Panacea (47 page)

“You're kidding, right?” Bradsher said, looking a little green.

“Not a bit. Doctors used to advertise their services by painting a stick wrapped with a worm outside their homes. Now, as to what all this has to do with the
ikhar
 … follow me.”

“Follow you where?” Nelson said.

“Downstairs … to the farm.”

As she stepped to the rear of the room and opened a door, Nelson raised a hand. He had to maintain control of the situation.

“Wait. Stop right there. You don't go anywhere—you don't even move until I tell you to.”

Clotilde folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. “Whatever you say, Brother Fife.”

Nelson stepped to the doorway and looked down the stone steps. A warm glow filtered up from the space below. The moist air rising along the stairs was redolent of earth and a vague rot.

He motioned to Bradsher. “Go see.” He pointed to Chayat, then to Hayden. “Do not take your eyes off him. Do not hesitate to shoot him dead.”

A few seconds after Bradsher had descended the steps he called back up.

“It's empty. Nothing here but a dirt floor and lots of lights.”

Nelson looked at Clotilde. “Doesn't sound like much of a farm.”

“Ask your man if he notices anything unusual about the soil.”

“I heard that,” Bradsher said from below. “Yeah … it's full of holes.”

Nelson got it then. “A worm farm?”

She bowed. “Exactly. The key to the ‘secret ingredient' you've been seeking.” She cocked her head toward the doorway. “Shall we?”

Nelson could think of nothing he wanted more right now, but he couldn't allow any sloppiness. He pointed to Chayat again.

“Take him down first.”

That would put Hayden downstairs with the two armed men. No way could he be allowed to stay up here with a single guard.

After they had passed and were well on their way down, he made a flourish to Clotilde and Dr. Fanning. “Ladies first.”

At the bottom of the stairs he found an expanse of moist earth lit by lamps suspended from the ceiling timbers.

“All this,” he said, amazed, “for worms?”

“They are the key, Brother Fife. I don't know if the comet brought the seeds of the plant with it, or if something within it caused a change in the plants around its impact site, but I do know that these earthworms were changed and are crucial.”

He stared at the expanse of earth and realized the Lord had been with him when he'd requisitioned the AGM-114s. Pickens had been dubious at first, but once Nelson convinced him that the U.S. had a chance to lay exclusive claim to the panacea, and that the missiles would be used only as a last resort to protect that exclusivity, the assistant director pulled every string necessary to get them approved.

The Hellfire missiles were two more things that would not leave this island.

“Do you see that bag on the table to your left?” Clotilde said. “Would you kindly hand it to me?”

Nelson checked inside and saw a powdery substance. “What's this?”

“Bread crumbs. Very fine bread crumbs. May I?”

He dug his hand inside to make sure nothing was hidden there, then handed it to her. She withdrew a handful and scattered the crumbs over the soil, like she was spreading seed. She replaced the bag on the shelf.

“Watch.”

So saying, she went to the near left corner where a thick block of wood had been partially buried in the soil. She lifted a large wooden mallet with both hands and slammed it down on the top of the block. The sound echoed through the underground chamber. Nelson felt it vibrate through his shoes.

“What are you doing?”

“Wait,” she said, and struck the block twice more. “Now … watch.”

For a moment, nothing happened, then glistening pink tendrils began to poke up from the mossy surface and wriggle free of the dirt, more and more appearing and slithering around until the earthen patch was alive with them.

Somewhere to his left he heard Bradsher say, “Gross.”

Nelson could not disagree.

“Trained earthworms,” he said. “How quaint.”

“They have mouths but no teeth. They eat almost anything but mostly feed on dirt and the organic matter, living and dead, within it. The tiny bread crumbs are a treat. They devour some, roll around in the rest and that way take them back into their tunnels. Worms are crucial to plant growth. Did you know that in the average acre of land, sixteen thousand pounds of soil pass through the guts of its earthworm population?”

Nelson felt his thin patience fraying to the breaking point.

“Is this some sort of delaying tactic?”

“You asked for an answer. I am giving it to you.”

“But we know they are not part of the process since your instructions to your minions are to remove all worms before boiling.”

The old woman offered a tolerant smile. “I will get to that, if I may continue. All that soil passing through the guts of the earthworms is left behind in the form of nutrient-rich castings. It is the castings of these particular worms, excreted after they've fed on the plants from around the crater, that are the source of what you call the panacea.”

“Worm shit?” he heard Hayden say through a laugh. “You gotta be kidding me! The cure-all is worm shit?”

“You're lying,” Nelson said. He waved to the worms. “This is all an elaborate misdirection.”

“No, Brother Fife. The misdirection is telling the
sylyk
to remove all insects and worms and grubs. Instructions for making the elixir include boiling some of the dirt in the root ball, but by telling them to discard the worms, we make them appear worthless, when in reality it is their casts in the soil that yield the panacea. That is why anyone who steals the plants will be frustrated.”

Mute with shock, Nelson could only stare at the thinning mass of worms as they slithered back into their tunnels. Mutated earthworms … that was the key? The reason all the acres of those foul plants the Brotherhood had planted over the centuries yielded nothing?

“So…” he said, finding his voice, “your minions never knew?”

Clotilde shook her head. “They have no need to know. We, the
urschell,
send them packets of seeds from various post offices around the continent—never the same twice. Unknown to the
sylyk,
tiny cocoons of the mutated worms are included along with the seeds. When the seeds are planted, so are the cocoons, which hatch as the seeds germinate. We tell them they must uproot the plants before they drop their seeds. Once they've used up one crop, they must wait for a new packet to start another.”

How very clever, Nelson thought with grudging admiration. They hold the reins on supply, and eliminate demand by keeping the panacea's very existence secret. That is how they've maintained control for fifteen centuries.

The situation was perfect for the Lord's purposes. People must never learn of the panacea's existence. If they knew, they would clamor for it, riot for it, and flock to the Serpent for it.

And that, he supposed, was reason enough to terminate Dr. Fanning. Avenging Uncle Jim would be simply a bonus. But he would let her know about her victim before she died.

“And here is the result,” the woman said, stepping over to a shelf and lifting a flask of cloudy fluid. She held it up and looked at Nelson. “What so many have died for. Their blood is on your hands.”

She unstoppered the flask, took a shot glass from that same shelf, and began to pour the fluid into it.

“What do you think you're doing?” Nelson said, stepping closer.

She tossed back the liquid. “I know I will be going to the All-Mother very soon. I wish to arrive in good health.” She looked over at Fanning and Hayden. “Perhaps I can offer some to your prisoners?”

“Absolutely not.”

“He doesn't want you to waste it,” Hayden said.

He'd saved Nelson the trouble of saying it.

“Wait,” Dr. Fanning said. “Are you planning to … kill us?”

“Of course he is, dear,” the old woman said.

“But we're no threat to you.”

“Ah, but you are,” Clotilde said. “He can't leave a witness to his crimes.”

Nelson felt a familiar rage expand within him. “Doctor Fanning has her own crime to answer for.”

She looked baffled. “What?”

“The man you ran down in Salt Lake City. You not only robbed him of the use of the left side of his body, but his career and his life's mission as well.”

“What on Earth are you…?” The light dawned in her eyes. “Fife … James Fife.”

“Yes!” he said, exalted now that he could finally confront her. “My uncle. The man who raised me.”

Fanning shook her head, her expression dismayed. “Your uncle … I'm sorry. I've never stopped regretting that.”

He didn't believe her—not a word of it.

“Empty words. You've suffered no consequences, while he's stuck in an East Meadow nursing home, suffering every day. That scale needs balancing.”

He waited for delicious fear to fill her eyes, but instead he saw tears pooling along the rims of her lids.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, her voice quavering. “That poor man.”

He fought the sudden evaporation of his exaltation. No … crocodile tears. She couldn't fool him. He'd—

“Brother Fife,” Clotilde said. “I ask you again: May I give them a wee dram to send them to the Goddess in good health?”

He forced himself to focus on the here and now. “And I tell you again: no.”

Clotilde gave him a level stare. “You don't look well, Brother Fife. As a good hostess I'd offer you a taste, but I know you won't take it.”

Nelson could not take his eyes off the bottle. There it was … the cure for his headaches, his blurred vision, his seizures … his cancer.

And then he realized that God had put him here on this island, in this cellar, with this high priestess of evil, for a purpose.

“Oh, but I will take it. I accept.”

He saw Clotilde's surprised expression, heard gasps of shock from his fellow brothers.

“Sir!” Bradsher said. “You mustn't!”

He turned to them. He wished he'd found a way to reveal this before, but the circumstances had never been right.

“I have cancer. It has spread through my body. The Lord has led me here so that I may be cured. It is the only way I can go on serving Him. And I must go on serving Him. For this is not the end of our holy task. You heard her: She said they are many and that someone would take her place to continue their foul work. I can't stop now. There's too much of the Lord's work yet to do. And besides, the sin is not in taking the panacea, but in making it.”

“Wow!” Hayden said. “Your moral and ethical muscles must ache like hell from the contortions you just put them through.”

The words stung but Nelson held firm. Bradsher and Chayat looked unconvinced, however.

“Don't you see the Divine Plan in this?” he said. “Using the Serpent's scheme against the Serpent itself? Can't you almost hear God laughing at the irony of it?”

When he turned back to Clotilde she was holding the shot glass out to him. Without hesitation he poured the liquid onto his tongue. It tasted awful and his stomach was already protesting, but he forced it down.

“I want some for my brothers.” He raised a hand to stifle their protests before they could start. “You two are here for a reason. Would you be so arrogant as to think that your presence is not part of a Divine Plan as well? Do you think that all the little day-to-day decisions that brought you here were entirely your own? You don't know what might be lurking beneath your skin, ready to bring you down before you complete your holy purpose. You were guided here and I command you to partake of this cure.”

With obvious reluctance, they took turns—Chayat first, stepping forward and quaffing the potion while Bradsher kept his weapon trained on their prisoner. Then Bradsher's turn.

“And now,” he told them, “we will be cured of whatever illness is hiding within, and will be healthier, hardier tools in the hand of the Lord.”

Hayden said, “Aren't the rest of your 536 buddies going to be up in arms when they hear about your little tea party here? Or will they want in too?”

“I have handled this operation on a need-to-know basis.”

“I see. Covering your ass: If you fail, only a few know, right?”

The man had struck uncomfortably close to the truth. But Nelson had an answer for him.

“Not at all. A compact operational unit is much more easily managed and fine-tuned.”

He noticed Clotilde staring at him. She said, “It works overnight, so you will not reap any benefit until tomorrow. But in the meantime…”

An alarm rang through his head. “In the meantime what?”

“Is the cancer in your brain?”

He saw no harm in telling someone who would very shortly be on her way to hell.

“Some of it.”

“You may feel some strange sensations as the
ikhar
shrinks those tumors and the displaced tissues move back into their original positions.”

He shook his head. “I know why you are doing this. You think that by putting me in your debt I will forsake my duty and spare you. And under more mundane circumstances I would be inclined to show you mercy. But the choice is not mine. Your sentence was passed when you sided with the Serpent. I will see it carried out. You cannot buy me off.”

“I believe you and your kind are the serpents. We exist to heal, you exist to destroy.”

Nelson clapped his hands. “Enough blather. Time to end this.”

He'd learned what he needed to know. And he had two Hellfire missiles ready to wreak havoc. Only a hundred pounds each, but so effective. Their armor-piercing capabilities would take them through the front wall. Their explosive payload would destroy everything above and below ground here. And since they'd use only a smidgen of their solid rocket fuel traveling from the helicopter, the resultant fire would incinerate the three bodies, the worms, and everything else in this structure—a Leviticus Sanction for everyone involved.