“Would you please explain yourself?” I couldn’t disguise the air of irritation in my voice. “I don’t have the patience for riddles or religious dogma right now. I’m very serious about finding a way out of Global Union—”
“There is no way out of God’s will.” His face suddenly rippled with anguish. “Through all the years of my life I have sought a way of escape, and I can assure you there is none. We must follow our destiny, just as Santos Justus follows his. We have only one hope, and that is the blessed blood of Jesus Christ. If Santos accepts the Savior, then and only then can he be turned from the road laid out before him.”
“Stop!” I put my hands over my ears, not willing to hear any more. Fear and anger knotted inside me as I looked up and saw the ferocity of passion glittering in Asher’s dark eyes.
What had happened to the calm, reliable, good-natured man I hired? I would never have guessed that a religious zealot lived inside Asher Genzano; there had been nothing in his demeanor to suggest this streak of fanaticism.
He said nothing but leaned back in his chair, his gaze moving toward the floor. Reassured by his demeanor, I lowered my hands and leaned forward. “Asher,” I said, trying to reason with the gentle man I knew, “I respect religious conviction, really I do. But there is no place for it in the office or in Global Union. Even Reverend Synn makes a point of leaving his religious beliefs outside the organization.”
Asher kept his gaze on the floor, but his mouth twisted in bitter amusement. “You really believe that?”
“I’ve seen no reason to think otherwise.”
He looked at me then, his eyes damp with pain. “Claudia,” he said, his voice calm and soothing, “do you believe in God?”
I nodded, grateful that I could at least placate him with a partially affirmative answer. “I went to Sunday school as a kid and got a pretty thorough indoctrination.”
“Do you believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God?”
I bit my lip, realizing that I couldn’t even hedge my way out of this one. “I believe the Bible is a great book.” I glanced down at my hands. “It contains some of the world’s finest literature. But I can’t say I believe it is literally inspired.”
“Do you believe it is prophetic?”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
His voice, so calm an instant before, filled with sudden vibrancy. “Do you believe it contains the future as well as the past? That events described in the books of Daniel and Ezekiel and Matthew and Revelation will come to pass in the near future?”
The thread of fervor in his voice was enough to make me shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Suppose I told you”—Asher leaned forward to pull a leather volume from a desk drawer—“that Santos D. Justus is described, in detail, in Holy Scripture.”
As he flipped the thin pages of the book—a Bible—I pressed my lips together, not certain whether to laugh or cry. Had I allowed a lunatic into Global Union? Apparently something had triggered this change in Asher; some recent situation or someone’s remark had caused a repressed religious fanaticism to surface. But, thank God, at least I had discovered his derangement away from Global Union headquarters. Tomorrow I could quietly tell Reverend Synn that Asher Genzano would no longer be available to serve as interpreter. I’d ask Signora Casale to find us another interpreter/translator—
“Here.” Asher tapped a passage in the open Bible. “Revelation 13:1—John says, ‘And now in my vision I saw a beast rising up out of the sea. It had seven heads and ten horns, with ten crowns on its horns. And written on each head were names that blasphemed God.’”
I hesitated, blinking with bafflement. Much of the Bible had never made sense to me, and this reading made even less sense than the verilys and withersoevers that confused me as a child.
“I don’t understand,” I finally said, giving Asher a small smile. “And I don’t think most people do. I’ve heard that Revelation is allegorical; it was never meant to be understood.”
“Why would God give it to us if he did not want us to understand it?” Something that looked like righteous indignation flared in Asher’s eyes, then cooled. “It’s very simple, Claudia, but it is symbolic. In prophetic symbolism, the sea always represents the Gentile world. The beast therefore comes from a Gentile nation, from a country or confederation that was once part of the ancient Roman Empire.” He flipped the pages of the Bible. “Daniel 8:25 tells us that the beast will destroy many through peace—and Santos Justus has just organized an international peace organization headquartered in Rome.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s completely illogical. Peace can’t destroy anything. Peace is the opposite of war.”
“Peace made through concession can destroy a great deal.” Asher flipped another page. “Daniel 11:16 tells us that his federation will be ruled by absolute authority. The Antichrist will do as he pleases, and no one will stop him. Haven’t you noticed that no one within Unione Globale dares to question Justus?”
I gaped at him. My stomach had dropped at the word Antichrist, and now my mind reeled with confusion. Asher’s paranoia was worse than I feared. In the space of five minutes, he’d gone from being a religious zealot to a conspiracy nut. What would Synn say if he learned that Asher Genzano, who moved through Global Union headquarters with a top-level security pass, believed our international peacemaker to be the Antichrist?
I closed my eyes, envisioning Justus asleep on the jet while Asher tiptoed up behind him with a wooden stake in his hand—but no, a wooden stake was the remedy for vampires, and a silver bullet dispatched werewolves. How, exactly, did one deal with an antichrist?
I had to stay calm. I would make a graceful exit, then go back to my residenza and call Kurt. He’d know what to do.
I propped my elbow on my crossed knee, then rested my chin in my hand, trying to assume a thoughtful, yet relaxed posture. “If Justus is the Antichrist,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “what should we do about it?”
I felt his eyes grazing my face, reading me as thoroughly as I’ve ever read anybody. “You don’t believe me,” he finally said, his voice flat. “You don’t believe any of this.”
“My mind is open.” I lifted my chin. “You just haven’t convinced me. And I’ll have to be convinced before I’d—well, before I could act on this supposition.”
Before I could even allow you through the door of Global Union headquarters again.
A tide of hurt washed through his eyes, and I felt a sharp stab of guilt. I didn’t want to injure our friendship. I had come to respect Asher, and I still did, for many reasons . . . but I couldn’t allow him to jeopardize my client with this kind of religious insanity.
He closed the Bible. After a long, exhausted sigh, he began to recite what I assumed was another verse: “‘Dear children, the last hour is here. You have heard that the Antichrist is coming, and already many such antichrists have appeared. From this we know that the end of the world has come.’” Asher’s eyes sparkled with weariness when he looked at me again. “First John 2:18.”
The wings of shadowy foreboding brushed my spirit. This was not good. The something that had bothered me about Asher Genzano had just revealed itself, and this character flaw could spell disaster for me if he spread these tales throughout Global Union . . .
“I need to go now,” I said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. “But before I go, I wanted to let you know that Il Direttore wants you to take tomorrow off. We both get the day off—a reward, I guess, for a job well done in Brussels.”
Asher shook his head, causing me to wonder if he knew I was lying, then he gave me a strained smile and walked me to the door.
EIGHTEEN
A THOUSAND REGRETS ROSE IN ASHER’S THOUGHTS AS HE WATCHED Claudia walk away. He shouldn’t have told her so much—but she had been trying to draw him away from the coming confrontation, and he could not allow anyone to weaken his resolve. And he had not lied to her, not once. He certainly wasn’t about to lie about something as
important as the world’s destiny. He would not have lied about his own destiny, either . . . had she asked.
He moved into his sitting room, walking on legs that felt as heavy as stone. He thought of opening a window to let some fresh air into the dusty space, but a trace of Claudia’s perfume lingered in the atmosphere and the night breeze might have driven it away.
He breathed deeply of the floral scent and sat down at his desk, lost for a moment in memories. She had looked at him with fear in her eyes, and she had lied to him just before leaving. He hadn’t earned a day off— but he might have lost his job. He would have to report to work in the morning as usual and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Claudia would be embarrassed to be caught in a lie, but he couldn’t risk losing his position now.
Sighing, he pulled his journal to him and began to write:
Today I spoke with Claudia Fischer about the Antichrist. Her unbelief is as deeply rooted as that of the ancient Greeks, and, like them, she finds the concept laughable. But she did not laugh in my face like the others. Our friendship—as tenuous and new as it is— would not allow her to do so.
Despite her unbelief, I am even more convinced that Santos D. Justus is the one spoken of by the prophets. Today we learned that we are to spy upon three heads of government who might be resisting him. Is this not a clear reference to the three heads the Antichrist will overcome in his rise to power? It is yet early and not all the prophecies have been fulfilled, but I must confront him before his heart is so hardened he cannot change.
There are so many signs that point to Justus and the end. The Scriptures foretell that the evil one will worship the god of forces, of military might, and Justus heads a military organization even while he speaks of peace. Nations are listening to him; men are coming to heap praises upon his head.
I waited too long with the others, but God has been merciful. In this age of international communication and information, I have been able to see the signs as they unfolded, before the root of corruption could flower into fullness.
May God give me the strength to do what I must. And may he help me to know if and when I should be more honest with Claudia Fischer.
NINETEEN
IN LIGHT OF THE VERY REAL POSSIBILITY THAT I HAD INSTALLED A LOOSE cannon near the top level of Global Union administration, all my qualms about calling Kurt vanished. It was twenty-two o’clock when I returned to my room, four in the afternoon New York time, but I dialed his office number without hesitation. I didn’t care if I interrupted him, and if I caused him to miss a date . . . well, he deserved it.
His receptionist put me straight through when I told her the call was urgent. “Kurt, I need your help,” I said, spacing my words evenly. “I know we’re sort of not speaking, but this is really important.”
“Claudia? Good grief, what’s happened?”
“Nothing, I’m fine. But I need an expert psychological opinion, and I need it now. I think I have to fire an employee in the morning.”
“So you’ve forgiven me?” he asked, his voice slow with contentment.
“Not really. But I think we can still be friends. I think that’s all we were all along.”
“You may be right.” He spoke in an odd, yet gentle tone, and I knew he would give me the help I needed. We might not have made a great husband-and-wife team, but we had shared too much to abandon each other.
I sat on the edge of the bed and raked my hand through my hair. “I think I made a huge mistake. There was a man—Asher Genzano— and when I interviewed him, I sensed there was something . . . not quite right. I called him back for another interview and still couldn’t put my finger on it, but his test scores were great, his talent remarkable, and he happens to be rich and some kind of local bigwig. Anyway, he won over the personnel director, so I approved him. I chalked up my uneasiness to my unfamiliarity with the Italian male.”
Kurt chuckled easily. “And now?”
“Now I think he’s a raving lunatic.”
I heard shifting sounds and could almost see Kurt sitting up in his chair, pulling out a notebook for this unofficial therapy session. “Lunatic is a strong word, Claude. Maybe he’s just neurotic. If you fire him without just cause, you’ll be opening yourself up for trouble. Why do you think he’s unbalanced?”
I lifted my hand and began counting on my fingers. “First, he seems to be overly religious. I’ve only seen one other sign of it, but that was away from the office. He doesn’t pray in public, he doesn’t wear a cross or a crucifix or anything like that, but tonight he started rambling about his destiny and God’s will. Then he pulled out a Bible and started quoting verses about beasts and Gentile nations.”
“Lots of people are religious, Claude, but that doesn’t mean they need psychiatric help. If every street-corner preacher in Manhattan needed a shrink, I’d be working twenty-four hours a day.” Kurt hesitated, and when he spoke again his voice was more intense. “You said you saw him tonight? Did you meet him away from the office?”
The question caught me off guard. “I, uh, needed to talk to him about this job we were asked to do together. Justus has asked me to read some people without their knowledge, and I’m a little nervous about it. Asher is the interpreter, so he’s involved too.” Though Kurt couldn’t see me, I shrugged. “It’s just professional. But this guy has a top security clearance and access to Justus, so I can’t have him go loopy on me at the office.”
“Do you think he might?”
I considered the question, remembering the passionate look in Asher’s eyes. “I don’t know. He looked pretty intense tonight, but at the office he keeps to himself and seems very laid back. Plus, he doesn’t really have access to the executives unless we’re traveling, and then there are always other people around.”
“OK, Claude.” I smiled at the degree of concern I heard in his voice. “I think I can assure you this guy is fine. He probably brought up his religion because you were away from the office; therefore he felt safe. As long as he keeps quiet in the workplace, write it off as harmless eccentricity.”
“Kurt, it didn’t feel harmless. He called Santos Justus the Antichrist.”
He chuckled with a dry and cynical sound. “Some of my patients call their employers much worse. Don’t sweat it, Claude, unless he brings his delusions into the office. That’s when you really ought to worry.”
“So—I shouldn’t have him dismissed?”
“The guy was probably trying to impress you. Let it go, and you probably won’t hear another peep out of him.”
“OK.” I wrapped the telephone cord around my wrist. “Thanks, Kurt. I appreciate it. Sorry for bothering you at the office.”
“Forget it. I owe you one.”
We said good-bye, and I disconnected the call, then sat with the heavy telephone in my lap. Kurt was probably right. I had spent enough time with Asher to trust him, and didn’t everyone have at least one quirk? Besides, the idea of Asher threatening Justus seemed illogical. He was a wealthy man, despite his rather odd living conditions, which meant he had to be working at Global Union because he believed in Justus and world peace. Maybe he had mentioned the Bible to me because he was troubled by the apparent contradiction between his beliefs and the good he saw Global Union accomplishing . . .
And what had he said to me? If doing what Justus demands will help you reach your goal, go ahead and be done with it. But if it is contrary to your purpose, walk away.
Asher clearly wanted to stay with Justus, so he must believe in the cause, but he didn’t seem to care if I wanted to walk away.
Could I? I had taken this job because I thought it might boost my reputation to an international level. But if I was arrested for spying on political officials, the international stink might bury my career forever. Even the hint of a scandal would sink Fischer Consulting beyond any salvageable depth, and if I participated in what Justus suggested, quite a few people in powerful positions would know what I had done.
I would walk away. Let Synn accuse me of breaking my c
ontract. I would ask Rory to find a new client—it wouldn’t have to be anyone powerful or famous, just someone in legitimate need—and I’d tell Synn and Justus that I had to go home. Fischer Consulting needed me. And, after all, I had fulfilled the basic terms of my contract with Global Union. Though I hadn’t served the full six months, I had remained long enough to completely staff their Rome headquarters.
I had left my laptop at the office, so I picked up the telephone and dialed the number for my Manhattan office. After three rings the answering machine clicked on: Hello, you’ve reached Fischer Consulting. We apologize for being unable to take your call, but if you’ll leave your name and number . . .”
As I feared, Rory had already gone for the day. I waited for the beep, then launched into my spiel. “Rory, I hate to bother you with a message, but I didn’t want to wait until our daylight hours converge again. Listen, I know we’re in a holding pattern until I return from Rome, but if you have any interesting cases in your pending file, check them out, will you? I’d settle for defending a New York City councilman. I think I might need an excuse to exit Rome, and a trial might be my ticket out. Let me know what you come up with, OK? Thanks.”
I hung up the phone, feeling strangely comforted. My ex-fiancé was still speaking to me, my secretary would find me a new job, and it didn’t matter that my closest Roman friend had just developed a case of bats in the belfry.
I was going home.
You could have knocked me over with a raw linguine noodle the next morning when I stepped into the crowded elevator at Global Union headquarters and saw Asher standing against the back wall. I flushed miserably, almost certain he knew I had lied about his day off, but if he did see through me, he gave no sign of it. “I was in the middle of a big translation project,” he said, lifting a manila folder. “I decided to come in today and finish it up.”
I nodded in numb silence, then turned and stared at the polished doors until we reached the fourth floor.
The Immortal Page 17