The Green Ripper Part 12

So I felt like an idiot. Sitting on the floor of an old trailer, doing some kind of mantra thing with a flaky female terrorist. But I did as directed. When Meyer was into hypnosis, he had me doing some odd things. I was difficult at first, until I realized that it wouldn't hurt me to try to cooperate. Then he could manage it. It delighted him. Going under seemed to make a little roaring sound in my head, reminiscent of the first few seconds before one pa.s.ses out. I did as I was told, looking into Nena's dark wide eyes, and soon the little roaring sound started, taking me into a different level of consciousness. We are one. Quite suddenly I could hear her voice inside my head instead of my own. And I could no longer see the rest of her face with my peripheral vision, only her eyes. The breathing seemed to be becoming much slower. Her pulse was a very slow steady throb against my finger pad. It was all sensation, without thought. Going on and on and on.

I was aware that she had ended it. Her hands were gone from mine. Contact broken. It was like coming slowly up from the bottom of a deep clear pool, seeing the sunlight on the surface above. I gave myself a slow shake, like an old wet dog, and looked at her.

She was flushed, and looking at me oddly. "What's the matter?" I asked her. "Worked pretty good."

"I know. Better than with most people when it's the first time. I didn't expect that. Knowing your background. Only the most sensitive and imaginative and intelligent people go into semuanja baik so quick."

"Semu-what?"

"It's an Indonesian phrase. It means everything is all right. Don't worry. Be rea.s.sured. Sister Elena Marie says it is synergy. One person plus one person equals more than two persons."

"Were you telling me I'm some kind of dummy?"

"No. It's just very strange you should get so deeply into it the very first time. It, was... very stirring. And it makes a person feel very s.e.xy."

"I noticed." She was still frowning at me. I felt certain she would report this unexpected facility to Persival and it would rekindle his doubts. I said, quickly, "I used to have this partner I'd go netting with. I used to get these headaches all the time. He said he could hypnotize me out of them, and he tried and tried and tried, and when he was about to give up, I finally went under. It helped a lot. So when you started this semu-something, it felt like it did when he was putting me under, so I let myself go."

She stopped frowning and gave a brisk little nod. "Of course. That would be it, wouldn't it? We use it to reinforce the joining together. When people begin to have doubts, when they begin to think they're not strong enough for what the Church demands, then they can do semuanja batk and be strengthened and refreshed. When I listen to Sister Elena Marie on the tape, I get sort of the same feeling. Not as intense, but it's there. That farawayness. Brother Persival says it's that quality that made her such a success when she was an evangelist. When she used to broadcast, with a choir of two hundred voices, from the Tabernacle in Biloxi. That was before she founded the Church of the Apocrypha, before she had taken the name Sister Elena Marie."

"What did her name used to be?"

"I wouldn't tell you except she was so well known a lot of people know it. She was Bobbie Jo Annison. She started preaching the gospel when she was sixteen. They got up to over a hundred and fifty stations toward the end, and she took in millions of dollars for good works. But she decided it was not the true faith, and there were too many advisers trying to run things, and the government was after her for taxes and all. And she decided that it was vanity that had taken over for piety, being on the air so much. So she quit and she founded our Church. Maybe it was about nine years ago, or ten. There used to be things in the magazines. Whatever happened to Bobbie Jo Annison? I expect you heard the name before."

"It sounds kind of familiar, but I was never much for turning on television for anything at all."

"She is the greatest woman who ever lived."

"You mean that?"

"I would die for her. I probably will die for her, and be reborn into my own ident.i.ty in the next incarnation. That's the reward for dying for the Church. Sometimes, after I have prayed a long time, and very hard, suddenly I can hear her voice inside my head saying my words in her voice to the Lord. Sister Stella can make that happen, too. It's wonderful when it happens." Her face glowed.

"Speaking of Stella, maybe you can tell me the ground rules around here. I don't want to get into trouble."

"Because she came to your bed? No, there is no objection. It could have been suggested to her. I didn't ask and she didn't tell me. If the two of you slept only with each other, that would be bad."

"Is that rule in Sister Elena Marie's book?"

"Not in this book. In another of her books there is a chapter about sharing. She says that making love should be a simple function, and not be given too much importance in this era. She says that when we were all alive in earlier centuries, it was different. We were all faithful to just one person, and it was good and natural and right. And when we come back to earth again, in future centuries, it will probably be like that again. But now, in this world, if we begin to think too much of some other person, it will make us weak in our duty as soldiers in the Army of the Lord. We might forget our own mission in trying to save another person from hurt."

"Is this sharing okay in the other camps that aren't special? Like when my little girl was here?"

"Oh, no. You have to be celibate your first few years in the Church. You must give up everything for the Church. But we in special training have proved we will not be weakened by s.e.xual pleasure, and if we wish it, it is permitted."

"As long as you spread it around."

"Is that some kind of a dirty joke to you?"

"I didn't know any other way to say it, Nena."

"You must call me Sister Nena, nothing else."

"How did you come to get selected for this training?"

"Everyone in the Church is watched. Actually they are testing all of us all the time, keeping track of the ones with the strongest faith and the strongest, quickest bodies. When they told me I had been selected for special training, I didn't even know what kind of training it would be. Now I know, and I'll do whatever they ask of me."

"Like blow up some kindergartens?"

"You really don't understand, do you? The most b.l.o.o.d.y, savage, awful acts that seem the most pointless, they're the ones that are most productive. They revolt and shock everyone, and that puts terrible pressure on the central govern ment and local governments to crack down on fill the people who are nonconformist in any way. When that happens, the resentment makes rebels out of the conformists too, and pretty soon the whole structure crumbles."

"And you can do these terrible things, Sister Nena?"

"I might be asked to do things that will make rne feel sort of sick to my stomach. But I'll be proud of the chance to do them. I'm exalted to think I'll be part of something that's going to change the world. I'm proud of finally finding something in my life that makes sense, Brother Thomas. Has your life really made sense to you?"

"Sense? I don't know. I've had a few laughs. I've had some real good days. And some black black ones. Who says things have to make sense?"

"We want it to. Every one of us. We don't understand it, and Sister Elena Marie sorts it all out for us."

"Well, I wish I could go see the lady and let her explain it all to me."

"You saw the tape. Didn't that help?"

"I guess so. A little bit."

"Brother Thomas, we are all getting very fond of you, you know. We are enjoying having you with us. Please don't have doubts. Just don't think about it. Be open. And when the time comes, Brother Persival will have a mission for you, and you will want to perform it properly and please us all."

"Is that a first name or a last name? Persival."

"I really don't know. One of the rules of the Church is that everyone has just one name. And you can pick any part of your first name or last name, or you can make up a name, and then it is yours forever."

"Don't you get a lot of duplications?"

"Of course. What difference does that make? We don't pay taxes and we're not on social security and there is no payroll."

"Then it could be tough locating my little girl Kathy."

"In all the regular camps there must be hundreds of Kathys. People are supposed to forget their last names. So even if they paged her in all the regular camps, she might not answer."

"The boss lady has two names."

"Please don't call her that! She is the only person who is allowed to have two names. The only one in the whole Church."

I had untangled myself, and the feeling was coming back into my legs. She was back on the bed. By the way she moved I could see she no longer had an ankle problem.

"Well, take care of yourself, Sister Nena."

She smiled at me. "Sure. Sister Stella is very fond of you, did you know that?"

"I thought we were all very fond of each other. Isn't that the house rule?"

She pursed her lips as she stared at me. "Sometimes when you sound sarcastic you are like another person."

"In what way?"

"I don't really know."

I changed the subject. "Better stay off that ankle as much as you can."

"It's okay now. But thanks for carrying me."

I stepped down out of the trailer and closed the tin door. The misty rain had stopped. I did not see anyone around. I took a bath in the creek and changed to my other set of clothes and washed out the coveralls.

As I scrubbed away I thought about my very few options. I could stay here and keep my head down and try to get a line on where their headquarters might be located, then try to sneak away somehow and report to that memorized phone number. I could plan and carry out some kind of group ambush, kill every one of them, and then hunt through all their stuff for clues about the rest of the organization. But even if I could see myself executing all these crazies, little girls and all, my ability to do it was questionable. They were trim and tough and wary. Splendid reflexes.

I could hang around until my mission, and then defect once I was at sea on the boat I was going to have to buy. By that time things would be popping all over the country, apparently. Sniping, fires, explosions, ma.s.sacres, and G.o.d knows what all.

And once again I saw Gretel's face, the way the fever had wasted her, saw her chest pumping as the machine breathed for her, saw the laughlines around her dying eyes.

And I thought then of a provisional plan. Nicky was dead. Maybe they would find out I wasn't what I had pretended to be. If so, the odds might be improved between now and then. Nine to one read better than ten to one... a little better. Keep the eyes open. Improvise.

I stood up quickly, turning as I rose, and saw a flicker of movement beyond a big tree a hundred feet away. Suspicion confirmed. Keep an eye on Brother Thomas, but without giving yourself away. And we'll see what he does.

Well, he just hung around and washed himself and some clothes. He spent an hour with Sister Nena. He doesn't seem to want to take off.

That night I got up from the table and went over to where Persival sat with Alvor. I said, "I don't see any good reason why you have to hang on to my money."

"People in the Church have no need for money."

"I'm not in the Church yet."

"Your money is safe."

"You give me a list of the regular camps where my Kathy might be, and I'll go check them out, and then I'll come back here whether I find her or not."

"Would you try to take her away from the camp?"

"No. I just want to see how she looks grown up, and tell her that her ma is dead. That's all. I want to make sure she's alive."

"We're trying to locate her for you."

"You keep telling me that."

"What need would you have for money here? It's safe. Now go back and sit down, Brother. You're doing fine here. Don't spoil it."

"Suppose I decided to leave anyway?"

They looked up at me. Brother Alvor had eyes like dry pebbles. Brother Persival said, "Then we'll bury you beside Brother Nicholas and say a prayer over you. And make do without you."

I know the truth when I hear it. I went back to the other table. The others were finis.h.i.+ng. They looked at me with curiosity, but asked no questions.

They resumed their conversation. Chuck was being the instructor again. Topic, thermite pencils.

"Remember, they maintain a temperature of twelve hundred degrees Fahrenheit for ten minutes. They aren't like the older ones we had. Those were too complicated. You twist this end one full turn, and that breaks the seal so that the acid starts to eat through the barrier. It will take two hours to eat through, plus or minus ten minutes. Remember, the secret is saturation. A team of four can start at a designated point in the heart of a city, and each head out in a different direction like the spokes of a wheel, on foot. The cover story is the distribution of pamphlets. Each team member can carry and distribute two hundred pencils. You've read the list of preferred types of locations. You walk ten blocks out from the primary target area and then, a half hour later, walk the circ.u.mference of an imaginary wheel, building a circle of future fire around the heart of the city. In that way you can trap most of the fire-fighting organizations between the two fires, and also we're told that this dispersion is the most effective way of creating a fire storm."

He was still talking when I walked out.

Thirteen.

ON SAt.u.r.dAY, Sunday, and Monday, the last three days of the year, I tried to find out everything I could about the area. I located everyone's quarters and realized there was room for twice as many. Haris told me there had been more travel trailers, and what was now the warehouse had been a bunkhouse, capable of accommodating a hundred and fifty.

The one time I had looked into the warehouse, I had seen, in the light of the small bulb near the door, towering stacks of crates and boxes. It seemed to be much more than these few people could use or carry.

On Monday I learned by accident of one deadly item they were warehousing. It was obvious I had no chance to get in there. I happened upon Ahman out behind the small mess hall, where the gra.s.s grew tall and coa.r.s.e. He was backing away, looking intently at the gra.s.s. I did not see what he was looking at for a few moments, and then I saw it, a cylinder about three feet high, three inches in circ.u.mference.

"Hard to see it?" he asked. "I've been trying different ways of painting it. The d.a.m.n things came through all s.h.i.+ny. I striped this one green and brown, vertically. It seems to work the best. Kind of wavy lines, like gra.s.s."

I walked toward it with him. "What is it?"

"It's a little rocket."

"What does it do?"

"It does what rockets do, Brother. It goes whoosh-bam."

"Thanks a lot."

He hesitated, then said, "It's on a spike, see? You shove it into the ground at a little slant. You find a good place, a half mile from the end of a runway. Then you pull this top cap off and throw it away. Then you unscrew this little cap down here near the base. Then you push this little switch, and from then on you make no loud noises, Brother. It is an acoustic trigger. A loud noise, like a jet going over low, closes the circuit, and that ignites the propellant and it comes out fast. Little vanes snap open. It's a heat-finder. Little heat-sensitive guidance system. It will pick right up to a thousand meters a second, which is somewhere around two thousand miles an hour. It has a four-mile range and it'll hit the hottest thing it can find, which will be a jet engine, and it's got enough muscle to blow off a wing or a tail, whatever. They come six in a case, labeled kitchen equipment, and we've got ten cases. It's a low-risk operation. The best way is a telephone company truck. You always see them off on back roads, and you never think twice about it."

"Commercial airports?"

"We certainly couldn't get close enough to military ones even if we wanted to."

"Where are they made?"

"It doesn't say. The instructions come in six languages."

I hoped I did not look as shaken as I felt. If only one out of every six ignited and hit a target, it would be the worst airline disaster of all time. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are on our final approach to San Francisco International Airport. Please put out all cigarettes and make sure your seat belts are fastened and your tray tables are in an upright position. It has been our pleasure serving you, and we hope you will fly..." bam.

He picked it up gently and, holding it so as not to smear his paint job, carried it off toward the warehouse. I went back into the mess hall. It was my turn on the food detail. I stared at the supplies and couldn't decide what to have. I felt queasy.

I jumped a foot in the air when somebody slapped me on the behind. It was Stella, back from her morning wars, grinning, showing a lot of uneven teeth. And smelling faintly of cordite. "Hey, you got bad nerves, Brother Tom."

"Looks that way."