the truth. You called them rubes, and how right you are. They have set aside what brains they have—and many of them have quite a lot—and put their faith in that gigantic and fraudulent insurance company called religion. It promises them an eternity of joy in the next life if they live according to the rules in this one, and many of them try, but even that’s not enough. When the pain comes, they want miracles. To them I’m nothing but a witch doctor who touches them with magic rings instead of shaking a bone rattle over them.”
“Haven’t any of them found out the truth?” My researches with Bree had convinced me that Fox Mulder was right about one thing: the truth is out there, and anyone in our current age, where almost everyone is living in a glass house, can find it with a computer and an Internet connection.
“Aren’t you listening to me? They don’t deserve the truth, and that’s okay, because they don’t want it.” He smiled, and his teeth appeared, the upper and lower sets locked together. “They don’t want the Beatitudes of the Song of Solomon, either. They only want to be healed.”
• • •
Stamper didn’t glance up as we crossed the kitchen. Two of the mail bins had been emptied and he was working on the third. The liquor box now looked about half full. There were some checks, but mostly it was crumpled currency. I thought of what Jacobs had said about witch doctors. In Sierra Leone, his customers would be lined up outside the door, bearing produce and chickens with freshly wrung necks. Same thing, really; all of it’s just the kick. The grab. The take.
Back in the library, Jacobs seated himself with a grimace and drank the rest of his lemonade. “I’ll have to piss all afternoon,” he said. “It’s the curse of growing old. The reason I was glad to see you, Jamie, is because I want to hire you.”
“You want to what?”
“You heard me. Al will be leaving soon. I’m not sure he knows it yet, but I do. He wants no part of my scientific work; even though he knows it’s the basis of my cures, he thinks it’s an abomination.”
I almost said, What if he’s right?
“You can do his job—open each day’s mail, catalogue the correspondents’ names and complaints, put aside the love offerings, once a week drive down to Latchmore and deposit the checks. You’ll vet gate-callers—their numbers are drying up, but there are still at least a dozen a week—and turn them away.”
He turned to face me directly.
“You can also do what Al refuses to do—help me along the final steps to my goal. I’m very close, but I’m not strong. An assistant would be invaluable, and we’ve worked well before. I don’t know how much Hugh is paying you, but I’ll double—no, triple it. What do you say?”
At first I could say nothing. I was stunned.
“Jamie? I’m waiting.”
I picked up the lemonade, and this time the melting remnants of the ice cubes did click together. I drank, then put it down again.
“You speak of a goal. Tell me what it is.”
He considered. Or appeared to. “Not yet. Come to work for me and get to understand the power and beauty of the secret electricity a little better. Perhaps then.”
I stood and held out my hand. “It’s been nice to see you again.” Another of those things you just say, a bit of grease to keep the wheels turning, but this lie was a lot bigger than telling him he looked great. “Take care of yourself. And be careful.”
He stood, but didn’t take my hand. “I’m disappointed in you. And, I confess, rather angry. You came a long way to scold a tired old man who once saved your life.”
“Charlie, what if this secret electricity of yours gets out of your control?”
“It won’t.”
“I’ll bet the people in charge at Chernobyl felt that way, too.”
“That’s beyond low. I allowed you into my home because I expected gratitude and understanding. I see I was wrong on both counts. Al will show you out. I need to lie down. I’m very tired.”
“Charlie, I do feel gratitude. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. But—”
“But.” His face was stony and gray. “Always a but.”
“Secret electricity aside, I can’t work for a man who’s taking revenge on broken people because he can’t take revenge on God for killing his wife and son.”
His face went from gray to white. “How dare you?