Rescue

of us, Sisters and Brothers, that we must look in- ward as well as out -ward, that we must search out that which is in us and good, but drive out that which is in us and e- vil. That we must do this daily, indeed, hour- ly, so His Greater Glory might have a vessel, a worth -y vessel, to do His Holy Work here on earth, that we might en- joy His Kingdom in Heaven, when each of us is called Home to be with Him.“
    Royel Wyeth came down off the altar, jumped down, in fact, as light on his feet as a dancer, as balanced as a stunt-man. He moved along the center aisle, the gathered straining forward and sideways to be near him, but never leaving their seats or even reaching out to touch him. Instead, they let him come to them, and he did, a tilt toward this man, a hand on this woman’s shoulder, a pat on this little girl’s or boy’s head as he continued the presentation.
    “And how might we do that work, ful -fill the Holy Mission that only He can design and permit us to execute to the best of our abilities? By opening our hearts, Sisters and Brothers, and our pocket -books as well. There is no need of money in God’s Heaven, but much need of it here on His Earth. There are heathen to con -vert, and heretics to d e- nounce, and most of all Satan to resist, Satan with his temptations, Satan with his lurid glances, his sweet-sounding sins, and his eternal mort -gage on the souls that dare follow his path. The Mark of Cain is the secret, dear Brothers and Sisters, the Mark of Cain will tell us what more needs be done, once we have un- lock- e d its secrets and plumb-e d the depths of those agents of Satan among us.“
    I thought about New Hampshire, Polly Haldon mentioning the Mark of Cain, Reverend Vann Tucker describing it from the Bible. As Wyeth made his way back toward the tabernacle, another round of collection basketing took place. If anything, the contributions this time were twice what they’d been the time before, and believe it or not, I could understand why.
    You weren’t there, so the best I can do is this: Burt Lancaster was magnificent as Elmer Gantry, but since you’d already known Lancaster as a star by the time he played that role, you couldn’t entirely divorce yourself from thinking you were watching a great actor in the part of his career. Now take Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan, or Sean Connery as James Bond. If you’re like me, you never saw those actors as anything before they played those characters. As a result, for me, Tarzan was Weissmuller and Bond, Connery, rather than the other way around. Well, Royel Wyeth wasn’t just an evangelist, he was the evangelist, and if it weren’t for three annoying details, I might have given him some of my own money. The three details were that I was pretty sure he’d had something to do with Melinda’s death and Eddie Haldon’s disappearance, very sure he’d had more than something to do with my having to kill Lonnie Severn, and damned sure he was crazy. Sincere, and perhaps the greatest stage presence I’d ever seen live, but absolutely stark, raving nuts.
    I sensed the crazy part when he hit the Mark of Cain section of the speech. I thought it was the only aspect of the presentation that seemed out of phase. I watched Lutrice Wyeth, seeing her drawn-tight eye corners wobble just a little, the best she could do for wincing and covering it. The Reverend Royel Wyeth was effective, but only because he believed every word he said. In spades and to the bone.
    “And so, Sisters and Brothers, after you have open-e d yourselves to Him, He can open himself to you. The Lord Jesus can come down off that cross of wood, down off that Mercy Tree on which he died so that we might live, so that we might pros-per and sing prais -es to His Name. A -men, I say. A -men to you all.“
    Wyeth finished the tirade just as he reached the altar, the crowd jumping to its feet again. I joined them.
    My mentor nudged me in the ribs. I had to bend down so she could yell in my ear. “Oh, isn’t he just wonderful?“
    I nodded and yelled into hers. “There’s a lot of Ronald Reagan in that man.“
    She continued applauding wildly. “Oh, I couldn’t agree more!“
    I expected to have trouble predicting the end of the show, but after we all sat down once more and both Wyeths and some of the collection basket folks began an a capella version of “Jesus, the Cross I Bear,“ I counted out a wad of twenty fifties. While the hymn’s last note hung in the air, I got up in a