Already fanatics were talking about a national petition to the president asking him to resign in favor of Borden Means. In the papers the births were listed. Little girls named Bordeen and Borda and Bordette. Thousands of little boys named Borden Means Smith, Borden Means Cohen, Borden Means Levandowski, Borden Means Vanderkamp, Borden Means Mulligan. Unsolicited funds were pouring into the Means’ coffers. The thing was like a gigantic wave that starts far out near the horizon. At first it was just a rounded swelling against the flat sea. Then it began to arc up, moving faster. Now Jeff knew, it had begun to near the shore. Soon the actual crest would appear. The wave would tower higher and higher...
Deep in thought he blundered against a girl who had come out of a shop doorway. He trod heavily on her foot. He saw her wince with pain.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said.
He saw the green pin on her blouse. Though tears of pain stood in her eyes, she gave him a crooked smile and said, “Borden Means.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Don’t you know? Whenever you’re angry or upset or want to snap somebody’s head off, you just say His name. It’s better than counting to ten. Much better. You know that He wouldn’t ever let himself be angry.” In her eyes there was a deep and fervent glow.
“I think he’s a phoney,” Jeff said.
Her eyes narrowed with quick anger and then softened again. “If you really think that, mister, why don’t you go out and talk to him? Then you’ll believe, too. And you’ll be happier. Much, much happier.”
“Don’t you feel a little silly, worshiping a man?”
“No, it isn’t worship, mister. It’s something else. He doesn’t take the place of my church or my God. He just seems to make me a better person so that I can begin to get some real benefit out of my religion.”
The girl walked on. She had a slight limp which began to correct itself as she walked. Jeff stood and watched her. He said, “Why not? I’ll see what Means says.”
Chapter Three
The Citadel
The main building was of tan stone. It was huge. The narrow windows showed that it was only two stories high. Though the high stone fence encircling the main building and the outbuildings was topped with broken glass and what appeared to be electrified wire, the main gate was unguarded. Jeff drove the small rented sedan through the gates and parked in a lot that contained over twenty other cars. He recognized the long powerful car which Means used, riding in back behind a uniformed chauffeur. You had to give the man that much. He didn’t make any secret of his wealth.
As he entered the huge baronial hallway he heard the busy clacking of office equipment. There was no guard in the hall. He stepped to the doorway of what had apparently been an enormous dining room. There were black carved beams overhead. A dozen girls sat before key punches making cards from the stacked letters before each one of them. An office boy was gathering up the punched cards and taking them to the tabulator operators and to the sorters. Facing the key punch operators was a long row of secretarial desks. There was a girl at each desk, typing busily, referring to the letters which had been indexed by the key punch operators.
So Means was organized effectively, Jeff decided. On his three last broadcasts he had made an appeal for letters from all those who believed in him. The stack of mail sacks, ten feet square, in the corner of the room was ample evidence of that. By feeding the letters through an IBM setup, Means was making himself a list of all his supporters. With that list he would have a most effective direct mailing listing.
A cultured voice at Jeff’s elbow said, “Can I help you, sir?”
He turned quickly. The girl was very fair, with eyes of an odd shade of aqua. “Why, I think so. I’d like to talk to Means.”
“There are so many demands on his time. Are you representing anyone?”
“My name is Jeffrey Rayden. If you could tell him that...”
“Oh, of course. Mr. Means is expecting you.”
“Huh! Are you quite certain of that?”
The girl smiled. “He’s been expecting you for several days, I believe.” She turned and smiled back over her shoulder. “Please follow me, Mr. Rayden.”
He was so numbed by surprise that he walked behind her like an automaton, almost oblivious to his surroundings. The semi-trance faded as the girl, still smiling, stepped aside and indicated a closed door.
Jeff knocked at the door. Means’ voice was remote, but clear. “Come right in, Jeff.”
He turned the knob and walked in. The room was not large. It was not as luxurious as the study in the San Ramon apartment, but it was on the same order.
Means came to meet him and clasped Jeff’s unwilling hand in both of his. “Come and sit down and get it all off your chest, my son.”
Jeff kept his eyes away from Borden Means so as to give him time to collect his thoughts. He lit a cigarette, leaned back in the deep leather chair, and said, “To put it all into one sentence, Means, I just want to tell you I’m convinced that you’re very cleverly covering up your past history, and that past history is more than a bit unsavory.”
Means gave him a puzzled frown. “Unsavory? I fail to remember any shameful act in my past, Jeff. I’ve done some silly things, some foolish things. Every man has. I’ve hurt people through a lack of sufficient understanding, I may hurt people in the same way in the future. The word unsavory does seem a bit stiff, though.”
Jeff leaned forward. “Remember the time you promised Ike Looder sixty a month and then paid him forty at the end of the roundup season?”
“Ike Looder! You know, Jeff, I’d almost forgotten him! Old Ike. Now there’s an oversight. Is he still alive? Good! You see, I’ve probably hurt him without meaning to, merely by forgetting him. I remember that year well. Ike was helping. We had a bad year. I wanted to give him his full pay and a bonus, but he knew how things were. He wouldn’t take over forty a month. When I brought in my first well I sent Ike the back pay plus a thousand dollar bonus. I’ve still got the letter he wrote, thanking me.”
“And that letter is just as valid as the newspaper files in San Ramon, I suppose.”
“I wish I could cure that basic bitterness within you, Jeff. If you give me half a chance I think I can.”
“Now let’s see you worm out of the Harry Lamke incident.”
Means threw back his massive head and laughed. His laughter had the clear ring of a boy’s merriment. “Poor Harry! He’s worked harder all his life on get-rich-quick schemes than he would have on honest living. Did you see him when you came in?”
“See him?”
“Yes. I suppose I’m something of a sucker, Jeff. I hired him to work around the place.”
Jeff flipped his cigarette into the fireplace. He shut his eyes for a moment. “Why can’t we stop sparring, Means? There are no witnesses here. You are a bluff and a phoney, and just to make you more dangerous, you’ve got a couple of special talents that I don’t understand. Did you think I wouldn’t find out that no such place as Dos Almas exists? And those memories you’ve been tampering with. It’s all cut out of the same cloth. What do you want? What are you after?”
Means gave him a puzzled smile. “But I told you that before. On our ride to San Ramon from... Dos Almas. I want a better world. A thousand years ago a man with that wish would have to go into the countryside. In all his lifetime he might speak to one million people. Now better tools are available. I have enough money to use those tools. I have trained myself. I speak nine tongues fluently. Nine important tongues. English, of course, plus Russian, Chinese, Hindustani, German, Italian, Spanish, French and Arabic. At this moment, through recordings, I am speaking to tens of millions all over the world.”