by Ted Dekker
They approached Joey’s cottage unseen as far as Jan could tell. Overgrowth crowded the dirt driveway that snaked along the property’s bordering twelve-foot hedge. Tall oaks surrounded the small wooden structure, foreboding in the failing light. A yellow Ford Pinto sat on a gravel bed beside a house shrouded in foliage. The shades were pulled, but light glowed beyond them. It was six o’clock; Joey would be home from his day in the garden.
They climbed from the car, unspeaking. Vines crawled over the red brick. Green vines with large white flowers. They stood still and gazed at the sight. Ivena’s flowers covered the side of the house; Jan could not mistake them.
Ivena walked for them without a word. She touched a blossom and turned back, her eyes round. Jan led Helen up the steps. Joey opened the door before their first knock. “Jan? Well, my goodness. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Forgive me, Joey. We—”
“Come in, come in.” The short man swept a thin arm into his home. “I didn’t say I didn’t want company. Only that I wasn’t expecting it.”
They walked in and Joey closed the door.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Actually, Joey, this isn’t exactly a social visit. I mean it is, but not like you might expect. I’m afraid we’re in a bit of trouble.”
“The flowers have done well, I see,” Ivena said.
Joey smiled. “Yes. Yes they have.” They looked at each other but said no more.
Joey turned back to Jan and Helen. “Well, well, please sit down.” He hurried around the small living room, straightening rust-colored cushions on a green rattan couch and a matching chair. A stone fireplace ate up half the floor space, but the decor was surprisingly colorful and cozy. Then again, Joey was a gardener—he would favor beauty.
He sat on the washed stone mantel. “So you are in some trouble. Tell me.”
He listened while they spun their story, hearing it from beginning to end in one sitting, Saying it aloud, Jan was struck by its absurdity. This tale of love and horror, it sounded impossible in this land of peace. And to think, not four miles away construction was already in progress on the castle he was building for his bride. He looked at Helen—at the amber light shining in her glassy eyes—and a hand seemed to squeeze his heart. God’s hand, he thought.
Joey kept looking at him as if checking to make sure it was really him, the author he knew. He could only nod. But in the end Joey insisted that they would be safe here. At least for a day while they decided what to do. Although they would have to manage with two bedrooms. Joey would take the couch.
He offered them bowls of a beef stew and they talked over a dozen options, none of which made any sense to Jan. The situation seemed impossible. Walking into a man’s place of business and shooting him wasn’t exactly self-defense. At the very least Jan needed to contact an attorney. In fact, why not drive to the police station right then and turn himself in? Yes indeed, why not? It seemed their only option.
Jan finally set his bowl on the coffee table and sighed. “I think there’s only one thing that makes sense. But it’s not Helen who’s angered Glenn now. It’s me. And he’s made a direct threat against you, Ivena. There’s only one way to ensure your safety.”
“And what of you?”
“Please hear me out. If I were to contact the police and demand protective custody for you I believe they’d give it. You’ve already lodged a complaint. They can’t ignore you now.”
“So you want them to put me in jail?”
“You’ve done nothing wrong; they wouldn’t put you in jail.”
“But you have, Janjic. You have assaulted this man. They will put you in jail for that.”
“Maybe. But then a prison may be the safest place for me. Until they unravel the truth.”
“The truth is you shot a man,” Helen said. “Regardless of what Glenn has done, they won’t let that slide.”
They looked at each other. “Either way I’ll face consequences. If I can bring a detective here to hear our story we’ll at least buy protection for Ivena. Do you have any doubt that Glenn will hurt Ivena?”
“No. But you’re putting a lot of confidence in the police, aren’t you? We’re safe from him here.”
“And how long do you think we can stay here? I have business expected of me. By midday tomorrow they’ll be scouring the country for my whereabouts. I see no alternative. In the morning I’ll call the detective who took Ivena’s statement. What was his name?”
“Mr. Wilks,” Ivena said. “Charlie Wilks.”
“I wouldn’t trust a soul,” Helen said. “I’m telling you, if you think turning yourself in to the police is the way to go on this, then you don’t know Glenn. He’s got connections. You should call an attorney.”
“I will. But first I will use my own contacts,” Jan said. He stood and walked to the black telephone that hung on the wall.
“Who?”
He picked up the receiver. “Roald. Perhaps my estranged friend can pull a trick from his hat yet.”
DETECTIVE CHARLIE Wilks was at his office desk at nine o’clock Tuesday morning when the third light on his phone lit to an annoying buzz. He punched the flashing cube. “Wilks.”
“Detective Wilks, this is Jan Jovic.”
Charlie sat up. “Jovic?” He glanced through the open door of his office. A dozen desks filled the gap, occupied by other detectives with lessor seniority.
“Yes. I have something—”
“Hold on. Could you hold on?”
“Yes.”
Charlie rose from his desk, closed the door and returned. “Sorry about that. Where are you, Mr. Jovic?”
“I’m safe, if that’s what you mean.”
The man’s voice carried a foreign accent. Safe? “You do realize that I have a citywide APB on you as we speak. I’m not sure what the laws are like back in your country, but here in America shooting a man’s hands off is a crime. Are the others with you?”
The man hesitated a moment. “Others?”
“We have Helen and this Ivena who are also missing. I’m assuming they’re with you.”
“Yes. And Ivena reported her complaint to you yesterday, is that right?”
“Of course. But surely you understand that until I’ve had a chance to examine her claims, my hands are tied. In the meantime, I have seen Mr. Lutz’s hands with my own eyes.”
“All in good time, my friend. I want you to guarantee Ivena and Helen protective custody. When you hear their stories you will see that it is Glenn Lutz, not I, you should be searching for.”
“I know where Glenn Lutz is. In fact I spoke to him this morning. You, on the other hand, I do not. You’re only making things worse for yourself. Just tell me where you are and I’ll hear you out.”
“I will. But not until tomorrow morning. Until then, please do not make more of this than is absolutely necessary. I’m not a man without influence, Mr. Wilks. You may expect a call tomorrow.”
The phone went abruptly dead.
Charlie’s pulse spiked. He immediately punched up another line and dialed a string of numbers. Who would’ve guessed that a man with the backbone to shoot Glenn Lutz would cave so easily. Then again, Jovic had no reason to mistrust the police.
His friend’s familiar voice spoke over the receiver. “Yes?”
“Hello, Glenn. I have some news.”
“You do, do you? For your sake, Charlie, it better be good.”
“See now, why are you always so hostile?” Charlie leaned back in his chair, confident. “He called.”
Glenn’s heavy breathing cut short. “The preacher called?”
“He wants to meet with me tomorrow morning. Ivena and Helen are with him.”
“Where?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. But he will.”
The sound of Lutz’s breathing filled the earpiece again. “And you’ll tell me, won’t you?” A few more loud breaths. “Won’t you, Charlie?”
The man was clearly sick. “A hundred grand? Th
at’s what you said you’d pay if you need my help, right? I’d call this helping.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You’ll be my first call,” Charlie said, grinning. “I’ll even give you an hour head start.”
“You just call me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE SKIES boiled black over Atlanta that evening, threatening rain before the traffic ended its rush. Jan parked the Cadillac in an alley two blocks from the ministry and climbed out. He was counting on his call to Detective Wilks buying him some time. If there was a police car watching the building for his return, this visit might backfire.
Jan scanned the street, saw no sign of the police, and stepped onto the sidewalk. He buried his hands in his pockets and walked with his head lowered. The employees should all have gone home by now, but there was always a chance that someone from the neighborhood would recognize him.
Jan had left Helen and Ivena at Joey’s cottage nearly three hours ago. He’d made a pass by his street, hoping to retrieve a fresh change of clothes for he and Helen, but the police cruiser parked across the road had changed his mind. Ivena’s house was also being watched. He’d opted for Woolworth’s instead. Helen would have to live with the white dress he’d selected. It was a size five and the salesclerk had assured him that five was a good size for a small woman. He bought himself nothing.
He glanced up. The street was clear of cars. Evidently the police were more concerned with the houses than the ministry. Or perhaps it was the late hour.
Jan veered into the alley adjacent to the ministry building and walked for a steel fire door. “Don’t let me down, Roald,” he muttered. “Please not now.”
He pulled the handle and the door swung out. A chill of relief washed down his back. He entered the dark hall, felt his way to the stairwell, and took the stairs two at a time. Red exit signs showed the way, but eight floors winded him and he paused at the top landing to catch his breath.
He pushed his way into the familiar office suite. He heard the voices immediately and knew that Roald had come through. He had not seen their cars, which meant they’d parked on the back street as he’d requested.
The conference room door was open and Jan walked in.
They were all there, and they looked at him as one. Roald, Karen, and Betty. Frank and Barney Givens, as well. He’d asked Roald for the council’s attendance if possible; whether Frank and Barney had flown in or happened to be in the city, Jan did not know. Two of the four were here. And Betty was here as a representative from the ministry. The employees would want to know the truth once it hit the street, and he intended they receive it through Betty.
“Good evening, my friends,” Jan said with a slight smile.
Roald sat at the head of the long table, frowning, his glasses riding the end of his nose. Beside him Karen leaned back with folded arms. Frank and Barney sat stoically to the left and Betty smiled warmly on his right.
“You’d better sit, Jan,” Roald said.
“Hello, Roald. It’s a pleasure to see you as well.” A voice of caution whispered through Jan’s mind. They were not reacting with the concern he’d imagined. Betty was smiling, but the others were not even cordial. “I was under the impression that I called this meeting. Why do I feel like I’ve walked into a snake pit here?” Jan asked, still standing.
“Oh, no, Jan,” Betty said. She glanced around nervously. “How could you say—”
“You have something to say, say your piece,” Roald interrupted.
Jan glared at him. “Thanks, Betty. Okay, Roald, I will.” He pulled a chair out on Betty’s side and sat. “Thank you for coming, Frank and Barney. Karen.” They nodded in turn but offered no formal greeting.
“By your stiff lips I gather you’ve heard about the incident yesterday.”
No reaction.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I also know that from the beginning you haven’t understood my relationship with Helen. No, let me rephrase that—from the beginning most of you have detested my relationship with Helen. Well, now the balance has shifted, because now I’ve been forced to do some things I’m not proud of. Something you may think will tarnish my image. But if you will just open your minds for a few minutes, I sincerely believe that you’ll see things differently.”
They sat and stared at him without responding.
Jan shifted his eyes from Roald. “Frank, three months ago you and Barney and the others from the council warned me about the delicate nature of my image as a church spokesman, and I will say that I questioned your judgment at the time. But I see some truth in your assessment now. ‘To whom much is given, much is required,’ I believe that was your quote. There were greater concerns at stake besides my own issues, you said. Concerns of the church. The ministry, for example. The Dance of the Dead. An opportunity to reach millions with a message of God’s love. You wanted me to subordinate my own needs to the greater good of the church, isn’t that right?”
Frank’s eyes flickered and Jan spoke on.
“Well now perhaps there is an opportunity for you, all of you”—he glanced about the table—“to subordinate your own issues to the greater concerns of the church. To The Dance of the Dead. Perhaps now it’s time for you to support me and my ministry, because, believe me, no one else will. What you’ve heard is true. I shot this madman Glenn Lutz in his hands, with his own gun, but only because he threatened to kill Ivena. Only because he’s a monster of unearthly magnitude. And if you really knew—”
“We know more than you think we know,” Roald interrupted.
“Meaning what?” A spike of anger rode Jan’s spine.
“Are you finished?”
This was not going as planned. He had intended on laying out the whole scenario as he knew it to be. He’d come confident that they would hear him out and rally to his defense. But Roald did not seem to possess a soft bone in his body. Which seemed beyond even Jan. Karen had hardly moved since his entrance. Not that he expected any huge favors from her. Betty was the only one who showed a sympathetic spirit, but Betty did not possess the power these others did.
“No, I’m not finished. But you’re obviously not understanding my point here, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind, Roald.” He bit down hard and suppressed an urge to walk over there and knock his head against the wall.
“Fine, I will. While you’ve been busy hiding from the police, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of, we’ve been busy trying to salvage your career. This goes much deeper than you realize, my naive friend. You have some problems, and now by association we have some problems.”
“You think I don’t know this? What—”
“The contract we signed with Dreamscape has some problems.”
“The contract? What does the contract have to do with this? I thought they said it was virtually identical to the old one.”
“Virtually, yes. But not exactly. It has a clause relating to morality that has come to our attention.”
“Morality. And how does morality affect us in this contract?”
“That depends. It contains a clause that gives Dreamscape the right to pull the plug in the event that the moral character of the story’s subject comes under question at any time before the movie’s release date. The subject of the picture is you, Jan.”
The statement dropped in Jan’s mind like a small bomb. He blinked. “My moral integrity? What does that mean? They’re already taking exception to my mistake yesterday? Or is it you, who are making more—”
“Not the shooting, you idiot! Stupid as that was—”
“Please don’t interrupt me, Roald!” Jan said. “At least give me that courtesy.”
“Of course.”
“And if it’s not the shooting, then what?”
Roald didn’t respond. Frank did. “It’s the woman, Jan. You were warned about her, weren’t you?”
Jan’s mind swam, too stunned to piece their reason together.
“I told you she wa
s a risk,” Roald snapped. Karen still hadn’t spoken. She simply rocked back in her chair, arms still folded. Roald continued. “The studio is putting millions on the table, producing a picture that views the world through an exceptional lens—the eye of Jan Jovic, a man who has learned of love through the brutal lessons of war. And now they discover their hero is living with a . . . an unseemly woman. I told you she was a bad idea, didn’t I? I sat right here and told you that this junkie of yours could ruin everything. And did you listen? No. Instead you go off and marry her, of all things!”
“And you know nothing, Roald!”
“No, of course I don’t. That’s why you ignored my advice to begin with. Because I know nothing. And you, the white crusader, know everything.”
“Okay, guys,” Karen said. “We’re still on the same side here.”
“Are we?” Roald shot back. “I’m on the side of getting this movie made, of getting this message out. And frankly I don’t know what side Jan’s on anymore.”
“I’m on the side of love,” Jan said. “The same side you were on at one time. It’s the heart and soul of my story.”
“Well, now your love is going to get The Dance of the Dead canceled. Your relationship with Helen undermines your moral authority.”
The notion felt like a sick joke to Jan. “We’re married, for heaven’s sake! How could morality be an issue in marriage?”
Roald shook his head. “You really should have listened to me. It’s the appearance of evil that matters, Jan. How are they going to sell a movie about one man’s discovery of God and morality when his morals are in question? Isn’t that what I told you?”
“And I’m asking you how my morality is in question!”
“Because appearances do matter, Jan. And your . . . wife does not give off the best appearances!”
Jan wanted to strike the man with his fist. He rose and stood against the conference table, shaking with rage.
“Now you want to shoot me like you did Mr. Lutz?” Roald asked.
“Okay, Roald,” Karen said. “You’ve made your point.” She turned to Jan and her eyes were emotionless. “Sit down, Jan.”
