"Sure thing." He squinted at the birth certificate. "D'Attilio, huh? D'Attilio the Hun, maybe?" He flashed Jack a quick, Charlie Callas grin. "For a D'Attilio we should probably enroll him in St. Aloysius." More searching. "Here it is."
He removed a high school ID from the file and clipped it to a yellow legal pad.
"Okay," he said, scribbling on the pad. "We've got John D'Attilio. D-O-B?"
Jack pointed to the birth date on the certificate. "Right there."
"Got it. Address?"
Jack gave him the address of his Hoboken mail drop.
Ernie nodded. "Yog?"
"What's that?"
Ernie raised his eyebrows and gave Jack a Do-I-have-to-spell-it-out? look. "Y-OG?"
Of course—year of graduation. It was on all school IDs.
"Let see…he's just turning sixteen, so he'll graduate two years from now."
"Got it. And I've got a nice photo to go with that name. Okay. When do you need it?"
"No hurry. Next week's okay."
"Good. Cause I'm a little backed up."
"Usual price?"
"Yeah."
"See you Monday."
Jack turned the sign, unlocked the door, and stepped back onto Tenth Avenue. He glanced at his watch. Time to check back with the hotel. He hoped the reservation desk had scrounged up a room for him. He found himself looking forward to mingling with the Society for the Exposure of Secret Organizations and Unexplained Phenomena. He'd never been an "experiencer" before.
4
Jack lucked out with a room: One of the SESOUPers had to cancel because of some family emergency, and Jack took her place.
He wound up in a fifth floor room overlooking the street. The decor was typical hotel blah: stucco ceiling, heavy duty beige wall paper, TV, dresser, and a pair of double beds, double drapes on the window, and framed nondescript prints of ponds and tree branches on the walls. But the bland surroundings didn't allay the strange uneasiness he felt every time he stepped into this building, as if the air were charged with some sort of cold energy.
He was unpacking the gym bag that held the change of clothes he'd brought from home, when he heard a knock on his door. He eyeballed the peephole, expecting to see Lew. Instead he found Olive Farina standing in the hall.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mr. Shelby?" she said as Jack pulled open the door. "May I come in? I have a question or two I'd like to ask you."
Jack hesitated, puzzled. What did she want here?
But she looked harmless enough, and he was curious to hear her question or two.
"Sure."
He stepped aside and Olive entered uncertainly, peering into the bathroom as she passed, as if expecting someone to be hiding in there.
"You're alone?"
"Last time I looked."
When she reached the center of the room, she stopped in front of the TV cabinet and turned to him. "Before we speak, will you do something for me?"
"Depends on what it is."
She lifted the silver crucifix that hung from her neck. "Will you hold this for me?"
"Hold it?"
"That's right. Just wrap your fingers around it for the count of ten."
Uh-oh, Jack thought. Loony Tunes times.
But he said okay and gripped the crucifix in his fist, firmly resisting the manic urge to scream in agony and fall writhing to the floor. Very doubtful this audience would find much humor in that.
"Good," she said after a few heartbeats. "You can let go now." She inspected Jack's open palm.
"Looking for scorch marks?" he said.
She gave him a tolerant smile. "Laugh if you will, but at least now I feel I can trust you."
Jack shrugged, thinking, if that's all it takes, you're already way too trusting. He gestured to one of the upholstered chairs by the big plate glass window.
"Have a seat." Jack turned the chair from the writing desk to face her and dropped into it. "What did you want to ask me?"
"Well," she said, adjusting her wide frame into the narrow seat, "if I understand correctly, you were the last one to speak to Melanie Ehler."
"I don't know that for sure. She could have called lots of other people."
"Yes, of course. But I want to know…when she spoke to you, did she mention anything else…did she mention the End Times?"
"No," Jack said. "I'm not familiar—"
"That must be what Melanie learned," Olive said, her voice revving up. "Because everything that's going wrong in the world is evidence of the End Times." She pointed to the night stand between the beds. "There's a Holy Bible in that drawer, and it's all recorded right there in the Book of Revelations."
"Really."
"That glowing figure you saw in the woods? That could have been an angel—the Book of Revelations mentions angels appearing to the Righteous near the End Times. Are you righteous?"
"I sure hope so."
"And that light you saw? Some will claim it was a UFO peopled with aliens. Don't believe them. UFOs are not from outer space—they're the chariots of Satan."
She was working herself up. It was almost as if she were talking to herself. Jack could only watch and listen, fascinated.
"Yes! Satan! For isn't the Dark One, after all, referred to as 'Prince of the Air?' The lights in the skies are proof that Satan is here. He and his forces are at this very moment working to hurl America into anarchy by destroying religious freedoms. That's why there's been so many church burnings recently—and don't forget Waco! But he'll also try to undermine from within by striking at us through our children! Even now his minions are teaching those innocent minds about evolution and life on other planets, trying to convince them that science proves the Bible wrong! And it's working, trust me, it's working. And what is Satan's purpose? Just before the End Times, he is going to join the USA and Canada into a single government and install the Antichrist as overall leader."
Jack listened raptly. He loved this stuff.
"Any idea who this Antichrist is?" he said when she took a breath. He could think of a few politicians who fit the description.
"No. Not yet. We'll know soon enough, though. But not all of us are going to sit around and just let this happen. The Righteous Faithful will resist to the end. The Devil is going to mark his billions of followers with a special microchip. It will run at six hundred and sixty-six megahertz—six-six-six is the Number of the Beast, you know. His followers, those who have the chip, will be able to buy food and roam free; the Righteous who refuse the chip and stay faithful to God will starve or be rounded up and put into camps."
Got to make sure I get me one of those chips, Jack thought.
"It will be a terrible time," she said, shaking her head as she wound down and her voice softened. "A terrible, terrible time."
"How did you learn all this?" Jack said.
"I told you: it's right here in the Bible, and in the papers every day!"
"Right. Of course." He knew she hadn't been born like this. He wondered when she'd gone off the deep end. And he wanted to know if she was far enough gone to make a move against Melanie Ehler. "But when did you first begin putting it all together?"
Olive leaned forward. "I can tell you the exact date I became aware of Satan's evil hand in world affairs. Up till that time I was just like everybody else, blithely going about my business, thinking everything was fine—well, I had a bad weight problem and couldn't seem to do anything about it. But I had no idea my obesity was related to Satan."
Jack couldn't resist. "The Devil made you eat?"
"Are you mocking me, Mr. Shelby? Because if—"
"Call me Jack, and no, I wasn't mocking you." Had to tread softly here. "Go on."
"All right. As I was saying, I was getting nowhere with my weight until I went to this wonderful therapist. She took one look at me and said, 'You were abused as a child—that's why you're overweight. Your mind has forced you to build up that layer of fat as symbolic insulation against further abuse.'"