A Creed for the Third Millennium (40 page)

'I didn't expect to be met,' she said,
blinking.

'What, not here to greet my Judith?
Meshugge!
The ice has got into your brain.'

'You are absolutely right, it
has.'

He had a car, evidence of her increasing
importance; oh, that was a consolation!

Until they reached her house in
Georgetown they did not speak again, Dr Chasen contenting himself with sitting
and occasionally squeezing her hand, sensing her despondency and appalled that
he sensed such an alien mood in her. Judith Carriol despondent? He hadn't
thought it possible.

What paradise it was to walk into her own
dear house, flop down in one of her own dear chairs, look at her own dear
pictures on her own dear walls.

'All right, Judith, what's going on?' Dr
Chasen demanded after Dr Carriol had prepared them hot toddies.

'How can I tell you when I've given up
asking myself the same question?'

'Whose idea was it, this walking through
the snow?'

'His, of course. I'm pretty hard-driving,
Moshe, but even I couldn't push another human being to that kind of
self-torture!' she said tartly.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't really
think you were capable of it, but on the other hand I didn't think he was,
either. He struck me as more sensible.'

She laughed, not a happy sound.
'Sensible?
Moshe, he doesn't even know the meaning of the word! Oh, he
did once, but that was a long time ago. B.B.'

'B.B.?'

'Before Book'

The phone rang. Harold Magnus, impatient
and edgy.

'The President wants to see both of us
tonight,' he said.

'I see.' She debated whether to ask,
decided she had better. 'Is he displeased, Mr Magnus?'

'Hell, no! Why? Is there any reason he
should be?'

'Not at all. I'm a little distraught at
the moment — weeks and weeks on the road get to you, you know. Especially if
you're not calling the plays, but just running interference.'

'Wisconsin and Minnesota in January? I'm
not surprised. Would you like a special heating allowance to put some warmth
back into you, Judith?'

The first gesture of genuine
thoughtfulness the man had ever made her! And the first time he had ever called
her by her given name. Sufficient evidence to deduce the President was anything
but displeased.

'Believe it or not, I'm inured to the
cold,' she said, and laughed, again not a happy sound. 'Thank you for the offer.
I may take you up on it about next June.' Another laugh, more a dry cackle.
'It's going to take that long to thaw out enough to feel heat.'

'Meet me here at five-thirty,' Harold
Magnus commanded.

She hung up and turned to Moshe Chasen.
'A royal summons to the White House. Six o'clock, I presume.'

Dr Chasen drained his glass and rose.
'Then I'd better get out of your hair. You'll want to bathe and
change.'

'I'll see you tomorrow, Moshe. We can
talk better then. Take the car and have the driver drop you home. By the time he
gets back here I'll be ready.'

'Are you sure I should use your car for
myself, Judith?'

'Positive! Go, go!'

Tibor Reece was grinning from ear to ear.
'Well, my dear Dr Carriol, your Operation Messiah has certainly given the people
of this country a boost! I am delighted.'

'So am I, Mr President'

'Who gave him the idea to walk?
Brilliant!'

'He thought of it all by himself. I'm
healthy enough to tell myself I'm a very dedicated person, but going where he is
— I would never have dreamed of walking.'

Harold Magnus pursed his rubbery lips,
blew through them in a way which made them audibly vibrate. It was an irritating
habit, but the only one who ever had the courage to tell him so was his wife,
and he never took notice of her, let alone believed anything she
said.

'I wonder if you fully realize what
you've just said, Dr Carriol?' he asked. 'Walking is crazy! You don't think he's
heading that way, do you?'

Tibor Reece had one great weakness; he
always interpreted the deeds and actions of others in terms of himself. Since he
was no altruist and possessed superb political acumen, it rarely got him into
hot water, but it was there just the same, waiting for the right opportunity to
trip him up. 'Nonsense!' he said vigorously before Dr Carriol could formulate a
reply. 'It's the exact right thing to do. In the same situation I would have
done it myself.' He put his glasses on and turned to a sheaf of papers lying on
his desk. 'I won't keep you, but I did want to thank you personally for
Operation Messiah. I think it's working magnificently, and I congratulate you
both.'

Today there was no question as to whether
Dr Carriol would walk back to Environment; today she had her own car and driver,
waiting just behind the Secretary's vehicle.

'I want to see you in my office,' he said
as he separated from her at the edge of the driveway.

'I want to see you too, sir.'

Of course Mrs Helena Taverner was on duty
when Dr Carriol walked into the Secretary's suite of offices. Dr Carriol gave
the woman a smile and looked at her watch pointedly.

'Don't you ever go home?'

Helena Taverner laughed, blushed. 'Well,
he keeps such odd hours, Dr Carriol, that's the trouble. And I live quite a way
out. If I'm not here, he wrecks every system I've got looking for something. So
I have a couch in my private rest room, and I use it.'

'As long as you do,' said Dr Carriol over
her shoulder.

Harold Magnus was behind his desk,
waiting.

'Right. Total candour if you please, Dr
Carriol.'

'You shall have it, Mr
Secretary.'

'You're not a bit happy about the
situation, are you?'

'No.'

'Why? Tangible evidence aside from the
walking?'

'Difficult to answer. After all, I
christened it Messiah myself, so why should it worry me if he does indeed shows
signs of becoming Messianic?'

'Is that the crux of it?'

She sighed, sat back, lifted her head and
thought As she did Harold Magnus watched her narrowly, aware of subtle changes
in her; she was not so snakelike, not so physically disturbing. Whatever had
happened out there on the road in middle America had sucked her
brittle.

'I am a trained psychologist,' she said.
'Also a trained data statistician. Also a trained sociologist. However, I am not
a psychiatrist, nor have I ever studied mental states on a one-to-one basis. I'm
purely a group expert, and when it comes to predicting group behaviour in almost
any given situation, I doubt I have an equal within government, possibly outside
it as well. Yet one-to-one unsettles me. So I am aware that I may not be
interpreting Dr Christian's thought processes correctly, you must understand.
However, I'm sure you can appreciate why I don't want to bring
in a psychiatrist to help me decide what's wrong with Dr Christian.'

'Oh, indeed I can!' he said with
feeling.

'All I can tell you is how I feel. And my
feelings about the man are that he is no longer quite stable. Yet — the actual
concrete evidence is minimal. Delusions of grandeur? Aaaah… If so, not obvious.
Ideas of reference? Haaah... I would say definitely not. Loss of touch with
reality? Ummm... I would have to say no again. And yet — and yet — there
is
a change. Given the events of the past few months, it may be a logical
change. His current behaviour might be bizarre, but his instincts are right on
target, and his instincts guide his behaviour enormously. So there you are, back
to square one again. Is he, or isn't he? All I can tell you is that I have made
it my business to get to know him very well. And I am developing bad
vibes.'

Her answer panicked him. 'My God, Judith,
are we going to fall flat on our asses with this?'

Her given name again! Well, well. 'No,'
she said, sounding sure. 'I will never let it get to that stage. However, I do
think we — you and I — should make some contingency plans. Just in case. And we
should be ready to act when and if it becomes necessary.'

'I agree wholeheartedly. What do you
suggest? Do you see any hint of what direction he's going to fly in if he does
come apart at the seams?'

'No.'

'Then?'

'I would like half a dozen — I don't
honestly know what to call them, except what they call them in the movies!
Heavies? Heavies will do, anyway. Half a dozen heavies close enough at hand to
carry out my orders within five minutes maximum. No matter what those orders
might consist of.'

'Shit! You're not thinking of
killing
him?'

'Of course I'm not! Anything but! To
create a martyr would be disastrous. No, I just want to be prepared
at all times to bundle Dr Christian away to
an appropriate institution at a minute's notice, that's all. Which means the men
you find me ought to be trained psychiatric nurses used to dealing with extreme
violence and irrationality. They'll have to have top security clearances, and
they can't be genuine Christian cult followers. The last thing we want is any
kind of public scene. So these men will have to be really on the ball, ready if
I snap my fingers to whip Dr Christian out of wherever he is before those around
him even understand what's happened, and long before Dr Christian himself can
make a fuss.'

'You'll have the men on the plane to
Chicago with you, but from there on they'd better have their own helicopter. It
would also be best if you saw them yourself here in Washington and briefed them
thoroughly. But don't worry. I'll find you the right men for the
job.'

'Good. Good!'

'That's short-term. What about
long-term?'

'I doubt there is a long-term, because of
one thing I am absolutely sure. He will never last the distance of the tour he
plans to make. It keeps getting longer and longer, no thanks to our good Mr
Reece, I might add. And, incidentally, I wonder what might have happened to
Operation Messiah if he'd lost the election last November? I was so busy I never
even remembered to vote! Anyway, the White House keeps adding towns to his
itinerary, and after we left Chicago, Dr Christian began looking at the maps as
well. Now
he's
adding towns!'

'Shit!'

'Yes, Mr Secretary, cartloads of the
stuff. At the rate we're going, and given that from now until the end of March
the blizzards are going to slow us down a lot, it is going to take Dr Christian
another
year
to finish his tour.'

'Shit!'

'Yes, but you're sitting pretty in six
inches of nice wet Washington snow. I'm the one with Dr Christian. And frankly,
I do not think I stand a chance of lasting another year on the road. Luckily, I
don't think I'm going to need to last. Because he won't last, sir. I know it in
my bones. He is going to break into a million little pieces, and I just hope
when it happens that he's in Casper, Wyoming, not in the middle of Madison
Square Garden—' She broke off abruptly, knotting up with the beginnings of an
idea, an amazing idea, an idea that took her breath away.

'So what do we do?'

'Actually I think his mood is better
since Christmas, in spite of the new business of his picking yet more towns.
When we left Decatur, en route for Gary, he announced he didn't think it was
right to fly from town to town. He felt he ought to walk.'

'In winter?'

'Right! I dealt with it, or rather his
mother did. She earned her keep that night, I don't begrudge the expense of
toting her around too. You remember his father died in a blizzard? Well, when
Mama found out he was planning to walk from Decatur to Gary, she went bananas.
Right off her head. It was just the shock he needed to bring him to his senses.
Since then, he's definitely been more amenable to reason. Thank God!'

Harold Magnus held up his hand to silence
her, and pushed his intercom buzzer. Helena? Some coffee and sandwiches, please.
And bring your pad with you when you come, I want you to find some men for
me.'

The break was welcome, the food also;
even if he had to eat sandwiches, Harold Magnus made sure he ate the best. As a
result, Helena Taverner was obliged to keep breads and spreads in the little
kitchen off her private rest room.

However, it wasn't the break, the food or
the coffee which caused Dr Carriol's spreading sensation of utter, happy,
peaceful well-being. Washington and her own milieu were responsible. Suddenly she was
back where she belonged, her mind was functioning the way it used to, her
emotional and physical exhaustion had subsided. In short, she was feeling her
old self again. And she understood how insidious, how dangerous, Dr Joshua
Christian was to the ego and persona of Dr Judith Carriol. All those weeks of
being in close proximity to him had shifted the centre of her being the way an
irresistible gravitational field played with the light of the very stars in the
firmament. What was more, she now realized how much she detested this bending
effect, how uncomfortable and miserable she was when drawn into his sphere of
influence. This was her life, this was her natural metier. Washington!
Environment! And she began to wonder if she actually hated Joshua Christian; if
she was continuing to grow in hatred of him with each day more she was forced to
pass in his company. Her own private black hole.