The Oracle Year(42)
“We will become generals. We will tell our forces that the Oracle is an enemy of God, and we will set them to hunt him. I have already set this in motion within my own flock.”
“Your Detectives for Christ,” Rabbi Laufer said, his tone amused. “Like something from a film.”
“Yes, I know,” Branson said, forcing an easy smile to appear on his face. “Unsophisticated, of course . . . but it can work. You can all present the idea to your own people however seems best, but it is important that we combine our efforts. I can only do so much alone. Most of my influence is focused within the United States. That’s why I wanted to bring all of you into this.”
“Is that why?” the rabbi said. “Or is it perhaps that you are worried about a certain prediction from the Oracle about a certain steak, and you wish to discredit him before he makes a fool of you on the live television broadcast you have announced?”
Branson turned to Laufer, no longer pretending at a smile.
“I’m in the thick of all this. I won’t pretend I’m not. But you’re a fool if you think he’ll stop with me. The Oracle reached out and stabbed at me, a spear thrust at my heart. It’s a message to me, yes”—here he gestured around the table, taking in all of the assembled holy men at once—“but also to all of you.
“He wants to take me down so that none of you will challenge him. He’s as bad as any dictator, oppressive government, or pogrom that has tried to destroy men of God in all the long centuries we have been doing our work.”
He pointed at Rabbi Laufer.
“What if he releases a prediction that the Jews will attempt to take over the world financial system?”
A head tilt toward the Sunni and the Shiite.
“Or another large-scale attack by Muslims inside the United States?”
Frowns around the table.
“None of you have been on the receiving end of the Oracle’s abilities. I have, and I will tell you, none of us has ever faced anything like this. With ten words, he could make any of our faiths the enemy of the entire world.”
Branson shifted in his chair.
“Humanity needs us. They need our direct aid, and our good counsel, and our example. Our faiths are the mortar of the world. We must act.
“The Oracle must have a neighbor, a brother, a friend. One of those people is among our faithful, or is known to them. We will find the Oracle. And once the man is uncovered, we will expose him as exactly that—simply a man.”
“What will be done once we have him?” asked the Iranian.
“What we must,” Branson answered.
“And if he is not a fraud? What if he is, indeed, a messenger from God? What then?” Karmapa Chamdo broke in.
Hosiah folded his hands and looked at the man.
“In that case, my friend, I suspect we’re probably screwed.”
Chapter 16
Will watched as the concierge handled yet another set of hotel guests with the skill and charm she brought to every single encounter. He didn’t know how she did it, but every time, the same bright smile, the same warmth. Will had worked in service jobs a time or two, and he knew how quickly customers transformed from people into annoying problems to be solved. But this concierge . . . masterful. A-game every time. Will had seen her every day for the past few weeks, and he was always impressed. She was just fun to watch.
It also didn’t hurt that she was arguably the most beautiful woman Will had ever seen.
Don’t stare, he told himself. She’s just trying to do her job, probably deals with creeps all day long. Don’t be a creep.
Will was sitting on a couch in the lobby of the Hotel Carrasco—a palatial, high-ceilinged confection of marble pillars, crystal chandeliers and mosaic floors, the highest-end hotel available in Montevideo. It was packed, guests milling around, pulling rolling luggage behind them, heading out into the bright sun of the Southern Hemisphere summer.
A cocktail sat on the table in front of him—something with a lot of mint and lime—and next to that, a low stack of bound reports, about fifteen, of varying thickness, which had cost him a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
It didn’t even seem like that much money anymore.
Will reached out and flipped through the stack—presentation binders with clear plastic covers, perhaps ten in all. Each had a spiffy, thesislike title, and many had logos from high-end consulting firms. Twenty-Three Twelve Four: A Numerological Analysis. The Astrological Significance of the Numbers Twenty-Three, Twelve, and Four. The cover page on the binder from MIT’s math department was just the numbers, alone in big black type, in a vertical row:
23
12
4
He pulled the top binder off the stack—the astrological analysis. He flipped through it. This guy had gone the extra mile, running through possibilities related not just to the Zodiac, but palmistry and phrenology as well.
More money than Will had earned in the last three years, to find out that geniuses of all descriptions thought the numbers were probably a date—April 23, 2012, 4 p.m. on December 23, maybe December 4, 2023.
Which was, of course, what Will figured too. It seemed possible that the . . . transmission, or whatever the dream with the predictions had been, was cut off midstream, and the numbers were just the start of the next one coming through.