Part 24 (1/2)
Perhaps we should be paying more attention to what the broadcast has said: ”For a.s.sistance, contact Oliver Vale.”
Perhaps he has been chosen as liaison between us and Whomever. Like in that old movie with the giant chandelier.
The radio says that the Ganymede signal has not repeated itself since it began. Technology aside, no human being would have the patience to create three days of that.
But whatever he is, human or alien, Oliver is my friend. And I wish that I could help him.
RICHTER.
Early Monday, his leg and mind well rested, Richter left his Lawton hotel room and drove to the Comanche County sheriff's office. There he presented his FCC identification and asked to see all reports of regional ”Oliver Vale sightings.” He made it clear that, for security reasons, there was to be no record of his visit.
Most of the ”Vale sighting” reports were the ravings of crackpots, but two caught his eye. The first stated that an elderly couple had spotted Vale at two-thirty in the morning, and that he had been in the company of a muscular woman. The second stated that a housewife had observed a certain Peter Holden hauling a motorcycle on his flatbed truck a short time later.
Richter hadn't seen the vehicle that had stopped at the rest area while he had been hiding under the Jaguar, but its engine noise had been that of a truck. It could have been a flatbed.
He handed the second report to the sheriff. ”Directions to Holden's,” he said. The sheriff shook his head. ”Don't bother. A deputy checked this out, and it turned out to be nothing.”
He chuckled. ”Lucky for that Vale character that hewasn't there. My deputy says Holden's got himself a big old Doberman that like to bit his arm off.”
Richter's leg began throbbing.
”Directions,” he said.
He would have them this time, and since he was no longer on the a.s.signment, he would have no one to answer to for what he did.
They wouldn't even know that he was coming.
Except that, somehow, they did. He was driving slowly, looking at names on mailboxes to be sure he found the right place, when a white muscle car exploded from a stand of trees and came at him. It happened so quickly that he couldn't see who was inside, and he was barely able to swerve to the edge of the road in time to avoid a collision.
Then he saw Vale. He swerved back, hoping to block the motorcycle or hit it, but he was too late.
Ahead of him, standing beside a mailbox, was the dog who could spit bullets.
For an instant Richter was torn-but if he stopped to try to kill the Doberman, Vale would disappear yet again. Richter turned the Jaguar around and pursued. The muscle car and the motorcycle were already out of sight, but that meant nothing. This time the chase was in daylight. He would find them again soon.
And when he did, he would not aim for the tires.
SKYVUE.
The two smiling, dark-suited ministers of the Corps of Little David emerged from the projection room, Khrushchev glared at them.
”Everything all right?” Eisenhower asked.
”All of our equipment is in working order, praise the Lord,” the taller minister said. ”Satan's h.e.l.lish waves have no effect on our video projector.”
”The Reverend Willard blessed it before we brought it up from Oklahoma City,” the second minister said.
”Satan's h.e.l.lish waves wouldn't bother it regardless of whether it was blessed,” Khrushchev said. ”It's closed circuit, without broadcast reception capability, right?”
The tall man nodded. ”Indeed, brother-”
Khrushchev growled. Eisenhower elbowed him. ”-for the Reverend Willard wishes to be seen and heard by all in this community and the surrounding region who wish to see and hear him. Even as he stands atop this building, preaching courage during this campaign of the Antichrist, his image shall be relayed from our cameras to the projector, and thence to the screen of this theater, larger than life, a beacon of Truth-”
Khrushchev put a finger into his mouth and made gagging noises.
The minister stared. ”I beg your pardon?”
”My a.s.sociate is grumpy because he hasn't been able to watch reruns ofMy Mother the Car on his five-inch color set since Satan's broadcast commenced,” Eisenhower said.
”And if you jerks broke that little TV while you were futzing around in there,” Khrushchev added, ”you can forget about getting your deposit back.”
The second minister cleared his throat. ”I believe we agreed on a rental fee of six thousand dollars.” He handed Eisenhower a check.
”That's right,” Eisenhower said. ”You do understand that we can't provide security officers?”
”No matter,” the tall man said. ”The Corps of Little David will provide its own security. After all, the Reverend William Willard himself will be here.”
”Weknow, weknow,” Khrushchev said. ”And we aren't going to collect the admission fees for you either.”
”We wouldn't want you to,” the second minister said. ”We'll have a member of our Ladies' Auxiliary in the ticket booth.”
”And I believe that concludes our business for now,” the tall man said. ”I trust that our equipment, tools, and accessories will remain undisturbed until our projectionist arrives.”
”Of course,” Eisenhower said.
”a.s.suming that the blessing holds up until then,” Khrushchev muttered.
The two ministers left.
Eisenhower regarded Khrushchev sternly.
”What'reyou looking at?” Khrushchev snarled.
”Are you trying to ruin everything?” Eisenhower asked. ”What if they'd taken offense and called the thing off?”
”I'd be delighted. As it is, this place is gonna be packed with several thousand w.i.l.l.yites who'll be whipped into a frenzy by their Fearless Leader's apocalyptic hysteria. It's bad enough that your Buddy Holly stunt has instigated violence in major metropolitan areas, but now it's going to happen out here in the sticks too.” Eisenhower looked thoughtful. ”Could be,” he said.
”Doesn't that bother you?” Khrushchev bellowed. ”Don't youcare?”
”Yes.”
”Then why let Bill w.i.l.l.y come to our birthplace and pollute it until it's as rotten as the rest of the fleshbound world?”