I was scared as hell.
Then one of them started laughing.
It was the one farthest from me. His smiling plastic face remained frozen as the muffled laughing rumbled beneath it.
Then he took his mask off.
Coyote.
“Wow, you should have seen your face, Harden.”
Relief didn’t exactly wash over me. I held onto the book.
“What the hell, Coyote?”
The other one was laughing now, too. This one, however, kept on his mask.
Coyote walked toward me.
“I came for a visit.” His laughing had eased into a simple lilt of pleasure in his tone. “Had these back at the house.” He held up the mask. “Figured I’d give you a little scare.”
“You did,” I said.
“I can see that.”
“Harden, this is Ben.”
I turned around and the other man finally removed his mask.
I knew Ben. Big Ben, the frat-party bouncer. The one who had seen Emma and me in these very same stacks.
I wondered what was coming next.
Coyote put a hand on my shoulder. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Harden.” Coyote squeezed my skin a bit too hard. When he touched me, I thought of him touching Emma. Of forcing himself on her. I wanted to hurt Coyote for what he had done, but I knew I wouldn’t just start swinging at him. Why couldn’t I be that kind of man?
I pushed his hand off. “Been busy. Some of us have graduating to do.” I tried to control my voice. I heard the fear in my words. Fear and anger.
“Ah, yes. That.”
“Yeah, that.”
“The place is shaping up,” he said. “You should see it again.”
Coyote left our apartment a month earlier. Jacob and Coyote, as expected, found a place on their own, a sprawling old Georgian that was once home to Sigma Chi before their local charter was revoked as a result of a pledge getting drunk, climbing halfway up the chimney before getting stuck, and subsequently dying. The house henceforth sitting empty, Coyote landed a good deal to rent it out.
It seemed a good place for Jacob and Coyote. And yes, others joined them. There were about twenty of them, all men. I didn’t know what exactly they did over there. I had only visited once.
“I will if I get a chance,” I said.
“How’s Derek?”
“Okay, I guess. He’s not in the apartment much. Has a new girlfriend.”
“That so?”
“Yup.”
“So you’re alone there?”
“I suppose. It’s not like we rented out your rooms.”
“That sounds very lonely.”
I shifted my gaze to Ben. Had he seen or heard anything that day in the library? Did he know anything about Emma and me?
Ben’s eyes remained flat and dull. A weak smile lounged on a weaker chin.
“It’s okay. I have a lot of work going on right now, so it makes things a little easier, actually.”
That seemed to satisfy him for a moment. Truth was, Emma came over to the apartment all the time.
“I miss you,” Coyote said. Big Ben took a deep breath through his nose. The aisle seemed to close in on me.
“I can’t imagine you missing anyone,” I responded.
“But I do. We’re not as close as we once were, and that makes me sad.”
“Sad?”
“You were supposed to be the secretary of the Revelation.”
“And how do you know I’ve given that up?”
He seemed surprised by my answer. “But how can you document what you’re not involved in? What you’ve written so far is great. I need more, though. I need you.”
I glanced over at Ben, who took the slightest step forward toward me. “I’m still involved,” I said. “Not too hard to follow your activities.”
“Yes, I hear you’ve been asking about me.”
My fingers dug a little deeper into the spine of the book in my grip.
“Trying to stay informed.”
“And what have you heard about the Revelation?”
It just hit me then how much more formal his tone had become, almost professorial. He was fully immersed in the role he was now playing. Or, perhaps, he had finally found his true self.
“That you have a handful of people living with you now—”
“Children,” Coyote corrected, nodding at Big Ben’s mask.
The idea of his followers being called children disgusted me. “Handful of people in the house,” I continued. “More around the campus.”
“Two hundred,” Coyote said. “And not just here. All around New York.”
“Two hundred?”
“You see? You need to be closer to the action.”
“How did you get so many?”
Coyote shrugged as if getting hundreds of people to follow him was something that should occur without effort. “Two or three people are all it takes to start, just as I had expected. They are transformed and then want to tell others about it.”
“Transformed into what?”
“Into something they weren’t before. I’m the medicine for whatever ails them. They have no idea if I’m a placebo or not. All they know is that they feel better.”
“Even though it’s all in their minds?”
He chose to ignore this.
“So these people,” he said. “My Children. They start talking to other people. Spreading the word. It hasn’t changed in two thousand years, Harden. Most people they talk to think they’re crazy, but a few are curious. They want a new way of looking at their own lives. They want more. They come to our introductory sessions. They see the video. They meet me. Some join. Most I never see again. It’s just a matter of numbers, Harden. Percentages.”
“Just like that?”
Coyote shook his head. “Nothing is just like that. Don’t think I’m not spending every waking moment dedicated to my cause.”
I didn’t think that at all. I knew what kind of fanatic Coyote was. Truth was, I was monitoring Coyote’s group as closely as possible without throwing myself into the middle of it. Coyote wasn’t the only one who wanted me taking notes.
Mike Barrillo had become my new friend. He worked out of the FBI’s Albany field office, and I contacted him soon after the night we first met. I told him I wanted to help, but it had to be on my terms. I wasn’t going to be a part of Coyote’s group, but I could try to keep tabs on what he was doing the best I could.
I sent Barrillo all the notes I had taken for Coyote so far. Then I scouted around a little more. I talked to people who had seen Coyote or Jacob. I asked about what they were up to. I did everything short of talking to Coyote himself, because Coyote was dangerous.
Coyote was good at a lot of things, but more than anything he was good at reading people. I was afraid he would be able to sense what I was up to. He would find the tape recorder on me as I probed him for details. He would look into my eyes and sense I was trying to bring harm to him. When that moment happened, there was no telling what he would do to me.
I wanted to hurt Coyote and avoid him all at the same time, and those two things could not coexist. I had to embrace one and release the other.
“You’re still my friend, aren’t you, Harden?” His hand was suddenly on my shoulder again. The veins in his forearms wormed visibly beneath his skin.
“It’s about consumption, isn’t it, Coyote? Your need to consume. Emma. The boy in the woods. The hooker. Now this, right?”
He kept smiling.
“Getting people to do whatever you want,” I continued. “Whole groups of them. That’s the ultimate consumption, isn’t it? It’s what you think will make you great.”
“You can be great with me, Harden. Isn’t that what you want? I thought you were with me.”
“I need to graduate. That’s the only thing I’m focused on.”
He tilted his head. “You’re jealous I chose Jacob and not you. Aren’t you?”
This rare lack of perception surprised m
e.
“What do you want from me, Coyote?”
“I don’t want you to be like Derek,” Coyote said. “I want us to be close again.”
“It’s all bullshit, Coyote. Right now, here, can’t you admit to me this is all bullshit? It wasn’t very long ago you read my essay and came up with this plan, which was nothing more than a mental exercise for you. Just admit to me this is a game, and nothing more.”
Coyote released his grip and shot a glance at Ben before focusing on me. “I know how this all started, Harden. But it’s real. You were meant to write that essay to spark everything. I was meant to be the leader I’ve become.”
“It’s all parlor tricks,” I said.
“No, Harden. It’s all belief. You should see the kind of progress we’re making.”
“Progress?”
He nodded. “We’re moving in directions you never thought of, Harden.”
“That I believe.”
“I’d really like you to be with us.”
“As opposed to against you?”
Now he took a step closer and I could smell him. Leather and dried sweat. His stubble was a couple of days old and looked rough as sandpaper. “What is it, Harden?” He was whispering now. “Why do you hate me?”
Then I said it. I wasn’t expecting to, but it came out with nothing to stop it.
“You raped her.”
In that moment I expected him to hit me, and even bent my knees and shifted my footing, preparing for a fight. But all he did was smile.
“Harden, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then he backed up, and as I straightened, Ben walked in front of me and put his meaty paw on my chest.
“Take it easy,” he said. His hand was massive, and it felt like he could squeeze his fingers and rip my heart out with little effort.
Then Coyote laughed, and Big Ben joined him. Ben dropped his arm and they both turned and began walking away.
“Next time you see her, tell her I miss her,” was the last thing I heard Coyote say that night. He and Ben turned past the stacks and disappeared as unexpectedly as they had arrived, leaving me frustrated, angry, and determined to finally make a fucking decision for once in my life.
The opportunity I was waiting for came in mid-May, just two weeks before graduation.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
MAY 1990
I had just finished my final exam in a throwaway music course. It was early in the evening, and I was crossing the North Quad just as the sun dipped below the rooftop of the liberal arts building. As I dropped my gaze back to the path, I noticed a man standing about fifty feet in front of me, looking in my direction. It took me a few seconds before recognition set in.
I walked up to him.
“Agent Barrillo.”
Barrillo nodded. “Hello, Harden.”
“I assume you came here to find me.”
“Your assumption is correct.”
I hooked my thumbs in the straps of my backpack and looked around. Mostly for Coyote.
“Sorry I haven’t given you much over the last couple of months. I’ve been kind of busy.”
He waved it off. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “You have a few minutes?”
I did, but not many. I was supposed to meet Emma in about a half hour.
“A few.”
“I drove here all the way from Albany just to see you. Let me buy you a drink.”
“I don’t turn twenty-one for another three weeks.”
He laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. “The government has bigger things to focus on. Come on.”
He walked me to a small parking lot adjacent to the university chapel and prompted me to get into a gray Ford Escort with government plates. The interior was spotless, and as he navigated us to the north side of town, music from a classical cassette tape filled the car. My throwaway course had at least taught me something: I was listening to a Bach fugue.
Barrillo seemed to have a place in mind, and minutes later he pulled up to a small Italian restaurant that I had never been to in all my time at Wyland. This part of town was mostly frequented by locals—too far a walk from campus and too uninteresting for those with cars.
We occupied a small booth near the kitchen and each ordered a Heineken; the waitress never even asked me for an ID. I realized my date with Emma would have to be postponed, and I was going to ask the waitress if I could use the restaurant’s phone, but Barrillo never gave me a chance.
“Some of the info you’ve sent me has been useful,” he said.
I hadn’t given him much. Hell, I’d barely seen Coyote after he and Ben stalked me with baby masks in the library. “That’s good.”
“But there’s not a whole lot we can use.”
“Use how?”
“Against his father.”
“I told you before. Coyote’s never told me anything about his father, and I haven’t asked.”
“I know,” he said. “But now I need you to. I need you to get Coyote on tape.”
“Why is that my job? You work for the FBI, not me.”
“Look, Harden, when I first approached you, this was kind of a fluff case. Sure, we’ve had our eye on Alastair Martin for a long time, just as we do a ton of different RICO guys out there. Some take more priority than others. I got assigned his primary detail after doing a stint in securities fraud, and I’ve been fortunate to dig up a few new things.”
“Because of what I wrote?”
“No, of course not.” He held up a placating hand. “Not that we’re not grateful for your work, though.” His tone sounded as though he was about to hand me a junior certificate of bravery made out in crayon.
Barrillo leaned over the table. “I want you to understand that anything I discuss with you is confidential and subject to criminal punishment if discussed with anyone outside of the Bureau. You understand that?”
“I understand.”
He leaned back. “Alastair Martin is up to something, and we think it’s somehow related to what Coyote is doing. I think the father needs the son, and this . . . Revelation is part of some other plan.”
The idea stunned me. “Up to what?”
“I could be coy and tell you I’m not at liberty to discuss that. The truth is, we don’t have a goddamn clue. Though I have some theories.”
“Such as?”
Barrillo managed a tight grin. “I think Alastair Martin realizes what a charismatic and brilliant son he has, and the idea of founding a new religion as a way of creating a tax-exempt and protected shelter for him to launder money occurred to one or both of them at some point. Sometime over last Christmas.”
Right before Coyote called and came to drag me back to school, I thought.
“Whoever came up with the idea first, I have no idea.”
“Jesus.”
“Or someone pretending to be him.” Barrillo sipped his beer.
I thought back to my original paper, the one that had sparked Coyote’s interest so much. Was that the reason he was so excited? Was he searching for a new way to launder money with his father, and my paper triggered the whole operation?
I told Barrillo about the essay.
“You never mentioned that before.”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
He thought for a few seconds. “It’s not,” he concluded. “But it is interesting.”
“Somehow, I feel guilty,” I said.
“Don’t. They would have thought of something else eventually.”
“So he’s worked with his father all along? He never really cared about school?”
Barrillo shrugged. “Who the hell really knows? My take is that Coyote’s a rich son of a crook who was too smart to think he’d want to follow in his father’s footsteps. But he lacked the patience to make a go at anything else, so he eventually decided to put his brain to use making a big pile of illicit cash into a bigger pile. I think he’s bored. I think he likes the challenge.”
This man just summed up Coyote perfe
ctly.
“And Jacob?”
“I don’t think Jacob has the foggiest clue about what’s going on,” Barrillo conceded. “I think Coyote takes his role very seriously, and he is truly committed to getting as many members as possible. I imagine he thrills at having everyone hanging on his every word, doing the things he tells them to do.”
“What . . . what about the things they’ve done?”
He arched his eyebrows at me. “Like what?”
“The . . .” I felt stupid for saying it. “The levitation. The tree.”
I received a patronizing smirk for my question. “Please, Harden. Grow up.” His next sip finished the bottle. “That family has enough money to buy all the special effects they want.”
“So why do you need me?”
Barrillo rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “Because technically they haven’t done anything illegal, at least not that can be proven. We know that Alastair has been to campus twice to meet with his son in the last month.”
“He has?”
“Yeah, he has. I’m guessing that once Coyote . . . legitimizes his church, or whatever the hell he’s creating, they’re going to apply for a protective religious status with the government. Granted, that process can take some time, but it would be much easier to make a move against them before they even start it.”
This was sounding too fantastic to be real. “But it’s not even a religion,” I said. “It’s barely anything. It’s a bunch of—”
“—lost college kids trying to find the meaning of life,” Barrillo interrupted. “I know, I know. But don’t think it can’t be done, Harden. Look at Scientology. That’s a helluva lot wackier than what your buddy is doing, and look how big that’s become. But we’re still early in the game. We just need some real proof. I’d bug his house, but we don’t have enough for a warrant. That’s where you come in.”
The waitress came by and dropped off another round of Heinekens for us, unsolicited. My first one was still half-full. When she left, Barrillo continued.
“If they’re smart, which they both undoubtedly are, they have to make sure they do things the right way. You know how he asked you to be his secretary—to write everything down?”
“Yes.”
“Smart. They’ll need as much documentation as possible. Legitimate documentation. They need your notes as a way of showing what they’re doing is real and not a scam.”
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