Bix grinned leisurely as he dried a glass, held it up to the light critically, as if it were a precious jewel, then placed it carefully on the shelf. He was drawn to Rachel’s dark beauty and intrigued by her intelligence and stubborn independence. Although he made a great show of scorning material gain, the fact that this attractive older woman had been a successful writer impressed him. He edged closer to her, put his arm around her waist, and whispered, “Aw, come on, baby! We got a lot in common. Both of us are good-looking and like the better things of life—things like this, I mean. . . .”
He leaned over and planted a kiss on her neck, and she turned to give him a freezing look. “If I ever do something really evil, Bix, I’ll look you up and go out with you—as penance for my sin!”
Bix laughed and pulled at the corner of his droopy moustache. “Come, on, now, baby. That’s another thing we got in common. You don’t believe all that religious stuff about sin and hell any more than I do.”
Rachel gave up on the frying pan in disgust and handed it to him—then she suddenly paused. Her expressive, dark eyes grew thoughtful. She turned suddenly and glanced across the room to where Dani and Holtz were sitting at his desk, going over a paper. She nodded at them and said, “I give you points for that one, Bix. Look at them, the Nazi and the Christian! They’ve got one thing in common—they both pushed the Jews around, down through history.”
“Ah, the German’s not so bad, and the preacher lady is luscious!” Bix gave the pan a careless swipe with the dish towel and stowed it in the lower cabinet. Then he asked curiously, “Aren’t all Jews religious? I sort of had the idea they were.”
“The older ones maybe,” Rachel said. “But not all of us younger Jews are. Many of us are nationalists.
“I remember,” she said softly, “when I went to Jerusalem. The one thing I remember best was a soldier walking down the street, and a friend of mine, an old man who’d escaped Hitler’s gas chambers, said, ‘Look at that!’” I asked him what he saw, and he just said, ‘A soldier with a gun—but it’s a Jewish soldier!’” Rachel arched her back and stretched her arms high. “The new Jews have a saying, Bix: ‘Never again!’”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that we will never be conquered again—by anyone.” She laughed, reached out, and pulled his shaggy hair. “We do have one thing in common, Bix. We’re both rebels. You against society—me against the world!”
Bix reached for her. “No,” she shook her head, fending him off. “The difference between us is that one day you’ll shave off your beard, take a bath, and become a respected member of the establishment—a genuine WASP. But you see, Bix, it’s not so easy to stop being a Jew.” Rachel sobered, and her lips grew tight. “As a matter of fact, the only way to do that, is to die.” She turned and walked away from Bix, who stared at her in consternation. Finally he shrugged and moved to the table where Vince and Sid were playing poker with a deck of worn cards.
“Hey, you dudes will never believe this,” he said, falling into a chair. “But I offered first rights on my body to Rachel—and she turned me down.”
Canelli grinned at him, his white teeth gleaming against his olive skin. “Maybe I better give you lessons in how to handle a broad,” he said. “Or maybe a demonstration. That’s a good-looking dame. Just needs to loosen up.”
Bix shook his head. “Nope, I don’t think even you could break that one down, Vince. She ain’t like Candi and most other women. All she wants is to enjoy being a Jew—and maybe knock off the commander.”
“I ain’t too keen on Holtz myself.” Vince shrugged. “But he’s good at gettin’ things done. I give him that.”
Bix looked over toward the camera and shook his head. “I don’t like the way the looney talked about judgment. What’d you reckon he meant by that?” Since neither Sid nor Vince bothered to answer, Bix went on, “I don’t like it! It’s like living on death row!”
Valentine suddenly threw down his cards, his sharp-featured face white with anger. He rasped out, “Shut your face, you lousy punk! What do you know about anything?”
Vince watched carefully as Sid suddenly clamped his lips shut and began to pick up the cards with trembling fingers. The big man’s eyes narrowed, and he said softly, “You got to watch yourself, Sid. You give yourself away.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Canelli leaned back in his chair and considered the older man, then shrugged. “You been in the pen, Sid. I’ve always known that. Now I know you were on the row.” Valentine opened his mouth to answer, but Vince said impassively, “Nothing to me, Sid. I don’t care what you’ve done. But maybe you ought to tell Stone about it. Might be the confession he’s looking for.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Canelli?” Sid snapped. “Throw me to him in a minute, if it’d save your hide, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure I would, Sid.” Vince grinned wolfishly, “And you’d do the same to me—and so would the punk here,” he added, nodding at Bix, who was staring at them with big eyes. “That’s my philosophy—look out for number one. And anyone who says he’s different is a liar.” There was no doubting the callous cruelty in the eyes of Canelli, and he laughed suddenly. “Come on, let’s go tell the commander your big secret.”
“Wait a minute—!” Sid cried out in alarm. He scrambled to his feet and ran to grab Canelli’s arm, but the big man just grinned at him and pulled him to where Holtz sat.
“Hey, Commander,” he said loudly. “I think I might have a clue. You two private eyes might give this a listen. Sid here has just confessed he was in the row—and you don’t go to the chair for parking violations, do you now?”
Valentine tried to break free, but Vince held him easily with his massive hand and laughed. “I been in the pen, too, so I’m confessing. But I had better sense than to draw murder one! Maybe this is our boy, do you think? Maybe we can throw ol’ Sid to Stone, and he’ll let the rest of us out.”
“That wouldn’t bother you—sacrificing a friend?” Holtz asked, giving Vince a steady look.
“Not a bit—and don’t any of you get so pious, because you’d do the same thing.” Vince looked straight at Dani and grinned. “Even you, Reverend. You’d do whatever you had to do to save that pretty hide of yours!”
Dani returned his gaze but refused to argue. “I guess one never knows about a thing like that—until he has to make the choice. But you’re wrong about Stone taking Sid in exchange for the rest of us. He’ll never do that.”
“How can you know that?” Vince demanded.
“Don’t you know the penalty for kidnapping in this country, Vince? A capital offense—and capital punishment is coming back into fashion,” Dani said clearly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Vince’s loud voice had drawn every ear, and she wanted to make a point. “If I got out of here, I’d go straight to the feds, Vince, and I’d do my best to put Mr. Maxwell Stone in the chair. Probably I couldn’t do it, because it’s hard to put a billion dollars on death row. But for a man like Stone, it would be better to die than to lose his power, to become just one more number in a prison.”
Vince nodded. “You got that right, Ross—money talks!” Then he cocked his head and asked, “You saying that we’re never going to get out of this place?”
Dani nodded slowly. “I think you know that, Vince. We all know it. We’ve just been whistling in the dark, trying not to mention it—the way we don’t mention a terminal disease in the presence of someone who has it.” Dani swung her head around and saw that her words had touched a nerve in most of the listeners.
“It’s not fair!” Alex Morrow yelped. His round face had turned pale, and his voice was high and unsteady as he leaped to his feet. “I’ve worked like a dog all my life, and now this maniac comes along and ruins it—it’s not fair!”
He sounded like a child who’d lost his favorite toy, and Lonnie snapped at him, “You want a guarantee, buy a refrigerator!” Then he looked at Dani, his simple face filled with doubt.
“If he don’t want one of us, what does the nut want, Dani?”
They all waited for her answer, and Dani looked to Holtz. “The commander’s been trying to tell you that for days. Stone doesn’t care what we’ve done as individuals. He doesn’t care if Sid’s been on death row or if I’ve killed twenty people.” She took a deep breath and said, “It’s something that we’ve all done—done as a group.”
“We’ve never even seen one another!” Alex insisted. “How could we all have done something together?”
“That is what we have to find out, Alex,” Holtz said quickly. “We’ve got only one chance—and that’s to find out what Stone thinks we’ve done. Then we can talk about it with him.”
An argument broke out at once, ending only when the group separated. Savage had said nothing, but now, as he sat with Holtz and Dani, he spoke, “Karl, we’re not dealing with a rational man. No matter what anyone says, he’ll never let us out of this place. Unless someone traces us here, our only hope is to bust out.” He got to his feet and stared around the silo, his muscles tense.
Holtz dropped his head, then lifted his eyes. “Ben, during the war I had a friend named Leo Horstmann. He was in the submarine service with me. But Leo is now at the bottom of the North Atlantic. He went down in his vessel the Swordfish. It was his coffin.” Then Holtz looked at the two and said quietly, “Leo Horstmann has as much chance of escaping from the Swordfish as any of us have of breaking out of this place!”
“We’ll get out,” Savage insisted. There was a stubborn set to his chin, and he stood there poised, his eyes defiant as he stared up into the darkness. “There’s always a way.”
“This isn’t a movie,” Holtz commented sadly. “It’s life.”
“Any prison one man can invent, another can find a way out of!”
“Miss Dani, if you get a chance, try to talk to Alex. He’s in pretty bad shape.” Rosie’s dark face was filled with concern, and he shook his head as he handed her the coffee she sought. “After Stone made his little speech, seems like all the starch went out of him. He went to his bunk, and I tried to cheer him up, but he won’t say nothing.”
“I guess we’re all a little stunned, Rosie.”
“Sure—but I reckon a little Christian encouragement is what the man needs. I sure am glad we got us a preacher in here!”
Dani shook her head as he smiled and left. She was exhausted and felt grimy. The very thought of trying to reach out to Alex rose up like a mountain, and she rebelled inwardly. I’m so tired! How can I help anyone when I’m practically wiped out myself? Dim and indistinct at first, a thought formed, then focused in the form of a verse—one that had never meant much to her: “And the whole multitude sought to touch him: for there went virtue out of him, and healed them all.”
Dani suddenly thought, Why, that’s why Jesus grew so tired at times! Helping people did it! Every time He healed a person, it drained him of strength—and that’s what real ministry is. Now the wry thought came to her as she sat in the cold silo, wrestling with her feelings, Well, Danielle Ross—I think this cold hunk of steel—not Africa—is your mission field!
Friday night passed, and Saturday morning slowly moved into the steel cylinder. Dani got up early, shivering in the cold, and washed her face. After brushing her hair quickly, she dressed in an electric-blue running suit with a huge yellow lightning bolt across the chest. It looked tacky, but was the warmest thing she had found. She pulled on heavy wool socks, donned a pair of Nikes, picked up her Bible and notebook, and moved past the others, who were still asleep.
After grabbing two doughnuts, and pouring a cup of coffee, she started for the table. Alex, slumped in a chair, stared at the wall. She had not seen him all day Friday, and it was one of the few times all day when privacy would be possible. A strange feeling came to her, for before falling asleep, she had offered God a half-defiant prayer: Lord, I will try to talk to Alex, if I have a chance to do it alone. That seemed unlikely at the time, and she had felt the burden leave her—but now she had no choice but to go and try.
“Hi, Alex,” she said cheerfully as she moved to stand beside his chair. “Let me get you some coffee.” He shook his head, but she said firmly, “I hate to eat alone!” Quickly she went to get another cup of coffee and two doughnuts.
Listlessly, he began to nibble at a doughnut, not seeming to listen as she sat there making light conversation. Alex looked wan and drained in the dim light, and Dani realized how little she knew about him. Slowly the rare privacy and the intimacy of their talk caused him to open up. He was divorced and spoke bitterly of his wife, insisting she had turned the two children against him. His business life had been very successful; he had built a small furniture factory into a large one that had expanded sales all over the Southwest. But material benefits had not satisfied him.
Finally it came out that he had alienated his wife by his extramarital affairs. He added bitterly, “They weren’t really that much fun, Dani.
“I guess you’ve got the picture. I’ve made a mess of my life, and there’s no way to fix it.”
Dani said carefully, “I think everybody hits the place where they feel like that, Alex. I know I have.”
He looked at her in surprise, then shook his head. “You say that, but it’s not so.” His eyes were bleak, and he looked old and defeated. “You’ve got religion, and I’m glad for you. But it’s too late for me.” Tears welled up in his eyes, and he averted his face, pulling a handkerchief out of the pocket of his robe. Wiping his face, he cleared his throat and said, “No, I’ve missed it, Dani.”
“It’s never too late, Alex!” Dani said quietly. “Would you just let me read some Scriptures?” He paused so long that she thought he was about to refuse, but he shrugged and nodded.
She opened her Bible and began to read, choosing Scriptures from the gospels, which presented Jesus meeting the needs of people. As he listened, she read of the Lord opening the eyes of the blind, healing the sick, and even raising the dead. She thought a spark of interest lit his eyes. Then she began to read a few verses from the epistles of Paul, setting forth the doctrine of Jesus as the Saviour of the world. He stopped her once, asking what a verse meant, and she explained it carefully.
Finally Lonnie came out of the sleeping area, followed by Vince. As the two broke the silence, Alex seemed to withdraw. “We’ll talk some more, Alex,” Dani said quickly. “Maybe you’d like to read my Bible awhile.”
He refused, but she knew that it was because he didn’t want the others to see what he would consider a weakness. Nevertheless, she felt a thrill of joy as she went to help Betty with breakfast, for she felt that somehow Alex had been touched and helped.
The day passed slowly, and finally at noon, Vince looked around the tables and said loudly, “Well, it’s twenty-four hours since Stone threatened us, and nothing’s happened yet. I guess he was just talking.” A crooked grin crossed his face.
Nobody challenged him, but an air of restraint hovered over the group all afternoon. More than once, Dani caught herself glancing at the silent speaker on the wall. She spent most of the afternoon with Holtz, going over his endless lists, and was glad to stop when dinnertime came.
“We don’t have to wonder what’s for dinner tonight,” she said as the two of them moved to the table. The smell of frying fish was strong, and going to the kitchen, she saw that Rachel and Betty had prepared hush puppies and French fries to complete the fish supper.
Karen came to the table and frowned. “Betty, Alex doesn’t need to eat fried fish. His stomach is in terrible shape. . . .”
Betty gave her a look of irritation. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“I’m sorry, but I just forgot—and he won’t police his own diet. Could you fix him something light?”
Betty shook her head, then said grumpily, “He can have an omelet—but he’ll have to wait until I have time to fix it.”
Karen said, “You go on with the fish, Betty. I can’t cook much, but I can make an omelet.”
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Rachel said, “Karen, make that omelet big enough for two. I don’t want fish tonight. My stomach’s been upset.”
Karen plunged in, banging bowls and breaking eggs, and by the time Dani had served the others their fish, she had mixed the omelet and given it to Betty, who cooked it quickly and slid it onto a plate. Karl had come to the serving bar, and picked it up saying, “It looks good, Betty. I’ll take it to Alex.”
“Put half of it on a plate for Rachel,” she ordered. He divided it and carried out the two plates.
After supper, the conversation at each table made a pleasant hum. Alex complained about not getting any fish, and Rachel patted his hand. “I’ve got two candy bars left from those we got three days ago, Alex. I think we deserve them.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t take your candy, Rachel!” he protested.
She laughed and said, “I’ll bet you will! Everybody knows about that sweet tooth of yours!” She got up and left the room, and when she came back, gave him a Snickers bar, which he began to unwrap at once. She stood there with an odd look on her face, then said, “I had three left. Here, Herr Holtz, you take this one.”
Everyone stared at her in amazement, and she looked around at their faces. “The Bible says to love your enemies, doesn’t it, Dani? And if I remember right it says if you give to them, it’ll pour coals of fire on their heads.” She tossed the candy bar to Holtz, saying, “There’s your coal, Holtz. I hope it burns your brains out!”
Holtz caught the bar, gave her a long look, then said, “Sometimes it’s more blessed to receive than it is to give. Thank you, Rachel.” He told Dani later, “I wanted to throw that bar in her face, but that was what she expected me to do! So I ate it to spite her.”
Dani and Rachel did the dishes. When they moved out of the kitchen, they joined the others, who were listening to Lonnie and Bix engage in an argument about animals. The two got louder, and it was obvious that neither of them knew much about the subject. Basically Lonnie was saying that animals are stupid, and Bix vehemently insisted that they were not. None of the others cared much, but after a heavy supper, they were all sitting back and listening lazily.
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