"Oh, that's all of it," Tori answered. "This is a French paper, only a few pages. Just essential news. No junk."
"Whoa, this is really small. Can you read French? What does it say?"
Tori put her glasses back on and applied herself to translate the headlines for Jennifer. Suddenly she exclaimed, "My God, someone got killed at the Astoria last night!"
"The Astoria? That's where Mr. K is staying isn't it? It wasn't him who was killed, was it?" Jennifer felt uneasy, almost a feeling of impending doom.
"No, it was a woman... Oh my, what a vicious killing! She was cut into pieces alive!... But I shouldn't tell you that, you are too young. Besides, you're having breakfast..." Tori stopped then apologized. "Sorry, I did it again. No, I'm not going to treat you like a baby."
"I hope not. What did she do? Why was she killed?" In Jennifer's mind there had to be a reason.
"I don't know, but this is something about big cities you will have to be aware of. You cannot trust strangers. You have to be very careful. Paris is a dangerous place for women and young girls."
"Do they know who killed her?" Jennifer attacked her croissant with a vengeance.
"Not yet. They say it might be the work of a cult." Tori turned the page.
"What's a cult?"
"Dangerous people doing mean, crazy things."
"What for?"
"The worst of it is, they are so twisted that they believe it's the right thing to do."
Jennifer dropped the matter. Such a heinous crime so close to someone she knew made her uncomfortable. She finished her breakfast in silence then asked, "Do they have tigers at the zoo?"
"Certainly."
"Can we go to the zoo today?"
"It's a good day for it."
"I like tigers and timber wolves. Do you think they have timber wolves?"
"I wouldn't be surprised at all if they did."
Chapter Eleven
"What kind of degenerate is your best friend, my dear?" Walter seethed, raging out of bounds.
Standing in the middle of the living room, Debbie could not think of anything to say. Walter had uncovered a truth she could not deny, but how to explain the unexplainable?
"According to my sources, and they are extremely reliable," Walter went on, "Michael Tanner is a despicable character, an alcoholic who jumped bail on DUI in two different states, a brawler arrested on one count of aggravated assault with intent. There are warrants for his arrest in several western states. He frequents the most dubious establishments, rubbing shoulders with go-go dancers." Walter turned away, staring through the patio doors.
Debbie had to control her outrage. Her own sister, Becky, had been a topless dancer for a while. "I know, but he never got a chance to even start right," Debbie pleaded. She slumped onto the sofa, feeling defeated. She should have known something had gone wrong when Walter took two days to answer her messages.
"Easy excuses. He's a mean bastard, your best friend. And you are asking me to help him get exposure for a moral crusade? What kind of joke is this? I can't believe it from you. I trusted you. In fact, I thought you could do no wrong. Please, Debbie, tell me this is a mistake... Michael was only twelve when he attempted to kill his stepfather, for heaven's sake. How trustworthy can he be?"
"Please Walter, you have to understand... His childhood was a nightmare."
Walter's face, red and congested, remained immovable. "I was raised by a very strict father myself. Nowadays, they call anything abuse. I got hit, too, when I did something wrong."
Debbie boiled inside, the sensation of heat reaching her temples. She rose and paced the room, remembering her fighting spirit. "Did your report also tell you that Michael took his ten-year-old brother, Dave, away from that tyrant. At fifteen, Michael raised his young brother, working hard to feed him, providing a roof over his head and keeping him in school. Only later did he finished his own education, attending night classes at a community college."
As Walter's stubborn expression did not change, Debbie went on. "His wife and baby died when he was a teenager. Later, when his dopey girlfriend had a sick premature baby and ran away, Michael raised Jennifer himself, and very well I might say. What he needs is love, understanding, another chance at life."
Still no reaction from Walter, but if Debbie pushed a little more, maybe he would give. "Often his extreme sensitivity pushed him to the limits," she continued. "Do you know that he raised several sick kids that weren't his own? There was a little girl with cystic fibrosis, Penny. Michael bankrupted his business paying her hospital bills. When she died, at seven, despair made him swim out to sea, hoping to join her. He was rescued unconscious by a fishing boat. His bipolar personality drives him to extremes in stressful times. But all his life he tried to help others, giving a job, sharing his place with a homeless for a while, doing free carpentry work for charities that needed it, helping his neighbors and his friends when they hit hard times." There. Debbie breathed better now.
"I didn't know that, but it doesn't change anything."
"Walter, you don't understand. Michael always had love at heart, but his stepfather beat him regularly because he was smart, sensitive, different. Michael had to fight back to protect himself and those he loved. Hatred, he learned from his stepfather who, I suspect, also abused him sexually, although Michael never told me that..."
Walter remained silent, his face an unreadable mask.
Undaunted, Debbie continued. "The mother was a pretty young thing with no skills who couldn't manage by herself. She married out of desperation, keeping a cleaver under the pillow at night, just in case her husband would try to brutalize her, too." Debbie could smell her own sour sweat now and hoped Walter could not.
"I'm sorry, Debbie. Lots of people who had a difficult childhood don't break the law at every turn because it's convenient. I cannot jeopardize my career by endorsing someone I don't trust, even for a good cause." Walter turned suddenly, bumping the table, shaking the vase still containing the red carnations. "This campaign is different from simple news coverage... I would be personally involved. I just don't trust him enough. I'm not even sure I can trust you anymore. Now I wonder what else you're not telling me. Is Michael your lover? Why do you support him so unconditionally when he's on the wrong side of the law?"
Debbie could not pretend any longer a calm she did not feel. "Walter, that's enough!" she said louder than intended. "Michael and I are childhood friends. Besides, he has changed. Can't you tell that he's no longer the man you describe?"
But nothing she said could stop the flow coming from Walter's angry mouth. "This guy comes out of nowhere, shimmering, demonstrating incredible powers, but who is he inside? Who am I giving my support to? How do I know he's not going to start drinking again tomorrow and become that depraved addict, that criminal portrayed in my file? What happens when he's found out and gets arrested on the set and his crusade turns to ridicule? Debbie, I'm very disappointed. I thought you had higher standards."
"I asked you to do this for me because I know it's right. Of course, there are no guarantees, but I've known Michael as long as I can remember. We have no secrets from each other. I know his heart is good and I do trust him. Besides, I owe him too much to refuse him. He was wonderful to me when I needed him. Michael brought me back up when I was down. He understands me better than anyone else. We helped each other through thick and thin over the years and I will not let him down."
"What did he help you with?" Walter asked with vehemence. "What did you need him for?"
"I can't tell you that, not yet... But most of all, I didn't expect you to investigate him. That alone tells me that you didn't trust me in the first place." By now Debbie fumed inside. "And yes, there are things you don't know about me... Maybe you should ask your private detectives to hit their computers and start a file on me, if you haven't already."
"Well my dear, I just might take your advice. I'm a practical man who believes in facts."
"I don't have to explain myself, and I'm not going
to," Debbie burst out. "I have my reasons for doing what I do, and I will tell them to whomever and whenever it goddamn well pleases me!"
"So be it! Count me out." Walter looked at her with hurt in his eyes. "Goodbye, Debbie... If you change your mind and want to see me, you know where to find me."
There was a cool draft as Walter opened the door with an angry pull. Debbie's heart shattered into sobs after he slammed it shut. He hadn’t looked back.
*****
The past days had been filled with preparations. One night, when Debbie came home, Michael talked on the phone while stirring gravy in a pan. "See you Monday morning at ten, thanks again." He hung up the phone, turned down the flame, then abandoned the stove to help Debbie unload the groceries. "That was Channel Three. They set up the interview for Monday morning," he announced with a grinn he couldn't repress.
"Great. Everything's going smooth so far." Debbie smiled back, going through her mail. A red invitation stood out from the junk mail and bills with no stamp or postmark.
"I wonder how it got into my mailbox?" Debbie opened the stiff envelope. It did not have an address, much less a sender's name. She opened the thick paper with anticipation but blanched as she read.
"What is it?" Michael automatically made contact with Debbie's mind, he read through her eyes the perfectly calligraphed words.
You have wandered beyond the safe path. Stop now if you value your life, for I do not. You could lose blood and soul in your very last scream. Signed K.
"Krastinios... I knew it! The bastard must be awfully close. How does he know so much so fast?" Michael wondered aloud.
"How do you know it's him?" Debbie's words came out faint and shaken.
"Oh, it's him all right. He didn't deliver it personally, I would have felt him near, but he sent it, no doubt. I bet he has connections in Washington. I warned you about him."
Michael suddenly remembered the gravy on the stove. "Damn!" He ran to the kitchen and turned the wooden spoon in the gravy a few times. "He's something like me, except that he uses his powers for evil. Debbie, I won't hold it against you if you don't want to go through with the Crusade." After turning off the stove, he tapped the spoon on the edge of the pan, wiped his hands, and came back to sit on the couch. He took Debbie's hands and looked into her eyes. "Krastinios is more dangerous than you can imagine. He means what he says. He already killed Veronica. I couldn't bear losing you, too..."
"Come on, Michael, you warned me in the beginning. I haven't come this far to stop now." Debbie's voice, though resolute, still had a ring of fear and uncertainty.
"I appreciate your courage, but you may want to think about this."
"I thought about my life a long time ago, when I learned I had cancer. I decided then that fear would never rule me, that no matter the consequences, I would do what I thought was right. And I happen to think that what you're doing is right. I only have a short time left... I might as well use it to bring hope to humanity." Tears made her eyes brighter. With her chin set, she looked like a martyr unwavering in the face of death.
Michael gathered her in his arms. "While we work together, I will not let you out of my sight. I may be able to protect you if you are close. In any case I'll feel better."
Debbie's smile illuminated her face. "I wish Walter understood me as you do," she said wistfully.
*****
That night, in need of reassurance, Michael visited Amrah's spaceship. Away from it for several days, he realized how much he had missed his father. Amrah, even kinder than usual, seemed glad to see him.
"Father, I don't know if I can handle this job," Michael confessed with humility, an uncomfortable feeling at best.
"You can, and you will. I know it." The gentle alien shimmered in reassurance. "It will be all right. You can handle it." Amrah looked sad for a second. "My main concern is Krastinios. The extent of his abilities, his motivations, his real purpose are still a mystery. Be careful, my son. He may be more dangerous than even I can imagine."
"I’ll be careful, Father. Don't worry about me," Michael said, with more bravado than he felt.
*****
Crowds had always fascinated Michael. This particular throng rumbled deep and strong as an ocean. It had kept swelling since early morning and, from the side of the podium, Michael could watch it grow, filling up the patches of green grass still visible from the park along the avenue. Despite the presence of several groups of diverging opinions, the gathering had remained peaceful so far. The cause of hungry children did not have any opponents. Everyone wanted to be a part of the supporting event.
Debbie had worked on this for weeks before Michael came to the capital. She had invited leaders from all walks of life to deliver a speech for the children. Ignoring the threatening message of the night before, she arranged for Michael to talk as one of the many guest speakers. Since he did not want to give his real name, Debbie insisted that he be introduced as Crusader. Michael agreed, although he felt uncomfortable about it. The title sounded pretentious.
Since the national press monitored each and every happening in the capital city, Michael knew the journalists would attend. White, blue, yellow and red Vans from CNN, NBC, and every other TV channel and radio station lined the periphery of the multitude.
When Walter had stopped helping, Debbie worked doubly hard. Thanks to the chance she gave him, Michael would monopolize the eyes and ears of the media, using the exposure for the Earth Crusade. The sooner Michael started, the sooner Krastinios would show himself. Several guests had already delivered their speech. Michael was next. When the sun hid behind small clouds, he felt a chill in the air. He had never spoken in public before.
Despite the smell of spring flowers surrounding the stage, Michael still had misgivings as he ascended the steps of the podium. When Debbie waved at him from the other side, Michael scanned the crowd for any danger to her life. He could see none. With butterflies in his stomach he started talking. No pyrotechnics or pretenses, he would just tell the truth as he felt it. As soon as he spoke, all his fears vanished and he enjoyed a deep communion with the crowd.
"Children have filled my life with laughter and tears," Michael said, recalling vivid memories. "I have known no greater joys and no greater pains than from the children I loved. Most of them need so little, just love and food. Some need a lot more care, and for others, it's already too late."
His voice choked at the memory of Penny’s death, and he had to take a deep breath to clear the tears blurring his vision. "But don't let the fear of losing them stop you from adopting, loving, or helping these children. The next time you see a child in need, stop making excuses and do something about it, anything from calling the authorities to giving him a piece of fruit. There's no excuse for beating or starving a child, or standing by while such abuses happen. Today's society suffers from a common disease called indifference."
As he paused, Michael noticed the lulled silence of the crowd. Although he did not use his powers, the audience felt the strength beyond the words. But something else caught his attention, something evil gathering above. Krastinios would try to stop him. Watching Debbie and the heavy cloud billowing above him, he went on.
"We can cure this indifference by simply listening to our hearts. Deep down we know what's right and wrong, and we all yearn to help. Whether it's about the children, the people of Earth or the planet itself, let's make a commitment to help in any way we can. Love is contagious, too. Spread it!"
The cloud above darkened then emitted a blinding light a quarter-mile in diameter. The air threatened to explode. Michael, sweating despite the unnatural chill, concentrated his energy to spread a protective shield over the crowd, like a shimmering dome.
Frantic activity possessed the camera crew. Michael's eagle eye could see them desperately fitting filters and lenses to get the phenomenon on film as best they could. Transfixed, the silent crowd stared at the luminescence while Michael struggled to keep the evil cloud away.
Suddenly, the threat was go
ne. The cloud and the light dissipated and Michael relaxed. Krastinios had retreated this time. Canceling the shield, Michael ended his talk as if nothing unusual had happened. "Thank you for your attention. May your good will be rewarded in your hearts."
Dead silence. Michael could see tears rolling down young and old cheeks. The quiet crowd then started a low murmur swelling into a crescendo of voices. Frenzied effervescence surged in the area of the press. Everyone rushed to reach the stage before Michael could step down.
With tremendous authority, Michael influenced the chaos into order. He gazed in concentration into each and every camera, answering questions with purpose, monitoring the effect of his answers through the mind of his close listeners. On his far left, Michael could see Walter walking slowly toward Debbie while the crowd pressed Michael with questions.
"What was this thing? How did you do that?"
"Was this a natural phenomenon?"
"Is this a hoax?"
"What kind of power are you using?"
"Why do you think people were crying as they listened to you?"
"Is Crusader your real name? Are you hiding your real identity?"
"What's the meaning of your speech today?"
"Is this part of a new political campaign?"
Michael fed the media answers that would elicit more questions, carefully preparing a fruitful exposure. Each opportunity to talk to the public gave him one more chance to impart his urgent message to his fellow humans.
*****
Debbie observed with interest the unfolding of the plan Michael and she had developed, amazed at the accuracy of his insight. It had really started. She could tell by the crowd swarming the stage. Michael was handling things so well...
Debbie's heart beat fast with excitement but almost stopped when she saw Walter coming toward her, looking as embarrassed as a little boy. Although glad to see him, Debbie could not help being sarcastic. "So, you finally changed your mind?"
Archangel Crusader Page 10
