The Righteous (9 page)

Enoch replaced the vial and shut the lid. Taped to the top of each cooler was a manila envelope with a name, a phone number, a clinic, and an address. He looked inside one of the envelopes. It was stuffed with hundred dollar bills.

Enoch backed out of the van and shut the door, then climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Before he drove off, he looked at the second slip of paper.

It read:

Jennifer and Samuel Gold

7705 East Landover Rd.

Oakland

Below this, in Gideon’s spidery hand, the chilling script, “
Let the blood of the wicked be spilled to justify the souls of the righteous.”

He stared at the paper, reading it again and again. Death had come to his hands. Enoch had become the Destroying Angel.

#

Jacob fought the urge to cower when he saw the two men with baseball bats. Eliza cried out and fell back. If he had allowed it, terror would have doomed him. Fear begat fear. It would drain the blood from his head and leave him weak as an old man.

The first man rushed at him with bat poised to deliver a crushing blow.

Jacob did not submit to fear. False bravado could substitute for the real thing. The two men would be just as juiced with adrenaline and he could turn it to his advantage.

He lifted his right arm to the square and said in a commanding voice, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to halt!”

The effect was electric. The two men stopped short. Eliza’s cry strangled in her throat. Jacob felt the power of his own words even though they had been said with all cynicism.

Jacob cocked back his fist and punched the first man in the nose. A satisfying crunch. The man lowered his baseball bat and Jacob grabbed for it. He twisted it from the man’s grasp and shoved the end into the man’s stomach, driving him backward.

The second man came on the attack now, his bat swinging wildly. Jacob parried his blows easily, but couldn’t get back on the offensive. The other man recovered and moved to join the battle, albeit unarmed this time.

Eliza had regained her wits. She snatched the liquid globe from the lava lamp at the nightstand and hurled it at the man with a bat. He lifted the bat to parry the globe. Jacob caught him a blow on the shoulder as the man lifted his guard. Jacob wrenched the other man’s bat loose and tossed it behind him. Eliza picked it up. She waved it shakily. Nevertheless, they were now armed, and their opponents were not.

“You fool,” the first man said. He clutched a hand to his nose. Blood trickled between his fingers. “You are playing with fire.”

“Is that you, Gideon?” Jacob asked. It had been too long since he’d seen the man to tell from his voice. “And you?” he said to the other. The other man hadn’t spoken, and he wondered if this were deliberate. He would recognize Taylor Junior’s hoarse voice in an instant. “Is that Taylor Junior?”

“Consider this your warning,” the one he thought of as Gideon said.

“A warning? Were you going to beat me within an inch of my life, is that it? Maybe rape my sister? Is that what you mean by a warning? I don’t think so. I think that crap about blood atonement was your way of justifying my murder.” No answer from the others. He continued, “But you failed. Maybe you should consider this
your
warning. I’m on the errand of the prophet. The Lord won’t permit you to stop me.”

The words sounded right when they came out of his mouth and he could see they had some effect on the men. For the moment, they did not move. They would be torn between their desire to complete the murderous task and fear.

He pushed his advantage. “Who are you?” No answer. “Who sent you?”

Without a word, the two men turned to leave. He let them. Moments later, Jacob and Eliza were alone. The entire incident had lasted just minutes.

And now the aftereffects of adrenaline washed over him. His hands shook and he was so light-headed that he had to sit down on the bed. He bent over and breathed deeply.

“Wow,” Eliza said. She put back the globe from the lava lamp. To his surprise, it had not broken. “Where did that come from?”

“What?” He sat up.

“Your words. It was like God had taken hold of you. I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”

“Ah, I see.” How could he tell her? The words had not come from God. They’d been his own, calculated and cynical.

Whatever the source, they had bolstered Eliza’s confidence.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here. Before they come back to finish the job.”

“Can we go back to Utah?”

“Not yet, no. We’ll find a place to hang out until we can find Enoch. He’s bound to come back soon.”

But he didn’t. Eliza and Jacob found a cheap hotel room a few blocks away, paid for in cash. In the morning they called Enoch’s apartment several times, but there was no answer. Jacob left Eliza in the room while he went to Caesar’s Palace. No, Enoch wasn’t there. As a matter of fact he’d called that morning requesting two weeks leave to take care of urgent family business.

And it sank in that he wasn’t returning. Not anytime soon. He shared the news with Eliza when he returned to the hotel.

“What now?”

“We could spin our wheels in Vegas for a long time. I don’t have any other addresses or phone numbers. No way we’ll find anyone here just wandering around.” He shrugged. “So it’s back to Blister Creek. There, at least, we have a lead. We know the Kimballs are involved somehow.”

She said, “Assuming that one of the Kimballs—say, Gideon or Taylor Junior—killed my cousin, we still haven’t answered why. What possible motive do they have?”

“She betrayed them in some fashion,” Jacob said. “But it’s not so simple as that, because Enoch is mixed up in this, too. There’s something else going on.”

Eliza said nothing, but she looked troubled.

#

Jacob made Eliza drive back to Blister Creek. It was Tuesday afternoon and five days since they’d found Amanda’s body. Eliza didn’t mind the drive. Sitting in the hotel room that morning she had done nothing but stew in her own thoughts. She worried about Enoch, worried about Jacob. And she was afraid for herself.

Once they escaped the snarl of traffic around the city, the freeway stretched straight and empty for mile after mile. They stopped for dinner in Mesquite, a gambling oasis just inside the Nevada border.

Jacob read while Eliza drove. He had pilfered books of Mormon history from Enoch’s apartment. As they cut through the top of Arizona and back into Utah via the magnificent Virgin River Gorge, just south of St. George, Jacob stopped to rub his temples. “I hate reading in the car.”

“So take a break. Enjoy the scenery.”

“Can’t,” he said. “Enoch is right about one thing, you know.”

“That we ignored his troubles?”

“Ignore is a neutral word. Abandon is more accurate.”

“You didn’t. You said you found Enoch one other time?”

He nodded. “Dad told me not to. Enoch had called the house and left a message on the machine. Drunk, I think. He was begging for help and forgiveness. Dad told me it would be a waste of time. But I took the phone number Enoch left and tracked him down. By the time I arrived in Vegas a couple of weeks later, he was no longer asking for help. He was hostile, in fact. But quite sober.”

“He’d probably already taken up with the Lost Boys,” Eliza said. It was odd, though, that a drunk Enoch had asked for forgiveness. A sober Enoch had decided that no forgiveness was necessary. Not from them, at least.

“Maybe so. At the time I thought Dad was right. It had been a waste of time. Now I think I gave up too easily. I should have pushed him. Should have insisted he get out of Vegas.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” she told him. “You had no choice. The church teaches us to shun apostates.”

“There’s always a choice, Liz. Anyway, think how self-serving that injunction is, anyway. What’s the cardinal sin in the church? The sin against the Holy Ghost. Even the murderer or the adulterer gets some measure of glory in the next world. But turn your back on the church and that’s it. God throws you into Outer Darkness when you die. Think about that for a moment.”

She already had. “Apostates are dangerous. Someone who has the truth and then decides the gospel is not for him. We’ve either got to be wrong, or the apostates are enemies of God.”

“Quite. It’s like the church is a foxhole and shells are raining down on us from all sides. It sucks, but at least we’re in it together. Then suddenly one guy puts down his gun and climbs out of the foxhole waving a white flag. Hey! What’s that guy doing? He’s going over to the other side. Shoot him in the back!” He looked out the window. “We shot Enoch in the back.”

Jacob turned back to his book and a few minutes later said, “Here, I found it. Pull over.”

She pulled off the freeway just outside St. George and parked at a Chevron station. He handed over the book and pointed to a picture. It showed two sides of a medallion, together with some sort of hieroglyphic or astrological signs. “Is this what Enoch was wearing?”

She studied the picture. She’d only had a glimpse of the one around Enoch’s neck, but it looked right. “I think so.” She read the inscription. “A Jupiter Medallion. What’s that?”

“Joseph Smith wore the Jupiter Medallion against his breast at the time of his martyrdom. It was a totem of divine protection, something like the temple garments, but more esoteric.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Neither had I. Just reading about it now.”

“But where did Enoch get this thing?” Eliza asked. “Do Gideon and the others wear these medallions as well?”

“No idea.” He read from the book, “Typically a person born under Jupiter will have the dignity of a natural ruler. He knows what is due him and expects to receive respect accordingly. In physical appearance the highly developed Jupiterian is strong, personable, and often handsome.”

“Handsome? We’re not talking any of the Kimballs, then. Taylor Junior is about as handsome as an earthworm. Seriously, though, what does it mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But there was a lot of symbolic stuff in the early church. Sunstones, masonic symbols, that kind of thing. Joseph Smith liked to study hieroglyphs, Hebrew, old esoteric rituals. This is something like that. Like I said, it’s probably nothing.” He tossed the book into the back seat. “Let’s gas up and get back on the road. Want me to drive?”

She welcomed the chance to pass off the driving responsibilities and take a nap. As she drifted off, she heard Jacob mutter, “Only I’ve seen the Jupiter Medallion somewhere else. But where?”

Elder Kimball sat in the buffet hall at Circus Circus, eating from a dinner available in quantities that would satisfy the greediest glutton. Several of said gluttons had taken up residence at the next table and made repeated forays to the buffet, returning each time with huge mounds of food. Kimball found the food unimpressive. The breadsticks were stale, the pork chops overcooked. There was soggy pasta, pre-whipped mashed potatoes, and potato wedges that had sat too long under a heat lamp.

Jacob Christianson had died and he was eating a cheap, never-ending buffet in a casino in the heart of modern-day Gomorrah.

And Kimball had authorized the murder. If his enemies ever learned the truth, there would be hell to pay. Abraham Christianson and indeed, half the population of Harmony, would come to Blister Creek looking for revenge.

His son arrived at last. Gideon stepped into the restaurant and looked around for his father, not seeing him at first. The man’s nose was swollen, perhaps broken, and his eyes were bloodshot. He studied the room with all the intensity of a contract killer before fixing on his father.

But he didn’t come directly. Instead, he made his way to the buffet. He took a plate and made his way gradually down the line, scooping up country fried steak, beef tips, fried chicken, pork chops, and buffalo wings.

Elder Kimball was irritated by the time Gideon took his seat across the table. He eyed the plate. “What, are you a carnivore? You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Love this place. Come here all the time.” Gideon stuffed beef tips into his mouth, letting grease and gravy run down his chin before mopping it up lazily with his tongue. “So you’ve eaten already.”

“Yes, and what took you so long? I’ve been here for forty-five minutes, waiting. And why didn’t you call me last night?”

“Too bad I didn’t know Jacob Christianson better. I thought he’d be like Enoch.”

This was the way it went between them. Kimball would ask questions that received no answers. At one time, Kimball had worked with members of the church, but thanks to Abraham Christianson’s interference, that avenue had closed. Instead, Kimball had been forced to seek out Gideon and the other Lost Boys, who sometimes followed their own agenda. That’s what came from living in Vegas.

“What happened? Did you take care of things?”

Gideon pushed aside the onions from his sweet and sour Chinese and forked a deep fried pork ball into his mouth. “Enoch wouldn’t have stood up to me like that. Oh, maybe he’d have crept around behind my back, but certainly no open defiance. Jacob fought back. I was unprepared.”

Elder Kimball let out his breath. “Dammit. You had a plan. It was simple.”

“Sure, simple to someone sitting in my apartment, watching TV. Yes, I had a plan. It failed.”

“Jacob is still alive.”

“That’s what I mean by failure, alright.”

What a pathetic, no-good excuse for a son the Lord had seen fit to send him. None of his sons were worth a damn, truth be told. Taylor Junior was a coward and bully in turns, Harold was a chronic masturbator, he suspected Nephi of being a sodomite, as was Ronald, if he was honest with himself. William was a liar and Ammon had been caught more than once trying to molest his younger sisters. The older sons were mentally strong but morally weak. The younger boys, mentally weak, but morally strong.

His daughters, on the other hand, took after Kimball’s mother, a bright, iron-willed woman who had always followed the straight and narrow and demanded the same of others. They outdid their brothers in every way imaginable. It was in his female posterity that any spark currently rested.