Spellbinder Page 6

  “I will pray for you, Preacher,” she said.

  He put down the telephone. A moment later it rang and the operator came on. “That will be ninety-five cents additional, please.”

  Thoughtfully he placed the coins in the slot and listened to them tinkle their way down into the box. “Thank you,” the operator said. He placed the receiver back on the hook and made his way slowly back to the pickup.

  ***

  He stretched the black slacks neatly out on the bed, then folded the black turtleneck sweater and black knitted ski mask and flattened them out on the slacks. Quickly he rolled them into a small tight bundle and fastened it with a thin black leather belt, then put it into a brown paper bag. He left the cottage, threw the paper bag into the front seat of the pickup, then walked down to the meeting place.

  Tarz, Charlie and about six others were seated at the long table, opening the envelopes from the morning mail, dividing them into three stacks. One stack was for the letters containing contributions, which would get the special deluxe brochure in reply. The second was made up of information requests, which would get the mimeographed stapled information sheets. The third and last consisted of antagonistic messages. They would be answered by a form letter which asked them not to hate but to show true Christian mercy and seek counsel and forgiveness in the teachings of the Bible and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

  Tarz looked up as he came in. His voice was filled with satisfaction. “We’ve collected about a hundred and ten dollars in the mail between yesterday and today. That’s pretty good.”

  Preacher nodded. “What about recruits?”

  “Hard to tell,” Tarz said. “But we have about two or three possibilities that I think are pretty good. I’ll see to it that they get a special invitation to come down here and spend a weekend as our guests.”

  “Good. That’s more important than the money. One soul brought to the Lord is worth more than all the riches in the world.”

  “Amen,” Tarz intoned.

  Preacher gestured and Tarz got out of his seat and followed him into the small room at the back of the meeting hall. Preacher closed the door behind them and turned to face him. “I’m going back up to Frisco this afternoon,” he said. “I’ll be there all day tomorrow and should be back early the next morning.”

  “Going to see Brother Robert after all?” Tarz asked eagerly.

  Preacher glanced at him. Tarz sounded almost too eager. “No,” he answered shortly. “This is personal business. Besides, you heard me. I’ve already given them my answer.”

  “They’re goin’ to make trouble,” Tarz said.

  “There’s nothing they can do, we’re clean.”

  “I don’t mean that,” Tarz said. “You know how the Sons of God operates. They’ll come down here, a whole bunch of them, and scare everybody with hell and damnation because when the big bang comes we’ve all been committing the sin of fornication.”

  “If God didn’t intend for us to love one another He wouldn’t have made our bodies with the machinery to do it,” Preacher said. “Just make sure that if they do show up when I’m not here, they don’t get a chance to drop any acid on the children. That could get them crazy enough to do anything.”

  “What if they bring their whips and cats?” Tarz asked. “You know how they like to lay them on the girls. They’re pretty rough and there aren’t enough of us men here to stop them.”

  Preacher looked at him. “You sound scared.”

  “I am scared,” Tarz admitted. “Don’t forget I spent a year with them. I know what they can do.”

  Preacher thought for a moment. “Then the minute they show up, call the police on your C.B. radio. They’ll take care of them for you.”

  “The children won’t like that. Most of them hate the cops too.”

  “They’ll like it better than getting beat up,” Preacher said. He took a deep breath. “But I won’t be gone long. Chances are they won’t be coming back before I do. That is, if they do come back at all.”

  “They’ll come back all right,” Tarz said darkly.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Brother Ely said that Brother Robert won’t take too kindly to the way you beat up on Brother Samuel. He said they’ll come back.”

  “Could be,” Preacher nodded. “But you know what to do. Just do like I said and there’ll be no trouble.”

  “Yes, Preacher,” Tarz said.

  “How much money do we have in the cash box?” Preacher asked, changing the subject.

  “I don’t know,” Tarz answered cautiously. “How much do you need?”

  Preacher smiled. Tarz was real cautious with the money. Everybody knew he was a skinflint. “Five hundred,” he said. Then seeing the dismay on Tarz’s face, he quickly added, “But like I said, it’s personal. I’ll give you my check for the money.”

  Tarz smiled. “Well, in that case, I think I can scrounge it up for you.”

  Chapter Nine

  He found an open parking meter in front of the warehouse that served as the maintenance building for the elevator company at a quarter to five that afternoon. He got out of the pickup, put a dime in the meter, his eyes scanning the crowd just beginning to leave work for the day. It only took a moment for him to find what he sought.

  He stepped quickly through the crowd and tapped a young Chinese on the shoulder. The young man, dressed in faded blue work jacket and Levi’s, turned toward him. “Yes?” he asked, his narrowed eyes sizing up Preacher in a glance.

  Preacher held the twenty-dollar bill folded in his hand so that the young man could read the number on it. “I need a favor.”

  “No dope,” the young man said quickly.

  Preacher smiled. “No dope.”

  “You a cop?”

  Preacher shook his head. “Not a cop. I just want you to go in that building and pick up a key for me.”

  “If that’s all why don’t you go and get it yourself?”

  “Because my eyes don’t slant like yours,” Preacher said. “It’s the key to my girl’s place and her old man’s got her locked in her house. But he won’t be there tonight and I can get her out if I have a key.”

  The young Chinese grinned. “The old man don’t like the shape of your eyes, huh?”

  “Something like that,” Preacher nodded.

  “Sure it’s nothing illegal?”

  “Straight and cool, man. It’s nothing but romance. Love crosses all boundaries.”

  “I know what you mean. A lot of the old folks are like that. You should hear my mother when I date a chick that ain’t Chinese. Like three blocks away you can hear her.”

  “Then it’s okay?”

  The young man nodded. “Just tell me what I got to do.”

  “It’s simple,” Preacher said. He took a slip of paper from his pocket. “Just go to the customer’s service desk and tell them you came to pick up the key for Miss Soong and show them this paper with the number on it. When they give it to you check the number on the key with the paper and if it’s okay bring it out to me.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “Leave it and tell them you’ll be back in the morning, then come out and give me back the paper. You’ll get the twenty either way.”

  “What makes you think they’ll have it?” the young man asked. “Those keys have to be made up.”

  “I called earlier. They said it would be ready by four. It’s almost five now.”

  He watched the young man walk into the building, then went back to the pickup and, leaning against the side panel, lit a cigarette. He had just finished the cigarette when the young man came out, grinning.

  Preacher straightened up. “You got it?”

  The Chinese nodded. “I got it. No sweat. They even asked me ‘cash or charge?’ I told them ‘charge,’ of course.”

  Preacher smiled. “Good thinking.”

  “I figured it’d be even more fun to stick the old man with the bill,” the young Chinese said. He gave the envelope to Preache
r.

  Preacher took out the key and checked it. The number was the same as on the slip of paper. He handed the twenty to the young man. “Thanks, buddy.”

  “Thank you.” The Chinese stuck the twenty-dollar bill in his pocket. “Good luck. Hope everything goes all right.” He went back into the crowd and Preacher watched him until he had turned the corner and was out of sight before he got back into the pickup and drove off.

  ***

  An hour later he drove off the bridge on the Oakland side, made a sharp turn, went down almost to the bay front and stopped the pickup in front of an old gray house on a tired and beat-up street. He locked the cab and went up the steps and rang the doorbell.

  The door opened a little and a tall black man peered from the crack, the light from the hall shining behind him. “Yeah?”

  “Ali Elijah,” Preacher said.

  “Who wants him?” the man growled in a heavy voice.

  “Just tell him Preacher is here.”

  The man nodded and closed the door without speaking. Preacher stood there waiting. A few minutes later the man came back and opened the door. “Follow me,” he said in a heavy expressionless voice.

  Preacher stepped into the narrow hallway and waited until the man had locked the door and fastened it with a bolt and chain, then followed him up a narrow flight of stairs into another narrow hallway. The man stopped in front of a heavy steel door at the far end of the hall.

  He looked at Preacher. “Hol’ up your hands,” he said. Preacher raised his hands over his head and quickly the man patted him down. Satisfied that Preacher was clean, he nodded. “You kin go in.”

  He made no move to open the door and stepped behind Preacher, who turned the knob and opened the door. The room was a fairly large one and whatever windows had once been there were all covered with brick. Light came from an old-fashioned chandelier overhead, the bulbs covered with red cloth shades. A desk was against the far wall and in the slight shadow behind it sat the man Preacher had asked for, a curious expression on his face, neither friendly nor unfriendly, just curious.

  “Been a long time, Preacher,” he said.

  “Four years,” Preacher said.

  “You don’t change,” Ali Elijah said.

  “I’ve changed,” Preacher answered. “We all have.”

  “True,” Ali Elijah said. “I have found Allah. Allah is Allah and Mohammed is His Prophet.”

  “We all seek God in our own way,” Preacher said. “I have found Him in mine. I rejoice that you have found Him in your own.”

  Ali Elijah stared at him. “Four years. You haven’t changed. You have not come seeking Allah. Why have you come?”

  Preacher glanced back over his shoulder. The man who had brought him up was still standing in the open doorway. He turned back to Elijah. “I have your marker,” he said, taking a small cloth bag from his pocket. He pulled the small string and emptied its contents on the desk.

  Elijah looked down at the three spent and flattened bullets on the desk in front of him. He raised his hand, dismissing the man in the doorway. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that he raised his eyes to Preacher. “I was in another life then. That man was Joe Washington.”

  “The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. You are still here, praise the Lord,” Preacher said.

  “Thanks be to Allah the Merciful,” Elijah said. He picked up the flattened bullets and held them in his hand. He looked at Preacher. “They’re so small. I still can’t believe how much they hurt when you got them out of me. They felt like cannonballs.”

  Preacher was silent.

  “What is it you want from me?”

  “I need help,” Preacher said.

  Ali Elijah smiled for the first time. “That’s a switch. Here we are hidin’ out, the whole world after our ass, no money even to buy food for our kids, and you the one who needs help.”

  Preacher put his hand in his pocket and brought out six fifty-dollar bills. He spread them on the desk. “Whether you can help me or not, that money’s for the kids. They don’t deserve to suffer for our sins.”

  Elijah looked down at the money then up at Preacher. His voice was soft. “I was right. You haven’t changed.” Abruptly, he picked up a fifty-dollar bill and went to open the door. He handed the money to the man waiting outside the door. “Give this to Rebecca and tell her to go down to the all-night market and stock up on some food. Tell her to take the oldest boy with her to carry.”

  He closed the door and came back to Preacher. “How’d you know where to find us?”

  “I just looked in my book,” Preacher said. “When you were hurt, you had me write a letter to your mother. This was her address. I didn’t know whether you’d be here but I figured this was as good a place to start as any.”

  Elijah went behind the desk and sat down again. He gestured to a chair and Preacher sat down. “What kind of help do you need?”

  “Four non-lethal heavy smoke grenades with red magnesium flares that will look like real fire. One plastic cracker with a ten-second detonator, strong enough to blow out a double-hinged steel store door, and a silk rope ladder long enough to drop from a third-floor window.”

  Elijah stared at him. “That’s a heavy order. That kind of equipment ain’t just layin’ around. The whole thing has got to be put together.”

  “I know that,” Preacher said. “But I remember in your other life you were a staff sergeant in the demolition engineers. I figure you’d know how to do it if anybody would.”

  “When would you need it?”

  “Tomorrow,” Preacher said.

  Elijah shook his head. “That ain’t much time.”

  “That’s all I have,” Preacher said.

  “We’ll need some extra to get the material.”

  Preacher took out another hundred dollars. “That should take care of it.”

  Elijah looked at him. “It must be real important.”

  “It is,” Preacher said.

  Elijah was silent for a moment. “You ain’t goin’ to be able to handle all this by yourself. You’re nuthin’ but an amateur. You’ll wind up blowing yourself to pieces.”

  “You show me. I learn fast.”

  “Nobody learns that fast,” Ali Elijah said. “I better go along with you.”

  “This is my baby,” Preacher said. “You have enough troubles of your own. You don’t need any extra.”

  “I’m not askin’.” The black man laughed. “I guess I haven’t changed as much as I thought. I remember back in ’Nam I was always volunteerin’.”

  “I remember,” Preacher said.

  “Besides, I ain’t been out of this house for two months,” he said. “Time I got a little fresh air.”

  “No way,” Preacher said. “You have too many people depending on you.”

  Ali Elijah picked up the three spent bullets. “I’m not leavin’ any markers this time. I’m pickin’ up all of them. If Allah, praised be His Name, has seen fit to guide you to our door, then it would be sinful for us to allow you to go into danger alone.”

  Chapter Ten

  There were two cars in front of the old gray building under the bridge when Preacher turned the corner with his pickup at eleven o’clock the next evening. Cautiously he drove past the house and around the block before he stopped. He got out and walked back to the corner and started toward the house. Before he reached it, the door opened and several men came out, each carrying small boxes and suitcases. Behind them two women, also carrying bags, came down the steps. He watched them loading the trunks and back seats of the cars. One of the men went up the steps and into the building.

  A moment later he came out again with another valise. Following him was a woman with a child in her arms and behind her several other children. They had already entered the two automobiles when Ali Elijah came down the steps, a small boy in his arms, and went to the first car. He opened the door and gave the child to the woman in the front seat while the man started the engine.

  Elijah spoke to
the woman for a moment. She nodded and he kissed her, then stepped back, closing the door. A moment later the two cars pulled away from the curb and he stood there for a moment looking after them. He lifted his arm in a half-wave just as the cars reached the corner and disappeared, then started back up the steps to the front door.

  He glanced down the street once more before opening the door and saw Preacher walking toward him. He waited until Preacher came up the steps. “You’re early,” he said in an expressionless voice.

  Preacher nodded silently. He followed him into the house and waited until the door was locked behind them. It was not like last night. There was a sudden and strange emptiness about the house as if all life had gone from it. Still silent, he followed Ali Elijah up the stairs to his room and stood there as Elijah walked behind the desk. “Is there anything wrong?”

  Elijah looked at him. He started to speak but choked up. He shook his head.

  Preacher took a package of cigarettes from his pocket. He held it out to Elijah, who took one with slightly trembling fingers. Preacher took one, then struck a match and held it for him. He waited until Elijah had his lit before he spoke. “You can talk to me,” he said gently. “I’m still your friend.”

  Ali Elijah sank into his chair and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I got to thinkin’ after you left last night. You found us first crack out of the box. How long would it be before somebody else remembered the same thing?”

  Preacher didn’t answer.

  “And here we are sittin’ with a houseful of women and kids and the next thing you know the house is full of pigs shootin’ their guns and swingin’ their clubs and some of them is sure to get hurt. It didn’t make sense.”

  Preacher dragged on his cigarette, still without speaking.

  “Where did I get the right to let them in for that kind of shit? They had nothin’ to do with what went down. So I took the rest of the money you gave me and I sent ’em on down to South Carolina where my woman’s family is at. They’ll be okay there.”

  “Where does that leave you?” Preacher asked.

  He met Preacher’s eyes. “I can always manage. I thought after we finish our little job tonight, I’d move on down to L.A.; maybe the brothers there can make a little room for me.” A wry smile came to his mouth. “I hear Ron Karenga’s become a big TV star down there and is pullin’ down good bread appearin’ on all them talk shows. Or maybe go to New York. The Panthers is raisin’ big money on the Jew cocktail-party circuit. Maybe they’d come up with some real heavy bread to see a genuine bad-ass nigger.”