Repairman Jack [08]-Crisscross (20 page)

"And why are you calling me 'Mr. Farrell' when you say that's not my name?"

"I-I don't have any other name to call you. Look, if you'll just come back, I'm sure we can—"

"You also said you don't allow lies in Dormentalist temples—only truth. If that's true, why do you want me back?"

"Because… because I was too hasty." Jack could almost hear him squirm. "After you left I did some investigating and learned that your RT made several errors. Errors which would rightfully upset anyone."

"I'll say!"

"I promise you she's being disciplined. She'll be sent before the FPRB and—"

"The what?"

"The Fusion Progress Review Board. Her behavior will be reviewed and appropriate disciplinary measures taken."

Electroshock therapy, I hope, Jack thought, remembering that hapless mouse.

He figured it was time to waver, but not before twisting the knife.

"Well, that's encouraging, but what about you? You didn't even give me a chance to speak. Are you going before this FPRB?"

"Well, ah, no. You have to understand, Mr. Farrell, that the Church i& under constant assault, and sometimes we get jumpy. I realized that you had volunteered your real name but I wouldn't listen, so I discussed the matter with Mr. Brady."

Time to be impressed. "
Luther
Brady? You discussed me with Luther Brady himself?"

"Yes, and he was very upset that you'd come to the Church for help and we'd turned you away. He wants to meet with you personally when you come back."

Bump it up to breathy-voiced awe: "Luther Brady wants to meet with
me
? That's… that's…" a little catch in the voice here "… wonderful! When can I come back?"

"Anytime you wish, but the sooner the better as far as we're concerned."

"I'll be right down."

"Excellent! I'll have somebody meet you at—"

"Not just 'somebody,'" Jack said, unable to resist one last turn of the blade. "You. I want the Grand Paladin himself there to bring me in."

Jack heard Jensen swallow, then say, "Why, of course. I'd be happy to."

Oh, yeah. I'll bet you're just dying to be my escort to Luther Brady.

Jack considered asking Jensen to bark like a dog but canned it. He grinned as he ended the call.

Finding Johnny Roselli was turning out to be fun.

2

Grand Paladin Jensen took up most of the elevator cab. Jack managed to squeeze in beside him and find a way to stand without rubbing elbows with his black uniform, but that was it. The two of them pretty much maxed out the space. Gollum might have been able to make it a threesome, but that was iffy.

As Jensen pressed the 22 button, Jack decided to go into chatty mode.

"All the way to the top, huh?"

Jensen nodded, staring at the doors. "That's Mr. Brady's floor."

"The
whole
floor?"

Another nod. "The whole floor."

"I'm really looking forward to meeting him. Will he be waiting for us?"

Jensen had the look of a man trying to be cool while a Doberman sniffed his crotch.

"He's expecting us."

"Do you have a first name, Mr. Jensen?"

"Yes."

Jack waited a few seconds. When it became obvious Jensen wasn't going to volunteer anything else, Jack said, "And that would be…?"

Jensen kept staring straight ahead. "That would be a name I don't use."

Yessiree, the size of a GE double oven but less personality.

"And speaking of names," Jensen added, finally looking at Jack, "what do we call you?"

Before Jack could answer, the cab stopped but the doors didn't open. He noticed that the floor indicator read
21
.

"Are we stuck?"

"No, merely being cleared through."

Jack checked the upper corners and spotted a mirrored hemisphere front left. Security camera. Seemed like Luther Brady didn't like drop-in company.

The cab began moving again, then stopped on twenty-two. The doors slid open onto a hallway with a gleaming parquet floor and walnut-paneled walls. Ahead a pair of doors stood open revealing a large sunny space. A young, gray-uniformed receptionist sat behind a black desk to the right.

"We're expected," Jensen said.

She nodded knowingly. "Of course. Wait here and I'll announce you."

But Jack kept going, like a moth heading for the light, ignoring calls from Jensen and the receptionist. He strolled through the doors into a high-ceilinged room clad in the same walnut paneling. He squinted in the light from the skylights and windows. To the left he noticed a pair of chromed steel doors sliding shut across a recess that contained what appeared to be a giant sphere.

A familiar-looking man rose from a huge desk by the windows. Jack knew him from TV, usually in a tape clip associated with a sound bite. But he hadn't seen that expression before: Luther Brady was furious.

"I tried to stop him, Mr. Brady," said the breathless receptionist behind him, "but he wouldn't listen."

The anger flashed out of Brady's face as quickly as it had come. He was smiling now as he came around the desk and started toward Jack.

"Quite all right, Constance," he said, dismissing her with a left-handed wave. He thrust out his right hand as he approached Jack. "Our guest, it would seem, has a rather unpredictable nature."

Constance left, shutting the door behind her. Jensen remained, standing with his feet apart, his hands clasped in front of him. Like some dark stone idol.

"I'm so sorry," Jack said. "I didn't mean to barge in. It's just that, well, the thought of meeting Luther Brady himself, in person, it… well, it just blew my manners out the window. Really, I apologize."

"Quite the contrary," Brady said. "It is I"—a quick glance at Jensen here—"
we
who should be apologizing to you for the way you were treated yesterday."

"Don't give it another thought." Jack clasped Brady's hand in both of his and gave it a hearty shake. "This is
such
an honor, sir."

Brady's supercilious expression indicated that he agreed.

"But you have me at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name but I don't know yours." He laughed. "I certainly can't call you 'Jack Farrell' now, can I."

"It's Jason… Jason Amurri."

"Jason Amurri," Brady said slowly, as if rolling an unfamiliar sound over his tongue.

You're good, Jack thought. Very good.

No doubt Brady and Jensen knew all about Jason Amurri by now, but Brady was putting on an excellent show.

Ernie's job had been to find a rich recluse in his thirties, someone who didn't get his pictures in the pages. He'd been justly proud of coming up with Jason Amurri.

Ernie had said Jason was the younger son of shipping magnate Aldo Amurri—not Onassis class, but up there—with a personal fortune somewhere in the couple-of-hundred-million neighborhood; nice neighborhood, but due to become lots nicer when he inherited Daddy's company. Unlike his older brother, Jason was anything but a jet-setter. He was a recluse who'd spent much of the past ten years on the continent, mostly in his chateau in Switzerland. As such, he was not paparazzi fodder and so there was almost no public record of what he looked like.

All perfect for Jack.

Brady was milking his act. "I must say, Jason Amurri is a rather nice name. Why would you hide it?"

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing." Jack wished he knew how to blush on demand. "I've read articles that say that, you know… that the church is only after… you know… money."

"May their xeltons never know union!" Brady's features darkened with anger. "The Dormentalist Church has so many enemies, but not one of them will confront us on the issues—whether or not our members lead better lives because of their association with the Church, or whether or not we make the world a better place with our good works. Why not? Because they know they'd lose the argument. So they attack us with innuendo, hinting this, insinuating that, knowing we can't fight back, that we can't open our records without breaking the sacred pact of trust between the Church and its members."

No doubt about it, Brady had the gift. Even Jack found himself wanting to believe him.

"In my heart I think I knew that, but I just, well…" He put on his best guilty expression and looked away. "I have some money behind me and I didn't want that to be a factor or influence anyone. I just wanted to be treated like a regular Joe."

Brady laughed and clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You will be. We all start out as regular Joes here. It's on the Fusion Ladder that the men are separated from the boys."

Jack shook his head despondently. "I don't know… that Reveille Session was so upsetting. That poor mouse…"

Brady's grip tightened on Jack's shoulder. "I realize that some of us are more sensitive than others, and since you've already had one bad experience…" He paused, looking thoughtful, then directed his gaze over Jack's shoulder. "What do you think, GP Jensen? Should I handle this myself?"

"Oh, I don't see how, sir," Jensen rumbled from behind Jack. "Your schedule is so full as it is. I don't know where you'll find the time."

Sounded as if he was reading it off a teleprompter.

"You know what?" Brady turned away from Jack and walked to the windows where he struck a wide-legged, hands-clasped-behind-the-back pose as he stared out at the city. "I'm going to
make
time."

"I don't understand," Jack said.

Brady turned and focused the full wattage of his pale blue gaze on Jack. "I am going to take you through the Reveille process myself."

Jack feigned a weak-kneed wobble. "No! I can't believe this!"

"Believe it." Brady moved closer. "With my guidance I can have you through the RC level and into an FA uniform in no time. But first you must tell me why you wish to join our Church. What do you think we can do for you that you can't do for yourself? What are your goals?"

"Well, I'd really like to become a more
effective
person. I'll be facing major responsibilities before too long and—"

"What sort oi responsibilities?" Brady made it sound like a casual conversational query.

Jack cleared his throat. "Well, uh, my brother and I will be running the family business soon." He didn't expect Brady to ask what business that was; he wasn't supposed to be interested in that sort of thing. Besides, he already knew. "It's a major responsibility and I don't know if I'm, you know, ready for it."

Did that sound ineffectual enough? He hoped he hadn't overdone it.

Brady laughed. "Well then you've come to the right place! The Dormentalist Church is all about maximizing personal potential. Once your xelton half is fused with its Hokano counterpart, the world will be yours for the taking. There will be no task too difficult, no responsibility so great that you cannot handle it with ease!"

Jack grinned. "If I can achieve only a fraction of that I'll—"

"A fraction? Nonsense! With me guiding your Reveille, we'll awaken your sleeping xelton and have you on the path to Full Fusion in no time!"

Jack forced a little laugh and shook his head. "I've got to warn you. I'm a very closed-in, uptight person. You may have your work cut out for you."

Brady's expression became serious. "You forget that you are dealing with someone who has achieved Full Fusion. There is nothing I cannot do. We will conduct your Reveille right here in my little domain where no one will disturb us. It will go quickly, I promise you."

"I hope so."

Probably the first true thing Jack had said since his arrival.

3

Luther Brady arranged to meet with Jack tomorrow morning to restart his Reveille Sessions, gave him his "personal" phone number that he could call any time, then told Jensen to show him around the temple.

Jensen acted cool about it but Jack could tell he thought he had better things to do than play tour guide tor some rich twit who wanted to be more
effectual
.

Jack made a trip to one of the rest rooms and used the break to put in a quick call to Cordova's office. Knowing he was probably being watched, he kept the conversation brief and oblique. In response to "Is he in?" the receptionist said she was expecting her boss around ten-thirty. A late-night investigation, you know.

A late-night investigation into the bottom of a beer glass at Hurley's, you mean.

Okay, that gave him about an hour.

The tour turned out to be about as interesting as a limited warranty statement. The whole damn building seemed little more than a collection of classrooms and offices. So far Jack wasn't seeing what he wanted: the place where the temple kept its membership records. He'd been thinking that if they were computerized and if he could persuade Jensen to give him his e-mail address, he could have Russ hack into the system and locate the whereabouts of Johnny Roselli.