The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [153]
"Marvelous, so looking forward. I'm sure it's an absolutely splendid facility," gushed Bendigo.
"You tell me," said Cornelius. "You'll be the first to use it."
He gestured roughly; the woman handed Rymer a stack of leaflets.
"These are the rules in The New City," said Cornelius. "Please give one to each of your people. Ask them to obey. Our rules are important to us."
"Of course, Brother Cornelius," said Bendigo.
"Reverend Day would like to invite you to be his guests at dinner tonight," said Cornelius, with a look at Jacob. "All of you." He gave a sharp look at Eileen; she glanced away.
"How absolutely splendid," said Rymer. "Please tell the Reverend we would be most honored to accept his invitation. What time would—"
"Eight."
"And where would—"
"We'll come get you," said Cornelius. "Have a glorious day."
He walked back into the crowd out of sight. Giddy with relief, Rymer handed out the fliers to the company. Cheerful volunteers came forward from the crowd to help the stagehands unload their cargo.
Eileen realized she had never seen so many people of so many different races harmoniously grouped together before.
Something was dreadfully wrong here.
Kanazuchi watched their exchange from rocks above and outside of the fence to the east of town. With the naked eye, he could not make out their words from this distance, but he could read expressions and gestures like printed characters. It told him this:
The white shirts moved as one body, like insects in a hive.
No one of the white shirts realized yet that anyone else had been on board the last wagon; the stupid actor in the loud green hat had nearly given him away until Eileen stepped forward.
The big man, the one who'd asked the questions, was dangerous. Because of this man's attention, Jacob would soon be in trouble; he could not allow anything to happen to the old man. When the moment came, Jacob would be needed; for what exactly, only time would reveal.
Kanazuchi recognized he could do nothing until nightfall, four or five hours away. Regular armed patrols moved below him on either side of the fence; he would observe them for a while to understand their patterns.
After the actors unloaded their cargo, he watched them drive the wagons to a stable on the southern side of town: The Grass Cutter was safe for now and he knew where to find it.
He turned and studied the tower he had seen in the vision. Watched the workers swarming around its base.
When darkness came, that was where he would begin.
Innes burst into the compartment, holding a telegram. "I've secured horses, maps, weapons, and supplies; they'll be waiting for us at the station in Prescott." He handed Doyle a copy of the manifest he'd drawn up. "Took the liberty of putting this together; if there's something else you think we need, there's still time to wire ahead for it."
The boy's military stripe coming to the fore, thought Doyle with no small satisfaction as he glanced at the list.
"More than adequate," said Doyle, handing it back.
"Repeating rifles; I assume you both know how to shoot," said Innes, looking around at Presto and Mary Williams.
They nodded. Presto resumed the story he was relaying to Doyle; Jack's behavior at the time of Rabbi Brachman's death.
"Are you sure the man can be trusted?" asked Presto. "He seems to have an alarming disregard for human life."
Doyle looked outside at the moonlit plains rushing past the window.
"Leave us a moment would you?" asked Doyle of the other men.
Innes and Presto exited the compartment; Doyle turned to Mary.
"You have a connection to Jack. Through the dream."
She nodded, her eyes not leaving his, steady and strong.
"I've done all I know how to do for him. My diagnosis ... offers no solutions. Do you have an idea about the reason for his illness?"
"Sometimes people are attacked by ... an outside force."
"What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "Evil."
"Do you believe evil exists? As a separate entity?"
"That is our teaching."
Doyle took a deep breath, stepping