Jonas marveled. Branson’s idiotic idea had, somehow, worked.
“I need to go,” he said. “I need to get this to Branson right away.”
“That’s smart,” Wyatt said. “I’m not the only person who knows the Oracle’s name, and I’m sure word will get out soon. I thinkBranson should be the one to tell the world, though. He should be first. He deserves it, after everything he’s done.”
Jonas lifted his eyes, to see Branson across the dressing room, powder being applied to his face as he angrily berated theset designers for some small failure.
“Yes,” he said. “He does. I need to go, Matt. Thank you. I owe you.”
Jonas disconnected the call. He watched Branson for a few moments, thinking.
He thought about faith, and whether it was ever anything other than a Hollywood back lot, a beautiful façade with absolutelynothing behind it.
The Oracle was a man named Will Dando.
He lifted his phone again and swiped it on. He checked his e-mail, giving the Oracle one last chance. Jonas noted with absolutelyno surprise that there was nothing—no response from the man, Will Dando, who knew the future.
At that moment, for the first time in his long life as a believer, faith suddenly seemed ridiculous—a game for children andidiots. Useless, except as a tool to manipulate other people. A lie.
Branson had told him that, back in his saint-filled study. He had used almost those exact words.
Faith was gone. Faith wouldn’t—couldn’t—help him. Jonas cast around in his soul for something that might replace it and settledon the face of the man who had told him the truth from the very start.
Branson was a liar—but he had never lied to him.
Faith had failed. All he had left was loyalty. Loyalty made sense. Loyalty might actually get you somewhere.
Jonas addressed the makeup artists and set designers and assorted hangers-on clustered around Branson.
“I need you to leave now,” Jonas said.
Branson looked up, surprised.
“What? We’re not finished here, Brother Jonas.”
“Trust me,” he said to Branson, and then “Go,” to the attendants, gesturing at the door.
After an uncertain look at the reverend, looking for some sort of contravention of Jonas’ directive and finding none, theyleft.
“What is this?” Branson said, sounding annoyed.
“The Oracle’s name is Will Dando,” Jonas said, and then he explained how he knew.
Branson’s face went pale under the stage makeup, then returned to his normal, hearty color as he smiled at his own reflectionin the mirror.
“Well,” he said, “thank God for small favors.”
Chapter 34
“Why is she here, Will?” Hamza said, not looking away from the monitor, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
“I promised her an interview,” Will said. “She just went through hell because of me. It’s the least I can do.”
“That’s not my point. I thought we were scrubbing this place before we run. We need to be gone in ten minutes, twenty at most.”
“I still have to finish packing,” Will answered. “I’ll talk to her while I do that.”
Will walked toward his bedroom, glancing into the bathroom as he passed, where Miko was standing over the bathtub, busilystirring a paper-dissolving slurry of water, vinegar, and salt with a broomstick handle. Next to her on the floor stood alarge shredder, with a pile of papers—notes on the Site’s plan, printouts of e-mails—sitting on the sink, ready to be consumed.
“Almost done,” she said, not looking up. “Hurry up, Will.”
The bedroom was tiny and cluttered, occupied mainly by instruments, recording gear, and an unmade bed. Will reached underthe bed and pulled out a duffel bag. He looked around the room, trying to decide if he actually needed to bring any of thiswith him.
“I can’t believe you called me,” Leigh Shore said. “We got off that helicopter yesterday and I thought I’d never see you again.”
She was leaning against the wall in jeans, a black misfits T-shirt, and an unzipped hoodie.
“I felt like I owed you one,” Will said, throwing a few changes of clothes into the bag. “And I wanted to tell you that you’resafe. They won’t come after you. At least until November, and this should all be over by then.”
“November?” Leigh asked, making no move toward any sort of recording or note-taking technology. “I’m safe until . . . November?”
“Yes. From the president, anyway. From the rest of the world, I don’t know, but the U.S. government is off our backs for thenext six months.”
“How did you do it?” Leigh said. Her tone was flat, odd. “I thought we were dead. How did you make them let us go?”
“I knew we were all right as soon as I saw U.S. flags,” Will said. “I was always afraid it’d be Libya, or someplace like that.”
“Libya?” Leigh said.
“Libya, North Korea, whatever. France. You know what I mean. Some country we wouldn’t want to be kidnapped by. It doesn’tmatter.”
“Will, please,” Leigh said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. “How did you do it?”
“The president was there. Just in the other room,” Will answered, speaking quickly. “After they took you guys out, that Leuchtenguy fed me a line of bullshit about the government sending me the predictions in the first place.”
“What?” Leigh said, her voice sharpening.
“It’s bullshit, Leigh. And I’ll tell you why.”
Will tossed a few framed photos into his bag.
“One of the predictions was . . . well, if the U.S. government was behind the Oracle, they would never have sent it. There’sno way. You know I didn’t put all the predictions I got up on the Site, right? I held some back?”
“If you tell me that’s what you did, then all right, that’s what you did,” Leigh answered.
“Well, I did. Not even Hamza knows them all, and some of them I held back because it seemed like they could come in handyif certain things . . .
“Look. I’m getting off track,” he said. “Back in Virginia, I insisted that I needed to talk to President Green directly. Aftera while, they let me, and then I told him two things, and all of us were out of there ten minutes later.”
Leigh looked at him.
“Are you going to tell me what you told the president, Will?”
Will hesitated. He
