The Cold Smell Of Sacred Stone

'Did you plan to skim?'

'Yeah, I planned to skim.'

'How'd you make out?'

Harry August shook his head. 'I got food and clothing, but I never did get my hands on any money. Sure, there was a lot of money and goods coming in, but Tommy Carling already had that damn nun working with him, and she had eyes everywhere. That broad makes sure every penny is accounted for in her books, just in case anyone ever asks.'

'And to protect against people like you.'

'Yeah, I suppose so. Now there are dozens of volunteers-accountants, lawyers, money counters-to look after all the money and goods that come in. To tell you the truth, I haven't even been thinking much about stealing the past few weeks; the deaths of those two TV preachers kind of spooked me.'

'Afraid God is looking over your shoulder, Harry?'

'Come on, Frederickson; I'm not like those other fools. I just figure it's best not to take too many chances. After the Christmas Eve thing, even more money is going to be coming in. Something real big is going to happen; I can feel it.'

I frowned. 'What 'Christmas Eve thing'?'

'That's right; you don't know about it. Carling's going to issue a press release tonight.'

'What will the press release say?'

'Garth's going to make some kind of special announcement at midnight on Christmas Eve. Those fools think he's going to pronounce himself the Messiah.' August paused, shrugged. 'Maybe they're right. Hell, maybe Garth is the Messiah. I have to admit he'd make a good one.'

I felt a chill pass through me that had nothing to do with the weather. 'Garth told you this?'

'Hell, no. Nobody's even seen Garth for days. He's supposed to have gone into retreat to prepare for the big announcement. He'll hold a press conference inside the bathhouse, with the public invited to attend. It's going to be something; Carling plans to make some kind of satellite hookup so the whole world can hear what Garth has to say, when he says it.'

'Who told you all this?'

'Tommy Carling. He actually runs the whole operation, you know. Garth doesn't care about anything but doing his own thing, so somebody has to take care of business. Maybe that will all change after Christmas Eve.'

'And you don't have any idea where Garth could be?'

'No.'

'Who does?'

'Carling may know, but if he does he isn't telling. He says Garth doesn't want to be disturbed.'

'What about Marl Braxton? Does he know where Garth is?'

'I don't know … I don't think so. He's been just kind of moping around the place, looking lost, since Garth disappeared. Braxton's a tough man, but he spooks me. I think he's crazy, and Garth is the only thing holding him together.' August paused, took a deep breath, then tentatively touched me on the shoulder. 'Look, Frederickson, you're picking on me-but I'm not the only phony hanging around there.'

'Harry, that wouldn't surprise me at all. You're not the only con man, I'm sure, who smelled money in the thing growing up around Garth.'

'You don't understand what I'm saying. I may have made Garth famous, but I'm just a little guy in that organization; nobody pays any attention to me, and I don't have any say in what goes on. I'm talking about a big shot.'

'Which big shot is a phony?'

'The nun.'

'Sister Kate?'

'Yeah. She's good at keeping track of money, and I'd probably be a rich man now if she wasn't; but if she's a nun, then I'm Mickey Mouse.'

'How do you know she's not a nun?'

'Because I am a con artist, and it takes one to know one-or even two. She and Tommy Carling are thick with each other, and I don't believe they met for the first time at the bathhouse; I think they knew each other before. I keep my dark glasses on for effect, and I guess maybe people tend to forget that I really can see. Well, I do see things, and I say there's something going on between Carling and that broad. They're always schmoozing with each other, if you know what I mean. I think they're planning to steal all the money eventually.'

'Frederickson!'

'Hello, Dane,' I said to the big teenager I'd found by himself, looking rather forlorn, staring out a thick Plexiglas window of the hospital's recreation room. His eyes had lit up when he'd seen me.

'What are you doing here, man?'

'I came to say hello, Dane. Christmas can be a lonely time when you're locked up someplace and you have nobody to share it with. I figured a lot of the other kids would be on home leave, and you might like some company.'

The boy swallowed, looked down at his feet. 'Yeah. The kids here miss you, Frederickson; I miss you. You're a good teacher.'

'Thank you. I'll make it a point to visit more often. For now, how would you like to come out with me for the day?'

The boy quickly looked at me, then averted his gaze as sadness moved in his eyes. 'I'd love to, Frederickson, but I can't. I'm DFY. I can't go home, and I can't go out with volunteers.'

I still had my master key from the clinic, and I'd been pleased, if not surprised, to find that it opened the doors in the children's hospital as well. I'd been prepared to spring Dane Potter illegally, if necessary, but I'd found a better way. 'A special dispensation from the director here, Dane. It seems you've been displaying some very positive changes in behavior and attitude, and your therapist thinks it may have something to do with the relationship between you and me; she thinks I'm a good role model-which you and I know is nonsense, Dane, but we won't tell her. I have permission to take you into the city for a few hours to check out all the decorations and lights. If it works out, they may let me take you out again.'

'I'd like that very much, Frederickson,' the boy said quietly. 'I won't cause any trouble.'

'Oh, I know you won't-because I'll kick the shit out of you if you try.'

Dane Potter laughed. 'Yeah, I know.'

'It looks like you could use some clothes. Maybe we'll do a little shopping after we check out Rockefeller Center.'

'You don't have to buy me anything, Frederickson. It's enough that you'll take me out of here for a couple of hours.'

'Buying you slacks, sneakers, and maybe a sweater would be my pleasure. Dane. It would be a Christmas present, but it would also be a little payment for something I'd like you to do for me.'

'What do you want me to do, Frederickson?'

'I'll let you know. You ready to roll?'

Dane Potter grinned. 'Yeah, man.'

Traffic was heavy with last-minute Christmas shoppers, and it took almost two hours to get into the city and down to the Bowery. I left the car in a garage, and walked with Dane Potter the three blocks to the bathhouse. I steered him around the traffic circle, took up a position across the street. There was a crush of people around the bathhouse, but most of them looked like tourists-with the needy now being cared for in various caring houses around the city. Police barricades had been set up, and the lines of people were being greeted by green-jacketed members of Garth's People, who were also handing out free coffee, doughnuts, and cookies. Above the bathhouse, the new glass dome gleamed like a diamond in this coal-mine neighborhood.

'What is it you want me to do, Frederickson?'

'Just be patient, Dane. Any time we spend here, I'll make up to you later, or on another visit.'

'What are all those people doing over there?'

I said something about Christmas shoppers as I kept scanning the crowds in front of the bathhouse. There