Mission (45 page)

She frowned. ‘I don't understand.'

How could she? How could anyone guess what Miriam and I had been concealing? A secret that, depending on your point of view, was either truly and utterly amazing or totally absurd. I gazed at her, the words locked in my throat and thought of what The Man had said to me in his fleeting dream-like visit. Zacharias and Joseph had both
received important messages in dreams. Why not me? Even though Linda had worked with me for two years I did not know whether I could entrust her with the truth about Mr Sheppard. But I knew I could trust The Man. Or rather, should. I was still a little wary of my new-found belief that The Man would see me through the jam I was in. But he had told me to speak to Linda and now that she had confronted me, I was determined to try.

What could I lose? If she thought I had become unhinged and told Joe, it would only make him more convinced that I needed the holiday I intended to take. If she ratted on me she'd be out of a job, and if she kept it to herself but found it disturbing, she would leave anyway.

I motioned her to pull up a chair. ‘Linda,' I said, ‘I want you to level with me because what I'm about to tell you could wreck my career. Is McDonald offering you any kind of inducement to pump me on behalf of Channel Eight?'

She shook her head. ‘No. She figured she could crack the Berlin Wall you'd thrown up around Sheppard all by herself.' She waited for my reaction then, when nothing came down the line, she added, ‘That's the honest to God truth, Leo. I know what you're thinking but you're wrong. We've been to a couple of bars but the only thing she's interested in is finding herself a decent apartment. All of which is none of your damn business. I'm just trying to prove I like working here. Okay?'

I accepted this declaration with a nod. ‘Did she tell you anything about Mrs Perez?'

She looked puzzled. ‘Who's she?'

‘The lady who followed you from the dry cleaning store,' I said. ‘Tell me, your parents are Hungarian, right? So what does that make you – a Roman Catholic?'

‘Yes, but not a very good one,' she replied. ‘I go to Mass at Christmas and Easter. It's a kind of family thing. But I stopped going to confession when I was eighteen.'

‘But you still believe in God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, the Virgin Birth, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and all the rest of it…?'

She smiled. ‘Not fervently but yes, I go along with most of it. But what has this got to do with Sheppard?'

‘Good question …' I lit a cigarette to steady my nerve. ‘Do you believe in miracles?'

She looked at me curiously. I could see she was wondering where this was leading. ‘You mean like in the Bible? I'm not sure. I'm not too happy about the claims made by people who've been to Lourdes, but I do believe that there are certain individuals who have the gift of healing – even though I haven't actually met one.'

I hesitated then took one step nearer the brink. ‘Would you believe
me
if I told you that Doctor Maxwell and I had witnessed a miracle?'

‘I might,' she shrugged. ‘It depends what kind.'

‘Okay.' I took a deep breath. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that Sheppard, the man you went shopping with, was lying dead on a slab in a morgue three weeks ago?'

She did a nervous double-take. ‘Say that again?'

I spelt it out for her. ‘He was dead when I first saw him.'

‘Ahh,' she said. ‘I see what you mean. Someone thought he'd died but the doctors revived him. Amazing. I've heard of that happening. Some people have been dead for up to three hours.'

I shook my head. ‘No, you've got it wrong. There was no mistake. He was killed on Easter Friday. Only not this one. He died two thousand years ago. Forget the doctors. He didn't need them.' I glanced at my watch then sat back and waited.

Her eye flickered across my face then on to the objects on my desk, the window and the pictures on the wall behind me. As if she were playing ‘I Spy'.

‘It took him three days to get better,' I said helpfully.

She eyed me. ‘I know who died two thousand years ago,' she replied. ‘But it doesn't make sense. Whether he was dead or alive, how is it possible for you to see him here in Manhattan?'

‘Exactly,' I said. ‘
That's
the miracle …'

She sat there staring at me and let her breath out in a long slow sigh. ‘You can't be serious.'

‘On the contrary,' I replied. ‘I've never been more serious in all my life. Now perhaps you can understand why Doctor Maxwell and I felt we had to keep his presence here a secret.'

She laughed nervously. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you trying to tell me that Mr Sheppard is the Risen Christ?'

I smiled. ‘I know how you feel. His disciples had the same problem. Do you see now why I said it could wreck my career?'

She laughed again, as I knew she would. ‘I can see it could upset things a little.'

I leaned forward. ‘I'm not kidding, Linda. This is no joke, believe
me. Do you really think that I'd be sitting here telling you something that, if it got out, would probably get me certified? In the last three weeks I've seen and heard enough things to put me into the nut-house ten times over. Luckily, Miriam's been there to witness most of it. Do you think McDonald would be following me around if I was making all this up? Ask her to tell you what happened to Mrs Perez, the lady who followed you, and who dry cleaned Sheppard's robe, then come back and talk to me.'

She stared at me, chewing her lip. Trying to dispel the disquieting feeling that I might be telling the truth. ‘But Leo,' she said. ‘I talked to him. He told me about his place in California, what he was writing – he even knew people that I knew who worked out at Universal Studios.'

‘Of course he does,' I laughed. ‘I told him what to say. And he got all that stuff about Universal Pictures out of your own head.'

Her cheeks flushed red.

‘Don't worry,' I said. ‘He knows everything about me too. When he landed on me, I had to give him some kind of cover story. I mean, come on, what would you have thought if I'd asked you to take Jesus Christ shopping in Macy's?'

She laughed again. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.' She shook her head. ‘Listen, it's a wonderful idea but I have to be honest with you. I accept that you believe it but – it's not possible.'

‘Of course it isn't,' I said. ‘That's what I kept telling myself when he arrived here three weeks ago. But what I've seen has convinced me otherwise.'

She fixed me with her eyes. ‘Where is he now?'

I stared straight back at her. ‘I believe he is in first-century Jerusalem. One of the things he's told us is that Time is simultaneous. The past is still happening, the future already exists. And he has the power to manifest himself in any place and any century he chooses.'

Linda closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘No … it's not true. It – it doesn't make sense.'

‘It doesn't make sense to us,' I said. ‘But it's happening nevertheless. And I may soon have the opportunity to prove it to you.'

She looked at me, her eyes besieged with doubt. It sounds awful but, as with Russell and Marcello, I enjoyed seeing someone else going through the mill. ‘I don't wish to sound insulting,' I said, ‘but it should be easier for you. After all, you
are
a Christian. There are
plenty of Catholic saints who claimed to have a nodding acquaintance with Jesus. Didn't you say yourself that he was a special kind of person?'

Linda thought it over. ‘How many other people know about this?'

‘Just you, Doctor Maxwell and myself,' I said. ‘He also met Mrs Perez but I think she has been persuaded that what she actually experienced was an ecstatic vision.'

She nodded. ‘But if this is true, why haven't you told the Vatican?'

I sucked air through my teeth. ‘That's one of the problems. From what I've learned so far, they and The Man may not have a lot in common.'

She raised an eyebrow. ‘The Man?'

‘It's what we call him,' I explained. ‘You see, he doesn't really fit the image people conjure up when you talk about Jesus Christ.'

‘Okay,' she said. ‘How about someone in the Government?'

I threw up my hands. ‘Who should I call, Linda? Do you really think the people in the White House would be pleased to hear that Jesus Christ was arriving on the next flight into Dulles?'

‘Yes, but, Leo, if this is true don't you think people have a right to know? Surely, for millions of people all over the world to know that he was actually here would be the most wonderful thing that could ever happen.'

‘Linda,' I said, ‘I've been beating my brains out over what to do ever since The Man got here. Believe me, it's not that simple. I don't know what it is he's come to do but if he wanted the whole world to know he could have landed directly on the lawn of the White House.' I smiled. ‘And I think everybody that heard about it would be as sceptical as you are.'

‘Give me time,' she said. ‘When you hand out something like this, it takes a bit of getting used to.'

‘Yeah, well, for what it's worth, he told me to share the news with you.' I smiled. ‘That's why you're sitting here instead of clearing out your desk.'

She grimaced. ‘That close, huh? Are you expecting him back?'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘Don't worry. You'll be the first to know.'

Although the information I'd imparted to Linda was what the Pentagon would label ‘highly sensitive', I did not attempt to extract an oath of secrecy. I knew what I'd told her was so incredible, she wouldn't breathe a word to anybody for fear of being certified herself. In an odd way I felt better that Miriam and I were no longer bearing
the burden alone. Linda had got what she'd asked for and, like me, was probably now wishing her curiosity hadn't got the better of her. I had urged her to question Gale McDonald and if, contrary to my opinion, she decided to pass the news on, then that would save me the trouble. McDonald, Fowler, or whoever she chose as the recipient would either find the information riveting or risible. The egg would be on her face, not mine.

You may find this sudden change of heart somewhat surprising after my earlier agonising, but the fact is something
had
changed inside me. Whether it was what Miriam had said to me, or whether I had been reprogrammed by The Man is hard to say. All I knew was that I had become detached from many of the concerns which cluttered my day-to-day existence. I was beginning to see things more clearly. Narrowing my field of view down to focus on the essentials. Moving towards the stillness at the centre.

Towards the end of the afternoon, Joe Gutzman came into my office with his coat on. ‘I spoke to Friedman. You didn't call him yet.'

‘Yes, I know,' I said. ‘I've been busy trying to clear my desk. Have you had any more thoughts on the Delaware appeal?'

Joe raised a hand in supplication to the invisible god who sometimes answers the prayers of Jewish lawyers. ‘Corinne's going over the transcripts but so far she hasn't found any flaws in your argument. I've said I'll look through it next week. Who knows? Maybe the judge didn't like your aftershave.' His eyes told me that my temporary defection had been forgiven. ‘Are you going down to stay with your folks in Florida?'

It was the last thing in the world I intended to do but I didn't destroy the image he'd built of me. ‘I'd like to but they're on a cruise right now.' I gestured through the open doorway to where Linda sat busily tapping out the last typewritten letters I would ever sign. ‘Linda here will know where I am – and she'll hold things together while I'm away.'

Joe sized Linda up with a nod then drew her attention to me. ‘Make sure this young man gets a check-up before he leaves town. He's to see Sol Friedman. My secretary will give you his number. Just mention my name when you ring up to make the appointment.'

‘Joe,' I said. ‘There's nothing wrong with me. It's a waste of his time and the firm's money.'

Joe looked beseechingly at Linda then turned to me with his hand on his heart. ‘Leo, first you turn down my daughter, then you turn
down my clients. Personal friends. Now it's my doctor who's a
nebbish.
Is there something you're trying to tell me?'

‘Joe, come on,' I protested. ‘You know it's not like that.'

‘So humour me,' he said, giving me his old faithful bloodhound look.

I patted him on the shoulder. ‘Okay. I'll call him first thing Monday. I promise.'

One more that I didn't keep.

Saturday, 9th of May. I collected Miriam in the morning and we drove up to Sleepy Hollow. It was another warm spring day and we spent most of it outside gathering wood which I then sawed by hand. It gave me great satisfaction, an aching shoulder and a good excuse for not painting the front porch which, in any case, still needed some work on the side-rails. The only carpenter I knew was out of town. I can change a fuse but that was about the limit of my handyman skills. It's always been easier to pick up the telephone. It's still difficult to realise that that is something I will never be able to do again.

Miriam raked up the leaves that had been left over from the previous fall and we made a bonfire and pottered around in the fresh air until long after the sun went down. When we got inside, our faces tingled and our hair and sweaters smelt of woodsmoke. Spring and autumn rolled into one. A beginning and an end. Inexorable – and totally unforeseen.

I used some of the branches to build a fire in the living-room while Miriam put some supper together. We ate in the glow of the flames then pushed the plates aside, pulled the cushions off the sofa and lay there propped up against each other, gazing into the fire as the pine wood popped and crackled, sending flurries of sparks up the stone chimney.