CHAPTER FIVE

COME APART AND REST

Denise had gone to the park not for sightseeing, but for head clearing.  Being around Jerry was throwing her off track spiritually and she needed to regroup herself.  She had brought her Bible along, and after walking leisurely around, she sat down near the Japanese Gardens to make peace with God and herself.  She reflected on Jerry's obvious lies concerning the phone call and wondered what on earth the man could have wanted her husband to do.  She reflected on the fury in his lovemaking like he was desperately struggling to get back from some distant place, almost as if he had been interned in a prison-of-war camp.  She didn't know many of the young people from Wainright's church were witnessing in the park, but in the Mighty One's world, there were no coincidences.  The Mighty One had planted in all of their minds the meeting in the park.  Denise, sitting on the bench, reading the Bible, was right in the center of the Mighty One's path for her life.  As she flipped through the pages, she hardly noticed the young, black male approaching her.  In the past, his zig-zagged haircut, baggy pants and Raiders t-shirt would have brought fear into her life, but with Raphael around to protect her, she felt great.

As Dwayne walked up to her, he felt like part of a real gang and was sure his life direction had been defined by the Mighty One.  No more worthless battles over neighborhood territories, girls and cars.  He was engaged in a struggle against an evil that was insidiously working its way into the life of every unsuspecting human on the planet.  It was a battle that Dwayne relished, and each day he implored the Mighty One for help in protecting some unwitting soul from being plunged into the abyss.  Most of the people he had approached that day pretty much brushed him off even before he could share his message of love.  He had met several young Japanese girls visiting from Osaka who had attentively listened to him share about the Mighty One and had even let him pray for them.  They had left with a big smile on their faces and some literature.  He spotted Denise sitting by herself and noticed she was reading a leather bound book which he felt must have been a Bible.  The small voice inside of him told him to go sit next to her and strike up a conversation.  He sensed a certain heaviness around her even as he walked.

"Hi sister.  That a Bible you're reading?"

Denise looked up somewhat shocked to be greeted by such a big smile.

"Yeah, it is . . ."

Before she could even finish her sentence, Dwayne sat next to her and stuck out his hand.

"Dwayne Simmons.  I'm out here sharing about the Man myself."

"By yourself?"

"No, I go to Brother Bruce's church down in San Mateo.  Allied Christian Gospel.  Ever heard of us?"

"No, but I've been hoping to find a place here to fellowship in.  I haven't had much luck in this part of the city.  It's like all the churches have died.  All you have in some are old people going through the motions burying one another."

"Lot of death around here, sister.  The ways done caught up with most of these folks - the bathhouses, gay bars, prostitutes, why the obituaries are full of young people just dying.  Most of them don't even know the Mighty One."

"The Mighty One.  That's interesting terminology.  Is that what you call God?"

"Yes, the One who can do all.  The One who for no problem is too big or too small.  Tell me, sister, it looks like you's carrying a powerful burden.  Can I pray for you about something?"

Without even knowing it, while Denise and Dwayne were talking, Maduke was engaged in a skirmish with Raphael.

"You think you will protect her from our wrath.  Both she and her husband will die," Maduke stomped around ferociously.

"Maduke, be gone.  There is nothing you can do to this one or the one for whom she is sanctifying.  Your judgment day is coming.  Even now it grows nearer.  Can't you see, Maduke, how corrupted you've become?  You used to sail the heavens beholding the wonders of the Mighty One.  Now you spend your time and energy planning the misfortunes of others, many too blind to see the folly you lead them into.  Is there no trace of conscience left in you?  Can you not beseech the Mighty One for forgiveness and let him wash your filth away?"

"You speak of the Mighty One as if someone would want to be forgiven to grovel and worship at his feet.  At least with Santero I know where I stand.  It's everyone for himself.  We have all banded together.  Now clear the way.  I am going to remove this Dwayne from talking with your charge."

"Nooooooo."

The breath coming from Raphael's mouth hurled Maduke thousands of miles into space and allowed the conversation to continue uninterrupted.  The young teenager carrying the ghetto blaster who was sent to distract Dwayne went down a different path and was unable to steer him from his appointed mission.  While they talked and prayed together, Denise felt the burden lifting as someone else began to share everything.  She felt a hope, that could not b explained away in rational terms.  She felt that whatever situation Jerry had gotten into, the Mighty One would turn it for his own good and destroy the plan of the enemy.

Dwayne fidgeted with his Bible.  "I'm not great with words, sister, but I know when I pray, the Mighty One hears me and I feel like now's the time.  Whatever scrape your husband and daughter are in, the Mighty One knows."

Dwayne took her hand and began to pray.  A soft peace fell over them and it was as if they had lifted off of plant earth and were orbiting around the Circle of Light.  When they were finished, a soft glow emanated from each of their countenances.

"Wow," Denise exclaimed.  I feel like I'm twenty years younger.  These problems aren't even mine anymore.  In fact, I even feel a bit guilty."

"Why don't you come to our services tomorrow?  If you tell me where you are staying, I could even arrange for our transportation ministry to get you there and back."

"Really," she said, squarely looking him in the eye, "you don't know how much it would mean to me.  Here, the address is on the back of my hotel key."

As she wrote down her address, Maduke scowled at his temporary loss and went back to working on the Chinese Christian Church.

At thirteen, Mia Tannersly had been introduced to the powers of the Ouija.  At first it had been a game at an overnight party, but gradually she had begun to depend on the spirit that she dubbed affectionately - her sixth sense - until the spirit and she were one.  Her beauty was anything but wholesome.  The clothes she wore, nursing school attire, concealed how lusty she really was.  Two of her Chinese classmates had kidded her about never going to church and had invited her to their families' church on the outskirts of Chinatown.  She had dated ten different guys, none of them offering any real satisfaction, and decided that maybe church was the place to find someone.  Her mom was full blooded Chinese who had married an Englishman from a very upper-crust family.  His family, the Tannersly's, were into manufacturing in Hong Kong and had very much looked down on the marriage.  She was hardly ever included in the summer getaways on the Riveria with her cousins, and if her dad's business skills weren't so needed in the family, he would have been excluded as well.

She never really got over the bitterness towards her grandparents and uncles, and it had grown until she was bitter at everyone with white blood, even her own father.  Many had proposed to her.  Her beauty fascinated all of them.  She was like a James Bond girl.  No one could even get close to her heart.  Her spirit guide, Marmorphis, was under strict orders from Maduke to use her beauty to implement the destruction of Chun Lee.

Chun Lee, with his constant flurry of programs and fund-raisers, had grown shallow in his relationship with the Mighty One and was a prime target for a setup.  His wife had been complaining about the lack of time he was spending with her and his three children, and he was beginning to buckle under the pressure.  He managed to pull himself together for each Sunday sermon and always had what seemed to be a fresh word for the congregation.  Many of his sermon ideas came from the pages out of Watchman Nee books, not exactly plagiarism, but he never told anyone where he got his ideas.

Chun Lee had grown proud of the fact that his church was a leading exporter of Bibles and literature to China, and he was frequently a guest on many of the Christian television shows trying to reach the vast Chinese population.  He knew visitors came to his church every week, sometimes in the hundreds.  As he sat on the platform, he was distracted by Mia sitting in the front row.  His eyes caught hers for a moment and he felt himself blush.

Mia had chosen a seat in the second row, and after the sermon, went up to talk to him.  As she stood on the platform, waiting for him to finish talking to an elderly couple, he suddenly approached her.

"Hello.  You must be a visitor.  I've never noticed you before."

Her Chinese friends giggled.  "Yes.  Mia Tannersly.  I am from Hong Kong.  I am here studying nursing.  My friends brought me."

As Mia pointed out her two friends, Chun Lee checked out the situation.  Tempting thoughts ran through his mind.  Her beautiful eyes, lovely bustline.  He thought for a moment how David must have felt standing before Bathsheba.  He dismissed the thoughts and directed his attention back to her.

"You spoke in your sermons how living for God required a hundred percent commitment.  I don't know if I'm quite ready for that.  I haven't really even decided yet if there is a God.  I really haven't seen him much in my life.  On my father's side they are all from the Church of England, but do you think it would be all right to come and talk to you after classes sometime this week?"

"Well, young lady," he began to rationalize, even though his inner voice was screaming no, "I don't usually see people, but if you call my secretary Yalee, maybe I could get you in late on Wednesday."

"Thank you," Mia said, extending her hand.

Mia didn't consciously know that she was being used as bait.  She just knew there was something wonderful about him that she had sensed in no one else.  Her eyes glowed with a softness that seemed other-worldly.  Her friends giggled as she went back to them and were glad that Mia had enjoyed the sermon so much.  They had no ideas that what she really had enjoyed was the minister.  The voice inside her told her to surrender everything to him.  She knew that if she were asked, she would.

Chun Lee agreed to see one of his parishioners on Tuesday to discuss a rather serious allegation that someone had molested their daughter.  He had no idea of the battles going on in the spirit world around him.

The evidence was moving.  The father, a soft-spoken electronic engineer, had brought in doctor's reports that his daughter, only seven, had just contracted gonorrhea.  When interrogated, the daughter had said that one of the men had touched her in her private parts.  The father had explained further that he didn't think it was an isolated incident.  Chun Lee reflected and knew with over forty children's volunteers in the Sunday School Department there was no way to try and find out who it was, without a full-scale rumor breaking out.  He knew what that meant - less people bringing their children in and less donations for the work.  He assured the father that they would find out who it was and dismiss him.  Chun Lee agreed to have the church pick up the tab for her treatment and counseling.  Chun Lee knew that counselors were helpful but unlikely to help her recover what had been taken - her innocence.  No amount of money spent ever restored the innocence of a young child who had trusted an adult that abused her.  The consequences lasted a lifetime, affected relationships, self-image and eventually could even destroy her marriage as she forever wondered what was wrong with her.

He called in the head of the Sunday School Department, Rhea Song.  She had been with him since the start of the church in a rental grade school auditorium.  He knew he could trust her not to be the one to start the rumor that could destroy his work.

As she walked into his office, sparse by western standards, she couldn't help feeling a love for him.  It was very hard for most people to separate love for the message and messenger.  Chun Lee had helped her when she most needed it.  As a struggling business student, she had gotten engaged to a man whom she later found out had not even been divorced from his previous wife.  She had found herself in a sexual liaison and felt dirty.  Chun Lee's messages of forgiveness and his acceptance of her had restored her confidence in a God who forgave and forgot.

When Chun Lee pushed his intercom and instructed Yalee not to accept any calls for him and Rhea saw him rolling his pen between his fingers, she knew something was wrong.

"Young Chiawa Choy's father came in to see me this morning."

"Yes, I have known her since she was just an infant.  Is there some problem with her?  She has not attended Sunday School in about two weeks."

"She has gonorrhea," he said, dropping his composure.  "The father said someone touched her.  He couldn't bring himself to be any more specific.  If it were one of my daughters, I don't think I could have even said that much.  I told him not to bring the police in.  We would conduct our own investigation."

"Chiawa Choy, she's only seven.  Why would anyone . . ."

"It's not the age, it's the innocence that attracts pedophiles.  They've even been known to attack infants."

Rhea looked nervously down at her shoes.  "Do you think it was wise telling him we would do our own investigation?  We have forty volunteers.  We don't have the time to hardly train them, much less interview them."

"That's just it.  We can't afford to have them interviewed.  The word would get out and no one would bring their children to Sunday School.  I need you to conduct your own investigation.  Get me their names and social security numbers, their addresses.  I am going to hire a private investigator to do background checks on all of them."

"But the children.  In the meantime this person or persons are still out there.  How are you going to protect the children?"

"We've talked many times about trusting the Mighty One.  Now we are really going to have to.  I am beginning a fast today.  This is not something we can afford to let slip out.  We are talking about a ministry that exports millions of Bibles to China being destroyed.  It's not something I can let happen . . ."

It didn't sit right with Rhea, but she promised to keep things hushed up.  She wondered, though, why Chun Lee had to protect the ministry.  After all, if it were the Mighty One's, wouldn't he protect it himself?  She quietly assembled the background information sought by Chun Lee and turned it in to him.  But that Sunday she couldn't bring herself to look at many of the children in the classes knowing that someone was right in her own department molesting them.  To her it was like a loose snake.  Before long, it was going to bite somebody.

Chun Lee sat with his face in his hands wondering what to do to get his church out of the terrible web being woven around it.  In essence, there was nothing on his own he could do.  The forces gathered against him were so far beyond his control that it would have been like going against an M-1 with a pellet gun.  He was beginning to slip down into depression.  Never in his life had he felt so helpless.

As he sat mulling over his misery, the intercom kicked in.  "Pastor Lee, Mia Tannersly is here to see you."

"Send her in," he responded, feeling guilty because of his thoughts.

Long before she had ever walked in, he had already mentally undressed her.  It was as if he had put a hot coal in his pocket.  As the heat died out he would take it out again and blow on it.  She had been on his mind since he had met her at church.  He had looked forward to the meeting and had even turned off his wife's nagging about the amount of time he had been away from home.  He had mentally constructed a whole new life for himself married to this beautiful young Mia eager and willing to serve and meet his every need.

Mia was dressed in faded denims and was wearing a rather loose red silk top and a tasteful gold broach.

"Hi, I hope you weren't too busy.  I know with this many people in your congregation, you probably hardly even get time to think.  Anyway, I brought you some cookies.  I made them myself."

"Thanks."  Chun watched as Mia sat herself down and crossed her legs.  He took one of the cookies off the plate and bit down into it.

"Delicious.  Chocolate chip, my favorite.  You know we sponsored a gift of fortune cookies with scriptures inside them that were distributed throughout mainland China."

"Really, I find that fascinating."

As Mia played with the top button of her blouse, Chun looked at her a little uneasily.

"Was there something in particular that you wanted to discuss with me?"

"I'm sorry, I suppose it's best if I get right to the point.  My father's English, my mother's Chinese.  I just don't feel like I really fit in anywhere.  It's a little easier being here in America.  There are many people of mixed backgrounds, but it's not easy being from Hong Kong.  I'm looking for something to belong to.  I feel like I've got a lot to offer . . . only . . ." Mia continued as tears welled up in her eyes and her voice choked.

Chun walked across the desk and put his hands on her shoulder.  "There's no need to be ashamed.  Everyone needs a good cry.  All of us are strangers here on this planet.  Sometimes I don't even feel like I belong with my own family.  It's like they're from a different world.  My wife goes on and on about one of the children's problem with her schoolwork or the washing machine."

As Chun Lee touched her shoulder and began to unload all of his problems on Mia, her spirit guide Marmorphis brought her more and more under his control.  She began to move her neck and head and reached up her hand to the top notch of her blouse, allowing him to look down at her breasts.  Chun Lee knew he should have taken his eyes off of her and returned to his seat, but a force stronger than his will was propelling him and making it seem like his own idea.  She moved her hand off of his hand and began to stroke him between the legs.  When she felt him come to life, she unzipped his trousers.  Before he could pull away, he was inside her mouth yearning for a release.

Unknown to Chun Lee, Marmorphis had made sure to have his wife and daughter drop by in the middle of the counseling session.  It was unusual for her to ever come by.  The buzzer sounded.

Yalee spoke through the intercom.  "Paster Lee, your wife and daughter are here to see you."

Totally unnerved, he responded, "Tell them it'll be a few more minutes.  I haven't quite finished."

Chun Lee's conversation was totally ignored by Mia, who was intent on bringing him to a climax.  He pulled her head away.

"What's wrong?  Don't I please you?  Most men beg me to do that."

"No, it's not that you don't please me.  I'm a married man.  I shouldn't be doing that with you.  It's wrong."

"Don't I appeal to you?" Mia asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

"Yes, very much so.  I'm married and my wife is out in the reception room with my daughter.  Perhaps we should have our counseling session at another time."

Mia studied him coyly.  "O.K., this is my address and my number.  Come by.  I'll make you a great Peking duck.  My dad says it's the best."

As Mia arose from her chair and left the room, Chun Lee felt a stream of embarrassment.  Mia walked out through the reception area and made a point of putting on her lipstick right in front of Mrs. Lee.

By the time Mrs. Lee walked into her husband's office, he was back behind the desk.  All that remained of Mia's visit was the box of chocolate chip cookies.

"Who was that?  I've never seen her at church before."

"Mia Tannersly.  She's a nursing student from Hong Kong."

Mrs. Lee looked at Chun knowingly.  "I do hope you had a good counseling session.  Perhaps I came at the wrong time.  She seemed in an awful rush to get out of here."

"No problem at all.  We were just finishing."  He straightened his tie.  "Say, it's almost five o'clock.  Why don't we take Jessica and go to Kee Do Won's and have some spareribs?  I haven't even had time to eat lunch.  I'm famished."

Maduke knew that if he could destroy Chun Lee's marriage, he would lose most of his congregation.  What better way to destroy any man than through adultery.  The ingredients were already there: a beautiful co-ed, an unwilling wife, and a man of God plagued with personal problems trying himself to carry on the Mighty One's work under his own power.

Mrs. Lee knew she was driving her husband away.  Her constant refusal to have sex and her constant criticizing drove him further and further away.  The next night he didn't come home at all.  There was no way Chun could justify what he was doing.  He didn't even try.  He didn't bother to look behind the scenes and see the power controlling Mia.  He just knew that he needed to immerse himself in something tangible.  Having a God who loved him and a wife who didn't love was tormenting him.  The next morning when Chun came home, he announced to his wife that he was leaving her.  The full realization of what she had started finally broke through her stony heart.  She wept bitterly, knowing that her constant refusal to be his wife had led him down the wrong road.  She couldn't explain what was happening to Jessica - only that her daddy was going to live someplace else.  The very hell they both had tried to save others from was engulfing their lives.  Chun spent every possible moment he could with Mia.  She toyed with him like a spider would a fly caught in the web.  She discouraged him from believing in a real Hell and from believing in the importance of leading lost souls to the Mighty One.  There wasn't one tenant of faith or doctrine that he held sacred that she didn't speak out against.  The spirit controlling her knew every argument and with a mouthpiece as beautiful as Mia, the attention and heart of Chun was totally won over.

Chun tried to maintain his facade in the pulpit, but his sermons were cold and devoid of any lasting truths.  Eventually, the word of Chiawa's molesting got out, and as Chun feared, most families pulled their children out of Sunday School and quit going altogether.  Within a week, the church was transformed into a mortuary where the janitor was about the only person left with any life at all.  Mia came to visit Chun one day as he was alone in the sanctuary.  He had seen his sin destroy in weeks what had taken his entire life in submission to the Mighty One to build.  Mia came in and announced that she was returning to Hong Kong.  He was divorcing his wife, leaving his church, and Mia, who had been there to comfort him as he grieved the Holy Spirit inside him, was no longer going to be any comfort.  He would have to face the consequences alone.

Denise found all the support she could have ever needed at Allied Christian Church.  She had gone to meeting after meeting and joined a prayer cell group who totally devoted themselves to seeking help from the Mighty One.  Jerry had left her to arrange the transfer of the nuclear missile to Santero.  Having set up many of the security procedures involved in moving the deadly weapons, he knew the weaknesses.  At midnight he had arranged to have one of the missiles of his Trident transferred to a railroad yard not far from the base.  From there it had been transported to a trucking warehouse leased by Santero.  No one working for Santero was human.  They all looked human enough, but in truth, they were all just human shells possessed by Santero's demon followers.  Santero did not want to risk anyone finding out.  Denise knew her husband had betrayed their government.  When he came back to the hotel, he was nervous and very much in depression.  It was tragic that having been so loyal for so many years, he had chosen treason.  As much as she tried to retain it, she knew she had lost all respect for him.  It wasn't just the filthy things he said to her during sex, or the way he dressed himself like a common pimp, he had no self-respect.  He too had become an empty shell.

She had asked him several times to join her in attending church.  He didn't directly refuse her, but he never made an effort to go either.  He always had an excuse.  On the one occasion when Bruce had come up to visit them, he had excused himself and wandered the streets for hours.

He found himself in front of Ghiaradelli Square.  The man with the eye patch was talking to him again.  He saw his mouth moving but he couldn't hear.  He wondered if something was wrong with his hearing.  He didn't see that around him was a tremendous battle.  The spirit that was inhabiting him was not allowing him to hear anything.  The constant prayers that were being sent up for him by the prayer cell had enabled the Mighty One to send a warrior to get a message through to him.  The message was delivered by the same nearly blind man that had talked to him before.

"You did it, didn't you?  You let hate get the best of you.  Wanted to save yourself?  You know, don't you?  He won't let you get away.  He wants you dead.  You're the only one that can warn 'em what's really going to happen.  You don't think he'll let you live, do you?"

"I don't know, damn it," Hauser retorted.  "Who the hell are you, lecturing me?  What do you know I did anyway?"

Hauser was confident that he had totally covered his trail and it could never be traced back to him.  The only thing he couldn't beat was the trail of tears that had followed him since he had betrayed himself and his country.

"You still don't know who is using me to talk to you, do you?  The Mighty One.  Ask your wife.  She's been telling you about Him for weeks.  He wants me to give you a message.  It's simple.  You can go back.  It's not too late.  You can undo what you've done."

In the spirit world around Hauser and the old Viet Nam vet the battle was raging, but the spirits were bound from preventing Hauser's heart from receiving the seed of the message, a seed that would grow and grow even though Hauser walked away.

At first, when Billy Memphis started showing up at church with his mother and sister, no one paid him much mind.  The young kids from the streets recognized him immediately, and he found that his fans were everywhere.  Only this time it was different for him.  They were not there to take, but to give, even though in terms of material possession, they didn't have much.  They did have what he really needed and that was love.  Louis and Nic had teamed up and started their own rap music outreach.  They wanted to expand into some dramatic presentation and perform in the local schools and parks.  They asked Billy for some help with their scripts.

Billy didn't realize that the gift of humor and acting could be used for good as well as evil.  He knew in the entertainment world he could turn on his charm and get about anything he wanted, but now he was learning that the same thing could happen working for the Mighty One.

They wrote a comic sketch about an alcoholic father who got saved.  They rehearsed it with Billy as the writer-director.  The kids were enthusiastic.  The play, Orphans in the City, got booked in the Community Center.  Several critics from the Chronicle came out and saw it after learning through the grapevine that it was a Billy Memphis production.  It wasn't long before his agent was calling him with offers for the film rights.  Only this time it was different.  It was him.  It was his life the play was talking about and each night when he performed it, during the final act he got on his knees to ask God for help.  Although he refused to sell the film rights, he didn't turn down opportunities to share how real his experience with the Mighty One really was.  More and more people began to visit the church and they moved into a big high school auditorium for the Sunday services.  With people came money.  Just as in the time of Christ when he had gone fishing to pay his taxes and found a gold coin in the mouth of the fish, so too the people were willing to finance Bruce's vision to reach the Bay area for the Mighty One.  They established a men's shelter for the homeless and started their own job bank.  Soon groups of men were going out doing handyman work and gardening.  They even secured the state contracts to clean all the government buildings.  It didn't stop there.  They started several homes for pregnant teenagers and worked with them to get their babies adopted by good families.  Santero's trip over the area was breaking.

The Sea Hawk had gone back to sea with Jerry, and Denise moved closer to the fellowship.  She had taken over the home for girls and was making up for the mistakes she had made with Pamela.  Everyone affectionately called her Mom and she grew proud of her adopted daughters and grandchildren.  

Louis's case had been dropped when Nic Delia had testified that he was sure that his wounds had been deserved.  He asked for the prosecution's forgiveness.  One by one, the crack dealers were finding they were no longer welcome.  It came to a head one afternoon after the church had organized a street evangelism meeting at the busiest crack cocaine park.  During the meeting, several Mercedes had cruised by.  Santero was furious at the loss of the drug trade in downtown San Mateo.  He had instructed Maduke to establish a beachhead again in the area and run out Bruce Wainright and the Allied Christian Church whose presence was a continual annoyance.

They put out about twenty grand on the streets and brought the services of three bikers who had ridden in the 70s with Sonny Barger.  They supplied them with prostitutes, got them loaded and sent them to an outdoor church meeting.  Almost on signal, the bikers had pulled out their Uzis and sprayed the crowd.  It was a carnage.  Young Mario Rodriguez took a bullet in the skull.  Nic, standing only three feet away from one of the gunners himself in the air, brought the man down.  The two other gunners took off leaving their buddy to the mercy of the crowd.  The area was awash with ambulances, reporters and police.  Bruce and Louis held off the crowd who had wanted to kill the man on the spot.  They could see he was stoned out of his mind and probably didn't have the faintest idea of what he had done.  All in all, fifteen people had been hit, three were dead, two critically wounded.  The others' injuries were minor.  Everyone could see what a miracle it was that not more people were killed.  The only one from the church that was hit was Mario.  He had been flown to San Francisco General where they had removed the bullet.

Bruce called on the people of the city to pray for young Mario.  He called on the city to rid itself of the terrible cancer and violence that was eating old and young alike.  Santero was furious.  Another of his plans had backfired.  The message of the Mighty One was going out on all the major channels with people turning to the Mighty One by the score.

A large Christian television network announced their plans to have a major week of evangelism on the streets of San Francisco.  The week would culminate with a large rally in Candlestick Park.  The community that had been so pathetically apathetical to anyone else's need had begun to shower gifts and clothing to any organization that was willing to reach out to the hurting and homeless.  The whole Bay area seemed to change.  A feeling of community and brotherhood grew.  People loved, prayed and helped out one another.  The Mighty One sent in more warriors.  Whole areas of town fell under the influence of the Mighty One.

Mario Rodriguez's life hung in the balance at San Francisco General Hospital.  If he had been conscious, he would have seen the hundreds of cards and bouquets that had been sent to him.  He was semicomatose and totally incoherent.  Every day Billy Memphis and Louis came by to visit him and to tell him he would get better.  The doctors doubted that he would ever walk again.  He didn't respond to any probing of his lower extremities.  Billy Memphis blamed himself for what had happened to Mario, and nothing could convince him otherwise.  Santero, always looking for an opening, had sent Octonoo to convince Memphis that he was responsible and that the Mighty One didn't love either of them or he never would have allowed Mario to have been shot.

With two weeks of the shooting, Billy left the play and went to Santa Cruz to be alone.  Bruce had urged him not to escape and told him that whatever happened at this point, it would be for the good of everyone.  The church began a twenty-four hour daily prayer vigil.  At the urging of the hospital staff, Mario's body was flown to the Barrow Neurological Center for further study and observation.  Billy spared no expense on behalf of Mario.  The cat scan had revealed that the bullet had narrowly grazed the medulla oblongatas and had released a large clot near the cerebellum.  Surgery to repair was a near impossibility.  One wrong movement of a surgical instrument would render Mario dead.  Billy flew down to the Barrow Neurological Center with Bruce and Louis to meet with Dr. Clarence E. Hopkins, best known for his surgery on billionaire J. Paul Getty.  The church had assumed legal guardianship of Mario, and the decision to operate or not was to be up to Bruce.

Bruce had detected the change and discouragement in both Billy and Louis and had fasted for three days prior to flying down with them.  Late that night he had met with them both in his room and laid hands on them to pray for them.  Around them swords were flying as the followers of Santero exchanged barbs with the Gods of War.

"Octonoo, you miserable harbinger of doom and despair, you are no longer allowed near Louis and Billy.  Be gone."

"By whose authority, Raphael?  Billy allowed me himself.  I merely aided him in his desperation.  It is he who entertains the thoughts.  You hear yourself the words he speaks from his own mouth how the Mighty One can't even protect His own followers.  He curses himself and dooms himself with his own tongue."

"Yes," Raphael responded.  "That is true, yet it is not his words that have made it necessary you leave, but the word of Bruce Wainright.  He has seen your attack and it is his authority and his command that gives me the authority to prevent you from being here any longer."

"It shall not always be this way, Raphael.  One day we will torment you and the other followers of the Mighty One.  You with your high-sounded message of love and forgiveness.  Santero will see you all burned.  He has promised us so."

Raphael laughed contemptuously.  "Yes, such a promise it is from the Father of Liars.  What victories has he brought to your camp thus far?  Did he not also promise you he would get rid of the Christ, the Son of the Mighty One?  And look now.  That very Christ inhabits multiple millions of humans.  Each one with more power and authority than yourself.  Can't you see how you've been duped, Octonoo?  You who used to lead in choruses of majestic harmonies now hawking despair in your pitiful voice, despair meant only to bring others pain.  Have you no conscience?  Is there nothing in you that calls out for the Circle of Light?  Do you not miss bathing in the warmth of His love?  Or have you so soon forgotten?  I used to envy your melodies, Octonoo.  I used to marvel at the complexities of your arrangements, being limited myself to offer a token of the gift you had.  I used to envy your ability to praise the Mighty One with such rapture.  Now I envy you not.  You have turned your celestial choruses into the mere cackling of the damned.  Oh, the pipes that formerly sun such harmonies now just whine in misery.  Yes Octonoo, we miss you in the Circle of Light, but will truth ever find a place in your breast and will you ever admit how much you miss us?"

"Very plaintive indeed, Guardian Raphael.  You almost move me to tears.  I am afraid I am too far removed from your pleadings.  I remember my choruses but I also remember the grovelling I did at the feet of the Mighty One.  "All praises unto him."  Where were the praises for the one making the melodies?  Santero alone recognized my greatness.  Someday I again shall command a loud chorus.  This time, however, they shall sing my praises.  Even now, thousands worship me in arenas throughout this world.  My melodies have made many rich and destroyed even more.  What is it the Mighty One offers me if I come back?  A chance to be His servant again and grovel at His feet getting no recognition for myself.  No thank you.  That is something I can do without."

Raphael stared at him with tears filling his eyes.  "Your immersion in the lie is complete, Octonoo.  No part of you is even open to the truth.  If it was, you would be welcomed back.  Your folly shall be your undoing.  Only these two are no longer going to be open to any of your suggestions.  You may never learn the difference between the truth and lies, but you will know that all authority lies in the name of Jesus Christ."

"Must you speak that cursed word, Raphael?  We had Him in our grasp.  We had everything we needed to get the Mighty One to back down.  We had the entire creation He had made enslaved to our every suggestion.  Now you throw this about.  This Christ.  Well, even He won't reign forever.  The power of Lucifer is beyond even His power.  We know no limits of truth.  We only know expediency.  Whatever we need to happen, happens.  When we assemble with the hordes of our world and those of humankind who have sworn their allegiance to us, then we will rule . . ."

After a while, Raphael got tired of the discourse.  As Octonoo left the room, the heaviness left as well.  A tear formed in Billy's eye and he apologized to Louis for infecting him with unbelief.

"Louis, before I knew the redeemed, I had everything but I had nothing.  If you knew what degradations I was forced to go through just to get my career kicked off, I doubt if you'd have any respect for me.  I make money now sleeping: residuals, royalties, foreign rights, options.  I couldn't possibly spend all the money I have made.  But you know what?"  As he spoke he pointed up, "He changed all that.  He brought me back from a living death to a living life.  I've never been so happy as I have been serving the Mighty One."

Bruce laid his hand on his shoulder.  "Don't blame yourself, Billy.  It was the evil one that sowed this seed of doubt within you.  We've bound him and his minions.  He shall not plague you thus any longer.  We have to bear Louis's burden as well.  Mario is like his brother."

"You know, I think we should tell them to do the operation.  We should ask the Mighty One to guide the surgeon's hands and bring little Mario back to us."  Louis stood up and threw his shoulders back.  "Hey man, I didn't become a follower to end up losing.  I don't think Mario would want us to give up.  I'll stay right here, man.  I won't eat nothin', I won't drink nothin' till he's out of surgery.  Are you dudes with me?"

That day Billy, Bruce and Louis pacted not to eat or drink until Mario was all right and out of surgery.  The forces of death, Cadaver, Prothesus and Santero himself were repelled by the Gods of War.  Through the guidance of the Mighty One, the surgeon's hand was able to repair the damage done to the cerebellum by draining out all of the blood.  With the old vessels sealed by laser, new ones were able to grow.  Less than four hours out of surgery Mario woke up.  He was able to feel his toes and was able to move.

After three days of no food or water, Louis, Billy and Bruce toasted to Mario's health and to the magnificence of the Mighty One.  The news media, which had been following the story with interest, broadcast live from the hospital, allowing Mario, Bruce, Billy and Louis to proclaim to the entire Bay area the mercy of the Mighty One.

Santero was furious.  The trail back to him from the motorcycle hit men still wasn't cold.  Through hypnosis, they were able to find out a description of Santero.  He needed time.  It would be months before he could get the missile dropped and detonated over the Bay area.  Months that he didn't have.  He had wanted to rid himself of Hauser, but shortly after delivering the missile to him, Hauser had disappeared.  In fact, he had gone back to sea and only the Pentagon top brass knew where he was on maneuvers.

Unlike the Mighty One, Santero could only be at one place at one time.  He had no omnipotent power.  His power lay merely in the power of suggestion.  The mere words "be gone in name of Jesus Christ" could limit him severely.  

Hauser rolled over nervously in his sleep.  The exercises had been going on for days and he was exhausted.  Guilt had been eating at him, slowly wearing down his confidence.  He let his imagination go and imagined the death of hundreds of innocent people at the hands of Santero.  He still held within him the hope that he would eventually find and make peace with Pamela.  Even after exchanging the weapon, Santero had given him nothing but empty promises.  He had begun to wonder if she was even alive.  Being under the sea gave him time to think, and reflect on his aberrant behavior.