges we’re now facing. And who knows? Maybe it’ll work.”
“You have more faith in human nature than I do, Father,” Rydell commented.
“Do I? You created this.” He pointed a bony finger at Rydell. “You created something wonderful. And you did it with the best intentions. It was a shame to let it all go to waste, when it could be used to do so much good. And you had to think it would work, or you wouldn’t have tried it in the first place. Which tells me you also had some level of faith in mankind heeding its call and doing the right thing, no?”
Rydell smiled, and nodded. “Maybe, Father. And maybe they’ll surprise me and listen and take in one tenth of what you said.” He paused, then told him, “I owe you my life, Father. Anything you want, just name it.”
“I can think of a few places that could use hospitals and orphanages,” Father Jerome said casually.
“Just write me up a list,” Rydell told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
Gracie gave Father Jerome a soft pat on the shoulder. She looked over at Dalton, who was listening intently as Danny told him all about the technology behind the sign. She wondered if Dalton would bail on her and join Danny and Rydell in geekland, then spotted Matt over by the coffee machine, walked over and joined him.
“So I guess your Hollywood blockbuster’s not gonna happen, huh?”
Matt crinkled his face in mock pain. “Nah. Just as well, really. I wouldn’t know how to deal with all those groupies.” He paused, then added, “Your Woodward and Bernstein moment’s also gone up in smoke.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” she groaned.
Something in her eyes told him it wasn’t that much of a lighthearted retort. “You okay?” he asked her.
“I don’t know. It just feels weird. Pulling off a big scam like this. It feels a bit, I don’t know, condescending. Like we know better.” She chortled. “I feel like Jack Nicholson on that stand, remember? Barking out, ‘You can’t handle the truth.’ ”
“You’re way hotter,” he ventured.
It was just the disarming comment she needed. “I sure as hell hope so,” she shot back, then beamed a melting smile at him. “But thanks for noticing. Now would you please do me a favor and find something else for us to talk about?”
He studied her smile, basked in it for a moment, then said, “You like classic cars?”
Author’s Note
Here’s where we are:
chose not to allow a recount of the Florida vote despite
the numerous charges of election fraud and irregularity,
and with Al Gore trailing George W. Bush by only several
hundred votes in the contest for Florida’s electoral votes,
thereby handing Bush the 2000 election
when asked if she believed in the Rapturist theology of
End of Days
And here’s where we were two hundred years ago:
States, writing about the Book of Revelation
