Seductive Poison (22 page)

Fuck these bastards …

I opened a new tape and quietly inserted it into the recorder. My hands were shaking and I prayed Jim hadn’t seen. I was nervous. I
fought with myself and against the things I was hearing. The editor’s voice never ceased. I kept on hoping the article would end, that these indictments against Father would cease, but they continued and only got worse.

“‘Why Jim Jones Should Be Investigated …’”

Jim muffled a gasp and began scribbling another note. My heart was breaking for our leader. He did not deserve this terrible onslaught.

“‘It is literally impossible to guess how much money and property people gave Jim Jones in the twelve years since he moved his Peoples Temple to California.’”

I looked up from the revolving tape. How could anyone trust a defector? Doesn’t the world know that these traitors have forsaken all our ideals, that now they could only lie? That these people were working for the CIA? We knew from Jim that they had stolen money from the church coffers, molested their children, and done innumerable vile things. I grabbed the note Father was handing me.

We leave tonight. Notify Georgetown.

My heart took a leap. We would finally all be in the Promised Land. About 600 of us had already left and some 800 more nationwide were still waiting for Father’s invitation.

Not everyone was invited. My brother Larry, for example, was not welcome. Even though Larry was a dedicated member, Jim had a profound resentment against him. The reason, I presume, was the fact that Larry had been the first husband of Carolyn and still was the husband of Karen, the two women Jim chose as his closest aides. Jim was intensely jealous because Karen and Larry were still fond of each other. (Only recently, I found out that Karen was pregnant with Larry’s child when she perished in Jonestown.)

With Jim’s and Maria’s departure there would be ten members of the Planning Commission left for now. Jim’s wife, Marceline, was also going to stay behind. Her usual role was to keep the fortress strong during Jim’s absences and show the members that she, too, was a staunch believer. Today I know, however, that she was secretly afraid for her children and kept silent about Jim’s infidelities only to be near them and hopefully protect them. But once the boys were old enough, Jim separated them from her by sending them to Jonestown.

I looked around the dark room. Maria was sitting at Carolyn’s
feet. Teresa was sitting with her legs crossed, her knee touching me. I leaned over to hand Teresa the tape recorder, showed her the note, and nodded in compliance at Father. Then I rushed up the stairs to the radio room, exhilarated. The excitement was back! Danger loomed nearer! Father was trusting me. He was depending on me, Carolyn, and Teresa to maintain the fortress. I would have “trusted status” and the opportunity to perform acts of heroism. I was being left behind to protect the Cause and close down the operation! I’ll have breakfast with Mama tomorrow, I decided.

8
Exodus to Paradise

It took us half the night to help Jim orchestrate his exodus. At Carolyn’s instruction I ran over to her room to get a few more items. Rifling through her dresser drawer, I came upon a diaphragm. Bewildered, I wondered what on earth she was keeping the contraceptive for. We were celibate and Father maintained that he used sex only to save lives. Could Father possibly say one thing and practice another? No, it couldn’t be and furthermore it was not my place to question. Jim had to do things for the Cause that I could never begin to understand. But then again, if he had to have sex it only made sense that it would be with Carolyn, whom he entrusted with all his thoughts and who knew as much about the organization as he. After all, she had been his mistress in their last life together.

When it was time to leave for the airport, I carried one of Maria’s various duffel bags to the parking lot. As always our guards were there, “pulling their shift” in the dark, surveying the perimeters, and ensuring that no one was monitoring our activities. I loved these men and women. They worked long, hard hours protecting us from the evil forces outside our confines. They wore mittens and puffy down jackets, wool caps when the night was cold, and they sported dark sunglasses during the day. Their shifts ran around the clock and their ranks numbered in the sixties. We had guards at our front door, guards at the back door, guards to frisk newcomers in case they were agents with weapons or tape recorders, and guards who strolled the aisles during services and kept the bathrooms orderly. I had become accustomed to their watchful and protective eyes. The
stories in Kilduff’s exposé about our guards with guns was overstated. Only a few had guns—to protect Father from assassins.

When the crates earmarked to accompany the expatriates to the Promised Land were loaded into the station wagon, Jim came out and stood for a moment under the porch light. His once healthy outdoor tan, the olive-brown skin on his face and arms, was now startlingly pale. I had not noticed this change in all our meetings in his gloomy, shade-drawn apartment. Maria, once the Romanesque beauty of the attic floor we lived on, also looked bedraggled, frighteningly thin, and very old. I could tell that she’d been crying when she passed me on the way to the car.

“You have our passports?” Jim asked, settling into the station wagon. He looked tired and besieged. It seemed unfair that the whole world was crashing down upon him at the same time. I produced a bag of legal documents, passports, vaccination and immunization cards, and his and Maria’s money belts.

“Legal limit?”

“Yes, Father,” I answered, knowing it was too dangerous right now to skirt the law.

“Sit with me. We have things to discuss. Maria can sit in the front with Tom.”

Tom was Paula’s “before joining the church” husband, someone I trusted and respected. He didn’t write people up just to get them into trouble and he worked on occasional special projects for Teresa.

“Tom.” Jim cleared his rasping voice and continued, “After tonight you’ll need to work more closely with Teresa as Lucinda will be moving into Maria’s room and taking over the finances. Get on the radio and learn the codes. Most of Teresa’s time will be spent in there talking with me and she’ll need someone to help with all the instructions. Just because I’m leaving for Guyana doesn’t mean I won’t be in constant contact with you here. I expect to run both operations.”

He turned to me and put his warm, tense palm on my leg. It looked puffy.

“You’ve been leaving late at night to see Lisa …”

I nodded, acting as if my trips to see my mother were common knowledge, but my stomach tightened.

“Your brother Larry has finished his X-ray technician training and now works at Herrick Hospital in Berkeley. He asked if he could move in with ‘the old man.’ How do you feel about that? Your
brother works hard, Debbie, but he worries me. I think he wants to live with the old man because he actually likes him.”

I shrugged, trying to think of a response.

“No? And how about you? Do you feel sorry for him?”

“For Larry? He does work long …”

“No, your father. When I suggested Lisa get a divorce I was concerned about her reaction. She didn’t want to go after the old man for everything he was worth. She actually had feelings for the bastard.”

“Oh, I think she’ll be fine. She’s just lonely right now.”

“Do you think she handed over all the money she got from your father?”

I felt my lip begin its deadly giveaway twitter.

“Yes, it was about two hundred thousand, I think …”

“Perhaps, but my impression was that she wanted to leave some aside.”

How could he know this? I had overheard Mama talking on the phone one day with Annalisa. Mama had suggested putting some money away for Annalisa, in case she ever needed it, in case Annalisa decided to leave her husband. Had Mama’s phone been tapped?

“Mama wouldn’t do that,” I fibbed.

“Look into it, will you? Lisa has a mind of her own sometimes and she worries me.”

The hair on my arms and neck rose. Jim was having doubts about the sweetest person I knew. What on earth was going on?

“Thought I’d get it off my chest. It’s not good to deceive the leader. There are always ugly consequences.” He smiled and took tight hold of my hand.

“Of course,” I replied. Poor Mama was under suspicion. I would have to warn her.

“Yes, that reminds me, your mother has a bronze statue of a nude woman … I understand it is worth a great deal of money. It would be a nice touch for Charles Garry to receive it. I think he collects art deco pieces. Tell Lisa I will consider it an honor if she gives it to him personally.” I was crushed. The statue,
Die Erwachende,
meant so much to Mama; it was the last token of her life before the Temple that she had held on to. I decided not to tell her. Perhaps there was a way out of this. With Father leaving the country, he would not know if we did not give the statue to the famous attorney.

Seeing Father and his entourage fly away filled me with trepidation and relief. I would have time to talk with Mama, who was still unsure of what she should and shouldn’t say. I would have to remind her it was best never to tell anyone your true feelings. I needed to protect her from being misunderstood.

I arrived at Mama’s around three o’clock in the morning, kissed her hot, damp cheek, and snuggled down on the futon she had made up for me. A comforting warmth enveloped me, and then, as I drifted off into sleep, I thought I heard her cough.

I awoke mid-morning to the smell of cookies baking. After I showered, Mama and I sat in her room relishing one of her newer breakfast creations: delicious high-energy tofu oatmeal. The brown sugar had melted into creamy-sweet puddles.

“Mama, Jim left last night for Guyana.” I sipped her soothing tea with evaporated milk and a pinch of sugar. Her family had made it this way in Germany, before the war.

“Really? So suddenly?”

“There have been all these defections, you know that!”

“But what for? Tim and Grace, and the others … All of them are quite intelligent and educated, and every one was very close to Jim. I wonder what would make them leave?”

“Mom, how can you ask that? They’re capitalists!”

“Grace? Tim? Honey, I find that hard …”

“Mother!” I was shocked at my own intensity. What was I so upset about? I couldn’t take it out on her. She was an innocent bystander.

“Mama, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and edgy.”

“Well, let’s change the subject then. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that your father called and would like to have dinner with me tonight.”

“Don’t bring him here,” I exclaimed, losing control again. “He’ll be upset by your surroundings.” That’s all we would need, I thought. The Treasury Department, U.S. Customs agents, the FBI, Tim Stoen, and “the old man” as well. God forbid if they all started exchanging stories.

“Honey, he’s taking me to Trader Vic’s as a friendly gesture.”

“Should I come along?”

“No, darling. It’s different now. This is a very personal meeting.”

“Are you okay seeing him?” I asked anxiously.

“Debbie! We were married for thirty-four years. Your father is still very hurt over my decision to leave him. It was hard on both of
us when Tim Stoen came in and began to handle the legal affairs. We had chosen an arbitrator whom we both knew and trusted. Then Tim offered to help and it all changed. He was very hard on your father and pushed him to the limit on giving me my fair share.”

“Did he?”

“It’s all too late to lament over now. Your father was hurt financially, but the choices were made, hammered into settlement papers, and the relationship was all but destroyed.”

“You have regrets, Mama.” I was amazed by the realization.

“It was your father who helped me find my condominium when I wanted to separate. We went shopping together and he bought me some nice furniture to fit in my studio. He was very loving and seemed to understand that I just wanted my own space after so many years. I never planned to divorce him. We had dinners together, went for walks …”

“Mama? You aren’t crying?” I was afraid. I didn’t want to see her sad. I felt safest when I kept my mind closed from any hurt she might be experiencing. And then it struck me that it wasn’t Mama Jim was questioning me about in the car. He was testing me. How could I have been so daft? It was I who had suggested that Mama put some money in a separate bank account, just in case she ever had second thoughts. But it must have been myself who had second thoughts that I was not consciously aware of. I must have feared that if my mother gave everything away I would lose my only path out. As I could not admit I was concerned for myself, I focused my financial concern on my mother.

Mama looked at me quizzically.

“Debbie? …” I nodded for her to continue. “It’s all very complicated, my feelings for your father. He hasn’t done anything to be punished for.” A timer in the kitchen went off. She looked at her watch. “The cookies for you and Teresa are done. Better hurry, we should be on our way to the doctor’s.”

After Mama’s medical examination and the doctor’s concerned request for a follow-up X-ray, we headed for the picnic we had planned. Mama had packed my childhood favorite sandwiches, sliced cucumber with mayonnaise and cream cheese with raisins, cut into bite-sized pieces. It reminded me of all the mornings when I grabbed my lunch box, hugged Papa good-bye, and tugged from behind as Mama towed me up the long steep path to kindergarten. In the afternoons she’d fetch me and we’d stroll by Admiral Nimitz’s house. He’d knock on his living room window, then saunter out
arrange a time before supper when he would drop by and take me on his evening stroll with his Great Dane.