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Show Acting Alone Page 40o Yes, it is a good cause, you must understand, that will amply repay America a thousandfold right where it counts: in the hearts of her people. A renewed Americanism, a megavitamin shot in patriotism's languishing right buttock, in exchange for a mere few weeks, two to three months at the absolute outside, of only partial thermonuclear security for our good continent. And now that whole multiple phase was over. The last missionary, or "Companion," had been rounded up in the woods and accounted for. Young Axelrad's mission had been carried out sloppily, but successfully. Yes, that part of the enterprise, the more lucrative, the more dangerous, but the less dear to Elder Cicerone's heart, was complete, thank Heavenly Father. The Council's heavy construction- and light demolition- and land clearing-contrators were grinding uphill even at this moment on their way to Saint Paphnutius, that lovely, extensive, aspen-rustling retreat on the mountainside at whose rolling emerald feet spread our country's mighty breadbasket, flat and green-velvety as a billiard table. (Well, actually, the Elder himself had engaged the contractors on church-corporation credit, good as gold; for the Council had been delaying, Elder Cicerone hoped not strangely so, on giving the actual go-ahead for the official public claiming of the land.) "An organization without creativity is one dead in Jesus' eyes." Hear now the words of good Councillor Ezra, who would approve and be delighted when he received the formal reports on this esoteric series of enterprises - or so Elder Cicerone hoped and trusted in the Almighty. Godwilling the recent rumors of the Elder's being in bad odor with the Council of the Twelve for some unimaginable reason were unfounded. At any rate he really didn't want to hear any more foul language tonight. |