thirty-four
After I warned my parents about the champagne, the rest of us listened to Feret’s speech from the staging area.
I turned to Archie and Ann. “Are you two ready to be resurrected?”
They nodded.
Sue stood up. “I’ll take you to the stage entrance. Mr. Berringer, come along.”
The four of them left the room.
I watched Val and George working on the video controls. “You ready to interrupt the broadcast?” I asked them.
Val nodded.
I turned back to listen to the speech.
Feret had strayed a bit. “And the proof lies in the death of the traitorous Soul Identity leaders,” he was saying. “These leaders refused to divulge the eternal truths, and so they were cleansed from the organization.”
Feret paused and leaned close to the microphone. “As of yesterday afternoon, I am the undisputed executive overseer of Soul Identity.”
We had to do this now, before Feret started his deadly toast. I keyed my microphone. “Dad, you’re on.”
I turned to watch the monitor showing the video display of the audience. Dad stood up from his seat in the hallway. “Excuse me!” he shouted.
Feret stopped talking. “Yes?” he asked.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Dad called. “But how do we know that Mr. Morgan and Ms. Blake are dead?”
“I just told you,” Feret said, in the same soft voice he used when he pointed his pistol at Val and me.
“I’ve been checking the news, but I can’t find anything,” Dad said.
The audience started whispering to each other. Feret raised his hand, and they quieted down.
“Who are you, sir?” he asked.
Dad smiled. “My name is Mr. Waverly.”
Feret seemed rattled, but only for a second. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Waverly,” he said. “We should chat later, for I may have something that belongs to you.” He scanned the audience. “Mr. Waverly wants to see proof that the head has been cut off the Soul Identity leadership. I am sorry that he does not trust me, but I understand the need for everybody to be absolutely sure.
“We have a video, taken yesterday at Soul Identity headquarters,” he said. He signaled to the sound desk, and a projection screen came down at the back of the stage.
I smiled at Val. “The movie sets up the grand entrance.”
She nodded.
Feret looked at the screen as the video came on. It started with Feret’s toast. We listened to him say let us drink to the cleansing of our past mistakes, and then we saw Archie and Ann collapse. The video played until the ambulance drove away.
“That’s amazing,” George said to me. “It looks like they really died.”
“It was enough to fool Feret.” I keyed the microphone. “Dad, say thanks.”
Dad was still standing as the lights came back on. “Thank you, Mr. Feret,” he called. “They look pretty dead to me.”
“We will talk later, Mr. Waverly.” Feret spread his arms wide. “I predicted their deaths three weeks ago,” he roared. “A power greater than us, the power of the eternal truths, has silenced them once and for all.” He bowed his head and spoke softly. “I am but a humble messenger sent by the source of those truths.”
The projector screen went up as Feret spoke. The audience gasped and started to stand up.
“They’re alive!” Dad shouted.
Feret turned around and looked at the back of the stage. Archie and Ann stood shaking their heads at him. They walked to the center of and faced Feret.
Archie turned on his microphone. “As Mark Twain once telegraphed to London, ‘the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated’.”
Ann switched on her own mike. “Mark Twain also said this, Mr. Feret. ‘Prophecy is a good line of business, but it is full of risks.’” She pointed at Feret. “You, sir, are a fraud.”
Feret stood frozen.
I motioned to Val. “Roll the video.”
She overrode the controls and brought the screen back down. Ann said, “Y’all need to watch that movie from another angle.”
The audience watched my recording. Val stepped frame by frame through Brian dropping the pills into the champagne glasses while Archie explained. He showed Brian directing Feret to an un-poisoned glass, and Feret refusing to take Archie’s glass for the toast.
The video stopped. The audience sat still.
“Mom!” Elizabeth came running down the aisle. Ann moved to the side of the podium, and they embraced.
Feret screamed at the audience. “Do not believe what you are seeing! They are fakes!”
Archie smiled. He walked over to the podium and held up a set of Soul Identity verification goggles from the depositary.
“Zoom in on its display so everybody can watch,” I told George.
“Got it.” He maneuvered the joystick. Val hit a button and the image appeared on the projection screen.
Archie put on the goggles. The display flashed, and thirty seconds later it showed “Archibald Morgan, executive overseer.”
Archie held the goggles up to Feret. “Care to try them on, Mr. Feret?”
Feret brushed the goggles aside and crowded Archie away from the podium. He turned to the audience. “These people have lied to you. They have tricked you. They have withheld the truths from you. WorldWideSouls members, you must trust me.” He held up his hands. “Trust me because I am the only one who cares about you.”
I signaled Val, and she flipped a switch.
“Hello, Andre, can you hear me?” I said into the microphone. There was some feedback, and George adjusted the volume.
“Who is it?” Feret asked.
“It’s Scott Waverly. Remember me?”
Feret nodded. “I do. You are also a fake, and a liar.” He looked at the audience. “Ignore this voice!” he shouted.
I walked over to Val and turned up the volume. “LISTEN FOR JUST ONE MINUTE,” I said, and my voice reverberated through the hall.
Feret stopped.
I turned down the volume and continued. “I want the audience to hear a conversation you and I had thirty minutes ago.” I nodded at Val.
Feret’s recorded voice came through the speakers. I turned up the volume, and it flooded the room.
We watched the audience respond to Feret’s comments. Many shook their heads when they heard him say these people disgust me. They are pathetic. When he mentioned that the money all goes to me. All of it, they started murmuring. Their restlessness grew when he said I just wish they would hurry up and die.
Val stopped the tape after he offered to make us partners. By this point, the crowd was buzzing like an angry wasp nest. Many people were standing on their chairs.
Feret banged his hands on the podium and leaned forward to speak. But as he opened his mouth, my Dad hollered out, “You’re a cheat!”
Several others in the audience joined in with loud boos. Whatever he tried to say was lost in the noise.
Feret glared at Archie, then he darted out the side entrance on the stage.
Some people in the audience chased after him, but Archie moved to the podium and held up his hands. “Let the poor man go,” he said. “He has been through enough already.”
The audience took a few minutes to quiet down. In the meantime, Berry walked onto the stage. He and Ann stepped forward and stood next to Archie.
Archie cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of WorldWideSouls, and members of Soul Identity. Many of you must be both surprised and unhappy to discover Ms. Blake and me alive and well.”
He looked around the room. “And many of you right now must be awfully confused,” he said.
Quite a few heads nodded at that.
Archie gave a sad smile. “I am truly sorry. Just the fact that you are here means that we, your Soul Identity leaders, failed you.”
He put his elbows on the podium. “It would be easy for me to stand here and blame everything on Mr. Feret,” he said.
“I could tell you how he tricked and misled and used you for his own selfish purposes.”
Another pause. We watched many in the audience nod their heads.
“But that is only half of the story,” Archie said. “Here is what I believe—if we had run Soul Identity properly, Andre Feret would never have been able to pull you away. If we had met your needs, you would have thought he was crazy. You would have told him to get lost.”
He watched the crowd for a minute. “This is what pains me the most,” he said quietly as the room went silent. “If we had met the needs of his family twelve years ago, Andre Feret would neither have thought about nor resorted to revenge.”
He sighed. “I have spent too much of my life trying to make sure we ran our organization as a business. But as a good friend pointed out, it is time to return the soul to Soul Identity. We need to bring it back. We must bring it back.” His voice rose in volume. “We will bring it back.”
Dad started applauding, and many others joined in.
Archie waited for the applause to die down. “I want you to meet somebody very important to Soul Identity,” he said. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Arthur Berringer, a true, honest to goodness overseer.”
I looked at Val. “Our job here is finished. You think we should head down there and bask in the glow of success?”
Val pointed to her clothes. “Dressed like this?”
I grinned. “I like your no-bra look, and I’m fine with going commando.”
As we entered the connecting hallway, Val grabbed my arm and pointed ahead. “Somebody’s in trouble,” she said.
We ran barefooted as fast as we could, but slid to a stop when we saw who it was: Bob sat on Feret’s chest and punched him again and again with both his fists.
Blood and mucus covered Feret’s face. Each punch from Bob snapped his head one way and then the other.
I tackled Bob, and we tumbled to the floor.
“I was supposed to help him escape if anything went wrong, but I couldn’t do it.” Tears streamed down Bob’s face. He wrenched free from my grip and kicked Feret in the ribs.
Val grabbed his shoulder. “That’s enough!” she yelled.
Feret let out a groan and lifted his head, only to let it fall with a thud.
“He’s still alive, Ms. Val. I need to stop him!”
I stood up. “You have stopped him, Bob. He’s going nowhere.”
Bob’s eyes grew wide. “Then I need to finish him off, Mr. Scott.”
I thought how Feret had ordered Brian to kill Val and me—twice. And how my parents could have been killed during his “cleansing.”
But then I shook my head. “I want to kill him too—but it’s wrong,” I said.
Bob’s eyes darted between me and Val. Then he took a deep breath and turned his back on Feret.
I put my hand on Bob’s shoulder as the three of us walked toward the stage. “Even if you had killed him,” I said, “another Feret would pop up in a few years.”
He looked at me. “You think so?”
“They always do,” I said. We reached the side door, and I stopped and faced him. “The only way to stop a Feret is to show people they don’t need a Feret. Give them exposure to something better.”
He stared at me.
I smiled. “Let’s get in there and watch Archie and Berry do just that.”
Val opened the door, and Bob went inside. Val put her hand on my chest and smiled. “Exposure to something better? Didn’t I just hear that an hour ago?”
“The lesson’s straight from the Bridge of Boobs.” I gazed past her shoulder. “Uh oh.”
Madame Flora stood over Feret. Her back was to us.
“What is she doing?” I asked.
Val shrugged, and then gasped. The old lady pulled a revolver out of her purse, bent down, and wrapped Feret’s right hand around it.
Val and I ran back down the hallway.
Madame Flora glanced at us when we reached her. “You stopped Bob,” she said, “and now I have to finish the job myself.” She cocked the hammer and moved Feret’s finger to the trigger.
Val dug her fingernails into my arm.
“Wait!” I said.
Madame Flora spoke through gritted teeth. “Go. Away. Now.”
I shook my head. “He’s got a pistol in his jacket, and he has already used it to kill Brian. No sense wasting your own revolver.”
Madame Flora smiled. “Good boy.” She switched her revolver for Feret’s pistol. “Now run along,” she said.
“Don’t shoot!” Val said.
Madame Flora sighed. “Now what?”
I wondered if Val was going to make her stop.
“Andre is left handed,” she said.
“Thanks,” Madame Flora said. “Now scram.”
I grabbed Val’s hand, and we walked back toward George’s staging area. We flinched when we heard the pistol pop, but neither of us turned around.
Val pointed. “We’re going the wrong way.”
I squeezed her hand. “We’re not,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
epilogue
The WorldWideSouls members warmed to Berry by the end of his speech. Most of them returned to Soul Identity within a month.
Berry and Madame Flora moved to Sterling to work with Archie and Ann on reviving the organization’s soul. Deposits were up, memberships were up, and every church had come back. Soul Identity had dodged the insolvency bullet.
They also recovered most of the money Feret had taken. Ann was able to trace down its sources from the records Berry found in his soul line collection. Apparently Feret had trusted Soul Identity security after all.
James the elevator man finally retired. He had misunderstood his duties as a centuriat, and thought he was stuck at work. When he discovered Archie revoked the rule, he packed his bags and took a train to Florida.
The twins ran Madame Flora’s palm reading joint on the weekends and after school. One Sunday I got them to don their wigs and ambulance costumes and sneak a rifle past Jane Watson at the airport.
Val sat next to me on the dock, on one of those Indian summer afternoons when the Maryland air felt clear and crisp, and the bay water remained warm and inviting. She wore a blue bikini, the same shade as her eyes.
“You look ravishing,” I said.
She smiled, and that got me just as weak and dizzy as it did the first day we met.
She put down her fishing rod. “Want to take a swim?” she asked.
We held hands as we jumped, and then we swam under the dock. Val wrapped her arms and legs around me and gave me a kiss. “I like it here,” she said.
I untied her top and it floated up in the water. “Even when I do this?”
“Especially when you do that.”
We heard footsteps on the dock above us.
“Figures,” I said. I swam out while Val retied her top, and I saw Bob above us.
We climbed out of the water and grabbed our towels. Bob stood in his green uniform and silver sunglasses and smiled at us.
“It’s been a while,” I said to him.
“It has indeed, Mr. Scott. How are you, Ms. Val?”
Val smiled. “Fine, Bob. How’s Elizabeth?”
“She’s just great.” Bob handed me a package. “This is addressed to both of you.”
“You need a signature?” I asked.
“We trust you.”
As I tore open the package, I asked him, “so you’re back at Soul Identity, making deliveries like old times?”
Bob nodded. “Yes, Mr. Scott. I’m back in the business.”
I read the letter and handed it to Val. Then I grinned and said, “And so are we.”
Soul Intent
by
Dennis Batchelder
is coming soon!
Turn the page for a preview of Soul Intent. …
prologue
October 15, 1946
Nuremberg, Germany
Archibald Morgan withdrew his hand from the prisoner’s clammy
grasp and wiped it on the sleeve of his brown robe. “The deposit is complete,” he said.
The prisoner, a large man in a larger baggy uniform, licked his lips and spoke in a whisper. “Everything left was accepted? My gold and my papers?”
“All of it.” Morgan dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a flimsy sheet of paper. “Your depositary receipt.”
The prisoner took the paper and used his finger to caress the listed items. “Sleep well, my little darlings.” He handed the receipt back to Morgan. “Please destroy it. If the guards discovered it after they…” His voice trailed off.
“We would not want that to happen.” Morgan secreted the paper inside his robe. “Good luck, sir.”
“I believe my luck has, how do you Americans put it? Run out.” The man frowned. “Keep everything safe.” His voice rose in volume. “For soon I shall return and gaze upon my own marble monument in Berlin.”
The white-helmeted guard banged his stick on the door. The sound bounced off the stark walls. “Enough already with that monument crap. Keep your noise down, Nazi.”
The prisoner bowed his head to the guard, then glanced at Morgan. “Since the verdict two weeks ago, they have become unbearably rude,” he whispered.
As the guard let Morgan out of the cell, the prisoner called out, “I won’t forget this, Archibald Morgan. Upon my return, I shall find and reward you for your good work.”
The Soul Identity overseer shuddered at the thought. He shuffled as fast as he dared out of Nuremberg Prison’s Cellblock C and almost tripped on his robe. He climbed the two flights of stairs, nodded at the soldier behind the desk, and escaped into the brisk October evening.
As far as Morgan was concerned, Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering’s promises had fallen upon deaf ears. The Nazi general should rot in hell and never return.
He paused after he crossed the platz and stepped onto the sidewalk. Spotlights mounted on the Palais du Justice walls cast an array of sinister shadows in front of him. He had done his despicable duty. He alone had understood that the journey to a better world required distasteful compromises. Maybe someday Flora would also understand…
Soul Identity Page 31
