The Surrogate Read online

  Suddenly exhausted, Gus slumped back in his chair. After today, no more killing, he told himself. No more killing.

  He rose, nodded at Zubov, and made his way back to the front of the plane, where he sat down next to Buck asleep in his carrier. Just sitting there watching the sleeping infant calmed Gus. So innocent he was. So perfect. Gus touched the baby’s cheek with a fingertip. Buck opened his eyes and rewarded him with a toothless smile.

  Gus’s heart turned over in his chest.

  He would step down as chairman of the Committee of Five. Maybe he would even resign from the committee. Resign as president of Hartmann Oil. From now on he was just going to be a rancher. And a father to Buck and an uncle to Jason and a godfather to Amita. The three boys would grow up as best friends.

  Tomorrow, after everything was over and he and the babies and Randi and his sister were all at the ranch, he would go to the little chapel and pray for forgiveness. Yes, he would do that. Pray with all of his heart that God in heaven will wash away his sins and make him worthy of three innocent little boys.

  Jamie and Joe spent the day intentionally keeping Billy awake.

  They covered the drain in the shower and filled it with a couple of inches of water then took turns holding Billy so he wouldn’t topple over while he slapped the water and kicked with his feet, squealing with delight. And when he lost interest in splashing, they took turns carrying him up and down the lanes between the campsites, jiggling him, talking to him, constantly moving him from one position to another. They put a blanket under a tree and tickled him and shook a baby rattle in his face. They sang songs and fed him spoonfuls of applesauce—his very first solid food. When he got absolutely frantic with hunger, Jamie would nurse him for a short time then play with him some more. Jamie and Billy both cried during the drive to the Temple of Praise. “He must think I’m the worst mother in the whole world,” she sobbed over his wailing. “The poor little guy is starving to death.”

  “Not much longer,” Joe kept telling her.

  But the traffic was terrible. The trip was taking longer than they had planned. Jamie felt as though her breasts were about to explode. And with every cry that came from Billy’s mouth, she would feel spurts of milk erupt from them.

  Joe parked the RV behind the building in an area reserved for such vehicles. Jamie sobbed as she forced her furious baby into the sling then finally slipped a leaking nipple into his mouth and felt his little body go limp with relief. Joe pulled on his choir robe then put another one over Jamie’s head. She looked like a woman soon to give birth to a very large baby.

  “Billy’s going to suffocate,” she said.

  “It’s just until you get inside,” Joe told her. “Then you can hide out in the restroom until it’s time to go onstage.”

  “What if someone figures out I have a baby with me?”

  “Just go, Jamie. Now, while Billy is quiet.”

  “I’ve never been so scared in my life,” she told him. “Not even when I was alone in that old house giving birth.”

  “I’m scared, too,” Joe said. “We’re doing this so we won’t have to be scared anymore.”

  A guard was posted outside the entrance to the choir room. He smiled pleasantly as they pushed open the door.

  Marcia and her two cameramen—actually a cameraman and a camerawoman—surveyed the huge sanctuary that was already beginning to fill with people. Marcia explained that once the service began, she wanted them to shoot from the stage, the balcony, and the back of the sanctuary to show the vastness of the space and the sea of people. Then they were to go backstage. Marcia showed them a copy of the Life magazine cover. “I want dramatic footage that is reminiscent of this historic photograph,” Marcia explained. “And I want up-close-and-personal shots of Amanda onstage with her baby. And of her preaching, of course. Wait until she really gets into it and be sure to get the part where she invites people to come to the front. Apparently she goes down those center stairs to meet them. There’s one family I’m particularly interested in—I’ll let you know when I spot them.”

  “You mean we have to stay for the whole thing?” Jill the camerawoman protested.

  “We’ll stay until I have my story,” Marcia said.

  Marcia was nervous and jumpy, in part, she supposed, because she hadn’t slept well the night before. She didn’t like buying into conspiracy theories. Didn’t want to believe that there were powerful people who operated outside of the law. Part of her hoped that nothing was going to happen today. But part of her wanted The Big Story.

  Chapter Forty-two

  GUS AND RANDI, with assistance from Zubov and Bella, carried the babies and their accompanying paraphernalia to a backstage dressing room.

  Gus was perspiring profusely. He could smell the odor of his own body and worried that Randi might notice.

  And his bowels were beginning to churn.

  He used the restroom down the hall rather than the one in the dressing room. When he came out of the stall, he unbuttoned his shirt and sponged his underarms with wet paper towels. His face in the mirror looked pale and drawn. Today was the most important day of his life, he realized. Failure was unacceptable.

  He walked back to the dressing room, squared his shoulders, composed a smile on his face, and opened the door.

  “Are you all right, Mister Gus?” Randi asked, her forehead creased with worry.

  “My stomach is a bit upset,” he told her.

  Gus checked his watch. Were Jamie Long and Joe Brammer already on their way to the Temple of Praise or would they wait until the last possible minute to arrive? He hoped they came early and were dealt with without causing any disruption. Zubov and his people would take them away, and it would be as though Jamie Long and her boyfriend had never existed. Then he could relax and enjoy the evening. He hadn’t seen his sister preach in person in years.

  After sipping a Seven-Up that Randi had brought him, his innards seemed to settle down a bit. He left the room to search out a private corner so he could call Zubov.

  No sign of them yet, he learned. But it was early still. The service wouldn’t start for two hours.

  Already, though, there was a beehive of activity backstage. Electricians were running one last check on the lighting and sound systems. A tiny woman in a long Hawaiian-looking garment was bustling about inspecting the floral arrangements on the stage and repositioning them.

  People were trying not to stare at Gus, taking furtive glances or waiting until they thought he was looking elsewhere to study him. An item of curiosity. A man who wasn’t short enough to be a midget but definitely not normal-looking. It had been years since Gus had been around this many strangers. He had spent his entire life avoiding strangers. But today was a unique day. A day that marked a new beginning. He felt almost feverish in his excitement and wished that Amanda were here so he could embrace her and feel her cool hand on his forehead. Not that he could tell her why he was in this state of disquiet. Amanda had no idea what a special day this was.

  His sister claimed that dressing rooms gave her claustrophobia. She did her own makeup and arrived minutes before it was time for her to walk onstage. Sometimes she arrived late, but no one ever got mad at Amanda. They probably just assumed that she was having a last few minutes with God in preparation for her words of praise and redemption.

  Gus walked over to the curtain and peeked out into the sanctuary. Musicians were setting up their electronic equipment in the orchestra pit. Four seats in the middle of the front row were roped off. He hoped that there would be no need to use them, that Zubov and his team would have already apprehended Jamie and her boyfriend and be long gone before the service began. By the time Amanda walked onstage Jamie Long and Joe Brammer would be dead.

  Early comers already occupied the rest of the seats in the first row. In fact, the lower half of the main floor was practically full, as were the front-row seats in the balcony.

  God, he was nervous. He would like something alcoholic to drink but in lieu of that wou
ld settle for another Seven-Up. The vending machines were just around the corner, but he never carried money.

  He called Zubov again.

  Still no sign of Jamie, Joe, and the baby.

  He went back to the dressing room and played with Buck for a while then fed him a bottle and jiggled him to sleep. Then he stepped outside the room to call Zubov again. The Russian reported that Marcia Kimball and her camera crew were roaming around the sanctuary talking to worshippers. But there was still no sign of Jamie Long and her baby and boyfriend.

  Doubt was beginning to nag at Gus. Had he read Jamie and Joe’s actions all wrong? Maybe they had some other reason for being in Dallas.

  Except that Joe’s former girlfriend Marcia Kimball was out there waiting to capture the meeting of Amanda and Jamie on camera.

  A meeting that was never going to happen.

  The orchestra began playing. Gus pulled the curtain aside and looked out front once again, scanning the faces in the crowd.

  Zubov called to tell him that Amanda had arrived.

  Gus watched as the choir members filed in and took their seats in the tiered choir stalls on either side of the stage and a robed minister with hair that looked as though it were made of plastic stepped into the golden pulpit under the heroic-sized and agonizingly graphic floating crucifix.

  The curtain began to open as the voices of the choir boomed forth:

  Love divine, all loves excelling,

  joy of heaven, to earth come down,

  fix in us thy humble dwelling,

  all thy faithful mercies crown.

  A spotlight illuminated the pulpit as it rose and floated over the stage until it was hovering over the orchestra pit. People in the first rows tilted their heads back and were looking up at the minister. His voice boomed forth, “This is a day the Lord hath made.”

  Gus kept scanning the faces in the audience while the minister welcomed everyone to the Temple of Praise and said what an honor it was for the temple to welcome one of God’s most eloquent and beloved messengers, Sister Amanda Tutt Hartmann. The man gave a brief overview of Amanda’s incredible lineage and ministry. Then he offered a prayer in which he asked the Lord to open the hearts of all assembled and help them accept the message they would hear today and leave the temple praising His holy name.

  Gus was beginning to feel ill. Where were they, damn it!

  The choir sang another hymn.

  Come, Thou almighty King,

  Help us Thy Name to sing,

  Help us to praise!

  Father all glorious,

  O’er all victorious,

  Come and reign over us, Ancient of Days!

  Then suddenly Amanda was walking out onstage. And the audience rose as one. The ovation was thunderous and reverberated all around Gus. The floor trembled under his feet.

  As was her way, Amanda was dressed in a flowing white gown. She wore no jewelry. Her hair was down and brushed smooth and shining. Gus glanced up at the close-up of her face on one of the huge overhead screens. So beautiful she looked. Like an angel. His heart swelled painfully with pride and love.

  Amanda smiled for a few minutes, seeming to enjoy the audience’s response. Then she lifted her arms, and in just a few seconds a hush came over the vast sanctuary. It was as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting to hear the first words that came out of her mouth.

  Amanda put her hands over her heart. “I love you,” she said.

  And the applause began again. Wave after wave of it. The audience was overjoyed that Amanda loved them.

  Once again she lifted a hand and quiet fell. “I have a baby,” she said with a broad smile, her voice girlishly breathless. “Everyone said that I was too old to have a baby. My physician told me I was too old to have a baby. My body told me that I was too old. But God granted me a miracle after my beloved son died. I thank God a hundred times a day for the gift of this child, and I want to share him with you today.”

  Once again applause began to erupt, but Amanda lifted her hand to stop it. “Applause might frighten him,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “We named him Jason, which means ‘healer.’ We named him that because this beautiful child healed my broken heart and has taught me to live again, just as God intended.” Then Amanda gestured offstage to Randi, her arms outstretched, ready to receive her child. Gus was standing just behind Randi. Amanda’s eyebrows shot up in recognition and surprise.

  Randi carried Buck to center stage amid a soft chorus of “ahhs” from the audience, placed the baby in Amanda’s arms, and backed away.

  Gus watched as Amanda’s body seemed to stiffen just a bit. There was awkwardness in the way she held the child. She kissed the baby and offered a smile to the audience that was a bit too broad, a bit too dazzling. Gus held his breath as little Buck’s body tensed at the feel of unfamiliar arms—arms that were not as loving and tender as those to which he was accustomed.

  Amanda held on to her forced smile as Buck began to wail, but her shoulders became rigid. The muscles in her neck grew taut as she lifted him to her shoulder and began to pat his back. But Buck’s back arched as his cry turned into a scream of protest.

  Gus could see that his sister was beginning to panic. She was doing all the wrong things. Her disquiet was transferring itself to the baby. He wanted to rush out there and take Buck from her, or at least tell her to relax and talk soothingly to the child. And to jiggle him, for God’s sake. If Gus had learned one thing about babies in the last two months, it was the value of jiggling. And pacifiers helped. Amita didn’t respond to a pacifier, but Buck did. Buck could soothe himself if he had a pacifier. There was one dangling from a ribbon clipped to his shirt.

  “Use the pacifier,” Gus called to her, but Amanda didn’t hear. Didn’t respond.

  He was about to repeat his instructions in a louder voice when suddenly the voice of a lone, unaccompanied male singer filled the stage. Gus glanced toward the choir loft on the left side of the stage. The singer was standing—a bald man wearing a gray choir robe. The man grabbed the hands of the choir members on either side of him and pulled them along with him as he walked down the steps. The words he sang were familiar ones.

  Jesus loves the little children

  All the children of the world

  As he sang, another voice joined in. A female voice. A heavy woman who had been sitting behind him stood and grabbed the hand of the woman on her left and followed the bald man and his companions, who were now singing along.

  Red and yellow, black and white

  They are precious in his sight

  Jesus loves the little children of the world

  When the young man reached Amanda’s side, he turned and gestured expansively to the other choir members, indicating that they, too, were to come forward and raise their voices with him. The choir members glanced at one another as though unsure of what they should do, then slowly began to come forward. Orderly, row by row, they came, drifting to the center of the stage, singing. Once the exodus was in progress, the bald man reached for the crying baby. It all seemed so rehearsed that Gus assumed it was an intended part of the proceedings.

  Amanda hesitated then relinquished Buck to the man, who immediately began to jiggle him. Gus sighed with relief when the man put the pacifier in Buck’s mouth.

  Dozens of the choir members were now gathered around Amanda, singing the familiar song remembered from their Sunday school days. With smiles they were singing. And the audience joined in. Each round of the song grew stronger and more triumphant.

  The heavy woman had stepped behind the others, but from his vantage point, Gus had a clear view of her. With her back to him, he watched as she unzipped her choir robe and let it drop to the floor. She wasn’t heavy at all. Her body was slim and straight and young. She seemed to be unfastening some sort of harness.

  It took Gus several heartbeats to understand who she was and what she was doing.

  And suddenly there he was. Sonny’s baby. The child for which Gus ha
d been searching. The child his sister wanted more than anything.

  Jamie Long bent to kiss the baby and whisper to him. Gus could well imagine what she was saying. She was telling Sonny’s baby that she loved him, that everything was going to be all right. And Gus could tell by the language of her body and the look on her face that this young woman did indeed love her baby. Her love was bountiful.

  Over and over audience and choir sang the familiar refrain. With faces radiating love and hope, they sang. Jesus did indeed love little children. And here was one of those children for them to love right along with Jesus—the child of their beloved Amanda, who promised them hope and glory, who told them of a God who loved them and cared about them and knew what was in their hearts. A God who was here with them now.

  With her own baby reassured, Jamie Long tucked him close to her body and made her way through the cluster of singers until she was standing beside Amanda. And the singing grew louder. Here was another little child for them to love. An anonymous child.

  Gus watched Amanda’s face as she looked first at Jamie and then at the baby in her arms.

  Suddenly Amanda was trying to grab the baby away from Jamie, who was backing away and shaking her head.

  “That’s my baby!” Amanda screamed, looking around frantically for someone to help her.

  One by one, the choir members stopped singing. A wave of silence swept through the audience until every voice was stilled and the vast sanctuary became eerily silent as puzzled worshippers tried to discern the meaning of the drama they were witnessing onstage.

  Amanda screamed again. “She has my baby.”

  Gus took a step forward.

  “Gus,” Amanda shrieked. “It’s her. It’s Jamie Long. She has Sonny’s baby.”

  Gus took a tentative step forward as Amanda abruptly turned to Jamie. “Just let me hold him for a minute. Please let me hold him. I promise that I’ll give him back. In front of all these people, I promise. In front of God, I promise. I just want to hold my son’s baby. Please.”