Outside the church, a thin pink-faced man in a long black trench coat stood next to a Salvation Army-style kettle, with a sign that said, "Please Donate," and under that, in small letters, "Suggested donation; $2 per person."

Jael said, "I thought Reverend Olson didn't accept compensation," and the man standing with the kettle said, "This is for the church, ma'am. Reverend Olson doesn't even take gas money out."

Lucas put a five-dollar bill in the kettle, and the man said, "Thanks very much, folksyou better get inside if you want to get a seat."

The church was severely plain inside: white walls, natural-wood floors, a center aisle between two ranks of pews, and a rough wooden cross at the far end. The pews were two-thirds full, with a couple of dozen people still milling around; Lucas and Jael sat near the back. The place was warm, and they took off their coats. In the far left corner of the church, two women from Narcotics chatted quietly with each other. In five minutes, the pews were full, and people began sitting in the aisle.

"The fire marshal would have a heart attack if he saw this," Lucas muttered as people continued to jam into the church.

Jael leaned toward him and said, "See the women?"

"What women?"

"In the dark blue vests." She pointed with her chin.

Lucas took a minute to pick them out: A half-dozen women were working around the front of the room, passing out sheets of paper, stopping to talk to people, laughing, chatting. Then Lucas picked out a couple of blue-vested men, also working the crowd. "Couple of guys, too. See the guy in the parka? He's got one on underneath."

"Oh, yeah. I didn't see him I wonder"

They were whispering, and Lucas whispered, "What?"

"Is this a cult?"

The lights began to dim, and Lucas shrugged. Then one of the women in blue vests gave them a stack of paper to pass down their pew, and they each took one and passed the rest. Lucas peered at the writing in the dimming light: the words to a half-dozen songs, and on the back, some kind of drawing. He put the paper in his lap and looked up as Olson appeared at the front of the church, stepped up on the dais, and started with, "How're y'all tonight?"

Some people said, "Fine," or "Good." Olson said, "I'm not very good. How many of you knew that Alie'e Maison was my sister? Hold up your hands."

Two thirds of the audience lifted their hands.

"So you know my sister was murdered, and my parents were murdered, and that a man named Amnon Plain was murdered. I want to talk to you about that." He talked about his sister and his parents for twenty minutes; how he and Sharon Olson and their parents lived their lives in Burnt River, a quiet, family-oriented small-town existence for the most part, with the one difference that Alie'e's looks and talents made.

"I didn't know any difference. I didn't know that even there, in Burnt River, running along the water, fishing with Dad, getting in apple fights with my friends, and BB gun fightsI'm sure more than a few of you have been in BB gun fights, even a few of you women, huh?" A ripple of laughter and acknowledgment ran through the audience. "I didn't know in all of that young, childish fun, even there, the evil was reaching out to us. Long tentacles, reaching out of New York, out of Los Angeles, long wispy fingers of evil settling over the minds of us all"

Lucas felt a creepy tingle. Olson had a deep, resonant voice, and knew how to play it: Although it seemed to drop to a whisper, and though it seemed to be aimed at each individual, it was loud enough to be heard perfectly. And he had the deep, stocky build, and the square, powerful head, that gave him a quality of suppressed violence.

He talked about the evil, and about its expression on television, in the movies, in fast-food businesses and on the Internet. "I have been around a little bit. I was in the Marine Corps, I worked as a shore patrolman at Subic Bay on payday. I know all the trouble that people can get into with sex, and with dope, and with greed and with the need of possession. I knows that there's some of it in all of usbut I also know that an adult can fight it. Maybe not win, but can choose to fight. But have you personally looked into this newest evil, this Internet, that all the schools and libraries now are trying to sell us? Have you looked on the Internet? I haveI looked at a library, with a librarian, one of our people, showing meand the evil on the Internet is beyond belief, beyond anything you might encounter at Subic, beyond anything you veterans of the world have seen, beyond all of that. And it is flowing straight to our children."

With that as a base, Olson began to preach: on the evil of the world, and the light to come; on Jesus, who was with us all the time, and who would be visible in the next few years. The end of times was upon us

The preaching lasted for twenty minutes, a rising and ebbing of emotion, the emotional appeals coming in waves that would crest, each higher than the last, with Olson wandering halfway down the aisle, talking, calling on the children of God, reaching into the pews to touch people, both men and women. The audience rocked with him in a shoulder-pushing rhythm. The noise of the audience, the heat inside the church, and Olson's voice together finally climaxed in a long, desperate wail

And when the wail died, Olson was smiling.

"But we're gonna be okay, because we're the children of the Lord."

And that, Lucas thought, was it for the night. Olson, in an almost businesslike way, began talking about Amnon Plain. "A biblical name, Amnon. And Plain, that's important. As soon as I heard the name, I thought this was a message; as soon as I heard of his murder, I was sure of it. I've spoken in this church about my admiration for the Plain people, our brothers the Amish and the Mennonites, and although our beliefs may be different, in that thing, in the belief in the Plain, we agree. The Plain will save you. You have seen some people here in blue vests; those are handmade blue vests, they all made them themselves. If you accept the Plain, make yourself a vest. Put it on. Then kill your TV. Kill your Internet connection. Turn away from the magazines that overflow with the Evil."

Suddenly they were back in it, but this time it was different, humping along in an almost orgasmic frenzy built around the wordPlain , and the evocation of the death of Amnon Plain, and the clear message to God's children.

As the frenzy built, Jael's fingers dug into Lucas's leg, dug in and held, and as Olson talked, the lights in the church continued to dim until it was nearly dark inside, with the only light around Olson at the front as he preached. He was tying himself in a knot, Lucas thought; his body was shaking with the violence of his words. People began to stand up and cry outthen the entire congregation was on its feet, and the wailing began again

And Olson, in the light, reached a new climax, dropped to his knees in an agony and threw up his hands, palms to the audience. Blood ran from wounds in his palms down his forearms, and the wailing became so intense that Lucas could hardly bear it.

Then Olson collapsed, and the wailing stopped as though a switch had been thrown, and the people of the audience looked at each other in stunned appreciation. A man from one of the front rows went to kneel beside Olson, and then another, and between them they got him back on his feet and led him to the side of the room, and then out of sight.

The thin man who'd been collecting money outside stepped into the light at the front of the church and said into the now-hushed room, "Reverend Olson will be back in a moment. For those of you who are new to the church, or our community, and are interested in Reverend Olson's concept of Plain, I would like to say a few words.

"There is no church of Plain. No money is collected, there is no organization. If you feel that you can be Plain, and you wish to be Plain, then make a vest. Or don't make a vest, if you don't wish to. Some of us find it easier to make the vest, as a reminder of what we are about. But I don't want any of you women making vests for your men. They should make their own, and if it doesn't come out just right then show them how, but let them do the work. The vest won't save you, it's just a piece of cloth. But you'll find that it keeps you very, very warm On the back of your song sheet, we've included a little sketch, a little pattern, for making your vest."