The Mormon Candidate - a Novel (60 page)

With this, the ancient prophets taught the mesmerized audience more hand signs. Ben practiced with Pat the Sign of the Nail by pressing his index fingers into one
another’s palms, and the Sure Sign of the Nail, which was more complicated
,
connecting intertwined fingers and pressing against one
another’s pulse. The pantomimed penalties were then dramatized,
representing the
death and mayhem
that would come
to those who betray the
secrets of the
True Church.

To facilitate moving to the next room, part of the movie screen disappeared, and as if
by
magic
,
a white, wall-sized curtain
came down
. It symbolized the
separation between this world
and the next
—the
exalted Celestial Kingdom awaiting the righteous Mormon
s
aints and their wives
too, but only
if their husband
s
chose to bring them through.

The men began to pass
via
slits in the heavy curtain and then reached to
hold
their wives
, who remained on the side of the Lone and Dreary World
.
Ben realized
that
the husbands,
some
of whom
were
grooms in the process of marrying these girls today, test
ed
the
women
on all the signs, tokens, and oaths taken today before they br
ought
them
through the curtain
into the symbolic Celestial Kingdom.

Bother
Pat passed first and reached through the slit in the curtain
for
Ben
, or rather,
for
the dead Jew for whom Ben was
a
proxy. There w
as
more
re
playing
of the
hand
signs
, secret
tokens
,
and whisper
ing
of secret names
and incantations
that Ben didn’
t quite follow
. H
e
was occupied with watching
one of the temple workers go through the routine with the Ghost
.

Finally
Brother
Pat declared, “Well
done, thou g
ood and faithful servant, enter you into the joy of the Lord!” He grasped Ben’s arm in one of the secret handshake maneuvers and jerked him forward and through the slit in the curtain into a vast room that was breathtakingly beautiful
—and very familiar!

The unnatural magnificence of
the Celestial
Kingdom
hall
had an almost bewitching effect on
Ben
, who struggled to remain focused on
the reality of his situation. Craning his head, he was captivated by the ceiling, which was
much higher than in the previous room
. It
was
artfully divided into lit-up squares and lined with glistening chandeliers. Around him, the
s
aints and their women
, angelically white in their
flowing
robes
,
either
sat in deep sofas around the walls or kneeled
at a leather-padded alter in the middle of the room, engaging in
hushed prayers. The walls were mostly windows,
not clear but hazy
white
, which
gave the whole space a
n extra-terrestrial, o
ther-worldly feel.

The Ghost, though, seem
ed
neither mesmerized nor prayerful
. Perhaps she had been here before
and was impervious to the
imitation-
Celestial Kingdom effect. It was obvious that a
ll she cared about right now was cornering him for a
silent
kill. The question was how, and her plan became more apparent as she mov
ed around the room
, gett
ing closer. Their eyes met,
her gaze dropped to his neck
, and he understood
what was on her mind:
She was going to trip him and break his neck, pretending it was an accident!

Ben
kept
away from her
by
pacing
between
kne
eling
Mormons
and along the sofas. A
s he reached a corner of the
hall,
he saw the Angel Moroni standing on
the marble floor and realized in an instant that he was looking at the same
statue
as the one in the
photo
he had seen
on the
t
emple
p
resident’s
computer screen
—the
last clue in Zachariah Hinckley’s
posthumous
t
reasure hunt!

Angel Moroni
was holding the golden tablets of the
Book of Mormon
in one hand and
in the other, a
long,
straight trumpet
,
which he was
blowing toward the gilded ceiling.

“It’s a simple trumpet.”
Brother
Pat was shadowing Ben, whispering in his ear. “
One day,
Angel Moroni
will blow the horn
to announce
Christ’s
second coming
!
”

“Third coming
,
” Ben said.

Brother Pat
blinked rapidly. “Third?”

“
Wasn’t the Second Coming when Jesus
minister
ed
to the
lost tribes of Israel in North America?”
Ben
peered closely at the statue
.

“Well…that’s not how…we count.”

“Really?” Ben
pretended to
trip and
accidently bump into the golden angel, knocking it to the floor with a loud crash
.
He
fell
over it
, hiding the base of the statue with his body
.
Women screamed, and men were rushing over.

But Ben had already found what he was looking for—just as in
the photo,
a
cardboard
floppy
disk
case
was taped to the bottom of the base.
He
tore it off and
shoved
it
into his pocket.

Brother
Pat was
pulling at his arm,
helping him up
. Ot
her
s
aints picked up the Angel Moroni, who
had
lost part of his
elbow
as well as the
top
end of his trumpet. Without the flaring
bell
of the trumpet, the Angel Moroni was left
blow
ing
into
a long
metal
rod
with a pointy end
.

In the commotion, the Ghost made
her
move, coming at Ben with
long
strides. He
headed for
the door, and she
shifted direction to block his way.
With many of the
kneeling
Mormons
now
beginning to leave
, the two of them kept moving about the large room
as if
charged by
opposite magnetic fields
.

Meanwhile
Brother
Pat and two other
t
emple workers
lifted
the Angel Moroni
and carried it toward
the door.
The statue
was heavy
,
and they took a break near the door, placing it carefully on its base
, the bell-missing trumpet pointing
upward in the direction of
Ben, who w
as
at
the opposite side of the
Celestial R
oom, having been maneuvered
there
by the Ghost
,
a
way from his only escape route.

Positioned
between him and
Angel Moroni
,
she
lowered the towel from her face, revealing the left
side,
between her cheek
bone
and jaw
—bloodied and swollen
from his two strikes
. The sight of
her mutilated face,
which she probably exposed
to shock him into temporary paralysis, instead
served as a clear message of her deadly intentions.
The
room
was almost empty now, and he
had to choose between dying and killing.

B
rother Pat and another temple worker
stood by
the door
, facing away
. It was time to act.
Ben
leaned forward
, inhaled deeply,
and broke into a
sprint
as if a winning ball was cradled in the crook of his arm
while
this
woman in white
was the only
opposite
team
player blocking hi
s way to
a game-
winning
touchdown.

S
hocked by his sudden mad rush,
the Ghost
had no time to
dodge
before h
is injured shoulder
rammed into her chest and propelled her backward
. Her hands grasped the air as s
he
fell
onto the upturned rod of Angel Moroni’s broken trumpet, which
speared
her back,
pierced
her heart, and
came out of
her chest.

Pain shot through Ben’s shoulder
. He grasped it and groaned.

T
he Ghost
’s
dying eyes followed him
as he
left the Celestial Kingdom
.
Brother Pat said something, but Ben ignored him. In a moment, they would notice the dead woman slumped over Angle Moroni, and all hell would break loose.

To the right
, the hallway reached a dead end
. There was an
emergency exit
. He pushed the bar, and a buzzer sounded as he exited into the sun.

Outside
the
t
emple
, Ben found himself in
a vast garden that was groomed t
o the point of looking unreal
.
He stripped away the white robe, the green fig
leaf belt, and the funny hat.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the
thin
cardboard
case
. It was the same brand of floppy disk as the one he had found at the Camp David
Scenic Overlook
.
He examined it, hoping to find the incriminating handwritten note that Joe Morgan had sent to Zachariah Hinckley. But it wasn’t there, which meant that this was not the real floppy disk but another clue on the way to finding it.

He put a finger into the slit
along the side and felt for a
floppy disk. Feeling nothing, he looked inside. It was empty. No floppy disk!

He turned the square cardboard case over, looking at it closely in the sun. Sure enough, there was a scribble on it—not with a pen or a pencil, but with yellow highlighter, which was only legible by holding the cardboard case at an angle against the light:

JM
SS MD

That
’
s it
?
Three pairs of
letters
?
Was it an acronym?