Randy White: Everglades

Averting her eyes, the pale blonde moved uneasily from Bhagwan Shiva’s feet to his side, her breathing slightly more rapid as the man’s long fingers moved up the ridges of her ribs, and touched the underside of her right breast. Then he squeezed her left breast, fingers creating streaks of sweat on the swollen curvature of flesh.

His tone 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 half mile or so from the resort, but it’s all underground. So a rumble maybe, not much. I’m guessing. I’m new at faking earthquakes, so who knows?”

“But we’ll feel it. On the reservations, the Miccosukee and the Seminole, they’ll feel it?”

Izzy said, “Oh, they’ll feel it. At Brighton and Big Cypress, twenty, thirty miles away. A little tingle through the ankles. The National Seismic Network has a monitoring station in Orlando, and the University of Florida has a tele-dyne, a seismograph, in the ’Glades near Flamingo. Their equipment picks up quarry blasts. So you’ll have proof. No one can say it was mass hypnosis, any of that bullshit.”

On Shiva’s desk were the notes he’d made during his conference call with his San Francisco people.

It had not gone well. They could not speak openly, of course-he had reason to believe that the Feds were monitoring his phone calls. But Shiva could hear the fear in the Ashram manager’s voice when he asked, “Do you know what the average prison sentence is in California for rape?”

Shiva got the clear impression that the manager would choose to turn state’s evidence against the Ashram rather than fight a felony charge.

Shiva looked at his notes briefly, then pushed them aside. He said, “Izzy, there’s one thing you need to understand here. We’ve got to make this work. Nothing-absolutely nothing-we can’t let anything get in our way.”

Izzy was sitting on an orange sofa that had carved teak armrests: elephants and jackals. He’d changed clothes. Was now wearing dress slacks, a satin dinner jacket, black-and-white loafers, his hair blow-dried and sprayed in place.

Coming into the room, he’d checked his watch: eight-fifteen. He wanted to wrap this up; hit the Friday night meat markets, have a few drinks and do some dancing.

Or maybe drive down to Coconut Grove, hop in the boat and check out Sally Minster’s house, see if she really had gone to Sanibel. The woman liked to walk around her bedroom in bra and panties; no idea someone could watch her from the water. He liked the thought of that.

Plus, he’d installed the two minicameras in her bedroom. Those videos could be interesting.

Sitting comfortably, showing how relaxed he was, Izzy replied, “I’m not letting anything get in my way, Jerry. I’ve got a lot on the line myself.”

Shiva said, “That means communication between the two of us is damned important.”

Izzy waited, thinking, Oh, shit, here we go again.

“I’m impressed with what you’ve got going, all the planning you’ve done, but I’m going to be frank. I don’t like the idea of you changing plans without even consulting me.”

“That’s what I’m doing now. Consulting-”

“No, no you’re not. You’re telling me. Two blasts, not three. In eighteen eleven, when Tecumseh prophesied the Mississippi earthquakes, there was a series of tremors-”

“Yeah, well, I don’t much care about what some dead Indian predicted two hundred years ago.” Izzy held both palms out, getting peeved. “You don’t need to know all the details, Jerry. I don’t want you to know the details. I have people in the right places. The whole thing’s set. So just take my word for it.”

Raising his voice, Shiva said, “ I make the decisions in this organization-”

“Not when it comes to covering my ass, you don’t. You want some stooge, find yourself another guy.”

Izzy fumed for a moment before he added, “Maybe it is time for me to quit. Maybe write that book I always wanted to do. Call it Behind the Curtain with Bhagwan Shiva. Start off with the gag where you made the one-armed girl whole again. How many people converted that night? Couple thousand? I wonder how they’d feel if they found out the truth-your one-armed miracle girl got paid a bundle… and so did her twin.”