If Angels Fall

FORTY-EIGHT

Keller was following the path of his exalted mission.

Pursuing the third angel. The conqueror of Satan.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Snip. Snip. Snip.

The doubters were closing in. Snip. Snip. And he stillfaced many obstacles in his final step to the transfiguration.

He remained calm.

I am cleansed in the light of the Lord.

The time has come to transform himself. Snip. Thedoubters had photographed his face and were searching for him. But he did notworry, trimming his hair, his beard, lathering his face. Soon all would knowhim as the enlightened one, the chosen one, anointed to reveal the celestialpromise of reunion with his children.

Along his glorious path, he never challenged themysterious ways of deified love. Michael Jason Faraday was the third angel, orso he thought, until the nine-year-old Oakland boy had moved to London with hisfamily a few months ago. At first Keller could not understand it. He wascertain Faraday was the third angel. The signs were correct. His age, his birthday.Keller had studied him, kept a vigil. But before he could make contact, he wasgone.

On the eve of the transfiguration, the third angelhad vanished.

What was the message?

It had to be a divine test of faith.

Keller had remained steadfast. Like Christ in thedesert. He did not succumb to temptation, to doubt. God would light his path todestiny.

And he did.

A couple of weeks from the transfiguration, the mortalidentity of the true third angel was revealed to him. It took Keller some timeto absorb the holy sigh. It became crystalline a few days ago, during hismorning reading of the Scriptures. He now knew who the third angel was. He hadlittle time to find him.

Keller finished shaving, then made a few phone calls,talking politely, jotting down notes. He put on a white shirt, tied, and suit,checked his old leather briefcase. It was empty except for one businesscard-that of Frank Trent, of Golden Bay Mutual Insurance. Trent was the man whohad handled the death claims for his children twenty years ago. Keller tuckedthe card in his breast pocket and took the briefcase with him before looking inon Gabriel and Raphael.

Mid-afternoon. They were sufficiently sedated. Helocked the basement door, then the house, and walked into the brilliantsunlight, a well-dressed, respectable-looking businessman on a Holy Mission.After twelve blocks, he hailed a cab.

Veronica Tilley yearned for her family and friends inTulsa.

“I am a fish out of water here. A stranger in astrange land,” she would tell her husband, Lester.

His face would crease into a smile. “Now, now, Ronnie.Just make an effort to experience the city, gather some memories. It’s only fortwo years. Hang on.”

“Of course, I’ll hang on, Lester. What choice do Ihave? I am just telling you I miss Oklahoma. It doesn’t shake like California.”

Lester’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll be home soon.”

Veronica had agreed to Lester’s two-year transfer toSan Francisco because she realized he had to satisfy some deep-seated manlyneed. He’d devoted twenty-three years to his company, all of them in Tulsa. Theboys had gone off to college, and the middle-age jitters were getting to him.Younger managers did well by taking out-of-state postings. Lester had to provehe could run with the young bloods.

But Veronica was lonely in San Francisco. She missedher position as secretary-treasurer of Tulsa’s Historical Society. She longedfor their house in Mapleridge, hated that they had to lease it and rent in SanFrancisco. For her, coming here was like going to outer space. Earthquakes.Weirdos. The other day on the Mission Street cable car, a man wearing a printdress, pearls, and rouge on his cheeks, sat beside her.

Gawd. And now this. She puffed her cheeks and exhaled.

Veronica was miffed. The couple who owned the housethey were renting had just informed them that they were going to move backafter ninety days. Ninety days! People didn’t do things like in Tulsa. Afterjust settling in, she and Lester had to find another house to rent. And in thismarket! Here she was running around, checking with agencies, newspapers,searching for a suitable place. Oh, she was glad the young couple hadreconciled. There was a little boy involved. But Veronica was also ticked. Shetold Lester they should talk to a lawyer, but he insisted it would be best ifthey found another place and let the young couple get on with their lives.

Veronica circled one of her choices in theclassifieds: “Furnished. Alamo Sq. Restored 12rm Vict. Hot tub. View antiques,3 frplcs.” Must be heavenly because it sure was expensive. $3900.

The doorbell rang.

Veronica peeked through the curtain. A salesman ofsome sort was standing on her doorstep. He seemed harmless. She opened thedoor.

“Good afternoon. I’m Frank Trent from Golden BayMutual.”

“Yes…?”

“I’m here for Mrs. Ann Reed.”

“Ann Reed? Boy they don’t waste any time.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Talking to myself. Sorry, they haven’t moved backyet.”

“I’m confused. This is the address for Ann Reed?”Keller knew the family had moved. And he knew the Lord would help locate the thirdangel. “The policies for her and her son, Zachary, have lapsed.”

“Life insurance?”

“I’m a new agent. I’ve yet to meet her and it’simperative I get her signature today on clause changes.” He tapped hisbriefcase.

“We’re only renting their house. They’re moving backin ninety days. Why don’t I take your card and have her call you?”

“That’s kind of you, but I will be out of town onbusiness for three weeks by this afternoon and I fear I may miss her. It’svital that I get her signature today.”

Veronica studied the stranger. He seemed okay.

“Do you have a card?”

Keller reached into his breast pocket and handed herFrank Trent’s card. Veronica held it thoughtfully.

“Come in.”

She went to the telephone table in the hall, flippedthrough her address book, punched in a number. The line rang and rang,unanswered.

“Nobody’s home,” she said.

“Well I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” Kellerfrowned.

Veronica didn’t really want to give out Ann Reed’saddress in Berkeley, but she didn’t exactly feel beholden to her either. Whatthe hell? She copied Ann Reed’s address and number from her book.

“There you go. Maybe you can reach her yourself, Mr.Trent.”

Keller accepted the piece of paper and looked at itfor the longest time. Strange, Veronica thought, the way he just stared at it,like it was a winning lottery ticket. Finally, he looked her in the eye andsmiles with disturbing intensity.

“God bless you,” he said. “God bless you.”