The Devil's Advocates
Bestselling author Delphine Sheldon stared out the window at her likeness being burned in effigy on the front lawn of her Plymouth, Massachusetts, home. Several angry people in the crowd of protesters were throwing copies of her book onto the pyre to feed the flames.
"Here in Massachusetts it's a cloth dummy," she said, annoyed at the infantile means the public used to show their disapproval of her work. "In Mississippi it was cross."
Her literary agent and business manager, Rip Fredericks, crossed the room and joined her at the window.
"Look at the bright side," Rip said with a laugh, exhibiting his well-known gallows humor. "At least these morons are buying your books if only to use them as kindling."
At the sound of the approaching police sirens, the fire-happy protestors scattered and vanished.
"Whatever happened to freedom of speech in this country?" Delphine asked, turning away from the window in disgust. "If people don't like what I say in my book, then they don't have to buy it. I can't believe that these narrow-minded idiots would carry things this far."
"You can't? I remember when I was a child I heard someone say that there were two things one should never discuss: politics and religion. Today it's pretty safe to talk about politics, but religion is still taboo. And you, my dear young woman, didn't stop at criticizing just one religion. You wrote a book exposing the inconsistencies and fallacies of all of them!"
"It's still only a book."
"It doesn't matter. Everyone hates you: Baptists, Muslims, Christian Scientists, Buddhists, Catholics, Methodists, Mormons, Scientologists and Jehovah's Witnesses, etc., etc."
Rip burst into peals of laughter.
"The Muslims want to stone you, the Jews want to crucify you, the Catholics would like to burn you at the stake and the Protestants think you're the Anti-Christ. You've even got a few Wiccans trying to cast spells on you! Hell, I'll bet somewhere deep in Pennsylvania Dutch country there's an irate Amish pow-wower trying to hex you!"
"Very funny, Rip!" Delphine declared, pouring herself a tall glass of Scotch and soda. "I really don't understand all of this uproar. I wrote a scholarly, impartial work on the history and practice of the world's major religions through the centuries. Can I help it that so many of them are laced with hypocrisy and superstition?"
"Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not criticizing your book. Personally and professionally, I believe it is a work of pure genius, a masterpiece. But need I remind you that I advised you not to write it? I knew it was bound to be banned in schools around the world and condemned by every religious leader as heresy, blasphemy and ...."
"Hey, don't underestimate the power of the pen," Delphine interrupted him with a bitter laugh. "That was the first time the Muslims, Jews, Christians and Pagans agreed on anything in thousands of years! Maybe I ought to offer my services to the United Nations."
"Sad but true. Now, let's change the subject. What about this Harlan Dreyfuss, Esq., who wants a meeting with you ...."
"Ah, yes, the mysterious lawyer. Did you find out whom he represents?"
"Not yet, but I'm sure we'll find out tomorrow when we meet with him."
* * *
The following afternoon a late model Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled into the circular driveway in front of Delphine Sheldon's two-story colonial home. When the uniformed chauffeur got out and opened the rear door, a distinguished-looking man about forty-five years of age, wearing a conservative yet expensively tailored suit, exited the car. With a slight limp, he walked up the driveway, climbed the front steps and rang the bell.
Rip Fredericks answered the door.
"Mr. Dreyfuss?"
"Yes," the man replied, shaking the agent's hand. "And you're Mr. Fredericks."
"Come in, please. Miss Sheldon has been expecting you."
The agent stepped aside so that the lawyer could enter the foyer.
Delphine, who believed she was about to be sued, greeted the man nervously.
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Something from the bar?"
"No, thank you."
After a minute or two of small talk, the writer got straight to the point.
"Whom do you represent, Mr. Dreyfuss?"
"Only myself."
"Oh? Well, let me warn you then. If you plan on taking legal action against me, I'm afraid you'll have to stand in line. Apparently, I've pissed off a lot of people."
"Rest assured. I have no intention of suing you, Miss Sheldon. On the contrary, I enjoyed your book very much."
"That puts you in a true minority."
"I enjoyed it so much in fact," Dreyfus continued, "that I would like to discuss my personally publishing the sequel."
Rip and Delphine looked at each other with disbelief.
"That's generous of you, but I have no plans to write a sequel," Delphine informed her visitor. "In the first place, I never dreamed my book would cause such pandemonium! Since it's been released, I get more death threats than Osama bin Laden. And in the second place, the book is a reference work, not a fictional story. Thus, the subject matter does not lend itself to a sequel."
"But I believe it does."
"And just what would you suggest I write about, Mr. Dreyfuss?"
"Me."
Delphine smiled politely but was anxious for the lawyer to leave.
"And exactly who are you? The Pope's personal attorney?"
"No. I'm no mortal man. I'm an angel; one of the heavenly host."
Rip, an atheist, chuckled.
"Who sent you here, Dreyfuss?"
Then the agent turned and addressed his client.
"I bet it was your ex-husband."
"I know what I say sounds absolutely ridiculous, Mr. Fredericks. You probably both think I'm insane, but please hear me out. If you still don't believe me once you have heard my story, then I'll leave here at once and not bother either of you again. You have my word on that."
Delphine turned to her agent. She wasn't really interested in hearing about Dreyfuss's delusions, but at least he was a welcome distraction from the angry crowds that would no doubt soon be back to protest outside her home.
"I've got nothing else to do right now. What about you, Rip?"
"All right, Mr. Dreyfuss. You've got our attention."
"First, you must discard all your preconceived notions of what an angel is. We are not the disembodied spirits of human beings who have died and crossed over into a great white light, nor are we servants to an almighty, all-powerful divine being in heaven. There are no agents of Good or Evil as is so often depicted in the great books of the world's religions. Angels are nothing more than an ancient race of giants who lived on Earth when it was first created. Over the millennia, a multitude of myths evolved about us. We were referred to as Titans and Gods by the early Greeks and later the Romans. We are, quite honestly, superior beings. We are immortal, and we have powers far beyond anything you mortals can comprehend.
"Nearly three millennia ago, my fellow angels and I evolved. We outgrew our corporeal bodies and became beings of pure thought and emotion. There was, however, an unforeseen drawback to being incorporeal. We lost the sensations that our bodies afforded us. Our existence became, quite frankly, very boring, so we created humans as a form of entertainment. To amuse ourselves, we maneuver your lives like pieces in a chess game, although you never realize it. For instance, the people of the world think Napoleon was a great general and a conqueror, but he was nothing more than a pawn in our little game. So were Moses, Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Christopher Columbus, Robespierre, Adolf Hitler and the unknown gunman on the grassy knoll in Dallas.
"Shortly after the first human beings were created, though, several of the angels got into a rather heated argument. It was suggested that man was not worthy of our time and effort, but one lone angel defended him against all his detractors—me!"
The lawyer raised his head proudly, as though expecting Delphine and her agent to thank him for his loyalty.
"The other angels," Dreyfuss continued, "were outraged that I should take man's side against them. As punishment, I was cast out and sentenced to serve time in the abyss. For one thousand years I was locked away, alone in the dark and cold. An entire millennium! That's a long time even for an immortal. And when I was finally released, I learned that man had turned against me.
"I, who had given the first humans the gift of knowledge in the Garden of Eden, was condemned by the very people I had so vehemently defended! I was called the Evil One, the Dark Lord, the Devil and the Prince of Lies. I had become the ultimate scapegoat. Man blamed me for all his faults and sins. Angels, although superior to men in every other aspect, suffer from the same conflicting emotions. Although I still cherished and believed in man, I was terribly hurt and angry by his betrayal, and I swore vengeance on all human beings.
"Oh, I know what you're probably thinking. You believe I sought out innocent men and women, tricked them into signing over their souls and then damned them to hell for all eternity, but you're wrong. No, I was much more devious than that. You see, long before I had been cast into the abyss, I created the law. It was my intention at that time to protect the innocent humans from the more corrupt ones, but later, to punish man for his betrayal of me, I created lawyers."
Once again, Rip roared with laughter.
"See, I told you this was all a joke. Lawyers created by the devil! That's a good one, Dreyfuss. I'd be willing to bet my new Mercedes it was your ex who sent him here, Delphine."
"I'm deadly serious, Mr. Fredericks."
The menacing look in the attorney's steely blue eyes immediately silenced the literary agent.
"The creation of lawyers was my curse on mankind. Think about it, won't you? Lawyers defend the guilty and set dangerous murderers, thieves, child molesters and rapists free to again prey on the weak and vulnerable in your society. Just look around you and see how many lawyers subvert the law to satisfy their personal greed and lust for power. Didn't you ever think it was a bit odd how many of them go into politics?"
"But not all lawyers lack a conscience," Delphine argued. "Some of the greatest men in history studied law: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Abraham Lincoln ...."
"But these men were products of our intervention, Miss Sheldon," Dreyfuss pointed out. "Man's lives are often changed without their knowledge, their chosen paths redirected. Adolf Hitler had wanted to be a painter before we decided he would seek world domination. Joseph Goebbels wanted to be a writer, but the angels had something else in mind for him, too."
"All right," Delphine said wearily. "Supposing what you just told us is the truth, what has this all to do with me? Why do you want me to write a book about you? And what would you want me to say in that book?"
"It's funny, but vengeance simply does not taste as sweet if it is kept a secret. I want mankind to know what I have done to them and exactly why I did it. Each time a high-paid defense attorney gets a murderer off, I want every man and woman to know that it was my doing, that I brought the scourge of advocates, counselors, attorneys and lawyers down upon them. And why not? I have been blamed for man's sins and shortcomings for three thousand years, falsely accused of seeking to corrupt their innocence and endangering their immortal souls. I want to set the record straight and admit to the one scourge I did place on man."
Delphine shook her head.
"If I were to write a book about what you just told me, I would be lynched in front of the Supreme Court building!"
"Is that what's worrying you?" Dreyfuss asked with a laugh. "Don't worry. You will be under divine protection."
"But why me? If you have the power to inspire men like Einstein and Newton, why do you need me to write your story?"
"I can't very well do it myself," the fallen angel explained. "Writing is a human accomplishment. If you must know, I have waited hundreds of years for you to come along, my dear."
"Me? I'm not that good a writer."
"You're better than most, and I'm no idle flatterer. However, that's not the reason I chose you. You see, nearly all humans have been brainwashed to some extent by their respective churches—even atheists, though they choose to turn their backs on religious teachings, have a grain of faith buried in their subconscious minds; they simply choose to defy it. You, on the other hand, looked at religion with your eyes wide open. You dissected it under a microscope and saw that it was full of inaccuracies and contradictions. By doing so, you left your mind open to seeing the truth."
Rip, always an agent at heart, cleared his throat dramatically.
"Pardon me for interrupting, but what's in it for Delphine, if she should write this book?"
"I would say another bestseller!"
* * *
Delphine Sheldon's Satan's Vengeance was an overnight success. Its sales soon exceeded the combined sales of the Harry Potter and Twilight books. Furthermore, Rip Fredericks was able to negotiate a lucrative movie deal, and Johnny Depp won an Oscar starring in the coveted title role.
After the novel's release, no one quite remembered Miss Sheldon's first book or the turmoil it had caused, not even the author herself. Nor would Delphine ever recall her meeting with the mysterious Harlan Dreyfuss. In fact, for the remainder of their lives, she and Rip believed that the book had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination.
I believe the devil created lawyers right after he created black cats.
