“As for the bomb—” Corkery’s smile was smug. He knew he’d impressed Russell. “The maker’s as good as his reputation. He demonstrated the detonator for me, without explosives, of course. You’d love his work.”
He paused. “But now let’s see more money. I need it. The arrangements have not been made without risk and cost.”
“You’ve kept records of expenses, of course,” Russell said. “With receipts.”
“Receipts?” The pseudo-friendly voice had turned sharp, fierce, hissing the word. “It’s murder we’re talking here, not commerce.”
Corkery’s sudden ferocity threw Russell off stride, but after a moment he answered, stiffly. “The people financing this are not ours. They do things differently. They want receipts.”
Corkery’s voice softened, but an edge remained. “Tell me, Jackie boy, which do they prefer? Receipts, or Ngunda Aran dead?” As he spoke, a large hard finger, an Irish farmboy’s finger, poked Russell’s shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. “Because I will not give them both. The murdered guru is receipt enough.” He paused, then finished. “Tell me now, and let me see the next five thousand. See and take!”
Jack Russell’s lips were always thin. Now they’d disappeared entirely. Reaching into his inside breast pocket, he removed a thick wallet, and spreading it, exposed the money. Corkery’s fingers snapped sharply, demanding. Grimly, reluctantly, Russell removed the money and handed it over. In the shelter of the pew in front of them, Corkery counted the bills, then put them inside his own jacket.
“And now, Mr. Russell,” he murmured, “I’m curious about your plans for the Holy Father. I suppose you’ve seen the news about his meeting with your dear friend, Mr. Aran . . . Ah, I see you have. And while assassinating a pope hardly compares to assassinating a messiah, it’s important in its way.”
Russell managed to stiffen even more. “The plan is progressing nicely. Beyond that, I cannot talk about it.”
“Have you considered a bomb? Bombs can be nice, if properly built and used. I could introduce you to my friend. He designs according to need. Besides, I like the concept: hiring a Shia Muslim to kill the Holy Father, in order to rescue the integrity of the Church. A lovely irony!”
Russell could stand the man no longer. Rising, he sidled to the aisle and left the building, his stomach burning. It would be the next day before he could keep food down.
PART TWO
DISORDERS BUILD
28
The Labor Department this morning reported November’s unemployment at 20 percent, up 3 percent in the last month. Despite being braced for the expected bad news, Wall Street showed signs of panic. By midday, consumer product shares, already seriously depressed, had fallen an average of 5½ points on the New York Exchange, while major industrials dropped an average of 7½.
At 2:30, heavy selling pressures brought an abrupt plunge, and the floor was closed to trading. It was the worst day on Wall Street since 1933.
Headline News
Atlanta GA,
Dec. 11
Lee Shoreff was tenser than anyone else at the Millennium all-hands staff meeting, the first in her two-and-a-half months at the Cote. She was afraid of losing her job. She knew that what she did was valuable to the organization. It was an awareness abundantly validated by her marvelous office, robust paychecks, and personal treatment by everyone involved.
But she’d never allowed herself to be fully convinced.
Now Wall Street was foundering, and surely she’d been adjudged a luxury they could postpone. There was going to be a reduction in force, and she’d be the first to go. Ben would probably be RIF’d too—last hired, first fired—and they’d get hauled off to Pueblo to a cheap motel. There they’d buy a used car and go—where?
On top of that, the weather was in tune with the economy, an ill omen, if you were into omens. Dry snow fell thickly, had been since early evening of the day before, and the temperature stood at −4 degrees Fahrenheit, with a windchill of −18.
She overlooked entirely that they’d been blessed with one of the warmest, driest autumns of record there. And that truck farmers along the Arkansas River, not too many miles east, had been praying for snow, to fill the reservoirs when the thaws arrived in April—and May, June and July, depending on slope direction, elevation, and weather.