Anne protested, 'You know the Temple never had a telephone - ever. How can she?'
'Then have somebody chase over and - no, of course not; the Temple wouldn't have anybody - uh, call the chief of police there. No, the district attorney. The last you heard Mike was still in jail?'
'That's right.'
'I hope he still is - and all the others, too.'
'So do I. Dorcas, take Abby. I'll do it.'
But as they returned to the study the phone was signalling an incoming call and demanding hush amp; scramble. Jubal cursed and set the combo, intending to blast whoever it was off the frequency.
But it was Ben Caxton. 'Hi, Jubal.'
'Ben! What the hell is the situation?'
'I see you've had some of the news. That's why I called, to put your mind at rest. Everything is under control. No sweat.'
'What about the fire? Anybody hurt?'
'No damage at all. Mike says to tell you-'
'No damage? I just saw a shot of it; it looked like a total-'
'Oh, that-' Ben shrugged it off. 'Look, Jubal, please listen and let me talk. I've got other things and other calls after this one. You aren't the only person who needs to be reassured. But Mike said to call you first.'
'Uh? very well, sir. I shall keep silent.'
'Nobody hurt, nobody even scorched. Oh, a couple of million dollars in property damage, most of it uninsured. Nichevo. The place was already choked with experiences; Mike planned to abandon it soon in any case. Yes, it was fireproof - but anything will burn with enough gasoline and dynamite.'
'Incendiary job, huh?'
'Please, Jubal. They had arrested eight of us - all they could catch of the Ninth Circle, John Doe warrants, mostly. Mike had all of us bailed out in a couple of hours, except himself. He's still in the hoosegow-'
'I'll be right there!'
'Take it easy. Mike says for you to come if you want to, but there is absolutely no need for it. His words. And I agree. It would just be a pleasure trip. The fire was set last night while the Temple was empty, everything canceled because of the arrests - empty, that is, except for the Nest. All of us in town, except Mike, were gathered in the Innermost Temple, holding a special Sharing-Water in his honor, when the explosion and fire were set off. So we adjourned to an emergency Nest.'
'From the looks of it, you were lucky to get out at all.'
'We were completely cut off, Jubal. We're all dead-'
'What?'
'We're all listed as dead or missing so far as the authorities know. You see, nobody left the building after that holocaust started? by any known exit.'
'Uh? a 'priest's hole' arrangement?'
'Jubal, Mike has very special methods for dealing with such things - and I'm not going to discuss them over the phone, even scrambled.'
'You said he was in jail?'
'So I did. He still is.'
'But-'
'That's enough. If you do come here, don't go to the Temple. It's kaput. Our organization is busted up. We're through in this town. You could say that they've licked us, I suppose. I'm not going to tell you where we are? and I'm not calling from there, anyhow. If you must come - and I see no point in it; there's nothing you can do - just come as you ordinarily would? and we'll find you.'
'That's all. Good-by. Anne, Dorcas, Larry - and you, too, Jubal, and the baby. Share water. Thou art God.' The screen went blank.
Jubal swore. 'I knew it! I knew it all along! That's what comes of mucking around with religion. Dorcas, get me a taxi. Anne - no, finish feeding your child. Larry, pack me a small bag. Anne, I'll want most of the iron money and Larry can go into town tomorrow and replenish the supply.'
'But, Boss,' protested Larry, 'we're all going.'
'Certainly we are,' Anne agreed crisply.
'Pipe down, Anne. And close your mouth, Dorcas. This is not a time when women have the vote. That city is the front line at the moment and anything can happen. Larry, you are going to stay here and protect two women and a baby. Forget that about going to the bank; you won't need cash because none of you is to stir off the place until I'm back. Somebody is playing rough and there is enough hook up between this house and that church that they might play rough here, too. Larry, flood lights all night long, heat up the fence, don't hesitate to shoot. And don't be slow about getting everybody into the vault if necessary - better put Abby's crib in there at once. Now get with it, all of you - I've got to change clothes.'
Thirty minutes later Jubal was alone, by choice, in his suite; the rest were busy at assigned tasks. Larry called up, 'Boss! Taxi about to land.'
'Be right down,' he called back, then turned to take a last look at the Fallen Caryatid. His eyes were filled with tears. He said softly, 'You tried, didn't you, youngster? But that stone was always too heavy? too heavy for anyone.'
Gently he touched a hand of the crumpled figure, turned and left.
XXXV
JUBAL HAD A MISERABLE TRIP. The taxi was automatic and it did just what he expected of machinery, developed trouble in the air and homed for maintenance instead of carrying out its orders. Jubal wound up in New York, farther from where he wanted to be than when he started. There he found that he could make better time by commercial schedule than he could by any charter available. So he arrived hours later than he expected to, having spent the time cooped up with strangers (which he detested) and watching a stereo tank (which he detested only slightly less).
But it did inform him somewhat. He saw an insert of Supreme Bishop Short proclaiming a holy war against the Antichrist, i.e? Mike, and he saw too many shots of what was obviously an utterly ruined building - he failed to see how any of them had escaped alive. Augustus Greaves, in his most solemn lippmann tones, viewed with alarm everything about it but pointed out that, in every spite-fence quarrel, one neighbor supplies the original incitement - and made it plain that, in his weasel-worded opinion, the so-called Man from Mars was at fault.
At last Jubal stood on a municipal landing flat sweltering in winter clothes unsuited to the blazing sun overhead, noted that palm trees still looked like a poor grade of feather duster, regarded bleakly the ocean beyond them, thinking that it was a dirty unstable mass of water, certainly contaminated with grape fruit shells and human excrement even though he couldn't see such at this distance - and wondered what to do next.
A man wearing a uniform cap approached him. 'Taxi, sir?'
'Uh, yes, I think so.' At worst he could go to a hotel, call in the press, and give out an interview that would publicize his whereabouts - there was occasionally some advantage to being newsworthy.
'Over this way, sir.' The cabby led him out of the crowd and to a battered Yellow Cab. As he put his bag in after Jubal, the pilot said quietly, 'I offer you Water.'
'Eh? Never thirst.'
'Thou art God.' The hack driver sealed the door and got into his own compartment.
They wound up on a private landing flat on one wing of a big beach hotel - a four-car space, the hotel's own landing flat being on another wing. The pilot set the cab to home-in alone, took Jubal's bag and escorted him inside. 'You couldn't have come in too easily via the lobby,' he said conversationally, 'as the foyer on this floor is filled with some very badtempered cobras. So if you decide you want to go down to the street, be sure to ask somebody first. Me, or anybody - I'm Tim.'
'I'm Jubal Harshaw.'
'I know, brother Jubal. In this way. Mind your step.' They entered the hotel suite of the large, extreme luxury sort, and Jubal was led on into a bedroom with bath; Tim said, 'This is yours,' put Jubal's bag down and left. On the side table Jubal found water, glasses, ice cubes, and a bottle of brandy, opened but untouched. He was unsurprised
