still conversational, he said to Mary, “What level are you now running in your search for enlightenment?”
“I’m at Level Three. I hope to soon advance.”
“Excellent, ” said the Bhagwan.
He looked at the older woman. She’d been his bed partner many times. Though she was never outwardly jealous of other disciples, having her so close was taking the pleasure out of touching the blonde.
“Sister Mary,” he said. “Please take your assistant and leave me with this nameless thing.”
Two hours later, showered, dressed in white linen, sitting at the desk in his bedroom office, Shiva listened to Izzy say,
“I’ve decided on two explosions, not three. Each one a chain of several smaller blasts. For effect, I’m saying. That’s why I came back, to let you know.”
Shiva said, “ You decided.”
“That’s right, me. I decided. Two’s risky enough. I’ve done the research. I can explain it if you want. Two blasts, seven days, maybe fourteen days apart—no longer. Then I’m out of here.”
Using great patience to emphasize his sarcasm, Shiva said, “Do you mind if I know the dates? I should probably know the dates—since I’m risking the future of my entire fucking organization. ”
Used to Shiva, his bullying, Izzy remained composed. “Just give me the word. Sunday, if you want. Day after tomorrow. The first will be small. A series of three or four minor blasts—we don’t want too much attention. The second will be the big boom. Earthquake in the Everglades.”
The reality of it—it was going to happen —startled Shiva. He’d been thinking about the illusion for three years; planning, doing the groundwork, seeding it in people’s minds for more than two years.
Now here it was. He said to Izzy, “You’re serious.”
“Yep. Serious as an undertaker. Did it all by my lonesome, no witnesses, no helpers, no baggage.”
Izzy had been busy during his month away, on the road.
Shiva said the word softly— Sunday —then louder, showing some enthusiasm. “Okay. Okay. Day after tomorrow. April thirteenth, that’s Palm Sunday, isn’t it? I like that. The sooner we do it, the sooner I see results.”
Izzy told him fine, invite any of the Seminole and Miccosukee bigshots who would still take his phone calls.
Shiva said, “No, I’m done with them. To hell with those assholes, they treat me like a disease. I’m not trying anymore. Billie Egret’s people. The Egret Seminoles, her aunts and uncles. They’re the important ones.”
Shiva thought for a moment, concentrating, before he added, “We’ll let the first blast be a surprise. They’re out there in the ’Glades, not thinking about it, when they feel the earth shake. The second time, though, that’s when we make sure they’re at Sawgrass.”
Izzy told him, okay, invite Billie Egret and her relatives, anybody he wanted. Told him to get a couple hundred of his Ashram disciples, too—a thousand if he could—at his resort in the Everglades.
He said, “You start your group meditation. Use the breath drummers, all the bells and whistles. I’ll detonate whatever time you say. Morning’s good. Cameras going. Act surprised. Then like you knew it was going to happen—all that spiritual power focused. You’re good with facial expressions. Like a politician.”
Shiva said, “I don’t have to give any hints. It’s prophecy. Seminole prophecy from Tecumseh.”
Izzy said, “What ever. I leave all that to you. Best-case scenario, they accept you as the real deal. Worst case, you’re the victim of another eco-terrorist attack. Public sympathy. Either way, the timing’s important.”
Shiva was nodding, “Yes, timing . . . which is why I’m thinking . . . what I’d prefer to do is make it later in the day. This time of year, we might get an afternoon storm. Lightning would be nice. Lots of lightning and thunder.” Shiva paused. “That far away from the blast site, will we hear the explosion?”
“I’m setting it a
“I’m at Level Three. I hope to soon advance.”
“Excellent, ” said the Bhagwan.
He looked at the older woman. She’d been his bed partner many times. Though she was never outwardly jealous of other disciples, having her so close was taking the pleasure out of touching the blonde.
“Sister Mary,” he said. “Please take your assistant and leave me with this nameless thing.”
Two hours later, showered, dressed in white linen, sitting at the desk in his bedroom office, Shiva listened to Izzy say,
“I’ve decided on two explosions, not three. Each one a chain of several smaller blasts. For effect, I’m saying. That’s why I came back, to let you know.”
Shiva said, “ You decided.”
“That’s right, me. I decided. Two’s risky enough. I’ve done the research. I can explain it if you want. Two blasts, seven days, maybe fourteen days apart—no longer. Then I’m out of here.”
Using great patience to emphasize his sarcasm, Shiva said, “Do you mind if I know the dates? I should probably know the dates—since I’m risking the future of my entire fucking organization. ”
Used to Shiva, his bullying, Izzy remained composed. “Just give me the word. Sunday, if you want. Day after tomorrow. The first will be small. A series of three or four minor blasts—we don’t want too much attention. The second will be the big boom. Earthquake in the Everglades.”
The reality of it—it was going to happen —startled Shiva. He’d been thinking about the illusion for three years; planning, doing the groundwork, seeding it in people’s minds for more than two years.
Now here it was. He said to Izzy, “You’re serious.”
“Yep. Serious as an undertaker. Did it all by my lonesome, no witnesses, no helpers, no baggage.”
Izzy had been busy during his month away, on the road.
Shiva said the word softly— Sunday —then louder, showing some enthusiasm. “Okay. Okay. Day after tomorrow. April thirteenth, that’s Palm Sunday, isn’t it? I like that. The sooner we do it, the sooner I see results.”
Izzy told him fine, invite any of the Seminole and Miccosukee bigshots who would still take his phone calls.
Shiva said, “No, I’m done with them. To hell with those assholes, they treat me like a disease. I’m not trying anymore. Billie Egret’s people. The Egret Seminoles, her aunts and uncles. They’re the important ones.”
Shiva thought for a moment, concentrating, before he added, “We’ll let the first blast be a surprise. They’re out there in the ’Glades, not thinking about it, when they feel the earth shake. The second time, though, that’s when we make sure they’re at Sawgrass.”
Izzy told him, okay, invite Billie Egret and her relatives, anybody he wanted. Told him to get a couple hundred of his Ashram disciples, too—a thousand if he could—at his resort in the Everglades.
He said, “You start your group meditation. Use the breath drummers, all the bells and whistles. I’ll detonate whatever time you say. Morning’s good. Cameras going. Act surprised. Then like you knew it was going to happen—all that spiritual power focused. You’re good with facial expressions. Like a politician.”
Shiva said, “I don’t have to give any hints. It’s prophecy. Seminole prophecy from Tecumseh.”
Izzy said, “What ever. I leave all that to you. Best-case scenario, they accept you as the real deal. Worst case, you’re the victim of another eco-terrorist attack. Public sympathy. Either way, the timing’s important.”
Shiva was nodding, “Yes, timing . . . which is why I’m thinking . . . what I’d prefer to do is make it later in the day. This time of year, we might get an afternoon storm. Lightning would be nice. Lots of lightning and thunder.” Shiva paused. “That far away from the blast site, will we hear the explosion?”
“I’m setting it a
Similar Books
