This Present Darkness

by Frank E. Peretti

  Bernice picked up the phone again. “Al Lemley? This is Bernice Krueger. I work for Marshall. Can you bring those men to Ashton today?”

  “What? Hello?” Lemley was taken aback. “Are you real or a recording?”

  “Very real, and very much in need of your help. Marshall’s in jail and—”

  “In jail?”

  “A bum rap. It’s Kaseph’s doing. He’s taking over the Whitmore College today at 2, he has Marshall in the slammer to keep him out of the way, and I’m a fugitive at large. It’s a long story, but your friends will love it and we’ve secured the documents to prove every word of it.”

  “What was the name again?”

  Bernice labored through her name again and had to spell it twice. “Listen, they’ve bugged this phone, so they probably know where I am now, so would you please hurry up and get here and bring all the good guys you can find? There are none left in this town.”

  Al Lemley knew enough. “Okay, Bernice, I’ll do anything and everything I can. And those eight-balls who’ve bugged your phone had better be warned that if things aren’t downright peachy by the time we get there, there will most certainly be trouble!”

  “Make it the Administration Building on the Whitmore College campus at or before 2.”

  “See you then.”

  Now Kevin and Susan were beginning to lighten up a bit.

  “What was that you wanted?” asked Susan. “Another miracle?”

  The phone rang again. Bernice didn’t wait this time, but snatched it right up.

  A voice said, “Hello, this is State Attorney General Norm Mattily, calling for Marshall Hogan.”

  Susan couldn’t hold down a little squeal. Kevin said, “All right, all right!”

  Bernice spoke to Mattily. “Mr. Mattily, this is Bernice Krueger, a reporter for the Clarion. I work for Mr. Hogan.”

  “Oh … uh, yes …” Mattily seemed to be conferring with someone else. “Yes, uh, Eldon Strachan is standing right here with me, and he tells me there’s some kind of trouble there in Ashton—”

  “The worst kind. It’s all coming together today. We’ve gained some substantial evidence to show you. How soon can you get here?”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on doing that …”

  “The town of Ashton is going to be taken over by an international terrorist organization at 2 o’clock today.”

  “What?”

  Bernice could hear the muffled voice of Eldon Strachan, probably pounding away at Mattily’s other ear. “Uh … well, where is Mr. Hogan? Eldon is concerned for his safety.”

  “I am sure that Mr. Hogan is not at all safe. He and I were ambushed by the local mobsters last night during a routine investigation. Marshall fought them off while I fled. I’ve been in hiding ever since and I have no idea what’s happened to Mr. Hogan.”

  “What on earth! Are you …” Eldon kept on talking in Mattily’s other ear. “Well, I’m going to need some kind of concrete evidence, something that will wash legally …”

  “We have it, but we’ll need your direct and immediate intervention. Can you come, and bring some real police with you? It’s a matter of life and death.”

  “This had better be on the up and up!”

  “Get here, please, before 2. I would advise meeting us at the Administration Building on the Whitmore College campus.”

  “All right,” said Mattily, his voice still sounding a bit hesitant, “I’ll get down there and see whatever it is you have to show me.”

  Bernice hung up and the phone immediately rang again.

  “Clarion.”

  “Hello, this is County Prosecutor Justin Parker. With whom am I speaking?”

  Bernice clapped her hand over the receiver and whispered to Susan, “There is a God!”

  ALF BRUMMEL COULD not stand it anymore. Things were getting out of his control, things that had a lot to do with his own future and security. He could not stay away from the police station any longer. He had to be there to be sure of what was going on, to keep things from becoming irreversibly messed up, to … oh, where were those car keys?

  He got into his car and raced through town to the station.

  The Remnant was still singing in the parking lot when he arrived, and by the time he knew who they were and why they were there, it was too late to sneak away. He had to pull in and park.

  They converged on his car like a voracious swarm of mosquitoes.

  “Where have you been, chief?”

  “When’s Hank going to get out?”

  “Mary would like to see him.”

  “What in blazes do you think you’re doing to that man? He hasn’t raped anyone!”

  “You’d better be ready to kiss your job good-bye!”

  Best foot forward, Alf, if you intend to save the rest of you. “Uh, where is Mary?”

  Mary waved to him from the front steps of the courthouse. He tried to make a beeline for her, and once the people saw the direction he was heading, they were more willing to make way for him.

  Mary started asking him questions as soon as he was within earshot of her shouts. “Mr. Brummel, I would like to see my husband, and how dare you allow this travesty!”

  Brummel had never in his life seen sweet, seemingly vulnerable Mary Busche so feisty.

  He tried to think of what to say. “It’s been a real madhouse around here. I’m sorry I’ve been away …”

  “My husband is innocent and you know it!” she said quite firmly. “We don’t know how you intend to get away with this, but we are here to see that you don’t.”

  With that comment, a flurry of shouts in agreement thundered up from the crowd.

  Brummel tried the intimidation approach. “Now listen to me, all of you! No one is above the law, regardless of who they are. Pastor Busche has been accused as a sexual offender, and I have no choice but to carry out my duties as an officer of the law. I can’t help it if we are friends or fellow church members, this is a matter of law—”

  “Bunk!” came a deep-throated shout near Brummel.

  Brummel turned toward the voice to correct it, but then turned pale as he saw the face of Lou Stanley, his old comrade-in-arms.

  Lou stood his ground firmly, one hand on his belt, the other pointing right into Brummel’s face as he said, “You’ve talked about pulling a stunt like this many times, Alf! I’ve heard you say that all you needed was the right opportunity. Well, now I’m saying that you’ve done it. I’m accusing you, Alf! If anybody wants my testimony in any court of law against you, they’ve got it!”

  A cheer and some jeers went up.

  Then Brummel got another shock. Gordon Mayer, the church treasurer, stepped to the front of the crowd, and he too pointed his finger right in Brummel’s face.

  “Alf, simple dissent is one thing, but flat-out conspiracy is quite another. You’d better be really sure of what you’re doing.”

  Brummel was backed against the wall. “Gordon … Gordon, we have to do what’s best … we …”

  “Well, count me out!” Mayer said. “I’ve done enough for you!”

  Brummel turned away from his two former comrades, only to come face-to-face with the suddenly cleaned-up Bobby Corsi!

  “Hey, Chief Brummel,” said Bobby. “Remember me? Guess who I’m working for now.”

  Brummel was speechless. He began to walk toward the police department door, as if there would be some shelter in there from all this disaster.

  Andy Forsythe did not block his way, but walked close enough to him to cause him to stop.

  “Mr. Brummel,” said Andy, “there’s a young wife back there who would still like her requests considered.”

  Brummel walked more briskly. “I’ll see what I can do, all right? Let me check the status of things. Just wait. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  As quickly as he could, he ducked through the door and locked it behind him just in time. The crowd followed him like a wave and pressed up against the door, blockading him inside.

  His new
receptionist sat wide-eyed at the reception desk, looking out the window at all the angry faces.

  “Should … should I call the police?” she asked.

  “No,” said Brummel. “They’re just some friends here to see me.”

  With that, he disappeared into his office and closed the door.

  Juleen, Juleen! This was her fault! He was sick of her, sick of this whole thing!

  He saw a note on his desk. Sam Turner had left a message to call. He rang the number, and Sam answered.

  “How’s it looking, Sam?” Brummel asked.

  “No good, Alf. Listen, I’ve been on the phone all morning, and no one wants to call any emergency congregational meeting. They have no intentions of voting Hank out, and few of them buy this rape business. Let’s face it, Alf, you blew it.”

  “I blew it?” Brummel exploded. “I blew it? Wasn’t this your idea too?”

  “Don’t you say that!” came Turner’s reply very threateningly, “Don’t you ever say that!”

  “So now you’re not going to stand by me either.”

  “There’s nothing to stand by, Alf. The plan just didn’t fly. Busche is a Boy Scout and everybody knows it, and you just won’t get this rape charge to stick.”

  “Sam, we were in this together! It was going to work!”

  “It didn’t, buddy. Hank’s in to stay, that’s the way I see it, and I’m withdrawing from this whole thing. You do what you have to, but you’d better do something, or your name won’t be worth a dung heap by the time this is over.”

  “Well thanks a lot, buddy!” Brummel angrily hung up.

  He looked at the clock. It was just about noon. The meeting would take place in two hours.

  Hogan. He still had to get a message to Hogan about Sandy. Oh brother, here was another of Juleen’s fine messes. Sure, Juleen, you bet! I’m already pegged with this bum rap against Busche, and now you want me to go on record as an accessory to whatever you have planned for Sandy Hogan.

  And what about Krueger? Who had she been able to snitch to about this whole thing? He bolted from his office and went down the hall to the dispatch room.

  “Anything yet on that fugitive?” he asked the lone dispatcher.

  The dispatcher stuffed a bite of peanut butter sandwich into his cheek and said, “No, it’s been pretty quiet.”

  “Nothing even at the Clarion?”

  “There’s a strange car parked out back, but it’s out of state and they haven’t traced the plates yet.”

  “They haven’t …! Get those plates traced! Check that building! Somebody could be in there!”

  “They haven’t seen anybody—”

  “Check the building!” Brummel exploded.

  The receptionist called from up the hall, “Captain Brummel, Bernice Krueger is on the telephone. Should I take a message?”

  “Nooo!” he screamed, running up the hall to his office. “I’ll take it in here!”

  He slammed his office door behind him and grabbed his telephone. “Hello?” He hit the second button on his phone. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Alfred Brummel!” came a very condescending voice.

  “Bernice!”

  “It’s time we had a talk.”

  “All right. Where are you?”

  “Don’t be an absolute idiot. Listen, I’m calling to give you an ultimatum. I’ve been talking to the state attorney general, the county prosecutor, and the feds. I have evidence—and I mean some really hard stuff—that will blow your little plot wide open, and they’re all on their way here to see it.”

  “You’re bluffing!”

  “You have the conversations on tape, no doubt. Just play them back.”

  Brummel smiled a bit. She had given away where she was. “And just what is your ultimatum?”

  “Spring Hogan. Now. And call off your manhunt for me. In two hours I intend to show my face in this town, and I want no harassment, especially since I’ll be accompanied by many very special guests!”

  “You’re at the Clarion right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I am. And I can see … what’s his name? Kelsey, sitting out there in that old heap, he and his partner Michaelson. I want you to call those guys off. If you don’t, all the big boys in the world will know what happened to me. If you do, it can only help you.”

  “You’re … I still say you’re bluffing!”

  “Play your little bugging machine, Alf. See if I’m telling you the truth. I’ll wait to see that car pull away.”

  Click. She hung up.

  Brummel dashed to the cabinet and opened the doors. He pulled out the recorder. He hesitated, thought furiously, froze for a moment. He shoved the recorder back into the cabinet, slammed the doors shut, and dashed down the hall to the dispatch room.

  The dispatcher was still munching on his sandwich. Brummel reached right across his lap and grabbed the microphone, throwing the talk switch.

  “Units two and three, Kelsey, Michaelson, 10-19. Repeat: 10-19 immediately.”

  The dispatcher looked up with delight. “Hey! What happened? Did Krueger turn herself in?”

  Alf Brummel never was good at comebacks for stupid or ill-timed questions. He dashed up the hall to the front desk and dialed the courthouse.

  “Get me Dunlop.”

  Dunlop picked up the other end.

  “Jimmy, Hogan and Busche are being released on personal recognizance. Turn them loose.”

  Jimmy gave him some more dumb questions.

  “Just do what you’re told and leave the paperwork to me! Now go!”

  He slammed down the phone and disappeared into his office. The receptionist continued looking out the window at all those people. They were starting to sing again. It sounded kind of nice.

  BERNICE, SUSAN, and Kevin waited nervously for either a very good or a very bad thing to happen. Either Brummel would play ball, or they would be getting high on tear gas within minutes. But then they heard an engine starting up across the street.

  “Hey!” said Kevin.

  Susan still wrung her hands a little. Bernice just watched, unwilling to believe anything good too quickly.

  The old Ford pulled away, with both Kelsey and Michaelson in it.

  Bernice didn’t want to wait around. “Let’s pack all this stuff in that suitcase again and get over to the courthouse. Marshall’s going to need a catching up.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice!” said Kevin.

  All Susan could say was, “Thank you, God. Thank you, God!”

  ALF BRUMMEL HEARD only one short segment of one telephone conversation, the one between Bernice and State Attorney General Norm Mattily. He knew Mattily’s voice, and, yes, it made perfectly good sense that Eldon Strachan would go to Mattily, if Strachan had some genuinely reliable information.

  Brummel cursed aloud. Reliable information! All Mattily had to do was find this blankety-blank recorder sitting here, tapped illegally into all those phones!

  The receptionist buzzed him. He reached over to his desk and hit the intercom switch.

  “Yeah?” he said very crossly.

  “Juleen Langstrat on line two,” she said.

  “Take a message!” he said, and flipped off his switch.

  He knew why she was calling. She was going to nag him, remind him to be there at the afternoon meeting involving Sandy Hogan.

  He opened the other cabinet door and pulled out the records and stored tape recordings. Where in the world could he stash all this stuff? How could he destroy it?

  The receptionist buzzed him again.

  “What?”

  “She insists that you talk to her.”

  He picked up the telephone, and Langstrat’s oily voice came over the line.

  “Alf, are you ready for today?”

  “Yes,” he answered impatiently.

  “Then please come as soon as you can. We must prepare the energies of the rooms before the meeting begins, and I want to have all things in unison before Shawn arrives with Sandy.”
>
  “So you’re really going to bring her into this?”

  “Only as a safeguard, naturally. Marshall Hogan is out of the way, but we must be sure we keep him there, at least until all our efforts and visions have been fulfilled and the town of Ashton has been afforded its victorious leap into Universal Consciousness.” She paused to relish the thought for a moment, and then asked rather nonchalantly, “And have you heard any news of our runaway burglar?”

  Before he even knew why he was doing it, he lied. “No, nothing yet. She’s out of the way.”

  “Certainly. I’m sure she’ll be found soon enough, and after today she will have no hope at all.”

  He said nothing to that. He was suddenly distracted by a thought that poured over him like a ten-foot wave: Alf, she believed you. She really doesn’t know!

  “You will be here immediately, Alf?” she asked and ordered at the same time.

  She doesn’t know what’s been happening, was all Brummel could think. She’s vulnerable! I know something she doesn’t!

  “I’ll be right over,” he said mechanically.

  “See you soon,” she said with an authoritarian finality, and hung up.

  She doesn’t know! She thinks everything is going fine and there will be no trouble! She thinks she’ll get away with it all!

  Brummel let his thoughts race as he considered his options, his newly acquired exclusive knowledge, and the strange sense of power it gave him. Yes, it was all as good as over, and he was probably going to go down … but he had the power to bring that woman, that spider, that witch, down with him!

  Suddenly he had no desire to destroy the tapes and the records. Let the authorities find them. Let them find everything! Maybe he’d even show them.

  As for the Plan, if Kaseph and his Society are so all-knowing and so invincible, why should you tell them anything? Let them find out for themselves!

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to see your dear Juleen sweating for once?” asked Lucius.

  “It would be nice to see Juleen sweating for once,” Brummel muttered.

  CHAPTER 38

  HANK AND MARSHALL stepped out the basement door of the courthouse and found themselves all alone. Their friends were still congregated at the police department door, singing, talking, praying, demonstrating.