44
The Reverend Fulton Cooper was shorter than Shepherd had expected but he displaced the air like a much larger man. He was standing in the middle of a large room that had been converted into a TV studio, talking to a tall reed of a man clutching a clipboard and wearing headphones. The studio was basic, just three cameras on wheeled tripods with wireless transmitters plugged in the back feeding a signal directly into a large iMac in the corner. Including the laptops the telephone operators were using there was maybe less than twenty thousand dollars’ worth of technology on display. No wonder the reverend could afford to base his church in a million-dollar mansion. He was broadcasting to the world with a miniscule overhead and no taxes to pay.
“Gentlemen.” Cooper finally turned his attention to them, all smiles and open arms. “My apologies for the wait. As you can see I am rather busy, but I am more than happy to be of assistance if I can.” He stayed where he was, inviting them to come to him, establishing the power structure.
Franklin didn’t move. “And we surely appreciate that,” he said. “Is there maybe somewhere more private we could talk?”
Cooper’s smile widened. “I have nothing to hide from any of these people; we can talk about anything right here in this room.”
“All right,” Franklin said. “How’s your catching?”
The smile slipped a little. “I don’t get your meaning?”
“Your catching,” Franklin repeated, then his arm shot forward, sending something arcing through the air. Cooper took a step back, his smooth veneer further ruffled by the unexpected move and swatted the object away with his left hand, sending a plastic key ring skittering across the floor of the studio.
“You’ll never make the team catching like that,” Franklin said, finally taking a step forward. “Did you know only around ten percent of the population are left-handed? Also most people use the same hand to do everything, like throw, catch — write threatening postcards to NASA.”
The smile returned but it didn’t quite make it to Reverend Cooper’s eyes. “Take twenty minutes, everyone,” he announced to the room. “Gregory, can you run infomercials on a loop until I’m finished with these gentlemen?” He turned back to them. “Why don’t we sit down.” He gestured toward two sofas in the middle of the studio arranged around a low table with a laptop on it. “Miss Boerman, if you would be so kind as to bring us a large pot of coffee.”
“Coffee!” Franklin said. “Now there’s an idea.”
They settled in the sofas and sat in silence while the room emptied, Cooper busying himself with his cell phone in a way that suggested whatever was on his phone was far more important and deserving of his attention than they were. Shepherd didn’t mind. It gave him the chance to study him up close; he found him vaguely fascinating. His head seemed too big for his compact body and every facial gesture seemed amplified. He also hummed with a restless energy that combined with his carefully combed silver hair and expensive color-matched suit to make him come across like a high-powered corporate executive or a senator with his eye on higher office.
“If you could switch your phone to silent and leave it on the table while we talk,” Franklin said, “I would appreciate it.”
Cooper looked up.
“This is an informal interview but an important one and I don’t want you to be distracted while we talk.”
Cooper obeyed, reluctantly laying his phone down next to the laptop.
“Mind if I smoke?” Franklin asked, producing his pack of cigarettes.
Cooper’s frown deepened. “I believe smoking inside any public building is illegal.”
Franklin tapped a cigarette out and popped it between his lips, reaching a finger inside the pack to fish out his lighter. “That’s true but I believe the deeds to this house are in your name, which makes it a private residence. A man can do whatever he likes in his own home.”
“I’m afraid I must still insist that you do not smoke.”
Franklin shrugged, returned the cigarette to the pack and laid it on the table next to Cooper’s phone. “Your house, your rules.”
The door closed as the final person left and Shepherd reached into the laptop case to pull out copies of the postcards sent to Kinderman and Douglas.
“Recognize these?” Franklin asked.
The reverend took them and studied them, his eyes struggling to focus, his vanity preventing him from wearing reading glasses. “Of course I recognize them.” He looked up and smiled. “Those are the shining words of Genesis.”
Franklin returned the smile but there was no warmth in it. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“Of course I do.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s mine.”
Silence stretched out in the empty room. The sofa creaked as Franklin leaned forward. “Care to tell us why you sent them?”
Cooper had opened his mouth to reply but the door opened and Miss Boerman reappeared carrying a tray of coffee. She moved the laptop to one side and placed it on the table, careful to avoid the documents and other items on the table. Cooper waited until she had left. “Do you believe what is written in the Bible, gentlemen? Are you men of faith? Because if you know your Scripture then you will not be blind to the clear signs that judgment day is upon us. I saw that those telescopes were an insult to the Lord, modern-day versions of the Tower of Babel, symbol of man’s pride in seeking to gaze upon the face of God, and I prayed to Him saying, “Lord, I know we have offended you, what would you have me do in your blessed name to make amends?’ ”
“And he told you to send death threats?”
Cooper smiled like a gambler with an ace in the hole. “Death threats? I sent no death threats.”
Shepherd reached into the case and handed over copies of the final letters sent to both Kinderman and Douglas. “Then maybe you can explain these.”
Cooper took them and held them at arm’s length, taking his time to inspect them before handing them back. “If you recall I admitted I did write those cards. But these are letters, and they have been typed not written.”
“So you’re saying you did not send these?”
“I did not.”
Franklin leaned farther forward, his voice dropping in a way that was both conspiratorial and menacing. “Quite a coincidence, though, don’t you think, them both making reference to the exact same thing.”
Cooper chuckled. “I don’t think I am the only one who has read the Bible and paid heed to the teachings of the good book. Let me ask you something, gentlemen. If you were aware that a heinous crime was being committed, would you not seek to prevent it from taking place? Are you not, as law enforcement officers, duty bound to uphold the law? Well, I follow the highest law there is, a law that is second to none. So, yes, I will admit I did send those cards, I saw it as my duty to remind those people of the danger of what they were doing, but I did not threaten anyone, as God is my witness I did not do that. Nor am I responsible for the events that have succeeded in toppling these towers.”
Franklin stiffened. “What events?”
Cooper looked surprised. “Well now, surely you know.”
“Know what?”
Cooper leaned forward and tapped something into the laptop. “I don’t know if you were trying to keep a lid on it but I’m sure you are aware, news travels awful fast these days.” He turned the screen around for them to see. It showed a Twitter feed, new tweets appearing almost every second, all using the same hashtags:
WDW Kate @WebbieWorld349
Explosion at Marshall Space Center. James Webb telescope destroyed? Latest. ow.ly/c5mK #NASA #HUBBLE_WEBB