Masquerade

aware of what he’d just said? It was right out of the Synoptic Gospels. The classic scene of the devil tempting Jesus. David had used the text so often he knew it verbatim: “Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; and saith unto him, ‘All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.’”

The parallel was so striking, at least to David, that he thought it incredible that it might not have occurred to Krieg. Krieg promising him all of Mission Viejo and a slice of P.G. Enterprises if David would fall off his high horse and sign the blasted contract. He felt like borrowing the words of Scripture: “Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, ‘Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve.’”

Benbow regarded Krieg intently. Apparently, he was oblivious to the similarity of his statement to that famous passage of the Gospel. Still, David harbored doubts. Krieg, after all, was a preacher. Who should be more familiar with Scripture? Did he have some sort of defense mechanism that blocked any comparison between him and Satan? David thought the latter supposition more probable.

Neither of them had spoken for nearly five minutes. While David pondered this singular proposition, Krieg appeared simply to be enjoying the evening: the food, the drink, the weather; the comfort and security of his P.G. empire.

“Well?” Krieg said at length.

David responded with a wordless, quizzical look.

“See here, David,” Krieg said, “P.G. Press has been romancin’ you for quite a spell now. You had to know that’s what this weekend was all about. We want you. I want you. When you gonna sign that contract?”

David’s quizzical look turned to one of wonderment. “But Klaus, I’ve given you my answer-many times more than once.”

“You haven’t given the right answer yet.”

“It’s the only answer I’ve got.”

“You got somethin’ against money, wealth?”

“Of course not, Klaus. I’m a priest. I know what it is to stretch a meager salary. But we’re doing all right now, between Martha’s income and my salary. . and, of course, the books.”

“You could make more with me, a lot more.”

“Maybe”-a noticeably more resolute tone crept in-“maybe not. Maybe I would not be able to deliver what you would demand of me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Advice from a friend.”

“Sales reps don’t know everything there is to know about the publishing business. They’re just out there beatin’ the pavement and talkin’ to bookstore owners and the chains.”

“How did you-?” David didn’t complete the question. He wouldn’t have said anything if he hadn’t been so startled: How did Krieg know the advice came from a sales representative in his parish?

Quickly, David recovered. “Look, Klaus, I happen to believe the advice, and I respect the person who gave it to me. I simply don’t want to chance signing with you. If you want me to say I am flattered you want me so badly, I’ll gladly say it. Just about any author would be pleased, complimented beyond measure, to be courted as perseveringly as you have me, especially with this lavish weekend. But it doesn’t matter what you say, Klaus; my answer is no.”

“It might matter what I say.”

“What do you mean?”

Krieg swirled the last sip of cognac around the bottom of the snifter. “There’s Pam.”

“What!”

“Pamela Richardson.”

Her full name! God! How did he know? How did he know what food was David’s favorite? How did he know who had given him the advice to steer clear of P.G. Press? How did he know about Pam? How in hell did he know!

“Right about now, you’re probably wondering how I know.”

Was he clairvoyant?

“Now look, David, when I want something I get it. It’s happened just about all my life. ’Course I don’t get a fix on just anything. I make sure I really want it ’fore I go after it. But, then, when I decide this is what I want, why I just go out and get it.”

Impossible! No one can do that, get whatever he wants. On second thought, he’d have to amend that: No one he knew could do that. But then he didn’t intimately know anyone in Krieg’s income bracket. Oh, there were his wealthy relatives, of course. But he hadn’t had any contact with them in years. Maybe it was true; maybe if money was no obejct, maybe you could get whatever you wanted.

But Krieg was not going to get David Benbow by default. Maybe there was a bluff to call somewhere here.

“Pamela Richardson,” David said. “Someone I’m supposed to know?”

Krieg burst out laughing. “I’d say so-even in the Biblical sense. You’ve had carnal knowledge of her lots and lots of times.” He took a black notepad from his jacket pocket and began leafing through it. “Would you like some dates?”

Could he still be bluffing?

“So, you have dates in a notebook. That means nothing. It’s no more than your word against mine.”

From the corner of the balcony railing, Krieg picked up a large manila envelope. It had been there all the while, but David hadn’t noticed it.

Krieg removed the envelope’s contents and fingered through a series of 8? 10 glossy photos. He handed them to David, who looked at them one by one. They were black-and-white shots of him and Pam-almost everywhere: walking arm-in-arm down a tree-lined street, picnicking on the grass of a public park, dining in a restaurant. All very innocuous-yet pictures of almost every time in recent memory that they had chanced being together publicly. He had expected the stereotypical sleazy bedroom shots. He was greatly relieved.

“So? I have been in the company of a young lady a few times. Is there any law against that? God or man’s?”

“David, David. .” Krieg shook his head. “You must have caught on by this time. C’mon, you’re a smart kid. I know more about you than anyone-your mother, your wife, your mistress, anybody. I just showed you the tip of the iceberg. I thought you’d be impressed that I knew who touted you out of signing my contract. Then there’s knowing every blessed thing you like to eat, that you don’t mind cigar smoke-pipes, for that matter-the name of your mistress. Weren’t those fine, clear shots of you and Pamela?

“We could go on, David, but I wanted to spare you the tapped phone conversations, the tapes of all those amorous affairs that took place in her apartment-we erased the small talk, gossip, and things like that, and concentrated on the sexy sounds and sweet nothings. Do you really want me to trot out all that. . really?”

David slumped, figuratively and literally. He had to admit that it was feasible that Krieg, immorally and technically, had procured all he claimed to. Benbow had never been so embarrassed. Not even as a child. Someone had shredded his privacy and recorded his most secret words and intimate actions. He gave hardly any thought to begging Krieg for mercy. The man had made it crystal clear that he got what he wanted. And he wanted David.

Shame gave way to an intense anger. “Klaus, this is blackmail!”

Krieg smiled ruefully and shrugged.

“It’s blackmail!” David repeated. “And you, a Christian minister! Have you no shame!”

“Me? I didn’t sneak around to a young lady’s apartment-a vulnerable young lady. .”

Vulnerable. It was the word used by the Reverend Massey that had so affected Benbow. Had Krieg bugged that conversation too? By now, David would have put nothing past the man.

“I didn’t sneak around to a vulnerable young lady’s apartment,” Krieg repeated, “to seduce her and carry on an adulterous relationship after having been advised to break it off not once but twice! And you think I should be ashamed!”

“All right, all right,” David said. “I’ve sinned. I won’t excuse myself.

But I failed. I was weak. Your sin is coldly deliberate. Your sin is full of malice. And you won’t get away with