The interior of the Temple of Tribute was a great circular room. The roof was like the inside of a crystal cone. Beams of white pine supported it, and shafts of radiant sunlight kissed the seat sections, which resembled a pie cut into four wedges. And in the center, there sat a raised dais and a podium with a microphone. Every element was either glass or white pine or birchwood.
"Let's sit up front," said Victoria Hoar, leading Remo by the hand. She had to push through the crowd to get to the first row. When she arrived, she blinked.
The Master of Sinanju, who had been behind them, was already seated.
"I saved seats for both of you," he said, beaming. He indicated a seat on his left for Victoria and a seat on his right for Remo. All the other first-row seats were occupied.
Victoria took her seat, fuming. Remo was sniffing the air.
"Incense," he said.
"Sandalwood. A terrible kind," Chiun said, wrinkling his nose.
"I don't know. It kinda reminds me of the incense they used to burn in Saint Andrews. Makes me feel kinda nostalgic."
"Is that another word for 'nauseated'?" asked Chiun. When the room had filled, there was a long pause. Organ music came in through the loudspeakers. And from behind a door curtained in white strode the Reverend Eldon Sluggard. His meaty frame was encased in a white silk suit accented by a canary-yellow tie. He stepped up to the podium to thunderous applause.
Chiun watched carefully. Never had he heard of a priest who was greeted by his faithful followers with applause. Was this some new wrinkle the American whites had added to Christianity? Perhaps there was something to be learned here after all.
"You!" shouted Reverend Eldon Sluggard. The word bounced off the accoustically perfect ceiling panes. The applause stopped dead. The echoes of the word hung in the sandalwood-laden air.
"You! You! And you! You are all sinners before God," yelled Reverend Eldon Sluggard, stabbing a fat finger at the audience.
"You are the dust beneath the feet of the truly righteous.
"You are the dirt that is consumed by the lowly worm.
"You are scum, all of you. All of you!" Reverend Eldon Sluggard's holy righteous voice resounded through the Temple of Tribute.
"Obviously he means those other than his security force," the Master of Sinanju whispered to Remo.
"Hush!" said Remo. "I want to hear this."
"All of you!" shouted Eldon Sluggard. His eyes scourged the first row.
The Master of Sinanju jumped to his feet, "Did you hear that, Remo? He has insulted my awesome personage. For that I will-"
Remo flashed to his feet. "Sit down! You want to ruin everything?"
"But he has insulted me."
"It's just his style. They call it fire and brimstone. It's traditional. "
"I call it base and insulting," said Chiun.
"Please!"
Reluctantly the Master of Sinanju returned to his seat. Reverend Eldon Sluggard continued speaking, his head held high, his voice reverberating. He had not noticed Chiun's outburst.
"You are the maggots in the roadside garbage," Reverend Sluggard went on, "Ah know that. You know it. Admit it. Don't be ashamed. Say it with me, 'Ah am a maggot.' "
"I am a maggot," chorused the crowd.
The Master of Sinanju turned around. A sea of wrinkled, ailing faces held rapt expressions. Their mouths repeated the insane insults of the Reverend Eldon Sluggard.
"That's the bad news," said Reverend Sluggard. "But the good news is that you're no ordinary maggots. No! You're God's maggots."
"Hallelujah!" returned the crowd.
The Master of Sinanju blinked. What manner of madness was this?
"The Lord's holy maggots," howled Reverend Sluggard. "You may be squirmin' in the garbage now, but come judgment Day, you're a-gonna sprout wings and fly. "
"Praise be!"
"But God ain't gonna give you them wings until you've proved your love for him. Until you give tribute to him. Now, Ah know you're in need. Only the needy come to me. Can't pay those bills? Tell you what you do. Instead of scrimpin' a few more weeks to get enough money to pay the rent, give me that money. That's right! Give it to the Reverend Sluggard. Ah'm gonna invest it for you. And what am Ah gonna invest it in? Not in the stock market. Not in CD's. No, Ah'm gonna invest it in God. And God is gonna pay you back, yes sirree. You know that even if you scrape up your rent money, it's only gonna come due next month and you're gonna have to scrimp and save and pinch pennies all over again. But if you have faith, God's gonna give you a return on your investment. And Ah don't mean ten percent. No, Ah mean a thousand percent. You'll never have to scrimp and save again."
"Glory!"
"Now, maybe some of you say, 'Reverend Sluggard, my problem's got nothin' to do with money. Well, good for you, Ah say. Maybe it's health. Maybe you got a bad back or lumbago, or dropsy, or some such ailment. Well, you know that ain't your fault, any more than bein' poor is. It's the work of Satan! Admit it!"
"Amen!"
"Satan's put a curse on you! He's sapped your strength. He's poisoned your blood. Well, Ah got a cure for that too. And it's called faith. What's that, you say? Ah can hear your thoughts. The Lord lets me see into your minds, Ah'm so full of the Holy Spirit tonight. You say you don't have enough faith? Well, you don't have to. Because Ah got the faith. Yea, let mah faith show you the way. Now, later on Ah'm gonna come among you and start layin' hands on some of you. Do you have cancer? Ah'm gonna cure you. Do you have emphysema? Well, get ready to breathe free again!"
"This is the thrilling part," Victoria whispered.
"I've heard of faith healing," said Remo.
"And I have heard of charlatanry," snapped Chiun.
"But first," said Reverend Sluggard, "my acolytes are gonna come among you. They have envelopes. You know what they're for. They have credit-card slips and those little ka-chunka charge machines. Don't worry if you don't know how to work them. That's what my acolytes are here for."
Out of the curtained door came a handful of men and women in white garments. The men wore white suits with white shoes and ties. The women were in demure white dresses. The way the men dressed reminded Remo of his First Communion suit.
They went among the crowd. The women passed out the envelopes at one end of each wedge of seats. The men collected them after they were passed, crammed full of cash, to the other ends. Those who chose to pay by credit card were invited into the aisles, where little folding tables were set up. Credit-card machines went chunka-thunk so regularly, it was as if a million engines were at work at some relentless task.
Chiun's narrow eyes widened. Tribute. This priest was exacting tribute from his followers. He wondered what Remo had to say about this. But when he looked, Remo was watching the Reverend Eldon Sluggard with fascinated eyes.
The Reverend Sluggard was reading from the Bible. "Let me share with you this verse from Last Corinthians," he was saying. " 'He who shares his bounty with me, no matter how poor, will receive my blessin'. He who gives his last shekel to mah followers will receive plenty in return.' Amen."
"Amazing," said Remo. "He only glanced at that page. He must know the entire book by heart."
"Why not?" said Chiun. "He knows every other trick in the book."
"What's that, Little Father?" Remo asked, turning.
"Never mind. I do not converse with the deaf and blind."
When the collection of money stopped, Reverend Sluggard descended from the podium.