"We're expected," Jensen said.
She nodded knowingly. "Of course. Wait here and I'll announce you."
But Jack kept going, like a moth heading for the light, ignoring calls from Jensen and the receptionist. He strolled through the doors into a high-ceilinged room clad in the same walnut paneling. He squinted in the light from the skylights and windows. To the left he noticed a pair of chromed steel doors sliding shut across a recess that contained what appeared to be a giant sphere.
A familiar-looking man rose from a huge desk by the windows. Jack knew him from TV, usually in a tape clip associated with a sound bite. But he hadn't seen that expression before: Luther Brady was furious.
"I tried to stop him, Mr. Brady," said the breathless receptionist behind him, "but he wouldn't listen."
The anger flashed out of Brady's face as quickly as it had come. He was smiling now as he came around the desk and started toward Jack.
"Quite all right, Constance," he said, dismissing her with a left-handed wave. He thrust out his right hand as he approached Jack. "Our guest, it would seem, has a rather unpredictable nature."
Constance left, shutting the door behind her. Jensen remained, standing with his feet apart, his hands clasped in front of him. Like some dark stone idol.
"I'm so sorry," Jack said. "I didn't mean to barge in. It's just that, well, the thought of meeting Luther Brady himself, in person, it… well, it just blew my manners out the window. Really, I apologize."
"Quite the contrary," Brady said. "It is I"—a quick glance at Jensen here—"we who should be apologizing to you for the way you were treated yesterday."
"Don't give it another thought." Jack clasped Brady's hand in both of his and gave it a hearty shake. "This is such an honor, sir."
Brady's supercilious expression indicated that he agreed.
"But you have me at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name but I don't know yours." He laughed. "I certainly can't call you 'Jack Farrell' now, can I."
"It's Jason… Jason Amurri."
"Jason Amurri," Brady said slowly, as if rolling an unfamiliar sound over his tongue.
You're good, Jack thought. Very good.
No doubt Brady and Jensen knew all about Jason Amurri by now, but Brady was putting on an excellent show.
Ernie's job had been to find a rich recluse in his thirties, someone who didn't get his pictures in the pages. He'd been justly proud of coming up with Jason Amurri.
Ernie had said Jason was the younger son of shipping magnate Aldo Amurri—not Onassis class, but up there—with a personal fortune somewhere in the couple-of-hundred-million neighborhood; nice neighborhood, but due to become lots nicer when he inherited Daddy's company. Unlike his older brother, Jason was anything but a jet-setter. He was a recluse who'd spent much of the past ten years on the continent, mostly in his chateau in Switzerland. As such, he was not paparazzi fodder and so there was almost no public record of what he looked like.
All perfect for Jack.
Brady was milking his act. "I must say, Jason Amurri is a rather nice name. Why would you hide it?"
"Well, it's kind of embarrassing." Jack wished he knew how to blush on demand. "I've read articles that say that, you know… that the church is only after… you know… money."
"May their xeltons never know union!" Brady's features darkened with anger. "The Dormentalist Church has so many enemies, but not one of them will confront us on the issues—whether or not our members lead better lives because of their association with the Church, or whether or not we make the world a better place with our good works. Why not? Because they know they'd lose the argument. So they attack us with innuendo, hinting this, insinuating that, knowing we can't fight back, that we can't open our records without breaking the sacred pact of trust between the Church and its members."
No doubt about it, Brady had the gift. Even Jack found himself wanting to believe him.
"In my heart I think I knew that, but I just, well…" He put on his best guilty expression and looked away. "I have some money behind me and I didn't want that to be a factor or influence anyone. I just wanted to be treated like a regular Joe."
Brady laughed and clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You will be. We all start out as regular Joes here. It's on the Fusion Ladder that the men are separated from the boys."
Jack shook his head despondently. "I don't know… that Reveille Session was so upsetting. That poor mouse…"
Brady's grip tightened on Jack's shoulder. "I realize that some of us are more sensitive than others, and since you've already had one bad experience…" He paused, looking thoughtful, then directed his gaze over Jack's shoulder. "What do you think, GP Jensen? Should I handle this myself?"
"Oh, I don't see how, sir," Jensen rumbled from behind Jack. "Your schedule is so full as it is. I don't know where you'll find the time."
Sounded as if he was reading it off a teleprompter.
"You know what?" Brady turned away from Jack and walked to the windows where he struck a wide-legged, hands-clasped-behind-the-back pose as he stared out at the city. "I'm going to make time."
"I don't understand," Jack said.
Brady turned and focused the full wattage of his pale blue gaze on Jack. "I am going to take you through the Reveille process myself."
Jack feigned a weak-kneed wobble. "No! I can't believe this!"
"Believe it." Brady moved closer. "With my guidance I can have you through the RC level and into an FA uniform in no time. But first you must tell me why you wish to join our Church. What do you think we can do for you that you can't do for yourself? What are your goals?"
"Well, I'd really like to become a more effective person. I'll be facing major responsibilities before too long and—"
"What sort oi responsibilities?" Brady made it sound like a casual conversational query.
Jack cleared his throat. "Well, uh, my brother and I will be running the family business soon." He didn't expect Brady to ask what business that was; he wasn't supposed to be interested in that sort of thing. Besides, he already knew. "It's a major responsibility and I don't know if I'm, you know, ready for it."
Did that sound ineffectual enough? He hoped he hadn't overdone it.
Brady laughed. "Well then you've come to the right place! The Dormentalist Church is all about maximizing personal potential. Once your xelton half is fused with its Hokano counterpart, the world will be yours for the taking. There will be no task too difficult, no responsibility so great that you cannot handle it with ease!"
Jack grinned. "If I can achieve only a fraction of that I'll—"
"A fraction? Nonsense! With me guiding your Reveille, we'll awaken your sleeping xelton and have you on the path to Full Fusion in no time!"
Jack forced a little laugh and shook his head. "I've got to warn you. I'm a very closed-in, uptight person. You may have your work cut out for you."
Brady's expression became serious. "You forget that you are dealing with someone who has achieved Full Fusion. There is nothing I cannot do. We will conduct your Reveille right here in my little domain where no one will disturb us. It will go quickly, I promise you."
"I hope so."
Probably the first true thing Jack had said since his arrival.
3
Luther Brady arranged to meet with Jack tomorrow morning to restart his Reveille Sessions, gave him his "personal" phone number that he could call any time, then told Jensen to show him around the temple.
Jensen acted cool about it but Jack could tell he thought he had better things to do than play tour guide tor some rich twit who wanted to be more effectual.