The Harvest

by John David Krygelski

  א

  The phone rang at the Bennett residence. Preston Bennett’s wife Debbie snatched it up at mid-ring, trying to stop the noise before it woke Preston. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Debbie, it’s Clay. How’s Preston doing?”

  “Oh, hi, Clay. He’s asleep now. His fever was about 101° the last time I checked.”

  Clayton Dean whistled. “Did you get him to a doctor?”

  “Yeah, they say it’s a virus, but they always say that. I insisted on some Cipro. This just came on so suddenly.”

  “I know. It’s strange. He was fine yesterday.”

  “Clay, I saw the news. Is this Elohim thing what Preston has been involved in the last couple of days?”

  “Yes, it is. I asked him to keep an eye on the situation for me.”

  “What’s it about? This guy thinks he’s God?”

  “We don’t really know yet, Debbie. I mean, yes, he does. We just don’t where it’s going at this point.”

  She knew that he was holding back information. “You’re just like Preston,” she chided. “He never tells me anything until I see it on the news.”

  Laughing, he said, “All right, Debbie, I’d better go. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “I will, Clay, thanks.”

  א

  Mario Bonavente arrived at the Hoover Building through the “perp” route, a secluded driveway to an underground controlled-access garage with a private entrance. Both Margo Jackson and the Cardinal agreed it would be better if the press was not aware of his visit, at least not yet. He also drove a Silver Lexus, rather than the customary chauffeured limousine. Two agents waited as he parked, and escorted him to the hallway outside the interrogation room where Jackson waited.

  “Your Excellency.”

  “Ms. Jackson, please call me Mario. I suspect that we may be working together for a time. We should not be so distant.”

  “Mario, it is. And please call me Margo.”

  “Goodness, we sound like a bad vaudeville team.”

  He shook her hand. Her grip was sturdy and solid, as was her gaze. This was clearly a woman who had worked her way up the hard way to reach her position. Chuckling, she responded, “He’s in here. Shall we go in?”

  “Actually, I’m curious if Professor Johnson is present. I’d like to speak with him for a moment or two.”

  “I’m afraid he and his wife have gone to lunch. They should be back shortly. If I had known…”

  “That’s all right. I don’t mind waiting for him. Is there an office where we can talk until he returns? That is, if you have the time?”

  “Yes. Please, this way.” She took him three doors down and peered in, to make certain it was not in use. Pushing the door open farther, she said, “This should do.”

  They both went in and sat on the two straight-back chairs in front of the desk. Bonavente spoke first. “Do you mind my asking if you are a Catholic?”

  “Not at all, and no, I was raised a Lutheran.”

  “The Lutherans. A splendid church…a marvelous faith.”

  “They’re idiots.”

  Taken aback for a moment, the Cardinal could not help but burst out laughing. “Idiots?”

  “Maybe it was just the particular church my family attended, but it felt more like a hippie commune than a church. I’ve always craved structure and rules…reward and punishment. One time I asked the minister for advice. I was a teenager, and my boyfriend wanted me to ‘go all the way.’ I asked the minister what I should do, hoping deep in my heart that he would tell me it was a sin and that I’d go to hell if I did it. Instead, he asked me to look within myself and find the answer. I told him that if I had the answer, I wouldn’t be there. So he said that love was a beautiful part of life and that we shouldn’t miss an opportunity to feel its joy.”

  “He told you ‘If it feels good, do it’?”

  “Basically! I never went back.”

  “Have you ever considered our faith?”

  “I did. I also thought about Orthodox Judaism. It seemed that both had a pretty firm set of standards.”

  “Why didn’t you join us?”

  “I joined the Marines instead.”

  Again Mario rocked back with laughter. “I imagine that you found all of the structure you needed there.”

  “I did. And when I left the Marine Corps, I went back to school, got my law degree, and came to work at the agency. I’ve been here ever since. I haven’t once felt a void that needed to be filled.”

  “You are doing God’s work as much as I, perhaps more.”

  “I like to think so.” She pulled her cell phone off her belt and punched in a speed-dial number. Someone answered immediately. “Craig, Margo, is Johnson back? Good, bring him to 12C, please.” Snapping the phone closed, she said to Mario, “He’ll be right here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Less than a minute later there was a knock on the door. Margo jumped up to answer. McWilliams stood outside with Reese in tow. “Professor Johnson, we haven’t met yet. I’m Margo Jackson.”

  Shaking her hand, Reese said, “A pleasure to meet you. I have gotten tired of saying this – if you could arrange for a sign I could wear around my neck or a memo to everyone – my name is Reese…please.”

  “Reese, it is. Please come in. I’d like you to meet Cardinal Bonavente. He’d like a few words with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Stepping into the room, Reese extended his hand and started to speak, but the Cardinal was quicker. “I overheard your comment. Reese, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Mario.”

  Reese and Mario took the two chairs in front of the desk, and Margo Jackson started to leave.

  “No, Margo,” said Bonavente, “please stay. I would prefer your presence.”

  “All right,” she said, taking the only available seat behind the desk.

  The priest turned back to Johnson. “Please, sir, I have much to catch up on. Could you fill me in?” Reese glanced at the Assistant Director. She nodded.

  Reese told his story in as much detail as he could recall, in chronological sequence, only leaving out a few of the personal details. The Cardinal sat impassively throughout the recitation, showing only the slightest emotion when Reese described the appearance of his lost manuscript. Finishing, Reese said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you something?”

  “Please.”

  “How is Kerry Coughlin?”

  Looking saddened, Mario answered, “He’s completely withdrawn, ‘detached’ is probably the clinical description. We’ve had a psychiatrist in to see him. He doesn’t even respond to physical stimuli.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I also wanted to ask what the Pope’s position is on this?”

  “As far as I know, he does not yet have one. Perhaps my visit here will help him to decide.” The Cardinal leaned forward. Closely watching Reese’s face, he asked, “Tell me, is Elohim our God?”

  Reese felt a certain surreal quality in the question, considering that it came from a cardinal of the Catholic Church. Not that the last two days had been normal. “Mario, my wife asked me the same question at lunch. I’ll give you the same answer. Elohim is not an ordinary man; he is not a mortal as we understand it. My dilemma is this: if I grant that he has supernatural powers, how can I tell if he is God, or something evil?”

  “Lucifer?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Reese, you are wise to be concerned. This is precisely the type of trap that he would love to spring upon all of us. Are you familiar with the Rites of Exorcism?”

  “I am. I’ve studied them at length. Are you proposing an exorcism?”

  “I don’t know at this point. You asked the question and that is the only answer which comes to mind. I do not believe Lucifer could withstand the ritual without betraying himself.”

  “Have you ever performed the Rites?”

  “I have not. I have never even seen them perform
ed. However, if it appears to be the appropriate course of action, and with His Holiness’ approval, the Vatican can certainly provide men who have.”

  Margo Jackson broke in, “Guys, this is getting a little freaky. I’m not sure that we should be turning this into a circus sideshow.”

  Reese responded before the Cardinal could speak. “Margo, the practice of exorcism is hardly a sideshow act. The Church is incredibly conservative in its application, and the documentation of its history is quite convincing.”

  “Reese, that’s not what I mean. No matter what is logical, proper, or correct, I have to keep one eye on the politics. The press is already whipped into a frenzy over this, thanks to Coughlin. Performing an exorcism within FBI headquarters sounds like a bad tabloid headline or the subject of a crackpot conspiracy theory.”

  Mario replied, “I understand. I’m not suggesting that an exorcism is even needed. And if, by chance, it is – I would not want it to be performed here.”

  “Then where?” she asked.

  “The Vatican.”

  “The Vatican?” Reese blurted. “Mario, exorcisms have been performed in private bedrooms, caves, occasionally a local parish. Why would you need to do it in the Vatican?”

  “In all of the documented cases with which I am familiar, the possessed have claimed to be many things…from demons to the devil himself. I have never read of a case where the possessed claimed to be God. I have also never read of a case where the possessed performed miracles such as those you have described. It is the opinion of the Church that the spirits exorcized in the past have been malignant spirits, possibly demons. I must still meet with him myself, but from what you have described, to achieve what Elohim has accomplished, either he is that which he says or he is possessed by Lucifer himself. If it is Lucifer, I am afraid we would need all of the holy power that resides within the Vatican to vanquish him.

  “I remind you both, none of this even approaches a suggested course of action. Reese, you asked me how to be sure. The only answer of which I am aware is an exorcism. Now, may I meet him?”

  As the three filed out of the room, Margo muttered under her breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mario Bonavente stood outside the glass, staring at Elohim for the longest time. Elohim sat still, as he generally did, gazing off into the distance. He rarely even shifted in his chair. “Fascinating,” the Cardinal muttered to no one. After several more silent minutes, Mario turned to Reese and said, “You must accompany me in.”

  “But, Cardinal, I mean Mario, Elohim will speak of things in your life that only you know. There were details of my life I did not share with you earlier, details Elohim disclosed to me. If you go in alone, he will respect your privacy.”

  “I know. I have already heard about the monitor speakers going dead at selective times. Reese, I am sure there are some aspects of my life that would be embarrassing if discussed. I do not have the impression that Elohim merely wants to embarrass. If there is anything else he feels should be brought out, I have no problem with you being present to hear it. I would prefer that to not having a witness.”

  “Very well.” Reese turned and glanced at Claire, who smiled at him lovingly. “Let’s go.”

  Reese entered the room first, with Bonavente following behind. “Elohim, this is Cardinal Bonavente.”

  Elohim looked past Reese, directly at Mario. “I know the Cardinal well. It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency.” He extended his hand.

  The priest hesitated, holding back, and said, “Elohim, it is also a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about you. Because I have heard so much, I ask that you forgive me for not taking your hand at this time.”

  Dropping his hand back to his side, Elohim said, “Of course, you wish to remain objective.”

  “I do.”

  “That is understandable.”

  “And there is another reason.”

  “And that is?”

  “If you are who you claim to be, I am not worthy of touching your hand. If you are not, I have no desire to.”

  Elohim took his seat. “My child, if or when you reach the conclusion that I am your Creator, you are more than worthy. Please, sit.”

  Reese and Mario sat across from him. Elohim spoke first. “Cardinal Bonavente, how would you have me answer your prayer?”

  Mario raised an eyebrow quizzically and asked, “I’m sorry?”

  “You prayed to me just before you came in. You confessed your sins and asked my forgiveness. Cardinal, your sins in any other man would be virtues and need no forgiveness. You prayed to my Son, asking Him to give you the strength to fulfill your responsibilities to the Church honorably. You prayed asking me to have mercy on Kerry Coughlin. You prayed…asking me to give you the wisdom to know what to do and to know if you are being deceived. I ask again, how would you have me answer your prayer?”

  Elohim’s words did not fluster the Cardinal. With a slight smile on his face, he replied, “I ask you to grant them, as you always have.”

  Elohim laughed, a deep and hearty laugh. “Cardinal Bonavente, you have always been one of my favorites.” Turning to Reese, Elohim explained, “From the time that Cardinal Bonavente was just Mari, a precocious seven-year-old in Philadelphia, he has played a game with me. If he found a discarded baseball mitt in a trash can, he would take it home and hide it under his bed. At bedtime, as he said his prayers for his mother, he would ask me for a baseball mitt. The next morning he would pull it out from under his bed and show his mother that God had answered his prayer, ‘as He always had.’ All through his life he has done the same thing…asking for the intelligence to pass an exam, the strength to excel at a track meet, the courage to face the unknown…all of which he already possessed. And after each successful test of his intelligence, strength, or courage, he would pray to me and thank me for answering his prayers…as I always had.”

  Turning back to Bonavente, Elohim said, “Bless you, my son. You have given me great joy for these many years.”

  “Elohim, the joy has been all mine. It appears that my joy may be coming to an end.”

  “An end? Surely you do not believe that you will not join me in Heaven?”

  “I trust in Your judgment; if that is my fate, then so be it. But I have not lived my life solely to earn that reward; I have dedicated myself to being Your servant. Serving You and my Lord, Jesus Christ, has been rewarding beyond my ability to describe. I never dreamed that You would come during my lifetime and end my work when there is still so much to do.”

  Tears welled up in Elohim’s eyes, overflowing and running down his cheeks until they fell to the table. Reese watched as Mario reached across the table and touched the small puddle with his fingertip, raising it to his lips. After tasting the tears of Elohim, the Cardinal rose from his seat and walked around the table until he was at Elohim’s side. He knelt before him and bowed. Elohim reached out, still tearful, and extended his hand to the holy man. Reese watched as Cardinal Bonavente took the hand of Elohim in his own and shuddered with ecstasy.

  א

  Dexter Mills was at his desk, remote in hand, riveted to the cable news channels. Ever since Archbishop Coughlin’s statement, all of the stations had been obsessive/compulsive about the story, endlessly repeating the few tidbits they had in an effort to get it just right. Other than the Margo Jackson press conference, which did little to confirm or deny any of the theories flying about, the media had been unable to find any source who had direct knowledge of this Elohim. Even prior to Jackson’s announcement, Dexter was already certain that Reese was involved. Now that his involvement was confirmed, all of the stations, mainly due to the lack of information on Elohim, turned their attention to Reese.

  It seemed to Dexter that every person who had ever been a critic of Reese Johnson had been found by one of the networks. His books were picked apart with many statements taken out of context, making them appear inflammatory when they were not. The Harvard incident was rehashe
d repeatedly and inaccurately. None of the interviews included anyone from the Harvard administration who could have shed light on the actual events.