Holy Terror (53 page)

They reached the doors but a uniformed guard stepped in front of them, blocking their exit.

‘Hold up, there! I'm sorry, folks! I'm closing these doors! I just had the order through that nobody leaves!'

Sidney approached him with complete calm and laid a hand on his sleeve. ‘You didn't hear that
second order, did you, son? Maybe you weren't listening.'

‘Second order? What second order?'

‘You know us, don't you, son? Our faces are so familiar to you. You've seen us before.'

‘I'm not sure that I—'

‘Remember those warm sunny days when you were a kid? That's when you met us. We always made you feel so safe, so reassured. We still make you feel good. We're like your grandparents, in a way. Now you remember that second order, don't you? That second order was to let us pass, so that we can make everything right.'

The young officer's eyes darted nervously from side to side, but he was beginning to smile. ‘OK, sure,' he said, and stepped back so that they could leave. There was a noisy protest from the crowd of people behind them, and a lot of violent jostling, but the officer held them back.

‘Are you sure this is a wise thing to do?' Sidney panted, as they hurried through to the main lobby. ‘Supposing we're carrying the virus, too?'

‘Well,
I
feel OK, do you? I think those delegates were specifically infected, one by one, although I don't know how.'

They crossed the main lobby, pushing their way through the crowds. But here, too, the doors had already been barred. A klaxon was blaring and people were milling around in complete confusion. Even the girls at the information desk were shrugging and shaking their heads. ‘Is there a
fire
?' asked a large woman with a bagful of souvenirs. Outside the building, a grade-school teacher was knocking on
the doors to get in, a whole crocodile of children waiting impatiently behind her.

Like a cat seen out of the comer of his eye, Conor glimpsed a thin man in white coveralls turning a comer by the telephones. He saw him for less than a second but he knew who he was. The florist, who had been arranging the dove motif in red and white chrysanthemums, right by the delegates' entrance to the General Assembly chamber. He was dark-haired, and he had been wearing a face mask then, but Conor hadn't really paid him much attention. Maybe his plastic water spray had contained insecticide or biological plant food, something you wouldn't want to breathe in.

Like a virus
.

He grabbed Eleanor's arm. ‘There – I swear to God that was Dennis Branch.'

‘Where? Here? In
person
? You're sure?'

‘I
know
it. I had a gut feeling he was going to be here.'

He hurried to the comer. Beyond the telephones were the elevators, but as they approached them, Conor realized that three of them were on their way down, and that the other two had risen too far for Dennis Branch to have caught them in time. On the right-hand side of the elevators was a door to the stairs. It had a hydraulic hinge, and it hadn't quite finished closing yet; and when Conor wrenched it open and listened, he could hear sneakers scuffing on concrete treads.

‘He's climbing the stairs. I'll go after him. You take the next elevator. I'll keep in touch with my mobile phone.'

‘Don't worry,' said Sidney, lifting his stick. ‘You can count on us.'

Conor started to climb the stairs. He was still fit but Dennis Branch must have had legs like an antelope, because Conor could hear him race higher and higher, his footsteps echoing all the way down the stairwell. Conor gripped the handrail and heaved himself up, two and three stairs at a time.
You bastard
, he thought, over and over.
You bastard, I'm going to get you for this
. It was sheer hatred that kept him going.

When he reached the twelfth floor, his telephone rang. Gasping for breath, he stopped to answer it.

‘Conor, it's Sidney. We're on the twenty-fifth floor.'

‘I'm on twelve. Stay there until I reach you. But don't try anything confrontational.'

‘Conor, Eleanor's had a heart attack.'

‘Oh, Jesus. She isn't—'

‘She says she's OK, Conor, but I've had to call for the paramedics. Listen, I'm sorry. I have to stay with her.'

‘Sidney, this is one moment when I really need you.'

‘I know that, Conor. But this is one moment when my Bipsy needs me more.'

Conor stood with his head bowed, sweating and breathing hard. O Lord, he thought, these things are certainly sent to try us.

Sidney said, ‘Conor? Conor? Can you hear me?'

‘Sure, Sidney. I can hear you.'

‘Don't lose your concentration, Conor. Don't lose your faith. Confuse him, but flatter him. Distract
him, but let him hear what he really wants to hear. You can do it. You have the presence. You have the voice. You have the confidence, too.'

‘Sidney—'

‘There's no alternative, Conor. I'm not leaving Eleanor for you or Dennis Branch or anybody else. I left her once before and ruined my life. I don't have many years left. I want a chance to live them with the woman I love.'

Conor didn't reply, but switched off his phone and started climbing again. This time, he was powered not only by hatred but by real rage, and he bounded up the stairs without holding the handrail, his face grim, sweat stinging his eyes. His leg muscles felt as if they were blazing, but he kept on climbing, and at last he reached the roof exit on top of the Secretariat Building. He kicked open the door and found himself out in the open, under a scurrying gray sky, with rain spitefully lashing in the wind.

In front of the Secretariat Building, the flags of the United Nations' member states were flying, all 175 of them, and in this wind they made a noise like hundreds of horses galloping. Beyond the flags, Conor could see the PanAm Building and silvery spire of the Chrysler Building; and if he turned north he could see the Lipstick Building where Lacey worked. To the east was the dun-colored waters of the East River, with barges slowly beating their way upstream; and beyond, the housing projects of Queens.

Dennis Branch was standing close to the edge of the roof, his arms spread wide. He had taken off his face mask but he was still wearing a dark-haired wig.
In one hand he was holding the plastic spray bottle which he had been using in the lobby. He didn't turn around as Conor approached.

‘
I love the Lord because He hears my voice and my supplications. Because He has inclined His ear to me. Therefore I shall call upon Him as long as I live. The cords of death encompass me. I found distress and sorrow. Then I called upon the name of the Lord, “O Lord I beseech Thee, save my life
!”'

Conor took two steps toward him and then he suddenly saw how far down it was to the street below. A huge rush of vertigo overwhelmed him, and he stood where he was, breathless, unable to move, unable to speak.

‘Well, well, Mr O'Neil. My self-appointed nemesis. A little too late this time, Mr O'Neil.'

Conor couldn't do anything but close his eyes. He could feel the wind against his face and he could hear the traffic far below, and even with his eyes closed he was dizzy.

‘What's the matter, Mr O'Neil?' Dennis Branch taunted him. ‘Lost your nerve, all of a sudden?'

Conor wished to God that Sidney were here. But then he thought of Eleanor, stricken with a heart attack; and when he thought of Eleanor, he remembered what she had said to him. ‘
Beat them. Beat the bastards. You're Conor O'Neil. Nobody can tell you what to do, and you can do whatever it takes
.'

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. It was still a long way down to the ground but he did his best to ignore it. He looked steadily at Dennis Branch and said, ‘It's over, Dennis.'

‘Over? How can it be over? It's just begun. If they
don't renounce their religions after what happened here today, we'll be spreading the virus all over the world. Every major city in every country.'

‘Neat idea, that water spray.'

‘Not just neat, it's the very best way of spreading an airborne virus. Blossom Time Inc. kindly offered to donate a floral display to commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of the Biological Weapons Convention. Appropriate, yes? Their offer was graciously accepted; and here I am. Who was going to suspect some menial florist trying to make a dove out of white chrysanthemums? Except that when every delegate went past, I sprayed the air in front of him with a fine haze of virus-infected droplets. One breath, and into the nose and throat it went, and into the lungs. Did you see how quickly it worked? That was Evelyn's doing. She tweaked it a little … crossed some of the samples with a pneumonia virus that she's been working on for years. Genetic modification, I believe you call it. I call it Evelyn's revenge.'

‘Well, you sure made your point,' said Conor, thrusting his hands into his pockets against the cold. ‘Nobody's going to dare to gainsay you now. Nor the Word of the Lord.'

Dennis turned around. ‘I feel good, Mr O'Neil. I have to admit it.'

‘So what are you going to do now?'

‘I'm waiting for my ride. In precisely three minutes from now, a helicopter will be arriving to take me on my way.'

‘You took a risk, doing this yourself. You could have got one of your minions to do it for you.'

Dennis shook his head. ‘This is for Evelyn. I had to make sure that there were no mistakes. Besides, it wouldn't have been right to delegate anybody else to do it. This is my movement, this is my holy struggle, and if I can't stand right at the head of my army and smite the unbelievers with my own sword, then what kind of a leader am I?

‘Did Christ send somebody else to die on the cross in His place? No, He did not. He took the risks and He suffered the consequences, and that's why Christ is the King of Heaven. This virus is my terrible swift sword, Mr O'Neil, and I was the one who had to wield it.'

Conor said, ‘They're dying down there, Dennis. They're coughing and they're choking and they're dying.'

‘And so will millions more, before I'm through. Better to be dead, than follow a false prophet.'

‘You know something,' said Conor, ‘I never met anybody with your kind of vision before. I never met anybody with such belief in himself.'

For a split second, Conor thought that he might have flattered Dennis too much. But Dennis came up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder and gave him the broadest of smiles. ‘You're feeling relaxed now, aren't you, Mr O'Neil? You're feeling good. You're feeling that you've done everything you possibly can to stop me, so – even though you've failed – you're satisfied that you've done your best.'

Conor looked into his eyes and suddenly realized that Dennis was trying to induce a hypnotic trance. In
him
, while he was trying to induce one in Dennis.

He tried to think of what Magda had told him.
Don't concentrate. Don't answer questions. Try to distract the would-be hypnotist by turning his mind back in on himself.

He looked out over the river, and then he looked back again. ‘When I think what you're doing here, Dennis … converting an entire planet to one true religion … well, there's only one word for it. Messianic. That's you. You're the new Messiah. Everybody's been waiting for a second coming and I'll bet you never realized until now that you were it.'

Dennis's smile puckered in appreciation. Conor had diverted his attention by making him think about his favorite subject: himself. ‘I think I might have misjudged you, Mr O'Neil. You understand me, don't you? In fact I think you understand me better than I understand myself. Did you know that one in four adult Americans believes that the Messiah will return in their lifetime? Did you know that? It's a true statistic. And you're right. I never, ever imagined that it would be me.'

Conor lifted Dennis's right hand off his shoulder and clasped it warmly. ‘What happened to Evelyn … I'm real sorry about that. I didn't kill her. I guess she just had a compulsion. You must feel like you've lost half of yourself.'

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers through Dennis's fingers, stroking his palm and the inside of his wrist. ‘But now you're going to be the new Messiah. You're going to be the leader of every religion in the world. Who knows? With God's blessing, you may be able to bring Evelyn back.'

‘You think so? You mean, bring her back to life?'

‘Jesus did it. Who's to say that you can't do it?
After what you've done today, you've proved yourself, haven't you? You've crowned yourself with a crown of light and a crown of thorns. You can turn water into wine. You can walk across the East River

‘And

‘You can actually fly.'

Dennis turned back to the edge of the roof. The wind was gusting strongly now, so that he could hardly stand straight. Over toward JFK, planes were circling in to land. And further to the south, a helicopter was approaching – only a speck so far, but Conor could already hear the flack-flack-flack of its rotor.

‘You're not Satan, are you?' asked Dennis, suddenly suspicious. ‘You're not trying to tempt me, the way that Satan tempted Our Lord? “
And He was in the wilderness forty days being tempted by Satan; and He was with the wild beasts; and the angels were ministering unto Him
.”'

‘And do you know what that means?' said Conor. ‘The angels bore Him up, and He could fly.'

‘You're tempting me!' Dennis screamed. ‘What are you doing to my head?'

Inside his pocket, Conor was rubbing his fingers against the striking strip on a book of matches that he had brought back from Norway. They were better than the American books, more combustible. He took his hand out and lifted it up, and popped his fingers. A cloud of blue smoke puffed out, and Dennis was transfixed.