Brimstone

"Excuse me." She tried to step past the guardian.

Buck nodded to the man, who took a step to the side. Then Buck looked back at her, but the look was such she was unsure whether he was seeing her, or seeing through her.

"Reverend, I've been sent by the NYPD to ask you and your followers a favor.” Keep it chatty, informal, nonintimidating. That's what she had learned in negotiations training. Let them think they're making the decisions.

But Buck showed no sign of having heard.

The crowd had fallen ominously silent. She didn't turn, but she sensed it had grown enormous by now-no doubt much of the encampment.

"Look, Reverend, we've got a problem. Your followers are ruining the park, trampling the bushes, killing the grass. On top of that, they've been using the surroundings as a public latrine. The neighbors are complaining. It's a health hazard, especially for you all."

She paused, wondering if any of this was sinking in.

"Reverend, can you help us out here?"

She waited. Buck said nothing.

"I need your help."

She heard restless murmuring in the crowd behind her. People were flowing in around the back side of Buck's tent, filling her field of vision. She was truly surrounded now.

"I've got a deal to offer you. I think it's a fair deal. A straight deal."

Ask what it is, asshole.  It was crucial to get him talking, asking questions, anything . But he said nothing. He continued looking at her, looking past her. Christ, she had somehow misjudged him-or something had changed since their last visit. This was not the same man.

For the first time, the real possibility of failure loomed before her.

"You want to hear it?"

No response.

She forged gamely ahead. "First, the health hazard. We don't want you or your followers to get sick. We'd like you to give your people a day off. That's all-a day off. Let them go home, shower, have a hot meal. In return, we'll give you a parade permit that'll allow you to gather lawfully with the city's blessing. Not like this, wrecking the park, a

She stopped. Don’t say too much. Let him come round.

All around them, an air of expectancy had grown. Everyone was waiting for the reverend to speak. It all depended on Buck.

At last, he moved. He blinked, raised his hand slowly, almost robotically. The tension increased with the silence. It was so silent, in fact, Hayward could hear birds chirping in the trees around them.

The hand came around and pointed at her.

"Centurion," he said in a voice so low it was barely more than a whisper.

It was like the release of pressure from a cooker. “Centurion!" came the sudden cry of the crowd. "Soldier of Rome!" The throng jostled and shoved as it began to close in.

For the first time, Hayward felt a stab of real fear. Failure was becoming a foregone conclusion, but there was more than her career at stake now. This crowd was dangerously aroused.

"Reverend, if your answer is no-"

But Buck had turned away, and now, to her overwhelming dismay, he was entering his tent, lifting the flap, disappearing inside. More people streamed in where he'd stood, filling the gap.

He'd left her to the mercy of the crowd.

She turned to face them. Now it was time to get the hell out. "All right, folks, I know when to take no for an answer-"

"Silence, Judas!"

Hayward saw sticks once again, swaying above the heads. It amazed her how ugly a crowd could get, so quickly. She had failed, failed miserably. Her career was ruined, no question. The real question was whether she could get out in one piece.

"I'm leaving," she said loudly and firmly. "I'm leaving, and I expect to be allowed to leave peacefully. I am an officer of the law."

She moved toward the wall of people, but this time no path opened. She kept walking, expecting, hoping for, them to fall back. But they didn't. Several hands reached out and shoved her back-hard.

"I came in peace!" she said loudly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "And I'm leaving in peace!" She took another step toward the wall of people, coming face-to-face with Todd. He was brandishing something in one hand. A rock.

"Don't do anything stupid," she said.

He raised his hand as if to throw. She immediately took a step toward him, looking into his eyes, just as one would do with a dangerous dog. It was always the crazies who got to the front of a hot crowd. The followers stayed back, hoping for a good lick once the adversary was down and helpless. But these front ones, they were the killers.

Todd took a step back. "Judas bitch," he said, waving the rock threateningly.

Reaching down inside and searching for calm, Hayward quickly reviewed her options. If she pulled her piece, that would be the end. Sure, by firing into the air she might drive them back for a moment, but they would be on her in a flash and she'd be forced to shoot into the crowd. And then she'd be dead meat. She could call Rocker, but it would be ten minutes at least before he could mobilize and move in. Blood would be up, and he'd meet immediate resistance. By the time they reached her .     God, she didn't have ten minutes, she didn't even have five.

The only one who could control this crowd was Buck, and he was in his tent.

She backed up, turning in a slow circle. The crowd was so thick she couldn't even see his tent anymore. And she was being pushed away from it, as if the crowd wanted to keep the unpleasantness of what was to come away from him. Taunts and chanting rose from all sides.

She searched her mind desperately for something useful from her training. Crowd psychology was something that interested her, especially after the Wisher Riots a few years back. Problem was, an angry crowd did not behave like a normal human being. A crowd did not respond to the cues of body language. A crowd did not listen to anything except itself. You could not reason with a crowd. A crowd would enthusiastically commit an act of violence no single member would normally condone.

"Centurion!" Todd had taken another step forward, emboldened, the crowd consolidating behind him. Hysterically angry. They weren't going to hurt her-they were going to kill her.

"Buck!" she shouted, turning, but it was hopeless, he couldn't hear over the taunts of the crowd.

She faced them again. "You call yourselves Christians?" she screamed. "Look at you!"

Wrong move. It just pushed their anger up a notch. But it was all she had left.

"Ever heard of turning the other cheek? Loving thy neighbor-"

"Blasphemer!" Todd shook his rock, the crowd flowing with him.

She was really frightened now. She took a step back, felt herself shoved from behind. Her voice cracked. "In the Bible, it says-"

"She's blaspheming the Bible!"

"You hear her?"

"Shut her up!"

A dead end. Hayward knew she was out of time. She had to figure out something before the stones came raining down. Once the first was thrown, it wouldn't stop until it was over.

The problem was, she'd exhausted all her options. There was nothing left to do.

Nothing.

{ 77 }

At five minutes to nine, D'Agosta turned from the window to see Pendergast rising calmly from the sofa, where he had been lying motionless for the past half hour. Earlier, the agent had established he could open the door with his lock-picking tools, but he seemed uninterested in exploring, so he'd relocked it and they had waited.