Hotline to Murder

And in ten minutes, when they expected to ascend into heaven, what would happen? Would Nathan kill Tina and then himself if the miracle didn’t occur immediately? There was no way to tell. He had killed Joy. He was capable of anything.
    Shahla was pulling the white tarpaulin out of the back of the truck. “Help me,” she said.
    “What’s this for?”
    “I’ll tell you when we get it to the edge.”

    CHAPTER 39
    Tony hoped that Shahla was clear of the path that went from him to the plateau. He had watched her start down it, with trepidation, but she had almost immediately melted into the dark.
    He couldn’t wait any longer. He turned on the flashlight and propped it up on a small rock, right at the edge of the cliff, so that the light shone upward at a steep angle. Then he picked up part of the tarp and wrapped it around his body. Fortunately, he didn’t have to pick up the whole thing, just enough to give the appearance that he was wearing a white robe. In the dark, nobody would see him that clearly, anyway.
    When he had the tarp positioned around him, he looked at his watch. At one minute to twelve he stepped in the path of the beam of light and raised his arms. He was impersonating Jesus. Jesus, who was bidding the faithful welcome to heaven. At first, nobody below seemed to see him. And then somebody shouted.
    The singing stopped. Now they saw him. They must be looking up at him. Good. This was the distraction Shahla needed so that she could free Tina. If she could find her. She had taken the box cutter to cut any tape holding Tina. But even though he had urged her to take the crowbar, she had refused.
    As Tony watched, the lights started moving—toward him. The people were climbing the path because he was going to lead them to heaven. He hadn’t figured on this. And they were chanting. What were they saying? As the sound became louder, he understood. They were chanting the name “Jesus” over and over. The path was narrow, and they had to climb slowly, in single file, but still he started to panic. What would happen when they reached him and found out that he wasn’t Jesus?
    He had to hold his position as long as he could, to give Shahla a chance. Sweat poured down his face, in spite of the night chill. The faithful would be plenty mad when they found out the truth. Fortunately, it was taking them some time to ascend the steep hill. Now he could begin to see their faces, by the light of the candles. Could they make his out? Did he look enough like Jesus?
    He couldn’t stay here any longer. He dropped the tarp, picked up the flashlight and ran a few feet away from the edge, out of sight. Then he stopped. What should he do? He pondered his options. He couldn’t drive away in the truck because he couldn’t leave Shahla and Tina here, with Nathan on the loose. It would be impossible to turn it around in the dark, anyway, without driving off the cliff. But he also couldn’t face the angry multitude. If they did him bodily harm, he wouldn’t be able to help anybody. He closed and locked the doors of the truck and then went a few feet down the other side of the ridge and hid behind some brush.
    Tony positioned himself so that he would be able to see the people as they reached the top of the ridge, especially if they still had their candles, but they wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark. He waited, not daring to move. The chanting grew louder.
    He thought he heard a scream from below, but the sound was muffled by the chanting, and he couldn’t tell for sure. And it sounded far away. Maybe he had imagined it. Could he ignore it? He heard it again. No. He had to check. He came out of his hiding place, went to the edge of the cliff and carefully looked down, not showing himself. The leaders were almost to the top. He could follow the movement of the line of people, slowly climbing the hill. But he couldn’t see anything else.
    Tony retreated to his hiding place and secreted himself again. Just in time. The leader rose out of the earth. A head came first, followed by a body. A second person materialized. Three, four, eight—now there were a dozen. And the number grew steadily as more and more people appeared.
    They ignored the tarpaulin that he had left in a heap. They also ignored the truck. Those who were fit assisted the ones who were lame. It was a peaceful group—peaceful, but expectant. They kept chanting the name of their Lord. They thought this was it—that the Ascension was really