Spellbinder

by Harold Robbins

  “You got me.” Preacher smiled. “When do we start?”

  “With luck and God’s help,” she said, “I could be ready to shoot a pilot the week after next. The big problem as I see it is, if we do decide to start earlier, can we get air time?”

  “That’s not my department,” Preacher said. “Gentlemen, what do you think?”

  Marcus passed on that question. “I think Sanford is much closer to the market situation than I am.”

  Sanford cleared his throat. “We might have a better chance than we think. After all, we are going into the summer months and the recession has hurt the sale of television time as much as it has everything else. If you’ll give me a few days to investigate the situation thoroughly, I’ll be able to get you a better fix on it. But I have to approach it cautiously. I wouldn’t want any of the stations to think that we have to have the time or they’ll push their rates through the roof.”

  “You take all the time you need,” Preacher said. “Meanwhile let’s all of us keep on working as if we’re going to make it on the air this summer.”

  The telephone rang. “Dr. Talbot,” his secretary’s voice said, “your next appointment is here.”

  “Show them to the waiting room,” he said. “I’ll be just a few minutes more.” He turned back to them. “I can’t tell you how pleased and excited I am about the tremendous enthusiasm and progress you have shown on this project. I just know we’re going to have a very big hit on our hands.”

  He got to his feet and they rose with him. “Now, remember to keep me posted. I want to be right with you all the way.”

  He walked with them to the door and opened it. “We’ll talk some more soon,” he said.

  Marcus and Sanford were already outside the office when Kim turned back to him. “I’m flying back to L.A. tomorrow morning,” she said in a low voice. “Do you think we can manage dinner tonight?”

  “I don’t see why not.” He smiled. “Eight o’clock at the parsonage?”

  “I’ll be there,” she whispered. “I can almost taste your cock right now.”

  She was gone before he had a chance to reply. The door to the waiting room opened and Melanie and Charlie came out just as Kim left the secretary’s office. He waited at the open door for them to come into his office. He closed the door and kissed both girls on the cheek.

  He led them to the conversational grouping and took his place again on the chair facing the couch. “Have they been keeping you busy, children?”

  “Not as much as we’d like,” Charlie said. “I don’t know whether it’s because someone’s put the word out on us or there’s just not much to do.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Been seein’ much of that lady, Preacher?” Melanie asked.

  “A little,” he answered. “On and off.”

  “Better watch out for her,” Melanie said. “She’s real bad news.”

  “That’s right,” Charlie added. “She a bona fide minister groupie. They say she’s balled the ministers of every show she’s ever been on and it’s cost some of them a lot of bread to get rid of her.”

  He was silent for a moment, looking at them, then rose to his feet. “How would you girls like to take a little walk outside with me? I feel like a little fresh air.”

  Mrs. Hill’s voice came from the telephone. “Dr. Sorensen’s on the line. He would like to talk to you.”

  “I’ll get back to him in about fifteen minutes,” he said. He looked at the girls. “Just for once I would like to be able to talk without being bugged by the telephone.”

  The girls nodded their understanding. “We’d love a little fresh air ourselves, Preacher.”

  They came out of his private entrance and walked down the path on the rolling lawn to the fountain. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked, watching the sunlight dancing in its spray.

  “Beautiful,” Melanie said.

  “It’s nicer from that hill over there,” he said.

  Silently, they followed him about five hundred yards up the hill. He turned and looked down at the fountain, then up at the building. Nothing could be seen behind its black windows. “There’s a bench just behind that cluster of trees,” he said.

  The bench could not be seen from the building. He sat down and they sat next to him. He turned toward them, his face serious. “I’ve got a very important job for you to do for me.”

  They nodded attentively, without speaking.

  “I’ll have to be brief,” he said, “because I’ve got appointments stacked up like crazy, so listen carefully. I want you to leave here, each of you separately, one of you tomorrow, the other a few days later. Say nothing to anyone, just pack your things and go. Arrange to meet in San Antonio and, wherever you stay, register under false names. When you are together, call Beverly at home in Los Altos. She will wire you fifty thousand dollars under whatever name you use. Use that money to buy the most completely equipped Winnebago you can find, one big enough for the three of us to live in. Register it under a false name and move into a trailer park. Then call Beverly again and let her know where you are and wait there for me.”

  “What’s it all about, Preacher?” Charlie asked in a concerned voice.

  “I haven’t got the time to go into it, but don’t worry. We’re not in any danger.” He looked at them. “Do you understand what I want you to do?”

  “We’ve got it, Preacher,” Melanie said. “Do you want me to run it back for you?”

  “Please.”

  Quickly, she repeated his instructions without missing a point. “Okay?” she asked when she had finished.

  “Perfect,” he said, taking an envelope out of his pocket. “There’s a thousand dollars in cash in there to cover your expenses. Just one more thing. Go there by a roundabout way and don’t forget to tell each other what names each of you is going to use.”

  They laughed together. “We won’t forget, Preacher,” Charlie said.

  He got to his feet and looked down at them. “Thanks,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you here, children. I’ve got to get back to the office.”

  “Preacher,” Melanie called as he started away, “is your office bugged?”

  He stopped to look back at her. “I think so. They just installed new phones today. And I didn’t order them.”

  She was silent for a moment. “When can we expect you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I have the feeling it won’t be long.”

  They watched him turn down the path and didn’t begin to rise from the bench until he had disappeared behind the cluster of trees.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “The board meeting will begin in ten minutes, Dr. Talbot.” Mrs. Hill’s voice came from the phone.

  “I’m just checking some papers, Mrs. Hill. I’ll be ready to leave in just a few minutes.”

  “Don’t forget they’re planning to run the pilot of the Hickox show before the official business.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Mrs. Hill,” he answered. “Thank you.” He finished putting the last of the papers in his folder when the phone rang again. “Yes, Mrs. Hill?”

  “Mrs. Washington is on the line from Los Altos,” his secretary said. “She says that it’s extremely important that she speak with you before the meeting.”

  “I’ll take it, Mrs. Hill.” He pressed the button. This time he picked up the telephone. “Yes, Beverly?”

  She sounded frightened and out of breath. “Some men were just here and took Joe away.”

  “What are you talking about? What men?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she half sobbed. “They said they were police when we opened the door. There were three of them. One of them took a piece of paper out of his pocket and said it was a warrant for his arrest on the charge of acts of terrorism he committed years ago and a charge of bigamy by his ex-wife in South Carolina. He told them they were full of shit, he had never been legally married, and besides there was no way those two charges could be on a single warran
t because they came under the jurisdiction of different courts. The man who told him about the warrant took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and told him not to give him any nigger crap and hold out his hands. ‘You ain’t no cops, you sons of bitches, you never even read me my rights,’ Joe yelled, and he swung at the man with the handcuffs and knocked him down. One of the other men hit Joe over the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him unconscious. Then the first man got to his feet and put the handcuffs on Joe and they began to drag him to the door. I began to scream and one of the men came back and slapped me on the face. ‘You better shut your mouth, you chink bitch,’ he said. ‘And get on the phone to your friend, Dr. Talbot. He’s the only man who can get your husband back to you alive.’ Then they dragged Joe out the door and dumped him into the back seat of a car and drove off with him.”

  “Did you see the make of the car or the license plate?”

  “It was a black car,” she said. “I couldn’t tell what kind. And the license plate was all smeared over with mud.” She began to cry into the receiver. “What’s happening, Preacher?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But you stay there and calm down. And don’t worry. I’ll find out and get him back to you.”

  “But he was bleeding. The blood was running all down his face from a cut on his head.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Preacher said soothingly. “I know him. He’s got a skull made of cast iron. Now you wait there until I call you back.”

  He put the receiver down slowly and picked up the folder. This was only the first gun fired. He wondered what would be next. And, oddly enough, he didn’t think he would have to wait very long to find out.

  ***

  He looked down the long director’s table at Randle as the picture faded from the giant projection screen and the lights came up. The old man’s eyes were closed. From the glimpses Preacher managed to catch of him during the program, he seemed to have slept through most of it.

  “I think it’s a very good show, gentlemen. The Hickoxes came across as sincerely warm and likable people. And best of all, it was really entertaining. It has a little of everything that makes successful television. A little game show, some very good songs by Jimmy, a great deal of heart from that lady whose strength was sustained by Jesus while her little boy was dying of cancer, and a fine touch of comedy in the skit where the Hickoxes deal with the plumber fixing their dishwasher. The show should get good ratings.” Preacher glanced around the table. “I would like to go with the show for the summer.”

  “I, for one, am a little disappointed, Dr. Talbot,” Sorensen said. “Personally I would prefer a greater emphasis on religion and less on fun and games. After all, this is a church-sponsored program.”

  “That’s exactly the point we’re trying to make, Dr. Sorensen,” Preacher said. “There are enough personality programs on the air right now with a heavy religious slant. I think people are fed up with them and turn them off. People want to be entertained today; they have too many problems of their own to be lectured to constantly. Don’t forget we’ll have four full commercial minutes on every show. That will get our message across.”

  “I’m not that sure,” Sorensen said.

  “Why don’t we try it this way for a few shows? If it doesn’t work, we can change it quickly enough.”

  “Is there some way we could incorporate a number of references about the Crusade into it?” Sorensen asked. “If we could do that, I would be inclined to go along with you.”

  “That’s up to our experts,” Preacher said. “Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Carrol, what are your thoughts?”

  “I think Dr. Sorensen’s idea can be accommodated without interfering with the flow of the program,” Carrol said.

  “I agree,” Marcus said. “It would take a little work but it can be done.”

  “Good,” Preacher said. “Then if Dr. Sorensen agrees, the chair will entertain a motion to put the show on the air as soon as possible.”

  Dr. Sorensen made the motion, it was seconded by Dr. Ryker and Mrs. Lacey and carried by a unanimous vote with only Lincoln and Carrol abstaining for propriety’s sake, since it was their work. As usual, the chair had no vote unless it was needed to break a tie.

  Preacher looked down at his notes. “Dr. Ryker has agreed that Dr. Sorensen will give us the progress report on the Crusade.”

  Dr. Sorensen rose. “It gives me great pleasure to report to this board that of the fifteen major television ministries on the air, eleven have given their consent to join us. Five of the pastors of those ministries have agreed to join us here on the dais in Churchland, the others will contribute short videotape clips to be incorporated into the program because of their commitments on the same day to their own ministries. Contracts have been submitted to more than thirty-one major arenas and theaters throughout the land to carry the Crusade, giving us a potential live audience of more than two million people. An average admission of five dollars will be charged, of which we will receive forty percent, a potential receipt from this source alone of four million dollars. No admission will be charged, of course, in our affiliated churches. However, in addition to our regularly programmed stations, various cable systems and normal television stations have expressed interest in also broadcasting our Crusade and various financial arrangements are in the process of negotiation. But I can safely say that we can conservatively estimate receipts of ten million dollars from these sources. We are also entertaining offers for syndication from various religious broadcasting companies both here and abroad and there is a possible additional million dollars in income from this source. Of course, none of the foregoing includes any income we might receive from the normal broadcasting of this Crusade whose present audience potential could be as much as forty million people. I don’t have to tell you that an average contribution of one dollar per person is not too much to expect. The guest committee has received over six hundred acceptances from important officials of national, state and local governments and other important public personalities to attend the Crusade here in Churchland. The program committee has now begun its work and we expect to have the final breakdown on the time allotted to each facet of the Crusade, speakers, music and entertainment.” He sat down to a ripple of applause from around the table.

  Preacher rose to his feet. “The chair expresses its personal appreciation to Dr. Sorensen for his fine report and to him, Dr. Ryker and their various committees and assistants our gratitude for their magnificent and unselfish efforts on behalf of this ministry.” He paused for a moment. “If there is no further business to come before this board, the chair will entertain a motion to adjourn.”

  The meeting over, members of the board began to file from the room as Preacher put his papers back into the folder. He picked it up and was about to rise from his chair when Randle spoke to him.

  “Do you have a moment for us?”

  Preacher looked down the table at the old man. Dick Craig and Mrs. Lacey were seated on either side of him. Drs. Sorensen and Ryker had remained in their regular seats. “Of course,” he answered, sinking back into his own chair.

  Randle gestured at the door and Ryker, who was nearest, jumped up and closed it. He returned to his seat. For a long while Randle looked across the table at Preacher. When he finally began to speak, his voice held a curious mixture of power and triumph. “Certain information has come to our attention, Dr. Talbot, that makes us question the future value of yourself and your associate, Reverend Washington, to this ministry. As a matter of fact, this is an understatement. The information of which I speak convinces us that you and your associate are unfit to be associated with this ministry and that if this information should become public knowledge it would lead to the destruction of this church and put an end forever to all its potential to continue its work to bring the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ to the people of America.”

  Preacher’s voice was calm. “I presume you have that information of which you speak available.”

  “Of course,” Randle s
aid. He opened his folder and pushed a bound report to Ryker, who in turn handed it to Preacher.

  Preacher opened the report and looked down at it. It was a report by a well-known private detective firm. The subject of the report was Reverend Josephus Washington aka Ali Elijah. The brief summary of the report contained in a paragraph stated that Joe had committed acts of violence while a member of the Black Muslims and had been on the wanted list of the FBI, and that during that time he had been living with a woman, Leah Turner, who bore him two children. Recently he was married to a Beverly Lee.

  He closed the report, having read enough. He gestured to the report. “Are these the same people who kidnapped Reverend Washington from his home this morning and are holding him illegally against his will?”

  “Not kidnapped, Dr. Talbot,” Randle said. “Detaining him so that he can be turned over to the authorities.”

  “In that case, why haven’t they done so?”

  “Because I made them aware of the harm that could do to this ministry,” Randle replied. “They are decent Christian men and see no reason to bring harm to many for the crimes of one man, even one as despicable as he.”

  “They are good men,” Preacher said sarcastically. “Of course, you had nothing to do with this affair?”

  Randle stared at him without answering, his mouth tight and grim. He seemed to be scarcely breathing.

  “Do I assume your silence means that you did?”

  “You can assume whatever you please,” Randle said heavily. He took a folded package of papers from in front of him. Ryker picked it up and gave it to Preacher.

  Preacher looked down at it. The green heavy legal binding over the folded papers was an unfiled petition for divorce in the matter of Talbot v. Talbot. He opened the papers. The grounds were repeated and various counts of adultery and cruel and inhuman treatment. He put them down. “My wife told me that under no circumstances would she file for divorce at the present time, no matter what I might hear from anyone, even you.”