Conspiracies

Jack's sense of derisive amusement with Olive melted away in the face of her genuine anguish. Her fears were whacked out, but the deeply troubled woman before him was real, and she was hurting. He would have liked a few minutes with the so-called therapist who got her started down this road.

"Sure, Olive," he said softly. "If I hear from her again, that's the first thing I'll ask her."

"Thank you," she said, brightening. "Oh, thank you. And tell her I've still got the disks." Her eyes widened and her hand darted to her mouth.

"What disks?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "It was nothing. Forget I said that."

Jack remembered the empty "GUT" folder in Melanie's computer.

"Computer disks, Olive?" he said, improvising. "Melanie told me she had large computer files on her Grand Unification Theory. She said she made copies for safekeeping and that she was giving them to someone she trusted." He was stabbing in the dark here. "Was that someone you?"

"Her theory? All her work?" Olive sat frozen, staring at Jack. "She told you?"

Jack nodded. "You've got them in a safe place, I hope."

"Yes, but I don't know anything about computers, so I have no idea what's on them. And I was wondering why she didn't give them to Lew. Do you think she doesn't trust him?"

Good question. Why hadn't she given them to her husband?

"I can't say, Olive. I never met her, and I've only known Lew since Tuesday."

"Melanie and I are very close. She's such a good, warm person. She'll always listen to me, always comfort me. She never has a bad word to say about anyone. She's been like a sister to me."

That didn't jibe with Lew's description of a woman with few friends or social contacts.

"If something's happened to her ... " Olive sniffed and blinked back tears.

"You know," Jack said slowly, cautiously, "I know a little about computers. Maybe I could help you get into those disks and—"

Olive was shaking her head. "No." Her eyes narrowed. "Why should you care about what's on those disks?"

"Well," Jack said, improvising again—this was one suspicious lady. "Melanie seemed to know about my, um, experience. I want to know how. Those disks might give us a clue as to—"

"No-no!" she said, her voice rising. "No one can see them! I promised!"

"Okay," Jack said, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. He didn't want her getting worked up again. "Good for you. You have to honor Melanie's trust. Does anyone else know about the disks?"

She shook her head. "Not another soul ... until now."

"Good. We'll keep it that way. I won't mention it to anyone, not even Lew."

She wiped her eyes and composed herself, then rose to her feet.

"Thank you. You're a good man. And I'm sorry I made such a scene. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's just that I seem to cry so easily lately. Maybe it's because something inside me senses the End Times coming. Do you think that could be it?"

"I couldn't say, Olive. But I'll bet they're still a long ways off."

"Let's hope so—for both our sakes."

"What do you mean?"

She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Get yourself a check-up, Mr. Shelby."

"Me? Why?"

"Those missing hours after you saw the light and the figure—they might have planted one of the 666 chips in you. Get a thorough examination by a doctor you trust. Soon."

Jack led her toward the door. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea. Thanks for the advice."

"And watch out for Jim Zaleski."

"Who?"

"One of our more prominent members."

Jack remembered the name now—Lew had called him a "ufologist."

"I don't know why he was ever allowed in this organization. He's so foul mouthed. He cannot seem to speak a single sentence without blaspheming or taking the name of the Lord in vain."

"I don't see how—"

"And he has a temper nearly as terrible as his tongue. I'm just hoping that Melanie didn't come to him with some information that upset him, because there's no telling what he might do."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And the other one to watch out for is Professor Roma himself."

"I've already had a run-in with him."

"I heard. That's why I thought I could trust you ... because I don't trust him. At least not yet. He could be an ally, or he could be in league with the devil."

"Why do you say that?" Jack remembered his instant dislike of the man.

"That monkey ... I've seen him talking to it."

"Well, everybody talks to their pets now and again."

"Yes, but I've seen it answering him, whispering in his ear. I even overheard it once."

A chill shot through Jack. The way that monkey had glared at him earlier, with almost human hatred ...

"What did it say?"

"I don't know ... it was speaking a language unlike any I've ever heard, almost like ... " She glanced at him. "Have you ever heard anyone speaking in tongues?"

"Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"Well, I have. And many times the Spirit has taken me over and I've spoken myself. That's what it sounded like to me—Speaking in Tongues."

"You could be mistaken."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I could be. But what if that monkey is some sort of familiar? That would tell us which side he's on, wouldn't it." Her eyes narrowed again. "That's why I'm watching him ... watching him whenever I can. I'll find out the truth about Professor Salvatore Roma."

Jack opened the door and ushered her into the hall. Movement to his left caught his eye and he turned in time to see a man in a hat and a dark suit moving quickly down the hall and ducking out of sight into the elevator alcove. He had a sense that he'd been standing outside the door a few seconds ago.

Listening? he wondered. Somebody watching me? Or watching Olive? Or just somebody heading for the elevator?

He considered heading down to the alcove to get a better look at the guy, but dropped the idea when he heard the elevator bell ring. He'd never make it in time.

He turned back to Olive. "If you learn anything about You-know-who, be sure to let me know."

"I will. And remember," she said, a fearful need growing in her eyes. "If Melanie calls again—"

"I'll ask her. I promise I'll ask her."

"Bless you. I'm in 812. Call me as soon as you have any news, no matter how late the hour."

Jack closed the door and sighed with a mixture of relief and pity. One very disturbed woman. At least he hoped she was. None of that could possibly be true, could it?

Nah. Jack figured he didn't know much about the End Times, but he did know a lady who should probably be on some heavy-duty medication while she was waiting for them.

5

Jack sat with Lew during Professor Roma's welcoming address. He was less interested in the words—some mishmash about "confluence of ideas" and "spreading the Truth" and "ripping the cover off' and so on—than, in the man.

Roma—sans monkey—wore a very dapper light gray Armani suit with a black collarless shirt buttoned to the top, giving him the appearance of a very rich and hip minister. Much as Jack hated to admit it, the guy was a mesmerizing speaker. He prowled the little stage with a cordless mike, gesturing dramatically, speaking without notes. Sincerity and dedication fired his every word. Here was a man with a mission.

The biographical sketch in the rear of the program book said he was a native of South Carolina and now a professor of anthropology at Northern Kentucky University.

Jack wondered how a college professor afforded Armani suits. Maybe he did a lot of public speaking, because he seemed to have a gift. He'd seized this audience of about three hundred. They listened in rapt attention, breaking into applause every time he paused. The crowd itself surprised Jack. The SESOUPers were older than he'd expected. The average age had to be forty-plus. Lots of gray heads in the audience, which was pretty evenly divided between the sexes, but almost exclusively white—he'd seen only one black face since he'd entered.