Warren Murphy - The Final Crusade

"Thanks," said the Reverend Eldon Sluggard as he wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow. After changing handkerchiefs twice, he saw that the cloth was still coming away sopping. He was thinking that for once he wasn't positively inspired. He was negatively inspired. If he didn't pull in enough recruits to make a difference, his head was going to end up on a post in Persiaor whatever it was called now. "Now, do me a favor? Clear out all these technical people and get me Victoria Hoar."

"Check."

While Reverend Sluggard waited, someone came up behind him.

"I just wanted to tell you," a voice said while Reverend Sluggard jumped a foot into the air with fright, "what an inspiring sermon that was."

"Whoee! Don't you sneak up on me like that again!" said the Reverend Sluggard when he recognized his bodyguard.

"Sorry!" Remo said in a sheepish voice.

" 'S all right. Ah get really wound up after one of these things. "

"I was wondering if you could explain something to me."

"What's that?"

"You were talking about repentance earlier. When I was a kid, we'd go to confession, the priest blessed us, and we had to say a few 'Hail Marys,' a couple of 'Our Fathers,' and an 'Act of Contrition.' But how does it work here?"

"Got sins hanging heavy on your soul?"

"Well," Remo admitted, "it's been a while."

"Do you feel sorry for them, son?" asked Reverend Sluggard, his voice sinking into an oily unctuousness.

"Yeah. "

"And you want the good Lord to forgive you?"

"Do you think he would?"

"How much money you got on you?"

"Money?" Remo said vaguely. He dug into his wallet. "I don't know," he said as he started to count out the contents. "Maybe-"

"That's enough," said Eldon Sluggard, snatching the money away. "You're forgiven."

"I am?" Remo asked blankly.

"Ah said so, didn't Ah?"

"But it doesn't seem ... I mean it. . ."

"Son, when you used to tell the priest about how sinful you were, how long did it take you to go right on doing what you were ashamed to tell the priest you were doing in the first place?"

"Oh, a couple of days. A week at most."

"And you know why?"

"No."

"Because all the priest asked of you was to say a few prayers. Prayers are easy, son. Prayers are cheap. Any sinner can pray. But money, that's different. Do you for one godly minute think that if every sinner had to fork over his grocery money when he confessed to sin, he'd be so quick to keep right on sinnin'?"

"No..." Remo said slowly.

"No! That's right! No, he would not. He'd waver. He'd think twice, and then thrice. Because money is substantial. Money is important. Everyone knows it. Don't you think God knows it too? That's why he sent you here."

"Actually, it was someone else's idea," Remo put in.

"Someone who was inspired by the Holy Spirit!" Remo's brow gathered in thought. He tried to imagine Dr. Harold W. Smith motivated by the Holy Spirit. The image wouldn't come. Maybe he wasn't imagining hard enough.

"The Holy Spirit brought you here. And you know why?" Before Remo could open his mouth, Reverend Eldon Sluggard answered his own question. "Because he knew you needed saving and that the starving people of Ethiopia needed this money. This is God's money now. It's gonna be put to good use. And so are you. Tell you what. Ah'm gonna confer with one of mah advisers about how best to get this money to Ethiopia. Why don't you check on security?"

"I had another question," Remo started to say.

"Time enough for that later. Now, off with you. We gotta keep this house of the Lord inviolate from the heathen. "

Reluctantly Remo left the studio. Reverend Eldon Sluggard watched him go.

"That boy may be fast with his hands," Reverend Eldon Sluggard muttered, "but he won't win no contests for mental brilliance."

When Victoria Hoar found Reverend Sluggard, he was counting Remo's money.

"How are the new security people working out?" she asked.

"Ah may not have to pay the tall one. He fell for the old cash-for-forgiveness hustle. But that ain't why Ah called you. We got another problem."

"What's that?"

"My legal staff says we're being sued. Over one of those recruits. His parents say they ain't heard from him."

"I thought you had your staff writing letters home for all of them to cover their disappearance."

"Ah did. This is the one what went pacifist on me during the last phase of training. He had seen too much, so we convinced him that if he carried the banner of the Crusade, he wouldn't have to carry a weapon. but Ah guess he wrote home that he was quittin' before we got his mind turned around. Now his folks are yellin' and carryin' on that their son has been kidnapped or some fool thing."

"This could get serious when the relatives of the other recruits hear of this."

"Ah hadn't counted on them all dyin'," Reverend Eldon Sluggard complained. "What was wrong with them? They had the best weapons money could buy. The best trainin'. And most of all, they had motivation. They should have torn through them ragheads like a pack of buzz saws."

"The next Crusade will have to be better-trained and better-equipped. "

"And better-motivated," added Reverend Sluggard. "It's mah sacred ass."

"I have an idea how to do that."

"Yeah? Lemme hear."

"At a more opportune time. We have better things to do. "

"Amen. While we're alone," Reverend Sluggard suggested, breaking out into a Cheshire grin, "how about a little unholy communion?"

"Not now. I want to check on the new security people. They could be a problem."

"Ah noticed you been eyeing the tall one."

"Of course. If he's drooling over me, he won't see the obvious. "

"Good point. But one thing Ah still ain't figured out: who are they? How can they do all that weird stuff they do?"

"I don't know. But I think the technique they used on the old security chief was created by the ninjas."

"Which sect are they? Ah don't pay too much attention to cults."

"The ninjas were Japanese espionage agents. They possessed remarkable stealth and killing tactics."

"That would make the old man a Japanese. But not the white one. He ain't no more Japanese than my daddy. "

"Who knows? But I'll find out. As long as Remo believes in your ministry, and my smile, we can control him. "

"Amen, sister."

Chapter 16

Rashid Shiraz had no problem with Customs at Montreal International Airport. His passport was in order. It identified him as Barsoom Basti, a Turk. No one from Lebanon to Ankara would mistake Rashid for a Turk, but in the West they clumped all dusky-skinned people into one racial lump they called Arabs. The guard stamped his passport automatically.

This was the crucial moment. He had gone first, in case the American made a mess of it. He could still run. And in Montreal, which was fast becoming the Vienna of the modern espionage world, there were many people and many places that would provide Rashid Shiraz with safe haven.

Lamar Booe offered his passport. It too was false. It identified him as an Englishman. If Lamar spoke softly, his twangy American accent would not betray him.

Lamar answered the questions in a dull monosyllabic tone and Rashid nodded. It was working. The man was so broken that he would do whatever Rashid asked-even without prompting.

The passport was stamped with a bang and Lamar joined Rashid. They walked from the airport and took a cab to a certain hotel. Within an hour, two Iranians were knocking at the door.

"Is this the dog?" asked one in a hard voice.

"Yes. Pitiful, is he not?"

"Yes," said the Iranian. He turned his attention back to Rashid. "We have a car waiting for you. Driving across the border will be easy. The guards look for drugs and contraband. Be certain you have no weapons with you. You will pass easily. The others are grouping at the rendezvous point."