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nor did I ever want to be. If … if I were to bring it up with Brenda and she denied it, that would be that as far as I was concerned.”
    They sat in silence regarding each other for a few moments. Nash seemed markedly drained by the intensity of his effort to convince Koesler.
    Finally, in a declining effort, he shrugged. “Okay, let’s do it your way for now. You go think it over. But remember …” He smiled faintly. “You could save her soul. Remember? ‘The value of one immortal soul.’”
    Koesler nodded.
    Nash pushed a button on the arm of the wheelchair. Instantly, the young man in white appeared and piloted the chair and its occupant from the room.
    In a few moments, the man returned to usher Koesler to the elevator. Koesler would ponder this morning’s extraordinary conversation not only on the elevator but all the way on his drive home.
    The nearest he could come to a resolution of the situation was to pursue the matter in as nonconfrontational a way as possible. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to speak with Maureen about it. Or maybe with one of her sisters …
    It couldn’t hurt.
    And it might save one immortal soul.

C H A P T E R

    3
    AT 7:00 P.M . it was a bit late for rush hour traffic. Yet traffic on 1-75 northbound was moving at a crawl.
    Ordinarily, Ted Nash would have been extremely irritated. Not tonight. Too many things had broken for him today. So he was able to scrunch into the generous upholstery of his half-million-dollar custom Jaguar and enjoy the wraparound sound of Mozart coming from the CD player.
    Today’s major conquest had been over that ragtag group of environmentalists. He and they had been at each other with increasing frequency. So often, indeed, that he was becoming familiar with their names, their fields of expertise, even their odors.
    The latest battle had been over Ford Park. The group argued that Ford’s acres represented the final vestige of wetland within the corporate limits of the city of Detroit.
    Ted Nash needed that land. Translated into a large strip mall it could attract the patronage of one of the last best neighborhoods in the city. He had already secured Mayor Maynard Cobb’s assurance that the city would offer one sweetheart deal after another, including nonmetered parking.
    Of course the parking would not actually be free. Parking costs would be reflected in higher office rents or higher retail prices. But that was not Nash’s concern.
    The group’s arguments were the same tired complaints they always advanced. The animals, the birds, the fish, the trees—all endangered, all precious, all entitled to protection.
    They did not know their Bible.
    Why, in the very first chapter of Genesis, the very first book of the Bible, it said, “God created man in his image: in the divine image he created him: male and female he created them. God blessed them, saying: ‘Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and all the living things that move on the earth.’”
    These crazy nature lovers had it all backward.
    According to their interpretation of Scripture, the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and all living things that move on the earth have equality with man. Why, if that were even partly true, most of the marvelous accomplishments of Nash Enterprises would have been some sort of crime against nature, since, after all, nature had been pushed aside for the sake of all the malls, shopping centers, highrises, and residential developments that constituted Nash Enterprises.
    Such considerations had never bothered his father, Charlie Nash, in the least. Progress, for the old man, was a case of damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.
    Ted’s conscience, however, had always been a much more tender instrument of judgment and punishment. If he had not had his unique facility for making moral decisions armed not only with Scripture and tradition but with a healthy dose of reason, logic,