Mission Read Online Free PDF Page A

at the hospital. The swollen bruises on his face had disappeared and his nose had been reset. He stopped a couple of yards away from me. His eyes were tawny brown; his gaze, that had haunted me, very direct. I stood there and eyed him back, trying to manifest a subtle air of assurance. Listen, it’s not every day that you find the Son of God, or whatever you want to call him, standing on your doorstep. Because, believe me, that’s who it was. Miriam had been right. It wasn’t the victim of some gangland killing that the police had found in that alleyway. It was the body of the Risen Christ. And he’d come back. The Man was here. In front of me.
    Impossible? Of course it was. That’s what I tried to tell myself. It made no sense. Yet it had happened. Even so, my mind still refused to accept the evidence of my own eyes. And that was because an inescapable choice was being forced upon me. Something I hate. If I resisted up to the very last moment it was because of the fear that to accept his presence would totally change my life, just when I had reached the point when I was happy with the way things were. I could live with the world’s imperfections. Doing so enabled me to comfortably ignore my own.
    He glanced back at the Porsche with an admiring nod. ‘Nice.’
    That really threw me. It was so totally unexpected.
    â€˜Your name is Leo Resnick, right?’
    I gulped wordlessly and nodded.
    â€˜We met at the hospital,’ he said. ‘Do you know who I am?’
    I finally managed to loosen my larynx. ‘Yes, I think so. What can I do for you?’ What a question. But at the time, I had no idea where it was going to lead me.
    The Man just stood there, weighing me up with those deep-seteyes. There was something unnerving about the way he would look at you. It reminded me of a falcon. The way they fix on you as they sit on their handler’s gauntlet. After what seemed a long while he answered me. ‘I’m not sure yet.’
    I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. It was the ‘yet’ that did it. It meant that I was involved. That he not only knew my name but also had my number. And I remember cursing my luck and thinking if only it hadn’t been raining last Saturday I would have found a cab. I would have got to the hospital on time. Miriam and I would have left before the ambulance that brought him in had arrived. And maybe – who knows – maybe I could have stayed out of all this. If you had been in my place you would probably have felt the same way.
    But why me? Even now, it’s a question I still ask myself. Why pick on me? But on the other hand, when you think about it, why not? After all, the first time around, The Man just hauled a bunch of fishermen off the end of the pier at Capernaum. I’m anybody – just like the next man. And, as I said, we’re all in this together, whether we like it or not.
    The Man took in the view from the porch then turned back to me.
    â€˜This may sound a little strange but where am I?’
    That threw me too. I mean, you don’t expect Jesus to be interested in Porsche Carreras but when he steps out of nowhere onto your lawn, it’s not unreasonable to assume that he knows where he is.
    â€˜You’re in a place called Sleepy Hollow in up-state New York,’ I said. ‘The east bank of the Hudson river is just over there.’
    â€˜Ahh, thanks …’ He glanced briefly towards the trees.
    â€˜New York is part of the continental United States,’ I added helpfully. ‘North America?’
    He looked at me blankly. ‘How far is that from Jerusalem?’
    I thought it over and, as I worked out the answer, I was also thinking –
Get a grip on yourself, Resnick. Don’t crack up. This conversation is not actually taking place. You’ve just been overworking
– ‘Jerusalem?’ I heard myself say. ‘I would guess that the place you’re looking for