The Mark

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Henry sighed and looked out the window as Charlie pulled up to the home of the fellowship leader, Dave Conover. Charlie always looked forward to his time with Dave, a godly man who loved the Word and held to its truth. Charlie heard that his wife died unex pectedly, and a few years after that he started the fellowship, using his own money to purchase a large farm in the middle of almost no where in Indiana. After the purchase he had found a large cavernous space under the farmhouse that allegedly was carved out during the mid-1800s to house runaway slaves on the Underground Railroad on their way to Jeffersonville. He, with the help of the fellowship, had expanded that space into a multiroomed compound, running wa ter and all, able to house about two hundred people for an extended period of time.

"Dave said an inspector was nosing around the farm last week,

checking around the barns and the garage."

"Really? Did he find anything?"

"Nope. Every time he thought the inspector might find the stairs to the compound or some of the storage areas in the barns, he would get a call on his cell or ask a question, and move away from where he was looking. He said that only God could have interceded, because half of the doors that were supposed to stay locked were open and completely accessible."

Henry and Charlie got out of the car and walked toward the house. "I could hardly believe it when Dave told us last week that it's

done," said Henry. "How long have we been building out the space?" "It's been five years now-we started a couple of years before I met you. The space is finished, and most of the access tunnels are done. The one that surfaces down south near Spencer is giving us some trouble. Dave could use some help this weekend, if you're free. I have a catering job and can't make it." "Doesn't seem like I'll have social plans any time soon, so why not?"

Henry's shoulders slumped again. Charlie patted him on the back and pushed him toward the door.

"These meetings always have an uplifting effect. I heard someone

was bringing a guitar tonight." "Great. Are you trying to depress me? You know I can't sing."

Henry flashed his crooked smile at Charlie and walked through the open door.

What a head case, Charlie thought as he followed. Dave met Charlie at the door and reached out to shake his hand.

"Things are heating up, Char," he said. "Yeah, this Magorum is a scary dude."

"We're keeping a close eye on him, but I don't like where this is headed. He's got too much support without any discernable history. I was hoping you could pull together some background information on him."

"I got it covered."

"Thanks. Is Henry all right?"

"Woman trouble."

"Yeah. Any idea on this one's religious bend? I'm not sure this is the best time to be pursuing a relationship."

Charlie looked across the room at Henry. The last girl that caught Henry's eye ended up being a pretty outspoken atheist. "I think this one might actually be a Christian."

"We'd better get started. I'll talk with Henry later."

The front door closed and the light from the bay window caused shadows to fall on the yard. A man in a short black jacket stepped out from behind a large oak tree, just feet from the front door where Dave and Charlie had been talking. He wore a black baseball cap and a pair of jeans, with well-worn tennis shoes, gray with dirt. The men hadn't noticed him in the shadows, but he'd heard every word they'd said. From where he stood, he could see clearly into the living room where the fellowship had begun with a time of singing. He smiled to himself.

They were right about several things. Historically speaking, No ah's choice in women was poor. This was also not a great time to start a relationship and Magorum was frightening. More frightening than either of them could possibly imagine. But they wouldn't have to imagine for long.

He stayed for another fifteen minutes, and when he had heard enough, he turned and disappeared into the blackness of the night.

|May

Wayne Durbin leaned back in his desk chair and crossed his feet at the ankles on the top of his desk. With the phone cradled under his ear, he was able to flip through the Worley file while talking with his lawyer.

"I'm telling you, Frank, it was the best thing that ever happened to me," he said, closing the file. "I knew he had no case against me-I didn't leak his unpaid taxes. I didn't even know about his bad checks until it was on the ten o'clock news just like the rest of Creston. I'd love to say I ran a flawless campaign, but it was his own stupidity that lost the election last year. The fact he tried to accuse me of slander when he knew he hadn't paid taxes in years just proves it."

"Well, you can sleep easy tonight, my friend," Frank said. "The case is gone, and so is ex-mayor Sheffield. He'll have about four years to think about what he did and then he'll probably be paroled."

"Four years, huh? Doesn't seem that long."

"Not for someone who's trying to change a town, that's for sure. That time will fly by for you. Look how quickly your first year in of fice has flown."

"No kidding." Wayne slapped the file closed and reached with his right hand to open a drawer in his desk. He dropped the file in and pushed it shut.

"So what's on your agenda today?" the lawyer asked the mayor.

"Oh, I've got to run. Thomas Larson is on his way over and I think I have an offer he can't refuse."

"Good luck with that one. Your offers with him never seem to work. Well, Mayor Durbin, I'll send you my bill." "I'm sure you will."

Wayne took his feet down and leaned over his desk to hang up the phone. There was a soft knock at his door, and his secretary stuck her head in..

"Thomas is waiting in the conference room, Wayne." "Thanks, Linda."

He got up and grabbed his suit coat that was lying on the chair next to his desk. He slid his arms into the jacket and glanced in the decorative mirror his wife had hung by the door. She had told him to always take a look before he left, to make sure there were no crumbs on his face and that his tie was straight.

Behind every good man...

His five-foot-seven frame filled the suit nicely. Another sugges tion of his wife. She had said, "If you win, we'll need a tailor." He might be small, but he definitely looked the part.

He walked through the outer office and stopped at Linda's desk. "Send my wife a dozen roses and put on the card, 'You were right."

Linda gave him a quizzical look, but he didn't have time to explain. He walked down the hall to the conference room and found his old friend sitting at the table, a travel mug of coffee in his hand as usual, looking out the window. It was the beginning of May, and Indiana was greening up nicely. There was a massive tulip tree growing right outside on the front lawn of the city hall. The yellow blooms were still a month away from opening, but the buds were already forming on the branches. A sign that summer was right around the corner.

"Well, it's no use beating around the bush. It's been a year, Thomas," he said as his friend's gaze turned from the window. He walked across to where Thomas now stood, hand outstretched. He

took Thomas's hand in both of his and shook it warmly, "Good to see you, too, Wayne. Up for some small talk?" Thomas grinned and returned to his coffee, as both of the men sat across from each other at the table.

"I never was one for small talk, but I am a person who never for gets a detail. You said for me to ask you again in a year, so I'm asking. will you officially join the team?" "You know your team is full, Wayne. You don't need me."