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“What’s that?”

“Evolution only makes my faith stronger. Except the problem with evolution-and this is where I totally understand your objection-is emphasis on the godless randomness of natural selectivity. Like those Galapagos turtles with the longest necks were the only ones who could reach higher leaves and survive when low-hanging food was gone, so now they all have long necks. That’s true, but there’s more. Much more.”

The youths leaned with rapt attention.

“Many evolutionary scientists subscribe to an additional component of their theory. Anyone?”

“Self-organization?”

“Shazam! Anti-religious types would have you believe that the universe follows the ol’ axiom ‘Given an infinite amount of monkeys, typewriters and time, one of them will eventually write Hamlet.’ “ Serge swept an arm in the air.”Look around you. That can’t be right. It’s more like one of the monkeys is Shakespeare in a chimp suit. All life aggressively yearns to organize itself and become more complex, springing forth from every corner of the planet. You think we started with a bunch of prehistoric ooze, and some of it just happened to turn into Bella Abzug?”

They shook their heads.

“There were some dead ends along the way, hence natural selectivity. But for my money, the rest is God in a Darwin costume. So if you can wrap your brain around self-organization, then evolution is intelligent design. The Lord is even greater!… But I’m not sure.”

They got up for another pastoral visit.

“I think we’ve been wrong about evolution.”

“What on earth’s going on over there?”

“He has a lot of good points. I’ve never felt my faith so strong.”

“You’re supposed to convert him, not the other way around.”

They returned.

Serge smiled again. “Warned you about going off the reservation?”

“Eternal life is only possible through belief-”

“Glad you brought that up,” said Serge. “Let’s talk about eternal life…”

The pancake feast hit its peak hour as students felt that empty beer rumble in their tummies. The pastor stood at the entrance, welcoming waves of newcomers.

“Now everyone close your eyes,” said Serge. “This is what I want you to imagine…”

More and more students came pouring in. The pastor was smiling and shaking hands when suddenly, hysterical shrieking erupted from the far side of the hall. Everyone turned.

Serge frantically raced around the table, grabbing shoulders of uncontrollably sobbing youths. “Guys! It’s all okay! Forget everything I said!”

The pastor ran over. “What did you do to them?”

One of the tearful kids looked up. “He said many people believe in God only because of the selfish reward of eternal life…”

Another blew his nose. “So in order for our faith to be pure, we have to stop believing in God.”

“What!”

“Only temporarily-just long enough to imagine eternal darkness…”

“… Then, once we could handle that, we were free to return and believe selflessly.”

“… My belief’s never been stronger.”

Serge grinned awkwardly. “Harmless experiment. I hear they do it all the time in college philosophy classes.”

The pastor shot him a steely glare.

“Give me one more chance,” said Serge. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Chapter Seventeen

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA

Cars poured out of Gainesville in all directions, past the football stadium and brick dorms.

In one of the rooms:

“Who goes north for spring break?” asked Melvin Davenport.

“We do,” said his roommate, Cody. “It’s Panama City Beach! MTV’s there!”

“And?”

“Everybody’s going to be fucking!”

“I can see why the women love you.”

“Don’t be a jerk. We graduate next year and we’ve never been to spring break. This could be our last chance.”

“I don’t know.” Melvin sat at his desk, proofing a term paper. “You’re talking about leaving right now, and we haven’t done any planning. Did you even make reservations?”

“That’s the whole point of spring break. You don’t plan-you just go!”

“Why don’t you just go?”

“Because I need your truck.”

“Figured.”

Cody snatched the term paper.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later.”

NEW HAMPSHIRE

Snow seriously started coming down.

A Hertz Town Car headed south from campus. It avoided the interstate in favor of a looping, scenic night route through empty countryside. Last homes and streetlights miles behind. Nothing but high beams and black ice on a two-laner through white-blanketed woods.

“I don’t get it,” said Raul. “Why’d you let the kid back there live? We never leave a witness unless there’s a good reason.”

“There’s a good reason,” said Guillermo. “I need him alive for disinformation.” He punched numbers on a cell and placed it to his head. “Panama City Beach… Holiday Isles… Yes, I’d like you to connect me for a modest charge…” He let off the gas as the road took a series of hairpin twists down a small mountain. “Front desk? I’d like the room of Sam Jones, please… You don’t have a Sam Jones? Well, I think Sam’s his middle name. Probably registered under his first… No, I don’t know it. You have any Joneses at all?… Four? What first names are they under?… I understand you can’t give out that information, but this is an emergency… Okay, connect me to the room on the top of your list…”

“What are you doing?” asked Miguel.

“Shhhhh!” said Guillermo. “It’s ringing… Hello? Is Mr. Jones there?”

“Speaking.”

“Sam Jones?”

“No, you got the wrong Jones.”

“Are you sure?”

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Jones, this is room service. Someone at the pool just charged two hundred dollars of champagne on your account. As a courtesy to our guests, we always like to verify when it’s an amount that high.”

“I didn’t order any champagne! I’m not paying that!”

“You’re not Sam Jones?”

“No, Kyle. Listen, you have to-”

“Already taken care of, Mr. Jones. We’ll get hotel security right on it. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Guillermo hung up and dialed again, this time for the dorm they’d just left.

Raul looked confused. “I don’t understand-”

“Quiet!” Guillermo raised his deep voice an octave. “Hello? Is this Jason?… Jason Lavine?… This is Kyle Jones… I realize you don’t know me. I’m from Boston College-just hooked up with your friends at a rest stop… Guess they saw ‘Florida or Bust’ on our windows. Anyway, I was asked to give you a call. They’re switching hotels and wanted you to know in case you need to reach them. Something about feeding fish… Because we got a killer block of rooms super-cheap at a better place, but some of our guys dropped out, so your friends are taking up the slack… Holiday Isles in Panama City… Right, it’s in my name, Kyle Jones… Uh, sure, it’s going to be wicked excellent.” He hung up.

High beams sliced through the New Hampshire night. Two glowing dots appeared in the distance. Headlights hit a small deer on the center line. It darted into trees. The Lincoln approached a bridge over a tiny creek. Guillermo carefully applied brakes on the slick surface.

“What’s that business about switching hotels?” asked Pedro.

“Buying time with our government friends.” Guillermo opened his phone again.

Raul lowered his electric window on the passenger side and braced himself against the abrupt arctic blast.