"Mission" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tilley Patrick)

I reached for a cigarette and stiffened m~ nerves with a quick drag. 'Has it been found yet?'
'Yes, the same night. They left it parked outside the Manhattan General.' She borrowed my cigarette for a couple of puffs then put it back between my lips. 'I'm going to make some coffee.'
I followed her mechanically into the kitchen. My mind was in overdrive. Figuring all the angles. 'I)o you realise what this means?'
She nodded as she put some beans into the grinder. 'I think so. But go ahead and tell me anyway.'
For once I had to force the words out. 'It means that - that someone must have known he was - coming.'
Exactly,' said Miriam. 'The question is - who?'
Who indeed? I had been besieged with questions all week and now more were crowding ifltO my overworked brain. How could they have known? What was their role in all this? Where had they come from? Were they people like us, or had they come from beyond time and space as he had? Why, of all the hospitals in New 'iurk, had they chosen t he Manhiattati ( ieneral? And did whoever 't hey' were, know about us? I can at least tell you one thing for sure. When something like this is dropped iii your lap at one a.ni. iii the morning, all carnal tliutights fly out the window.
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Chapter 2

The following Saturday, I drove up to Sleepy Hollow. On top of the metaphysical turmoil created by the mystery man at the hospital, it had been a pretty heavy week at the office and on the back seat of the Porsche I had a easeful of papers that I'd promised nwself I'd read through by Monday morning. Miriam was working but hoped to make it up-state on Sunday after lunching with her parents in Scarsdale. Normally, I'd have stayed in my apartment. I think the real reason I left town was because I wanted a moment of relative peace and quiet to reflect on what had hapч~ned. At least I like to think that was the reason. That I had a choice, and not because it had all been worked out for me.
Around five in the afternoon I was sitting at my work table in the living-room, reading through an inch-thick deposition on a patent infringement case I was preparing. .1 glanced idly our of the window towards the trees that mark the western edge of my modest spread. Between the house and the trees is this big open stretch of grass. Miriam likes to call it the lawn, but to me it's only lawn when it looks like astro-turf. This is grass. At least some out is. My neighbour took great pleasure in telling me that most of the green bits were clover. Anyway . . . there I was, gazing through the window, thinking that (a) I would have to get the mower fixed, and (b) that it was time for another cup of coffee. I mention this because I am absolutely certain about what I did or, to be more precise, did not see.
As there were only thirty p~~es ol the deposition lefi, I decided to finish it of! first. I read through a couple more pages then looked out ofthe window again. And there was this guy in a pale brown robe and white head-dress walking across the grass towards the house. Now it
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had taken no more than a minute to read those two pages. There was no way he could have got to where he was unless he had stepped out of thin air. I sat there, glued to my chair, and watched him come closer. Then I saw the bandages and knew I was in trouble. It was our friend from the Manhattan General
Was I frightened? Yes, a little, I think what I really felt at that particular moment was a sense of wonder. Amazement. I just could not believe that this was really happening to me.
I used a slip of paper to mark my place in the deposition and went out Qn to the porch. I saw him pause to look at my car before he came
on up the steps through the rock garden to the house. It was the same guy all right but he looked a lot better than he had at the hospital. The swollen bruises on his face had disappeared and his nose had been reset. He stopped a couple of yards away from me. His eves were tawny brown; his gaze, that had haunted me, very direct. I stood there and eyed him back, trying to manifest a subtle air of assurance. listen, it's not every day that you find the Son of God, or whatever you want to call him, standing on your doorstep. Because, believe me, that's who it was. Miriam had been right. It wasn't the victim of some gangland killing that the police had found in that alleyway. It was the body of the Risen Christ. And he'd come back. The Man was here. In front of me.
Impossible? Of course it was. That's what I tried to tell nwself. It made no sense. Yet it had happened. Even so, my mind still refused to accept the evidence ofmy own eyes. And that was because an inescapable choice was being forced upon me. Something I hate. III resisted up to the very last moment it was because of the fear that to accept his presence would totally change my life, just when I had reached the
point when I was happy with the way things were. I could live with the world's imperfections. Doing so enabled me to comfortably ignore my own.
He glanced back at the Porsche with an admiring nod. 'Nice.'
'I'hat really threw me. It was so totally unexpected.
'\our name is I .eo Resnick, right?' I gulped wordlessly and nodded.
'We met at the hospital,' he said. 'I)o you know who I am?'
I finaLly matiaged to loosen my larynx. 'Yes, I t htink so. What c~iii I do for you?' What a quest ion. 13 iii at t lie t i me, I had no idea where it was going to lead me.
'I lie A\~lii just stood there, wuighitig mc up with those deep-set
2'i
eyes. There was something unnerving about the way he would look at you. It reminded me of a falcon. The way they fix on you as they sit on their handler's gauntlet. After what seemed a long while he answered me. 'I'm not sure yet.'
I felt the bottom drop out ofmy stomach. It was the 'yet' that did it. It meant that I was involved. That he not only knew my name but also had my number. And I remember cursing my luck and thinking if only it hadn't been raining last Saturday I would have found a cab. I would have got to the hospital on time. Miriam and I would have left before the ambulance that brought him in had arrived. And maybe - who knows - maybe I could have stayed out of all this. If you had been in my place you would probably have felt the same way.
But why me? Even now, it's a question I still ask myself. Why pick on me? But on the other hand, when you think about it, why not? After all, the first time around, The Man just hauled a bunch of fishermen off the end oithe pier at Capernaum. I'm anybody - just like the next man. And, as I said, we're all in this together, whether we like it or not.
The Man took in the view from the porch then turned back to me. 'This may sound a little strange but where am I?'
That threw me too. I mean, you ~n't expect Jesus to be interested in Porsche Carreras but when he steps out of nowhere onto your Lawn, it's not unreasonable to assume that he knows where he is.
'You're in a place calLed Sleepy Hollow in up-state New York,' I ;aid. "I'he east bank of the hudson river is just over there.'
'Ahh, thanks - . .' He glanced briefly towards the trees.
'New York is part of the continental United States,' I added heLpfully. 'North America?'
I Ic looked at me blankly. .1 low fir is that from Jerusalem?'
I thought it over and, as I worked out the answer, I was also thinking - Get a grip on vour~elf, Re.snick. Don't crack up. This convc'rcallO?i is not actually taking p/ace. You 'ye just been overworking
'Jerusalem?' I heard myself say. 'I would guess that the place you're looking for is about five thousand miles and two thousand years away. loday is Sat urday, April t went v'f ft h, nineteen eighty one.'
I lu I rowtted.
'ihat's using the ( iregorian calendar,' I explained. 'Year One was about seven years after your presutmed date of birt hi. I don't know what year this is according to the Jewish calendar hut I could find out
if you're interested. Anyway, for what it's worth, welcome to the twentieth century.'
The Man took the news with an impassive nod. 'I think I'm in trouble.'
That was where I made my second big mistake. What I should have said was - 'That's tough, look, I'm busy' or 'I only see people by appointment. Call my secretary'. Or told him to take it down the street. I didn't. But even now, I still can't quite accept the idea that that option was not open to me. I was filled with a sense of foreboding hut suddenly I wasn't frightened any more. I felt this great longing to know well up inside me. To find out what had really happened way back when this thing had started and what he was doing here. There had to be an angle, and there was only one thing to say. 'You want to come in and talk about it?'
The first thing I did after I got him settled was to excuse myself and call Miriam from the phone in the kitchen. 'He's back. .
'Who's back?' she said.
'Who do you think for crissakes? Uhh, I mean - 'I lowered my voice and made a mental note to reprogramme my vocabulary. After all, The Man was in the next room. 'The DOA we lost on Saturday night.'
There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line. 'Leo, are you putting me on?'
'I wish I was, Miriam,' I said. 'I really and truly wish I was.' I meant it too, despite the curiosity that now consumed me. For either of us to have anything to do with this guy could only lead to trouble. In our circle of friends and business associates there were two surefire ways of committing social suicide. Going broke and getting religion. And the last was the worst.
'But, Leo,' said Miriam. "I'his is absolutely fantastic.'
'Yes,' I said cautiously. 'I guess it is.'