The Switch (34 page)

"Our offer was reasonable and fair."

"Maybe we should give him a signing bonus like they do professional athletes. I don't know where the money will come from. The deposit on this place will just about empty our account. Maybe we should hold off renting the space."

"The issue with Hart isn't money."

"No, the issue with Hart is that he doesn't want to be an Indian." Abbott spat a sliver of fingernail off the tip of his tongue. "His looks might say Indian, but he's white as they come on the inside. What I'd like to do is tell the smug bastard to go fuck himself."

Longtree showed a ghost of a smile. "Good idea, George. Very persuasive. I'm sure that would bring him around."

Irritated, Abbott kicked an empty soft drink can that a former tenant had left behind. It rattled across the bare floor. "You're right. We need the cock-strut. Which brings me back to my original point. We push. Push hard. Work on his conscience."

"Christopher Hart is a conscientious man."

Again, Abbott wasn't heeding a word he said. "How about this? We'll build in an incentive that wouldn't cost us any cash right now. A housing allowance. Or a car. That's it! A car.

Maybe we can talk Fred Eagle into donating a new car from his dealership."

"Would you want someone working as our spokesperson who'd had to be bribed?" Corruption on the reservations regarding gaming and construction contracts was one of the issues the advocacy group planned to address. "Besides, Hart couldn't be bribed."

Abbott threw up his hands in frustration. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I suggest that we go straight from here to the rental office and put down the deposit on this space before someone else grabs it."

"Without a commitment from Hart? You're willing to go forward without him?"

"We've got him, George."

"How do you know?"

"I know."

"One of your visions?"

Ignoring the man's scorn, Longtree moved toward the exit. "I know. It's Colonel Hart who doesn't know. But he will. Soon."

Jem Hennings alighted from his car, barely acknowledging the parking valet. The uniformed doorman stepped forward to hold the door for him. Jem gave him a cursory nod of thanks, then did a double-take. "Who're you? Are you new?"

"First day, sir. Harry Clemmet."

"Jem Hennings. Seventeen D."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Hennings. Anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Already buttering me up for a large Christmas tip
, Jem thought as he continued across the foyer. He was halfway to the elevator bank when Harry called out to him. "You're a mighty lucky man, Mr. Hennings."

Jem wasn't feeling particularly lucky today. In fact, his day
hadn't been at all pleasant. He was preoccupied and in no mood to interact with the hired help. But he never knew when he might need a favor from one of them. He turned. The doorman was grinning at him sappily. "Lucky?"

"Yes, sir. I met your
fiancée
."

Hadn't Harry the sappy grinner just told him that this was his first day on the job? Jem slowly retraced his steps across the lobby. "How could you have met her? When did you meet her, Harry?"

Sensing that something was amiss, the new doorman stuttered, "Th-this afternoon. When she came by to pick up those things for you."

Upon leaving Jem's high-rise, Chief announced that they must come to a meeting of the minds.

"Over what?" she asked.

"Accommodations. I've had my fill of fleabag motels, Melina."

"You've only been in one."

"Which is one too many."

"And it was clean."

"Which I don't consider an amenity."

He checked them into a suite hotel that was still modest by his standards but several rungs up from the motel on the interstate. "You didn't use a credit card, did you?" she asked when he returned to the car from the lobby.

"Cash. The clerk asked for the license plate number on the car."

"You knew it?"

"No, I made one up, but he didn't check. He winked and told me to have a pleasant stay. He thinks we're here for some afternoon delight. A hasty-tasty."

Apparently. Because the clerk assigned them a room with one king bed. Neither remarked on it. Depending on how the evening went, they might not be here long enough to spend

the night. If they were, there was always the sofa bed in the parlor. She would sleep there. Because spending the night in the same room with Chief would be unnerving for a number of reasons, most of which made her uneasy to think about. Under the circumstances, even a suggestion of intimacy with him would feel inappropriate. Ironically, those same circumstances were responsible for their togetherness.

Who could deny his appeal? Even matronly Linda Croft had responded to his effortless charm. Any woman who shared space with him—small, private space—over an extended period of time would be entertaining a few romantic notions, even though the probability of their being acted on was nil.

Of course, intimacy between her and Chief was out of the question. At this time. In this situation. And given who they were.

"I'm going to freshen up." She went into the bathroom.

When she came out several minutes later, Chief was sitting on the end of the bed, watching TV. He motioned her over and turned up the volume. "Isn't that the guy?"

She sat down beside him. "That's him."

The visage of Brother Gabriel filled the TV screen. He was shown in his very best light, literally. Dressed in a suit the color of heavy cream, a baby blue shirt, and matching tie, he seemed to radiate purity of body and soul. He seemed to glow from within through the peridot-colored eyes.

"Handsome, isn't he?"

"I guess. If you're into that blond Anglo type."

She frowned at Chief derisively, then turned her attention to what Brother Gabriel was saying. "You're feeling lost and alone even around people who profess to love you. I understand that feeling of alienation. Your parents are never satisfied with you. Your boss's demands on you are unreasonable. Your children disrespect you. People who call themselves friends revile and betray you. Maybe even your spouse ridicules you and makes you feel insignificant.

"Listen to me," he said, reducing his soft-spoken voice to an even lower, more confidential pitch. "Are you listening, my child? If you are within the sound of my voice, you are hearing the voice of the one who
really
cares for you. Listen to what I say, because your future in eternity depends on it."

He paused for dramatic effect, then said emphatically, "You are not insignificant to me. I love you. I want to protect you from the disdain you feel from others. From the parents, from the boss, from the teacher, the friend, the wife, the husband, whose claims of love are false. False," he stressed.

"I want to take you unto myself and adopt you into my family. It's large, yes. It has millions of members already. But I've reserved a place for you. Just for you. Your special place will go unoccupied if you don't accept it.

"I know what you're thinking. How would Brother Gabriel know me? Hear me now. Those doubts are spawned by the devil. Don't entertain them. Deny them. Daughter, son, beloved," he said softly, "I know you. I want you with me in the new world order."

"New world order'? What does that mean?" Chief asked. "Shh." She waved her hand for quiet.

They listened through the conclusion of the broadcast, when Brother Gabriel offered a flowery prayer of benediction. A mailing address and website address were superimposed over a photograph of the Temple with a blazing sunset in the background. Viewers were urged to request literature.

"Which I'm sure has the answers to all life's problems."

"Yeah. Wonder where he got them," Chief added as he muted the sound.

"He appeals to the Dale Gordons of the world."

"And to a lot of others, too, Melina. There are a few people in the space program who claim he turned their lives around." "You're kidding!"

"One of my colleagues has her daughter enrolled in his school."

"How can intelligent people buy in to the notion that one man has all the answers?"

"Easy," he said, shrugging. "He tells them what they want to hear. He appeals to their worst fears—rejection and non-acceptance. He alone can see their worth. He values them when no one else does. If they join ranks with him, they'll become one of the elite."

"Unbelievable. Frightening."

"Not really unbelievable, but definitely frightening. A lot of people thought that Hitler had the right idea. He's the quintessential example of the sway that one man can hold over the minds of many. But think of all the lesser cult leaders who've risen to prominence since him."

She chafed her arms, and it wasn't because Chief had adjusted the air-conditioning thermostat as low as it would go. "This guy doesn't see himself as a prophet, a minister. He's the deity of his dogma. He has the secret of life, and if you follow him, you'll have an inside track." She scoffed at the notion. "Somewhere along the way, he totally bypassed God."

"Are you a believer, Melina?"

The quiet quality of his voice arrested her. She replied solemnly, "Yes. Aren't you?"

"I believe in science."

After pondering that for a moment, she asked if he'd always wanted to be an astronaut. "Even when you were growing up."

"I was always fascinated by space, wanted to learn about the planets and the moon, the constellations. When I was old enough, I'd sneak out of the house at night and ride my bike past the outskirts of town where the sky was dark. I'd study the stars for hours, hoping to spot a meteor, or weather balloon, or satellite. The early astronauts were my heroes. So, yeah, I guess you could say that in the back of my mind I al-

ways wanted to be one. But I thought it was hopeless."

"Why?"

"Until I graduated from high school, I lived on a reservation." "So?"

"So, the opportunities are limited.""Then why don't you do something about it?"

He looked at her sharply. "Like what?"

"Sign on with that advocacy group." He frowned. "Well, what's keeping you from it? That Longbush?"

"Longtree."

"Do you question his integrity?"

"Partially." He rolled his shoulders as though trying to unburden himself of her questions. "I don't know."

"If you don't know, maybe you should find out."

"It's not just him."

"Then what? Not enough money?"

"No. They said I'd be free to do other things as long as my outside interests didn't conflict with their policies." "To me it sounds like a win-win situation."

"Why are we talking about this?" he asked querulously. "My mind's made up. I've turned them down."

"But you're not content with your decision."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you're snapping my head off. Why so testy, Chief? If you've made up your mind and you're easy with it, why are you scowling at me for talking about it?" She challenged him with a stare, and it was he who looked away first. "Are you afraid they'll disappoint you, let you down?" Then, in a softer voice, she asked, "Or are you afraid that you won't live up to their expectations of you?"

He raised his eyebrow and whistled softly. "Ouch. You're shooting wicked arrows, Melina."

"Ha-ha. Some Indian humor." She studied him for a long moment. "That's it, isn't it?"

"What's it?"

"You're an overachiever who despises failure, Chief," she said, chiding softly. "You must allow yourself a few small failures and develop the capacity to forgive yourself when you make a mistake."

He sat forward, bringing their faces close. "Have
you
?" "What?"

"Forgiven yourself."

She sucked in a quick breath. "For switching places that night?"

"Have you?"

After a time, she said, "I'm working on it. But it's tough, and so far the guilt is winning."

"I admire your honesty."

"Thank you."

"It deserves a turnabout."

"Go ahead."

He sat back slightly. "When I was up there on this last mission, I said a prayer." She remained very still, listening, giving him time. He shrugged self-consciously. "It wasn't much of a prayer, I guess. Not anything like his," he said, nodding toward the TV. "Nothing like you'd hear in church.

"The rest of the crew was asleep. I was just looking out, you know. At everything. And it's so vast, so..." He paused, momentarily at a loss for words to describe the scope of the universe. "It's so
beautiful, Melina. It made me feel superfluous by comparison. Small and inconsequential.

"But at the same time... connected. Connected to something greater than all of it, connected to something even more awe-inspiring than space itself. Like God, I guess. So I, uh, just sort of thought, you know, in my mind, a little prayer of thanks that it was there, and that I'd been selected to get a solitary, rarefied look at it." After a moment, he lifted his gaze to hers. "That's it."