“If I know my uncle,” she said, “he got upstairs before anyone else and removed it. He’s not about to let the police into any of the family business.”
Preacher looked at her. “Does he have any idea of what you took with you?”
“I doubt it,” she said. “That was in my private safe. Nobody knew what was in there.”
“He’s still going to be looking for you,” he said.
She nodded thoughtfully. “I know.”
The waitress brought the steaming plates of eggs to the table. They were silent while she placed everything on the table. “Enjoy your breakfast, folks,” she said and walked away.
The newscaster’s voice rose over the sound of eating. “Acting on information supplied by an informant, the FBI and the Oakland police staged a surprise raid on a hideout believed to be occupied by Joseph ‘The Engineer’ Washington, also known as Ali Elijah, a Black Muslim wanted for questioning in several murders and bombings allegedly committed by the Black Muslims over the past several years. The house under the Bay Bridge in Oakland, which formerly belonged to Washington’s mother, was found deserted. Police say that it showed signs of recent occupancy and believe that the fugitive is still somewhere in the vicinity. A search of the area is still being continued.”
Preacher glanced from one to the other. “I’m sitting with a couple of celebrities,” he grinned.
“Stars, man, stars,” Elijah grinned. He shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “They said nothing about my family so I guess they got away all right.”
“That’s one good sign,” Preacher said. He picked unenthusiastically at the omelet. It wasn’t very good.
“I can’t stay with you,” Barbara said suddenly.
Preacher turned to her. “What are you talking about?”
“My uncle’s no fool,” she said. “Yours is the first place he’s going to look. And he knows where to find you. He’s already told the Sons of God where you are.”
“You have no place else to go,” Preacher said. “Do you know any Chinese who would go out on a limb for you? Your uncle will have eyes all over.”
“He plays for keeps,” Barbara said. “A lot of innocent people might get hurt. I wouldn’t want to bring that down on you.”
Preacher looked at her thoughtfully. She made sense. The Community of God was not an army of fighters. Sooner or later, someone would give her away. He had an idea. He got to his feet. “Wait here,” he said. “I have to make a call.”
He went to a phone booth at the back of the diner. He put a dime in the slot and gave the operator his mother’s number. The telephone began to ring in his ear. “Sixty-five cents, please,” the operator said.
He placed the other coins in the box just as his mother answered. Her voice was filled with sleep. “Hello.”
“Mother,” he said.
A frightened concern leaped into her voice. “Constantine! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mother,” he said quickly. “Really.”
“It’s five o’clock in the morning,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry to wake you up. But I need you to do a very important favor for me.”
“Are you in trouble?” she asked.
“No, Mother. I just need a favor. A friend of mine, a girl, needs a place to stay and I want you to put her up for a while.”
“Is she a good girl?”
“She’s a good girl, Mother.”
“Is she Christian?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“She’s not a hippie?”
“No, Mother. I was a close friend of her brother. He died in my arms in Vietnam. Now her father is dead and her uncle wants to steal everything she owns. She needs a place to be quiet until the lawyers straighten things out.”
“What’s her name?”
“Beverly,” he hesitated. “Beverly Lee. She’s Chinese-American, Mother. A college graduate. She won’t be any trouble. Besides, she’ll be good for you. She’ll keep you company. With Father gone it will be good to have someone around the house to talk to.”
His mother hesitated. “You sure she’s a good girl?”
“Yes, Mother. I’m sure.”
He could still sense her hesitation. “It would be a real act of Christian charity, Mother. She really needs a friend like you.”
He could hear his mother take a deep breath. “All right. I’ll do it. But if I don’t think she’s good, she won’t stay a minute.”
“She won’t be any problem, Mother,” he said. “God will love you for it.”
“Are you going to bring her down?”
“I can’t, Mother. I have some important things to take care of. But I’ll see to it that she gets there.”
“When?”
“By tonight,” he said. “You can give her my room.”
“I will not,” she said firmly. “She can have the guest room.”
“Okay.”
“And when am I going to see you?”
“Soon, Mother. Maybe on the weekend.”
“She’ll be here tonight?”
“Yes, Mother. Thank you.”
“Take care of yourself, Constantine.”
“I will.”
“God bless you.”
“God bless you, Mother.” He put down the telephone and went back to the table. He stood there for a moment, looking down at them. “I think I have it solved.”
“What?” Barbara asked.
“My mother says you can stay with her for a while,” he answered, sliding back into the booth. “You’ll be all right there for a while. By the way, I told her your name was Beverly Lee. Forget Barbara Soong. From now on you’re Beverly. I’ll feel safer if there’s no connection.”
Barbara didn’t answer.
“When we get to Los Altos, I’ll take you to the bank and you can rent a safe-deposit vault for your money. Then we get you a car and you drive down to Mother’s.”
“I can’t impose on a total stranger like that,” Barbara said.
“She’s not a stranger,” he smiled. “She’s my mother.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was almost twelve o’clock when he stopped the pickup in front of his cottage. His eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep but he would feel better after a cold shower. It had taken longer than he thought to get Barbara off to his mother. At the last minute he had decided to send Ali Elijah with her so that she would not be alone. She wanted to put the money in a bank near where she would be staying and he didn’t argue with her. It was her money and she had the right to do with it what she wanted.
The Community was strangely quiet, but he was too tired to notice. Slowly he went into the cottage and began to undress. Wearily he pumped water into the overhead tank and stepped under the shower. The icy-cold spring water shocked him awake. He took a deep breath and began to scrub himself vigorously, then quickly rinsed the lather away. He grabbed a towel and began to dry himself.
The door opened and he looked up. Charlie came into the room. She had been crying. “Charlie, what’s wrong?”
She stared at him. “They went away, Preacher.”
“Who went away?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”
“They said you weren’t coming back. They wouldn’t listen to me.”
He gripped her shoulders. “Who?”
“Tarz and the others. They said it wasn’t the same anymore. The Community was getting to be just like everywhere else. Nothing but rules coming down. They couldn’t be free anymore. So they just got in their cars and took off.”
He stared at her. “When did this happen?”
“Just this morning after breakfast,” she said.
“Did they say where they were going?”
She shook her head. “They were scattering. Tarz divvied up the money in the safe and they took off.” She held up her hand. “I still got my money. See?”
He stared at it. Several crumpled dollar bills lay in the palm of her hand. “Where did he
get the money?”
“He took it from the safe. He said it was ours. We all worked for it.”
He reached for his Levi’s. “Anybody else stay here with you?”
“Maybe about a dozen of us. Only girls. All the men went and there was no more room in the cars. Most of them are getting their things together. They’re planning to go too.”
He buttoned his shirt and got into his boots. “You get them and meet me over at the meeting hall.” He ran out of the cottage.
The safe was open and he stared into it, a sick sinking feeling rising in his stomach. It was empty. Even the mortgage money was gone. Twenty thousand dollars.
He heard the girls behind him and turned around. They were staring at him. “Do any of you know where Tarz was going?”
They looked at each other, shaking their heads. Charlie answered for them. “He never said.”
“Who went in the car with him?”
“Nobody. He went in a car by himself.”
He was silent.
“What are we going to do, Preacher? They took practically everything with them.”
“We’re going to manage,” he said as firmly as he could. “It just means we’re all going to have to work harder, that’s all.”
“But there’s some things we just can’t do. We need men for those jobs.”
“Our job is to gather souls for Christ,” he said. “Women can do that work as well as any man. First thing you have to do is get yourselves together and get the buildings cleaned up. Charlie, you put two of the girls into the kitchen to take care of the cooking. I’m going to run up into town and see if I can hire some Mexicans to take care of the heavy work while we get ourselves reorganized.”
“I told you what Tarz said wasn’t true,” Charlie said to the girls. “Preacher’s back. He wasn’t going away.”
“What’s the use?” Melanie said in a discouraged voice. “It won’t work. There just isn’t enough of us.”
Preacher turned to her. “That’s not true, Melanie. Remember what John said in his Second Epistle.” He felt a strength come into his voice. “‘Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward.’” He paused for a moment and met their gaze. “And as for Tarz and the others, let them go. Again John says it better than I can. ‘Whosoever transgresseth, and abideth not in the doctrine of Christ, hath not God. He that abideth in the doctrine of Christ, he hath both the Father and the Son.’”
He turned and closed the open door of the safe and spun the dial, locking it. “Now, that’s behind us. God’s work is still in front of us. It’s time we began.”
He strode past them to the door then turned back to them. “I’ll be back in two hours. When I get back, I expect to see each of you getting things in order. By tomorrow we’re going to be back on a regular routine. From now on, we’re going to work even harder for Christ than we ever have before. Are you with me?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then their voices came to him. “Yes, Preacher.”
***
He drove into the bank’s parking lot and went into the building. He walked purposefully through the bank into the bank president’s office. The secretary looked up at him.
“I’m Preacher Talbot of the Community of God. I’d like to see Mr. Walton, please.”
The girl nodded and picked up a phone. She spoke into it, then gestured. “You can go right in.”
Mr. Walton was a thin man. He held out his hand, smiling. “Always good to see you, Preacher Talbot.”
Preacher shook his hand. “Mr. Walton.”
Walton waved him to a chair. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like a quick check on our balances,” Preacher said.
“Of course,” Mr. Walton said agreeably. He reached for the telephone. He caught a glimpse of the expression on Preacher’s face. “Is there anything wrong?”
Preacher met his gaze. “I don’t know. My treasurer left while I was on a business trip and is not returning.”
The smile left the banker’s face. A minute later Preacher had the balances on a piece of paper in his hand. The accounts were cleaned out.
He looked up at the banker. “Could you find out if the latest installment due on the mortgage was made?”
It hadn’t been paid and was already overdue. The banker was sympathetic. Of course he would be glad to extend the payment date. He wasn’t worried at all. The Community property was more than sufficient collateral for the loan.
He left the bank and went right to a telephone booth and called his mother. “Is Beverly there yet?”
“Not yet,” his mother answered.
“When she does get there,” he said, “would you ask her driver to come right back to the Community? I have some important things for him to do.”
He put down the telephone and went down to the employment office and arranged for three day-workers to come the next morning. Then he went back to the pickup and started back for the Community.
***
There were several automobiles in front of the meeting house when he came down the hill. One of them was familiar. It was Tarz’s car. He felt a sudden joy. Tarz had come back. Somehow, all along he had felt that he would. He went into the building.
His arms were seized the moment he stepped inside the door. Brother Ely’s voice came to his ears. “Howdy, Preacher.”
Brother Ely was sitting on the far end of the table. In a chair next to him, his face bruised and bloody, eyes almost swollen shut, sat Tarz. Behind them the girls were huddled against the wall, two men with heavy bullwhips standing in front of them. The girls stared at Preacher with wide frightened eyes.
Preacher twisted to free his arms but couldn’t break the grip in which the two men held them.
“Let him go,” Brother Ely said.
Preacher stood there for a moment just flexing his arms to relieve the ache. He stared down the table. “I told you not to come back.”
Brother Ely smiled. “We were just doing you a favor. Tarz has been a bad boy. We just thought we’d bring him back to you.”
“How did you know where to find him?”
Brother Ely laughed. “Easy. He telephoned us. He wanted us to take him back. But you know Brother Robert. He’s a stickler for honesty. He won’t deal with crooks.” He tossed a package on the table. “We even brought your money back to you. It’s all there. Over twenty thousand dollars. You can count it.”
Preacher stared at him silently, then walked around the table to Tarz. Gently, he held the young man’s face in his hands and studied it. The flesh was almost raw and he was sure that his nose and right cheekbone were broken. “There’s a first-aid kit in the back room,” he said. “And maybe you can let one of the girls bring me some ice from the kitchen. I can make him a little more comfortable until we get him to a doctor.”
Tarz’s swollen lips moved slightly. “Preacher. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t try to talk,” Preacher said gently. He looked at Brother Ely. “Well?”
Brother Ely nodded. “I almost forgot you were an army medic.” He gestured to one of his men. “Get him what he wants.”
Preacher worked quickly. In a few minutes he had Tarz’s face clean and small bandages over the cuts. Tarz moaned with pain. Swiftly, Preacher emptied a Syrette of morphine into the young man’s arm. A moment later Tarz was asleep.
Preacher straightened up. He looked at Brother Ely. “I don’t suppose Brother Robert is doing this out of Christian charity?”
“Of course,” Brother Ely smiled. “Would he have any other reason?”
“He would,” Preacher said. He glanced at the girls. “Why don’t you let the children go about their business while we talk?”
“That’s all right,” Brother Ely said. “They can hear what I have to say.”
Preacher pulled a chair up to the table and sat down opposite him. “Okay.”
“Brother Robert feels we can still work out a really good thing together.�
�
“I’m not convinced that we can,” Preacher said.
Brother Ely nodded. “He thought you might say that. He has another proposition to make you.”
“What’s that?”
Brother Ely looked at him. “Barbara Soong.”
“What about her?”
“You tell us where to find her and we’ll go our separate ways.”
“That’s easy,” Preacher said. “The third floor of their place on Grant Street.”
“You know better than that. She disappeared from there last night. Her uncle thinks you got her out of there. And Tarz told us you haven’t been here for a couple of days.”
Preacher shook his head. “You’re giving me a lot of credit I don’t deserve.”
“Maybe,” Brother Ely said. He gestured toward the girls. “There’s eleven of your children over there. It seems like a fair enough swap. Eleven for one.”
“It would be. If I had the one.”
Brother Ely made a small gesture. One of the men standing near the girls stepped back and cracked his whip. It sounded like a rifle shot in the large room. He cracked the whip again. This time it ripped down the front of the dress of the girl nearest him, cutting it as cleanly as a razor, leaving her almost naked. Again the whip cracked. This time a thin line of blood traced its way down her body from just under her throat, between her breasts, across her stomach and disappeared into her pubic hair. The girl caught her breath in a sudden cry, then stared down at herself as if she didn’t believe what had happened. She touched her throat with her hand. It came away covered with blood. She turned pale, her eyes rolling back in her head, and she slipped to the floor in a faint.
Brother Ely looked at Preacher. “One down, ten to go.”
“You’re wasting your time,” Preacher said. “I can’t make a deal for something I haven’t got.”
“They’re your children,” Brother Ely said. He turned to gesture again.
Preacher went over the table, taking advantage of a split second when everyone’s eyes were focused on the man with the whip. He wound up on the floor with Brother Ely in front of him, his hands clasped over the man’s ears, the needle of the Syrette he had palmed in Brother Ely’s left ear.
Spellbinder Page 8