The List (60 page)

Sarah Jenkins opened the door. “Come in.”

“Thanks. I'm just here for a few minutes. Is A. L. around?”

“He's upstairs supervising bath time. I'll let him know you're here.”

The big man came into the dining room, drying his hands on a towel. “Well?” he asked.

“There is a meeting of the List tonight. I drove past the inn, and all of them are there, even Eicholtz. I'm supposed to go.”

“Whew. Are you sure?”

“This time I'm sure.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'll know when I get there.”

“As your attorney, I have to remind you that if LaRochette is there, your presence will violate the terms of probation, and Judge Kincaid can send you to prison.”

“I thought of that, but I have no option.”

“You've got a lot of courage, Renny.”

“I'm at peace whatever happens.”

A. L. came closer and put his big hand on Renny's shoulder. “As your friend, my spirit says do whatever the Lord has put in your heart. He will take care of the consequences.”

“Thanks. I need to go.”

“Go with God.”

35

All these things shall come upon this generation.

M
ATTHEW 23:36, KJV

R
enny parked next to the silver Mercedes, a definite violation of Judge Kincaid's order to stay away from Desmond LaRochette. Soon, there would be no doubt. A. L. was right. A face-to-face encounter with LaRochette would trigger revocation of his probation, and within a week he would be sleeping in a hot prison cell somewhere in rural South Carolina. He forced himself to concentrate on the present. Turning off the engine, he waited. He wanted to make sure everyone would be in his place.

It was dusk when he got out of his vehicle and walked to the front of the inn. A storm was churning the ocean, and a stiff breeze from the east opposed him as he faced the ancient structure. Suddenly, he heard someone call his name.

“Renny!” a wailing voice separated itself from the wind and demanded his attention.

He jerked his head around to see who had cried out. A car passed by on the street, but there was no one but himself in front of the inn or on the sidewalk. A second, stronger gust of wind rushed past him.

“Renny!” the voice came again, and with it an involuntary shudder ran down his spine. “You fool,” it added with a sneer. The voice was not without, but within.

He wavered. And when he did, a seed of fear quickly sprouted in his heart and enveloped him in darkness. What did he think he was going to do? He was blindly walking to his own execution.
Here I am, Mr. LaRochette. Finish the job you started the other night. A heart attack at age twenty-six would be a novel way to die. Good evening, Mr. Layne. Do you need someone to mock tonight? I'm your man, the one with the bull's-eye on his chest.

Yes, he was a fool. If he had a sensible bone in his body, he would leave, drive to the nearest airport, and fly to Michigan as soon as possible. He had been deceived once into thinking he could destroy the power of the List. Where had it landed him? In jail with a felony conviction. Now he was about to make an even greater blunder. After all, he was only one man. How could he be so deceived about his capabilities?

In a softer, less strident tone, the voice urged, “Your place is beside Jo. She needs you.” Of course. What could be more important than being with the woman he loved? He started to turn around.

But his legs didn't move. Trying to clear the fog that surrounded him, he shook his head and took a deep breath. He needed to sort this out.

What about the verses he'd read hours before in A. L.'s office? The call? His response? The strength and confidence that had entered his spirit? The power of the Scriptures? The affirmation from A. L.? What was real? This or that? Where did his destiny lie? What would happen if he cut and ran?

“Be safe,” the dark voice responded.

Renny closed his eyes and through clenched teeth, whispered, “Jesus.” It was all he could think to say.

At the mention of the Name, a tiny spark of light flickered to life in his heart. He watched, wishing he could cup his hands around it to protect it. Surely it would be snuffed out by the swirling darkness. But as he watched, it grew. And with each passing moment, the expanding light relentlessly drove back the fearful blackness that moments before had threatened to engulf him and cause him to flee. As the light increased, his confidence rekindled, too.

Then he felt the power of the Word push in past the barrier of his consciousness. It was different from the experience at A. L.'s office. More immediate. More present. At his core he felt a stirring, an awareness, a pressure. It built; it grew. Another shudder ran through his body. But instead of opening the door to fear, this time the involuntary movement shook off the remaining barnacles of fear. Instead of fear, faith rose in his heart. The light swelled. Resolve returned. The darkness fled.

Strength to face the future entered him, and when he commanded his legs to move forward, they obeyed. An unseen confirming hand gently rested on his shoulder, and he didn't look back. There was no turning back. He climbed the steps to the porch and opened the front door.

LaRochette called the 249th meeting of the List to order in the cozy dining room. The waiters served the meal and retired to the kitchen. Two fresh bottles of dinner wine made the rounds of empty glasses. Between mouthfuls, Weiss made a poor attempt at telling a joke, which resulted in a few forced chuckles from one end of the table. Gus Eicholtz asked Layne whether Renny was coming to the meeting. Before Layne could answer, the door opened.

When a famous or powerful person entered a room, ordinary conversation ceases once those present become aware of who is in their midst. Renny Jacobson was not famous in the eyes of men, nor did he possess power according to earthly perceptions. But he did not walk into the dining room of the Rice Planter's Inn as an inexperienced twenty-six-year-old who had been cruelly deceived by evil men, wiser and more devious than he. He stood before them robed with the delegated authority of the Judge of the universe, the One before whom every knee in heaven and on earth would bow.

Smithfield saw him first and dropped his spoon into his soup. Layne stopped in midsentence and turned pale. Weiss grunted and looked away. Eicholtz started to voice a greeting but couldn't force his lips to form the words. Total silence descended on the room.

Only LaRochette had the strength to fight through the resistance. He rose to his feet. “Renny, what a sur—”

Renny cut him off with a wave of his hand. LaRochette opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. Nothing came out, and after a moment he sat down in his chair with a thud.

Renny, his face set like flint with a strength and determination beyond voluntary control, met the eyes of everyone in the room. One by one he commanded their attention and looked into their souls. Few could bear his gaze for more than a few seconds before looking down or glancing away. Smithfield quickly found the napkin in his lap the most interesting thing within reach. Layne tried to adopt his patented smirk, but his face refused to cooperate and he nervously broke eye contact. Weiss attempted to generate a belligerent bluster but ended up flushing red in unexplainable embarrassment. Flournoy cleared his throat but didn't speak.

The evil within LaRochette cried out in rage for release when Renny's eyes met his, and the legion of reinforced dark hosts in the older man's soul revealed their presence. But all they could do was glare. Held fast in chains of darkness, they were rendered impotent in the presence of the One who lived in Renny's spirit. Only Eicholtz did not seek to challenge Renny. He nodded and bowed his head.

With the old portrait of John C. Calhoun behind him, Renny stood on the same spot where Amos Candler, his mother's great-grandfather, had pleaded with J. F. Jacobson and the other men assembled that dark Confederate night not to bind themselves in a deceptive covenant of greed. Almost 140 years later, the competing influences in his family line— Jacobson on one side, Candler on the other—reached their climax with Renny at the center of the battle. In the end, the power of God's goodness promised to a thousand generations of those who loved him reigned supreme upon the field of conflict. Renny chose the way of the Lord.

Clothed in the spiritual mantle of his Candler ancestor, Renny's authority was unquestionably established in the moments of unspoken confrontation. No longer the disenfranchised youngster, he now held the keys of dominion in time and space over the assembled group.

Then, in rapid progression, words without origin in conscious memory began forming in his understanding. He let the burden build until the full fruition of the word sown in the spiritual atmosphere over a century before by his godly ancestor came forth with the multiplied power of a whirlwind. The conflict of generations played its final card, and when Renny spoke, it was not the volume of his voice, but the irresistible intensity of the Spirit that caused heaven and earth to give way before his declaration of judgment.

Renny declared:

Upon this generation will come the triumph of Almighty God against every source of spiritual evil in heavenly places connected with this covenant. Upon this generation will come the vengeance of the Lord Jesus Christ for everything you have measured out to others in greed, violence, and murder. Upon this generation will come the full measure of retribution for the sins of all who have united with you in wickedness. The cup of God's wrath is full, and he now breaks every tentacle of your evil power and brings you to confusion and utter destruction.

Renny stopped, and the building shuddered as a strong blast of wind swept in from the sea. Once again he stared at each man to see if any wanted to dispute his proclamation. Unable to move, they sat frozen in their seats. None responded. LaRochette couldn't breathe, and his face turned bright red. The full effect of the word released, Renny turned on his heels and left the room.

Outside, it was calm. Low in the eastern sky Renny saw the first glimmer of the evening star.

As the sound of the closing door died away, LaRochette gasped for air. “It's not that easy . . . uh, to break the power of our unity.” Drawing from his internal reservoir of evil, he found renewed strength to continue. “Jacobson will go to prison for his little escapade. And he cannot revoke by a few words the covenant he made in our presence and sealed with his own blood.” Taking the List, he opened it. “See, the proof of his unity and submission to us. Right here it reads—” LaRochette stopped and paled.

“What is it, Desmond?” Roget asked.

LaRochette stepped back as Roget reached across the table, grabbed the book, and ran his finger down the page Renny had signed.

“It's gone! His name is not here!”

Gus Eicholtz jumped to his feet and jerked the book out of Roget's hands to see for himself. “What fools we've been!”

Turning back a page, he found where his name appeared and marked through it with a bold stroke of his pen. “Strike my name as well,” he said and bolted out of the room, slamming the door behind him.