The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 28

“Yes we do, Preacher, yes we do. But something’s kinda’ confusing me. Of course you are going to have to forgive this poor old Catholic boy with his poor old altar boy upbringing, but I’d figure by now most of the people in this world done heard of Jesus, God knows the Catholics done spent a couple of thousand years telling them about him.” The broad smile. “Some of ‘em they told with the a sword or a club.” Another broad smile came across Gibbs’ face. “One of them clubs’ll make a believer out of you sure enough. But something else,” Gibbs looked at Father Bill. “I’ll ask you, Father. The way I was told, Jesus died for our salvation. Wasn’t nothing said about having to be saved, or nothing like that. Jesus already done that, ain’t no need to run up front yelling and screaming and carrying on. ‘course, that’s the way I remember it. Was all that wrong, Father? Or were you just lying, Father?”

Frank noticed Bill’s face. It appeared he flinched. Something was happening. The glassy grin stopped. Bill looked into Frank’s eyes for the first time in weeks. “Was it a lie, Bill? All those years were you lying to us? Was it a lie, Bill?”

Gibbs looked confused, but Frank could see Bill breaking. He wasn’t going to pass up what might be his last chance.

The man who had been introduced as Parker stood up from the couch. “Wait just a minute, here, people,” he said, “I don’t know who you think you are, Detective—”

“Parker, isn’t that right, Reverend Parker. Didn’t I get that name right? Well let me ask you a question, is it Clark Parker?”

The man acted surprised but nodded.

“That’s right, Clark Parker. How did you get that Reverend title Parker? You get it in the pen? Way I heard you and Taylor were busted together on a Ponzi scheme in Cleveland a while back. You did what, three, four years? I guess this Jesus thing is your new gig.”

Frank noticed one of the women look at the other. They were obviously shocked by what they were hearing. Bill’s expression seemed less glassy.

“I don’t know who you are, Detective, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to this shit any longer.”

“Shit? Smiled Gibbs, “is that any way for a holy man to talk, Taylor? You learn that in prison?”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 27

Gibbs barged on by into the living room. Bill quickly took off after him with Frank following. They all stopped when they saw three men and two ladies men sitting on the couch. “I see you have company, Father. Introduce us to these people.”

“This. . . this is Reverend Billy Taylor and his assistants, Reverend Parker and Deacon Welch. I can’t remember the ladies names. . .”

Gibbs butted into the introduction, “Glad to meet you, gentlemen, ladies, please don’t let me interrupt you. Sit. Go ahead with what you were doing.”

It was obvious that Father Bill had no idea what to say. Taylor spoke up. “We were just chatting with Bill. We have a lot in common. We’re both men of the cloth.”

“Billy Taylor. . . Billy Taylor. I’ve heard that name before. I remember, you’re that television evangelist. You put on all those TV shows. Yea, now I remember, you’re that TV evangelist.”

“Yes, we do have a television ministry.”

“Yea, pretty big operation.” Gibbs smiled broadly. “Might call it a multimillion dollar operation, wouldn’t what be what you would call it?.”

“Our ministry has been somewhat successful. The Lord has blessed us richly. We are thankful.”

“Yea, I’ll bet you are. Way I heard it, you knocked down a little over seven million last year, but that’s what the papers say.” Another broad smile, “but you can’t believe everything you read in the papers, can you?”

Taylor’s expression immediately changed. “Sir, I don’t believe I caught your name. Who are you?”

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, Police Detective Gibbs, Carby Gibbs, anti-gang, anti-cult division.”

“And, what was your business with Father Tait?”   

Another broad smile, “What was my business with Father Tait? I would have to ask you, Sir, what business is that of yours?” The smile was even broader. “I hear Father Bill is going to be helping you go about saving people, is that right?” every word was said through the same broad smile.

“Yes, that is true, it is our calling to let the world know about Jesus and save as many as we can. We all want to go to Heaven.”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 26

“These religious cults are funny. They’re strong in a way, and extremely weak in another. It’s sort of like the thing with tempered glass.”

“Tempered glass?”

“Yea, you can throw a cinder block against a good piece of tempered glass and it will bounce, but hit it in just the right place with a diamond ring and it will shatter to smithereens. These cults will go up against anything you throw at them, but touch these cults in just the right place and they fall apart, just like the piece of glass.”

That night, Frank picked up Gibbs at the three five and they went to the church rectory.

“I hope Bill hasn’t moved. He just told the Bishop this morning.”

“I don’t know. Usually these kind of things move fast… too fast.”

As they turned the corner in front of the church, Frank could see the rectory. There were several cars in the parking area.

“Bill has company.”

“Unless I miss my bet, it’s his new friends.”

“What should we do?”

“We’re going in. You beg for chances like this. The best bet you have is to make some of his new friends look like fools in front of him. Remember, a small fracture in the tempered glass will shatter the whole pane.”

“Whatever you say.”

The two of them parked the car and went to the front door. Frank rang the bell. Bill spoke without opening the door. “Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s Frank, Bill. Let me in.”

“This isn’t a good time.”

They’re in there. They told him to get rid of who was ever at the door.

“Open the door, Bill.”

The door opened slightly. The safety chain was still latched. Bill put his face up to the opening. “It’s not a good time, Frank. Come back tomorrow.”

“Unlock the door, Bill.”

“Frank, I’m serious.”

“I am too, Bill, unlock the goddamn door or you’ll see just how serious I am.”

“Frank, I have company.”

“Are you going to open the door or am I going to open it for you?”

Bills expression showed he wasn’t certain what to do. In a second the door closed and the rattle of the chain could be heard. The door opened.

“Bill, this is not a good time. I have company.”

Gibbs barged through the door and grabbed Bill’s hand. “Good evening, Father, my name is Gibbs. I’m on the anti-gang anti-cult squad of the police department. I’m glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Me too, I. . . I’m glad to meet you too, but. . .”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 25

“It’s a matter of degrees again, Detective. No, those people you see out in the audience chanting and waving their arms aren’t glassy-eyed. They’re not in the cult, well, not formally in the cult. They’re not supposed to be. They’re the fodder to feed the cult. They’re the last thing the cult wants in the cult. If you’re in the cult, the cult has to support you, and that means feed you. You are an asset, but you’re also a liability. Those people in the audience, are there for one purpose, to fleece. Problem is, the cult has to keep finding new followers. Even the stupidest followers figure out sooner or later that they’re being used. I promise you, if your friend was just a follower you would be okay. Before long he would figure out what was going on and abandon the whole thing. But, from what you’ve told me, they want him in the inner circle. Few in the inner circle ever figure it out, not on their own.”

“If I can arrange to see him, will you come with me?”

“I would be delighted to go with you, but one problem. You said ‘arrange’. Depending on how deep in the group he is, you don’t ‘arrange’ anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The group, the cult, won’t let you.”

“I still—”

“Control, they control everything, including who he can see and when. You find him and we barge in unannounced. No warning, no advance notice.”

“Okay,” sighed Frank reluctantly. “I really didn’t think—”

“No, and I didn’t think my son was, or ever would be, in as deep as he evidently got. Let’s look at it this way. If we barge in and screw up this crowd’s plans, you win. If we don’t, you lose. If you screw up their plans and he’s the friend you say he is, he’ll forgive you. If you don’t, he’ll never know. I can promise you, they’ll never tell him.”

“Normally, he’s at home at night. You want to go tonight?”

“Sounds good to me, it’s still early and that’ll give me a chance to make a few phone calls. Let’s plan on tonight.”

“Thank you, but in all honesty, do you think we can do anything?”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 24

 “Maybe it is, but I was taught. . .”

“You were taught. Let’s see, you were taught where you should be on a certain day of the week. What else where you taught? Let’s see, do you give money to the church?”

“Of course.”

“You were instructed you had to give money, interesting.”

“Do you ever volunteer your time to this church?”

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t mean it’s a cult.”

“Yes it does, Detective Logan, yes it does. The problem is, we have some connotation that a ‘cult’ has to be bad. That’s not necessarily true. Yes, the family is a cult, but it is the most desirable entity to which the human creature can belong. And, though every religion is a cult, here we have a dilemma of, shall we call them, degrees.”

“I don’t understand.”

“By degrees, I mean how much the church, the cult, controls one’s life. Now, in your case, the church is a part of your life. This is considered acceptable. I’m not demeaning you or your church, and I assume, up until this point, this friend of yours, this priest. . .”

“Father Bill.”

“Father Bill has maintained the church as a part of his life. Even though he is a priest, the church is only a part of his life. Would you say that is fair?”

“Yes, that sounds correct.”

 “And, what you fear, what we all fear, is when this church he appears to be choosing, becomes all of his life. Is that right?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“I assume he hasn’t made this move.”

“No, I say no, but I’m not really sure.”

“We really need to know.”

“Okay, but I’m still not clear on something. This Billy Taylor creep has thousands of people singing his praise. You should go to one of his revivals, crusades, whatever he calls it. There’s thousands of people there. They may be being fed a bunch of preprogrammed crap, but they don’t all have that glassy-eyed stare that I saw in the Moonies or see in Bill. That, I can’t understand.”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 23

 “I don’t understand,” commented Frank.

Gibbs looked at Frank and stood. He patted Frank on the back. “Detective, if you ask the average man the definition of a cult he’s going to describe some sort of a charismatic leader and chants and weird goings on. And, in a way that is all true, but we are surrounded by cults. They’re with us all the time. We’re born into a cult. What do we want our children to do? We want them to listen and follow us without question. Didn’t you ever get a spanking when you didn’t do as you were told?”

Frank had a questioning face but nodded yes.

“That was our parents keeping us in the ‘cult’.”

“When you went to school, were you allowed to just do whatever you wanted to do?”

“No,” answered Frank. “You did what the teacher told you to do.”

“That’s right,” said Gibbs. “In both cases, your parents, your teachers, they were bringing you in conformity with the group. No matter how rambunctious a child you were, you eventually relinquished control to the one in charge. In this case, your parents, your teachers. In a way, you were in the cult.”

“Yes, I see what you’re saying, but this is a grown, educated man. He knows better. . .”

“What did you say he does for a living?”

“I said he is a priest. He is the pastor at. . .”

“Detective, all religions are cults, every one of them. I hate to say this, but all your friend has done is switch one cult for another.”

“Whoa, wait a minute, I am in church every. . . well, most Sundays. And I have never seen anything weird or unnatural going on. I certainly wouldn’t consider my religion. . .”

“You wouldn’t consider your religion a cult?”

“No, absolutely not.

“Umm, that’s interesting. But you have already said it. You are in church every Sunday. Well, you said most Sundays, and you feel guilty when Sunday comes and you’re not there sitting in a pew. I want you to think of this whole vast world, this whole vast universe, do you believe that. . . what did you say your name was?”

“Frank Logan.”

“Right. Do you actually believe the one who created this entire world, this entire universe gives the least damn whether or not Frank Logan is sitting in that pew. Isn’t that rather presumptuous? Isn’t it a bit egotistic?”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 22

“Well, long story short, she was in with some sort of religious nuts, wasn’t the Moonies, but it was something. . . You know about the Moonies, don’t you. Some Korean nut called himself Moon, hooked in thousands of kids. Had them going door to door selling roses and collecting. . .”

“Yes Sir, I know about Reverend Moon.”

“These weren’t Moonies, it was a local group and my son fell for it hook, line and sinker. I’m serious, in no more than a couple of weeks. Hell, I don’t know if it was that long, I didn’t even know my son. He became some sort of spaced-out freak. He couldn’t even look at me straight. All he did was grin like some idiot. I don’t know if it was some kind of drug, mind control or what, but he won’t my kid. I don’t know who he was. I needed help. I needed it quick. But there wasn’t anybody who knew anything about cults. Few people knew about gangs, and there really isn’t a whole lot of difference between the two, but we didn’t know that then. There wasn’t anybody. Long story short, I spent the rest of my life studying gangs and cults. I wanted to try and see no one ever experienced what I did with my son.” Frank could see a tear run down the Gibb’s cheek. “That’s how I got here.”

“Your son? Did you find him? Were you able to get him out?”

“No, that was my first lesson about gangs and cults.”

“Your first lesson?”

“Yes, they don’t go away and it doesn’t get better by itself. I thought my son would realize what he had gotten in and walk away. He didn’t. It’s been twenty-two years now. He would be close to forty. His birthday is next month.

“Well, so much for that. You need my help?” Gibbs pulled a notepad in front of him. “What’s the lad’s name?”

"It’s not a lad. He’s a grown man. He’s my priest.”

The shocked look Frank expected didn’t happen. Gibbs just continued listening while Frank told his story. When he was through, he looked Gibbs in the eye. “You don’t seem to be shocked by anything I’ve told you. You act like it’s no big thing, but it’s a big thing to me.”

“Oh, I know it is,” said Gibbs, “and I don’t want to give you the impression that I am unfeeling. I feel very deeply, but you have told me nothing I consider unusual.”

“You don’t consider a grown man, a priest, getting into some cult unusual?”

The man looked at Frank as straight faced as possible and said, “No”.

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 21

When Frank got back to the station he looked up the number for the psychiatrist the police use for psychiatric evaluations. Dr. Reynolds was a decent guy, he wasn’t an egghead like most shrinks.

“Dr. Reynolds, Frank Logan. . .”

“Very well, thank you, but I need to ask you a question. What do you know about cults? I have a friend. . .”

“I don’t know him. Thirty fifth precinct you say? Gang and cult expert for the city?”

“Right. Thanks for the help, Doc.”

Reynolds had given Frank the name of a detective in the three five who was supposed to be some sort of expert in cults and things. This would probably be the egghead, but it didn’t matter. Bill wasn’t going to stand idly by while his best friend was brainwashed into something he couldn’t even recognize.

When Frank got to the three five he was pointed to a desk at the back. The egghead Frank expected was actually a graying older detective, Carby Gibbs. Frank approached his desk. “Detective Gibbs. My name is Frank Logan from the two four and I need to talk. They tell me you’re an expert in cults.”

Gibbs stood and cleared a stack of papers from the desk side chair. “Excuse the mess, Detective. I don’t get too many visitors.” The man half-smiled, “I don’t know about the expert part, but I’ve spent what, fifteen, twenty years trying to do something with the gangs and cults. Can’t say I’ve done near as much as I should.”

“How did you get interested in it? You study it in school, or what?”

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s a long story. You don’t want to. . .”

“Yes I do,” snapped Frank.

“As you wish. Years ago I had a kid who I figured would follow his old man into law enforcement. He was a good kid, made good grades in school. I was real proud of him. I wanted him to go to college, I wanted it real bad, and, at that time Kenny, that was my son’s name, wanted to do whatever his old man wanted. I was real proud of that boy. Did I tell you that?”

“Yes," said Frank. "You told me.”

“Okay, I sometimes repeat myself. People tell me that.”

Frank looked straight at the man.

“Well, Kenny, that’s my son’s name. Hell, I told you that. Well, Kenny came home from his first year at school and had done real well, good grades and all. No problem. That summer, met a nice girl, at least I thought she was nice. You know, pretty little thing.”

“Yes Sir.”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 20

Good Morning. Please note I have created another blog at http://danweatherington.blogspot.com/ which will be devoted totally toward the writing life. If you may be interested, please take a look and sign up. NO ONE IS SIGNED UP FROM THIS BLOG. Hope you like the new blog and will sign on.

Dan

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 20


Frank had an ace card to play. When they were growing up no one called Bill a liar. It was a dangerous thing to do. Every kid in the neighborhood knew you didn't call Bill a liar unless you wanted to feel pain.”

“When you said those things about Taylor, were you lying, where you lying to me, Bill?”

The Bill Frank knew would not take that. He would be up on his haunches against Frank, but it didn’t happen. Instead, the same glassy stare and smile. “Like I said, I must have been mistaken.”

Frank had played his ace card and lost. “Okay, okay. Go, go, I’ll talk to you later.”

Frank remained in his seat nursing his Coke. He honestly had no idea what had just happened, but he felt hollow inside. He felt he had just lost his best friend. He dropped a five on the table and went out the door. Down the street he could still see Bill walking away. His first urge was to go after the man, but he didn’t want a repeat of the last ten minutes.

Frank headed back to the precinct. It had been so nice when he left that he had decided to walk, but now walking seemed too slow. He was losing his best friend, a friend he had known all his life. He could sense it, he could feel it. It was the same feeling he had when his brother had gone to Iraq. His brother didn’t come back, and he feared neither would Bill.

“What to do?” he asked himself over and over. “What should I do?” He tried to rationalize what was happening to himself. “After all, it wasn’t like Bill was going away. He was just changing jobs. It was no big deal. People change jobs every day. Bill would still be there.” Then he remembered Bill’s glassed over eyes. Bill wasn’t changing jobs. Bill was joining a cult. No, Bill had already joined a cult!

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 19

“I thought you had found Jesus years ago. I thought that’s what you’ve been spouting off since you became a priest.”

“No, you don’t understand. I have finally found Jesus and accepted him as my personal savior. I am so happy.”

“Accepted him as your. . . ? Bill, that’s that holy roller crap. What are you talking about?”

“I’m leaving the priesthood, Frank. I have found other ways to serve the Lord. I informed the Bishop this morning.”

Just then the waitress shouted “Two on a bun with mayo, L and T. . . burn ‘em.”

“Leaving the priesthood?” shouted Frank. Everyone in the restaurant stopped and looked. “You can’t leave the priesthood, that’s all you talked about as a kid. Priest this, priest that, I heard it until it was coming out of my ears. I can promise you that if it hadn’t been for you I could have found a hell of a lot better ways to spend my Sunday mornings than ringing bells on an altar. Come on now, let’s laugh about it and tell me you’re kidding.”

“No, I am serious. I told the Bishop this morning.”

“Okay, you’re leaving the priesthood. What are you going to do? It’s not like you know how to handle a real job.”

“I have a job, Frank. I have much to do.”

“Okay, great! You have much to do. What is this ‘much’?”

“I will be bringing souls to Jesus. I will be doing what I was destined to do all along.”

Then it occurred to Frank. Actually it slapped him. “Let me guess, you’re going to work for Billy Taylor. You’re going to become one of his goddamn snake charmers.”

“Please don’t use God’s name in vain, Frank.”

Frank shook his head. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re going to work with Billy Taylor?”

“Reverend Taylor has offered me a position and I have accepted. This is what I wanted to tell you. We will talk more, but right now I have to go.”

“Didn’t you forget to ask me if I was saved?”

“Are you Frank?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you saved? Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior?”

“Jesus Christ, Bill. You used to joke about that saved shit in the pulpit. We all laughed. It was funny.”

“I’m not laughing now, Frank,” Bill said seriously. “Have you accepted. . .”

“No, and I don’t plan to, at least not in that weird, sick, holy roller way you’re talking about.”

Bill stood and turned toward the door. Frank could see his friend leaving. What had happened? Why the change? Was this just a joke? If so, Bill was taking it too far. Frank had to do something.

“Lunch, what about lunch?”

“Man doesn’t live by bread alone. . .”

“Bill, we talked about Taylor. You, yourself said he man was a fraud, a con artist. You said he was an embarrassment to the whole Christian community. Do you remember saying those things?”

“I did say them, yes, but maybe I was wrong.”

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 18

Frank took Bill’s arm and pulled him to the side off the steps. “Look, Priest, I don’t know what’s got into you but don’t give me that holy shuffle shit. This is Frank, I know you.”

“Yes, I know. We can have lunch tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow, but please let me return. People are waiting.” Bill pulled his arm from Frank’s grip and flashed him the same glassy smile.

Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Bill had hooked up with the Moonies. He’s acting like a . . .”

Chapter 4 –

The three minutes Frank had spent with Father Bill the day before disturbed Frank to no end. He had caught himself thinking about the priest while he was watching the game Sunday afternoon. During the game, one thing mattered, the game, but he was thinking about Bill.

At noon Frank walked into Bertie’s Restaurant. Bertie’s was a big part of Bill’s life and Franks. They had met there after taking their dates home. They were there every day after school. When Bill had said they would meet for lunch he didn’t ask where. There was only one place, Bertie’s.

Frank had already sat at a table and ordered a Coke when Bill came in, but as Bill made his way toward the table Frank noticed something, something wrong, very wrong.

When they were kids Bill was like every other kid on the block. He wore the same knit shirts and the same jeans. But when he went off to the seminary he changed. He was still Bill, but when he wasn’t wearing black and a Roman collar he would still betray his ‘priesthood’ in some manner or the other. Today, Bill was ‘normal’. He could be confused for any other mill worker or desk jockey in town. There wasn’t the first sign of black anywhere. There was no cross, no collar, nothing. Bill looked normal.

“Okay, Priest, talk to me. I know something’s eating you, what is it?”

“Eating me? Nothing is eating me, Frank. I am at peace.”

“At peace,” thought Frank, “is this the same guy who panicked when he thought he had knocked up Mary Ann Gillespie? He was at peace? What did that mean?”

“Okay, Dude, why are you ‘at peace’.” Frank tried to hold back a grin. He didn’t succeed.

“I am one with Jesus.”

“Okay, so, you are one with Jesus. So, what’s new?”

“No, I mean I am ONE with Jesus. I have found my savior.”

Frank tried to hold back a smirk, again he didn’t succeed. 

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 17

I hate to push it but you know I want to take this thing further.”

“I know you do, but what I don’t know is why. There have been Billy Taylors around for centuries. You all sell eternity for donations, you know that. I love you, Bill, but I believe you need to realize that the same thing goes on in your church. Don’t you believe the people think God is watching when they drop their money in the plate?”

“I know. I’m not stupid, but at least we tell them it’s to keep up the church, we don’t use that ‘come forward and be healed’ crap.”

“I know.”

Frank watched as Father Bill walked out of the precinct. “There goes a disappointed man,” he thought as he regretted getting such a good man involved.

Frank was busy the next two Sundays and didn’t go to church. When he finally did go on the third Sunday it seemed Bill to avoid him. As they shook hands after church, Frank said that they needed to have lunch some time that week.

“We do need to get together, but I don’t know when it will be.  This is my busy time of year.”

They had known each other since childhood and Frank had just been brushed off like someone would do a deadbeat relative asking for money. And busy time? It was fall. What was busy about fall.

The next week Bill was even more distant. “What day you want to have lunch, Father?”

“Hmmm, good question,” answered Bill as he sucked air through his teeth. “I would like to sit down with you but I’m not sure when. Tell you what, I’ll let you know something later this week.”

There was no ‘later this week’. Frank heard nothing. Was Bill mad about the Jimmy Taylor thing? Was there anything to be mad about? Frank tried to call, but each time he had to leave a message, a message that was not answered.

The following Sunday Frank was determined to get an answer. This wasn’t right.

“No, I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

“Busy doing what? Look you holy shit, I know when I’m being avoided.” Mrs. Banks heard part of what was said and grabbed her mouth. Father Bill reached over and shook her hand and she scurried off.

“Frank, something has come up. I do want to talk you, but I just want everything right before I do.”

“Everything right? What in the hell are you talking about? I didn’t know anything was wrong.”

Frank stood back and Father Bill shook another couple of hands. “No, nothing is wrong. Actually, for the first time in my life, everything is perfect.” Frank noticed Bill’s face. He had the sort of glassy look like the Moonies used to have when they tried to collect money at the precinct. Even when they were turned away, they gave a glazed over look and said “Thank You”. It was the same look.

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 16

 “Whew, let me think it over. It’s like you said, they are smart. Evidently, the woman in Walmart hasn’t said anything too them, because if she had I would imagine they would have marked you off their list.”

“Can’t you do something about it?”

“About what?”

“Isn’t that extortion? If I don’t pay them the thousand dollars they’ll take away the cure.”

“Are you trying to be funny? If you are, you’re not.”

Bill gave Frank a questioning look.

“I can’t believe this. First, there was no cure. There was nothing wrong with you. Second, who are we going to indict, Jesus? Not challenging your resurrection thing, but I seriously doubt he would show up in court.”

“Then there’s nothing. . .”

“Nothing. Just wait and see if they call back. Calling for donations is not a crime. Saying the ‘cure’ would go away if you don’t shell out some money is no different than letting people believe if they don’t tithe they’re going to hell.”

“I don’t believe in tithing.”

“Neither do I and neither does the most of the world but those ignorant bastards we saw in that arena do. They’re being played, but Billy Taylor didn’t start it, Saint Peter did.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. Just wait and see if anything else happens. If it doesn’t, we tried.”

Frank could see the disappointment in Father Bill’s face. “I know you want to take it further, Bill, but if they’re not breaking any laws. . .”

“What about decency? Aren’t there any laws about decency? Do you know how stupid these people male all of Christianity look?”

“Bill, I don’t believe everyone looks at those people as bad, a little on the nut side maybe, but not necessarily bad.”

“I’m not criticizing that religion but those are some sad people, anyone who would believe that crap.”

“Yes you are criticizing that religion. That’s exactly what you’re doing. And I believe you need to remember that the vast majority of the world believe that you are stupid for believing some Jewish fisherman came back to life two thousand years ago.”

“Yes, you are right, but you also know what I mean.”

“Yea, Bill, I know exactly what you mean, but you also need to realize that is a public relations problem, not a legal problem. There’s no law against pumping people up and making them feel good to get their money. It’s done at every rock concert, the only difference is the rock concert collects the money at the front gate. The charismatic preacher passes the bucket, same difference. The man may be a joke, he may be every kind of fraud you think he is, but he hasn’t broken the law. Or, at least any law I know of. I’m sorry.”

    Bill nodded. He knew Frank was sorry but there was nothing he could do.

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 16

The two shared a fine meal that evening at Svereta’s, an upscale eatery in western Moscow. Afterwards, they began walking. They paused for a moment to buy a bottle of vodka and continued on to a small park near Borski Square. There, they found a bench.

“Have you a plan?” asked Demetri.

“Of course, first we have to find him.”

“You have leads?”

“One, I got the name and address of his uncle in Riyadh. I was told he would know.”

“Who told you?”

“Vladimir Perski,” said Raven, Demetri laughed.

“You don’t believe his information is accurate?”

“No, I am certain it would be. What I laughed about is can you imagine how many hours Vladimir has spent chasing me? The man was like. .  What’s that American stuff? Scotch Tape. No, I don’t doubt Vladimir Perski.”

“I thought Perski was KGB. Why would the KGB be interested in you?”

“Oh, you conceited bastard. Do you think you are the only one who ever handled high-level business? You think your clients were so more important than mine?” Demetri asked almost laughing.

“My apologies, My Friend. I am well aware of your accomplishments and your reputation. I sincerely apologize.”

Demetri smiled and bowed his head. “Apology accepted. Now, back to my question, your plan?”

“Actually, my friend, much of my plan is hinged on you. You are familiar with those caves in the mountains of Afghanistan. It is said that is where bin Laden hides.”

“I was familiar with those caves, but that has been almost thirty years ago. Things change.”

“Does a mountain change? Does a cave fill in and a new one appear? Those mountains have been there since the beginning of time. Besides, don’t people always return to where they feel safe? What could be safer for the rat bin Laden than the mountains of Afghanistan?”

“This is true, but there is something you are not figuring, the money. When bin Laden was fighting against us, he needed to rely on American money. Now, he has mountains of oil money to draw upon. Money changes everything.”

“Yes, but I we are to believe the news, much of the oil money will not go to bin Laden.  Some of those who control the oil hate him.”

“Yes, if we are to believe the news, but you know better than that. And too, My Friend, remember that before there is hate, there is religion. The ones who control the oil money are Muslim. Bin Laden is a Muslim. To them, Allah comes first. They are all brothers before Allah.”

“You are right, but one thing you are forgetting. Bin Laden has always had money. He grew up in one of the wealthiest families in Saudi Arabia. People with money develop habits at birth. Those habits never change. It is those habits on which we must rely. Once a man has felt silk, he will never want cotton. Once he has tasted fine wine, he will never want water.”

Demetri nodded and handed Raven the bottle of vodka. 

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 15

Chapter 3 –

Frank took Father Bills advice and didn’t say anything to Mr. Lacy. After the “premature ejaculation” conversation, Frank began watching every word he said. A week later, he was glad he did. Father Bill came into the precinct and made his way to Frank’s desk.

“I didn’t tell you about it, but night before last I got made.”

“What do you mean, you got made?”

“Isn’t that what you people say when your cover is blown? When someone recognizes who you are?”

Frank wondered how he could keep Bill away from watching Law and Order. “Okay, how did you get made?” Frank couldn’t help but smile.

“The other night I went to Walmart and some woman recognized me. She was with us on the bus trip. She came up to me and was all smiles, asking about my ear and my hands and the whole time never took her eyes off my collar.”

“You were dressed as a priest?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it I believe. . .”

Bill gave Frank a look letting him know to shut up.

“As I was saying, I didn’t think that much of it until this morning.”

“This morning, what happened this morning?”

“I got a phone call, somebody from Taylor’s organization.”

“Okay, they were hitting you up for money. I would imagine you should have expected that. I’m not the least surprised. You do that at St. Claude’s. You call people after they’ve visited. I know you won’t admit it, but your goal is to get a pledge.” Frank once more smiled.

“Yea that would make sense except I never gave them my name, certainly not a phone number. And it wasn’t exactly what they said, but how they said it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The woman asked me about my ear and how I was doing.”

“So?”

Bill gave Frank another “shut up” look.

“The woman said that sometimes people get cured but fail to show the Lord their appreciation and the cure goes away.”

“The pitch for the money.”

Bill nodded. “But it’s worse than that.”

“What?”

“They wanted a thousand dollars.”

“They asked for a thousand dollars?”

“No, they didn’t exactly ask. They said that Jesus had spoken to Reverend Taylor and told him that in my case he believes a thousand dollars would display my faith.”

“You have got to be kidding!”

Father Bill raised his right hand, a sign for “I swear”. 

The Policeman and the Prophet - Day 14

 “Come on, Frank. What do you think the average education level of those people is? Maybe high school? Probably a little lower?”

“I guess, I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Well, think about it. Those people are just like those snake handlers in the mountains and any of those holy rollers in Mississippi. They’re just looking for something good in life and they think people like Taylor give it to them.”

“In other words, you’re saying we should back off on this whole thing?”

“Maybe not back off, but just let it stew a few days. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Now I wish I hadn’t said anything to Mr. Lacy.”

“Probably you shouldn’t have, but that’s the story of your life, premature ejaculation.”

“Premature ejaculation? What the hell do you know about my ejaculations?”

“You have always opened your mouth before you should. The world doesn’t have to always be informed.”

“What are you babbling about, Priest?”

“There isn't always an urgency to say something. You don’t have to rush to tell what you know, or even think.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about Peggy.”

“Peggy? Peggy who?”

“Far as I’m concerned, the finest girl you ever dated was Peggy Flye. You remember Peggy and don’t tell me you don’t.”

“Yes, I remember Peggy.”

“She was cute. She was smart. And she loved your ass off.”

“Yea, what about her?”

“I have no doubt you would have eventually married that girl, if you had just have kept your mouth shut. Premature ejaculation.”

“Shows what you know, I never got past second base with Peggy.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s not always about sex.”

“Well, if premature ejaculation isn’t about sex, I don’t know what it’s about.”

“It’s a metaphor, ass. It means shooting off your mouth before it’s time. It means telling Peggy Flye you love her on the forth date and scaring the hell out of her.”

“How do you know what I told her and when I said it? That collar you wear give you some sort of psychic powers?”

“No, but if you’ll remember, I was in the back seat with Barbara Nash. I heard every word you said. She was all over you. You tell her you love her and the next thing I hear is you asking her what’s wrong? That was your last date too, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember. That was over twenty years ago. And I don’t know how come you are so well versed in my life, especially something that long ago.”

“Because you are my best friend and I knew that night you had blown a good thing, a real good thing. Hell, half the boys in school would have given anything just to talk to Peggy Flye, and here you were dating her and blew it. No, I’ll never forget that.”

“I think you’re making a mountain out of. . . “

“Shut up!”

The Policeman and the Prophet

A few minutes later, Bill returned to his seat. Frank leaned over and began to whisper something but stopped and asked, “Am I talking into your good ear?”

Father Bill just nodded no and smiled. “I’ll tell you later,” he whispered.

After the program was over, the two of them walked slowly back to the bus taking care to move away from the others. “It’s as you thought it was,” said Bill. “It’s pure crap, but they’re smarter than I thought, a whole lot smarter.”

“In what way?”

“When I went up there I was greeted by a “prayer partner” who asked me a few questions. And they are good.”

“What do you mean?”

“My prayer partner, the woman who talked to me, could tell I wasn’t stone deaf. She was sure that when Taylor put his finger in my ear to plug the ‘good’ ear I would be able to hear. He never put any pressure on my ear when he was plugging it. Of course I could hear. But if you’ll notice nothing you could see was ‘cured’. Those people who said they were cured and could now walk, it happened while they were in the audience, out of sight. There’s a bunch of wheelchairs and walkers piled behind the stage. I saw them, even saw old blue. They caught me looking.”

“Caught you?”

“Yea, that’s how I got on stage. I told them I was looking to get healed. I acted stupid and they ate it up. But, like I said, they are smart. While they were talking to me, I saw a woman with a goiter and a man with a terrible face cancer, but you didn’t see them on the stage. All you saw were healings you couldn’t, well, really see. Or at least see anything happen.”

“So, it is a con”

“Sure it is, you knew that, but by god it is a good con.”

“But are they doing anything illegal?”

“If they are, I didn’t see it. All I could see them doing is taking a bunch of ignorant people and convincing them of something or other. All they’re doing is giving these people what they want, that’s all.”

“You don’t feel like taking their money is wrong?” asked Frank.

“Sure, it’s wrong, but those are the type of people destined to have someone take their money.”

“That doesn’t sound too Christian.”

“Maybe not Christian, but realistic.”

Frank gave Bill a confused look.

Healing - Day 12

As the lights came back up, the first three people had not been able to walk, but something had come over them and they were now spry and limber. While they stood to tell the Reverend how Jesus had cured them, the wheelchair in which they had been riding was carried onto the stage. In each case, the Reverend put his hands on the person’s head. Said a prayer and pushed the person backward. In each case, the person fell backwards into the arms of somebody, obviously on Taylor’s staff. In each case they would be lifted back onto their feet. As he third man who could not walk almost jogged off the stage the Reverend was told the next man was deaf in one ear and had arthritis in his hands. As they led the poor unfortunate to the center of the stage, Frank could see it was Bill, Father Bill Damien had gone forward to be healed.

“And you are deaf in your right ear. Is that right, Brother.” Asked Taylor.

“Can’t hear a thing, Brother Taylor, been that way all my life.”

“You believe the lord can help you?”

“I know he can, Brother.”

“You got faith, Brother?”

“I believe, Brother Taylor.”

“You know Jesus can heal you.”

“Yas Sir, I know he can.”

Taylor stuck his finger into Bill’s right ear and prayed. At the end of his prayer, Taylor jerked his finger from Bill’s ear and pressed his forehead backwards. Bill fell into the arms of the catchers and was again lifted to his feet.

“You have arthritis in your hand?”

“Yas Sir, have for some years now.”

“You believe Jesus can cure you?”

“I believe it with all my heart, Brother.”

Taylor slapped Bill on the forehead and Bill fell backwards into the hands of the catchers. He was lifted up, Taylor slapped his forehead again, back in the hands of the catchers and once more to his feet.”

“Jesus works miracles, Brother.”

“Yes, he does, Reverend Taylor. Yes he does.”

At that point Bill just stood on the stage and watched Taylor “cure” a man with diabetes, a woman with rheumatism and a woman who had “bad blood”.

Healing - Day 11

The coliseum was huge, there was probably fifty or sixty thousand people attending. Everything was as Frank had expected, designed and coordinated to emit as much emotion. As they entered the building, music and the songs of a choir filled the arena. Before the program even started, a bucket was being passed and people dropped cash and checks inside. When one bucket was filled, another empty one took its place. As the bucket made its way to Frank, he passed it to Bill.

“It is a bucket,” he said.

“You thought I was kidding?” answered Bill.

There were hymns and prayers and the normal things one would expect at such an event, but when Reverend Billy Taylor came out everything changed. The music and the choir was louder and everything that was done was done on cue. As Frank had observed so well on television, everything was perfectly coordinated.

Traylor’s prayers got louder and stronger. He would walk up to a row of people and touch one on the head and the entire area would fall back in their seats. He would pray some more, touch a man in another group, and that group would fall. This action circled the stage. The music got even louder and Taylor’s prayers moved even faster. People were crying and some where speaking in what Frank assumed were “tongues”.

Frank was going to punch Bill and ask him if what he heard were people speaking in tongues, but Bill was gone. Frank assumed nature had called. But Frank really wished Frank was there because the entire production was growing more and more emotional.

Then, a brief silence and Billy Taylor began to sing. Behind him, the choir followed humming in perfect unison. As the choir continued to hum their song, the lights were dimmed and Taylor informed the audience it was time for those who needed the lord to come forward.

Healing - Day 10

 “I see what you mean. When does the thing start?”

“At one o’clock. Should work out perfectly. They make these bus trips all the time, this is big business.”

“Not at ten bucks a throw. It’s not too much of a big business.”

“They’ll get their money when you drop that hundred in the bucket.”

“Yea, lots of luck about the hundred.”

“Yea, that is true, I’ve seen what you drop in the collection plate.”

“Isn’t there something in the Bible about being thankful for what you get?”

“A lost cause,” says Bill.

“Wednesday came and the parking lot was full of people waiting for the bus, except when they arrived there were four shiny new Trailways busses awaiting their passengers. As Frank and Father Bill got out of the car Frank noticed Bill grab a small gym bag. “You didn’t feel any need to bring any police gear did you,” whispered Frank.

“No, what you said about boiled eggs and pimento cheese got me. I can’t stand boiled eggs.”

“Neither can I.”

“Then don’t worry. I stopped by the Colonel’s. We got enough fried chicken to make it.”

As they moved toward the line of people getting in the bus it seemed everyone wanted to shake their hands and introduce themselves.

“Friendly bunch of people.”

“Allot friendlier than the people at St. Claude’s.”

“Yea, agreed Father Bill.”

The hymn singing began before they cleared the parking lot and the strongest and the loudest was good Father Bill. Not only did he know and sing every hymn, part of the time he was up walking the aisle of the bus conducting the others. After every hymn, the entire bus cheered and applauded. Frank’s hopes for a quiet trip where he and Bill would both be unnoticed ended about the second chorus of “Bringing in the Sheaves”. As Frank watched Bill walk up and down the aisle waving his arms and encouraging everyone to sing, he realized why he loved the guy. Here was Father Bill, as out of his element as he could be, involved and having a ball. As long as Frank had known Bill, he couldn’t remember a time when Bill did anything half-way. He had won every trophy in every sport in high school. He wasn’t always the best, or even the most talented, but no one ever put more enthusiasm, or commitment, into what he was doing.