Spellbinder

by Harold Robbins

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Just because you made him stop callin’ us niggers ain’t goin’ to stop that man,” Joe said. “He’s a born hater, that one. He ain’t goin’ to let go until he got me swingin’ from a tree with a rope around my neck and you cookin’ over a fire nailed to a burnin’ cross.”

  Preacher watched him take a massive bite from the rare half-pound cheeseburger that left less than half the giant sandwich in his hand. It seemed as if he almost didn’t chew it at all before it went down. Preacher glanced at Beverly, picking daintily at her salad, then back at Joe. “I’m glad all that talk of gore hasn’t affected your appetite,” he said, smiling.

  Joe washed his throat with half a bottle of beer before he spoke. “You know what I say is true, Preacher. That man is bad. The only reason he ain’t dumpin’ down on us right now is because he smells money.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you, Joe,” Preacher said. “But if I spend my time worrying about all the haters in this world, I’ll never have time to get my work done.”

  “Mark my words,” Joe said darkly. “Just as soon as that Crusade is over, he’s goin’ to make his move.”

  “You’re wrong.” Preacher shook his head. “He’s going to move before that.”

  Joe stared at him. “You know somethin’ I don’t?”

  “No,” Preacher answered. “But it’s logical. He’s only going to wait until he’s sure that nothing can stop the Crusade from going forward. Then he’s got to get rid of us. Because he knows that if we get the credit for pulling this off, there’s nothing he can ever do to touch us.”

  “Shit!” Joe said in disgust. “And here I been thinkin’ I got three months at least in which to play it safe.”

  Preacher smiled. “There’s nothing that says that we can’t prepare ourselves for him, though.”

  “How can you prepare yourself when you don’t know what he’s goin’ to do?” Joe asked. “That man’s a snake. You don’t know from which direction he’s goin’ to come at you.”

  “True enough,” Preacher said. “All we can do is shore up our defenses so that we’re ready no matter how he attacks.”

  “Like in ’Nam,” Joe said. “String wire all around the perimeter, front and back. He’s got to trip over at least one of them.”

  “Hopefully,” Preacher said.

  “I got a better idea and it’s simpler,” Joe said. “Let me plant a plastic cookie under the back seat of that big stretchout of his. Then the next time he gets in the car and puts his ass down on that seat, boom! It’ll be the biggest bowel movement that son of a bitch ever had.”

  Preacher laughed, shaking his head. “You never change, Joe. Can’t you just once remember that you’re a man of God now? And that isn’t what men of God do.”

  “Okay,” Joe said. “Give me a better idea.”

  “Let’s try to take care of ourselves,” Preacher said, “and leave him to heaven.”

  “Amen,” Joe said. “Now tell me what we’re going to do.”

  “First, lock the door,” Preacher said. “I don’t want anyone walking in on us.”

  They had been having lunch in the library at the parsonage. Preacher waited until Joe had locked the door and come back to the table. Then he rose from his own chair and pushed aside a panel on the bookshelf wall, revealing a safe. Quickly he spun the dial, opened the door, took out some papers, then returned everything to its normal position and came back to the table. He handed the papers across the table to Beverly, who looked at them. “Recognize them?” he asked.

  She raised her head and nodded silently.

  “A long time ago we decided to prepare ourselves in case something like this was ever going to happen,” he said. “Well, it’s happening right now.”

  She nodded again.

  “I don’t know what the hell you two are talkin’ about,” Joe said.

  Preacher looked at him. “I want to give the Community of God Church to the affiliates.”

  Joe stared at him. “Now I know you’re nuts, man. You’re givin’ away fifty million dollars. Maybe more.”

  “I don’t need the money,” Preacher said. “And I want it set up so that each church that acquires a share sets it up in a trust for the poor of its community.”

  “Then what do you get out of it?” Joe asked.

  “If everything goes the way I planned it,” Preacher said, “I’ll have exactly what I started out with. Nothing.”

  Joe shook his head sadly. “Preacher, Preacher, you don’t change neither. You got about as much sense now as when I met you in ’Nam. None at all.”

  Preacher looked at Beverly. “It will be a lot of work. First, you’ll have to arrange to get the money to the affiliated churches. Then a trust has to be set up which will acquire the shares in the Community. I think you know how to do that.”

  “Yes,” Beverly answered. “We make an anonymous donation to the churches from this account. At the same time the church trust turns this money back to us for your shares in the Community.”

  “That’s right,” Preacher said.

  “Then what do you want done with that money?” she asked. “It’s made a round trip right back to you.”

  “Put it in a bank account in trust for my children with their mother as trustee,” he said. “I also want you and Joe to have a share.” He turned to Joe. “You’ll have to work out the agreements with the affiliates,” he said. “But I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that.”

  “What problem?” Joe laughed shortly. “Shit, man. By the time I finish givin’ them all that money, they goin’ to think I’m Santa Claus.”

  “There is just one thing though,” Preacher said. “I want it all signed, sealed and delivered before the Crusade.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time,” Beverly said. “It means that for the next three months Joe and I will have time for nothing else.”

  “That’s right,” Preacher nodded. He looked at them. “Can you do it?”

  Beverly and Joe looked at each other for a moment. Then Joe nodded and she turned back to Preacher. “We’ll do it.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  Suddenly her eyes misted over and she ran into his arms. She kissed his cheek and he felt the wetness of her tears. “You know we love you, Preacher.”

  Joe came and put his giant arms around both of them. His voice was husky. “That’s right, you crazy man. We sure do love you. But tell me why, man. Why you givin’ everything away? Nobody’ll appreciate it and in the end you’ll get nothing but shit for it.”

  Preacher felt the warmth of their love. His eyes misted over. He wanted them to understand.

  “Remember when we had the gospel tent and we used to fight about giving money to the local churches?” he asked. He didn’t wait for them to answer. “Don’t you see? This is the same thing. We’re only returning the money to the churches and the congregations it rightfully belongs to.”

  ***

  Marcus was in the waiting room when he got back to his office after lunch. “I have those figures for you,” he said.

  “Come inside,” Preacher said, leading the way into his office. He closed the door behind him and walked around his desk. He looked into Marcus’ face for a moment. “Okay, how bad was it?”

  “We got hurt,” Marcus said. “Nationally we normally lose ten percent of our audience the second half-hour as against the first, this time twenty-three percent. Do you want the breakdown by market?”

  Preacher nodded.

  Marcus read from the typewritten sheet in his hand. “I’ll begin with the worst and work my way up,” he said. “The South, normal loss 5 percent, this time 46 percent; the Southwest, normal loss 15 percent, this time 37 percent; the Midwest, normal loss 2 percent, this time 31 percent; the Coast, normal loss 2 percent, this time 20 percent; the Mid-Atlantic, normal loss 7 percent, this time 19 percent; the Northeast, normal loss 15 percent, this time 17 percent. The only bright spots were the urban centers. Philadelphia, New York, Bos
ton, Detroit, Chicago and L.A., mostly all were normal, with Detroit and Chicago even up a little.”

  Preacher nodded. The figures checked out with all the other reports, the telephone message center, and the overnight letters and collections. Based on the first day’s collection report, the computer extrapolated a drop this week of at least forty percent. He looked at Marcus and smiled wryly. “Maybe I was in too much of a hurry,” he said. “Perhaps I should have taken the time to build the audience up to it. Doing the right thing doesn’t always work out that way.”

  “I think the results would have been the same whenever you did it,” Marcus said. “The crackpots and lunatics are always out there waiting to tear you up. Anyway, you did it and it’s behind you now. Let’s wait and see what happens next week. Who are you putting on?”

  “Sorensen,” Preacher said.

  “A perfect choice,” Marcus said. “He’s a special favorite of the far right, the dyed-in-the-wool conservatives and the Moral Majority. I suggest that we hit heavy with advertising and on-the-air radio promos all this week and he’ll get you numbers.”

  Preacher nodded. “You take care of it.”

  “I’ve already put it in the works,” Marcus said.

  “Good,” Preacher said. “How long do you think it will be before these numbers get around?”

  “If I know Carrol,” Marcus said, “he’s on his way out to the Randle Ranch right now.”

  Preacher shook his head. “That’s not going to help our case much.”

  “We’ve got a saying in the television business that we took from the newspaper business,” Marcus said. “The hell with it. It’s yesterday’s news. We’ve got another show to get on.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Preacher said. The telephone on his desk rang. He picked it up, listened for a moment, then handed it to Marcus. “It’s for you.”

  “Yes,” Marcus said into the phone. He listened for a moment, then put it down and looked at Preacher. “The tower just called to let us know that our lady’s six minutes away from touchdown, so I guess we might as well get on out there.”

  “Might as well,” Preacher said despondently.

  “Don’t be so down,” Marcus said, trying to change his mood. They stepped into the private elevator. “You might have some fun. I have a feeling the lady’s hot to trot. Living with a fag can’t be all that easy.”

  Preacher shot him a glance. Apparently it wasn’t as much of a secret as she thought, or maybe she’d meant it was a secret only as far as the public was concerned. “If she is,” he said, “then you’re going to have to put her through her paces.”

  “But she’s not interested in me,” Marcus laughed. “She’s got big eyes for you.”

  They came out of the elevator and went out the side entrance, where the chauffeur was waiting with the limousine. “It’s not going to do her much good then,” Preacher said as they got into the car. “I’ve got about all the trouble I can handle.”

  But he was wrong. He didn’t know how she did it but Kim managed to have him ask her to dinner at the parsonage that night. They had coffee in the library and she came up with a couple of super sinsemillas. They were in bed together before midnight.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The two men were leaving his office the next morning as he came in. He paused at his secretary’s desk. “Who are they?” he asked.

  “Telephone men, Dr. Talbot,” she answered in an excited voice. “We’re the first office to get the new phones. They’re on their way to the parsonage now to make the installation there.”

  “I was perfectly happy with the old phones,” he said.

  “You’ll love these, Dr. Talbot,” she said. “They’re completely automatic and so easy to operate. And best of all, they’re voice-activated. You don’t have to pick up the receiver to answer it, just the sound of your voice alone will do it and if you want to speak privately when there’s someone in the office, all you do is pick up the receiver. Then there’s a printout screen that shows the number you just dialed and if you get a busy, it will redial the same number automatically for you every fifteen seconds until it’s answered. It has everything, including an answering device that will take messages when you’re away from your desk. All the secretaries are as excited about it as I am. It will make our work so much easier for us.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “By the way, Mrs. Hill, who ordered this equipment?”

  “The new treasurer, Mr. Duncan,” she answered. “There was a team of efficiency experts in here the week before last and Friday we received a memo that a new phone system was going to be installed starting today and that the installation throughout all the offices should be completed in less than two weeks.”

  “That’s wonderful,” he said unenthusiastically. “Would you get Mr. Duncan on the phone for me? Or do I just have to snap my fingers at it?”

  “No, Dr. Talbot,” she giggled. “There are some things we secretaries still have to do.”

  He went into his office and sat behind the desk. The new instrument looked like a miniaturized version of a call director. While he was staring at it, it began to ring. He didn’t touch the phone, as she had directed him. “Yes?”

  “I have Mr. Duncan for you on line one.”

  “Good,” he said. “Put him on.” He paused for a moment. “Sutter?”

  The indicator light for line one stopped flashing and turned into a steady glow. “Dr. Talbot, how do you like the new equipment?”

  “It’s something else,” Preacher said. “It had to cost a lot of money.”

  “Close to a million dollars,” Duncan replied. “But the resulting efficiencies will recover the cost for us in less than eighteen months and the savings after that could run between three hundred fifty and five hundred thousand a year. The telephone company equipment rental charges amounted to a quarter million a year alone—against a service and maintenance contract for the new system of a hundred thousand.”

  “That sounds good,” Preacher said. “But what guarantees do we have that the company will still be in business when we need them?”

  Duncan laughed. “I can’t imagine Mr. Randle would enter into a fly-by-night proposition. He has the sole sales and distribution rights to this line for the entire state of Texas and is negotiating with the manufacturers in Japan for the rights to all of the Southwest.”

  “That’s good enough for me, Sutter,” Preacher said. “Thanks for putting me first on your list.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Dr. Talbot. As a matter of fact, Mr. Randle insisted on it.”

  “Thanks anyway, Sutter. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Dr. Talbot.” The indicator light went out.

  Preacher leaned back in his chair. The old man was no fool. If he was going to lift a million-dollar contract, he was going to make sure that Preacher could not object to it. Once the equipment was installed in his office, there was no way he could have it removed. Still, a contract of that size should have been brought before the board for approval, but the old man had been shrewd enough to calculate that if Preacher objected to the expenditure he could always backtrack and agree to let them have the new equipment for the same amount they were paying the telephone company.

  The telephone rang again. “Mrs. Hickox, Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Carrol are here for their appointment.”

  “Show them in,” he replied, rising.

  The door opened and Kim came in first, the others following. He came around his desk and kissed her cheek, then led them to a conversational grouping at the far side of the office. He waved them to the couch and seated himself in a chair opposite them. “Well.” He smiled. “How did it go?”

  “Unbelievably well, Dr. Talbot,” she said. “Marcus and Sanford couldn’t have been nicer and the technical staff they have assembled are second to none I have ever seen, even in Hollywood. I’m so excited that I’m ready to begin even sooner than we agreed if you want.”

  “That is good news,” he said. He turned to Marcus. “
How do you feel about it?”

  “Both Sanford and I agree that it might not be a bad idea,” Marcus replied. “We’ve had a fantastic week. We’ve already worked out the show format and the set is under construction right now. We also have Kim’s two writers collaborating with three of our own on storyboards and scripts. And Kim came up with a genius of an idea that will take the show right through the roof. I think you ought to hear it from her.”

  Preacher turned back to her. “It must be something very special to turn him on like that.”

  She played it modestly. “It’s really not that much. The idea itself was so simple and so obvious one of us would have picked it up in a matter of time.”

  “Maybe,” Sanford said. “But still you saw it first.”

  Preacher smiled. “Now tell me.”

  “As you know we plan to shoot the five shows in two days. Two the first day and three the next,” she said. “There are many reasons, including costs, which make that a very practical way to operate. Also we have more time to plan the following week’s programs. That was how I got the idea. Since it involved only two days’ work, why shouldn’t we have an important star as guest of the week? First, it will be easier to get someone of the caliber we seek for two days than for the whole week simply because we don’t demand that much of their time and second, we can make it attractive to them because we pay them way over scale for the two days—which massages their ego—while we might not be able to afford them if we kept them for a full week.”

  “That is a fantastic idea,” he said. “What kind of stars are you talking about?”

  “Not the stars you usually see on the usual TV gospel circuit. I’ve already called my agents in Hollywood as well as a number of personal friends, and it’s just possible we can get people like Charlton Heston, whose most famous role was that of Moses in The Ten Commandments, to do selected readings from the script of that film, Carol Burnett to talk about her fight against drug abuse in children and the personal struggle to free her own daughter from the problem, Danny Thomas about his work for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, singers like Aretha Franklin, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette, re-creating the inspirational songs of their old gospel days.”