“I don’t need your protection, Papa Jim. I’ve told you a hundred times, God’s the only protection I need.”
“What about Kate? If you’re not going to worry about yourself, at least think about your mother.”
Ethan took a deep breath, then seemed to force himself to speak calmly. “You don’t understand. There isn’t much time. You have to put the site back up, Papa Jim.”
Papa Jim frowned. “There you go again with the dire hints and prognostications. Can’t you get it into your head that people don’t like to hear that sort of language?”
“I don’t have time for any other sort of language,” Ethan rejoined angrily. “I’m not talking in parables or metaphors here. When I say the Day of Judgment is coming, I mean exactly that. But it’s like you’re all deaf to it!” He raised his eyes as if to Heaven. “They have ears, but they can’t hear. Eyes, but they can’t see.”
“Calm down, Ethan. I’m on your side, okay? I haven’t mentioned this to you, because I didn’t want to worry you, but Homeland Security is on the verge of shutting us down permanently. I’m doing everything I can not to give them an excuse. That’s why I pulled out of the tour. That’s why I took the web site down. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first, but we need to give the hotheads at Homeland Security time to cool off. We need to show them that we’re not a threat.”
“How, by doing their work for them? By censoring ourselves? Putting ourselves into our own internment camp? No thanks, Papa Jim. My father didn’t send me here to keep quiet, to hide myself away at the first sign of trouble. I have a job to do, and I can’t do it under these conditions.”
“I’m just asking you to be patient,” Papa Jim said soothingly. “Give me a little more time, that’s all. A few days. A week. Don’t I deserve at least that much?”
“I’m sorry, Papa Jim,” Ethan said, “but I don’t have any more time to waste. I’m grateful for all your help, don’t think I’m not. But you can’t help now. I have to walk the rest of my path alone. I see that now.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you think you can just walk out of here? This is a secure facility! You’re not going anywhere, Ethan.”
“What are you going to do, lock me up?”
“Don’t be melodramatic. If I keep you here, it’s for your own safety.”
“You can’t keep me here, Papa Jim.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Ethan shrugged, then turned to leave.
“Wait! Where do you think you’re going?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “To say good-bye to Kate.” Without another word, he left the office, shutting the door behind him.
“The hell you say,” muttered Papa Jim, calling up the AEGIS internal security grid on his computer screen. The grid showed the identity and location of every person within the Conversatio compound. He watched as the red dot representing Ethan moved toward the blue dot that was Kate. He activated his implant. “Denny?”
The reply was immediate. Yeah, boss.
“I need you to play nursemaid for a while.”
Is it the kid?
“Who else? He’s got it into his head to refuse our hospitality. He’s gone to say good-bye to his mother. I want you to meet him outside her quarters and escort him back to his own room then make sure he stays there until I say otherwise. Got it?”
Got it, boss.
Unlike his brother, Ethan had only a very limited knowledge of future events. That knowledge came to him spontaneously, or so it seemed, for the most part independently of his will or desire. It had been different when he was a boy, but since he had regained his memories of the past and his knowledge of his identity, the future had been as if enveloped in a dense fog that only cleared sporadically. There were times when he could, by focusing intently, cause that fog to thin and fray and see through it the vague outline of some future event, but the things he had glimpsed in such exercises had convinced him that it was better not to seek to know.
Jesus, on the contrary, had foreseen everything about his life and death. There was not a moment, not a second, when that bloody future was not present in his mind’s eye. In a very real sense, from the moment that he awakened to his true identity and purpose on this earth as a young boy, Jesus had been nailed upon the cross. When time finally caught up to him after thirty-three years, when his limbs were stretched out upon that cruel bed and the spikes hammered in, it had been a relief, like fitting the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle.
Not only that, but Jesus had seen how his future might be different if he exercised his free will to choose a different path. There were many possible futures. But only one in which he fulfilled the task his father had set him. It hadn’t been easy to live each day with the image before him of his last lonely hours upon the cross, pain-wracked, mocked, and deserted, while, like some insidious argument from the lips of the devil himself, countervailing images crowded in, of lives that lasted beyond even the promised threescore and ten, lives in which he was married, had children, grandchildren, knew every mortal joy and sorrow, but carried the burden of no one’s sins but his own. Was it any wonder, Ethan had often thought, trying to imagine himself into his brother’s life, hoping to find clues to his own there, that Jesus was called the Man of Constant Sorrow?
But that multiplicity of foreknowledge had been a necessary part of Jesus’ sacrifice. He had knowingly given up not only his life but all those alternate lives. That was the task and test that God had set him.
Ethan had been set a different task. A different test. One in which foreknowledge was less important. It was as if he needed to experience the flow of time in the way that regular people did. And for the most part, that’s how it was.
But not always. Sometimes, as in the moments before Lisa’s death, Ethan was vouchsafed a glimpse of things to come. Other times, it was less vivid than that, not a glimpse but a feeling, a premonition. He would be flooded with an emotion that had no apparent connection to the present moment yet was mysteriously, inextricably, tied to it. It was like experiencing the effect before the cause.
Now, as he stood outside Kate’s door, his hand raised to knock, another door swung open, and out of it, like a blast of frigid air, so that he clutched himself against the chill of it, came a piercing sense of loss and sorrow and guilt. His vision blurred as if with tears, and the surface of the door seemed to waver as though it were no more substantial than fog, seeming to come apart in wispy shreds.
With a low moan, he shut his eyes and looked away. He clenched his fists tight, the nails digging in to his palms.
Father, he prayed, help me to be wise. Brother, lend me some of your strength; I think I’m going to need it . . .
He heard the door open.
“Why, Ethan, are you all right?”
He blinked and saw Kate gazing at him with concern. He forced a smile to his lips. “I’m fine,” he said.
“You look like you’ve been crying. Here, you’d better come in.”
She stood aside, and he slipped past her into the room, taking the opportunity to knuckle his eyes dry. One thing he had to give Papa Jim: If this compound was a kind of prison, it was first class all the way. Kate’s suite of rooms, like his own, was a step up from even the most elegant and elaborately appointed hotel suites they’d stayed at on the Godsent tour. The view of the Arizona desert, with the mountains in the distance, was breathtaking.
“Here, let me get you a glass of water,” said Kate, making her way to the kitchen area.
Ethan followed. He accepted the glass of cold water she handed him and took a long drink. “Thanks, Kate,” he said.
She looked at him critically. “Well, what’s he done now?”
“What’s who done?”
“Who else? That great-grandfather of yours.”
Ethan was happy to avoid the real cause of his distress. He didn’t think he could talk about it anyway. “He pulled the plug on the web site,” he said. “He’s worried about Homeland Securit
y shutting us down.”
But Kate wasn’t buying it. “Somehow I can’t imagine you shedding any tears over that,” she said. “Come on. Give me the real story.”
He finished off the glass of water to give himself time to think. “All right, Kate. I admit it. I’m mad at Papa Jim, but that’s not what’s got me upset.”
“I knew it.”
“It’s you.”
“Me?”
“I keep thinking about what happened to Lisa, and how I couldn’t protect her. I don’t want that to happen to you. I’ve already lost one mother.”
“That’s sweet, Ethan, but nothing’s going to happen to me, not with Trey and Wilson on the job.”
“All the same, I wish you’d do me a favor.”
“Anything, if I can.”
“Go away for a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied firmly. “Not after all we’ve been through. Besides, I have faith in you, and faith moves mountains, right?”
“But does it stop bullets? Does it stop bombs?”
She blinked, at a loss for words.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he stressed, looking her in the eye. “Things are getting crazy now. Take Trey and Wilson and make the old man fly you somewhere for a week or so. Think of it as a vacation. You’ve earned it.”
“What, just when things are getting interesting? No way, José.”
He smiled then, and gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything you’ve been through. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
“I don’t have any regrets,” she said. She drew away, holding him at arm’s length and staring into his eyes. “How could I? I’m so proud of you, Ethan.”
“I hope you always will be.”
At that, her eyes narrowed. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“Kate, I . . .”
Her shoulders sagged. “I knew it.”
“It’s just . . . This isn’t where I’m supposed to be right now. I need to finish what I’ve started.”
“Take me with you.”
“I can’t do that, Kate. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“Why not? You just asked me to leave this place. Why shouldn’t I go with you?”
“It’s too dangerous. I can’t protect you.”
“I don’t care about that. God is all the protection I need.”
Ethan couldn’t help smiling at this echo of his own words to Papa Jim. “You’re an amazing woman, Kate. Despite everything that’s happened to you, your faith is still strong. I’m proud to be your son.”
“My faith is strong because of everything that’s happened, not despite it. I’ve been so blessed, Ethan! I don’t know God’s plan for me, or for any of us, but I do know that He has a plan, that all of this is part of a grand design born out of His love for us.”
“Then accept that my leaving now is part of that plan.”
Her eyes welled with tears, but she nodded. “A long time ago, someone told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said, ‘God doesn’t ask the easy things of us, but he doesn’t ask what is beyond our ability to give, either.’”
“Sounds like a wise man,” said Ethan.
“God has asked some hard things of me,” Kate continued, “but I don’t think He’s ever asked anything harder than this. I’ve only just found you, Ethan. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You can never lose me, Kate. I’ll always be with you.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of one wrist, like a cat cleaning itself with its paw. The gesture tore at Ethan’s heart. “It’s just . . .” She swallowed nervously. “I’m afraid something is going to happen to you. I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.” She flashed him an embarrassed smile. “Some faith, huh?”
“Yes,” Ethan said. “Some faith. I’ll be back, Kate. I promise.”
She nodded solemnly.
“But I want you to promise me something too,” he said, quick to seize the opening she had given him. “Take Trey and Wilson and go away for a while.”
“Not that again!”
“Yes, that again.”
“Is it so important to you?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why? Is something going to happen to me if I don’t go?”
He saw again the wisps of fog parting . . .
“I don’t know,” he said, forcing the image from his mind. “Maybe. I just want to make sure you’re safe, and this isn’t a safe place right now.”
“You’ve seen something? Like with Lisa?”
“Not like Lisa,” he lied. “But I’ll feel a lot better if you’re somewhere else for the next week or so. Will you do it, Kate? For me?”
“All right, Ethan,” she said. “Since it means so much to you. I’ll talk to Papa Jim and arrange it.”
He exhaled in relief. “Thank God.”
After that, the conversation shifted to less weighty matters. Kate asked him to stay for dinner, and while she cooked, she told him about the grandparents he had never known, and about her childhood, and her years in the convent. Ethan, in turn, talked about Lisa and Gordon, and what it had been like growing up in Olathe. He told her about his friendship with Peter, and how things had gone so badly wrong with Maggie, and how torn up about it he was. It was the kind of dinner they hadn’t had much of a chance to share before now. But by the end of it, they both felt closer, folded more snugly into the bonds of family.
Denny was waiting outside the door when Ethan left. He had a pair of munchies with him.
“Hi, kid.”
“Hey, Denny.”
“Sorry about this, but the boss wants you on ice for a while.”
“That’s all right. I kind of figured he wasn’t going to let me just walk out.”
“Why the hell would you even want to? In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve got a shitload of enemies out there. You wouldn’t last two seconds.”
“I might surprise you, Denny.”
“Yeah, kid, you might at that. But you’re not going to get the chance. My orders are to escort you back to your quarters and make sure you stay there.”
Ethan glanced at the two munchies. “Did you think I might put up a fight or something?”
Denny sighed. “Don’t pull my chain, okay, kid? The boss said bring backup, so I did. End of story. You got problems with that, take it up with him.”
“Sorry, Denny,” said Ethan. “I know you’re just doing your job. I don’t mean to make things any harder. Let’s go, then.”
Afterward, when he had stumbled back to the quiet solitude of his small and frugally appointed room, the Swiss Guards no longer escorting but actually supporting him, as if he were drunk or ill, the first thing Father O’Malley did was lower himself gingerly to his knees and try to pray for strength and guidance. Yet even as he did so, he couldn’t help wondering if he was acting of his own accord or following the dictates of Grand Inquisitor. He had entered the mind of GI, and that mind, in turn, had entered him. But what he could not be sure of was that it had left him when he had exited the chamber that housed the noötic field. Had he carried a piece of Grand Inquisitor out with him, like a computer virus smuggled into an otherwise innocuous piece of software?
For some reason, the possibility of it had never occurred to him. In all the time he’d spent pouring over the code produced by Grand Inquisitor, trying not just to understand it but to penetrate it, to look through it, as through a window, at the intelligence on the other side of the glass, not once had it crossed his mind that the object of his curiosity was capable of looking back. Of more than just looking back. He felt both frightened and humbled by this encounter with an intelligence so far transcending his own that being in its presence had been like interacting with a god. Like a theophany. Was that, he wondered now, what the Congregation had inadvertently created? A god? But no, he told himself, that was blasphemy. There was only one God. Gran
d Inquisitor was something else.
A devil, then? Or the Antichrist itself? How ironic, thought O’Malley, if the very thing they had built to seek out the Antichrist had become that which it sought! Wouldn’t that just serve them right! Only with difficulty did he repress an urge to giggle.
He felt giddy. All the nerves in his body seemed to be vibrating at once. He couldn’t pray properly in this condition, and prayer had never come easily to him anyway. He was too self-conscious about his weight to surrender to it; even alone he kept imagining the comical sight he must present to others: A man as fat as he was, kneeling in prayer, would resemble nothing so much as one of those old vinyl punching-bag toys with goofy faces, the ones with a heavy base of sand that kept them rolling back up no matter how hard you hit them.
Grunting, O’Malley pushed himself to his feet, then crossed the room to the small refrigerator and with trembling hands pulled out a hunk of salami and a wedge of hard cheese. He put these on a plate, fetched a knife, and sat down at his desk, setting the plate atop printouts of code he had been reviewing prior to his summons. He scarcely spared the neat lines of symbols and numbers a glance now as he began methodically to eat, cutting a slice of salami, a slice of cheese, putting the latter atop the former, and raising the result to his mouth, where he chewed it carefully, thoroughly, and then began the process anew. His mind always worked better when his body was occupied in this manner. There was something prayerful about it. Or so it had always seemed to him, though he doubted that others saw it that way.
As he ate, the trembling in his hands lessened, and finally disappeared altogether.
Father O’Malley had been obliged to perform the sacrament of penance many times in the years since his ordination. The ritual was so familiar to him by now that he could perform it in his sleep. But he had never heard a confession like the one he had just received. It almost seemed like a dream to him now. But unlike a dream, every detail remained crystal clear in his mind. The lines of code he’d been given blazed there as though outlined in fire, pregnant with terrible purpose. He had no need to write them down. He knew they would never fade, not if he lived to be a hundred.
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