voice and manner changed again. He was fervent, exultant. His powerful voice rang in the small room. "I knew the fruits of the orchard were God's children, made in His image. I knew the rain cloud was Satan. I knew the blight was the wild card. And I threw myself down on my face. `Lord!' I prayed. `Lord, I am not strong enough. I am not worthy for this task.' And the Lord said, `I will give thee strength!"' Barnett was screaming now. "`I will make thy heart as steel! I will make thy tongue as sharp as a sword, and of thy breath a whirlwind!' And I knew I had to do as the Lord asked of me."
Barnett jumped out of his chair, paced back and forth as he talked. Like God was jerking his chain, Jack thought.
"I knew I had the power to heal the wild card! I knew that the Lord's work had to be done, that His orchard had to be pruned!" He waved a finger at Jack. "Not as my critics would charge!" he said. "I would not prune wickedly, or arbitrarily, or maliciously. My critics say I want to put jokers in concentration camps!" He gave a laugh. "I want to put them in hospitals. I want to cure their affliction, and keep it from spreading to their children. I think it is sinful of the government to keep wild card research at such a low level of funding-I would multiply it tenfold! I would wipe this plague from the Earth!"
Barnett turned to Jack. To Jack's amazement there were tears in his eyes. "You're old enough to remember when tuberculosis was a plague upon the land," Barnett said. "You remember all the hundreds and thousands of tubercular sanatoriums that sprang up all over Arizona and New Mexico, where victims were kept from infecting others while science worked on a cure. That's what I want to do for the wild card."
"Jack!" Barnett was pleading. "The Lord has prolonged your life! The Lord has spared you from death! This can only be because He has a place for you in His plan. He wants you to lead the victims of this plague to their salvation. `He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.' Healed, Jack!" Barnett's face was joyful, rapturous. He stood in front of Jack, raised his hands triumphantly. "Won't you help me, Jack! Help me bring the cure to God's afflicted! Pray with me now, Jack! `Verily I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God-but as many received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in His name.",
Jack, to his astonishment, felt as if a giant hand had gripped him by the neck and flung him out of his chair. Suddenly he was on his knees in front of the preacher, his two hands raised and clasped between the hands of the Reverend Leo Barnett. Tears streamed down Barnett's face as he lifted his head and cried out in prayer.
"`Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away; behold all things become new. "' The man's power was almost palpable, Jack thought. This couldn't be all good showmanship and razzle-dazzle. Jack knew about showmanship; he'd never seen anything like this.
He's an ace, Jack thought. My god, he really is an ace. Maybe he'd never really believed it till this minute. Barnett was an ace, and Jack was going to bring him down.
11:00 A.M.
Cal Redken sounded like the acne-scarred junk-food addict he was. In the background of all his conversations was the rustle of plastic wrappers; his words were slurred by the effort of sneaking around wads of Twinkies, Snickers, and Fritos. He sounded fat and slow and lazy.
Only the first of those was true.
Gregg had taken him as a puppet long ago, more from reflex than desire. He'd played with Redken's voracious appetite, mildly amused that he could make a man eat until he was literally, sickeningly, stuffed. But that had not fed Puppetman particularly well, and Gregg had rarely utilized his link. Redken was not Hiram-an ace with peculiar abilities and tastes. Redken was a competent, if sedentary, investigator. There was no one better at following the confusing labyrinth of bureaucracy. It had been Redken who'd put