just trying to keep people safe. The whole city’s on edge, wouldn’t take much to push it over.”
“Jesus.”
“They’re setting up port-a-potties at the perimeter of the parks,” Chris added from the front seat, “but it’s not enough. The Red Cross has first aid tents up, and they’re distributing water, best they can.”
Samson said, “High today is eighty-two, eighty-eight tomorrow. People gonna be roasting out there, and there’s gonna be a riot before this thing is over. A riot, or worse. Folks don’t realize how fragile the social order is, I’m telling you.”
Traffic ground to gridlock as they reached downtown. They turned onto Peachtree a few blocks north of Five Points, and inched through the sea of souls.
Pedestrians packed the wide sidewalks, sometimes spilling out into the curb lanes. Vendors stood elbow to elbow, hawking Tim Trinity T-shirts, Tim Trinity posters, blue bibles, battery-powered fans, and bottled water.
They rode on in silence as Daniel took in the scene outside the window.
People playing drums and tambourines, banjos and guitars.
People dancing and chanting.
Young people, singing about peace and love and salvation.
Old men, spewing bile about hellfire and damnation.
Some marched slowly, amidst the chaos, carrying placards.
PREPARE THE WAY OF THE LORD
USA IS GOD COUNTRY
REV. TRINITY WILL SAVE US
Daniel just stared, thinking:
The presidential suite was a hive of activity, people assembling desks, setting up computers, running phone lines. Flat panel televisions were scattered around the room, tuned to CNN, MSNBC, FoxNews, BBC, CBCNewsworld, SkyNews, half of them running stories about Tim Trinity.
“Danny, welcome!” Trinity called, over the sound of televisions and cordless drills and ringing phones. “Thrilled to have you back.” He gestured to the blonde woman who’d appeared on stage with him a few days earlier. “Meet Liz Doherty, our public relations director.” Daniel shook Liz Doherty’s hand. “And over there is Jennifer Bartlett,” pointing across the room where a curvaceous, pretty young woman in a conservative suit smiled and wiggled her fingers at them while talking on the phone, “my secretary.” Then he made a comic face. “I mean, my
“Tim, what the hell is going on around here?”
Trinity beamed. “We Big Time, son! We on a roll.” He pointed his cigarette at the television on the wet bar. “BBC, baby! Where’s your suitcase?”
Daniel couldn’t think, couldn’t process the input fast enough. “I…uh, I don’t…I traveled under unusual circumstances. I don’t have it.” He held up his carry-on. “This is all I brought.”
“Well then, you’re gonna need new clothes, supplies.” He called across the room, “Jennifer, give Danny five thousand from petty cash.”
“I didn’t ask you for money,” Daniel said.
Trinity waved it away. “A raindrop in the storm, don’t trouble your mind over it. Already had to hire three more phone banks to handle calls. We’re drawing a million every couple hours, ’round the clock, praise God.”
“You can’t possibly think I find this in any way impressive,” Daniel said, keeping his voice even. Trinity’s smile lost an inch; he’d just been insulted in front of his people. “And how did you know I was on that flight?”
The smile returned to full wattage. Trinity gestured to the floor-to-ceiling windows, to the sun-baked city, seventy-five stories down. “It ain’t just those people in tents. In the short time you’ve been gone, we have experienced a
“I just flushed my life down the fucking toilet for you!” Daniel shouted. “For
The entire room fell to silence.
The television news channels all ran together on low volume, combining to make a white noise of background blather, punctuated with words such as
Trinity raised his hands to encompass everyone in the suite. “Ladies and gentlemen, my nephew is upset. We need some time. Please, give us the room.”
“Yes, sir,” said Samson from the doorway. Everyone filed out quietly, and Samson followed suit, closing the door behind.
Trinity crossed to the bar, switched the television off. He poured Blanton’s into a couple of rocks glasses, added ice from the freezer, handed one of the glasses to Daniel. He spoke quietly. “You didn’t flush your life down the toilet for me, son. You flushed it to find the truth. And the truth is, you didn’t flush it at all. Hell, you’ve been a priest for all the wrong reasons—”
“Don’t,” said Daniel. “Just, don’t. You are the last person on earth who gets to analyze me. And while we’re on the subject, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me
“Ouch,” whispered Trinity. He drank down the bourbon, nodded sadly to himself, and spoke into his ice. “OK, I laid it on a little thick when you arrived, I admit that. Just wanted you to see a lot of people believe in me. I mean, believe God is at work in me.” He looked straight at Daniel. “I know you think I’m a con man, and yes, I am…I was. But things are different now. Now I believe. Not saying I been saved or born again or any of that jazz. Just that now I know there
“What, he wants you to be
“No, no, no, that’s all just the theater of it, you’re missin’ the purpose. And the money’s just a side-effect, I swear.”
“Then what is the purpose?”
“Don’t know.” Trinity put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, just as he’d done at Judas’s backyard funeral. “But I do know He wants you here with me. Had me a dream last night. God told me He wants you at my right hand.”
“Now He talks to you in dreams?”
“I think He did last night. Maybe He…maybe He wants you here, to keep me on the narrow path.” He let out a wry chuckle, “You, of all people, know that ain’t gonna be easy for a guy like me, and I sure could use your help. And your advice.”
“My first advice is to tell you to stop acting like a carnival barker.”
Trinity shrugged. “Tough habit to break after thirty-nine years. I’m working on it. Like I said, it’s the theater of the thing. But I need advice about the deeper stuff, the stuff I don’t understand. Hell, I got US senators callin’, asking
Daniel put his untouched bourbon on the bar. “I don’t know, Tim.” He headed for the door. “I’m gonna go for a walk, get a chilidog.”
