The Presence (41 page)

TJ gave the President a slight bow, turned, and left the room.

The silence hung like a shroud. The President finally broke the quiet in a voice made hoarse by emotion, “I don't care who he is, I don't care what he's doing. I want him out, and I want him out now.”

****

TJ Case arrived back in his office shaken from the contact, but not doubting. There was no room for doubt, not anymore. He was being shown the Way, and he was walking it in the name of his Lord. This was no time for fear or hesitation. He had been brought into the presence of mighty rulers, and had been shown what to say.

There was a large hand-drawn poster over Amy Lou's desk that he had not seen before. A passage from Jeremiah, done in fancy scrollwork, proclaimed, “O land, land, land, hear the word of the Lord!”

“I had a friend do it for me,” she said, watching his gaze.

“It is truly beautiful,” TJ said.

“Senator Atterly's assistant has been calling you every fifteen minutes. He says it's very urgent. Do you want me to get him for you?”

“Please. Is Nak around?”

“He said to tell you that the
Washington Post
wanted to do a piece on you, but when they couldn't get you they decided to interview Nak. He made them promise that if you didn't like the idea they wouldn't print it. I've got the number where they can be reached, if you want it.”

“No, no,” TJ smiled. “Go ahead and get the senator's office, will you?”

It was the senator himself who came on the line. “You've met my assistant, Larry Turbot?”

“No, not so as I would remember his name.”

“He's the one who found out about your prayer meetings and started dragging over the rest of my staff. Anyway, he's got a friend from church who's right up there in HUD.”

“Sort of a Christian underground,” TJ commented, a smile in his voice.

“You'd be surprised. Anyway, his friend's done some checking.”

TJ thought the man sounded excited. “Is this good news or bad?”

“Pretty good, I'd say. You can decide for yourself. It turns out that HUD has four different housing projects scheduled for the Adams-Morgan area. They've all been on hold for two years. And the other one, the one your Community of Hope people lost out on, that one was never even started. The time's run out, the contract's null and void, and it can be awarded again. Guess who the builder was.”

“One of those lobbying for the slow-down?”

“Right on the button. Company called the Atlas Group, ever heard of them?”

“Why, yes I have, as a matter of fact. They competed against a friend of mine on a project back in North Carolina. There was some impropriety, and we entered suit against them. They settled out of court.”

“Well, our friend at HUD confirmed that they're buying up as much of Adams-Morgan as they can get their grubby little paws on. Then they're just sitting on it, waiting till the Metro line's finished. Probably plan some massive redevelopment, you know the kind. Major high-rise apartments, shopping centers, sports halls, priced for the upper-income market. And the thing is, they've already approached HUD for financing. Looks like they're going to get it, too. If they do, those jokers will make an absolute killing.”

TJ thought it over, felt a resigned sadness. “What about the people living there now?”

“Not much profit in housing for the poor,” Senator Atterly said. “I imagine most of them will wind up out on the street, or shunted off to some outer area.”

“That's not right,” TJ said quietly.

“No, it's not,” Senator Atterly agreed. “And it looks like we might have found out about this in time. My assistant's over there right now, putting a bee in their bonnet. He's wandering the halls, asking everybody he can about these projects and why they've been on hold. He's let it drop a dozen times or so that it's going to be one of the major items brought up in the Senate investigation.” Senator Atterly chuckled. “I'd imagine you'd find quite a few people over there on the border of major heart attacks just now.”

“So you think Reverend Nees might get his financing?”

“Here's the thing. I got a call from HUD, oh, a half hour ago. Fellow from the Contracts Award Division asks me if I was taking a personal interest in this Community of Hope bid. I told him I was interested in the whole affair, so interested I might even become the minority spokesman on the issue. But, yes, I was particularly interested in knowing why the lowest bid on three different projects was not receiving proper attention. Fellow does an outstanding job of hemming and hawing and papering over the deal with a lot of hot air, then comes out with the corker. Says they're just this afternoon planning to award the Community of Hope, are you ready for this? They're going to award them all
five
jobs.”

“Good heavens,” TJ breathed.

“Turns out they're all about the same, redevelopment of condemned property that the city has taken over. Range from a half million to a little over a million. Total comes to, let's see, I wrote it down, here it is. Three million, eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Think your people can handle five different projects at once?”

“I'm sure they can,” TJ said, not trying to hide his jubilation. “This friend of mine, the one who took Atlas to court, he's a professional contractor. He's over working with them right now. I'm positive he'd be willing to act as project coordinator.”

“That's fine. You want to be the one to tell them?”

“I'd love to, but couldn't you come down and let Reverend Nees thank you himself?”

“No, it's probably better if I'm not seen in the limelight on this one. I might just decide to be a Senate spokesman on that investigation after all. Let the dust settle; then maybe we can all get together and plan the next move.”

“I can't thank you enough,” TJ told him.

“Don't give it a second thought. I don't feel as if I've really done much at all. It's the first time in quite a while that I've felt what it's like to be the Lord's instrument. I don't mind telling you, it's given me quite a thrill.”

TJ came out of his office feeling as if he were floating ten inches off the ground. Amy Lou was waiting for him. “It's Nak on the phone, sir. He's been waiting for you to get through. The
Washington Post
man wants to do an interview of you this evening also, to appear in tomorrow's paper.”

It hit him then, truly like a thunderbolt out of the sky. The power of the message left no doubt from whence it came. TJ laughed aloud, thought to himself, I'm trying to climb out on every limb in sight.

“Tell Nak to bring the reporter down to the Community of Hope at 1417 Belmont Street Northwest. I'll meet them there at six. Oh, and call that young lady at the television station, Miss Sandra Hastings. They'll probably try to give you a runaround, but see if you can press them into paging her. If they do, ask her to join us as well. Tell her we have a story for her that she should really enjoy.”

****

The message had already come in from HUD. When TJ arrived, he found the place in absolute bedlam. Jeremy was swinging Anna around the front office like a drunken dance partner.

“I don't know what you did, old friend, but from here it looks like solid gold.”

“You're going to wring that poor girl's neck,” TJ observed.

“Naw, they make 'em tough down here.” Jeremy swung around so as to be able to reach TJ with his free arm. “Now why don't we go on into Tom's office so's you can tell the story just one time to everybody.”

“There isn't time, Jem. The press should be here any minute.”

“Press?” Tom Nees appeared in his doorway. “You've brought the press into this already? Why?”

“Tom, if TJ Case has got the press comin' down, you can bet your bottom dollar there's a good reason for it.” Jeremy looked at his dancing partner, said, “You're not gettin' tired are you, miss?”

“Just try to loosen that headlock a little, would you?” She held out her hand to TJ, gave him a warm smile. “Nobody can believe what you've done.”

“The man didn't do a thing except let himself be the Lord's instrument,” Jeremy said. “If there's anybody who oughtta be thanked right now, it's the Man upstairs.”

“Absolutely right,” TJ said. “We've got just a few minutes before the press arrive. Do you think we could all join hands for a prayer?” The circle formed quickly, heads were bowed and quiet restored.

“Father, we thank you for the wonderful bounty which you have bestowed on us,” TJ began. Eleven of them had joined hands in a haphazard circle that snaked around the stairwell and the reception desk. “It is truly a wondrous event, to see the unfolding of your miracles, and to know that we have had a small part to play. Let us never forget how little it is that we ourselves have done, Lord. Simply because the action has been taken by ourselves, and because we cannot see with our physical eyes that you have made our road straight, let us never assume that
we
are responsible, that
we
have made this happen.

“You have guided me to ask the press here, Father. I do not even know why this is so, or what it is that I should say. Help me, please, help us all to speak the words that you place in our mouths. Let us pass on your message, sing your praises, speak of your holy presence in our lives. Let there be no room for selfish praise or self-seeking glory. Let us speak of the One who has made all things come to pass, who has granted us this miracle of service. In Jesus' name. Amen.”

People raised their heads, seemed reluctant to let go of one another's hands. Anna quoted from memory the passage from Second Corinthians, “‘God in his mercy has given us this service, and so we do not become discouraged.' ““Amen,” Jeremy chimed in.

They heard the murmur of voices rise from downstairs. “That'll be the press,” TJ said. “Reverend Nees, is there any particular way you'd like to handle this?”

“Personally, I would have preferred to wait until I had the HUD agreement in writing,” Tom Nees replied.

Jeremy looked at TJ, said, “Did you have a push from above on this?”

“More like a kick in the hindquarters,” TJ replied.

“There's your answer, Tom,” Jeremy said. “If the man's gettin' divine direction on this thing, the best we can do is hold our breath and dive on in.”

They moved downstairs, where the man from the
Washington Post
was decidedly upset to find the television station there as well. “I thought this was supposed to be an exclusive interview,” he grumbled.

“I agreed to nothing of the sort,” TJ replied, turned, smiled, and said, “Good evening, Miss Hastings. It's so nice you could join us.”

“What, is she the one who did the interview last week?” The
Post
man was irate. “I don't believe this.”

Jeremy limped up. “Sport, you've got two choices. You can shut up with the complainin' and hear what the man's got to say, or you can be deposited in the street.” Jeremy looked around, asked, “I'd say that was pretty clear, wouldn't you?”

“That's enough, Jem,” TJ said, and offered his hand to the
Post
reporter. “TJ Case.”

“Hank Weathers. Glad to know you, Mr. Case.” He indicated Sandra Hastings with a jerk of his chin, said, “She in on this too?”

“It turns out I have something new to report, which is why I asked you both down here,” TJ replied. “After we've discussed this, I would be happy to live up to the bargain and talk with you alone. How does that sound?”

The man grinned. “Fair enough. Thanks, Mr. Case.”

“Fine. I'd like to introduce you to the director of the Community of Hope, Reverend Tom Nees.”

Reverend Nees shook hands all around, said, “Why don't we troop back upstairs and get started?”

While Sandra went out to gather her crew, Nak walked over, greeted his boss with, “Do we still have jobs?”

“As of five o'clock this afternoon, nobody had told me anything differently,” TJ replied.

Nak nodded, no expression. He looked over, said, “Nice to see you again, Mr. Hughes.”

“Son, what say I use your shoulder to get back up those stairs. I believe I've just about worn this lady plum out.”

“I think I need a neck brace,” Anna agreed.

TJ listened to their slow clumping procession, waited until Sandra Hastings reappeared, greeted her crew, and walked them upstairs. “I hope it wasn't too difficult for you people to come over on such short notice.”

“As a matter of fact,” Sandra Hastings replied, “we'd just received a cancellation not twenty minutes before your message arrived. We were supposed to be downtown to interview the mayor about some questionable police matter, but it was put off until later tonight.” She laughed. “I suppose you'd call that another of your miracles, right?”

“Why don't we wait until you hear what I have to say,” TJ replied. “Then you can decide for yourself.”

“If it's anything like your prayer meeting,” Sandra Hastings replied, “I can't wait.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” TJ told her.

“I don't know if
enjoy
is the right word,” she said. “It certainly made me think, though. I've even found myself reading the Bible now and then.”

“Just remember that as long as you don't commit yourself, you're walking along a razor's edge,” TJ told her. “The only safe place in all the u
NIV
erse is within our Savior's arms. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to take that step.”

“Amen,” said a voice from behind them.

Sandra Hastings turned, said, “I didn't know you were a Christian, Mark.”

The bearded cameraman gave TJ a very embarrassed glance. “That's pretty much the worst condemnation you could make, isn't it, Mr. Case?”