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This is a work of ction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors imagination and are not construed to be real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

2011 Kent Wallace

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from Gods Word. Gods Word is a copyrighted work of Gods Word to the Nations Bible Society. Quotations are used by permission. Copyright 1995 by Gods Word to the Nations Bible Society. All rights reserved.

Praise of Confessions of an American Terrorist from the Past

You are a den of vipers! I intend to rout you out, and by Eternal God I will rout you out. If the people only understood the rank injustice of our money and banking system, there would be a revolution before morning. President Andrew Jackson ***** I am concerned for the security of our great nation; not so much because of any threat from without, but because of the insidious forces working from within. General Douglass MacArthur ***** The Orders working and involvement in America is immense. The real rulers in Washington are invisible and exercise power from behind the scenes. Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter ***** I believe that if the people of this nation fully understood what Congress has done to them over the last 49 years, they would move on Washington; they would not wait for an election... It adds up to a preconceived plan to destroy the economic and social independence of the United States. George W. Malone, U.S. Senator (Nevada) ***** The real menace of our Republic is the invisible government which like a giant octopus sprawls its slimy legs over our cities, states, and nation Mayor John F. Hylan (New York City)

The real truth of the matter is, as you and I know, that a nancial element in the larger centers has owned the government since the days of Andrew Jackson. In politics nothing happens by accident; if it happens, you can be sure we planned it that way. President Franklin Roosevelt ***** Some of the biggest men in the United States, in the eld of commerce and manufacture, are afraid of something. They know that there is a power somewhere so organized, so subtle, so watchful, so interlocked, so complete, so pervasive, that they had better not speak above their breath when they speak in condemnation of it. President Woodrow Wilson ***** If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, rst by ination, and then by deation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. President Thomas Jefferson ***** It is not my intention to doubt that the doctrine of the Illuminati and the principles of Jacobism had not spread in the United States. On the contrary, no one is more satised of this fact than I am. President George Washington ***** The Council on Foreign Relations is the American branch of a society which is organized in England... (and) ... believes national borders should be obliterated and one-world rule established. U.S. Senator, Barry Goldwater

The Council on Foreign Relations is dedicated to one-world government... (and) ...for converting the United States from a sovereign Constitutional Republic, into a servile member state of one-world dictatorship. U.S. Congressman, John R. Rarick ***** The most powerful clique in these elitist groups have one objective in common they want to bring about the surrender of the sovereignty and the national independence of the United States. A second clique of international bankers in the Council on Foreign Relations... comprises the Wall Street international bankers and their key agents. Primarily, they want the world banking monopoly from whatever power ends up in the control of global government. Chester Ward, U.S. Navy Rear Admiral (retired), and former CFR member ***** Allow me to issue and control the money of a nation, and I care not who writes the laws. Mayer Amschel Rothschild, Illuminati Banker, 1828 ***** This Act (the Federal Reserve Act, Dec. 23rd, 1913) establishes the most gigantic trust on earth. When the President (Woodrow Wilson) signs the Bill, the invisible government of the Monetary Power will be legalized... The worst legislative crime of the ages is perpetrated by this banking and currency Bill. Charles A. Lindbergh, Sr. ***** I am a most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country. A great industrial nation is controlled by its system of credit. Our system of credit is concentrated. The growth of the nation, therefore, and all our activities are in the hands of a few men. We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely controlled and dominated governments in the civilized world. No longer a government by free opinion, no longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men. President Woodrow Wilson

The technotronic era involves the gradual appearance of a more controlled society. Such a society would be dominated by an elite, unrestrained by traditional values (of Liberty). Soon it will be possible to assert almost continuous surveillance over every citizen and maintain up-to-date complete les containing even the most personal information about the citizen. These les will be subject to instantaneous retrieval by the authorities. Society (would be) dominated by an elite whose claim to political power would rest on allegedly superior scientic know-how. Unhindered by the restraints of traditional liberal values, this elite would not hesitate to achieve its political ends by using the latest modern techniques for inuencing public behavior and keeping society under close surveillance and control. "I once put it rather pungently, and I was attered that the British Foreign Secretary repeated this, as follows: ... namely, in early times, it was easier to control a million people, literally it was easier to control a million people than physically to kill a million people. Today, it is innitely easier to kill a million people than to control a million people. It is easier to kill than to control..." Zbignew Brzezinski, National Security Advisor to President Jimmy Carter

I dedicate this book to my wife Meghan, who gave up everything for the Great Ones cause. -Percival Marshall

To my wife and boys. Your courage to selessly pay the costs required to make this book a reality is unfathomable. I respect and honor your willingness to embrace the adventure. -Kent Wallace

Prologue A
ll it took was two hours and one envelope, and my life was changed forever. Mind you, he did give me the option to say no. But something inside me silenced the fear, telling me to do it, even though it would likely cost my life; my familys life. Soon after that fateful meeting, our world began to come apart. One day, the IRS showed up on our doorstep out of the blue to audit our nances for the past few years. They found numerous discrepancies, even though our taxes were prepared by a competent chartered accountant. They levied an astronomical ne, and provided us with another monthly bill. One week to the day later, the bank phoned, stating that due to several red ags from the credit agency, the interest on our mortgage payment would be increasing by ve percent! We put our house up for sale a week later. Then there were the hang-up calls from a private number. At rst, they rang during dinner time. Soon after, they developed a preference for the middle of the night, where a voice would say, Mr. Wallace? Were watching you. Please understand, its only because we care. A month later, our home was ransacked, and my computers were stolen. But they didnt nd what was in the envelope and they werent able to steal the manuscript I had begun to work on, for it was hidden on a thumb-drive that I taped behind my desk. In the next six months, we sold our home, led for personal bankruptcy, and moved to a trailer on a remote, wooded lot in northern Canada. There is no mailbox at the end of our long driveway. Our electricity comes from batteries charged by solar panels. We use a prepaid cell phone. Our water is pumped by hand, and we heat our home and food with a wood cookstove. We may have dropped off the face of the earth, but were still alive to tell the story. A fantastic story. An unbelievable story... that becomes entirely believable when you take the time to investigate the facts presented before you. Though names and places have been altered to protect the innocent, and a few storylines have been fabricated to better round-out the narrative (rendering this work as ction), it is based on true events. The electronic version of this book contains internet links to various articles and historical lms that will point to these facts, removing doubt in the mind of any reader willing to do a little extra-curricular research.

The world is on the cusp of a cataclysmic shift; every aspect of our current way of life is about to change. The ruthless authors of this change, are banking that you will keep your head in the sand, and will be taken by surprise when the shift takes place. They dont want you to know, because they dont want you to act. A young pastor named Alexander Putnam (aka Percival Marshall) showed up to my home one November afternoon with an envelope lled with notes he had written, and a memory stick containing several audio recordings. He spent only two hours with me that day, before rushing to the Buffalo airport to catch a plane to Charlotte, North Carolina; where he would reunite with the rest of his group to y out of the country. His, is an incredible tale. To have you read it, will make all of the risks that have been taken to get it published, worthwhile. It is a story that will change how you view your world. It is a story that will encourage the silent majority to begin to exercise their voice. Kent Wallace, March 2010

Chapter 1 A
lexander Putnam III, glanced at the clock on the wall for the tenth time in twenty minutes. Everyone else had left to go home at noon. Lucky for him, he had been assigned to work four additional hours on Fridays until the ofce ofcially closed. It was the consolation prize for being the last one hired. Just seven more minutes. He was tired. Tired of it all. Tired of the hypocrisy. The sudden thought of hypocrisy made him wonder what Putnam II was doing just now. Probably immersed in the glitz of the D.C. Beltway, celebrating another lobbying coup with his arms manufacturing cronies. All while he, Putnam III, sat fty miles to the southwest in a modest church ofce counting down the nal seconds that would blast him into the weekend. How different his life would have been if he had simply given in, following in his old mans footsteps. Going his own direction had taken guts. Rejecting the family business had resulted in his being rejected; inheritance and all. Six minutes and thirty seconds remaining... The knock on his ofce door jarred him back to reality. A stately old gentleman of stooped stature, draped in a dripping-wet trench coat, peered through the doorway. Mind if I come in? sounded the English accent through neatly trimmed, grey-bearded jowls. Please do, Alex replied politely, more out of being caught unawares, than from true sincerity. Im closing up the building at four, so that gives us a couple of minutes, was his lame recovery. Greybeard chuckled softly, his rich baritone voice setting things at ease. A couple of minutes, eh? Yes, this will only take a few minutes. Damn right it will only take a few minutes. I was accessible to you all week, and now youre about to step on my time. My free time. When would these self-centered congregants learn? He began wishing that Greybeard had been one of the many damsels in distress that would come knocking on his door throughout the week. The senior pastor had told him to make an excuse and vacate the premises immediately if such was the case when he was alone in the building. Compromising appearances of evil needed to be avoided in this line of work. Well, you look like youve had a long day, the old, deep voice sympathized.

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The warm familiarity with which Greybeard spoke made Alex uneasy. He had never seen the man before. Not on a Sunday. Not ever. Yeah... actually, its been a long week, he convincingly played the victim. The old man plopped his slouched frame down in a well-worn chair opposite Alex, his cool blue eyes searching the other mans face. I have a favor to ask of you young man. He then paused, seeming to choose his next words carefully. Putnam III wondered if the old fellow might just die on the spot. Yes, I will do your funeral. Now would you just expire so I can get on with my weekend? Greybeards eyes twinkled, as if reading the young pastors mind. I need an assurance of complete condentiality, before I continue. But of course, what you say will not leave this ofce. We are professionals here. Get on with it old man. I need a condant. Someone who I can implicitly trust. No problem. But it could end up being a problem for you, you see? I have chosen you because I think youre up to the task. I need you to write down some very important things, so that they can be shared with others. At this point Alex knew he had a crackpot on his hands. He may be young, but he had enough intuition and experience to gure out the motives of those who sat in the opposite chair with relative speed and accuracy. He began plotting his exit strategy. What kind of things do you want me to write down? he snagged a yellow legal pad while trying to appear genuinely interested. Is God giving you a message to share with the church? Even he was surprised at how condescending it sounded. But then the tables turned. Weak old Greybeard began to transform before his eyes. The slouch was gone. The kind twinkle left his eyes, replaced by holy re. The calming low tones of the voice took on a staccato edge, and there was no hesitation as the words owed out. Listen, Alexander. I have been studying you for almost four months now. I know your patterns, what you eat, what you think, and all the other predictable things you do before you do them. Putnam III began to think it was time to call the cops. He began reaching for the phone when Greybeard latched onto his hand, and with unusual strength, pulled the younger man to within inches of his weathered face.

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Look at me, son. I am not one of your yuppie, suburban do-gooders that come to this church each Sunday. I am an old man, about to die; if not from the cancer that is eating me alive from the inside, then from a cancer on the outside that wants me dead. I was guided to you. I studied you. And now, I know you better than you know yourself. You are a self-centered, deluded little prig, who has, nonetheless, been selected for the job. That being said, I will not be spoken to like a senile fool or disrespected any further. I simply do not have the patience for such nonsense when the time is so short. Now give me some of your time so that I can adequately explain. Youre just going to leave this ofce to go home and surf for porn, anyway. Alex felt the shock of shame ripple through him as he slowly tried to pull away from the old mans grasp. Greybeard knew him, or so it seemed, and all his dark little secrets. He may as well resign. Putnam II would no doubt laugh in his face. A pastor who was known to use his spare time to search out virtual buxom blondes was not a commodity in high demand.

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Chapter 2 A
nondescript, late-model car crept slowly along the road, its two occupants wishing to be inconspicuous while at the same time wanting a better look. What do you think hes doing in there? Confessing his sins? chuckled the driver to the other agent. The passenger, a thin man, with a pale, wrinkled, smokers face accompanied by yellow teeth swore under his breath. This could be trouble, I think. It breaks with his prole. Hes not a religious man, and hasnt attended any church in the last year that I know of. Fifty bucks says hes leaving something in the church that will be recovered on Sunday morning when there is an innocent-looking crowd around. The heavyset driver cracked his window, hoping for a little fresh air, regardless of the steady rain falling outside. Cool drops began to dampen the sleeve of his shirt; a small price to relieve him of the connement he often felt sitting for hours beside his new partner. Jack Grimsby had been with the Agency for sixteen years, and had never wished for a different assignment. He had spent boring months in stakeouts, had experienced real fear as an undercover inltrator in a motorcycle gang, and had even spent weeks sifting through garbage from dumpsters. He could do all that. But to spend one more day with The Duke seemed like a life sentence. The Duke was a legend at the Agency. When Jack had been assigned as his partner, he had heard all of the stories, told to him as though it were some kind of folklore. But no one mentioned that The Duke was a mean SOB, who lit up as often as he cursed. No one mentioned that The Duke was a badass of the highest order, with political, law enforcement, and corporate connections that we indescribable. No one mentioned that The Duke was not required to play by the rules. Jack inhaled the fresh air, wondering which sweet breath would be his last, before The Duke would tell him to Shut the efn window! only to bring a ame to another one those horrible European cigarettes he enjoyed inhaling. Its not right. I dont like this one bit. The church is not part of the prole, The Duke repeated. He was agitated, and he began to scrawl something on a notepad. Jack caught a scribbled word out of the corner of his eye: Traitor! Now what did that mean? He reminded himself to simply be a helpful stooge. Be a chauffeur, a secretary, a working mule. He had learned early on, that there was no teamwork with The Duke. The Duke did not like questions. He didnt like considering any ideas other than his own. He was in a much higher, altogether separate league.

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I want every corner of that church searched by tomorrow morning, you understand? Grimsby nodded, ipping open his phone to begin gathering the troops for another late night. ***** Alex nally managed to pull away from Greybeards uncommonly strong grasp, rolling his chair away from the man so that he was facing the laptop computer on his desk. He was shaken by the old mans violation of his privacy, and deeply embarrassed. Around the church, he had been a shining star, respected and admired by young and old alike. He was the tall, chiseled, super associate-pastor with the charisma and charm. People looked to him for answers; they came to him with their troubles, and he had helped many of them. That the old man had discovered his hidden life frightened him. The business of religion was driven by reputation. When the congregation found out, they would reject him as the tarnished piece of trash he secretly knew himself to be. He subconsciously began ddling with his computer keyboard in quasi-delirium, when the old man spoke. I am not here to reveal your vices, Mr. Putnam. But you must realize that with me, you must be honest. Lets get something straight. I am not remotely impressed by you, and therefore will not massage your ego. You are an excellent writer, a fairly decent oral communicator, and an adept organizer. But you are a fraud. Not because of the bad habits which exist in your personal life, but because you are an insincere prick, who has positioned himself to assist vulnerable people. You are glib with broken people; and that makes you an imbecile of the highest order. The re had not left Greybeards eyes. Blackmail... this had to be some sort of twisted blackmail plot, thought Alex. He ddled with his computer, avoiding eye contact. Quickly, he initiated the laptops microphone, and began recording. If Greybeard was going to try to blackmail him, he was going to have evidence. Then, feeling a renewed sense of condence, Alex leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head, as he inquired, Youre welcome to your opinion, sir. I might be more inclined to hear more about what you have to say after you properly introduce yourself to me. Whats your name? He was going to sue this old fart when it was all said and done. How dare he march into his ofce and berate him in this way? The gaul of him! And come to think of it, nobody could prove a thing. Hed been very careful to keep his internet exploits conned to home. It would be his word against this deranged old man.

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Not so fast young man, there seemed to be a hint of kindness now accompanying the strong accent. Weve much territory to cover before we get to that. We have agreements to make. So here it was then. The terms of the blackmail. Little did Greybeard know that his father would not pay a red cent. Sure, Putnam II had millions. But there was no way he would part with it to save his sons reputation and job. Even if his father answered the phone when Putnam IIIs number came up, he knew he would just laugh at him. It would be a big joke; a story he could repeat, over and over to his lobbying pals. What are the terms of the agreements you wish to make? Alex asked, yet again clutching a yellow legal pad while attempting to appear interested. Pushing the pad away, the old man replied, You and me, we will make agreements not on paper, but in the heart. Once you have given me your word, then it shall be done. An agreement of the heart. What a sentimental old fool. He was hoping the microphone on his computer was capturing every incriminating word. Alex sat back, noticing that the hunched over posture had returned, as had the warmth in Greybeards eyes. Just a helpless, tired, old man... who somehow knew the secrets of his private life, and was about to ask for cash that his father would never pay. Lets hear the terms. This should be good. Our agreements for today are quite simple, his voice faded, as it seemed that strength was leaving the old man. You and I must meet every week at this same time, for however long it takes. That is our rst agreement. He continued, The second is that you keep a written transcript of our time together. There is to be absolutely no video or audio recordings under any circumstances. Understand? Alex nodded... pretending to write some notes. Sorry old man, but I am already recording every damning word. Lastly. Everything we discuss must remain condential until the book is released. And, what book would that be? Alex was relieved and concerned at the same time. It seemed that he was going to be dodging the blackmail bullet. But the thought of spending any more time with Greybeard was horrifyingly disconcerting. A hint of amusement wrinkled through the old mans eyes. The book you are going to write, of course. I am going to dictate the information to you, and you are going to write it down for others to read. What I have to say is critical, not just for you and our country; but for all of humankind. Do you understand?

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Alex fought to control his reaction, fearing he would yet again emit his belief that Greybeard was indeed the worst kind of nut-case. Bad things happened the last time he did that. He attempted a new tact, Are you some kind of prophet or something? Bah! Nothing of the sort! the old man was animated now. I am no prophet of God. I was the Great Ones principle enemy, working against him from the inception of my life. Now I have to make it right, before it is too late!

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Chapter 3 T
ossing his car keys on the kitchen counter, Alex breathed a sigh of relief. The shock of his late afternoon visitor was beginning to wear off. Finally, the moment he had been waiting for since Monday afternoon had arrived: the weekend. Even still, he was irritated. His time off consisted only of Friday nights and Saturdays, as Sunday mornings and afternoons required him to attend multiple church services. Having Mondays off offered no consolation. But his internal grumblings today were not nearly as pronounced as per his usual Friday afternoon griping routines. Surprisingly, he even failed to curse the pledge he had signed when hired on at the church, which forbade him from drinking alcohol. This day, he was simply relieved to be out of that God-forsaken church ofce and snugly at home. He threw his wet jacket over a chair and trundled to his bedroom desk, where he tapped the space bar of his computer keyboard, subconsciously initiating his regular post-work relaxation-ritual. As the screen blinked to life, he glanced at the desk clock: 4:12PM. Well, Ill be... he muttered. Greybeard had been true to his word. His visit had ended as quickly as it had begun. As soon as Alex had consented to meeting with the old man at regular intervals, he had lifted his decrepit frame with amazing agility and slipped out of the back door of the church. Alex had stood near the ofce window, an exhausted ball of nerves, relieved at the sight of the big cars tail lights as they faded into the wet, grey afternoon. He was just about to lock up and leave, when, out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. Was he mistaken, or did an apparently vacant sedan on the opposite side of the road suddenly come to life; pulling a violent u-turn, in order to follow Greybeards disappearing car? Alex shook his head in disgust. The old feelings of paranoia he had fought throughout his entire life were oozing back into his subconscious again. He had let himself get suckered in by Greybeard, and his fantastic story about saving the world. But the old man had known about his darkest secret. Perhaps there was just cause for his current unsettled demeanor. Idling over his computer, he began mindlessly searching out familiar websites that would connect him with the ever-familiar updates of images that he had witnessed yearin and year-out since his teen years. The girls were all different, but the images were the same, and although he was uncertain as to why, he knew it had a calming effect on him.

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He stuck to a routine that fueled his need for peace, well aware that he was inclined to straddle a blurry line between being in control through methodical organization, and becoming altogether unhinged. At least that is the way he perceived others viewed him. Perusing the virtual girls seemed to steady him, he thought. However, there were those occasions when his porn compulsion became incredibly distressing, spurring a revulsion that would shake him so deeply, that he was tempted to take a sledgehammer to his computer. These moments of despair occurred when he accidentally happened upon the wrong girl or the wrong scene. When he could perceive a model was sad or distraught in the midst of her explicit exposure, or if she was being uncaringly manhandled, he would often become troubled for days, overcome by guilt and remorse. Feelings of compassion for the subjects of racy photos always ruined the fantasy for him. And this was why he habitually frequented the same websites. Glitz, glamor, and playful teasing... this was the food for his soul. Alex knew his enslavement to his impulses reected the essence of his entire personhood. In one corner was the outward man who was constantly in control. He was someone who intuitively grasped at the reins of leadership; someone who stood tall, strong, and handsome among men; someone who could lead with moral clarity. In the other corner was his inward man, who was a paradox of good and evil. Sitting on his right shoulder was the angel of faith who sensed an uncompromising call to justice and righteousness. On the left, sat the troubling devil of lust, who promised to consummate his curiosity for beautiful unveiled esh, with a relaxed calm. That the devil never fullled his end of the bargain was a moot point. As Alex surfed along, clicking here and scrolling there, saving what he liked to his evershrinking hard drive, he found his thoughts wandering back to his meeting with the old man. Then he froze, swearing under his breath. Was that old limey pervert, Greybeard, tracking him now? Even now, as he surfed his beloved websites adding to his virtual harem? He quit out of his web browser, staring blankly at the screen, feeling lost and empty, chastising himself for his lack of self-control. How did a person with his outward condence, end up such a weak, jittery mess on the inside. One day, he was a mans man, going about Gods work, rescuing single moms and widows in their distress, expounding on the necessity for moral purity; and the next he was a pimply-faced kid, shamefully caught with his hand in the cookie jar. All because of Greybeards snooping around in his private affairs.

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Alex cursed again, loudly this time, and went to the kitchen, desperately wanting a drink. He needed inner calm. In the absence of booze he raided a cupboard, eating handfuls of cookies like a starving lunatic in some vain attempt to drown out the aching loneliness he felt inside. It was a fruitless activity that made him feel physically ill, but it was better than nothing. He opened the fridge and stared blankly inside, thinking that he should be making a decent meal, rather than needlessly gorging himself. Stir-crazy. That old Greybeard had messed him up. Disgusted, he slammed the fridge door, opened a phonebook, and began to pound violently on the keys of his telephone. Meghan Kiplinger please. As he waited he drummed his ngers on the table impatiently. Hey, Meg! Sorry to grab you at work. Alex Putnam here. Long time no talk... He was smooth-talking now, trying to be casual. You were on my mind, and Ive been feeling bad about the way we left things off. You wanna grab a bite to eat? Yeah, okay. Ill pick you up at work in 30 minutes! Alex knew he was a fool. To be a church leader caught in a minor matter of private indiscretion was one thing. To reach out again to Meghan after all this time was another. He was a damned fool; more certain than ever that hell was populated with hypocrites like him.

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Chapter 4 T
he two agents followed the big car at a distance. It edged its way through busy weekend trafc, back to the familiar turf of an upscale suburban neighborhood near the Capitol. Jack Grimsby did his best to exude a detached demeanor, hoping it would wear off on his passenger, who had been chain smoking while madly texting on his cell phone. Something was wrong. He desperately wanted to ask The Duke where the crisis lay, but thought better of it. Best just remain a helpful stooge. He pulled over to the side of the road, put the car in park, while watching the old mans dark sedan pull into a gated driveway along mansion boulevard. The guys in the van would take over from here. The silence inside the Agency car was interrupted only by the sound of the windshield wipers. Eventually The Duke would speak. Take me back to headquarters, he said, with a fancy European cigarette clenched in his teeth. Whats next? Grimsby asked, as he steered back onto the road. Youre going to assemble your team, drive back out to Camden Heights, and go through every inch of that church. I not only want to know what the old man left there, but I want to know if he spoke to anyone. Weve got a problem on our hands, Jack, and I have to solve it. Wherein lies the problem? Grimsby oated out the question, not really expecting a response. The problem, Jack, is that our man set foot inside a church, The Duke answered disdainfully. The problem, Jack, is that men like George Talbott have made it their lifes pattern to stay away from such places. So you see, Jack, when a man who has come under suspicion of subversive terrorist activities that could undermine the government of the United States, suddenly breaks his normal pattern, we know something big is underfoot. So, Jack, now is not the time for your childish questions. It is time to turn that building inside out! Grimsby made a mental note for the umpteenth time: It was best not to ask questions. Driving along in the stark silence, he revisited the brieng he had been given on George Talbott. The old man had been the sole heir of a dominant British coal mining company, owning land in 5 countries and ten American states. When the world began threatening to

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abandon coal in favor of greener energy sources, Talbott developed and marketed coal burners that that surpassed global regulations, and established contracts with sixty-ve percent of the coal burning power plants in the world. He then bought out a U.S. automotive components manufacturer, and quickly moved it to Mexico. Next it was a telecommunications company, that he relocated to India. And nally, was the rather recent revelation that the Talbott family was heavily invested in the banking industry, through a shell company established in the Caymans. The secret nature of his business dealings had required many Agency man-hours to uncover, providing a stark contrast to the transparency of his philanthropic dealings through the Talbott Foundation. The Foundation ranked among the whos who of charity work. It spent money lavishly on ghting AIDS, ensuring that the children of third world countries had access to the World Wide Web, while ghting starvation in Africa through a partnership with a major agri-business technology company who claimed to have developed drought resistant seeds. Lesser known, but still prevalent in the Talbott Foundations dossier, was its ongoing support of womens issues, from providing scholarships to major science colleges, the funding of clinics which provided medical treatment for unwanted pregnancies, to the establishment of safe-houses in every major U.S. city to protect women from domestic violence. Hardly a candidate for the nations Terror Watch List, Grimsby thought. It was an honor that was recently bestowed upon Talbott when he had mysteriously disappeared for six months. During the rst month, it had been reported that the old man was taking some downtime to recover from a minor prostate surgery for cancer. Nobody gave it a second thought. But Talbott was a well-connected man with friends who did not take his disappearance lightly. Hospitals and clinics worldwide were contacted. An ofcial APB went out to determine his whereabouts after he failed to show for consecutive meetings of the Trilateral Commission and Council on Foreign Relations think-tanks, where he was an inuential member. It became obvious that there were people in high places who were rankled at his disappearance. For in the ensuing months, locating George Talbott became one of the Agencys top priorities. There were false sightings, and many dead ends. The case was shifted from one unit to the next, as each one failed the objective. Then, the clandestine Dark Unit was given the task. Led by The Duke the indomitable closer of impossible cases it seemed that he too, was going to fail. Grimsby had observed him, in those initial weeks of failure; noticed the nervous twitches, and his hand shaking as he held his cigarette. And two months later, George Talbott mysteriously resurfaced. Agent Jack Grimsby could not guess how the disappearance of one man could make such a difference in the lives of these fearless leaders of world affairs. But during that

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last month, he witnessed a lot of chain-smoking and hand-wringing. George showed up, and it seemed that everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. Strangely, after the initial consolation of Talbotts return had worn off, the uneasiness of his disappearance seemed to linger. While the old man had obviously picked up where he had left off gure-heading his companies and foundation, while attending his various think-tank and United Nations meetings in New York the Agency had actually increased their interest in him as a suspect. The question was... a suspect of what? A multi-billionaire money launderer? It was a real head-scratcher to Grimsby, who was equally curious as to why he had been yanked off of a case hed been working on for over a year, in order to be partnered with The Duke. Jack brought the vehicle to a stop at an inconspicuous entry at the rear of the Agency, where The Duke offered no further instructions. He sprang from the car, briskly walking to the building, where he waited for the biometric scanner to give him entry. He didnt look back. Here was a man on a mission, Grimsby thought, as he pulled away to join up with his team in Camden Heights. It was going to be another very long night, and he hoped his wife and kids would understand.

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Chapter 5 G
eorge Talbott walked stify through the foyer and struggled up the marble steps to the study on the second oor of his lavishly appointed home. He had been ready, just a year ago, to unload it to a diplomat who was in the market. At this stage of life, he really needed the ease of a downtown luxury condominium. But it was not to be. He was stuck here, likely for the duration of his life. The mansion had once been his trophy. A gleaming fortress that showed his neighborhood and the world that he was a man on the move; someone to be reckoned with. Its walls once reverberated with the gaiety of big spending wives and mistresses, the buzzing of assistants and servants, and the ceaseless annoyance and later the guilt and remorse of parentally neglected children vying for his attention. But the regal stone home had become a cold cofn lled with regret, and he was ready to accept it for what it was. He frequently reminded himself, that no matter how horrible he felt, he was deserving of less. To sell the home now would overplay his hand. He had to be very careful. There were ames crackling cheerfully in the replace of the book-lined study, but it did little to melt the heaviness upon him. He retrieved a bottle from a silver tray, poured a glass of brandy, and collapsed into one of two leather armchairs facing the warm re. Do you think hell go for it? asked the man in the opposite chair. Hes just a kid, and a squirrelly one at that. Hes smart enough. But I dont think he has the guts to go through with it. I think youve made a mistake. No, hes the right one, I am sure. It was spoken that he was the one chosen for the task. So all that is left, is for you and me to believe it, and to act accordingly. Did your men debug the house again? Talbott inquired fraily, wondering how freely they could speak. Just this afternoon. Were going to begin having some difculties if we dont nd some creative solutions to the agents in the van down the street. Were running out of options for cover stories explaining all of our comings and goings in here. You could just rehire some house staff. Then my people could be here around the clock. Monk, I cant have people in the house. It reminds me what it was. And I cannot go on day-in and day-out so lled with dread.

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The lithe, bald cleric, wearing a traditional brown habit, drained the last of the bandy from his glass, and spoke with a serious tone, You have to be kept safe. The plan would be ruined if you died before you told the story. We need some of my men here. For a moment, he was silent, squinting his eyes contemplatively into the ames, searching for an answer. Would you consent, if I ensured that they would be invisible to you? George Talbott, folded his hands on his lap, and shut his eyes, ghting the bitterness that was trying to overcome him. Do any of your men cook? Some home cooking would be a very good thing. Yes. We will put a cook here on staff. And a doctor too. ***** Meghan was the daughter of Saul and Mary Kiplinger: the largest donors to the Camden Heights First United Congregational Church. The Kiplinger family was one of privilege and status; maintaining the strictest image of religious decency. Meg was beautiful, spoiled, and could do no wrong in her parents eyes; all facts in which she was well versed. And it conspired to make her a tempting forbidden fruit for Putnam III. A few years back, when Alex rst began working at the church, he experienced a brief moment of moral confusion. After arriving on the scene with much fanfare, the hip, young pastor was commissioned with the task of reviving the youth of the congregation. Meghan, who had just returned home for summer break from her third year in college had been blossoming into adulthood for several years now, but still needed reviving. At rst, it was a simple nod and smile on Sundays Alex was far too professional to stare at her impossible-to-hide curves which then turned into coffee at a local eatery. Soon they began to steal away to more private environs, where the last thing on the young pastors mind was the Lords work. Admittedly, he had crossed the line a little, all in the name of frisky, good-natured fun, of course. Then the crap hit the fan. Apparently, some of the other single women in the church became jealous of their little escapades, and made a passing remark to the senior pastor, questioning its propriety. Alex then had to explain himself before a disciplinary committee, which included the senior pastor, the smug female associate minister who hated his guts, along with some bigwigs from the regional denomination ofces. He was told, like a scolded toddler, that his behavior was unChristian, that he put the church on shaky moral ground, and that he would be red unless he agreed to never speak with Meghan again.

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Saul Kiplinger was enraged when he found out, and he forbade his daughter from communicating with Alex as well. She told him that he could go to hell, which then began a father-daughter feud that would result in Meghan moving out of the family home. She secured a job as a bank teller, because Daddy was no longer going to bankroll his daughters fourth and nal year of college. Alex became convinced the only reason he had not been red throughout the ensuing asco was because Saul and Mary still faithfully attended church, and continued to put their money in the plate. That, and that he had actually followed through with not speaking with Meghan. He hated himself for it, because it made him feel like a small, helpless, chastised child. But he feared he would feel smaller still, if his father ever found out that he had been red from doing Gods work. So, like most difcult decisions in his life, he chose the way of the coward. He changed banks however, so that he could see Meghan from time-to-time, although they rarely made eye contact. But now, when he had called out in his moment of weakness, she had consented to meet with him. He wondered why, shivering with eagerness as she came into view. Are you crazy? she shouted with excitement, trying to elude the rain as she slid into the passengers seat of the Jeep. You know youll lose your job if we get caught! Alex found himself admiring the rising and falling of her chest, as she tried to catch her breath. Yeah, I dont really care anymore. I kinda wished you wouldnt have cared two years ago. A lot of time has passed. Yeah, I made a mistake, he was speaking smoothly now, with the same sincerity he would have used to deliver a meaningful sermon to the congregation. I should have never chosen my job at the church over you. She looked out the rain swept window, saying nothing for a time, as an awkward silence lled the car. You know, he said, trying to break the ice, you are as beautiful as ever. Her legs were so ne. I thought you would do it, you know... she stammered. A wave of dread swept over him as she began to well up in tears. This was a stupid, stupid mistake. He was regretting it already. I thought you were my white knight, the one who would sweep me off my feet. I thought that when I pushed away my father, that you would leave the church, and we would move away from here together.

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You left your parents house? I thought they kicked you out. ...A stupid, stupid mistake. No, she sniffed. I left on my own. I thought you were afraid of Daddy... and that if I pushed him away, then youd come after me, and wed get out of here. Her makeup was beginning to run, and in a moment of guilt, he began to convince himself that perhaps she was not so beautiful after all. Think, dammit. Think! Think of something nice to say. What if I said, that I would leave the church and be with you now? Did that really just come out of his mouth? I dont think so, Alex. Its too late. We dont know each other anymore. Ive changed; changed a lot, she was sounding stronger now. You know, in a horrible way you gave me a wonderful gift. Oh yeah? How was that? This should be good... When I was at Mummy and Daddys house, I wasnt living in reality. They gave me everything. I spent three years in college barely scraping by with my grades while partying my brains out. A few weeks before I left college to come home, a scary thing happened to me. I didnt tell you because I was ashamed. Meghan had now fully recovered and began wiping the mascara from her cheeks with a tissue. Alex was cringing inwardly. Why God? Why? My friends and I would always hit the frat party circuit. You know, we were the it girls. We prided ourselves in being desirable because we would look and act the part, but would never follow through. We were nothing but a tease. And? And one night, while quite drunk, I became separated from my friends, and became the victim of non-consensual sex. Breathe deeply old boy. You were raped? I am so sorry. He was wilting. Yes. And the violation of that moment remains with me. I still have nightmares. Alex brought the Jeep to a stop in the restaurant parking lot, blankly lost in the rhythm of the windshield wipers. Why are you telling me this now? Because I have changed, and you havent. Youre the same old dashing Alex Putnam, looking for a good time. I recognize it in the way that you look at me. There are many men who appreciate my packaging, because that is all they see. But Ive changed Alex, on the inside.

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Two years ago I would have taken a chance with you, she put her hand over his, and attempted to hold his eyes with hers. He looked away. Alex, I was wrong to expect that you would charge in on your white horse and rescue me. When I left my parents house, I took a chance, and it didnt pay off the way I thought it would. I thought I would get you, but instead, I got something even greater. From bad... to worse... please just let it be over. And what was that? An appreciation for reality. You were a fantasy. A hopeful dream that I thought would wash away my pain. But now my reality is to wake up early each morning, to work hard to pay for my rent, while saving a little each paycheck so that I can nish up college to become a teacher. I once was a spoiled brat, and I paid the price. Now Im just scraping by, but you know what? Its keeping me honest. And youre telling me this because? he waited for the punch line. Meghan took a deep breath, and then said tenderly, I am nothing but a fantasy to you Alex Putnam. To be with you would only hurt us both. What you need is a healthy dose of reality.

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Chapter 6 S
hortly after two oclock on Saturday morning, Jack Grimsby and his team silently broke into Camden Heights First United Congregational Church. Agents ried through Bibles and hymnals, searched desks, and scanned duct work and toilet tanks. Nothing out of the ordinary was found. The Duke had presumed that Talbott had hidden something of importance here, which he believed would be retrieved at a later time. With only eight agents scouring the building, time was getting tight. So Grimsby made a judgment call to get his team out of the building before 5AM. The stuffed animals in the nursery would be pressure searched, but would otherwise remain unmolested, and the ofce computers would not be accessed. Hidden deep on the hard drive of Pastor Alex Putnam IIIs laptop computer, was a le folder entitled Greybeard. Within that folder contained an audio le, which would have been the only tangible proof of the old mans presence. ***** A sense of defeat came over Alex after his meeting with Meghan. They never did end up having dinner together. He dropped her off at her car at the bank where they said their goodbyes, and he summarily went home to bed. He woke up in a dizzy haze once during Saturday afternoon, when he thought he heard someone knocking quietly on his back door, but he drifted off until he awoke Sunday morning, without feeling refreshed. The church services were unremarkable. Patricia, the self-approving female associate pastor led the prayers and announcements. Trent, the talent-heavy worship leader, led the professional-sounding worship ensemble in rousing and emotional choruses. Old Mrs. Evelyn Pierce shouted Hallelujah! for the whole church to hear. Rose Parsons, an elderly woman who always sat in the front pew, shook her head from side to side, eyes clenched, muttering Come Lord Jesus... oh come Lord Jesus... And Randall, the ever-banal senior pastor, gave one of his always-practical sermons on killing others with kindness. That Alex had heard the same teaching a few years before was not surprising. Randall would often dig into the ling cabinet when he was too busy to prepare something new. The church was a well-oiled machine, designed around three identical services which could shufe as many people in and out within a three hour period. Sundays were tough, energy-depleting days for the ministers, with much cheerful banter, small talk, and glad-handing to be done.

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But it was all paying off. Even in these tough economic times, the church was growing. The parking lot was going to be paved in the spring, with lines painted too; all of which would increase capacity and aid in trafc-ow. A fourth service was being considered. Everyone was happy. They belonged to a big successful church that was gaining quite a reputation for itself. Still, Alex was unhappy. The highs he had felt in being part of the celebrity team which led the growing church had been waning for some time. Increasingly, he was nding himself becoming more and more critical of both himself, and of the other church leadership. Who was he, to come off so high and mighty to these Christian peasants? It was becoming increasingly obvious that he found greater contentment in the ladies of his virtual harem, than in the God he was teaching others to worship. It was a reality which disgusted him. Monday was his day off. It rained. He dozed in and out of sleep, intrigued by subconscious thoughts of what would become of him as Friday neared. He woke up around noon and cancelled his home internet service, and considered subscribing to the cable companys risqu channel, as a substitute. To hell with it. Greybeard would nd out about that too. He went back to bed. He was in a dull, listless mood, and it would be a dull, rainy week, in a dull harsh world, until Friday rolled around. Was he actually beginning to look forward to his next meeting with Greybeard? ***** It was 3:55 PM and Alex was watching the clock closely, much as he had been doing the same time the week before. Last week he was waiting to break free of the ofce; this week he was anxiously waiting for that looney old man, Greybeard. The parking lot was still empty at 4PM, and Alex was reluctant to leave the church. He wondered how long he should wait. At ten minutes after four, the phone rang. Camden Heights First United Congregational Church. He said it like a telemarketing pro, making the word church almost sound musical. Alexander, its me, the heavily accented voice was unmistakeable. I will be unable to make our scheduled appointment today. But I would be very grateful if you would run an errand for an old aunt of mine living in town. Excuse me?!

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Yes, she is a shut-in, on the west side of town, and has run out of bread and milk. I was going to bring her groceries after our meeting today, but because I have been detained, I would be most appreciative if you would help her out. Here is the address. Listen, I... 25 Everett Street, apartment G. Tell her you are running an errand for Nicodemus. Ill pay you back when we next meet. Alex was t to be tied. He wanted to get in a word. I dont... You dont need to worry! Thank you Alexander... and please do not forget your Bible. Click! The swearing owed out of his mouth before he became conscious that the vulgarities had been uttered for all the church to hear. He poked his head out the door and looked up and down the hallway. He was alone. Taking a deep breath, he jammed his Bible into his laptop case, grabbed his coat, and went out into the cool fall afternoon. Driving from the convenience store to the west side of Camden Heights, Alex found himself checking the rearview mirror, watching for headlights that would round the same corners as his vehicle. He began ducking down side streets, slowly making his way to the address that he had scrawled on a scrap piece of paper. He sensed the old feelings of paranoia were working their way back into him. He drove his car half a block past the address, slung his computer case over his shoulder, and carried the sack of groceries to a white, run down looking tenement house. Finding apartment G, he knocked on the door, believing that God was happy that he was doing his good deed for the week. Hello! he called out. I have groceries here from Nicodemus. He heard the scraping of a chair on the oor, and some slow footfalls which caused a faint creaking in the oorboards. The doors open. Just bring them inside, and set them on the table, came a decrepit voice with a thick British accent. He pushed open the door into a warm, dimly lit room with well worn area rugs on the oor. The paneling on the walls and the furniture spoke of a previous era, but the place was neat as a pin. He followed the direction of the light, and came to the kitchen, where he set down the bag of groceries. Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he placed the receipt next to the items.

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Okay, he shouted. Its all here. God bless you maam. It felt good to have Gods work completed. He was about to open the door, when a voice spoke from a dark corner of the living room. Alexander. Just sit down and stay awhile. Weve much to talk about. It was Greybeard. The last time we met I was followed, and I cant risk that happening again. Whatever you say, Nicodemus, the young pastor said as he moved closer to the voice, while removing his laptop from the case. He sat in a chair facing the old man and initiated the audio recording program while simultaneously opening his word processor. Tell me, why do you want to be called Nicodemus? I will tell you in short order. But rst, put away the computer, said Nicodemus with a tired voice. You will not be needing it here. On the contrary. You asked for everything we discussed to be written down. I am simply going to type as you talk. See? Alex turned the screen toward the old man to show him that the word processing program was open, and ready to go. The audio recording, though forbidden by the old man, would be his insurance against blackmail of any kind. Ill consent to that, but only if you will encrypt the le each time we are nished. Nicodemus was in no condition to argue. His skin was a morbid grey color, and he was perspiring profusely. Ill use the strongest encryption I have, Alex agreed. Are you alright? You dont look well. Im not well, the older man said slowly. The corrupt cells in my body are ghting a war against my immune system. The corruption is winning. I fear I only have a little more time to make everything right. How much time? the pastor wondered. You let me do the talking and the asking and answering of questions and our times together will go much more quickly. You are to call me Nicodemus because that is who I am. You brought the Bible, yes? I did. It is right here. Alex handed the book to Talbott, who ipped some pages. The old man held the volume high in the air. I need you to consider something about this Bible, Alexander. Is it possible that you have been brainwashed concerning the purpose of the Book?

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Putnam III stared at the quivering hand holding the Bible, wondering where this was going. No, I dont believe I have been brainwashed. What youre holding in your hand is the infallible Word of God. I believe every word in it to be Truth. Ah! the re had come back into Nicodemus eyes. Yes, very well. But do you know what the Book says? Of course I do. I may be young and unimpressive to you, but I hold two degrees in theology! Alex became painfully aware that his erce defensiveness had uncovered his pride. He was now laid bare before the old man, and he awaited his scolding. None came. Instead, Nicodemus eyes smiled at him. So you know the Book, because you have learned the Book. The Book is your instrument of proof, to prove to the world that you are right and that they are wrong. All this tells me is that you do not truly know this Book. Your rst lesson... the rst thing you must write down, is that this Book is Life. You make people hate true life when you use the Book to prove your point. This Book has no use for your ego, he waved the Bible in the air, then brought it to his lap. Here, I will show you what I mean. You know John 3:16, right? Every Christian uses this verse of the Bible to prove that they have eternal life because of Jesus. Alex began typing away, impatient with the rabbit trails. When you use the Book of Life to prove, you end up killing instead. People begin to despise the Book, because it is being used by you, to prove to them, that you are going to heaven and that they are going to hell. And you know what you have made them feel in their hearts? They are telling you to go to hell. Ironic isnt it? Nicodemus chuckled. Theyre telling you to go to hell because they know that you are playing childish religious games with them. Alex stopped typing for a moment. This was going nowhere. Ah! You are confused. You know what that tells me. You have been brainwashed. Now we will set the record straight. Never use spiritual life to bring spiritual death. It is an abomination to the Creator. Now I will unravel your brainwashing. Look at the context of John 3:16. Jesus is speaking to me: Nicodemus. I will read to you from the beginning of the chapter to show you where your thinking has been intentionally confused.
Nicodemus was a Pharisee and a member of the Jewish council. He came to Jesus one night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that God has sent you as a teacher. No one can perform the miracles you perform unless God is with him."

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Jesus replied to Nicodemus, "I can guarantee this truth: No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." Nicodemus asked him, "How can anyone be born when he's an old man? He can't go back inside his mother a second time to be born, can he?" Jesus answered Nicodemus, "I can guarantee this truth: No one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. Flesh and blood give birth to esh and blood, but the Spirit gives birth to things that are spiritual. Don't be surprised when I tell you that all of you must be born from above. The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you don't know where the wind comes from or where it's going. That's the way it is with everyone born of the Spirit." Nicodemus replied, "How can that be?" Jesus told Nicodemus, "You're a well-known teacher of Israel. Can't you understand this? I can guarantee this truth: We know what we're talking about, and we conrm what we've seen. Yet, you don't accept our message. If you don't believe me when I tell you about things on earth, how will you believe me when I tell you about things in heaven? No one has gone to heaven except the Son of Man, who came from heaven. "As Moses lifted up the snake on a pole in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up. Then everyone who believes in him will have eternal life." God loved the world this way: He gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him will not die but will have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save the world. Those who believe in him won't be condemned. But those who don't believe are already condemned because they don't believe in God's only Son. This is why people are condemned: The light came into the world. Yet, people loved the dark rather than the light because their actions were evil. People who do what is wrong hate the light and don't come to the light. They don't want their actions to be exposed. But people who do what is true come to the light so that the things they do for God may be clearly seen.

Alex felt the sting of the nal words. Was this where Nicodemus was going to expose him as a hypocrite of the highest order? He was relieved when the old man took things in another direction. Who is Nicodemus? questioned the old man excitedly. Apparently, you are. Who was this senile fool to be quoting chapter and verse to him? No, he is a Pharisee, his eyes twinkled. And what is a Pharisee? Alex sighed. This was worse than seminary. He answered: A religious expert of the day, who was revered by Jewish society. Ah-ha! You are right. He knew better than everyone else because he was an Enlightened One... an Illumined One; just like you, when you use the words of the Book of Life to bring death to others. But what does Jesus tell Nicodemus that he must do?

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He said he had to be born again. What was this guy? A batty, old Sunday school teacher? Yes... but what does that mean? Alex took his time answering. He knew through his studies, that there were several possible answers for this question. Finally he decided to avoid possible humiliation, and remained silent. This is a tougher one, isnt it, young man. It means that you cannot see the Kingdom of God by being an Enlightened or Illumined One. For in the Garden of Eden were two trees: the Tree of Life, and the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The Serpentine One tempted the humans to eat of the Tree of Knowledge and their eyes were opened. They were enlightened and illumined; and their nature became bent against Gods nature. To be born again, is to go back to rst principles. It is to forsake being an Enlightened or Illumined One, to deliberately choose to eat from the Tree of Life. You need to write this down. Alex began typing as quickly as he could, as the old man ipped through the Bible. There... you see this? You see the Apostle Paul knew the nature of the Serpentine One. Hear what he says:
And no wonder, even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.

Now tell me the original name of Satan. Alexs frustration boiled over. Enough of the rhetorical questions! I cant think, answer, and type. Just talk and let me type. But of course. It is Lucifer: the morning star; the Light Bearer. Do you know what the Illumined Ones think? They believe that Lucifer is the creative energy of the universe, and that we must channel our energies into enlightenment so that we too, will ascend to become as gods ourselves. You are to call me Nicodemus because I was an Enlightened One. The Messiah told Nicodemus the straight goods. He told him, not to pursue enlightenment, but to pursue renaissance, which in French means, re-birth. If we will ever see the Kingdom of God, we must reject the brainwashing enlightenment that is force-fed to us by the Illumined Ones, so that we may be reborn into the Ancient Ways of Yahweh, the true Creator.

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I was an Illumined One... the Illuminati. But I have now rejected all of the powers of my enlightenment, and have chosen to be reborn into the Ancient Ways. Alex stopped his typing, and gazed for a long time at the words on his screen. In his heart, he was sensing a deeper truth, but his mind was unable to grapple with it. It was a troubling stalemate between his heart and his head. As if reading his mind, Nicodemus continued. Lets look at a practical application shall we? What are your impressions of todays western youth, Mr. Putnam? Generally speaking, I think they are lazy, undisciplined, spoiled, and bored. Excellent analysis! And do you know why? Because an Illumined One wrote a book which brainwashed people into thinking they needed to coddle their children, be everconcerned with their feelings, and to give them license to choose their own life. Then we provided them with schools, music, television, and internet to re-order their belief structure. Meanwhile, another Illumined One was assigned to create an environment that would undermine parents, and other established authorities. But, he was now gesturing excitedly, the Book of Life says that to spare the rod is to spoil the child; that although children should not be provoked to anger, they need swift, strict discipline, because this is the proven ancient path of the Great One, himself. And so, how did western society respond to these two conicting views? They chose to abandon the Tree of Life, choosing instead to embrace the Tree of Knowledge, given to them by the Illumined Ones. Instead of being born again, into the eternal, life-giving principles of the Creator, they embraced the enlightenment of the Illumined Ones. What you dont understand, Alexander, is that the Illumined Ones, or the Illuminati, control the affairs of the world. I was an Illuminati for over fty years, and I, with my other enlightened brothers put a plan in place that will not only destroy the United States, but will also enslave the world. You are to call me Nicodemus, he concluded. I once was enlightened, but I have now become evils turncoat, and I am counting on you to write down my story before I die. Alex stopped typing, scrutinizing the old mans weathered face, wondering if he could possibly be legit. It was really just too fantastical. Suddenly there was a loud click, and the lights went out. Something hit him from behind and held him to the oor. A pillow case was pulled roughly over his head, while his hands and feet were bound. He thought he heard Nicodemus crying out something. All was silence, except for his exerted attempts to break free of his bonds, and the sound of his ragged breathing.

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Chapter 7 A
lex strained his muscles against the ropes, and felt the burn. He was a strong, wellbuilt man, who spent regular gym time developing a physique, worthy of his position in the community. Held, face down to the oor, he could not budge a limb, as it seemed that at least six strong hands were holding him down. He heard a terse whisper. Back door in 10 seconds! He was then horizontally carried like a battering ram, into the night cold, where he was eased, face rst onto the frigid steel oor of a vehicle. The van moved slowly forward, without roaring its motor or spinning its wheels. The immediate shock of what had transpired within the last 30 seconds was wearing off, and Alex felt himself begin to tighten up in fear. The closeness of the cotton bag on his head, and the dampness of his breath against it; the chang constriction of the ropes, cutting into his wrists and ankles; and the difculty he felt in acquiring his breath while conned to a prone position were ramping up his innate weakness for claustrophobia. He screamed, and thrashed about wildly, overcome by a wave of panic. Two sets of hands now held him securely in place so that all he could do was turn his head from one side to the other, and to grimace with each bump in the road. That he had been kidnapped, was now a painful realization. As to the reason, he had no idea. His mind raced, searching out possibilities. Then it came to him, clear as a bell. They were going to try to get ransom money from Putnam II. Restrained to the oor of the silent van, jostled by bump after bump, Alex began to wonder if his father would actually pay up. Probably not, he thought. He would say something about never negotiating with terrorists, and would be glad that the memory of his frustrating-shame-of-a-boy, was erased by such a tragic event. Tragedy played well in the newspapers. Imagine all of the sympathy attention he would gain. Attention and publicity were good for business! His mind wandered through the past, wondering where the fracture in his relationship with his father had actually taken place. That his father had been broken somewhere in his own past, he was sure. Was it simply that their personalities clashed? Or that his father had chosen to be fullled by his work and secretaries, rather than the family he had rarely noticed. Alex remembered the look on Putnam IIs face when he told him he was going into the ministry. He saw disgust and shame. But was he ashamed of himself as a father, or of the choices his boy was making? Nonetheless, this group had tackled the wrong man if they thought Putnam II would pay them one red cent.

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He began to consider another possibility. What if Nicodemus was telling the truth, and he was the Illuminati? Would he be used as a pawn to manipulate his fathers political lobbying business? Or perhaps he was going to end up being the sacrice in an occult ritual? He had read that such things occurred in secret societies. Fiercely, he cried out and struggled again to break free. Two bodies immediately fell down upon him holding him close to the oor. It was becoming increasingly difcult to breathe. The prick of a needle entered his shoulder, and soon after, he began to relax... until he faded away. ***** The Duke and Jack Grimsby stood, puzzled, over the kitchen table of the Everett Street apartment house. Agents were silently processing the scene, and again, they had turned up nothing; except a receipt sitting next to a loaf of bread and a plastic jug of stillcold milk. We lost Talbott coming out of D.C. Grimsby explained, and it took some time to track him here using the transmitter we fastened to his car at a stoplight in the city. This is the fth transmitter weve put on his vehicle. Somehow, hes nding them. When we nally arrived, his car was here, but he was gone. Some neighbors heard a ruckus out the back door. Were doing a perimeter search, afxing a better-hidden transmitter to his car, and will have a man stationed here in case he comes back. Were back-tracking the transmitter log to see if he stopped for groceries at the store listed on the receipt, but it is unlikely. Its too far out of the way, and there was no time. The Duke was irritated. He began pacing the oor while barking out orders. Keep a low prole, as we dont want to arouse suspicion with the neighbors. Bug this place will you? He may want to rendezvous here again with whomever he is meeting in Camden Heights. This is the second time in a week hes driven out here. What is happening with the microphones you planted at the D.C. house? he asked brusquely. Theyre all still dead. Weve been trying to get back into the house, but weve been unable to disarm the alarm system. And, it seems hes suddenly hired on a whole staff of new people, Grimsby revealed. What?!! Why wasnt I informed of this? the senior agent fumed. Because we didnt know for sure until yesterday, Grimsby responded, trying to remain cool. He didnt like his competency being questioned. To take the edge off, he added, Even then, we are still just making a guess. The Duke lit up a cigarette. Six months ago, he red all of his house staff. Now he hires on new staff. What the hell is going on? Did you interview all of the old staff?

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Yes... that brieng came out a while ago. Nothing out of the ordinary came of it. They said the old man returned from a rehab vacation and that he had changed. He apologized, paid them each a nice severance, and they were all out of there on the same day. The putrid smoke was now beginning to ll up the room around them. How did they say he changed? Grimsby shrugged. They were all Mexicans, so what they said didnt make a whole lot of sense to me. They said he was cleaner. At this, the Duke smiled. And does he have another crew of Mexicans in with him now? Just white guys, actually. Quiet, polite, white guys. We jostled who we think was the new cook up at the grocery store by accident, to plant a transmitter. He just apologized like it was his fault, and moved along. The microphone never made it into the house. That whole crew stays well out of sight, if theyre in there, like we think. We havent caught many of them coming or going. The Duke inhaled the glorious smoke, releasing it from his nostrils. What makes you think there are a group of them? Are you getting anything out of the parabolic microphones? Nothing but chatter from the neighbors, and that is where we have drawn most of our conclusions. From our best guess, there are six new faces inside. He has found a way to block the reach of the microphones on the east side of the house where he has his ofce and library. I dont know how he is doing it, but all we are getting is static. Infared is picking up occasional movement along the fenced perimeter, and occasionally through a window, but again, we are being blocked from accessing the house. You know what this is Grimsby? his voice was lled with satisfaction. This, is an admission of guilt. It seems our Mr. Talbott has hired a group of professionals. He slid the receipt off the table, studying it in the light. Take this receipt to the store, and nd out who made the purchase. A store on the other side of this town would never deliver groceries over here. Grimsby bit his tongue. He was going to break his rule again as he asked the question that had been burning in his mind for several weeks now. If Talbott is guilty of terrorism, why dont we just snatch him? Hes in plenty of vulnerable positions several times throughout the week here in D.C. and in New York City? The Duke sneered sardonically as he replied. George Talbott is only under suspicion of terrorist activities against the state. He is not guilty... yet. This is the reason we do police work. So that we can build a case, and put the bad men in jail. He turned on his heel and walked down the hallway. Find who bought the groceries! he shouted angrily.

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Agent Grimsby was beginning to hate his job. He packed up the bread and milk and headed across town to the convenience store. Flashing his badge at the clerk, he found out that she had been on duty for the past 6 hours, and that yes, a man who she had recognized had been in the store more than an hour earlier to make the purchase. Yes, I know that man, said the overweight girl excitedly. Her eyes lit up through too much mascara and she raised her chin, speaking as if she had single-handedly solved the case. I usually see him come in here at lunchtime, where he always buys one of those prepackaged sandwiches. So when he bought that stuff, she indicated the sack on the counter, it stuck out in my mind, you know? Is he in any kind of trouble? I mean, she lowered her voice, did he do something wrong? Hes a very kind man; not the kind youd expect to be a criminal. Hes a man of God. Agent Grimsby was taken by surprise. Maam, what do you mean by that? Why, she spoke dramatically, hes one of those pastors from that big church around the corner. His name is... Alex... Alex something. You drive around to the church, and youll see his name. Its the last one listed on the sign out front. Thank you maam, you have been a big help. And just for your interest sake maam, this man has done absolutely nothing wrong. Were just concerned for his safety. Jack Grimsby continued to smooth waters which could be troubled. For the sake of his safety, maam, I would appreciate if you would not mention my being here, to anyone. But if he should stop in here again, please do give me a call, he handed her a business card. We really must be discrete in order to keep this man safe. Yes sir, she winked. We will keep it our little secret. She would talk. They all did. He just hoped she wouldnt talk with The Duke.

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Chapter 8 A
lex awoke in a large, book-lined room with the dancing of relight interrupting the darkness. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to clear the fog from his head. Seated in a plush leather chair he could feel the warmth of the ames in the replace before him. He relaxed his muscles, and subconsciously began to rub his chafed wrists. I must apologize to you Alexander for my bad manners. We would have taken other measures if it was not life or death, if you know what I mean. It was coming back to him now. That was Greybeard... rather, Nicodemus voice. What happened? And where am I, he asked groggily. You are safe. That is all that matters. You will notice that all of the blinds are drawn. For your safety, I ask that you will keep away from the windows, and that you will remain in this study at all times during your stay here. There is a lavatory through that door over there, he pointed between two towering bookshelves. The cook is preparing us some supper. Why... why is it you have kidnapped me? the young pastor rested his heavy head in his hands. Bah! Nicodemus blurted out. We didnt kidnap you. We saved you from being recognized. Youre going to have to be patient with all this minutia, until I have the time to create the bigger picture for you. Minutia, my ass, Alex thought. You knocked me down, tied me up, and drugged me. This was not minutia. This was kidnapping. So what do you want? You know my father isnt going to pay you a nickel. You dont think so, do you? the old man was smiling. I think you are right. Your father is a wicked bastard, and I too, highly doubt he would ransom you. So why am I here? he could feel the quickening heat of temper rising into his aching head. Alexander, the aged voice said his name kindly, as would a loving grandfather. I have at least ve thousand times the wealth of your father. You arent here to help us steal money. No, you are here because you have a gift, and I need you to use your gift to warn others about the days ahead. Back to saving the world again, is it? I nd this all, very difcult to believe. Who brought me here? Alex redirected his questioning.

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It is of no matter, the old man waved his hand. Lets not concern ourselves with details. We dont have much time. Who brought me here? he repeated rmly. His rage was becoming uncontainable and his body was beginning to shake. Monk and his boys did, Nicodemus relented. They are, how shall we say, my guardians. And who is Monk? he asked, now gripping the arms of the chair. Nicodemus smiled broadly. Why he is just that, a monk. You will get to know him later. Come, he gestured, as he rose out of the chair awkwardly, we will eat now. Youll feel better with a good meal in you. Alexs rst attempt to rise failed him, and he slid back into the chair. Then, he felt a rm grasp on his arm, and looked up to see a stocky bald man dressed in a brown monks habit, pulling him onto his feet. Are you Monk? he stuttered unbelievingly, as the agile cleric balanced the pastor to a massive table placed in the center of the room. The hulking man did not reply. He seated Alex, spread a napkin on his lap, and fussed over the table, uncovering the steaming plates of food. That, said Nicodemus, when the monk departed, is not Monk. He is Chef. You must understand, they are all monks. As per their instructions, they remain nameless monks. As per my instructions, they are to be invisible monks. But you will get a chance to speak with Monk, for he is the chief among them, and he is very anxious to meet with you. Everything was happening too quickly. On the one hand, everything Nicodemus had told him made sense. On the other hand, his ever-present paranoid-self was completely convinced that he was at the center of a con-job; one that could likely cost him his life. The surreal nature of the events of the past week prohibited sane reasoning; something which, at that present moment, he would have found comforting. Incapable of grasping with all the variables in play, and knowing he was essentially being held captive, he gave up. Anxiety would do nothing to improve his current position, so he may as well make the best of it. He may as well eat. Alex picked up a fork and was about to begin eating when the old man swiftly lifted his hand. Wait! he barked. Then he added in a warmer tone, First we must give thanks and bless the food. Nicodemus bowed his head and Alex followed suit. For nearly a minute, there was silence, except for a mufed whispering, whistling through the old mans grey beard. Let it be so, Nicodemus raised a glass of red wine toward his guest.

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Ummm... Let it be so, I think... Alex hesitated, unknowing of what had been prayed. There was no way of guessing, so what the hell; he raised his glass, then took a long pull. Camden Heights First United Congregational Church was going to have to give him some slack regarding the alcohol pledge he had signed. Anyone who had been through what he had experienced in the past few hours was deserving of a little booze. Dinner was punctuated by uncomfortable silence. Nicodemus, whos normal pattern had been to direct the conversation was thoroughly engrossed in his meal, and seemed completely disinterested in the the younger mans presence. And while the magnicent quality of the food was not lost on Alex, he was having troubles enjoying it, as he was fairly convinced that this was going to be his nal meal. On several occasions, he caught himself pushing the food around his plate, as he attempted, as best as he could, to calm his gnawing fears. He had to think now. What did he know? And how could he use this knowledge to gain advantage in an attempt to escape? Nicodemus was not a physical threat in his feeble state, and could be easily overpowered. The merry band of monks on the other hand, well, that was a different issue altogether. Chef had practically lifted and dragged all of Alexs two hundred pounds to the table with one hand. Still, all he had seen thus far was one monk. Nicodemus had spoken of several monks and their apparent invisibility. Perhaps it was a ruse to make him feel as though he were more trapped than he really was. Dishes were being cleared from the table, and coffee and brandy were being served, when Alex decided to do a little reconnaissance. Excusing himself from the table, he slowly moved in the direction where the bathroom was supposed to be. His aching head, along with the effects of the wine he had consumed at supper, and the ickering darkness of the room conspired against his desire to search for possible exits. There! What was that? Did he just see a shadow beside the towering, twenty-foot-tall window curtain, move? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or were there more of those strapping monks nearby. He strained his ears, trying to further assess what he was up against. He heard nothing, but the crackling of the re, and the hushed tones of Nicodemus giving instructions to Chef. At the opening between two massive built-in book cases, Alex pushed through a heavy door, constructed of solid oak panels, clicking it shut behind him. He fumbled in the blackness for a light switch, and blinded himself upon nding it. Once his eyes adjusted to the white-tiled room, he went to a tall pedestal sink, and splashed water on his face, hoping it would clear the fog from his mind. As he dried his hands, he surveyed himself in the expansive mirror. He looked sickly. Pale cheeks and the scruff of a ve oclock shadow threatened to weaken the prole of his strong jawline, while the usual spark of steel-blue eyes was dulled by the ever-widening half moons of darkness below them. The sedative which knocked him out in the van, and the claustrophobic tightening of unresolved stress were

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taking a toll. Alex ran his ngers through his hair, in a failed attempt to create order, then returned to his place at the table, where Nicodemus was sipping brandy. The pastor was defeated. He was convinced that he was not going the leave the room alive. Why do you look at the girls? the old man inquired curiously. Do you even know why? Chastened, Alex shook his head, and then took up the snifter before him and drank down the smooth brown liquid in one gulp. He winced while he spoke, Listen, Nicodemus. You just need to do what you need to do, okay? If you arent going to kill me, I want you to take me home. Im not really in the mood to talk about how youve managed to pry yourself into my personal life, only to go all psychobabble on me. As he spoke, the anger again began to rise again, and some primitive instinct within compelled him to lunge at the old man, arms extended, ready to choke the life from him. An invisible wall seemed to arrest him mid-ight, as he felt the horrible pressure of an enormous hand tightly grasping his throat, smothering him. The darkness was beginning to close in, when through his tear-lled eyes, he saw Nicodemus motion with a hand. He inhaled deeply between coughing and choking, as the pressure released. But his shoulders remained rmly clenched. Its okay! a decrepit, gnarled hand waved again, you can let him go. Alex felt the grip slowly release. When he turned his head to see what kind of monster had apprehended him, he caught the familiar brown color of a monks habit, as it receded into the shadows. Sighing tiredly, Nicodemus spoke, Youre becoming difcult, young man. It is apparent that you have trust issues. These need to be resolved, because time is very short. If it is something which cannot be straightened out immediately, you will be brought back to your home, where your car has already been returned to your driveway. I am afraid, however, you will lose these few hours of memories through a safe, but effective, drug. As to our previous meeting at the church, that will be left as a vague memory of an awkward meeting with an old man that you will never see again. Lets get something very clear: you are not here to be ransomed, and I am not going to kill you. Your presence is required because the Great One has suggested to Monk that you possess the right stuff, shall we say, when it comes to the difcult task ahead. And who, exactly, is the Great One, youre speaking about? Alex scoffed sourly. Nicodemus paused for a moment, shutting his eyes, while folding his hands in front of his mouth. The same God you presume to worship, of course. Yahweh: the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Opening his eyes, he gazed wistfully into the younger mans face and asked, What will it take to get you to believe that this is so?

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There was no hesitation is Alexs response, I want to meet Monk. The leader of these brown-robed neanderthals. From behind the tall, wall-to-ceiling curtains, there came a rumble of a voice out of the darkness: Then lets have the meeting! But be assured, Alexander, after we meet, you will view the world differently; you will be changed. A gure began to emerge into the dim, ickering relight as the voice continued to speak, And please make a deliberate note: this will be the only time, that I will permit you to call the shots.

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Chapter 9 A
gent Jack Grimsby was worried. There were too many things about the Talbott case that were not adding up; including his latest discovery that suggested the possible involvement of a popular Camden Heights pastor. Months before, a similar uncertainty had nagged at him; but his doubts had faded over time, as The Duke kept him constantly busy. Too many facts of the case were circumstantial; hearsay evidence, readily offered up by The Duke that promised a paper trail which never materialized. Was the investigation beginning to take on the avor of an agent who held a personal grudge against an innocent enemy? Once, in the not too distant past, Grimsby had been assigned to pick up the pieces of a case that went sideways like that. It wasnt pretty. Unacceptably, the Agency had chosen to quietly sweep the mess under the carpet, rather than cleaning house. That justice had not been served had shaken him deeply. Increasingly, the Agency and the dozen federal bureaus like it seemed to be relying upon obscure directives from the top, rather than following the dependable mechanics of good police work, in transparent collaboration with the judicial system. For agents like Grimsby who had been taught to do things by the book this recent trend was disconcerting to say the least. But it was only one of several shifts in the Bureau that made him wonder if he would last long enough to collect a pension. Sixteen years earlier, when Jack had rst joined the force, recruiters had singled out three different hiring-prospects for the job: women and minorities; physically t intellectuals with people skills; and specialists, usually with unique computer, weapons, or language skills. But now, the new poster children for the Agency seemed to be thickskulled brutes who relished the prospect of armed conict. The Duke had raved about such operatives, praising their ability to quickly achieve the pragmatic objectives of the Bureau. Also troubling to Grimsby, was the recent emphasis on militarizing the Agency into a domestic combat unit. The irony that SWAT teams, armed with masks and military weapons were increasingly being used against American citizens in the name of apprehending domestic terrorists which never surfaced, was not lost on the agent. That it was likely a violation of the Constitution of the United States, he suspected. That it was a violation of his own moral code, he knew. And now, while The Duke was away at a late, Friday night, inter-agency brieng, an anxious surge of energy owed through Grimsby, as he grappled with the reality that he may be running out of time to get this one right. Behind the closed door of his small,

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fth oor D.C. ofce, Jack began sorting through the George Talbott le, stacking relevant pages into neat piles on his tidy desk. He was suspicious that a man of Talbotts wealth and inuence was being investigated in the rst place. The agent knew from experience that men who were at the very top were untouchable. There simply were no exceptions to this rule. Unless there was somebody even further up the food chain who wanted them destroyed. Grimsby reviewed facts he had already committed to memory, one more time: George Talbott was the 14th richest man in the world. He had emigrated from Britain where he had inherited a small fortune to the United States where there seemed to be greater business opportunities. There were now only a half-dozen American families whose wealth preceded his, and the Talbott Foundation was among the most generous around the globe. George had been married ve times, which created three off-spring, who along with their divorced moms took a big payoff to contractually break their family association with the old man once and for all. For the past twelve years, Talbott had been a loner, except for the occasional rendezvous with high-class call girls. For all the failures found in his family life, there were far more successes when it came to his global inuence. His clout on the authoritative Council of Foreign Relations, and the Trilateral Commission was well known among Washington bureaucrats. Internationally, he was a frequent Tier 1 attendee of the Bilderberg Group, the super secret corporate equivalent of the United Nations, where he was also a regular xture. The man was an American icon for success. Then, almost one year ago, Talbott disappeared for six months. The fact that there was absolutely no record of his whereabouts during that time was what was turning the Bureau inside out. Sure, the Agency had breathed a sigh of relief when he had resurfaced. But that had been short-lived, as George Talbott had released only cursory information about his burnout re-hab which could not be formally substantiated. Since then, the beehive of activity had only intensied at the Bureau, including what seemed to be trumped-up charges of money-laundering. Sifting through the les for the twentieth time, he still found no evidence to support the allegations that Talbott was involved in a cleaning-and-clearing scheme which siphoned Arab-American money through his foundation to Mid-Eastern operatives with connections to Hezbollah. It was a ludicrous indictment, actually. Why would a man of Talbotts means, launder money? The man had more than enough off-shore accounts to write checks from which would have completely evaded all law enforcement were he to believe so strongly in the cause. No, Jack thought, this was an incomplete picture. The Duke, he was certain, knew more than he was letting on. It was obvious that it had something to do with George Talbotts missing six months. But what could be so damning about an uber-rich captain

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of industrys desire for privacy while recovering from burnout? Did he have a complete mental-emotional breakdown? Piling the thick les to one side of his desk, he opened a drawer and pulled out an empty le-folder. No matter how high-tech the Agency had become, a low-tech le folder was the way he began each new prole. On the tab at the top of the le he wrote AP3. He hoped his anonymous code would cause the le to be overlooked by prying eyes. There was no reason The Duke needed to know that Alexander Putnam III was a person of interest... yet. ***** A towering, older man of noble stature emerged smoothly from the shadows toward the table; his tness creating a stark contrast to the fragile stooped shoulders of Nicodemus. Though bald and dressed in the familiar brown monks attire, he was an intimidating gure with bushy eyebrows and a long, grey beard framing condent eyes and a sharp nose. His imposing build and his uid movements resembled a great bald eagle, on the verge of swooping down upon his prey, thought Alex. I am Monk, the leader of these robed neanderthals you speak of. You have rushed things along, Alexander. You have pushed, when you should have waited. And now, we will all have to make the appropriate adjustments. It is just as well. The time is very short. Putnam III nodded, saying nothing. He was impressed by the formidable man before him; impressed and somewhat frightened. Where Nicodemus was a demanding grandfatherly type who could be appeased by the appearance of honor and submission, Monks presence commanded respect and transparency. Were going to have to make a man out of you, son, Monk continued. For too long now, you have remained a little boy, bruised and strained, feeling victimized by your father. You are a perpetual wound licker. Wounds must be properly cleaned then left alone to heal completely. You continually disturb your wound by applying dirty bandages, only to rip them off, again and again; then you go back to licking the same wound. It is this which keeps you weak, both morally, and spiritually. Alex felt a mocking voice rise up within him. But the trepidation he felt, had him express his sentiments in a steady tone. With all due respect, sir. You need to speak to me in plain language, otherwise I may jump to unhelpful conclusions. He swallowed hard, awaiting Monks response, while catching the glimmer of a smile on Nicodemus face. Oh no! Let me just get right to the point then, the large cleric stood across from Alex, bending at the waist, while resting his hands on the table. You arent a pervert are you, Alexander? And yet, you keep yourself xated upon the photographs of exposed women. Have you ever wondered why you use porn as your dirty bandage?

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Of course he had. How many times had he erased his hard drive with the intention of becoming clean, so that he could do Gods work without feeling like such a hypocrite. Confusion swept over him, as the mocking voice in his head said, Dear Monk! Wont you please tell me all which ails me! Oh tell me wise one! What the hell was going on? Was this the brandy speaking? Ignoring the distressing voice, Alex asked as calmly as he could, Why is this such a big issue with you guys? Men around the world catch a sneak peak all the time! Yet, ever since I met Nicodemus here, it seems like this is all he wants to talk about! Youre an addict, Alexander. Your addiction is no different than that of the glutton, alcoholic, druggie, or homosexual. It isnt some little thing that men around the world do. Its a big thing! A huge problem! Not only for you, but now also for us. You like to sneak a peak too, the voice ridiculed, you and the old man also have a problem dont you? Alex clenched his jaw tightly for a time, prohibiting the words from nding a voice. How has my problem become yours? he asked, as he caught a glance of Nicodemus out of the corner of his eye. The old man was now smiling widely. He was loving this. Your problem became ours when the Great One chose you for the task. My personal preference would have been for Him to have chosen someone without any baggage, but that is not His way. Its a mystery to me, but He always chooses the most unlikely people for the task at hand, Monk sighed. Youre not alone, Nicodemus said sympathetically. I too, was caught in an imprisoning web, and Monk stuck with me until I was completely free. I am a very bad man, who has committed horrible atrocities against my fellow human beings. Monk? Nicodemus inquired intently. Is now the time? the haggard-looking old mans breathing was becoming strained. I am tired Monk. So very tired of it all. But I think I have the strength to do it now. I am not sure that I will be up for it later. It is not how we had planned dear Monk. But I think the time is now. Alex suddenly became wary. It was time for what? The time to harvest his liver for old Nicodemus who was about to die without a transplant? The pastor studied the two older men for some sort of clue that would indicate his fate. Nicodemus looked exhausted, but his eyes were pleading, expressing tremendous desperation. The bushy grey eyebrows of Monk, were puckered tightly, indicating his concentrated deliberation. No, this was not how wed planned it, Monk said nally, but I believe you are correct. This is now the right time and place. Go ahead, he nodded to Nicodemus.

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Chapter 10 A
gent Jack Grimsby eyed the clock on the corner of his desk. The Duke, who would not be out of his meeting for another two hours, had demanded that Jack either work late tonight, or come in for a half day on Saturday. He was none too happy about the Friday night overtime, and after a quick phone call, his wife expressed similar sentiments. Saturdays were non-negotiable. It was a day he always devoted to spending time his family. Shoving his bitter feelings aside, he typed hastily on the computer keyboard, printing pages as he went. The Agency had been gathering proles for almost every human being in the modern western world for nearly a decade now. Its data mining supercomputers ran twenty-four hours a day, compiling names from credit card transactions, airline tickets, online articles, municipal and state registries, and every database its worms could inltrate. These compilations were then cross-referenced with computers in another building which used highly accurate word-recognition software, to round-out these proles by mining email correspondence and social networking entries. Unless a person was living well-off the grid, it was not difcult for the Agency to obtain reams of information with the simple push of a button. Why he had decided to keep the discovery of Alex Putnams involvement to himself, the agent was uncertain. Should he nd any evidence which indicated criminal behavior, he would bring it to the table, but until then, hed hate to destroy another life with The Dukes chaos. The man was a pastor, for Christs sake. As a delinquent Catholic, Grimsby still had respect for men of the cloth. Clacking away at the computer, Jack scanned through the pertinent information quickly. With honors in undergraduate and multiple graduate degrees, he could see that Putnam III was no intellectual slouch. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the pretentious name, he thought. Wonder who Putnam II is? He typed in the name. This is it! he exclaimed. I think weve found the missing piece to this puzzle. He began clicking madly, printing off a constant stream of pages. It was inconsequential that the elder Putnam owned an inuential D.C. lobbying rm. But the same could not be said for Putnam and Associates biggest paying customers: three of the most well-known corporations in the military industrial complex. A globalist like George Talbott, who controlled more money than most small nations, attempting to inuence Americas military future would be big news at the Bureau. He may have just uncovered something huge! Agent Grimsbys heart was pounding hard now, on the scent like a bloodhound, digging deeper, in an effort to unearth the conclusive piece of evidence that would take this

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case from circumstantial to indictable. Disciplining himself to keep his search tightly focused, he researched the Putnam family thoroughly. He would broaden the scope on Monday, when he would put the weapons manufacturers under scrutiny. But no matter the angles he took, the only signicant item he could dig up was that the old man and the boy had a falling out, after which no record of communication between them existed; no emails, no phone calls, no visits. Blurry-eyed and frustrated, he was about to give up when The Duke swung open the ofce door, staring hard at him. The senior agent looked rufed and agitated. You uncover anything, Grim? Cause if we dont get something fast, someone is going to die. What did that mean? Jack wondered, as he casually ipped shut the folder, pushing it under a pile of les on his desk. It has been difcult getting any solid leads in this case, he said harmlessly. The Dukes eyes and neck canted to one side, missing nothing, similar to a snake preparing to strike. Whats that your working on? Were you able to get an I.D. at the convenience store? Jack Grimsby sighed, slid the folder, entitled AP3 from the pile, and ipped it open. His name is Alexander Putnam the Third. Hes a pastor at a church in Camden Heights. Theres nothing interesting in his prole except for who is father is. And who is that? The Dukes eyes narrowed. Naturally, Alexander Putnam the Second. Hes a big-time lobbyist in town representing arms manufacturers. His connections go deep in both parties, Grimsby pushed the open le toward the senior agent. Crazy thing is, theres no record that Putnam II and Putnam III have communicated with each other for the past 5 years. It appears as though there is some kind of bad blood between them. How about that? he looked genuinely surprised. Now were getting somewhere! Ill be joining you when you interview the Putnam II. Put all your efforts now into developing preliminaries on the corporations he represents. If anything interesting surfaces, phone my cell, commanded The Duke. In the meantime, I need this, he said, grabbing the AP3 le from the desk, as he hurried down the hallway. Putnam IIIs life would be forever ruined. Of this, Grimsby sadly had no doubt. *****

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Sparks ew up, as a brown cloaked gure emerged from the shadows to throw more wood on the re, only to recede back into the darkness. The table where the three men sat was also illuminated by long red candles which cast a warm glow on their faces. Rising clumsily to his feet, Nicodemus weakly began pacing the length of the table. Alexander, before I begin, I must say that I do not trust you. In many ways, you currently resemble a poorer, religious version of me before I was changed. So understand that my saying this is not a judgment or condemnation of you, per se. Rather, it is merely a reection of the character traits I have observed these last four months. Alex was uncertain of what was about to be said next, but he was positive that it would be something negative. He looked into the old mans eyes boldly, Go on... he said, letting the brandy speak for him. Old Nicodemus did not miss a beat: You are a self-centered human being. And no one should really be surprised. The western world is lled with people like you. Whats troubling though, is that you purport to be different. Outwardly, you are a pastor; a shepherd of lost sheep. Inwardly, you are fueled by your ego, enjoying your position of prominence, and using it to prop up your self-worth. I am disgusted by your glibness with broken people. Were it not for the new snifter of brandy he was now nursing, Alex would have been staring into the oor. But in glow of the drink, he sat calmly, following Nicodemus with his eyes. Everything the old codger was saying was true. It was curious how he felt a conrmation in his heart; as the nattering of the internal mocking voice was now strangely silent. Nicodemus continued, Your computer compulsion, while reprehensible, is understandable, given that you were cursed and abandoned by your father. But well leave that for another time. All of this is to say, that you are unequivocally untrustworthy. But in this decision, my feelings dont really matter. Monk here, whom I trust implicitly, says that he has heard from the Great One that you have been chosen for the task. Therefore, the words of the Great One must come before my particular feelings about you. I believe you can do the task, simply because I have faith in his words... not in your character. I believe in you, Monk interrupted with a warm smile. Nicodemus has a gift of discernment; he sees things as they are. But I have been given the gift of a prophet. I see things the way they will be in the future. Because of this, my faith in you to achieve the task at hand is indisputable. Alex beamed in spite himself. The verbal spanking delivered by Nicodemus had left him raw and vulnerable, and in that tender place, Monks words found a home, and they took root. What is the task God... er... the Great One as you say, has called me to?

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Ive already shared that with you, Nicodemus spoke soberly. You need to apply your gift of writing, to share with the world the story of my life. You need to write a book about it, wisely and carefully, because if the wrong people nd out what you are doing, you will die, and so will I. Shooting a glance at Monk, Alex inquired, Is he serious? The venerable cleric nodded. Dead serious. And your death is not the worst of it. If the tale of Nicodemus life cannot get into the hands of those who are destined to read it, our country, and our world will suffer a tragic fate. All of a sudden, Alex felt the swish of air beside him, and glancing down, saw that his computer case and Bible had unexpectedly appeared beside him. Those damned monks sure were freak-show-quality good at remaining invisible. We must return to the chairs by the re, Nicodemus said weakly. Once we are there, I will begin the story of my rebirth into the Ancient Ways. The pastor nodded, gathered up the computer and book, and followed the old man who was moving slowly toward the replace. As Alex sat, he scanned the expansive dark room, and found that Monk had disappeared. Removing the laptop computer from the case, he opened it, and quickly triggered the microphone into record mode. Then, inside the le called Greybeard, he opened the document he had begun previously, and reviewed his notes. And now, said a thick-accented, grinning Nicodemus, you will hear a most implausible story. It doesnt matter if you believe it or not. Your job now is not to believe or disbelieve. You just need to write!

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Chapter 11 A
slight pang of guilt struck Alex as he readied himself to type. After Monks appearance, he was almost convinced that Nicodemus was legit. Should he shut off the digital recording out of respect for the old mans wishes? He made a quick decision to keep it running. It just might come in handy when he was putting together the manuscript. Nicodemus was suddenly vibrant, like he had taken a magic pill. How he went from looking like a cancer-victim who might keel over at any minute to a man of youthful vigor puzzled the pastor. Animated, the old man gestured wildly as he talked. I grew up in Britain as a boy of privilege. We had the nicest country estate, the best food and servants, and I went to the nest schools. My fathers ancestors were among the Illumined elite who controlled the British Empire through banking, industrial development, and trade. When England suffered a huge trade decit with China because they had many material items we coveted, and they wanted nothing we had to offer in trade my forefathers developed the plan to harvest opium from our colonies in India, in order to addict the Chinese. My family has always had a gift for creating wealth. My father began grooming me to take over his business as a young man. A large part of this process was to indoctrinate me into the philosophy of Illumination. You must be sure to get this part, he pointed at the computer, where Alex was typing at a frenetic pace. Im a fast typer, Putnam said, slowing for a moment, so speak at your own pace. Although the fading glow of the brandy, the lateness of the hour, and the trauma of being kidnapped had left him in a severely depleted state, intrigue gripped him with such an intensity that fatigue was the furthest thing from his mind. Nicodemus continued: The Illuminist does not differentiate between business, religion, science, and politics. We simply have philosophy, or a love of knowledge if you will. The keys to living an enlightened life, for an Illumined One, are found in knowledge. This must not be confused with the key to living the renaissance experience of rebirth, which is located in truth. For there is a vast difference between knowledge and truth. This all goes back to the sacred Book of Genesis, and the two trees. The Illuminist has always preferred the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil to the Tree of Life. Did Alex detect a tone of evil in Nicodemus voice as he said that last sentence? Looking up from his typing, he squinted into the darkness of the cavernous room, searching out the steady kindness he had found in Monk. Why didnt they turn any

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lights on in this place? What time was it anyway? Maybe it was time to be heading home. You must also make note of this, prompted Nicodemus again, pointing a withered, gnarled nger. Illuminism functions according to a paradox. To the general public, we proclaim that everyone must be enlightened in order for humanity to progress to her greatest destiny. But privately, we hold to the occult principle of secrecy. Occult, means hidden or concealed, he said with intensity. These terms are very important if you are going to possibly understand the rest! Alex nodded patiently as he typed, wondering why Nicodemus seemed so on edge. I was groomed as an Illuminist of the highest order by becoming a Master of the Craft and later, an Eye of the World. The Craft taught me, that just as the All Seeing Eye sits upon the Great Pyramid on the Seal of the United States, that we, the Illumined Ones, were the few who were destined to see on behalf of the great unwashed masses who were below us. We were fated to be the Guardians written about in Platos Republic. We were the ones who knew what was best for the planet, and for all of her inhabitants. But, as the Craft dictated, all of this must remain concealed. For the painful secret of the Pyramid, is that the Eye on top is but an illusion; for truly, it rests upon the foundation of the large number of people below. Everyone knows that the greatest strength of a structure is found in its foundation. If the many, who make up the foundation, ever found out that they were being manipulated by the few, our grand illusion would be over! Nicodemus swept his hands through the air dramatically. I dont mean to project fear upon you as I tell this next part, said the old man in a lower tone. It is the part of my life that saddens me the most; even more than when I banished my children. Were it not for the consolation I nd in the Ancient Words of men like David, who had a man murdered because he coveted his wife; and Saul who would be renamed Paul, who, as an Illumined One, killed Christians before he became reborn I could not live with myself. Alexander, his old voice choked quietly, I have done many bad things. The Craft... what only the few at the top know, is that the secret power of The Craft only works through dark magic. This is concealed, for it is occult. Illumined Guardians must participate in acts, which not only prove their commitment to The Cause, but also serve as leverage, should one begin to doubt anothers commitment. In The Craft, we joke about it, calling it voluntary blackmail. These horric acts, also feed the beast, so to speak, who empowers our dark arts. You see, our illumination comes at a high price. We become the Enlightened Ones, Guardians of the Planet, only at the cost of our souls, for we become enslaved to each

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other through our heinous crimes; ultimately held tightly by the dark claw of the Light Bearer, himself. Alex, now completely engrossed, sensed the sorrowful tension in the old man, and was surprised to nd himself feeling compassion for him. Here was this proud captain of industry, who, moments earlier, had berated the pastors own character right in front of Monk, now reduced to tears of remorse. Was he feeling compassion? Or pity? I must confess to you, so that you will know that I have been changed, Nicodemus whispered between sobs. I have participated in human trafcking to provide gifts of pleasure to my illumined brothers. I have sanctioned the slaughter of infants, using their innocent blood as an instrument to increase my personal dominance within the illumined community. The blood of tens of thousands of Africans is on my hands, as I personally nanced both sides of a revolution to ensure my companys mineral rights within the region. This, Alexander, is just the beginning. It is my legacy of horror! He collapsed in his big leather chair, weeping violently. In shock, Alex found his snifter, and took a long pull in the silence. Was this story for real? His imagination began getting the better of him, and it stirred up a strange animosity within, until it seemed as though a switch inside of him, ipped. If this bastard accomplished even half of what he said he did, he deserved to be hanged from the highest beam in this great library of his, and smashed to a pulp with a baseball bat. But the pastors emerging hostility was hushed when he saw that Nicodemus had reined in his emotions, and was staring intently into his face, seemingly reading his thoughts, once again. Nicodemus scolded him bitterly, You judge me, with the all-seeing hatred of an Enlightened One. And this is how I know that you have been brainwashed. Your brain, an old nger tapped on the side of his forehead, has been washed in the hatred of religion. It is time you washed your brain with the truth of the Book. The crazy miscreant was actually trying to ip all of this onto him? A strange, uncontrollable fury began to rise within Alex again, and as he clenched a st, he felt a rm hand on his shoulder. Monk calmed the air. Nicodemus. It is a futile act to become frustrated with those who dont know any better. Lets get on with the story, shall we? The re remained in the old mans eyes. He became argumentative Oh, he knows better. He told me that he knows the Words of Life, inside and out. Who is this hypocrite to judge me?

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Nicodemus! Monk spoke authoritatively. Do not allow who you were in the past to speak. You have been changed; blessed now with a magnicent future. Harness your mouth man! After a long awkward pause, Nicodemus smiled bleakly, Youre right, of course. I was wrong for what I said toward you, Alexander, including the thoughts I held against you in my heart. Please forgive me. Nodding his head, Alex made a decision to not drink any more brandy. The drama in the room was making him dizzy enough. He felt as though his life was spinning out of control; that he was in the middle of a whirlwind. It drove him crazy that both of the older men had been condescending toward him, in the midst of enlisting his aid. It shook his pride. Even Monk believed he didnt know any better! Now, where was I? asked Nicodemus with a slightly confused look, as he stared up toward the dark wooden panels on the ceiling. Why not pick up the story where you and I met for the rst time, suggested Monk, just before he retreated again into the shadows among the books lining the wall. The old man agreed. Well, yes. Well pick it up from there. Perturbed, Alex took the computer from his lap, and set it on the table. He stood, stretched, and turning his back to the replace, squinted into the darkness, searching for Monk. Mr. Monk, he called out. I think I have had about enough for one evening. All was silent in the big room. Mr. Monk! he shouted louder still. Here, here, spoke Monks even-tempered voice from behind him in the darkness on his left side. Alexander, your evening with us will be concluding quite soon, after which, you will be escorted safely back to your apartment. Please bear with us for a few more minutes. And as you do, take meticulous notes. You have been charged with the heavy burden of communicating Nicodemus story to the world. Relenting, Alex sat back down into the deep leather chair. He picked up the laptop with indifference, and rested his chafed wrists on the edge of the keyboard. He was tired. He was tired of being responsible for saving the world. Nicodemus was looking slightly more lucid and composed. It was clear that both the late hour, and the telling of the story were taking its toll on him. He continued: Ah yes! I rst met Monk at the Bilderberg meeting last year in Venice. Alex slowed at the unfamiliar name. Bilderberg? What is that?

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It is a secret meeting of the chosen few. In recent years there has been more publicity surrounding the event, as conspiracy theorists continue to speculate about what really goes on behind the closed doors. And what really does go on? Alex asked curiously. I mean, is that something you can share. Thats the whole point of your being here son! said Nicodemus with a hint of impatience. Then, catching himself, he calmly continued: Bilderberg is predominantly where the bankers of the world meet with corporate leaders to chart the course of global business for the near and distant future. It is a pyramid-type of event, similar to my membership on the Council of Foreign Relations and the Trilateral Commission. At the bottom of the pyramid are the basers, who are up-and-coming politicians, media personalities, corporate heads, and other intellectual elites. We swear everyone to secrecy, and the basers just love how important they feel. We wine and dine them, pamper them silly, send them to workshops, where they chart the course for the next year. Alex was puzzled. You mean you let the people at the bottom call the shots? These basers determine the direction? You cant be serious? Write this down! Nicodemus was red up again and was on a roll. The Illuminati are great students of history. Perhaps you have heard the saying, that it is the victor who writes history. This is true. We write your history, which you have studied in school. But when becoming a Master in the Craft, we must rigorously learn a different version of history, which is a secret to all except for those who advance to the highest levels. It is the true history of the world, and it reveals how we have controlled the globe for thousands of years. You look at the world through the lenses we give you to wear. When you look at the United States, you see power, prosperity, patriotism, and conservative Christianity. Looking through the lenses worn by the Illuminati, we view America as the New Atlantis, a country created for the sole purpose of culminating the efforts of centuries of work, to establish complete domination over the planet by the enlightened few. Disbelievingly, Alex continued typing. Some power-trip, this Nicodemus was on, he thought. Discerning his doubt, the old man went on to prove his point. When you travel throughout Washington D.C., what do you mostly see when studying the various statues, and ornamentation on public buildings? Do you see evidence of Christian symbology? Or the symbols of the pagan myths most treasure by The Craft? Do you see Jesus, Crucixes, and the Disciples? Or do you see gods and goddesses, Egyptian obelisks, and occult pentagrams?

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You must come to comprehend the occult principle that enlightenment is made available to all, but only a few are destined to obtain it. When we who are Illumined enter this great city, we see everywhere around us the evidence of our domination, and yet, the common man just sees pretty, random buildings. Why is this the case? Because we are each looking through different lenses of history. You will see the Statue of Liberty as a generous gift from France, but I understand it as a symbol of The Craft, which enunciates to all Masters, that we are the victors. Those who are Illumined, believe that the nal destiny of the United States will achieve the unstoppable, triumphant climax of The Great Plan. Is that so? the young pastor trailed off, while continuing to hammer away at the keys. Monks existence in this room was the only thing that gave anything that Nicodemus said, any credence. Monk seemed real... and sane, for that matter. The rest was pretty fantastical indeed! Write this down! Nicodemus barked, now seemingly in his own world. The Illumined version of history establishes a variety of enlightened principles which guide each of us as we work to fulll The Great Plan. One of these principles is called, The Illusion of Base Control. The Illusion of Base Control works in this way. The Illumined Ones at the top of the pyramid determine a desired outcome. We then use a myriad of manipulations to implant those ideas into naturally inuential people, who are at the base of the pyramid. We love to use professors and other academics, scientists, researchers, statisticians; anyone who has a natural inclination to the sweet nectar of enlightenment. Then, we build the pride of those people, by rewarding them with funding from our philanthropic foundations. We publish their work. We give them air-time in the media. We do everything possible to tell them how enlightened they are, pulling all the strings to rmly root our specic ideas into their psyche. Then, we invite them, as experts, to our secret meetings, whereupon they direct workshops which rather innocently arrive at conclusions very similar to our desired outcomes. We then take these suggestions, and put them in place as accepted policies, and nobody is any the wiser. The Illusion of Base Control is much like voting. It gives the base the illusion that it has all the control. The pastors typing slowed to a halt. It was a brilliant ploy. Perhaps it would work in the church ofce on the other staff members. Looking up from the laptop screen, Alex searched the old mans face, in an attempt, once and for all, to determine sanity. Nicodemus caught the look and smiled. Yes, this man may be tired and sick, but he still had all his marbles. To return to the story, continued Nicodemus, I met Monk at the Bilderberg meeting which was held in Venice that year. He had somehow managed to gain entry. How? That remains a mystery which he has not shared. I do know that he did not attend in

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that ridiculous monks outt, though. He was dressed in a magnicent suit, with an even ner wig. I was amazed to nd out later, that it wasnt really his own hair. During one of the workshops, I noticed that he kept watching me; just drilling holes in my head with those spooky grey eyes. Up to this time, I have always been in charge, and was unaccustomed to being challenged in this way. So I approached him, and asked to see his credentials, in an attempt to identify him. And that was when he asked me the question. Putnam III was now forcing himself to continue keeping a written record of the old mans words. The tale was drawing him in, to the point where he wanted to stop everything just to listen. But he continued clacking away, even though his computers audio recording program was secretly catching every word. What did he ask you? Alex wondered. He pulled me aside to a place that was private, and whispered in my ear: Do you want to be free? I dont know if it was what he said, or the way that he said it, or if I was overcome by the stains of my guilt, but I was consumed by a rare involuntary response which caught me completely by surprise: I told him, yes. And I didnt even have a clue what he was talking about. No longer typing, Alex looked intently into the wrinkled, beard-covered face. What happened next? he asked, sitting on the edge of his chair. I looked up, and he was gone. It was so sudden, that I had to think twice as to whether we had actually interacted. So I continued on with the business of the day, including a meeting of what we call the Eyes of the World. This is the gathering of the Illumined Ones at the pinnacle of the pyramid; only the Knights of the Brotherhood and the Sacred Families are higher. While those who are at the lower tiers of the Pyramid of Illumination will often have business meetings as you would in any corporation of fraternal organization, the Eyes never meet without rst going through a dark ritual. You see, the power of the Eyes is derived solely from Illusion. As in David Coppereld-type magic? inquired Alex. Write this down! Nicodemus vacillated again toward impatience. If you are to properly explain my story, you must master this understanding! Every Eye in the Illuminati worships Lucifer; the Light Bearer. During our education to become Masters in the Craft, we were instructed that Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, is the enemy. We were told that Lucifer was the creative force of the Universe. Therefore, enlightenment is only obtained by rituals which bring worship to the Light Bearer.

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But what does the Sacred Word of the Ancients tell us about Lucifer? The Apostle Paul tells us that Satan only masquerades as an angel of light. This mask, is his illusion. And it is this illusion into which each Eye commits his soul. Remember, occult means concealed or hidden. Therefore, those who possess the greatest enlightenment, are in reality, those who have become the greatest masters of illusion. During my months of rebirth, I came to realize the fraudulent nature of Lucifer worship. The Devil convinced us that he was the Lord of the Earth, and offered those who served him, beautiful gifts of wisdom and knowledge. All he asked of us, was to reject Yahweh; which was an easy thing to do, because the Ancient Words could be made to look quite childish and unsophisticated through our precepts of enlightenment. But in order for the illusion to be complete, our Dark Lord glossed over one single fact that reason cannot overcome. Lucifer is a created being, and Yahweh is the Creator. The greatest illusionist cannot hide the fact that the Creator will always trump His creation with ease. And that is the reason, Alexander, that the Eyes must engage in dark rituals in order to replenish our unfathomable abilities to create illusion. Here is the truth! Master illuminists are really master illusionists! It felt like a dagger in my heart, the day that I learned that Lucifer wasnt the Creator, for if he wasnt the Creator, he was nothing but a counterfeiter. What pain lled my soul to know that all of the wealth and power I had created, was built through a massive counterfeiting machine, established in me, not by an angel of light, but by the Dark Lord, himself. I knew then, that I was nothing more than a murderer, and a common thief. Youve written all of this down, right? Nicodemus asked doubtfully. Alex felt like saying, The tape is rolling old man, why dont you just relax! Instead, he just nodded in agreement. Then back to the story, he continued, now with a hint of weakness in his voice. I was at the meeting of the Eyes of the World, and we were participating in the nal ritual of Bilderberg that year... Which was...? Alex interrupted. It is really of no consequence to the story, Nicodemus rebuffed, waving a hand through the air. But if you are going to insist, it is a mixing of innocent blood with a variety of pungent herbs, while each of the Eyes is unied in the Rite of Incantation. It was during the Rite of Incantation that I realized something was wrong on the inside of me. My spirit was unable to connect with the others. I was the Master of Ceremonies, leading the other Eyes in the ever-important closing Rite, but I was only mouthing the words. I had said these powerful words with passion many times before, but I was not able to identify with the ceremony.

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At rst, I thought the other Eyes would realize that I was failing to enter into the magic. Our eyes were to be closed, but I squinted mine, and realized by their facial expression that they knew nothing was amiss. I was so relieved when the ceremony and the details of our business were complete! I went straight to bed, deeply afraid that I was about to be unseated from my position among the Eyes of the World. Falling into a deep sleep, I was traumatized by nightmares of which I had never experienced before. I awoke two days later in a monastery, which I am guessing is somewhere in Central America, completely unknowing of how I got there. In the next six months I began my journey of rebirth. And now, Nicodemus began trailing off tiredly, I am using my old skills of illusion as a method of self-preservation in order to keep myself alive, while functioning as a mole in the Illumined Ones lair. Monk appeared out of nowhere, and stood next to the ailing old man. Nicodemus had somehow caught wave upon wave of strength to get this far; but now he was playedout. Please remain here Alexander, as we get Nicodemus settled into his room. He has been through a great ordeal tonight. In a few minutes, we will take you home. Just a quick question, probed the pastor of the brown-robed cleric. Why do you need me to write Nicodemus story, when youve already experienced it all with him? Why not just write it yourself? Monk grinned beneath his beard, as he helped steady Nicodemus on his feet. The Great Ones ways are not always our ways. It would have been much easier for me to tell the tale, but the Great One forbade it. He said that you had been chosen for the job, and that if we approached you, you would do it. Bidding goodnight, Nicodemus and Monk shufed down a dark hallway. Just before they were about to round a corner, Nicodemus, turned back, facing the great room. Alexander! he rumbled, in one nal exertion. Now you know why you do what you do! And with that, he turned his back and was gone. What did that mean? Now you know why you do what you do. What an odd thing to say. Alex shut down his computer, and packed it in the case. He sat deeply in the leather chair, the warm ames in the replace dancing with the thoughts in his mind. It was the day that never ended. He was suddenly very tired.

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Chapter 12

gent Grimsby! The Duke here, I need you in this ofce ASAP!

What... what time is it? Jack fumbled around the bedside table, squinting to read the red digits on the clock. Its 3AM! Is this something pressing, or something that can wait? Ive only been home for four hours. Even half-conscious, he was naturally irritated when the senior agent called himself, The Duke. It was so self-aggrandizing. His wife sat up blinking. Seeing his cell phone to his ear, she groaned and rolled over, in an effort to display her annoyance. Grim, I dont care if youve been up all night. Get your ass back here. Ill ll you in as soon as you arrive. The sleepy agent eased up behind his wifes back, and kissed her on the shoulder. Im ready to quit the Agency at any time, Wanda. Itll cost our future some pension money, but Im ready to be done. Just say the word, he whispered. Go to work Jack, she said, without moving. The kids and I will be ne. Just get back as soon as you can. Swinging his bare feet to the oor, he reached for his jeans on the bedpost and dressed hastily. Tell the kids Ill make it up to them, okay? he beckoned. She mumbled something unintelligible, but was thinking clearly: Id rather you made it up to me! His regular one hour commute into the District took half the time, thanks to the fact that it was a weekend morning. Early morning. Coffee in hand, he tapped lightly on The Dukes ofce door, and entered. About time you got here, commented the agent, smelling of stale coffee and cigarette smoke. He looked like hell, which was not an improvement over his regular appearance. Two hours ago, the agents you posted to watch Alexander Putnams place streamed this video to me. He clicked the play button on the computer video editor, and a grainy surveillance clip began. The white clapboard house Putnam rented in Camden Heights was vaguely illuminated by a lone streetlight. The windows were dark, which was not a surprise for that late hour. In the driveway sat his car. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

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Then, the lights of a vehicle slowing on the road appeared, and a dark vehicle pulled up behind Putnams car. A large man, dressed in a brown coat and hat, emerged and opened the back door. Then, agile as a cat, and with the effortlessness of someone with great strength, he hoisted was that a body? and opped the elongated sack over his shoulder. The man used a key to open the back door of the house, and emerged 15 minutes later, leaving as he had come. It appeared to be a body in a bag. But was it? The man had not struggled with it, as though it were dead weight. He had handled it with ease. What the hell? Grimsby muttered. And heres the rest! another click of the mouse began another clip. Here is the same vehicle leaving the Talbott compound in D.C. one hour and ve minutes before arriving at Putnams place in Camden Heights. Click, click. And here we see it returning to the mansion one hour and fteen minutes later. Agents followed the car both ways, and both times they were eluded. Its an indication that Talbott has hired some pros. To lose an agent at that time of night takes training. The vehicle plates are fakes. And no matter how much we zoom, we cant get any facial recognition on the courier. Could Putnam be dead? wondered Jack. If he is, all of our problems are over. We can arrest George Talbott at daybreak for murder, he rubbed his hands together, smugly. The Duke was trying his best to suppress his elation. His bosses were going to love this; and his long awaited promotion would be the certain result. Grimsbys train of thought was working through the details. Knowing his senior partners hostility to doing things by the book, he felt it would be prudent to inquire whether or not the rogue agent had authorized anyone to enter the house. The Duke shook his head. We cant afford to have this one thrown out of court on a technicality. So well need to be sure we follow proper procedure. Thats why youre here. Tell us what we need to do. Grimsby didnt hesitate, We have to go in. Theres enough reasonable cause for us to enter the house to ensure Mr. Putnams safety without a warrant. But we need to act quickly. The courts will wonder why we didnt respond immediately. Who says we didnt? mused The Duke contemptuously. Ill inform the men that you are on the way to Camden Heights, and that they are to wait for you. Now get moving!

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Agent Grimsby grabbed his coat and headed down the corridor to the elevators. The Duke was a crafty idiot. Jack recognized all too well that he was playing the stooge and that if any part of the investigation were to go south, he would be blamed. ***** Groggily, Alexander Putnam III, opened his eyes. His head was throbbing. What was that? Someone pounding at the door. He slipped off the covers and was about to grab a robe, when he realized that he was completely dressed. Confused, he sang out sleepily, Coming! Flipping the dead bolt, he stood there stunned at the sight of ve plain-clothed men, guns drawn at their side. Wait a minute, he said slowly. Whats this all about? An unshaven, stocky man with a kind face approached him, asking, Are you Alexander Putnam? The pastor nodded, speechless, wondering if he should be lifting his hands in the air. Jack Grimsby, introduced the agent as he handed him a business card. You arent in trouble Mr. Putnam. We had a report of suspicious activity in the neighborhood, and we were concerned for your well-being. Do you mind if I come in? Um... well, sure, said Alex, opening the door wider. Jack waved off the other men, and entered into the small mud room which led down a hallway to the kitchen. After taking a quick look around the apartment, he sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. You want coffee? the pastor inquired nervously. I was just about to make a pot for myself. He had to calm himself, and silence the drumming in his head. Could this man be here because of his connection with Nicodemus? A ash of memory suddenly entered his mind regarding the events of the previous night, and he became conscious that he had no recall of how he had gotten home. It was also peculiar that he was still dressed in yesterdays clothes. Play it cool, he thought. Just play it cool. Yeah, Ill have a cup. Been burning the candle at both ends, if you know what I mean, Grimsby said conversationally. I apologize for the early visit, he continued, but someone saw something odd at your house last night and phoned it in. We thought we should check it out. The mist in Alex mind immediately cleared. Someone called a federal agency to investigate suspicious activity in his backyard? No. Local police departments existed for that. Besides, the back of his house was concealed from neighboring views by a

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hedge on one side, and a wall of the other. Had he been the object of a stakeout? Panicking, he tried to digest the realization that he was in way over his head. Should he tell the agent the whole story? Hesitating, he deliberated whether or not Nicodemus and Monk had been legitimate or if they were conning him somehow. It rattled him that he had been snatched and drugged, and likely drugged again for the return trip. It was a conundrum: to tell or not to tell. All at once, he decided to keep the secret... for now. He surmised that if he told everything he knew, it would take but a day or two before his life would go back to the way it was. As comfortable as that might have seemed, he now found it to be an unpleasant prospect. He methodically prepared the coffee maker, longing for more time to gather his thoughts. Last night was just a quiet evening, he commented nonchalantly. Nothing out of the ordinary. We pastors kind of live a boring life, you know? Friday rolls around and we get home and go to bed. Things were not adding up in Jacks mind. The clergyman had come to the door as though he had just wakened, yet here he was fully dressed, smelling vaguely of alcohol. By the look of it, it was possible that he had slept in his clothes. Was this a man of the cloth with a drinking problem? The agent decided to do some gentle probing. Where were you last night? he inquired, closely observing any tells the younger man might reveal. A tell was a gambling term adopted by the Agency for any reaction which might disclose dishonesty in the person being interrogated. Where there was dishonestly, there was a puzzle piece. Cases were built by assembling all the the different pieces of the puzzle to create the complete picture. It was disconcerting to Grimsby that few puzzle pieces were actually tting together in this particular puzzle. With the practiced pan-face of a skilled poker player, Alex revealed nothing when he responded. I was here all night, he lied smoothly, just tired from a busy week of work. The pastors response was troubling. If he was being used as a pawn to somehow inuence Putnam II, he should have demonstrated fear. There was a process of elimination going on in the agents mind. Was Alex participation voluntary? What would a pastor in a distant neighboring town be doing with a Washington-based globalist multi-billionaire. Where was the connection? He decided to use his hole card. Mr. Putnam, a clerk at a convenience store near the church where you work, identied you as the purchaser of some goods which ended up at a scene where we were investigating. We know this by a receipt which was left at the scene. Can you explain this to me?

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Finally! There it was. He watched as the pastor stopped mid-stride, stiffening up, before he turned his back to face the kitchen counter. Yes, he had been there all right. Now why? Startled by the question, Alex felt his body involuntarily tense up. Why did he have to be such a cheap SOB? Leaving a receipt for a six dollar purchase! Dumb! It was just plain dumb! He turned his back, hoping to buy some time. He began to panic, knowing that the more time he took, the guiltier he would look. Look, he turned and faced the agent. I ate or drank something last night that is not agreeing with me. Ill be back in just a minute, Alex said as he walked briskly to the bathroom, shutting the door. He sat on the toilet, considering his options. There wasnt much time. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm his nerves. What would he say? What was that!? Was his leg trembling? He struggled to get a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a sleek, shiny, black cell phone. A rubber band, wrapped around the phones clamshell shape, held a note, written in red pen on yellow paper. With the rubber band removed, he was about to open the phone when it stopped vibrating. He picked up the note that had fallen to the oor, and read the neat, cursive letters. Keep this phone charged and on your person at all times. Do not use it for personal phone calls. It will decrypt incoming calls from us only. Other incoming or outgoing calls can be intercepted. M Flipping open the phone, the screen indicated that he just been sent a text message. He awkwardly hit a button, and the message appeared: Agents at your house. Do not say anything. You are trusted. Do not reply to this. Will be OK. M Returning the phone and note to his pocket, he considered the message. He didnt feel very trustworthy right now. To tell the agent the entire story, would mean an end to all the madness, but would return him to life as normal. How badly did he want to return to his normal life? Sure he had been missing out on evenings with his internet girls, but he also hated his job, and loathed the intolerable loneliness he felt. If in actual fact he was not being conned by Nicodemus and Monk, this might be his chance to actually do something of importance in life; something Putnam II could actually be proud of. But what would he say to the waiting agent outside his door? A simple idea suddenly struck him: he would tell the plain truth. You okay? asked Agent Grimsby, as Alex returned from the bathroom, still looking pale-faced and uncomfortable.

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He nodded in response. About that bag of groceries, he confessed, while pulling up a chair, facing the agent. I got a phone call from a new congregant just as I was about to leave work yesterday. Goes by the name Nicodemus; an older gentleman that I have met only once before. He asked if I would pick up a little bread and milk to drop off to a shut-in aunt of his on the other side of town. I thought the request was odd, but my line of work kind of forces me to do all kinds of things youd in the real world like to say no to. Which means what, exactly? Grimsby commiserated, hoping to get Putnam to lower his guard. As clergy, we are being paid by the congregation to do Gods work, Alex explained, grateful that the agent was steering the questioning in a different direction. Everyone knows what God expects of humans; anyone can read about it in the Bible. But because Im a pastor, Im paid to meet those expectations. This frequently lands me in circumstances where I feel compelled to meet the expectations of others, when Id really prefer to tell them to go to hell. Jack Grimsby chuckled. The young ministers choice of words and ironic candor were unexpected. Does it feel as though they own you? he sympathized, considering the Agency which probably owned him. Sure they do! Alex admitted. Between the demands of the congregation and the denomination, I am pretty much their slave. And so you felt obligated to help this shut-in when this fellow phoned you? Exactly! I mean come on! Alex spoke dramatically, aiming to increase his believability. Just as I am about to leave the ofce for the weekend, I get a call from someone I barely know, to buy groceries for someone I dont know, who lives all of the way across town! Talk about crazy! What was this aunt like when you delivered the groceries? Never saw her. I knocked on the door, and said I had groceries from Nicodemus. She told me to come in and set them on the table. Expecting to be reimbursed, I left the receipt. And then what? I left and came home. Made some supper, and fell asleep in front of the TV, Alex lied. Oh really? Anything good on? Grimsby inquired harmlessly. The pastor shook his head. Nothing noteworthy to speak of.

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And you witnessed nothing suspicious during the early hours of this morning? Nope. All I saw was the backs of my eyelids. Grimsby jotted down a few pertinent facts in his notepad frustrated at what was looking like a dead end while reluctantly conceding that by all appearances, the pastor was telling him the truth. It left him grappling to nd the missing connection between George Talbott and Alexander Putnam III. Pulling a picture from a le folder, he pushed it toward the younger man. Do you recognize him? Alex made an effort to study the photo, while deliberating whether or not he should disclose that he recognized the man as Nicodemus. Looks sort of like him, he conrmed guardedly. The man I met over a week ago at the church ofce was much thinner; more sickly-looking. I prayed with him for cancer, he lied insecurely, unsure if his words were lining up with what the already Agency knew. Did they know that he had spent last night having supper with Nicodemus? He carefully oated out some questions, hoping to nd out. What happened here last night? Is this man dangerous? I mean do I have cause for concern over my own personal safety? And... he pushed the picture back to Grimsby, what is this mans real name? Without getting into the classied stuff, heres what I can tell you. This fellow Nicodemus, well call him, has made contact with you three times now, in the time-span of about a week. The rst time was last Friday at the church. Then, by your account, he phoned you yesterday afternoon. And when was the third time? Alex asked apprehensively. This morning around 2AM, explained the agent, a vehicle which originated from Nicodemus residence in D.C., drove all the way out here, to drop off a package. The driver pulled out what looked to be a body from the back of the car, opened your back door with a key, and came out 15 minutes later, empty-handed, to then proceeded back to the Washington residence. As Grimsby told the story, he caught the look of shock upon the Alex face, and it conrmed his original assumption that the clergyman was telling the truth. The truth was, however, that Alex was merely dumbfounded that the damned monks had actually drugged him again!

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Chapter 13
Tired as he was, Alex could not go to sleep after the agent left. He lay in bed, a bundle of raw nerves, examining every angle, wondering if he had made the right decision. Though Putnam II would never think twice about rolling the dice, Putnam III was no gambler. But now, the sober realization that he was starting to gamble with his life was beginning to sinking in. Deceiving the Agency, was not to be taken lightly. He had read where other innocent people had lied or intentionally misled the Bureau; and they had each paid dearly with jail time. It was not the right time in history to be messing with the federal government. Throughout the last ten of his twenty eight years, Alex had been gripped by a vicious circle, which maintained momentum by the counter-weights of his faith and his compulsion. For as much as he adored his digital girlfriends, he had an equal afnity for what he perceived to be his Father in Heaven. Every six months or so, Alex would begin his circular journey by erasing his hard drive, committing himself to live a pure spiritual life. Typically, this phase would last for a month or two and would consist of regimented Bible reading, strict avoidance of television, many disciplined hours of prayer, healthy eating, and consciously altering his internet habits. The pastor knew that the World Wide Web had become his own personal Pandoras box. Like the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, it promised to fulll all of his curiosities with instant gratication; and such raw power was addictive. He considered the internet to be the beckoning voice of a siren, of which he was powerless to resist. So, during his months of virtuous living, he replaced topless, buxom blondes by researching conspiracy theories. It was natural for Alex to distrust. Past wounds and a tendency toward hyper-sensitivity resulted in his fearing real commitment, loathing criticism, and feeling the most at ease when being alone. But it had become a trap to him: keeping him in the clutches of loneliness; dominating him with troubling bouts of paranoia. When Nicodemus had said that he was a member of the Illuminati, Alex needed no further explanation. He understood that the Illuminati were evil. He suspected that they conspired with governments to steer the globe in a direction of their choosing. He believed that they were the bottom-line to everything that went on in the world. Not content to be a blind follower, the pastor would spend night after night, month after month, cross-referencing, studying history, documenting modern trends, wondering when the great takeover would take place. Then, his days of noble research against

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the forces of evil would end, as he tumbled off the wagon again, into the arms of his precious virtual mistresses. At this point, the world could spin off its axis, for all he cared; for the Grand Turk had returned to his harem. The question for him now was, who should he trust? Nicodemus the old man who claimed to be an Illuminati turned-good? Or the Agency, a branch of government that he believed was actively engaged in spying on the American people, to ensure that they could be kept under control? How did he get into this predicament? He wondered about it for a long time, realizing that unlike many of the unpleasant mistakes hed made in life, this was not the result of his own bad choices. No. These were not circumstances of his own making. Someone else was making them for him. The question was, did he want to opt out? Weighing the pros and cons, he fought the self-pity that was struggling to consume him. What did they want with him? He was but the low man on the totem pole of a big church. He was a pastor, minding his own business, going about life as usual. Now, he had ofcially become a criminal by lying to federal investigators, for something he didnt want to be a part of in the rst place. Or did he? The man called Monk intrigued him. The sun shone through his bedroom window, and suddenly he was bored with his listlessness. He showered, dressed, ate a small meal, and decided it was time for a walk. If the Agency was watching his apartment, it might be prudent to locate their whereabouts. He made up his mind then. It no longer mattered that the monks had drugged him. He decided he was going to side with the men in brown. He would write Nicodemus book. He would lie to the authorities. What made them think they could spy on him like this? Who died and made the government god over his life? His ready suspicion of government blinded him, however, to the simple fact that a private citizen named George Talbott, had been infringing on his personal privacy for the past four months. ***** The trip to Camden Heights had created more questions for Jack Grimsby than answers. Dutifully, he called The Duke with an update while returning to D.C. Duke, its Grim here. Just wanted you to know that Putnam is alive and well. Youre wrong! No, hes all in one piece. Says he was home all night and had no recollection of any early morning visitors. He looked a little strung out, but seemed to be telling the truth all the way around. Says Talbott, who was going by the name Nicodemus, met with him

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last week for cancer prayer, and contacted him yesterday by phone to drop off the bread and milk to a shut-in relative. He delivered it, went home, and by the looks of things, had a few drinks, and fell asleep in his clothes. Its possible he has a drinking problem. You gotta be joking me... The Duke muttered incredulously. He had already acquired a signed warrant for Talbotts arrest based on the evidence they had accumulated in the last twenty-four hours. Swearing viciously, he condemned himself for not making the trip to Camden Heights to make the house call. The news that Alexander Putnam was still alive threw a wrench into things. You and I will have to interview Putnam II. There has to be a connection somewhere. He hung up in disgust. But its Saturda... Jack protested into the dead line. He hit the button to speed dial home. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation. ***** So how on earth did they nd him? asked George Talbott wearily. His body did not respond well to being rousted so early after such a late night. Monk pulled back the curtains, ooding the room with sunshine. Apparently, he left a receipt at the Everett Street apartment, which they traced back to a store, where they were able to get a positive ID. From there, they staked out his house from vacant building on the other side of the block, where they witnessed our man making his delivery last night. Talbott was alarmed. Hes in danger then! You know this place is being constantly monitored. If they make the connection that hes been here with me, hes a dead man. Grasping a glass of water and a dish of pills from the outstretched hand of the browncloaked cleric, he began washing them down, one at a time. Peace, said Monk gently. The Great One knew what he was doing in choosing Alexander. Recall the story told in the Ancient Words about Joseph a man seemingly cursed who was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. When they encountered him again years later, then as pharaohs right hand man, they humbled themselves before him. He told them not to worry about their ill treatment of him, for that which they intended for evil, The Great One intended for good. Alexander has lived much of his life as a lie. Then chuckling, he said, Lets just say that hes now using his skills to good effect. Do you think hes safe? said the old man with concern. We have no backup plan if they destroy him. Gazing upon the brilliant fall day through the bedroom window, Monk gave thought to the new problems at hand. Getting face time with him will be more difcult now. We

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were able to slip him the cell phone, which he has demonstrated he can use. Well be able to direct him from a distance. Alexander is a very cagey young man. I think he will survive. How about the bugs? Were you able to plant them in his apartment? Talbott inquired, slipping out of bed and into a housecoat. Monk nodded. Yes, weve installed ve in his home. Well do the same at his church ofce. Monitoring him should not be an issue. Getting him to do what we ask, will be another matter altogether. My only fear is that his obvious suspicion and paranoia will be used against us. We must combat this weakness by getting him onto the facts of our story, sooner than we had rst planned. And how will we accomplish that? wondered Talbott, pacing nervously. Theyre watching him and us around the clock. Somehow, were going to have to nd a time and place so that I can tell him the story without creating suspicion through the interruption of either of our schedules. If we dont play our cards right, I could end up a sudden cancer victim, and Putnam III the recipient of a fatal automobile accident. Monk continued to ponder wistfully, From here on in, we must think like them the serpents that they are while maintaining the appearance of being as harmless as doves. Chef will soon have your breakfast ready, the cleric said, walking toward the door. Turning, he added, I now need to go to the quiet place, to hear again from the Great One. ***** The driveway of Alexander Putnams rented home, ran beside, then swept behind his house, making all observation from the front of the building all but impossible. With the impenetrable barriers of a hedge and a wall to the sides of the property, the pastor correctly assumed that his watchers were situated in a house located across an expansive eld on the opposite side of the block, but within view of the back door he always used. Emerging onto the porch, he did his best to act naturally, zipping his windbreaker as if preparing for a brisk walk. He set off at a good clip amidst the tumbling brown leaves and their sweet scent in the cool air, nding himself unable to take pleasure in the late fall day. Knowing he was being watched was the overriding concern. Rounding the corner on the far side of the block, he glimpsed, from the corner of his eye, the unmarked Fed cars parked in the driveway of a home with a realtors sign posted out front. His pace did not falter as he steadily kept his gaze on the sidewalk ahead of him, as if in deep thought. Continuing the brisk march through town, he

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attempted to catch a glimpse of any followers at every turn and in the large windows of storefronts. On several occasions he caught a shadow of movement behind him, but whether it was a pursuer, or his imagination, he did not know. Three weeks ago, he had been relatively anonymous; apart from his prominence among the ever-growing local church congregation. Now, he was under surveillance by the Agency, a reality that inspired more fear than he had ever known in the past. Of late, the country was undergoing changes which he thought smacked of Third World despotism. The serve-and-protect cops were becoming antiques of the past, seemingly being replaced by masked paramilitary-style squads who claimed to execute swift justice. Any blind person not distracted by soap operas or sports could recognize that something sinister was afoot, and it was making many Americans, including Alex, restless. The President further fueled the anxiety of citizens by circumventing the democratic process by executive orders that did not require Congressional approval, and through the appointment of unelected czars to head up federal task forces. One such task force, which demanded that all air travelers go through naked body scanners or endure invasive groping, had recently expanded its powers to include ID inspections of commuters on local roads and shoppers in the malls, with impromptu checkpoints. An unavoidable, ever-present fear seemed to be coming upon the land. The nations predominant discount store, W-Mart, had erected at-screen video monitors, looping a message from the Homeland Security Czar, instructing all community members to report the slightest suspicion of domestic terrorism. The major media news outlets disseminated the alarm with 24 hour reporting of insane gunmen upset that bankrupt state governments had defaulted on their bonds and other such stories would open re, willy-nilly, in grocery stores. In many ways, the safe and predictable American society of the past was becoming unhinged. Alex longed for the days when the world was a much kinder place; a time where, if you worked hard, paid your taxes, and were a good community citizen, people pretty much left you alone. But the world had become a much more dangerous place since September 11, 2001. And this was why being on the Agencys watch-list now consumed him with so much fear. At any time, he believed, a dark, windowless van could approach him, and he could be snatched from the streets, never to be heard of again. A sudden realization created within him a spontaneous chuckle, which managed to soften his tension. It was such irony that those damned monks had beaten the Agency to the punch when it came to kidnapping him. He wondered what old Nicodemus was up to this morning. Had he too, been paid a visit by the law? What was it he had said last night, just before he had rounded that corner with Monk? Now you know why you do what you do. What exactly did that mean?

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He continued to drift along through a residential neighborhood, working his way back to the church, which was a fteen minute walk from his house. Changing directions from time-to-time in a haphazard manner revealed on several occasions what he thought was the same grey, black-windowed SUV. Snakes! After nearing a point of hyperventilation several times, he used mental discipline to convince himself that there really was no sense in getting distraught. Perhaps sanity would be best maintained if he made a game of it. But pessimism began to take a rmer grip as he considered how any of this could result in a pleasant outcome. The secretive Nicodemus and Monk claimed they needed him. The Agency was suspicious of Nicodemus, and therefore suspicious of him. He hated his job. He was lonely. The downward spiral continued until he was beginning to pant at the prospect of spending a few aimless hours discovering new female, online talent to add to his collection. Unwilling to jeopardize his standing with the church, he quickly steered away from its direction, knowing that if he entered its doors, it would only be minutes before he was lling the spare thumb-drive in his desk with illicit megabytes from the church secretarys computer. Driven by his hunger for comfort, he set his sights on the convenience store up ahead. Something rich and decadent should do the trick. He was about to pay for ve bars of milk chocolate along with a bag of chips for good measure, when he noticed the cashier looking at him nervously. Theyre looking for you, she whispered, shing around in the pocket of her green apron. This man, she held out the card to him, said I was to call him the next time I saw you. Are you in some kind of trouble? Alex looked around the store quickly, not wanting further attention. They were alone. He shook his head sheepishly, No, Im not in any kind of trouble. It seems the Agency is interested in one of my congregants who had me deliver some groceries from here. I dont really know how I got roped into it. The stout cashier leaned over the counter, exposing an ample view of cleavage above her v-neck sweater. With dramatic, large eyes, she continued in hushed tones, You dont want me to call him do you? I wont tell him if you dont want me to. Perhaps some women were attracted to the criminal element after all, Alex mused. He guessed that if he had consented, she would have welcomed him instantly as her naughty boy. In his current moment of weakness, she struck him as pretty, in a big girl kind of way. But such philandering would have high costs; costs he had never been willing to pay. The virtual ladies of the World Wide Web came much cheaper. He shrugged-off her come-on with measured disinterest, You can call him if you want to. Ive already spoken with him.

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She took the rejection in stride. Just thought you should know, she said quietly, pulling away while sliding his purchases into the bag. Take care of yourself. Ill say a prayer for you. Since the early morning visit, the Agency was certainly making its presence known in his life. He wondered how long it would be before they interviewed his co-workers. It would not go well for him if they did. The senior pastor was pretty thin-skinned when it came to potential threats which could damage the churchs upstanding reputation. Hastily, he unwrapped the chocolate, taking a satisfying bite, while meandering toward the direction of home. Screw them all! The church; the Agency; and Nicodemus. The jury was still out on Monk. There was an indistinct quality about the man which made him hesitant to lump him in with the rest. And then there was Meghan. Spending time with her again had been unsettling to him. She had always been a irt; a desirable girl who understood that covetousness was ignited by remaining unobtainable. She had at one time, happily entertained the affections of any man who was willing to spend the time and money, assuming he didnt have the audacity to require anything in return. That summer now years ago he must have caught her in a moment of particular vulnerability. Only weeks prior, someone had stolen what she had been unwilling to give. In the midst of that violation, her over-protective, dominant, ever-spoiling daddy had been unable to be her rescuer. He supposed it had been natural for her to gravitate toward him; a man of God, who seemed quite harmless. Had he known about the rape, he wouldnt taken it as far as he had. He probably wouldnt have even gotten started. Baggage was expensive, and he remained reluctant, or incapable, of investing much into anyone. But she had changed. She was a woman now; all woman. Meghans job had her meeting people all day. Was there a man in her life? If there wasnt, would she be interested in rekindling some of the old fun with him? Could he really forfeit the job that dened him in the community, all for the sake of pursuing a girl? Maybe the senior pastors would look upon it differently, now that a few years had passed and she was not living at home. Probably not. But what the hell. No... she would no longer be interested in him. He sulked at the unforeseen realization that things had changed. She was a woman, who knew what she wanted in life, and was willing to make difcult, sacricial choices to make it happen. Did it make him any less of a man if he wouldnt pay the price? Was he simply an adult pretender, stuck in some infantile Freudian phase? Had he merely remained a little boy, unwilling to leave the comfort of his sandbox full of playthings?

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He cycled through anger, self-condemnation, and self-pity a few more times before he stopped dead in his tracks. What was the matter with him? What had he just done!? The proof! All of the evidence he had been recording during his times with Nicodemus was now sitting unprotected on his laptop at home. The laptop case had no doubt been been noticed at the edge of the kitchen table when he was being interviewed by the agent. The spooks, watching him from the house across the eld knew exactly where he was, and how much time they had. He began to run; chocolate, now the furthest thing from his mind. If they found the audio recordings, they would have them decrypted in no time, knowing that he had lied to them. A grey SUV accelerated, one block south, rolling on a parallel path to the sprinting pastor. One of its occupants was on the radio. It was time to get out. Alexander Putnam would be back home in ve minutes.

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Chapter 14 J
ack Grimsby was in a foul mood. There was the anticipated frustration and anger in his wifes voice when he had called home. His children, having been told for an entire week that papa would be home to play on Saturday, were dejected. He was heartbroken to hear the confusion in their voices. He needed a shower. He desperately wanted sleep. He loathed another millisecond with The Duke, who now accompanied him in his company car, that again reeked of toxic smoke and stale coffee. To quit the Agency today, would come very easily. But there was the future to think about. The country was entering its third year of deep recession, and jobs were scarce. That the mainstream media news outlets were economic Pollyannas didnt fool him for a minute. He knew that nine percent unemployment was really closer to twenty-three percent, and that it would be foolish for him to give up a federal paycheck, benets, and pension during a time of such prolonged economic uncertainty. He had his family to think about. Dozens of times, he had seen the defeated faces of countless middle class parents, toddlers in tow, lining up at the government kiosk in W-Mart to receive federal handouts of the basic necessities. As they would patiently shufe along, briey stepping to one side to endure the biometric scan, Jack would often nd himself looking the other way, perceiving their embarrassment and shame. By recalling this sober picture in his mind, he found enough inspiration to keep him centered and stolid, in the squalid company of The Duke. Turning the unmarked vehicle down another mansion-lined street, he wondered what Putnam II would be like. Residents in this neighborhood lived a privileged reality; they wouldnt think twice about dropping a thousand dollars for a plate at a political fundraiser. Having no concerns about money provided them with the time to remain focused upon more important things: their rank in the national pecking order. His thoughts were interrupted by The Dukes cell phone. Yeah, the senior agent answered abruptly. He listened intently for almost a minute, before responding, No, you did the right thing putting them in another place. Thats ne. Youve installed the call home virus on his home computer? Perfect. Contact me in another couple of hours. Grimsby held his tongue, unwilling to show his curiosity. Lucky for him, The Duke felt like talking.

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Talbott is scum, he muttered, while lighting his third cigarette of the trip. When our men were bugging AP3s apartment, they found a few active transmitters that werent ours. High quality stuff too; made in Israel. We just left them running, and put ours in other places. Why keep Talbott in the loop? Shouldnt we have just swept them out? Grimsby thought out loud. But that wouldnt help us establish the connection between Talbott and Putnam. If we killed their devices, they would know we were onto them, and we would end up losing another vulnerable location where information could be gathered. The sickening European cigarette smoke began lling the air. We did gain another huge bargaining chip, should we need it, though. Youre sure Putnam is a pastor? Jack nodded, keeping his eye on the road. The Duke chuckled darkly. He lived to acquire leverage through dirty secrets. His computer is chalk-full of porn. Mind you, our man says its like the mags youd hide under your mattress when you were a teenager pretty tame stuff not like some of the dirty freaks on Capitol Hill weve had to lean on. But here you have pastor, he held out his right hand, and here you have porn, he held out his left hand, the embers from his cigarette just inches from Grimsbys face. One of these things is not like the other, The Duke laughed, and that boy is going to talk to us. I can guarantee you that! Here we go again, Grimsby thought, registering the unconcealed glee in his partners voice, wondering if the Agency was going to play it straight on this one. He was cognizant of two separate occasions where bad things had occurred to uncooperative whistle-blowers. Both had refused to play ball with certain inuential politicians who carried enough clout to get the Agency involved. Was this going to end up being a similar event? In the rst case, the Agency bullied an Internet Service Provider to access a State Attorney Generals personal browsing history and past emails. From there, they uncovered electronic proof of his solicitation of several high class call-girls. They threatened to release this evidence if he didnt call off his dogs, who were investigating Wall Street derivatives scammers. That these stock exchange traders were colluding with Washington heavy-hitters was what eventually cost the Attorney General his job and his family. The second case was even more tragic. It involved a prominent federal food and drug safety bureaucrat, who was about to disclose to the media, several years of secretly gathered evidence suggesting government complicity in releasing dangerous chemicals and radioactive isotopes into the water supplies of three major U.S. cities. When the scientist became insubordinate with his superiors, who claimed this was privileged

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information, agents hacked into his work computer, manufacturing evidence of a kiddyporn xation. In a dramatic event, well-attended by the media, agents stormed the bureaucrats ofcebuilding, creating fabulous footage of ack-jacketed, federal personnel carrying a computer tower, and boxes lled with porn-proof. Jack had been assigned to sift through those boxes full of evidence. They simply contained the documentation the federal worker was going to release to the public. After the contents of the boxes were categorized, they magically disappeared. Two months later, out on bail and abandoned by his wife and four children, the whistle-blowing bureaucrat blew his brains out. As he stopped the car at the gate blocking Putnam IIs driveway, he wondered about the fate of Alexander Putnam III. He had interviewed him, and this personal connection would only make corrupt injustice all the more difcult to ignore. Would he sit on the sidelines while another life was destroyed? What choice did he have? Holding his credentials up for the video camera to see, the gate slowly rolled open, revealing beautifully manicured gardens even for the late time of year and a stately southern-styled manor, ensconced with wide, white columns. A thin, well-kept, African servant, wearing white gloves, opened the door after one ring. He was positioned centrally in the doorway, sending the unmistakable signal that they were not welcomed. What is your business here gentlemen? he asked curtly. The Duke, held up his badge with authority saying, Were here to ask Mr. Putnam a few questions. I trust hes home? The servant did not respond. He simply shut the door, leaving the two agents wondering what to do next. Just as Grimsby raised his st to knock on the door, it opened. Mr. Putnam does not wish to be disturbed at this time. He says, that unless you have a warrant or a subpoena, he does not wish to speak with you. I can, however, give you the phone number of his attorney. Tell him it is concerning his son, Agent Grimsby spoke. It is a matter of signicant importance that cannot wait. Again, the door closed, and two agents waited impatiently in the cold. A third time, the servant appeared, still standing in the center of the doorway, blocking entry. Hes not interested, he reported. Whatever business you have with the son, is his business alone. The father is not to be brought into the affairs of the son.

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Grimsby thought The Duke was going explode into one of his usual tirades. Instead, he handed the servant one of his business cards, and spoke with uncharacteristic restraint. You tell Mr. Putnam, that The Duke is at his front door, and would be obliged to have a moment with him. We are associates, if you get my meaning. The black waif of a man nodded, while shutting the door. You and Putnam are associates? When did that happen? wondered Grimsby unbelievingly. We belong to the same fraternal club in town, The Duke said easily. You know, one of those places where men gather to eat, drink, and do good things for the community. Jack Grimsby had no further questions. He was stunned silent, not knowing what was more peculiar: the fact that The Duke had failed to mention his previous connection with Putnam II; or that he belonged to a do-gooder club. Both were inconceivable. The door opened, and the servant stepped to one side. Gentlemen, please allow me to take your coats. Mr. Putnam is in his study; down the hall, third door on the left. Never underestimate The Duke, thought Grimsby, as he walked down the polished marble oor, his shoes echoing in the silent hallway. Following the senior agent, he entered a modest-sized, wood-paneled chamber. On the right side was a long boardroom table, stretching out below a substantial at-screen video monitor. A very professional-looking animated logo for Putnam and Associates, lobbyists extraordinaire, looped on the screen. Grimsbys eyes then shifted to the left side of the room, where behind a monstrous desk, littered with paper, sat a silver-haired man of large build, feet up, smoking a cigar. It all seemed rather contrived, as if to accentuate an atmosphere of self-importance. The Duke extended a hand, which the older Putnam caught as he swung to his feet. Thanks for meeting with us, Alexander. I know you are a busy man, so we wont be but a minute. It was strange for Grimsby to watch The Duke grovel to any man. Stranger still, was the seemingly well-practiced manner with which each shook the others hand, thumb pointed forward, on the eshy part between the thumb and index nger. A secret handshake; he grinned wryly. Strange indeed! Both agents were then directed to high-backed chairs by the servant, who then inquired if anyone would like something to drink. Putnam II and The Duke ordered scotch, while Grimsby settled for coffee. Alexander Putnam II was a man of dominant size, personality, and manner. He was fastidiously groomed: his pale, age-creased face was whiskerless and was as soft as

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his manicured, jewelry-adorned hands. The belching cigar, clenched in his teeth at the side of his mouth was the only thing that seemed out of place. When they were seated, he moved to the front of the oversized desk, where he casually leaned, looking down at his two unexpected guests with challenging blue eyes. Grimsby sensed a deadness behind the piercing gaze. He wondered if it was a coincidence that this was a characteristic shared with The Duke. Now whats this I hear about my son being in trouble with the law? Putnam II asked, staring intently at The Duke. That boy couldnt kill a y. Hes not in trouble with the law, sir, interjected Agent Grimsby, were concerned that he may be involved in something that has him in over his head. Has he contacted you in the past couple of weeks? Putnam II didnt try to conceal his look of disgust. He extinguished the fat cigar in an ash tray at the corner of the desk, rubbing it out dramatically. Looking in the direction of Grimsby he instructed, Listen agent. I dont know you. I only deal with people I know. I asked Duke here a question because I know him. I expect Duke to answer, and with that he turned his face toward the senior agent. Grimsby caught his breath, and waited for the reworks. There were many occasions when he had heard The Duke speak in like manner, but never, had he witnessed the senior agent take a verbal undressing like this one. But the reworks never came. Theres no reason to be rude, Alexander, commented The Duke somberly. Your boy has gotten himself connected in with George Talbott somehow. Talbotts now made contact with him at least twice. Initially, we thought it was to get at you. But apparently not. Talbott and my son? Putnam II said skeptically. What kind of drugs are guys at the Agency smoking? My son has a greater likelihood of being struck by a bolt of lightening than having dealings with George Talbott! Theyre not even on the same radar! And for the record, I wish he was struck by lightening! Might knock some sense into him. Hes a disgrace. Suddenly feeling lucky, Grimsby shrugged deeper into his chair, quietly sipping coffee, grateful to only to be an observer in this ugly exchange. But that would not be for long. But Alexander! The Duke exclaimed in a high pitched, strained voice, barely managing to hold it together. Talbott is under investigation for domestic terrorism, a fact of which I am certain you are well apprised. How can you be certain he is not angling to take you down with him? Enough! Putnam II roared. Duke, tell your friend here to wait for you in the car. You and I will continue this conversation alone.

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The Duke glanced at Grimsby, who unhesitatingly got up and found his way to the hall, where he was trailed to the front door by the servant. Before exiting, the agent asked on a whim, Do you like working here? The thin, black man in white gloves smiled and replied in a tidy African-accented voice: The money is very good sir. Good enough to put up with that? he indicated down the hall with a tip of his head. Yes sir, he said it again, ashing his perfect, enormous, white teeth. As Grimsby opened the door, he chanced one last question. They say they belong to the same fraternal club. Could you tell me its name? The servant silently shook his head at rst, but then revealed, I cannot say the name sir, but this city has been built by them. Their temple is a square. They own the city, sir. Their magic runs very deep. And with that he closed the door, leaving Grimsby thoroughly confused. He recorded what the servant had said in his notepad, and returned to the car where he was relishing the thought of a nap. He chuckled to himself, running the last ten minutes through his mind. It had been enjoyable watching The Duke take it like a scolded puppy. Why had he been so afraid of the man these past few months? Turns out, he was mortal after all. His moment of enjoyment faded as troubling questions began to dominate his mind, putting an end to the prospect of catching any sleep. Why did Putnam II hold his son under so much contempt? How were the The Duke and Putnam so well connected? There was an unexpected familiarity between them which spoke of an established history. What was this fraternal organization who owned Washington D.C., whose magic ran deep? Was that merely an African way of saying that they were extremely powerful? How did Putnam II know anything about the Talbott investigation? It was not even an ofcial investigation; it had been more of a shing expedition. And lastly, where did Putnam III t into all of this? ***** Winded, Alex rounded the corner of the back porch, fumbling with his keys in a state of panic. He hastily unlocked the door, and sprang to the kitchen table, where the laptop bag lay, exactly as he had left it. He put his hand against the bottom of the computer and was relieved to nd that it was cool. Perhaps it had been overlooked.

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Moving to the bedroom, he stretched a hand below his desk, where the tower to his home computer sat. Running the back of his hand against the housing covering the CPU, he was certain he felt warmth. Yes, this machine had been running only minutes before he had arrived home. He was sure of it. There was no hesitation in what he did next. Opening a drawer, he fumbled among various pens and paper clips searching for the operating system installation CD. Once located, he loaded it into the slot and rebooted his computer from the disk. Then he initiated a security wipe of the machine that, while taking hours to complete, would render his hard drive unreadable to even the most capable government technician. Everything of value was on his laptop machine that he used exclusively for work. His home computer had been reserved for the simple tasks of web surng and as a digital storage facility for all of the ladies who were worthy of being saved. Assigning a division of labor to his computers was a symbol of his methodically compartmentalized life. For if Jesus were ever to meet up with Miss September, the fantasy would be over. With his desktop computer busily zeroing out his personal collection, he focused his attention on the laptop computer in the kitchen. He drew it from the case and ipped open the screen, wakening it from sleep mode. Perceiving that nothing was out of order, he sorted the tension from his shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. Running his ngers through his hair, he stretched back his neck until his eyes were unconsciously fastened on the blinking LED light of the kitchen smoke detector. It was then that something reective caught his eye. What the... He sprang back from the table so quickly, he almost knocked the laptop to the oor. Standing tiptoe on a chair, he carefully removed the detector from its mooring, lowering it to the table where he pried at the casing until it popped open. A sticky substance held a chip, the size of dime, to the circuit board of the detector. Connected to the chip was a short, exible wire, capped by an optical lens. Alex felt a wave of claustrophobic anxiety crash upon him, as every paranoid bone in his body awakened. Instinctively, he clawed at the silverware drawer, drawing out a butter knife, which he used to smash the electronic bug until it was in several pieces. He was shaking now; nerves and adrenaline stimulating involuntary trembling. In shock, he wandered to the bedroom, where he stared blankly at the progress bar on his computer monitor indicating that 3% of his hard drive had been erased. His beauties... had he foolishly destroyed them again? The cycle would begin in another few months, but until then, what would he do? Drinking was out of the question. His equilibrium was still slightly off from the brandy mixed with whatever drugs the monks had put into him. Perhaps he should be crying out to God. He was a pastor, after all. But he had done that many times before, and it never seemed to accomplish anything but make him feel

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like a blubbering crybaby. He said a cold, emotionless, little prayer similar to the sentiments hed say to placate the time-consuming whiners in his congregation in order to cover his bases. Maybe God was punishing him for being such a hypocritical little bastard. Finally, he collapsed face-down on his bed, in an attempt to block everything out. He guessed that if the spooks had hidden one bug in his apartment, there were likely several more. He remained on his stomach, not about to give them the satisfaction of seeing his face. Out of simple self-preservation, he fell into a deep, dark, sleep. ***** Is he dead? asked the agent, staring at the unmoving gure in the video monitor, while jamming french fries into his mouth. Thats the way he looked before I went to get supper. Hes still alive, said another. I saw him twitch a minute ago. Must have taken a lot out of him, pounding the crap out of that transmitter! The funniest thing about it, was that it wasnt one of ours! There he is. Hes moving now boss. Better get the boys ready, in case he tries to bolt. ***** Alex awoke in the semi-darkness, disoriented and confused. The light emanating from his computer monitor brought him back to reality. Sixty-three percent of his hard drive had now been erased. It was still Saturday night, then. Turning on the light in the bathroom, he scanned every inch of wall and ceiling, to see what kind of perverts he was up against. He pulled pictures off walls, removed the fan and light cover, and ran his ngers through the window curtains. Condent that the spooks had at least a thimble-full of decency, he turned on the shower and undressed, placing the streamlined cell phone on the vanity. Was the phone his lifeline? Or just another way to keep him tied into this diabolic game? He began doubting Nicodemus again. Showered and dressed, cell phone securely in his jeans pocket, and laptop hanging from a shoulder strap, he locked the back door, and scrambled into his Jeep. Turning a tight circle in the driveway, he squealed out amidst the busy weekend trafc, which was heading downtown to kick-off some wild nightlife. The local state college students were

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a boon for Camden Heights; the economic downturn had not yet quenched their capacity for consuming large quantities of alcohol. Tonight he would be among them, Alex thought. Pastor or not, he was going to get stinking drunk. Well, maybe he wouldnt be among them, and maybe he wouldnt get stinking drunk. Tomorrow was Sunday, after all; an exciting day of choruses, prayers, previously heard sermons, and inspiring small talk. As much as he wanted to free-fall off the wagon, the thought of his fathers told you so held him captive to moderation. He would have to settle for rye and cola in the privacy of his own bathroom. He kept with the ow of trafc, focused on his rearview mirror, then lucked out on a yellow light. No cars followed. Intentionally keeping to the most trafcked streets, he cut his way through town to a liquor store far enough away that his chances of running into a member of his congregation would be slight. Parking amidst a cluster of cars away from the store lights, he slouched in his seat for a couple of minutes, adjusting his mirrors in search of pursuers. Condent he hadnt been followed, he threw on a baseball cap, hooked the laptop case over his shoulder, and walked to the store entrance, hunched up in his jacket like a criminal. As the bell jingled at the door, he pulled the cap lower, better covering his face. If anyone recognized him now, his job would be over. The church all but ignored lying, cheating, stealing, and oftentimes had even endorsed gossip. But it seemed the res of Hades would be stoked any time a man sought out a drink. Tonight, they could all go to hell. His ngers eased along the slender bottles lled with caramel colored nectar. Finding what he was looking for, he was about to pay the cashier when he paused. Who was that girl perusing red wine? Her back was toward him, but there was something familiar about the wave of her shiny long, black hair. Was it Meghan? Moving closer, he concealed the rye among some nearby bottles of Zinfandel, watching intently. Was she by herself? What was she doing in this part of town? Perhaps she was making supper for a special somebody, and was out shopping for the nishing touches? Should he conceal himself, and let her go about her business? She chose her bottle and turned, spotting him instantly. Her eyes betrayed uncertainty at rst, as her mind raced to identify why he would be in such a place, but then she relaxed, revealing subtle humor. What are you doing, Alex? Stalking me? Dumbfounded at his sudden discovery, he stood there bumbling for awhile, hands in his pockets. He was struck speechless by her genuine smile and the condence with which she challenged him.

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Requiring a diversion from the bright red heat emerging in his cheeks, he reached among the Zinfandel, and pulled out the bottle. Shamefaced, he admitted, I needed a drink. Its been a long week. Approaching him slowly, she gently took the bottle from his hands, studying it, considering its signicance. Setting the rye back down among the bottles of pink wine, she looked up into his face with searching kindness. I live around the corner from here, and theres some supper on the stove. Why dont you come back to my place and share this bottle of wine with me? Speechless, and overwhelmed with emotion, he simply nodded while he turned away. Could it be that God was giving him a second chance?

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Chapter 15 T
he second story studio apartment, located above a busy Italian restaurant, was sparsely furnished, yet cozy. Unlike his own home, it revealed the warmth of someone who cared. There were pictures on the walls, color coordinated pillows on the sofa, and place mats on the table. As they shared a small meal of linguine and salad, little was spoken, until the wine began to break down the awkwardness. Im surprised to nd you living on this side of town, Alex commented. Must be a long commute to work. It only takes ten to fteen minutes. Its a small price to pay to keep my parents out of my business, she remarked, placing the dirty dishes in the sink. Relling both glasses, Meghan moved to the couch, where she sat cross-legged. Patting the cushion, she invited him to join her. He chose the far end, maintaining a steady gaze at the pretty features of her face, intent on remaining a gentleman. A beautiful woman, warmth, and wine. It could be a deadly combination. Was he changing for the better? Or was it simply post-traumatic stress disorder after all he had been through in the past few days? Penny for your thoughts, she inquired lightly, with a sparkle in her emerald green eyes. We havent spoken in almost two years. Then you come to me all wild and crazy, inviting me to dinner, without following through. Next, I catch you buying booze in a liquor store. Then, you sit way down there, she indicated the far end of the couch. Whats going on, Alex? He wondered how much he should share. Would it jeopardize her safety? He was fairly condent that no one knew where he was. During the brief walk from the liquor store to her apartment, he had done his best to blend in with the busyness of the street, keeping a short distance behind her. Nothing good could come from getting her involved. Yet, even as he made the decision to remain tightlipped, there rose up a great desperation in him; a yearning to share his predicament with someone. In the absence of a response, Meghan continued. Spending that short time with you last week stirred up a hornets nest in me. After the horrible event which took place my last month of college, only to have you reject me so completely when you were under pressure by the church, I turned cold on the inside, wanting nothing to do with men. Not my father, not you, not anyone. I set my goals, and put my heart and soul into saving as much money as possible, doing my best to avoid emotional pain. Then you called.

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I was excited at rst, because being a religionless nun is a lonely existence. But then, when it seemed that you were only on the prowl, I ashed back to when I was assaulted, and I felt its lth on me all over again. Dont get me wrong, she said reassuringly, youre not the only one who has ever created that response. No matter how modestly I dress for work, I can sense when bank customers are leering, and it only increases my bitterness. Its crazy, because before I was raped, I enjoyed when the boys looked at me. My girlfriends and I would dress to draw them in. It was a thrill to stomp on their hearts, she laughed. But after we saw each other last week, a light bulb turned on for me. Ive become an island: a bitter, cold, calculating, untouchable bitch. I dont want to grow old being that woman, Alex. So I have resolved to forgive you, just as I have forgiven the prick at school that raped me. Only, she smiled warmly, I dont think youre a prick. Im sorry, he blurted, choking out the words. Why were his emotions so raw? Get it together man! I confess! I am a hypocritical pig! Im sorry, he repeated, trying to nd more words to string together that would adequately express his true remorse. Like a scared animal, an involuntary shaking began to ripple through his body. Dear, dear, Meghan said maternally. She moved toward him, pulling him close, rubbing his arm sympathetically. What is going on with you? As calm slowly returned to Alex, he deliberated whether he was unwinding because of the warm comfort he felt in her arms, the sweet hint of perfume emanating from the delicate lines of her neck, or the softness of her cashmere sweater brushing against the side of his face. It was probably all three. What kind of a man was he? A damsel in distress had just shared her terror, and he was nding his own comfort in her arms? Some white knight he was. What was wrong with him? Consciously, he drove his wayward emotions deeper. He could deal with them later; when he was alone. He gave her knee a squeeze and slowly pulled away, looking intently upon the kindness of her face. Meghan, he said contemplatively, the past few weeks have made me realize that I am a hypocrite of the worst kind. Not only because I dont practice what I preach; but because to use the words of a new acquaintance I am glib with the broken lives of others. I am a selsh prick; my life revolves around what brings me comfort. It was odd, he thought, how the words being shaped from his mouth were a revelation to him. For once, words were not nding their origination in the craftiness of his brain, but seemed to be owing from someplace deeper inside. Was it his heart?

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Im sorry for being glib with your life. When you came home from college that summer, I was xated on the fun of it all. When your parents and the church began making waves, it wasnt fun for me any more, and I ran the other way. That was wrong. Please forgive me. I already have, she said, putting a hand on his. I had to forgive you. Loneliness was creeping in, and in my bitterness, I was beginning to consider unhealthy alternatives. I know what you mean, said Alex caught up in the momentum of mutual confession. I am ashamed to say that in my loneliness, I have been caught up in unhealthy alternatives myself. Is that so? Meghan raised an eyebrow. Have you taken to drinking rye? she giggled, or is it something worse? Seems to me you super pastors at the First United Congregational Church couldnt get away with much in this town. People talk. Shame now pulsed warm blood to his face, and he looked away. She had been so open and vulnerable with him; should he gamble by baring his soul? Or would she reject him? He chose to remain concealed. No. I havent taken to drinking. This was the rst time Ive turned to the bottle, he laughed, uncomfortably. Subtly changing the subject, he added, Sometimes I think there is something broken in me; like theres a wild beast inside that constantly needs to be fed. The worst part is, the more I feed it, the hungrier it becomes. She nodded sympathetically; warmth in her eyes. Brushing a wisp of hair from her face, she concurred, I thought getting out from under my parents thumb to accomplish my goals through the strength of my own determination was going to be enough. Theres still an emptiness in it, somehow. Until now, I have kept my nose to the grindstone, saving money and living frugally, believing that the day I reached my goals, everything in me would be complete. But now, Im not so sure that would be the outcome. What do you think? she wondered, taking another sip from her glass. He knew it then. He was going to tell her. If she would welcome the information, he would tell her everything. Well... almost everything. He told her then about Nicodemus and Monk, and how they had hacked into his personal life, in an attempt to convince him to write the old mans story. He told her about the trip in the van and the monks; about the Agency men, and their pursuit. Meghan remained silent through it all, widening her eyes occasionally, until he had nished. Youll forgive me Alexander, she said coolly, but I nd much of what youre telling me to be beyond belief. Why are they coming after you? Did they follow you here? He shook his head. No, I lost them in trafc on my way to the liquor store, and I kept a low prole on the walk over here. Were safe.

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Suddenly, she smiled brightly, punching him in the arm while saying, Alex Putnam, I think you are certiably crazy! That was a pretty convincing tale. I am almost scared enough to ask you to spend the night to keep me safe! Almost! But not quite! You think I am full of crap? he asked, springing to his feet. I have proof that everything I am telling you is true! Really? she said teasingly. You know, you had me going there for a minute with the old man visiting you at the church. But your kidnapping was the icing on the cake for me. You ought to be a story teller, Alex. You were so convincing! Frustrated with her unbelief, he fumbled open the laptop case and pulled out the machine. Clicking madly, he retrieved the buried digital folder titled, Greybeard. He chose an audio le, decrypted it with his password, and let it play. For hours, they huddled over the computer, intently listening to the secret recordings in hushed silence. Each spoken word galvanized the predicament for Alex, while Meghan, who was initially amused by Nicodemus candor, began grappling with the enormous gravity of the situation. At the conclusion of the nal recording, she broke the thoughtful silence, wondering: What are you going to do? If this is real, it seems to me that you are in way over your head. Yeah, he admitted. I have been kind of freaking out. A bottle of rye sort of makes sense now, doesnt it? It makes sense if you want to bury your head in the sand. But I dont think you can run away from this one. Either Nicodemus and Monk are playing you, in which case youre going to need to cooperate with the authorities; or they are telling the truth, in which case you are in serious danger. I should have left you out of this, said Alex, remorseful that he had selshly alleviated his fears onto an innocent person. That she was so lovely only heightened his shame. What kind of a man did such things? A real man, who was governed by a code of chivalry, would have ridden in to sweep the girl off her feet only after he had slain the dragon. Yet again, I am so sorry, he hung his head. Bringing you into my troubles was a stupid thing to do. Meghan ran a soft hand over the slump of his back, leaning low to look into his face. Alexander Putnam, she said gently, you arent the Lone Ranger. No person was ever meant to be an island. No one will ever reach perfection in this life. Thats why we need to stop trying so hard to prove ourselves to others. Ill take the broken-down, humble, saying-sorry-every-ve-minutes Alex, over the slick, charismatic, sweet-talking

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jerk, every time. This type of change is good. It means that were growing up, she caught his eyes, and he held her gaze. What a waste his life had been, spending thousands of hours ogling unobtainable, airbrushed girls, when this angelic woman had been here all along. Shifting his eyes to the oor, he determined that this was a time to be decisive. He made a conscious effort to push away all thoughts of doubt and self-pity, lifted his head, and stood up from the couch. Thank you, he said, running his ngers through her dark hair. Youll need to pretend you never heard any of this. Its time I let you get some sleep. When I get this thing solved, Ill come back. Thank you for taking another chance on me. Her ngers slid lightly up his arm, and easily tugged him back to the couch. Parting her lips, they connected with his in a moment of intensity. Then with hands on both sides of his face, she momentarily pulled away, saying: No more pretending. From here on in, everything is real.

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Chapter 16 S
tartled by the orange glow of sunrise beaming through the second story window, Alex jolted slightly, struggling to get his bearings. The stiffness gripping his neck and back were soothed with one look at the woman resting snugly in his arms. For a moment he studied her peaceful face, long-lashes, leading down to a petite nose and full lips. Those wonderful lips. He tried shifting a little to look at his watch, and she murmured something, cuddling in closer. It was seven twenty-ve. That gave him a full hour-and-a-half to get to work. But then came the painful realization that today was Sunday! That meant an eight oclock start! After the rst brush of their lips, they had embraced: legs intertwined; her head upon his chest. Sleeping the night through, unmoved from that position, had taken its toll upon his limbs, rendering them less than responsive. After an awkward extraction from the couch, he scribbled a quick note expressing his thanks, and that he would call her later. With a quick peck to her forehead, he gathered up the laptop and scrambled down the stairs behind the restaurant, sprinting to the Jeep. He was going to be late. But exhilaration vanquished any anxiety he felt. The sun warmed his skin. Fresh, fall air lled his lungs. Migratory birds were chirping happily. It was a magnicent moment. Charitably, his mind glazed over the more cynical reality that such moments were always nite. Dark clouds were never far away. He sped through the empty streets, and upon reaching home, ran a steaming shower that would be sure to wreak havoc on any newly planted devices. He hung up his church clothes in the same hot mist, knowing there would be no time to press out any wrinkles. Ten minutes late, Alex rushed down the hallway to his ofce, hiding the laptop computer case behind the garbage can tucked under his desk. Bumping his head as he emerged, he was surprised to see the senior pastor standing in his doorway. Running late this morning are you? he asked, leaning against the door jam nonchalantly. Yeah. I hate when I forget to set my alarm, Alex replied honestly. Sorry about that. Randall Casper sat down in a chair across from his junior associate and slapped a copy of the local newspaper on the desk.

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He was a short man with thinning hair and an unhealthy complexion; placing him a decade beyond his 44 years of age. Naturally quick-witted, he prided himself in keeping the church laughing, relying upon self-deprecating humor for the biggest guffaws. In seminary, he had learned three rules which he now used to steer the church: ministry is a marathon, so work only a little bit each day; people can be slow-witted dominators of time, so it is best to limit their access; and brief, light-hearted sermons help everyone to be in a good mood. Happy people spend more money. Big news, buddy! touted Randall, leaning forward in the chair, attening the fold on the front page of the newspaper. Really? Do tell, Alex said unconsciously, his mind preoccupied with visions of a pretty girl, sleeping on a couch. I was reading the local paper last week, and came across an article describing a dispute between the Camden Heights and Filmore re departments. Seems there was an accident right on the borderline between the two towns, and Filmore responded rst. After the fact, they determined the accident happened in Camden Heights township, so Filmore wants to be reimbursed. As you know, things are nancially tight everywhere, and Camden Heights said they werent going to pay. So Filmore was threatening a lawsuit to recoup a lousy six hundred bucks. And this was where we came in, said Randall triumphantly. I met with both re chiefs for breakfast last week, and shared with them how unfortunate it was that our two towns could not act more Christian-like with one another. I told them, the church would like to lead by example, picking up the tab. We got word to Bill Emery whos in advertising at the paper he and his wife regularly attend the second Sunday service and he shared the story with the editorial department. Check out this story. Page one, pal! You cant buy publicity this good! he exclaimed excitedly. Alex went through the motions of reading the story. The church came off like a peacemaker, modeling the highroad for the two nancially strapped, squabbling towns. No doubt, they would be seeing some fresh faces today. Not bad, Alex said nodding with approval. That was pretty impressive coverage! Retrieving the paper, Randall popped to his feet, ready to spread the news with the others. By the way, he said on his way out the door. Id like you to present the plans youve developed to create more meaningful relationships among these 900-plus strangers we currently have in our congregation. Plan on sharing them at our staff meeting on Tuesday. Who knows, after today it might just be one thousand! he said giddily, as he trotted down the hallway.

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Alex nodded, hopeful that this presentation would be more successful than the last. After the Meghan debacle, he had been shifted from youth, to being the pastor of discipleship ministries. In this capacity, he was supposed to solve the mega-church dilemma: how to make a sea of Sunday attenders feel like they belonged to a small, meaningful community. He formed a committee among the laypeople of the church who had leadership potential, and submitted their suggestions to the staff who were less than enthusiastic. Most of the recommendations would require some nancial investment by the church, and with parking lots to be paved, and re departments to be appeased, the resources just werent available. He was about to make his way to the foyer to begin greeting people as they arrived, when Patricia poked her head in the doorway. Mind if I come in? she asked derisively. Alex looked at his watch, in an attempt to head off a drawn-out conversation. Ive got about a minute, he said, shifting in his chair. The pantsuit-clad assistant pastor, was listed as second in command at the church. Unofcially, she ran the show. Alex had learned the hard way not to cross the viper. Early on, he had innocently sought her advice off-the-record on the best ways to cope with Randalls inclination toward disorganization. She had listened, had given what seemed to be level-headed guidance, then promptly cut him off at the knees, by sharing the conversation with Randall, injecting her very own venomous spin. From that time forward, he by-passed her, refusing to give recognition to the queen bee of the church. To say that the relationship was now strained, would be an understatement. I had a lovely supper with Dwayne and the kids last night, she buzzed harmlessly. A beautiful restaurant with exquisite food. Just a lovely Christian specimen, muttered Alex to himself. Thats wonderful, Patricia. She then raised her head slightly in the air, unable to contain a sneer as she continued, Perhaps youve been there before? It was an Italian restaurant, on the other side of town. What was it called... she looked off into space as if searching for the name. Ah, yes... it was Carmellos. Youre familiar with it, arent you? His expression never changed, but a sinking feeling was beginning to consume him and the migratory birds had denitely stopped their happy chirping. It was the restaurant he had slept above last night. He decided his best tact would be to play stupid. Ive never been inside Carmellos, he said, evenly. I hear the food is good, though. Howd the family enjoy it?

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His failure to react only served to heighten Patricias intensity, as her eyes became piercing darts. She advanced toward his desk, and said in hushed tones, We had a lovely window seat, Alex. Perfect for people watching. We saw you with her, Alex. With who? he continued the act, knowing he wasnt fooling anybody. You know exactly what I mean. You may have been a few steps behind and wearing a ball cap, but you were both headed in the same direction. You made an agreement with us, Alex. You gave your word to this church. Pushing back his chair, Alex rose to his feet, and squeezed past the assistant pastor. I wish I could help you Patty, he said cheerfully, fully aware that she hated to be called that. Time to get to work! He escaped down the hallway toward the gathering throng in the foyer. That woman, if she could be called such, would be his undoing. All three church services were unremarkable. Patricia led the prayers and announcements. Trent, the worship leader, led the professional-sounding worship ensemble in rousing and emotional choruses. Old Mrs. Evelyn Pierce shouted Hallelujah! at the top of her lungs. Rose Parsons, an elderly woman who always sat in the front pew, shook her head from side to side, hands raised in the air, muttering Come Lord Jesus... oh come Lord Jesus... Randall kept the crowd attentive with jokes at the beginning and middle of his sermon, followed by a tearful personal anecdote, to conclude each of the three services. By noon, he was all cried out. Alex glad-handed, and exchanged pleasantries with as many congregants most of whom remained nameless to him as possible, while cautiously avoiding Patricia. On several occasions he spotted her out of the corner of his eye, ready to make a determined march toward his direction. He would just smile, begin shaking new hands, speaking about the weather and inquiring about the grandkids. As the nal service ended, he retrieved his computer, locked the ofce door, and latched onto a rowdy church-going family. He chatted with them cordially straight out the door into the parking lot, where he hopped into his Jeep, and sped away. He couldnt afford to be accosted by Patricia or Randall without time to rst sort out his thoughts. Besides, it would only be a matter of time before the Agency questioned the staff at the church. At that point, Patricias claim that he had been seen with Meghan would be the least of their worries. He resolved to make peace with the idea that he would soon be unemployed. His father could have the last laugh for all he cared. It was ironic, he thought, how the more the heat got turned up, the less he cared about any of it. His father could disown him. The Agency could bug his apartment and tail him 24/7. The monks could drug and kidnap him. Nicodemus could insult him. Patricia could lecture him. Randall could re him. And when push came to shove, who really

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cared! It was almost as though the pressure had become so intense, that the only way to survive it, was to become dead to it. Whizzing down the road carelessly, he smiled to himself. Of all of his duties as a pastor, doing funerals had always been his favorite. It was during these times of dark sorrow, that he found people to be the most unguarded and real. Oddly enough, it was this rawness in the mourners pain which motivated him to act from a heart of genuine sincerity. As he spoke the words of Gods peace over the dead, he also felt a peace at the center of his soul. Death brings peace. What a perfectly morbid thought. For all of the threatening chaos which currently surrounded him, it was amazing how peaceful he felt. He wasnt drunk or lling his mouth with sugar. He felt no desire to surf for sweeties on the internet. And the only girl consuming his mind, lived in a studio apartment, above an italian restaurant, on the other side town. He pulled into the far side of an immense parking lot servicing big box stores, and jogged into W-Mart. After running some aisles, in an attempt to provide some exercise for his pursuers, he slipped unnoticed to the back of the store, where he barricaded himself inside a restroom stall. With his computer case resting on the toilet tank, he sat on the seat and crossed his legs, awkwardly balancing the laptop across his knees. For the next half hour, Alex reviewed the notes he had typed with an eye toward the book he was to write. He was interrupted four times by male shoppers in need of bladder relief. The fth, was suspiciously more interested in who was using the facilities. After the door slammed shut, he waited patiently, tapping out some notes, uncomfortably aware that he did not possess the exibility of a gymnast. Once enough time had passed, he escaped his tiny cell and shoved some coins into the pay phone outside the bathroom doors. He made one call. They were going to meet Monday, after she was done work. He owed her supper. After hanging up, Alex considered the riveting day ahead. Today, the Agency and their transmitters could watch him sleep.

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Chapter 17
rim! I need to be updated on the events of the weekend before you drive me to the train station. Jack Grimsby had been at the ofce since 4:30 AM, sifting through reports on his desk from eld agents, with the intent of being thoroughly prepared for his brieng with The Duke. It was the least he could do, considering that he had been mercifully permitted to take Sunday off. But all was not well; life was becoming increasingly hostile on the home front. On the ip-side, The Duke had almost been tolerable since his Saturday morning spanking at the hands of Putnam II. He had returned to the car some two hours after Grimsby had left, the wind out of his sails. He was sullen and miserable, and told Jack to take the rest of the weekend off. Though he chain-smoked the entire way back to the ofce, not an unkind word was spoken. Its been hard to get a tail to stick to this one, explained Grimsby, shaking his head. Weve had to rely on tracking him with the transmitter we installed on his car. Saturday night, his vehicle sat unattended in a strip mall parking lot on the east side of Camden Heights. He picked up the car Sunday morning, and drove to work at the church, after a brief stop at home. Ive cross-checked for any departures or arrivals at the Talbott compound over the same period of time. All was quiet on that front, which makes me wonder what our young pastor is up to. Whatever it is, he was up all night, because he slept away the rest of Sunday. Makes no sense, said The Duke with irritation. This one has secrets. I can smell it. Who could trust a pastor who is out on the town all Saturday night? What was extracted from the computers? He hasnt been online on either of them yet, and for good reason: last Monday he cancelled his internet service. Our eld agents had enough time to copy the hard drive of his desktop while he was at church on Sunday. But it was zeroed-out beyond recovery; the utility disk was still in the drive. His laptop wasnt at the house. Were going to need more evidence to obtain a warrant if were going to get the internet service providers records. What did I tell you? The Duke said indignantly. He has something to hide! No need for the warrant. Just go get the records. It will be approved by the time you get there. Our little Putnam has been a naughty boy, I think. Serving in the church by day, tomcatting and carousing by night. I think if we brought him in, he could be made to

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talk. His old man could care less what we do with him, just as long as it doesnt create any bad publicity. Whatever went on between father and son? Grimsby hazarded the question, hoping he would not be spat at. Astonishingly, The Duke responded. The father is an important man committed to family tradition. He wanted his son to follow in that tradition. Our tradition does not take kindly to divided loyalties. Our tradition? Was that a reality, or a slip of the tongue? Grimsby reected on the words of Putnam IIs white-gloved servant: D.C. had been built by them. Their temple was a square. They owned the city. Their magic ran deep. Was this the tradition The Duke was now eluding to? It warranted further investigation. ***** Alexander Putnam II met his Arab visitors at the door of his posh D.C. ofce, welcoming them to a catered continental breakfast. The large entourage received coffee, and ignored the rest. Putnam II had learned long ago, that it didnt matter if the Prince and his people ever partook of the elegantly presented meals. It mattered even less that the untouched food was thrown away every time they met. What mattered, was that the Prince was impressed with his hospitality. It was a small price to pay in this big stakes game. The negotiations for the deal had been hammered out months ago. Billions were about to be traded for a slew of aircraft, missiles, and other high-tech gizmos which made things go boom. After exchanging pleasantries, Putnam II slid beside the interpreter, asking: Is everything to the Royal Familys liking? The parties I represent were quite satised by the nal outcome of the deal. It very good, he replied, in broken English. They feel you have been fair with them. The Prince, he mention one thing to me on way here, though. And what was that? He say that he like very much special gift you give him last time. You remember... when there was trouble making deal? Yes, Putnam II acknowledged, I remember it very well.

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The interpreter spoke quietly, with his back toward the sheik and his men. You give him a gift last time, to sweeten deal, you say. He liked it very much. He wants it again, to be sure we do business again, real soon. I understand. How does two sound this time? The interpreter shook his head. Two is too few. He was thinking more like ve. Five it will be then. Do you want them to travel back with you on the plane like last time? Or shall I send them to you at a later date? Plane is ne. We leave Thursday, 2PM. Ill have them at the airport. His majesty wont be disappointed. Now, lets sign those papers and get you folks on your way. Once he got the ragheads out of his ofce, he would take the rest of the day off. It would be the perfect time to give his son a long overdue ass-kicking. But rst, he would need to make a phone call. He was sure the Brothers would come through for him again. They seemed to enjoy investing in the Arabs weakness for American women as a way of hedging future negotiations. ***** Pale, autumn light glimmered through the towering window of the palatial library. The curtains were open today, courtesy of George Talbott, who had informed Monk that he no longer required the clerics to conduct themselves with invisibility. Although they had sufciently fullled the ailing mans wishes to operate in stealth, he now longed to see each of them; to know their faces. It would improve his spirits, he thought, to see the old house alive with activity again. Well, what did he say? inquired Talbott, nursing a cup of coffee, as Chef bustled around the two men, serving breakfast. Monk grinned knowingly, but asked anyway, What did who say? The Great One, of course. You spent most of Saturday and Sunday locked away with him. So what did he say? Ive told you this before, George, you need to go talk to him for yourself. Even though your rebirth into the Ancient Ways is constantly in the process of completion, you are already complete. So take some time, nd a quiet place, and ask your own questions.

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Do you know how much I hate it when you speak in riddles? Talbott said despondently. Monk ignored him, Each of us must attune our ears to the Creators voice. This can be difcult, when we have become accustomed to listening to the speech of creation. As an Illumined One, you have been trained to hear the voices of the supernatural. You heard their mystical utterances, and being the enlightened vessel you were, you commanded lesser men toward actions that were not in their best interest. The mistake is in believing that every supernatural voice is the Creator speaking. Created angels and demons cross into our dimensional plane every day, bringing words of encouragement and destruction, and it is the rare person who can distinguish the difference between the two. Talbotts frustration would not be so easily appeased. But its an impossibility, Monk! Ive spent decades hearing the voices. Their advice always made me richer, and more powerful. Now I have given up everything. Everything, Monk! I am left with nothing. When I go to my quiet place, as you suggest, I hear absolutely nothing! Then where is your book? asked Monk. Its hidden where its always been. If they ever found it in this house, you know Id be dead in a minute! Thats true. But were with you now, all of the time. No one can penetrate this place without us knowing, even when you are away. Its time again to get in the practice of studying the Ancient Ways. Reaching into a fold inside the coarse material of his monks habit, he pulled out a worn leather book. He opened its pages, and shifted his chair, so that he was closer to the old man. Remember back to your rebirth experience in the monastery, George. We read these words, and referred to them often. Why? Because the Ancient Ways have stood the test of time. They have reminded generations to respect the Great One who made us. They have taught us about fairness and justice. They have provided many great cultures with a moral foundation for their legal systems. But for all of these great reasons to cherish the sacred words, there remains one reason in particular which makes this volume unique. And it is for this reason, your illumined brothers would kill you, should they ever nd the book on your possession. We hated the book! interrupted Talbott. We hated the Ancient Ways, because we feared them. We would read the words backward at the beginning of each of our meetings in mockery. Copies were left in our Temple lavatories, so that we could use the pages for wiping. Face it! I have been a curse to the Ancient Ways since the day I was born. It is no surprise to me that I am not worthy of hearing the Great Ones voice!

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Not one of us is worthy, Monk comforted. Then, he followed up on his original thought by saying, You must begin to understand that your fear and consequent mockery of the book was for one reason alone. He held his nger below some words on the page, ready to read. The Apostle John, penned these words at the beginning of the book which takes his name. He began reading:
In the beginning the Word already existed. The Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was already with God in the beginning. Everything came into existence through him. Not one thing that exists was made without him. He was the source of life, and that life was the light for humanity.

So you see, Monk expounded, the only reason the Illumined Ones hate the book, is because its message of freedom threatens their control. The Messiah is the completion of the Ancient Ways. The Messiah and the message are one and the same. It is his true light that reveals the corrupt power of the Enlightened Ones who desire to rule the world. I can grapple with that statement, Talbott said, his British accent drawing out the words. But it still does not help me to hear the Great Ones voice. Have my actions been so reprehensible that I have lost my chance? he wondered. George! Monk spoke forcefully, trying to drive a point home. You have been reborn. In the eyes of heaven, you are new man. Please ght the urge to live in the past. This is precisely the reason you must return to the practice of studying the Ancient Ways. For as you study, your way will become clearer. The cleric continued: Competing voices will always try to claim us for their own, but we are his, he explained. The words in the book say it is so, so we choose to believe it is true. You must remember that after forty days and nights in the desert, Jesus was tempted by three enlightened propositions from the Dark Lord. Each time, the Messiah responded, he began his answer with, It is written... You have difculty tuning your ear to the Creator, because your past training had you listening to the words of creation. Whether they were the words of demons, or of men, all they offered was an opinion. Opinions are relative. The written word of the Ancient Ways is absolute. Surely you understand this, Monk said emphatically. Talbott was staring despairingly into space, so Monk tried engaging him by attempting a different tact: Think of it in this way. You once told me in your own words, that the Illuminati have been waging a war against the American Constitution for almost one hundred and fty years. Youve inuenced courts to diminish its reach. Youve altered history books to skew its authority. Youve psychologically conditioned vast populations to believe that it

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is outdated and irrelevant. Youve arranged for it to be dismantled. Youve taught several generations how to idolize enlightened movie stars, athletes, preachers, and politicians, who impress everyone with their atulent opinions. Now tell me, why have you and your fellow brothers in the Craft worked so hard toward these ends? Because, Talbott said, immediately connecting with the question. We knew we could never create the world we wanted as long as that document remained intact. Exactly! said Monk enthusiastically. The words in the United States Constitution were written to ensure that all Americans would enjoy a long and prosperous life of freedom. Though they were words written by men, they echo the cause of freedom that is found in the Messiah. You and your brothers set out to destroy the words which guaranteed freedom, to ensure that you could create the world of slavery you desired. Why? Because the written words contained an invincible power which unmasks the ulterior motives undergirding the Enlightened Ones opinions. The Messiah came with his message to men, in an attempt to free them from the clutches of Enlightened Ones. And what did those who were illumined resort to, in order to defend their evil schemes? They had to destroy the word. The word who is the Messiah. They believed if they killed the Messiah, they would kill the Ancient Ways. But they were wrong... because the Ancient Ways, like the freedom and justice it champions, lives in the hearts of men. You see, no matter how many innocent people are killed by the Illuminati, the Messiah and his Ways will never be exterminated. Examine these words with me, invited Monk, ipping some pages. You see what the Ancient Ways say?
The earth and the heavens will disappear, but my words will never disappear.

But now dear friend, let us abandon all of this talk of theology, and enjoy some breakfast. After we eat, go nd your book and study it, with an open ear to the Creator. Ill do it, conceded Talbott. But I am not hopeful I will hear anything. And it is for that reason that I will continue begging of you to share with me what he said to you! Tell me man! Please dont hold it back! Monk remained silent for awhile, deliberating before responding. You cant forever live your spiritual life through me. Fine! the old man sulked. Ill go someplace and listen, expecting to hear. Now tell me what he said when you locked yourself in the room for the last two days, Talbott pressed. Uninching tenacity had gotten him this far in life. He wasnt about to quit now.

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Shaking his head, Monk nally relented. The time is very short, George, and there is much to do. I sometimes wonder how everything that must happen, will t into the time that is left. Thats it? Talbott asked skeptically. Of course thats not it! Have you ever considered that I locked myself in my room the last two days because I needed a little space from you, dear friend? Monk asked with a spark of humor. You can be a regular pain in my ass. Talbotts tension dissolved with his laughter. I can be difcult, Ill admit that. Hell, my three wives and my children could tell you stories. But Im more convinced that I have been extraordinarily troublesome to the Creator. And its for this reason that I have a hard time believing the Great One would have any use for me, after all I have done to destroy his world. Its no wonder he isnt talking to me. Ive let him down. A painful silence ensued. Then as if connected by one mind, they bowed their heads in unison and gave thanks for the food in silent reverence. In the quietness of his spirit, Monk petitioned on behalf of his friend, begging for his release from the torturous selfcondemnation now clutching his soul. Monk, said Talbott softly, as the brown-robed cleric lifted his eyes to connect with those of his host. Thank you for never giving up on me. I wont let you down. My mind and my body tell me that it will all be over soon. Lately, everything has become more difcult. My legs are failing and my appetite is waning. I recognize the signs. But I wont let go until everything set before me is complete. Monk reached across the table, grasping Talbotts hand. I know you wont, dear friend. You must be strong in the time ahead. I cannot tell you what to do. Only the Great One can do that for you. But please do consider that it may be time to resign from your posts in New York. At a time such as this, suspicions shared by your brothers in the Craft will be confounded by the pity theyll feel when they see an immortal like you in failing health. You may wish to act like an old wolf, going off to die; to make it as though you are journeying on a mystical rite of passage. You could suggest that some are raised and buried in the Craft, while others have been called to wander the wilderness to meet their fate. You could bid a nal farewell to the Brothers, and break every tie that connects yourself to them and their consortiums. George Talbott slouched deeper into his seat, his food still untouched. This is the home stretch then, he spoke with calm awareness. This is where my new faith will be tested, to demonstrate whether or not I am worthy to be a child of the Great One.

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Monk nodded solemnly. Yes, dear friend. Regardless of how difcult and impossible it may seem, you must remember that the end is but the beginning. The Great Ones peace only descends upon those who have come to the end of themselves. ***** Alex awakened to the ring of a phone. In a half-conscious scramble, he groped for the smooth, black cell phone that he had chosen to keep in his pajama pockets. Monk had been intent that he keep it on his person, and with all the Agency goons creeping around, he wasnt going to leave it out in the open. It had become a life-line, of sorts. Under his blankets, to avoid being spotted by the hidden electronic eyes in his bedroom, he ipped open the thin device, answering in a whisper, Hello... hello? There was no response. But a phone kept ringing. It was his home phone. He stumbled out of bed, and snatched up the receiver from the desk. Hello? Alex. I need to see you right now! a familiar voice boomed. Who is this? Alex asked sleepily, in a vain attempt to awaken his slumbering brain. Its your father, dammit! Now you listen to me, son. Youd better get yourself over here right now. Weve some things to discuss. Suddenly awake, his voice trembled as the butteries in his stomach began to ap with every synapse of his nerves. Since when were we talking to each other, dad? Never mind that, Putnam II growled. I have a car thats ten minutes out of Camden Heights on its way to pick you up. Be ready. Click. Alex swore a loud, guttural mean streak that would have made a sailor smile, were it not for the dark emotion which betrayed his vulnerability. The man was a menace; a bully! He splashed some water on his face, wet down his hair, and quickly dressed. With the cell phone in his jeans pocket, and his computer case over his shoulder, he hopped into the Jeep, storming down the road toward D.C. It would be futile to avoid a meeting altogether. He would just be harassed until he gave in. The best he could do, was to meet him on his own terms. Driving his own vehicle meant he could leave when he wanted. Merging onto the expressway, he strung together another creative fusion of expletives. How much stress could one person process? Life had been plodding along at a slow, predictable pace until that confounded Nicodemus showed up. Since then, the only thing that hadnt occurred, was getting hit by a bus. He mulled over whether the feeling

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of razor-edged barbs tearing apart at his insides was more painful than death. In his current condition, he decided that being dead would come as a welcome relief. With a deep breath, he checked his speedometer and set the cruise control. He was in a reckless and dangerous frame of mind. Killing himself through careless driving would be one thing; but killing someone else would be unconscionable.

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Chapter 18 J
ack Grimsby cruised the suburban industrial park relishing the opportunity to be doing investigative work in solitude. The Duke, whose cruel demeanor had been at least temporarily curbed by the meeting with Putnam II, remained a foul companion. It had been a relief to drop him off at the train station for a week of briengs in New York. Locating the proper street number, Grimsby swung the car into a nearly empty parking lot at the front a warehouse. The door jingled as he entered, and a pleasant looking receptionist met him at the counter. What can I do for you today, sir? she inquired politely. Grimsby handed her his badge. Just need the records of one of your clients, he said uncomfortably. With a warrant in hand, there would have been no such awkwardness. The rules were in place for a reason, and ignoring them made him feel as though he was on unstable footing. She measured him coolly, Do you have a warrant? Not today maam. Was this even going to work? The Duke mentioned I should discuss this matter with Gerard. Is he around? Grimsby asked, making the inquiry sound very ofcial. It was unfortunate that blufng what not his strong suit. The Duke huh? she sighed and rolled her eyes. Yes, Gerard is the man you need to see. Come this way. Opening a half door, she brought him behind the counter, down a long hallway lled with dusty modems and cables, which led to an ofce door. She knocked twice, while calling out, Gerard, theres an Agency man here to see you. The door opened, and a middle-aged man wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a buttoned down shirt with jeans shook his hand. Gerard Levac, nice to meet you sir. Come in. Please come in, he welcomed, pulling out a chair. The ofce reminded Grimsby of a ight control center he had once seen when he had been called to investigate a terrorist scare at Reagan International. The only light present in the windowless darkness came from the dozens of computer monitors scrolling through unreadable codes, other meaningless numbers, and ashing graphs. It was clear that Mr. Levac was consumed with technology. You say you are here on behalf of The Duke? he asked. No. He had mentioned it to the receptionist out front, but denitely not within earshot of this man. No wonder she had been so polite. She was being monitored. The Duke

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said that you were the man to see, Grimsby conrmed. I need the records of one of your customers. A hint of a smile could be seen on Gerard Levacs face as he tipped back and forth in his chair, not unlike a fourth grader. I assume this is a warrantless request? The agent nodded, hating every minute of it. There was a reason he always went by the book. The book gave him legal authority; the ability to make things right, according to a due process, spelled out in words. The book could never be denied, unless those who were entrusted with authority ignored its words. For that, invariably led to compromises being made by those in power; making deals with scum like this. He didnt have the stomach for it. You must tell Dukey that I am going to have to raise my rates, he said with a nasal whine. My risks increase every time I add another name to the list. Currently, he has, Gerard paused, clacking at away at his keyboard, two hundred and fty three subjects actively being monitored. Each of those will be going up in price by a hundred or so. Per year? Grimsby could not believe what he was hearing. No, laughed the computer geek, looking down his nose. Per month. Im well aware the Agency has to keep spending money to validate its budget before Congress. Im providing a very valuable service to the country, considering that half of those on the list are congressmen who need to be told which way to vote, he chuckled. Just think of me as an independent contractor who is willing to assist in the legislative process. So whos the new target? A light bulb suddenly turned on in Grimsbys head, and it almost jerked him clean out of his chair. His heart began to pound heavily, for he knew that whatever took place in these next few moments could very well determine the future direction of his life. It all made sense now: Being yanked off a case hed been working on for a year so that he could be made The Dukes underling; being kept so busy that he couldnt spend time with his family, let alone with his own thoughts; the witch hunt against George Talbott; being here with this toxic asset, who was strangely transparent regarding his illegal activities. Someone wanted him to be compromised; to be co-opted to the other side. The wrong side. And this present moment had been orchestrated to consummate the unholy marriage. He had to be careful now. Every response, every facial expression, every tell, was being recorded. He knew that the dark side, while having a huge arsenal to draw from, rarely had anything new up its sleeve. Sin-tapes were a favored tool of the corrupt to obtain leverage. Were he now to follow The Dukes instructions to commit a warrantless search and seizure, he would forever lose his freedom; the evidence recorded during this moment could be used against him at any future point in his life.

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Thinking quickly, he made a sudden gesture with his hand toward his leg. He jumped dramatically to his feet, gripping noisily at his pocket. Damn cell phone is on vibrate, he smiled. Retrieving it, he pushed a button and held the phone to his ear, moving away from the ofce desk. Good. Gerard looked bored. Yes! the agent exclaimed into the dead air of the receiver. Of course! Yes! Okay. Ill be right there! Well have to do this another time, Grimsby said looking over his shoulder as he walked out the door. Duty calls! Ill give your love to Dukey. He didnt wait for a response, and walked briskly down the hallway, past the receptionist, out the door. Once he had driven half a mile through the maze of roads in the industrial park, he pulled up behind a warehouse, and forced himself to breathe deeply. Why him? Who was trying to turn him? ***** Alex pulled up to the gate of the mansion, and glared into the video camera. This ostentatious pad was so different from the home in which hed grown up. Putnam I had been a hardworking furrier of great renown in the D.C area, and had done quite well for himself. He had been grooming Putnam II to take over the business, when animal rights activists took the luster out of wearing fur in the nations capital. It began with the threat of being doused with red paint and ended with the political destruction of anyone who was caught on lm wearing the soft skins of dead furry animals. Incensed that vegetarian hippies could bring shame upon his fathers proud heritage, Putnam II closed up shop, buried his father, and joined a lobbying rm, intent on inuencing the bureaucracy in ways that would punish ower children everywhere. He found he had a knack promoting arms dealers, and soon began his own rm. With Putnam IIs bitterness being channeled into a new profession, the family of three became a family of two. Alex and his mother soldiered on in the same humble, suburban home, both aware that the new furniture and fancy cars had come at the steep cost of losing a father and a husband. Neither of them found it difcult to make peace with. Peace was not possible when Putnam II was home. He had become a big man, with a substantial client list, a huge ofce, and an enormous paycheck. He also developed a large thirst for expensive whiskey, which fueled some heavy-hitting abuse. Late one evening, as Alex lay awake in bed, Putnam II arrived home, after putting in a busy day. When Mrs. Putnam accused him of indelity, all was silent except for the swirling sound of ice in a glass. Half an hour later the shouting began. An hour after

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that, Putnam II had his bags packed and was out the door, while Mrs. Putnam held a plastic bag lled with ice to the side of her head. Putnam II lived in swank hotels for two years, after which he purchased a D.C. mansion in a lovely neighborhood, properly balanced with new and old money alike. Alex had been there twice before. Once to reject his fathers proposal to join the family business, and once to break the news that he was entering the ministry. Needless to say, it hadnt been a place which evoked warm fuzzies. What now could be important enough to cause his father to break the silent treatment? He had run the question through his mind a thousand times on the trip over. Had he been paid a visit by the Agency? Would the staff at church be interviewed next? Was his life unravelling beyond recovery? The black servant with the white gloves opened the door before he could knock, and wordlessly led him down the hall. It had all the comforts of a death march. Nothing good could come from his being here. He began muttering to himself, in an attempt to quell the involuntary trembling in his limbs, as he rounded the corner to the ofce. Sit down Alex, said a stern-faced Putnam II. Still larger than life and drinking like a thirsty camel, thought Alex, noting the girth of the overbearing stature which supported a ruddy face; red in the cheeks and nose. What do you want? he asked, trying his best to sound condent. Why didnt you come in the car I sent for you? the father accused, pacing with annoyance from behind his desk. Ive had my driver turning Camden Heights inside out looking for you. Alex shrugged and then did his best to return a jab. Did you ever consider that I cant be available to you at the drop of a hat? I have a job, you know; a life that keeps me quite busy. Be grateful I came at all. Oh... Putnam II raised his voice condescendingly. I thought you only worked on Sundays. I hope it doesnt inconvenience your busy schedule too much to take a little time out to visit with your father. Yeah, whatever! Alex then cut to the chase: What do you want? We need to talk, said Putnam II, seating himself in the broad leather chair. With calmer nerves thanks to the verbal sparring Alex decided to move in for some body shots: Thats funny dad. Nearly four years ago, we met in this exact room and you told me we were through. No talking, no relationship, no inheritance, no nothing! And now, out of the blue, you decide the time is right to talk. Personally, Im a little tired of being yanked around. I either have a father, or I dont.

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Putnam II rolled his eyes dismissively. This has nothing to do with you having a father. This has everything to do with the Putnam name. I wont allow you shame our family, son. The word on the street is that youve been dealing with some pretty shady characters of late, and that has got to... I dont have a the slightest clue what youre talking about, interrupted Alex. You dont, do you? Putnam II growled like a junkyard dog. I cant tell you how embarrassed I was when two men from the Agency showed up here, accusing you of being involved with a known domestic terrorist. Made me wonder if my son was actually working in a church or spending his time at the service of a mosque, he needled, knowing just the right buttons to push. Alex sprang to his feet. I think were done here, Dad. Im not going to hang around here to have you kick me in the ribs. Ive seen you do that to Mom one too many times. The words stung, and with the desired effect accomplished, he turned to leave through the ofce door, where White Gloves blocked the way. Looking back toward his father, as if to say, Really?! he extended his arm pushing the slender, aging servant aside. Wait! commanded Putnam II. You can go whenever you want. I just need you to tell me one thing: What is your involvement with George Talbott? Alex looked toward his father genuinely confused. Who? The man who told you his name was Nicodemus is really named George Talbott. Hes one of the wealthiest men in the world son, and hes currently under investigation for crimes against the Government of the United States. The confused look on the pastors face was replaced with shock. What did he do? So you do know him then. It doesnt matter what he did, Putnam II dismissed, what matters is keeping you out of jail. Seems the Agency has the two of you linked. You know the saying son. A man is judged by the company he keeps. What did he do? Alex repeated. What could a helpless old cancer victim like him possibly have done? Putnam II neatly sidestepped the question with a demeaning snort. Talbott? Cancer? Oh, hes got you fooled boy! That man is as healthy as a horse. Now tell me, will you? How are the two of you involved? Alex nodded to White Gloves, offering a quiet apology for rudely shoving him aside, then turned back to the desk, taking his seat. Uncertain of who to believe, he nibbled

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around the hook a little. You tell me what he did, and I will tell you how we are connected. It doesnt work that way, son, said Putnam II, tightening his line a little. Hes done some very bad things in his lifetime. Horrible, awful, reprehensible things. The silence that followed was intended to allow the last words spoken to sink in. Alex was thinking of those words, and they were bringing to mind the sick, old mans confession, and then his hostile tirade about being judged. Alex spat out the bait. Tell you what, Dad, Ill tell you about my involvement with Talbott, when you tell me all the horrible, awful, and reprehensible things that you have done in your life. You do that, and weve got a deal. Putnam IIs neck pulsated, as his face turned a deep shade of red. Ill meet you in hell rst! Fair enough, said Alex without emotion; avoiding eye contact by staring at the oor. He barged past White Gloves, stepping briskly down the hall, hoping that the meeting in the underworld could be avoided. Alex! yelled the irate father. Youve lost your chance boy! I wont let our family name be destroyed by your insolent stupidity. You arent a Putnam and you never will be! You arent one of us, boy! Youre a nobody! The front door of the enormous home slammed shut, punctuating the nal words that Alex would ever hear his father speak. Fierce rage descended like a torrent upon him, giving way to crude, vile, and malicious language. The tires of his Jeep squealed their equally dark sentiments across the interlocking brick driveway, marking a curse that would remain visible for months. Words led to sobbing, and sobbing to groaning; until all that was left was the hollow of his gut was deadness. Eyes clouded with tears, he screeched, Im a bastard child! sounding just as crazy as he felt. Im a bastard child, and I like it! he rasped, vaguely aware that, although he was alive, he felt such an empty numbness on the inside, it were as though he was dead. The walking dead. A zombie bastard! he grinned madly, suddenly snapping out of it. Merging onto the freeway, he set his cruise control. He was, after all, a zombie bastard with a conscience.

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Chapter 19 T
he drive back to Camden Heights was uneventful except for a grey SUV hanging back, making all the same moves. He turned off the freeway a few exits early just for the hell of it. Throughout the trip, sanity had slowly returned, and he now wondered how they had picked up his scent at his fathers house. Although fairly certain they had not followed him into the city, he knew that blind rage had kept him from making good use of his mirrors. At the outskirts of town, he timed a few yellow lights perfectly, and was condent he had left his pursuers behind. Making a beeline for a busy shopping mall, he lucked out on a parking spot amidst the busy throng of cars near a mall entrance. He sprinted through a large, sliding glass door, and loitered in the entranceway. After twenty minutes, the SUV with blacked out windows had zeroed in on his Jeep among the many thousands of vehicles. It crept up the row of cars, pausing briey, before moving on. So now youve bugged my car! he muttered, the sudden realization showering him with anxiety. Some relief came, when he considered he had parked well-away from Meghans apartment, but what if there were transmitters in his clothes and shoes, like he had seen in the movies? He swore sourly, and began walking briskly down the broad corridors of the mall. An hour later, he emerged with an oversized knapsack, and three shopping bags containing several days worth of new clothes, a jacket, and a couple of pairs of shoes. When he could make it, a trip to the laundromat should cure any further electronic infestations within his existing wardrobe. Returning home, he went to the bathroom and started a hot shower. As the steam lled the room, he removed the tags from his new purchases, and folded the garments tightly into the backpack. The friggin spooks were turning him into a gypsy. After a quick shower and a shave, he dressed in his new clothes and shoes, hoisted the knapsack and computer bag over a shoulder, and dug out his dusty bicycle from the garage. He was certain the idiots would not have had the foresight to bug his bike. On paths and sidewalks, he carved his way to the state college, convinced that unless the Agency had a spy satellite trained on him, he had not been followed. At the front of a large brick caf, he chained and padlocked his wheels to a bike rack, and carried his bags inside, resting them on a table in the corner, in plain view of the counter. Armed with coffee and a danish, he opened his laptop, eager to put the complimentary wi- to good use by researching one name: George Talbott. After sifting through several days of unopened email, he typed the name into his web browser, and his jaw fell open.

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Nicodemus was George Talbott, and the old, grey-bearded man was among the whose who of political and social elites. Clicking further, he found that the man was also a very generous philanthropist through his foundation. That such a man could be engaged in criminal behavior, as his father had implied, was ridiculous. Website after website sang the industrialists praises. What had the old fellow done to create such a stir within the Agency? Now lets see where you live, Alex mumbled unconsciously, typing in the address he had found into G-Irth, a program which used satellite technology to give aerial views of any place in the world. Wow! he exclaimed, when the enormous Talbott compound on the edge of D.C. came into view. He clicked to see the street view of the house, only to see pillar after pillar, supporting a tall, black, impenetrable fence. The smell of coffee, the thought of anonymity, and the mindless surng on the web was food for his hungry soul. Pandoras Box did not always have to reveal lusting ladies to sooth the gnawing ache he felt inside. Being a voyeur into George Talbotts life was quite enough for right now. But with each new fact he discovered about the billionaire, the Agency was uncovering him! The moment his computer had engaged the cafs wireless network, a hidden virus came to life. It immediately contacted the mainframe mother-ship at the Bureau, and began uploading the contents of his hard drive. There was no way he could have known that the Agency had developed Pandoras Box with a very specic goal in mind: To establish a global network that would provide the worlds most virulent voyeurs with a window into the personal lives of people they longed to control. ***** Jack Grimsby was lling out paperwork, trying to come up with enough credible evidence that would convince a federal judge to grant him a warrant to obtain Alexander Putnam IIIs internet records, when an Agency computer tech burst into his ofce. Youre going to want to see this! he exclaimed excitedly. Putnam III has been online now for over an hour and the contents of his laptop hard drive have been retrieved. There was very little of interest, except for... The tech leaned over Grimsbys desk and tapped away at his keyboard until he had gained entry into the Bureaus mainframe computer. Navigating through a maze of les, he nally arrived at folder named Greybeard. Opening it with a double click, he said, Now look at this. What are we looking at? Jack inquired. The les were in a format unfamiliar to him.

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Encryption software bundled with the computers operating system generated these les. Based on the size of these three, he pointed on the monitor, Id guess they are video or audio les. This small one here would be text. Can they be decrypted? No problem, the tech quipped condently. If we can decrypt Chinese military communications we can denitely unlock these les. Itll just takes time, thats all. He used 512-bit encryption, which is pretty complex stuff. How long do you gure it will take? Grimsby wondered. If I throw everything Ive got at it, could be anywhere between... he paused, doing the mental math, four days to a week; maybe longer. That long? Grimsby was hoping for a preview before The Duke returned. And thats looking at things optimistically. Those are some pretty intense algorithms to unwind. ***** Mind if we join you? Alex jolted reactively, nearly spilling his coffee onto the laptop, startled that two people could have gotten so close without his noticing. Whoa there big boy! You may want to like, layoff on that coffee. Its making you jumpy! she laughed. Two girls one, a drop-dead, gorgeous brunette with expressive brown eyes; the other, a moderately pretty, full-gured blond pulled up chairs to his table. We havent seen you around here before. Did you like, just transfer in? Gorgeous asked. Naw, Alex shook his head. Ive been graduated from college for nearly ve years now. Just killing some time by getting caught up with some email correspondence, he said casually. Now what were these two vixens up to? Moderately Pretty ashed him a million dollar smile. Weve been watching you from over there, she pointed at a table across the room, where six other attractive coeds were giggling. We were making bets as to what it was you were doing over here in this dark corner. Gorgeous continued chatting it up. Those hos over there bet us that you were like, surng for smut or something. Melissa and me, we thought you looked like the type

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who would be doing more responsible things. You see, we still have faith that there are like, real men out there, who would rather be with real women, she challenged, eyes beckoning. So what is it? Shocked by their boldness, he turned his screen, revealing the Talbott Foundations homepage. I told you, Janice! exclaimed Moderately Pretty Melissa, hitting her friend on the shoulder. I told you that this was a real man. Just look at him. Theres no comparison between this guy and the porn-addicted little boys around here who are like, constantly badgering us. Alex was rattled. They were wrong about him, of course. But that was a moot point considering the direction he perceived all of this was going. How many times had he fantasized about a scenario identical to this? It was a surreal moment; the type he had read about as a teenager, from the back of an adult magazine. In the best of times, he likely would have recoiled in fear at the possible consequences. Brushing them off, he would have explained that he was a pastor in a local church, sending the girls on their way with a friendly wave. But these were not the best of times. His insides were a jumbled mess of raw emotions and confused thoughts. Could it be that his emerging rage had also heightened other primal instincts within? Would the indifferent recklessness which now consumed him be enough to thrust him into a wild night of meaningless debauchery? Amazingly, there was no end to the combinations of possible justications. Then, for a split second, another thought ashed across his mind: When it was all over, would it really matter, one way or the other? Was this simply another hollow illusion, that would amount to nothing in the end? Right about now, that might be a good thing, he thought. Reinserting herself into Alexanders consciousness, Gorgeous Janice whispered sensually, You know what this means, dont you? Alex shook his head dumbly. He didnt have clue. But they certainly had his attention. It means you are like, our prize. We get to take you home for a little party. Are you up for that big man? Alex... My name is Alex, he offered his name freely. He had been propositioned before, but never like this. Are you up for that, Alex? Gorgeous Janice ran a sharp-looking ngernail up Moderately Pretty Melissas arm. Me and Melly are roommates, and while we are not like, in the habit of picking up strange men, we sure would appreciate your cooperation

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to show our friends over there that we like, have the balls to capture you, she giggled, shooting a knowing look to the six howling coeds across the room. Have the balls? Alex was uncertain as to whether he had missed a shift in cultural jargon, or if he was now lusting over two convincingly-attired cross-dressers. One never knew when you stepped on the campus of a state college, he mused. Figure of speech, Moderately Pretty Melissa bantered while tossing her hair. The truth is, those bitches over there think they are like, all that. Theyve been riding me and Janice since school began. You looked like a decent guy. So weve decided to like, make our statement with you as our victim, she grinned hungrily, sliding her soft hand into his. What the... This was way better than the two-dimensional ladies of the World Wide Web. Two real coeds, wanting to share him for a real, but impersonal romp? What could go wrong with that? He quickly ran through the tradeoff list. The costs were high, but not insurmountable. But his deliberations came to a screeching halt as a wave of self-loathing suddenly crashed down upon him, dampening all prospects. Was he actually considering intimacy with these two girls? What kind of a person was he? Sure, he could quote chapter and verse, but could he live it? Did it really matter that he actually practiced what he preached? In that instant, he decided that it did matter; even more so, since the events of the past few weeks. He had been aware of a steady change beginning to take root; a change he liked. The shocking interruptions into the mundane patterns of his life had taken such a toll, that there simply was no energy remaining to gratify his appetite for comfort. The distress had been so persistent and all-consuming, that nding a release had become an impossibility. So he had simply given up trying. With his desire for self-comfort curtailed, he was caring ever less about the illusions and their empty promises of fulllment. Clearer thinking began to dominate his mind, and the conicting messages engrained upon his soul through years of Illumined sex-conditioning began to loosen their grip. Ladies, Alex smiled gently. Im not certain how well youve thought out this proposal. While it might look appealing on the surface, neither of us can see what lies beneath. I just wouldnt be a real man if I said yes. As he calmly spoke the words, his esh screamed out in deance. He consoled himself, admitting that his current circumstances would likely crawl the skin of any real man. Dude! Are you like, queer or something? Gorgeous Janice lifted her chin in disgust and pulled her girlfriend by the arm, making a quick exit out the front door.

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Embarrassed, Alex quickly looked around the room wondering who had noticed the turbulent outburst. Surprisingly, except for the oblivious clerk wiping tables, the caf was empty, including the rowdy group of jeering coeds who had been sitting at the table across the room. Either classes had resumed, or the cockroaches had taken off scurrying, once a light had been turned on. ***** Yeah Kev, what is it? The Duke huffed into his cell phone, walking briskly on the busy sidewalk. He hated New York. There were too many damned people. Lots of news on this front, boss, the Dark Unit second in command replied. Before he could explain, The Duke interrupted, brimming with news of his own: Theres a lot happening up here too. The Brothers are making some pretty bold changes, and they want our unit to lead the way. You know what that means? Im all ears, yawned Kevin Militello. As a disciplined, ex-Army assassin who later signed on with the Agency, he had advanced quickly in the ranks because he kept his mouth shut and got the job done. The blood in his veins was cold enough to put up with narcissistic fools like The Duke. Someday, he would have his job. Theyre going to promote me to Director. You know what that means? You tell me, boss. How much longer would he have to put up with this fool? Our unit will be running the entire Agency within the next year! The Duke said with satisfaction. They say the country is going to be a mess, and they want someone with a strong arm to ensure security. They want to snuff out all homegrown terrorism, and they believe that our way of doing things is just what the country will need. There were several unspoken reasons The Brotherhood had selected The Duke as the next Agency Director. None of these had anything to do with the agents qualications, and he would never advance beyond the position of being a puppet. There was too much repugnant unsophistication at his core. Yet the Brothers sensed that there was timely usefulness in the man, in sort of a Mao, Lenin, or Hitler kind of way. They believed that with proper support, he would be the perfect face of responsibility for the violent task of removing dissenters from the chaos that would soon be raging across the country. Thats an interesting development, commented Militello, who sounded completely uninterested. He was a practical man, well suited to his trade. He was given an order

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to murder and make it look like suicide, a robbery gone bad, or a car crash. He killed. He was paid handsomely. He did not care for idle chatter. Boss, there are some loose ends up here I think you should know about, he said, in a second attempt to break the bad news. Youll have to hurry, The Duke was breathing hard. I am on my way to another important meeting. Ill be quick. Your Agent Grimsby is working on getting a warrant for Putnam IIIs internet records. I need to know what you want me to do, seeing as youve already obtained them. That goodie-two-shoes wouldnt take the bait would he? The agent swore as he continued, Increase his hours for the remainder of the week. I dont care what you have him doing, just keep him busy. Hes been struggling with his home life lately. His wife is as angry as a hornet. If we turn the pressure up a notch, hes bound to quit. Ive seen his kind before. They never last. Militello didnt blink. It was all in a days work. On another subject: We lucked into a perfect setup for AP3s sin-tape. Yesterday, we found some girls, based on the prole youd outlined for us and paid them a each a grand, telling them to give our buddy, who was about to get married, the ride of his life. Today, Putnam managed to elude us for a short time, and when we caught up with him, he was hanging out at a caf on the college campus. Our girls were on the scene within the hour and gave a terric performance. But he wouldnt bite, boss. Ill have the tape for you when you get back. What do you want me to do next? Youre telling me you found a glamour-doll brunette and a cute curvy blonde who were willing to leave with him together, and he wouldnt bite? The Duke asked skeptically. They were sexed-up and talented, boss. We had a dorm room with cameras all ready to go. And he was drooling, just drooling thinking about it. Then he snapped out of it and blew them off, Militello explained. Mustve scared him, The Duke muttered. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. Hed take care of it when he returned. Continue to follow Putnam from a distance. Hes running scared now , and if he spots you, well never make any headway. We need to make him comfortable again. You know, lull him back into carelessness. Throw a couple of tame porn mags next to the road where he walks, and jam a yer in his mailbox for a club in the city that shows some skin. We need to prime the pump; get the juices owing again. You have to prepare properly to get the desired results, Kevin.

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Sure boss. Militellos pleasant compliance gave no indication that as he spoke, he was picturing the neat, blue circle around a freshly red bullet into The Dukes skull. With a smirk and a shake of the head, he was ready to get on with the day. ***** Throughout that morning, George Talbott read from the Ancient Words, listening intently through the deafening silence for the sound of the Great Ones voice. Hearing nothing, he meditated on some words once spoken by the Messiah, perceiving their meaning:
I can guarantee this truth: A single grain of wheat doesn't produce anything unless it is planted in the ground and dies. If it dies, it will produce a lot of grain. Those who love their lives will destroy them, and those who hate their lives in this world will guard them for everlasting life. Those who serve me must follow me. My servants will be with me wherever I will be. If people serve me, the Father will honor them.

The timeless law rang true. Never had he hated his life more than now. He hated the powerlessness he felt because of his failing health. He hated the fact that men who once called themselves brothers, were now plotting against him. He hated being watched and followed. He hated the memories of the senseless destruction he had created prior to being reborn. And yet, even as he was dying whether by cancer, or by the hand of his brothers he could sense a righteous productivity owing through his inner-being on the side of goodness. It came to him then, that perhaps he was no longer selshly living for himself, as decades of occult training had once guided him to do. As the day wore on, Talbott enjoyed an unusual burst of vigorous energy which miraculously began coursing through his veins. Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, he arranged a meeting with a lawyer recommended by Monk, wrote eight letters of resignation which cited his failing health, and completely organized the next two critical weeks. Feeling more like himself than he had at any other time in the past year, came as a great relief. Maybe the doctors were wrong. Was he turning a corner? Three clerics wearing their usual brown garb, entered the book-lined study, and Monk was among them. George, we need to talk. Am I interrupting anything? he asked. No, no. Please sit down, he said, indicating a chair opposite him, across from the expansive, mahogany desk. Whats on your mind? Your next meeting with Alexander will be held on Friday. I am concerned that if we leave him alone for too long, that he may start having second thoughts about us. His paranoia, while justied, cannot be permitted to create such a great fear within him, that

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he becomes unwilling to participate. He needs a reason to continue forging courageously ahead. What do you suggest we do? Talbott asked. It felt good to be proactively planning again, rather than limping along, reacting to things as they happened. Do you remember a man named Anthony, who was being deprogrammed during your time of rebirth at the monastery? How could I forget! interrupted the old man, excited to reminisce about a pleasant memory from his new life for a change. There were only ve of us there besides you monks for months on end. Anthony was the scientist, was he not? Thats right. And he was inserted back into his life stateside shortly after you. What you didnt know, Monk explained, was that he and his family were relocated in a small suburb, west of D.C., and for the past 4 months, they have been attending Camden Heights First United Congregational Church. What?! Tony is here? Talbott was animated. It is all part of the greater plan, my friend. I am sorry to say, however, that you mustnt make contact with each other. I know you feel isolated and would enjoy having a friend who is much in the same position as you. But if either of you were caught together, which you would be, everything would be compromised. We wouldnt get caught, George Talbott sighed, glossing over what was at stake. He recoiled then, and his posture suddenly returned to being stooped over, like the old man he was. He persisted: We could get him here in one of the vans, wearing the thermal suit. They would never even see him. Monk would not concede. It just cant be risked. Not at a time such as this. Youre going to have to be patient, enjoying the company youve been given, he smiled, indicating the other monks scattered throughout the room. Pray for your brother Anthony, but do not insist on seeing him. It would be a selsh thing to do. Why has he been attending the church in Camden Heights? Talbott wondered, changing the topic. His heart-aching loneliness left him unwilling to agree to stay away from his friend. I suppose that was all part of the plan, too? he added sullenly. Monk nodded. You came off the streets and contacted Alexander at the church, and look at all the trouble it caused. You see, when it came to you, we really had no other choice; it was the only method available. If the Brotherhood ever found out you were going to church, suspicions would have been raised, and questions would have been asked. Maintaining Anthonys cover, is not nearly as complicated.

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Hes working now as a consultant for the Smithsonian, and attends church to give his children exposure to Sunday school. You should count your blessings, though. Last we spoke, Anthony told me he would rather slit his wrists than endure another Sunday service. Talbott chuckled, If he hates it so much, why does he still attend? Are you holding a gun to his head or something? He wont have to endure any more of that brainless drivel once he meets with Alexander. The important thing now, is that he has established himself as a congregant in need of spiritual guidance. Those watching Alexander will never suspect anything beyond that. Ill text Alexander to let him know that he will have to be his pastoral best tomorrow. George Talbott looked confused. Why would you tell me that hes here, if I cant contact him? You know better than anyone that Ive been cooped up in this house, and that it exhausts me to go on pretending that I am something that I am not in the presence of those who used to be my Brothers. Seeing Tony right now would be the perfect thing to lift my spirits! So why would you torture me by telling me all of this, he huffed. Undisturbed, Monk looked upon the old man with empathy. I told you for this reason alone, George. Unlike you, who is at the twilight of his life, Tony has a wife and young children. He is risking much to share his story. As his friend, I thought you should know, so that you can be petitioning the Great One on his behalf. Shame swept upon Talbott when he considered the gravity of Monks words. He wondered when he would stop being such a damned old fool.

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Chapter 20 P
utnam III parked the Jeep a half a mile away, and attempted to blend-in with dinner goers on the street. He felt that his skills at eluding the Agency tails were improving. Emerging from the vehicle, he put on his new jacket, threw on a ball cap, and began making his way back to Meghans loft on top of the Italian restaurant. He doubled back several times, and entered the front entrance of shops, only to duck out the rear. Springing up the back stairs, he felt a rush of exhilaration which quickly turned to a pang of remorse. Here was a beautiful, decent woman; a lady. It pained him that he had ever considered betraying her friendship for a roll in the hay with two strangers. Something sick lived on the inside of him. Meghan opened the door, looking condent and lovely. Brushing her soft lips against the side of his cheek, she held onto him briey, looking up into his face, green eyes expressing the pleasure she felt in his company. He swallowed hard, determined to set aside his emotional weakness for a moment when he was alone. Tell me about your day, she beamed, pulling him through the doorway. It was kind of weird, all the way around he commented, pulling a bottle of red wine from the knapsack. Meghan caught sight of the clothes packed into the bag, and chuckled as she blurted out, What!? Are you planning on staying for a few days? Red with embarrassment, Alex dropped the bag on the oor, and opened a drawer, looking for a corkscrew. Naw, he tried to shake it off. I did some shopping today. The Agency has been kind enough not only to bug my house, but also to hide a transmitter in my car. Dont worry, he assured, I parked far away, and made sure nobody followed me here. Her radiance dimmed somewhat, and she looked at him seriously. Who could you go to about this Alex? Its not right what theyre doing to you. If I remember correctly, your father has some inuence in Washington. Would it be worth calling off your mutual silent treatment, so that he can help you get this situation resolved? I saw him today, Alex grumbled, twisting the cork with determination. He disowned me all over again, telling me I wasnt a Putnam... that I was a nobody. I am so sorry! she was beside him in an instant, rubbing his back. What would possess a father to say such a horrible thing to his son?

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He hates that I sided with mom all of these years. He despises the fact that I wouldnt join him in his business, choosing instead to go into ministry. The long and the short of it is that hes a bully, and I refuse to be bullied. Sounds like me and my mother and father, she sympathized. Alex poured the wine and raised a glass to meet hers. To a better future! he said. Meghan echoed the cheer, took a sip, and began setting the table. Life has a funny way of working things out, she commented, lling a glass with water. When I rst met you, I thought that you might be the one for me. It was a vulnerable time in my life, which made me want to cling to you all the more. You were older, and the latest and greatest thing to come to the church, and I was kind of in awe. When you pulled away, my immediate thought was to replace you, because I wanted the hurting I felt inside to stop. But I was afraid that what happened to me in my last month of college would happen again, so I remained alone. Then after the blowup with my parents, my dad wanted to reconnect with me, but my mom kept him away, saying she wanted to teach me a lesson. Its been a very tough time. But I have begun to realize, she continued, that these years of loneliness and hard work have changed my perspective. Ive noticed it, even in my feelings towards you. I can honestly say, Im no longer in awe of you. Alex laughed out loud. Its about time! he quipped. Seriously, she drew closer to him. Youre still as handsome and as charming as ever, but I really could care less about any of it. What occupies my curiosity now, is how one man can remain so resilient in the face of so many troubles. Whether you and I move on from here together or alone, I am wholly convinced that overcoming lifes difculties with Gods help, is what forms the good stuff on the inside. Alex ruminated on her observation for awhile, and settled onto the couch with a sigh. I think youre right on that point, he agreed. But youre wrong when it comes to any good stuff being on the inside of me. Sheepishly, he went into detail about his afternoon at the college caf. As he recounted the story, Meghan rolled her eyes, snickering. It was a rather unbelievable tale. When he had nished, she came from the kitchen and sat cross-legged on the couch, and she reassuringly placed her hands in his. I have just two things to say to you Alex Putnam. First, you cant beat yourself up over being tempted by something any redblooded male would give his eye-teeth for. Your actions speak well for you, because you are now here with me. For the record, I think you chose well. Im way more fun than those two coed tarts! she laughed.

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Second, she became serious, nothing personal, but you need to give your head a shake. Handsome... yeah. Charming... yeah. But having college girls fawn all over you as a reward for being a real man? Please! Although she was mocking him in good fun, he felt the blood rush into his face again. He had been there! He heard every word they had said! You, my friend, were had! Meghan said while poking her nger into his chest. If you dont have any friends at the college who are practical jokers, my next best guess considering the mess youre already in is that you were about to be blackmailed. What!? How would they have pulled that off? Or better yet, why? he thought out loud. Inside, he was wondering how he could be so stupid. Alex, she looked at him sweetly. Without a doubt, those girls would have given you the time of your life, but it would have cost you a piece of your soul. Think about it! Youre a pastor, whose been approached by some Nicodemus character to expose this supposedly secret cult of Illumined people. I heard the recording where Nicodemus said it himself, these people are dangerous! If I were an evil schemer, getting video of you in the sack with two hot college babes would forever make you my bitch, she said smugly. Im not sure that being your bitch wouldnt be such a bad thing! Alex joked, hoping to deect attention from the probability that his libido had turned him into a blind fool. But it would be a bad thing. The worst thing, in fact, she stated atly. I dont want to be your boss. Call it old-fashioned, but I want my man to lead. My mother yanked around my father for so many years, that shes become the man. Hes nothing more than an impotent eunuch. She demeans him with enough passive-aggressive manipulation, that to her face, he just obediently does what she says. Behind her back, its another story altogether. I happened upon his internet history once, by accident. Lets just say that the websites he was frequenting were all-male, and much less than honorable by any stretch of the imagination. The revelation about Meghans fathers homosexual indiscretions surprised Alex. The man came off as a strict and proper religious gure who never missed a Sunday. He was widely respected in the church, sitting on the Board and several committees. When Saul Kiplinger spoke, people listened. If a prominent man like Kiplinger had been so severely compromised by Pandoras Box, what was the likelihood that he, a bottom-rung pastor, could remain honorable? He had been clean and sober for a week now; not even close to his personal best.

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Hopelessness swept over him, as he quietly considered the conundrum: he wanted to be a man of honor, but he was trapped in a cycle of behavior that owned him. It seemed that even his strongest, most self-determined efforts were powerless against the sweet, all-consuming songs of the naked sirens. In the ensuing silence, Meghan studied his face with puzzlement. When Alex nally realized her curiosity, he prayed she would not offer him a penny for his thoughts. He didnt think he would be able to lie to her. Thankfully, she simply drew her thoughts to a conclusion: I dont want a man who does what I say in order to keep the peace. I want a guy who is man enough to protect, provide, and lead an entire family. Are you up for that? she taunted with a teasing smile. He wanted to be. He truly wanted to be. Im up for it! he spoke eagerly, guessing that he had probably spoken too soon. Good! she said, smacking him on the knee. Lets have some supper, shall we? They ate well and talked of their fathers and mothers, and of the money, pride, and lust that had stolen their childhood innocence. Throughout the conversation, Alex pondered whether he would eventually suffer the same fate as his father. He had no right sharing time with this strong, beautiful, idealistic woman. Perhaps he would be better suited to the college skanks. His self-doubt became all the more prominent any time he contrasted Meghans character with his own. Here was a girl who knew what she wanted; someone who made no apologies for the life-path she was choosing. Alex was captivated by her condence and her unwillingness to compromise. As the evening wore on, he became pessimistically convinced of his own inadequacy. A woman of this quality required wholehearted commitment. She was well beyond her days of being a irt and a tease; a mode he operated in comfortably. No, she was now longing for something deeper; something that would be real, and lasting. He hoped he would not be her source of compromise. Around midnight, out of sheer respect for Meghan, he skulked away from the apartment into the quiet darkness. The later the hour, and the longer he stayed, the less honorable he felt. ***** Jack Grimsby was surprised to see the kitchen light on as he drove up the driveway. What would Wanda be doing up at this hour. He hoped none of the kids were up sick.

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Everything alright? he asked quietly, as he shufed through the front door, his briefcase jam-packed with the last eighteen hours worth of work. Were ne, Jack. Its just good to have you home, said Wanda, clutching a coffee cup. Exhausted, Grimsby pulled up a chair to the table, staring blankly in the direction of his wife. Im sorry. These hours Ive been working are not fair to you or the kids. Nor to you, Jack. You didnt sign up for this. How can you go sixteen years of pretty much nine-to-ve, then in the past six months begin to work eighteen hour days plus weekends? And I dont see any difference in the paycheck. Were all suffering here, she said emotionlessly. He too, was at his wits-end. Kevin Militello, second in command of the Dark Unit, had kept him pushing paper all day. When ve oclock had rolled around, he had him run an errand to Baltimore during rush hour trafc. I dont know if this helps, Wanda, but Im not the only one who is being singled out. Five guys from my old unit have either quit or taken early retirement. Theres a shift taking place at the Agency. Someone at the top is trying to push out all of the cooler heads. A kettle began whistling, and Wanda got up to x her husband a cup of chamomile tea. Something needs to be done, she said, stirring in some honey. Were starting to run out of glue to keep this family together. Handing him the cup, she sat down, offering a faint smile. Well make it you know. Weve always done what was necessary to get through the rough patches. I dont blame you Jack, because I know its out of your control, but weve got to do something. Grimsby suddenly became aware of the modern kitchen around him. The stainless steel appliances, the granite countertops, the fancy lights; all of this cost money. He had worked too hard to give it up now. It would be foolish to relinquish his government job at a time when so many were looking for work. As uncomfortable as Wanda was now, shed be even more so, standing in a line at a government kiosk in a W-Mart store. There were no sympathetic ears remaining at the Agency. ...Perhaps there was another option, however. He had done a security detail for several months with a U.S. Senator, and in that time, their families had become friends. Senator Charles Stanbridge had made the effort to keep in regular contact with Jack. At least once every few months, they would grab a beer and a cheesesteak together at a pub near the Hill. Perhaps therein lay the solution. Im going to call Charley tomorrow, he broke the tired silence. I have enough evidence right now to be classied as a whistleblower. Im fairly certain federal law

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mandates certain protections for whistleblowers. So we could be eligible for a government stipend, should I have to leave the Agency, he suggested. At the idea, Wanda seemed to brighten. Grimsby then made up his mind. The Duke and his crew were corrupt. To initiate a government inquiry was the only thing left to do. ***** A rigid vibration startled Alex awake from a deep slumber. Returning home, he had disrobed in the dark, crawled snugly into bed, and promptly fell asleep. Now his leg was vibrating incessantly. Half-conscious, he pulled the covers over his head, and grabbed at the smooth cell phone in his pajama pocket. Hello? Hello? he whispered hoarsely. There was no reply. Squinting into the screen, he saw that he had been sent a text message. What was Monk doing up this late? Today, member of your congregation to request counseling from you. Anthony Coleman. Clear your schedule for the day. Close the door. Good notes necessary. He is one of us. Flipping the phone shut, he slid it back into his pocket, and shut his eyes. When morning came, the plot would thicken.

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Chapter 21 A
lex arrived at the church after showering, dressing, and eating breakfast in his steamed up bathroom. He didnt care if his observers thought he was weird. It was the one room in the house he knew was private. Hoping to avoid any premature run-ins with the wicked witch Patricia, he arrived right on time, mentioned to the secretary that he was expecting an appointment, and shut his door. Ofce work at the church was usually an open door affair. But each of the staff had made an agreement that if a door was closed, it was an indication that they wished not to be disturbed. By now the witch had likely ratted on him to Randall, and there was a good possibility that todays staff meeting would be lled with more reworks and drama than an afternoon soap opera. It was almost ten oclock when he heard a light tapping at his door. Come in, he said, expecting the worst. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the secretary. An Anthony Coleman is here to see you, she informed. He says you were expecting him? Yes he was. Please send him in. Thank you, he said kindly. A bearded fellow wearing dark sunglasses and a bowler hat tread quickly into the ofce carrying a briefcase. He shut the door behind him and Alex rose, extending to shake a hand. After a limp, uninterested shake, he silently motioned for Alex to sit back down. Opening the case, he removed a slender electronic apparatus, which he waved, in broad sweeping arcs, over the walls, furniture, and ceiling. Five minutes of silent work garnered four transmitting devices, two of which were cameras. Then, without as much as a glance in Alex direction, he turned the pastors laptop computer toward him, and with a few keystrokes, disabled the camera and all outgoing communications via the internet. Exhaling, as to indicate his completion of the task, he removed the glasses, hat, and beard, to reveal the hawk-like face of a man nearing fty, whose mannerisms were quick and twitchy, not unlike those of a prairie dog. Grasping Alexanders hand more rmly this time, he introduced himself: You may call me Anthony; Anthony Coleman. Sorry about that, he said congenially, but we had some loose ends to tie up before we could begin. No problem, said Alex somewhat stunned. He was amazed at the lengths the Agency gone to in order to watch him. His mind began racing now, wondering if he had said or

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done anything in this ofce that could trace him back to Meghan. Had her name been brought up during Patricias rabid rant on Sunday? Mind if I check out something else on this? Coleman returned his attention to the laptop computer on the desk. No. Go ahead, welcomed Alex. Removing a pen-shaped USB device from the case, he inserted it into a port. Green lights began ickering on the stick, which then began ashing red, as if in a panic. Uhoh, the older man said grimly, while typing an unintelligible stream on the keyboard. This is one of your run-of-the-mill Agency phone-home viruses, he commented robotically, continuing to hammer away. There. That ought to kill you, you nasty bug. Hope you didnt have any information on that computer that was critical to your mission, he said. Alex thought he was going to hyperventilate. He fought himself to maintain control. His audio recordings of Nicodemus! Could the fact that he had secretly recorded George Talbotts voice against his wishes, come back to haunt him? Would the Agency be able to decipher the encryption? I had a text le that I was working on, that may have proved revealing, he tried speaking nonchalantly. But I used 512 bit encryption. Would that protect it? The encryption software bundled with your operating system? That wont stop them for long. You cant imagine the amount of processing power the government possesses, the spastic little man said assuredly. From now on, if you are going to use this computer as a tool to assist you in your work, you must keep it congured to remain unconnected to the internet. Alex was worried. Had he just compromised George Talbott by refusing to follow his simple instructions? What had he done? Twitchy Anthony interrupted his thoughts, by returning the computer to its place. It is properly congured now. So dont fool with it. The bug is gone? Alex hoped. Its disabled. Dont fool with this machine, he repeated monotonously. Lets get onto the business as to why I am here. He was a strange, almost mechanical little fellow, Alex thought, as he opened a new word processing document. He wondered if he should tell this man about the audio recordings. Could he do anything to remedy the mistake he had made? Or was it too late? He chose to remain silent.

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I went through my rebirthing experience with Monk, many months ago, at a monastery deep in the south. When I returned to North America, my family was moved to Washington, where I was ofcially employed as a scientic advisor. My previous line of work put me in direct contact with a scientic team of Illumined Ones who reported directly to the Brotherhood. After accepting Monks invitation to seek out true freedom, I was reborn into the Ancient Ways, committing my life to the Messiah and his freedom cause. Part of my mission, now months in the making, is being fullled today. I have been gritting my teeth because I was forced to attend this illumined outpost, Sunday after Sunday, going on for four months now. I cant tell you how relieved I am to be done with it. Why is that? Alex wondered. Surely you know, he said, sounding bored by the question. Youre a better man than me, to endure being inserted in this big box of enslavement. Alex made a note to ask Monk about the comment. He thought it was a strange thing for someone to be saying about a church. Yeah, I hear what youre saying, Alex postured, hoping he came off as though he knew what the other man was talking about. Lets get down to business, he twitched. You must forget what I look like, forget that Ive been here, and forget my name. I assume Monk gave you an alias as well, but we must remember that these names should never be used. You must never seek to locate me, after today. This is a one shot deal; one day only. Alex nodded and began typing. In order for you to fulll your part of the mission to document the diabolic plan that has begun to take effect I must give you some background. It is information critical to the understanding of what the Illumined Ones are now undertaking. But there will be holes in my information. You see, I am not an Illumined One. I am not a Brother. I am not an Eye of America or the World. I am but a scientist with good skills of observation, who, by coming into agreement with the Great Ones ways, was mercifully given a second chance. I now thank the Great One for my humble pedigree. For without all the pomp and circumstance surrounding a title, wealth, and status, it was easier for me to leave my old life behind. Like a wounded bloodhound preoccupied by another scent, Alexanders devastating worry about the secret recordings falling into the wrong hands became momentarily

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forgotten. So youre telling me that someone must be of the right bloodlines in order to be an authentic Illumined One? he inquired. Correct! afrmed Coleman, excitedly brimming with considerable information he was anxious to share. Another basic principle you must understand is that the Illumined Ones ex their muscles by mocking the Creator. They are constantly masking the powerlessness they feel, because they cannot like the Great One create something out of nothing. The very best they can come up with, is to fabricate an inferior duplicate or a counterfeit of what the Creator has already made. This inadequacy has them so infuriated, that they have become obsessively driven to erase all evidence of the Great Ones presence, essentially replacing the ngerprints of God with the ngerprints of men. They utilize their inferior creations as a way of mocking the Great One; as a method of destroying his renown. Bloodlines are one of these counterfeits. According to the Ancient Ways of which you should be well-familiar the blood of the Messiah is spilled on all who welcome the renaissance experience freely offered to them by the Great One. This essentially brings new blood-brothers and sisters into the Great Ones family by way of a divine blood transfusion. The Illuminati also maintain their family-line by way of blood. You will note that history has shown that careless inbreeding can lead to insane kings. Hence why the Illuminati is so xated upon eugenics. But we will talk more on that later. Alex was transxed by what was being revealed. He had studied history. Insane European kings were not uncommon. Youre telling me that these families essentially rule the world? his intrigue deepened. Yes. They rule through dark occult power that they alone have learned to harness. Picture it this way, said Coleman, unbuttoning his brown cardigan. It seemed he was just getting warmed up. Its a modern feudal society that is being constructed, where kingdoms are built upon the backs of peasants. Some say feudalism originally came to Europe as a reaction to Viking invasions. The Vikings would rape, pillage, and plunder. The common townspeople were so terried, that when certain nobility suggested that they would build castles to provide protection, these commoners didnt hesitate to sign on. They would forego their property, and would give the majority of what they produced to the king, with the promise of his protection should there ever be an invasion. Modern Americans have been fooled by this same ruse with the threat of Islamic terrorism. The only reason Islamic Fundamentalism is a threat today, is because it was

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invented and fostered by the Illuminati. Everyone knows Osama Bin Laden was an American operative many years before he became an enemy of the United States. The Great Plan of global feudalism is being orchestrated by the knights of the kings. These current-day knights are called The Brotherhood, in Illumined circles. The Knights of The Brotherhood are the brains behind the operation. Their bloodlines, while still regal, are not as pure as those of the families. Typing as quickly as he could, Alex glanced at the clock, wondering if he was going to make it to the staff meeting today. It wasnt looking too good. Too bad. Coleman continued. Answering to The Knights of the Brotherhood are the men of certain rich families who have been adopted into the Illumined family. These are called the Eyes of the World or an Eye of a particular country, such as the Eyes of America. In a ceremony designed to mock the innocent blood spilled when the Messiah was crucied, Eyes are inducted into the family by dark rituals where infants are murdered as a method of appeasing the Light Bearer. Wait a minute here! said Alex, trying to absorb what had just been said. You cant be serious? Listen, said Coleman twitching in annoyance, I dont want to be here any longer than I need to. Just type, and research the annals of history for your conrmation at a later date. Just dont connect to the internet using that computer, he said, pointing at the laptop. Fair enough, said Alex, in an attempt to calm the fellow. You said you were a scientist. Tell me more about that. Yes, we will get that. But you must understand why I am laying down this philosophical groundwork rst. The Illuminati: the Families; The Brotherhood; The Eyes; and other Illumined Ones of the Craft, dont dene themselves as politicians, historians, artists, or scientists. They are all philosophers. You must remember, that rst and foremost, the Illuminati is a fraternity of philosophers. You are a minister, so you should know that there were two trees in the Garden of Eden. The Tree of Life, offers the lifeblood of the Messiah to all who ask. The Tree of Life offers real fruit, that brings all who eat of it real freedom. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil offers fruit that is an illusion. It promises secret wisdom that will propel the eater to godhood. It guarantees that all those who delve deeply enough in the esoteric teachings of occult masters, will ascend to become the masters of the universe. Now, Coleman tested, are you beginning to recognize the pattern where the counterfeit is a form of mockery?

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I think so, Alex deliberated, a little uncertain if he was making the connection. Look at it this way. According to the Ancient Ways, God became man, to rescue all of humanity. According to Illumined philosophy, man becomes a god, in order enslave all all who are beneath him. I can process that, said Alex, typing the words. Coleman opened a bottle of water from his briefcase, and took a noisy drink. His odd mannerisms made him difcult to watch. Smacking his wet lips, he added: The enlightened philosophies of the Illumined Ones will only gain traction if God is dead; if he is removed entirely from the planet. With the Great One abolished, the Ancient Words become nothing more than old wives tales. Humankind will then become more and more susceptible to lies that will transform them from sons and daughters of the Most High, to slaves of the Illumined elite. The end result, is that those who were once created in the image of the Great One, now begin to take on a greater resemblance to the Illumined Ones; who are but a reection of Lucifer, the Light Bearer. Vast societies who fail to acknowledge the Ancient Words, will also fail to recognize the poison found in the suggestions of the Illumined Ones. Consequently, even those claiming to be Christians will likewise fail to realize that they too are mocking the Great One, even as they go through their Sunday motions to worship him. At the mad scientists nal words, Alex took a deep breath. Here he was, the great enlightened pastor, who just yesterday had entertained some serious hanky-panky with complete strangers. He had studied the Bible in seminary so thoroughly, that it was drilled into his mind. Yet, would someone who actually comprehended the Ancient Words, behave as he just had? Were his actions, even as a leader in the church, mocking the Great One? What do you mean by that? Alex asked, quite afraid of the answer. Anthony pounced at the question. Consider this church you work at here... Before he could continue, there was a soft knock at the door. Come in, Alex chimed reluctantly. Randall entered the room and inspected the small man twitching in his chair. Hey there, friend, he welcomed smoothly with a hint of condescension. Nice to see you. Turning to Alex, he said, Can I speak to you out here for a minute? Once in the hallway the senior pastor continued in whispered tones. Hey buddy. Just thought I would give you an excuse to wrap it up in there. It looks like youve got

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another talker on your hands, and our staff meeting is going to start in ten minutes. Weve got a lot of stuff to cover. Along with the usual agenda items, youre going to give your presentation, and then Patricia has something important she wants to discuss. So go back in there, let him know youve got an important meeting, and wrap it up. Yeah... Im sorry, but Im not going to be able to take part in the meeting today. Alex was amazed how easily the words came. It probably helped considering Patricias important news that he would have preferred to eat a crap sandwich than attend. What do you mean, you cant attend?! The meetings always come rst, Alex. Reschedule this guy! said Randall impatiently. Whats the deal with him, anyway? Hes all jittery all over the place, he laughed, mimicking Anthonys movements, in a moment of unmistakable mockery. Alex remained calm. I cant go today. Were right in the middle of a counseling session. By now, Randalls short fuse had reached ignition. How many times have I told you, he partially contained the explosiveness by clenching his jaw, we dont do counseling. We cant open ourselves up to lawsuits like that. One day youre counseling, giving well-intentioned advice. The next, the church is getting sued. Just pray for him and send him on his way. That would work, Randall, if I were counseling him. The fact is, hes counseling me, and I only have one shot at it; just today, explained the junior pastor. The cute stories; the self-depreciating jokes; the hey buddys; the tear-lled personal anecdotes; were no longer any part of the senior pastors repertoire. More jaw clenching seemed to be the order of the day. Well be having a conversation about this later, he uttered, storming toward his ofce at the end of the hall. Thanks for understanding, said Alex pleasantly, pulling the door to the ofce closed wishing that it locked. He was so screwed.

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 t was kind of you to meet with me on such short notice, Charley, Agent Grimsby lifted his stocky frame from a round table in the corner of the pub. Senator Charles Stanbridge exuded warmth with a wide grin, Sit back down! I was glad you called. You gave me an excuse to send an aid to a boring committee meeting Id rather not attend. The Senator was cut from classic politician cloth. He was tall, strikingly handsome, and commanding in posture. Yet there was a benevolence in the carefully groomed, agewrinkled face which made him approachable. Observant grey eyes, caught every detail, and revealed a man who enjoyed thinking, as much as he enjoyed the publicity of the political fray. Whats going on Jack? You sounded a little distraught on the phone? Grimsby didnt beat around the bush. Im considering whistleblowing on the Agency. Ive been asked on several occasions to break the law by my superiors. Ive resisted, up to this point as best as I can, but now theyre trying to drive me out. I can feel it. You know, the sharply-dressed Stanbridge carefully observed, the Agency has danced to the beat of its own drum for some time now. Youll remember that period of time between the 1950s and 80s where they sprayed toxins on our cities, gave LSD and electroshock therapy to unsuspecting American citizens among far worse things; all in the name of government research. If I was you, I might just walk away. The agent tried hard to conceal his disappointment. I cant walk away, he said emotionally. What would I do, be a security guard at W-Mart? Theres no decent paying work to be had out there these days, and Wanda and the kids have come to expect a certain quality of life. You know? Thanking the waitress, the Senator took a sip from his glass of beer. I wont get in your way if you want to pursue this. Ill point you to all the right people; people that are hungry for this type of action. Personally, I will ofcially have to remain at arms distance. My last six years are almost up and theres the election to think about. Stanbridge then leaned in closer to Grimsby, speaking in hushed tones. I know you think the world of me Jack, but I am not a perfect man. There are some pretty big skeletons in my closet, and the spooks have kept record of more than just one. They sent me copies of the pictures once, when I weighed in too strongly on the wrong issue. They have me by the short and curlies, and could destroy my career, family, and reputation in the blink of an eye. Ill do all I can to help you, but it will have to be behind the scenes.

Chapter 22

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Was there no accountability then? wondered Grimsby. Going to the top to get the bottom line was nothing more than an illusion? Even this wonderful man whom he had come to respect and admire, was held hostage by this rogue enterprise which operated under the guise of legitimacy as a federal agency? So the deeper question was, where did the Director of the Agency get his orders? Point me in a direction, and Ill take it from there, said Grimsby sullenly. I know youre disappointed in me, Jack. Im sorry that I let you down. We all come into this line of work with idealism, that were somehow going to change the system and make everything right again. The senator continued, Everyone has at least one weakness; one moral aw. Somehow, that aw not only gets discovered, but is used to tempt us into a compromising situations, which are then recorded. Its not just me, you know. Its every last one of us. The good ones among us, give an excuse and resign. They work their way back into normal society, abandoning politics altogether, to focus on their law practices or whatever. The greedy stay on, year after year, milking the system for all it is worth, giving great sound bytes, but never really accomplishing anything. The truly evil ones, are promoted. Even if they lose an election, you will see them return as ambassadors, chairmen of government agencies, high-level leaders in the bureaucracy, or spokespersons for all kinds of fraudulent noble causes. I just so happen to be one of the greedy ones. So when you consider whistleblowing, dont be too proud to learn a lesson from an old man whos been around the block a few times: the good ones always get out; the greedy stay in and play the game; the wicked are promoted. Stanbridge leaned closer with sincere eyes fastening on those of the agent. Get out Jack. Get out before you get in so deep that you turn out like me. Ive become a soulless puppet, a stooge for the true masters. Grimsby took a long pull from his drink. After a contemplative moment, he asked, Tell me Senator, who are the true masters? The kindness in Stanbridges eyes cooled as he leaned back in his chair. Thats the million dollar question isnt it. I know its not Congress, and I know its not the President. In my line of work, we call it the Grand Machine. We are all just part of the Grand Machine, enriching ourselves while we can, knowing at any moment our fate could be altered with one wrong move. So resign and get out Jack, the Senator said pleadingly. Youve always been a good man; a better man than me by far. Wanda and the kids will adapt. At least theyll get to keep their husband and father alive into the future.

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Squinting his eyes in frustration, Grimsby uttered, Charley, Ive worked too hard serving this country to back out gracefully. I just cant do it. Jack! There is no country! Stanbridge was desperate to convince his friend. Its all make believe. Its just a big machine, whirring around, and when it has no more use for you, it just spits you out. There may have been a time when the Constitution, the ag, the pledge, and the anthem meant something. But that time has now passed. These things are nothing more than props to make you and I think the country is real. Look! implored the Senator, Ive already shared way too much. Just take my word for it, and resign. Ill pull whatever strings I can to nd gainful employment for you. Just go! After a long moment of silence in which the waiter brought their greasy meal, Grimsby leaned in toward his friend and spoke with uninching resolve: Ill take that name from you now. Just print who I need to see on this napkin, and we wont have any further contact. He would take his sandwich for the road. ***** High above the earth in a sky-scraping Manhattan penthouse, the Duke was acquiring a valuable lesson on how the privileged few lived. He could get used to it. This was better than he had ever dreamed. As the future Director of the Agency, he would be reporting directly to The Brotherhood. They were wining and dining him, and promised more high-class hookers than he could possibly shake a stick at. Currently he was meeting with Brother William, a British chap who came off way too seriously. The dour Brother dully explained the chain of command, and the philosophy of illusion concerning his accountability to Congress, and his patriotic efforts on behalf of the American people. Although he was exceedingly boring, The Duke knew enough to be as engaged as an attentive lapdog. They signed preliminary paperwork, the rest of which would be completed Saturday morning, after Friday nights induction ceremony. As Brother William explained, the paperwork was merely a formality. The Gathering of The Brotherhood later in the week would be when his initiation into the position of Director would ofcially be consummated. ***** Im sorry, Alex apologized to the man squirming in his chair. I didnt mean to interrupt you. Now where were we?

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Coleman was red-faced, and clearly agitated. I dont know how you stay on here. That man, he spewed, referring to the senior pastor, hes a fraud. He masquerades as a messenger of the Great One, but in reality is nothing more than a religious entertainer who does his dog-and-pony show for money. Hes no better than a greedy patent medicine salesman! he spat. Just when it seemed a blood vessel in his head might burst, the trembling scientist managed to gather himself, taking a deep breath. I am sorry for my outburst. I have been forced to sit through eighteen weeks of listening to that mans voice, babbling on about all kinds of high-and-mighty religious topics that have no real importance. I guess I have been bottling it up for too long, explained Coleman. Lets return to our conversation shall we? Uncertain as to whether he should be amused or frightened, Alex simply nodded his head, and rested his hands at a ready position on the laptop keyboard. Lets talk about my role as a scientist for the Illumined Ones, he said, straightening his sweater, still making an effort to regain composure. I had mentioned to you before that in order for the enlightened philosophies of the Illuminati to be well-received, the Great One and the Ancient Ways had to be made ineffectual. This was made possible by transforming the nature of science from being empirically-based, to philosophicallybased. This transition began in the 17th and 18th centuries with The Enlightenment, which then paved the way for the evolutionary guesswork of Darwin. You see, true science is based only on what can be observed and recorded: that which is real, and can actually be proven. Illumined science makes speculations based on the personal philosophies of Illumined Ones; thus creating a conict of interest. You must remember, the Illuminati are philosophers; they are not interested in real science. This explains why to this day, Illuminists hold alchemy in such a high regard. Consider this, Coleman went on, now returning to the top of his game. The alchemists-of-old believed that basic matter could be transformed to create gold. First, let us consider their motive for such an endeavor. Greed? Alex offered, working out a cramp from his wrist. Precisely! Can someone who is a true scientist be motivated by greed? Alex took a guess where this was going. No. That would be a conict of interest, which would eventually taint the scientic method and consequent observations. Right again, conrmed Coleman. Now consider this: can a philosopher be motivated by greed?

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Of course. Now let me explain the Illumined Ones grand illusion. They, through their scientists, have convinced the world that the Creator does not exist, even though there is no way they can prove or disprove this fact using the scientic method. With the Creator and his pesky Ancient Words neatly erased, the Illuminati are then free to implant their materialist philosophy into the minds of men, all in the name of science. However, as we know, science cannot be true science, if it is tainted by philosophy, for a conict of interest will always poison the method and observations. Do you know what the modern day version of alchemy is? Coleman asked. Alex shook his head, scrambling to keep up. It is the pharmaceutical and agribusiness industries. You must always remember: The only way illuminist philosophers can get away with this, is by rst creating the illusion that those who are initiating the transforming of matter, are scientists. They arent. They are merely philosophers who have a conict of interest. This is the reason every illumined billionaire has a charitable foundation. The charitable foundations funnel tax free money to nance these enlightened programs and their enlightened scientists. Drug companies are not run by scientists who are interested in helping people live better lives. If they were, they wouldnt be selling Americans toxic substances that create all kinds of devastating side-effects. Drug companies are simply alchemist philosophers, who are convinced they can transform matter into gold; gold which comes from the pockets of an ill-informed, unhealthy, duped population. A year ago, I was an alchemist who made his living from genetically modifying seeds. Our illumined philosophy was that by transforming matter, we could make seeds drought and toxin resistant, while at the same time conguring them to be nonreproductive. Have you ever wondered why a company with the benevolent ideal of making seeds more productive in harsher environments, would also make them non-reproductive? Coleman asked rhetorically. Greed, said Alex with condence. Actually, you are only partly right. Its greed and power. My company not only produced the seeds, but also produced the poison the seed was resistant to. The farmer had to buy his patented seeds from us. Then he had to buy the poison to spread over the seeds to kill the weeds. Then we had him over a barrel every

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year thereafter, because planting unmodied seeds in that toxic ground would yield very poorly. Coleman squirmed in his chair and continued, trying not to boast. I was personally responsible for designing the seeds that would grow in an environment with obscene levels of aluminum and barium. Do you have any idea why? Search me, replied Alex, half-listening to the fading voices of the other staff members as they made their way down the hall to their weekly meeting. A knot began to form in his stomach. The Brotherhood has initiated a spraying plan, in order to save the planet. Their science or philosophical outlook has indicated that the depleting ozone layer is leading to increased levels of UV and infared radiation which warms up the planet. So it has been decided that western countries will use their eets of commercial aircraft to spray polymers containing reective metals into the atmosphere, in an attempt to cool the earth. Part of The Brotherhoods due diligence along these lines includes the development of seeds that can withstand an intensive aluminum and barium environment. Youve got to be joking me, Alex scoffed dubiously. Its not hard to research, said Coleman. You may just want to look toward the sky. Illumined philosophy encourages genetic engineers like me to further develop and enhance all of creation, purporting that it is human ingenuity alone that will save the world. This is why we have been attempting to genetically modify and patent every protable species on the planet. This is why we are cloning. This is why the Illumined Ones Foundations, and tremendous amounts of tax payer dollars are funneled into the dark, occult arts of eugenics. We profess that we are doing it all for the betterment of humankind. That is simply an illusion. The truth of the matter is that the Illumined Ones so vehemently detest the ngerprints of God, they are compulsively driven to replace them with the ngerprints of men. Enlightened men.

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Chapter 23

gent Jack Grimsby did not want to go back to the ofce fearing that Kevin Militello would have him running more time-wasting errands. Hanging his federal ID from the rearview mirror of his car, he parked in a no-parking zone near the Congressional Library. Finding a quiet corner, he shed out the napkin with Senator Stanbridges handwriting on it. He punched the numbers into his cell-phone, waiting for a response. Citizens for Government Accountability. Zeke Marlow speaking, said a deep voice. From the sound of it, Jack guessed that it belonged to an African American. Hey Zeke. I was given your number by a mutual friend, Grimsby said quietly. I am a detective with the Agency, and am being persecuted because I refuse to break the law. Our mutual friend said that you might be able to help. And who might our mutual friend be? Zeke inquired. Cant say, and I cant tell you who I am either. I need to meet with you. When would that be possible? You could come down to the ofce right now, he offered. No. I couldnt be seen in your ofce. How long would it take you to get to the Congressional Library? Grimsby wondered. That would be thirty to forty minutes, from here. Okay, Ill meet you in the lobby in an hour. How will I recognize you? asked the agent. Well, said Zeke. Im big, and Im black. You wont miss me! And listen suh, he reassured, you have my word that I will not compromise you in any way. Id appreciate that. See you in an hour. Jack ipped the phone shut and dug in the pocket of his trench coat for his notepad. Flipping some pages, he found the scrawled words he had written after talking to the white-gloved servant at Putnam IIs house. City built by them. Temple is a square. Own the city. Magic runs deep. He logged onto a computer and began searching for books on Washington D.C. Unable to narrow things down quickly enough, he strode to the desk of a prim-and-proper-

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looking, middle-aged library assistant and posed the question: Excuse me maam. I am trying to solve a riddle my friend gave me about our ne city. Could you help me? Certainly! she smiled. A challenge always helps my day go by more quickly. Okay, said Grimsby, Here it is. He says that the city was built by them, and their temple is a square. Jack omitted the last two points of his notes fearing he might not be taken seriously. Now thats an easy one. I was looking forward to a challenge! she said, expressing mock sadness. Its the Craft. President Washington and his city planner were both members, although Washington disavowed his association with the organization at a later date. Mount Vernon Square is home to their temple. Come! Let me show you an aerial view. She led him down through some rows of books to a map on the wall. Here is the square, she indicated on an expansive map of the capital city. And these are some other interesting features the city planner added in. First, watch my nger. As I leave the square, Ill connect several different streets. Tell me what you see. The assistant traced up and down and over, and again. That kind of looks like a star, maam. It is actually called a pentagram, and the upside down point of the star is positioned at the White House. Geometry is very important to the members of the Craft. Here is another neat nugget, she said, pointing at some oblong cul-de-sacs around the Capitol Building on the map. What do you see here? she asked Well, Ill be, said Grimsby. That looks just like an owl! The library assistant was beginning to enjoy herself now. There was not anything quite as special in her line of work as when the lightbulb turned on in a patrons mind. Now give me a dollar! she suddenly demanded. Excuse me? Ill give it back, she laughed, I just want to show you another thing that connects all of this together. He shed into his wallet, and handed her the bill. Come over here for a second, she directed him toward her desk, where she handed him a magnifying glass. Turn the bill to the President side, and take a look at the number one with the shield around it, in the upper right corner. Do you see a little something up there, sitting of the left side of the shield?

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Well, Ill be damned! he exclaimed. Then, with embarrassment he added, I am sorry about that maam. I just cant believe my eyes. Sitting on top of the shield was the unmistakeable image of an owl. What does it all mean? From the ancient days of Egypt, the owl has been revered as a creature of piercing vision, possessing mystical powers of secret wisdom. In like manner, the members of the Craft have perceived themselves as the invisible steerers of Americas destiny. The owl in Washingtons city plan and the owl on this Federal Reserve Note are ngerprints, intentionally placed, to remind each Craft member of this fact. The Book of Isaiah in the Bible names the owl as Lilith; a feminine demonic entity that represented a harlot who opposed the righteousness of Yahweh, the God of the Jews. Supposedly, this spirit functioned according to a winding spiraling force, tempting victims to join her in a dark spiritual heaven with the promise of sensual pleasure. Grimsby found himself blushing. And how do you know all this? he asked, trying to change the subject. She winked at him, ignoring his obvious embarrassment. Now, for one last piece to the puzzle! she said, bouncing away, disappearing down a long row of books. If it is such a big secret, I wonder how a humble librarian knows all about it, Grimsby grumbled in her absence. This old bird might be a little loopy. Here it is, she declared breathlessly. Now look at this! she thrust an open book in front of his face. Another owl? Yes, this one is at a very exclusive club in California called Bohemian Grove. When members of the elite gather there for their annual meeting, they burn a sacrice before the owl; a human efgy. Youve got to be kidding me, Jack whispered. Its all right there, she indicated. You can read it for yourself! The agent studied the black and white picture, and read the caption, before asking, Now tell me what all of this means? What it means, said the librarian spryly, is that the same people who attend the annual meeting at Bohemian Grove, are the same people who control the money supply, and the same people who control this city! And why have I never heard about any of this before?

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Do you watch television? The birdlike woman smiled sweetly. Not in the past six months, he thought to himself. Weve been so busy entertaining ourselves as a culture, that weve stopped studying the history and current events of this land. There was a time when the libraries of our country were like our churches: a meeting place for the community to gather and discuss the past, the present, and the future. Churches and libraries are now the countrys tombs. Sure, weve tried to remain relevant by offering free internet service and movie rentals, but that just proves the point: weve compromised, hoping to engage a culture, that no longer has the capacity to care. Grimsby nodded, agreeing with the woman. But he was impatient for further explanation: Now tell me more about this Craft. Youve obviously studied them well. That I have. When you work here, and dont have many interests besides books, you come upon all kinds of works of antiquity. The Craft is a secret society that passes itself off as a fraternal organization of do-gooders. For the most part this is true, as most adherents are clueless to the deeper reaches of the higher echelons of the organization. Those at the top operate by a code of loyalty which advances the cause of the Craft through business transaction favoritism, absolute silence in the event of criminal activity, and severe penalties rumored to be fatal for those who betray the oath of secrecy. Was this what The Duke had meant when he had said, our tradition does not take kindly to divided loyalties? Go on, Grimsby urged. Tell me more. The librarian was smitten at the opportunity to share her knowledge, and she encouraged the agent to have seat as she did the same. Do you really want my opinion? she asked. Jack knew his time was limited, and was ready for the condensed version. If it is based on what youve read, go for it! Do you know why there are culture wars in America? she posed the question, sitting primly, hands folded in the lap of her long skirt. Grimsby wondered where this was heading. It goes back to the very foundation of the country, the bookworm explained. On the one hand, the country was founded by Christian religious sects who wanted freedom from oppression. On the other hand, America was established as the fulllment of a vision given to the philosopher Sir Francis Bacon: to be the New Atlantis; the establishment of a truly enlightened society. The culture war in America is simply the consequence of a nation that has been both founded upon enlightenment and Christianity, she concluded with satisfaction.

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That being said, the agent wasnt getting it, how does the Craft t into it? The librarian managed to disguise most of her condescension. Well, thats an easy one. You see, the Founding Fathers of this nation were either God-fearing people who wanted the unbridled freedom of worship, or they were members of the Craft; the secret society who wanted to dene the parameters of freedom, so that they could guarantee that the new country would become an enlightened society. The American Constitution and Bill of Rights were the result of a cooperative effort between these two factions. But what of the Craft today? Grimsby pressed. Tell me how it is still relevant. Ah-ha! she chuckled. Now we are getting to the heart of it. Tell me sir, do you believe that a society can remain free, if many of its most inuential leaders have made a vow of secrecy, and are committed to business favoritism, the coverup of criminal behavior, while threatening to murder anyone who breaks their oath? Absolutely not! the agent declared. There you have it, she said lowering her voice. In the derivatives scandal that brought Americas economy to its knees, did you ever hear of anyone being charged with fraud?23.19 When the Pentagon gave the lame excuse that it could not account for one trillion of American taxpayers dollars, was anyone ever held accountable? Grimsby shook his head. You see, the librarian explained hardening her eyes, when a ne Republic such as ours, is given over to enlightened masters who are permitted to rule in secrecy, the common man will be reduced to slavery! And that, she lifted her head with pride, is the lesson that every American must learn from history! ***** After The Duke had been dismissed, Brother Philip joined Brother William to ascertain whether they had chosen well. Philip and William Wellington were fraternal twins, both ex-patriots from England who posed as international nanciers for the same American company. They had been assigned as the gatekeepers for the Brotherhood because of their unique gift of being able to see into the hearts of men. Access to the Brotherhood had to be strictly guarded. Occasionally, Brothers would become disillusioned and would end up telling tall-tales to their wives, or could become prone to alcohol induced benders where they would speak to anyone who would listen.

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Those who had a difcult time keeping their mouths shut when under the inuence of drugs or alcohol, usually ended up committing suicide, supervised by the caring guidance of Philip. Most chatty wives could be made compliant with consistent reminders that violence was an ever-present reality. If a beating or two could not keep them in line, drugs could be administered which made them perfect candidates for mental institutions. The trick was to lter the bad-apples out before they actually got in. With appropriate screening, many of the unpleasant details associated with mopping up could be avoided. Hows the new Agency Director? asked Philip. Like his brother, he was a wellmanicured, clean-shaven man dressed in a dark three piece suit. His sparse grey hair was combed over the crown of his head, assuring the untrained eye that he remained a very vigorous, youthful man. There are some potential shortcomings, William observed, but he is the best equipped among the eld of potential candidates. There shouldnt be any difculty getting him to follow orders. Do you think he will have trouble being a team player? asked his brother with a wink. Thats always the question when we bring in someone new. I dont think its going to be an issue, but his initiation at the Gathering will conrm it. His psychology seems perfect. Someone did a fabulous job whipping the conscience out of him, and hes been riding that sweet spot where the ego is directly fed by his position of power. I dont think he cares a whiff about right or wrong. He just wants control. Whatever the hell that means, said Philip brusquely. There was good reason for William to lead the Brotherhood: he was a soulless brain technologist. But every good leader needs a capable enforcer. As Global Head of Maa Operations, Philip was the braun. Let me reduce it to simpler terms for you brother, William smirked. Hes a classic Adolph personality. He wont mind being dominated, just as long as he has those of his own to dominate. He seems spiritually disconnected to me, commented Philip, glancing down at his Rolex, ready for the next order of business. Oh, you just wait! said William, rubbing his hands together in delight. If I am correct, all we will have to do is wait for the initiation to take hold. Once he is pricked by the energy, he will become an unstoppable zealot among us. Though it is doubtful he has ever been ridden, this one, if I am not mistaken, will ride hard over the best of us. So whats the downside?

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Hitler was already oriented to receive the energy. Our man, from what I can determine, is not. At this point I think he could be best described as asexual. So it becomes a question as to whether or not his compulsion to dominate will override any remaining social mores. My guess is that it will. His paperwork indicates that he isnt married, and doesnt have any children. How about his parents? Are they still in the mix? wondered Philip, ipping and smoothing his thinning hair across his forehead. Not married, no children, and the parents are dead, answered William. Brother, I think weve found our man! On another note, are we going be able to ll Putnam IIs request? If it wasnt for the fact that it was for the Prince, Id tell him to go to hell. Such short notice... We currently have three houses-full to pick from, said Philip. Ive informed Maxwell regarding the specics, and he seems to think there are some able candidates. Are we going to make Putnam pay for the girls this time? William shook his head. No. I dont want to discourage him from sending future business our way. Besides, whats it really going to cost us? Well photograph here as they board the plane. When they turn up dead over there, well photograph again. It will be worth more than its weight in oil, he laughed. ***** Without Alexander Putnam IIIs presentation, the weekly staff meeting proceeded as usual. It was brief, and rather pointless. Randall explained that Alex was receiving counseling and would not be attending. He then led the group in a short invocation, asking the Almighty to come to the assistance of the young pastor who was clearly disturbed, after which, each member also said a token prayer. Prayed up and ready to go, they discussed some scheduling issues, reviewed a praise report indicating that attendance and nancial giving had increased over the same time last year, and then concluded the meeting with further prayers for their absent and obviously disturbed, missing coworker. Everyone led out of senior pastors ofce, down the long hallway, except Patricia, who quietly shut the door, while asking, Can I speak with you for a minute, Randall? Being alone in the room with his associate with the door closed made the pastor uncomfortable. Just for a minute, he said, dgeting with a pen on his desk. Does this have something to do with what you were going to bring up today at the staff meeting? Why didnt you want to go ahead with it?

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It wasnt the right time, she said, folding her pantsuit-clad legs as she sat, facing the desk. I am going to tell you, however, right now. Go ahead, Randall welcomed. Id be glad to hear about it. Patricia stumbled with her words a bit, hoping her discomfort would be noticed. I was eating out with Dwayne and the kids the other night at Carmellos... ...the fancy Italian place across town! he interjected. Yes. We were just sitting there, enjoying our meals, when I looked out the window, and there strolls by Meghan Kiplinger... ...Saul and Marys daughter! Randall interrupted again. Correct, responded Patricia, ghting off her irritation. Would this idiot just let her speak? Funny thing is, a few steps behind her, wearing a ball cap, and trying to act all incognito was our friend, Mr. Alex Putnam! she triumphed. You think they were together?! the senior pastor was genuinely surprised. Meghan had not attended church since the last ordeal. I know they were, she said smugly. In order to follow the proper protocol set forth in the Bible, I confronted Alex with it privately, before I came to you. He evaded all my questions. So what are we going to do about it? she asked, exerting a little pressure, damned certain this one wasnt going to get swept under the carpet as an insignicant indiscretion. Randall lifted an eyebrow at the question, and considered his options. His preference would have been to discuss the matter with Alex, hoping for some straight answers. But with Patricia sitting here in his ofce with the door closed, he had to come up with something better; and quickly. He had been very careful never to give others the opportunity to wonder about his relationship with his female associate. I will address it with him, and if it is indeed true, well have to reconvene the disciplinary committee, in order to remove him from the church, he said nally. Patricia smiled inwardly. You mean re him? she questioned, sounding quiet horried. That was the measure we had put in place the last time we met about this same issue. I really dont think there is any other way. Now get out of my ofce, before people begin asking questions, he urged telepathically.

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I just thought you should know, said Patricia with seriousness. Oh, and one other thing, she added. The time has come to make reservations for the annual denomination convention in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Do you want me to make the same arrangements I made last year? At the question, his concern about her close proximity with the door being closed waned. Last years resort convention had been a blast. Through some strange mixup, most of the other staff had been housed in a building far away from his accommodations. Oddly enough, Patricias room had been just next door. The same arrangements will be ne, he said, opening the door, so that each of them could reenter the world of religious propriety.

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Chapter 24

oitering casually in the foyer of the Congressional Library, Jack Grimsby attempted to process what had just been revealed to him by the librarian. Apparently, D.C. was a city built by the Craft, for the Craft. Within this backdrop, where did the relationship between Alexander Putnam II and The Duke come into play? What had the two of them talked about after he had been dismissed from the Putnam mansion? And what did the white gloved servant mean when he said that their magic ran deep? It was a mystery. He shut off his cell phone to the frustration of Kevin Militello scribbled some thoughts in his notepad, and looked up to see a giant black man lumbering through the doors. The agent guessed that he was close to seven feet tall, and all of three to four hundred pounds. Drawing nearer to the casually dressed hulking man, Grimsby tried to grapple with his enormity: size fteen feet, and hands with the circumference of big, cast iron, frying pans. Zeke Marlow, is that you? Grimsby asked, making note of the pudgy facial features of a child. The face was completely out of place on the massive body. Yes suh, the big African Americans hand smothered the agents smaller mitt, shaking vigorously. Citizens for Government Accountability, suh. Shall we nd someplace where we can talk? Follow me, said Grimsby leading to some tables in a forgotten corner of the building. I thought you might be a little older, he commented, taking off his trench coat. Yes suh. I get that a lot. Sometimes, things are not as they seem, he explained opening a backpack that looked comically small, next to his large frame. As he extracted a yellow legal pad and a pen, the deep bass of Marlows voice resonated, You see suh, I come from a youthful-looking gene pool. When my grandmother is all done up, she still manages to get catcalls from twenty year-old street thugs. So try to picture me as a big, black stealth bomber. This youthful appearance is the only way the bad guys dont see me coming! he chuckled. What can you do for me? Jack asked, wondering if maybe the Senator had steered him wrong. Citizens for Government Accountability is a non-prot organization that was created to work with whistleblowers, in an effort to restore the American system of government to its original purpose. Last year alone, our legal team closed fourteen cases which resulted in the arrest of twenty-three individuals; eighteen of which are still serving time. Youre a lawyer?

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Marlow shook his big head. Im no lawyer. They call me a scout. I research the cases before they begin in order to determine how to proceed. We have to weed out the disgruntled employees and others that just have political axes to grind, he explained unapologetically. Everything we discuss in this meeting will be kept in the strictest condence whether or not you have a case. At this time, I would encourage you not to identify yourself to me. Grimsby then described in detail without revealing names his observations regarding the ways The Duke and the Agency had been circumventing and ignoring federal, state, and local laws. As the discussion went on, Marlows questions made it obvious that Jack lacked the tangible evidence that would be needed to go ahead. While the agent had been present and could recall at least a dozen infractions; audio, video, or paper evidence would be needed to seal the deal. Based on everything youve told me, I think the Internet Service Provider payoff for access for the personal records of Congressmen is going to be our best angle. But you will have to go back to the ISP, wearing a wire. If we can get a recording stating everything youve just told me, heads will roll. This is the kind of story the media will lap up. Why would the media ever need to be involved? asked Jack, worried that maybe he was biting off more than he could chew. Media exposure would mean safety concerns for both he and his family. A story that gets good press creates pressure, Marlows voice rumbled. And public pressure is what makes heads roll. Grimsby was second-guessing himself. Maybe he should just suck it up for the next fourteen years, turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the illegal overreach of the Agency, to ride things out until he could collect his pension. But doing so would come at what cost? He had hardly seen his wife and kids in the last six months, let alone being able to grab a spare moment for himself. And more critically still, if he chose this path, would he be no better than Senator Charley Stanbridge; a man he had so greatly admired until today? Could he become just another public servant feeding at the trough of taxpayer dollars, while failing to protect the code of justice he had sworn to uphold? Hadnt Stanbridge advised him to just resign, with assurances that he would nd him another job? Why not do that? He could nd comfortable nine-to-ve work with weekends off. Wanda and the kids would be able to live a full life. He would be able to live a full life. But would he be able to live with himself? Zeke, tell me what I am going to have to do if were going to take this to the next level, stated Jack, opening the door for a troubling fate.

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The consultant shifted his weight and ipped down the yellow pages of the pad with one of his enormous black hands. Youre going to need to get some useful, recorded evidence from that ISP. If you can do that, well have a case. Ill consider it, Jack said, sounding as unconvinced as he felt. Will you want any help from us to set it up? Marlow offered. Grimsby stood and put on his trench coat, feeling deated. If I move ahead on this, Ill put it together myself. I thought you might feel that way, said Marlow, loading up his backpack. Once youve thought this through, call me back from a pay phone. This is as good a place as any to meet. Shaking hands with the agent, the mammoth consultant held rm, refusing to let go, beckoning eye-contact. When Jacks eyes nally rose to his, he said, Youre doing the right thing, brave suh. The country doesnt have a chance without men like you, brave suh. Jack was about to follow the big African American out the door when he heard a frantic voice calling from behind him. He turned, to see the assistant librarian, running awkwardly in her high heeled shoes, holding a large book up in her hand. Sir! Oh Sir! she panted, slowing a little, trying to catch her breath. Grimsby smiled at older woman, admiring her tenacity. Yes, maam, he replied. I was just on my way out the door. If you have another minute, theres one more thing to add to the little conversation we had this morning, she said, lifting the black-rimmed glasses that hung by a string around her neck to her nose. I just couldnt recall the title of this book when we were speaking before. But then I got to thinking, and was nally able to dig it up. There is, what some may call, a sense of deep mystery surrounding the Craft. What I am about to show you is a terric illustration of this fact. When I rst read these words, I couldnt believe my eyes. Anyway, I thought it might be a neat bit of information that you could share with that friend of yours who gave you the riddle about Washington D.C. I just have one minute, said the agent, knowing that Second-in-Command Militello was probably irate that Grimsby had been inaccessible to him for the past few hours. Now look here, the librarian dove in, ipping the thick, black, leather-bound book open, pointing her nger at the words opposite of a black-and-white picture of a wide-bodied,

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bearded man. Each spiritual movement has its own master philosopher. This dominating gure in the Craft was a man named Albert Pike. As the Grand Master of the Sovereign Council of Wisdom as well as being a top leader of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, Pike was no stranger to dark mysticism. It says here, that in the year 1871, he wrote a letter to a Mr. Giuseppe Mazzini, who many say was the founder of the Maa. Pike prophesied to Mazzini that there would be three world wars; claiming that each would be necessary to bring about a new, One World Order. She then began to read the abstracts from Pikes letter intently, spurred on by the agents deepening interest:
The First World War must be brought about in order to permit the Illuminati to overthrow the power of the Czars in Russia and to make that country a fortress of atheistic Communism. The divergences caused by the "agentur" (agents) of the Illuminati between the British and Germanic Empires will be used to foment this war. At the end of the war, Communism would be more deeply entrenched and used in order to destroy the other governments and in order to weaken the religions. The Second World War must be fomented to take advantage of the differences between the Fascists and the political Zionists. This war must be brought about so that Nazism would be destroyed and that political Zionism be strong enough to institute the sovereign state of Israel in Palestine. During the Second World War, International Communism must become strong enough in order to balance Christendom, which would be then restrained and held in check until the time it would be used for the nal social cataclysm. The Third World War must be fomented by taking advantage of the differences caused by the "agentur" of the "Illuminati" between the political Zionists and the leaders of Islamic World. The war must be conducted in such a way that Islam (the Muslem Arabic World) and political Zionism (the State of Israel) mutually destroy each other. Meanwhile the other nations, once more divided on this issue will be constrained to ght to the point of complete physical, moral, spiritual and economical exhaustion. At that point the Nihilists and the atheists will be unleashed, and shall provoke a formidable social cataclysm which, in all its horror, will show clearly to the nations that the effects of absolute atheism are savagery and bloody turmoil. Then everywhere, the citizens, obliged to defend themselves against the world minority of revolutionaries, will exterminate those destroyers of civilization, and the multitude, disillusioned with Christianity, whose deistic spirits will from that moment be without compass or direction, anxious for an ideal, but without knowing where to render its adoration, will receive the true light through the universal manifestation of the pure doctrine of Lucifer, brought nally out in the public view. This manifestation will result from the general reactionary movement which will follow the destruction of Christianity and atheism, both conquered and exterminated at the same time.

The librarian continued: In a postscript here, the author explains that although the terms Nazi and Zionist were not widespread during the late 19th century, both were concepts invented and funded by the members of the Craft, thus explaining the familiarity of the terms. Now what do you think about that!? she ushed, her face wild with excitement. Your friend told you a riddle about the inuence of the Craft on Washington D.C. But I am of

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the utmost impression, based on the lessons of history, that the Crafts inuence stretches well beyond our magnicent city! Every good agent eventually learns to trust his instincts. When new to the job, an investigator may nd that he initially doubts his hunches as mere suspicions. But as time wears on, and cases increasingly become solved by listening to gut feelings, one begins to gain a deep respect for such intuition. Ill need to sign out that book, said Grimsby heading back into the main building. The librarian, nodding her approval, followed closely behind. What in Gods name had he stumbled onto here? This was deep, deep magic, indeed. ***** The Duke was distracted. He had been instructed by Brother William to begin studying the ceremony rites, memorizing the answers to a variety of odd questions, which he was supposed to recite word-for-word. While such tasks were well within his mental capacity, his gaze hungrily fell upon a leaet that had been given to him by the Brothers, displaying the images of the high-class ladies now at his disposal. What the hell. There were several days before the initiation, and he had been drooling over three sweet-looking blondes. He dialed the number, read the code the Brothers had printed on the top of the page, and stated his preferences. They would be at his hotel room within the hour, requesting only that he be showered and exhibiting decent hygiene. He was informed that the ladies would arrive with their own preferred brand of protection. Grumbling with satisfaction, he closed the Book of Rites and poured from a bottle of expensive whiskey; another gift from his new Brothers. He had a feeling that it was about to be a very good afternoon. Showered and shaved, he sat on the bed in a hotel bathrobe, sipping from his glass. When the ladies nally arrived, he was relieved to see that he had not been a victim of false advertising. The girls were exquisitely dressed, adorned in beautiful jewelry, and appeared most lovely. He bantered with them, while the short-haired blonde of the group poured him another drink. With all the eye-candy slinking about, the agent failed to notice the small tablet, quickly dissolving at the bottom of his glass. A leggy vixen took him rst, while the other two set up a tripod and camera, giggling. The girls teased, and shared what naughty things they were about to do, guaranteeing that this would be one videotape he would want to watch over and over. The alcohol in

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his system and the babe along his thigh endorsed the plan, and he soon wondered if all of this might be over more quickly than he had rst imagined. It all had become a blur of esh and hot breath, with more writhing and groping than he would have ever thought possible. Ten minutes into the well-planned afternoon romp, things came to a grinding halt. Or so he thought. Slightly ashamed that he had been unable to go the distance, he lay on top of the shorthaired hooker, uncertain of what to do next. Reaching for a cigarette from the nightstand to his left, he was amazed to feel the click of handcuffs restrain him to the bed post. As the girl slid from beneath him, she pulled him off balance by his right hand, which then was clamped tightly into place and afxed to the other post. This was a kinky crew, alright. Why they wanted him face down remained a mystery. Turning his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of the short-haired blonde, belting something to her waist, while the other two fussed some more with the camera. His short-lived performance had obviously ruined the lming effort. But give credit to these young, hot babes; it seemed they were going to make sure the show went on, with or without him. He would just have to enjoy it on lm at a later date. Everything would be a hell of a lot more fun if the damn world would stop spinning. It was a curious haze into which he was now drifting. The naked girls were acting as though he wasnt present, talking quietly among themselves. It wasnt terribly exciting to watch. His lids closed, and he began drifting off towards sleep. His eyes came open suddenly, startled at the source of the pain. He heard the giggling of the two girls near the camera, as the short haired blonde who had approached him from behind violently gave as good as she had gotten. Stiing a scream, he buried his face into a pillow case in a vain attempt to preserve the smallest amount of dignity. After thirteen minutes of the unnatural act, the call-girls dressed, packed up the lm equipment, uncuffed their ragged, passed-out client, and disappeared from the hotel. They failed to leave behind a copy of the video.

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Chapter 25

and me your copy of the Ancient Words, commanded Anthony Coleman.

Alex pushed the book toward him, questioning: Why do you constantly refer to the Bible as the Ancient Words? You guys are always quoting the Scriptures, yet it seems not one of you ex-Illumined folks even own a copy! What gives there? he inquired curiously. As he answered, Coleman ipped through the pages searching for the words he sought. We refer to the Bible as the Ancient Words in order to remind us that its deep wisdom existed before our time. Because so many of us have been intensely trained in the ways of illumination, our natural tendency is to believe that wisdom ows outwardly from enlightened humans toward others who are less enlightened. The Great One alone is our source of wisdom. Therefore, when we refer to the Ancient Ways, we are simply enunciating our humility. We are basically saying, Nothing good can come from me, except that which has come rst from The Great One and his Messiah. The scientist explained further, answering the second question. We dont carry the books on our person, because if we were ever found with them, we would be tortured and executed. The Illumined Ones fear the words of the book because it contains the power to reveal them for who they truly are. By now, you must understand that the Illumined Ones only have power by perpetuating an illusion. The book undresses their illusion, revealing them as snakes. The illusion perpetuated by the Illuminati is that they are the Masters of the World. In reality, however, they have simply been appointed by the Light Bearer, Lucifer, to spread his brand of enlightenment to the corners of the earth. They have become the All Seeing Eye at the top of the pyramid who must guide the common masses below them. You know, Anthony, Alex interjected, I cant see how enlightenment could be all that bad. For instance, Jesus was called the light of the world in the Bible, and we are told that we should be children of the light. Also, when I dont know how to do something, wisdom tells me that I should seek out an enlightened person, who can shed more light on the subject. I guess what I am trying to ask here, the pastor continued, is how do you tell the difference between the crazed lunatics who want to control the world through illusions, and those people who are men of wisdom that we should be seeking out for guidance? The scientist slurped from his water bottle, jerking around in his seat, impatient with the question. It was past lunch now, and both men were growing weary.

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Youre right, of course, Coleman conrmed. Anyone who has been reborn into the Ancient Ways has become a child of light, and that light should pour out from them for all to see. The tricky part is how to separate the authentic children of light from the counterfeit. Take your senior pastor, for example. According to the political and business structure of this church, he is supposed to be the Enlightened One. His salary is biggest, he commands the greatest respect, and as long as his actions are consistent with the purview of the denomination, what he says goes. But truth be told, he is just a subtler form of a televangelist begging for money on TV. He is a greedy fool, who cares more about himself, than those who are under his authority in the congregation. He continued, Enlightenment is directly connected to authority. If an authority over you behaves as though he is an All-Seeing-Eye at the top of the pyramid, he is a counterfeiter; an Illumined One, whose primary goal is to enrich himself at your expense. His attitude says, I am at the top, therefore I know better than you. Because I know better, you owe me respect and should do as I command. However, if an authority over you is willing to become your servant, then they are truly an authentic child of the light. The Ancient Ways established this model through the Messiah. As the highest authority, he became the lowest point on an upside down pyramid, willing to serve all of those who were above him. His attitude said, I am the one with the greatest authority. Therefore, I will use my position of responsibility to serve you; improving your life by keeping your free. It was an aha! moment for Alex, and he paused from his typing to reect on how he had been conducting himself in the church. Had he been serving the congregation? Or had he been using his position of authority as a method to inate his pride? He didnt like what he saw. What had Nicodemus said? He was a fool because he was glib with broken people. The young pastors sudden realization didnt slow the scientist from explaining further. The Founding Fathers of the United States, set up a system of government that was to be run by public servants who were to be responsible to the people who elected them. But the Illumined Ones hijacked the government a long time ago, and now the general population have become accustomed to taking orders. For this reason, the greatest country of freedom in the history of the world has become a slave master over her own citizens; and its now being exploited by the Illumined Ones to enslave the entire earth! As Alex tapped away at the keyboard, he was overcome by a wave of disappointment, sensing their time was drawing to a close. Regardless of the mans distracting mannerisms, he believed he could probably sit for days listening to Anthony Coleman speak.

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Since that rst day when he had met Nicodemus, he continued to notice a shift taking place in his way of thinking. It was as though he were being deprogrammed from years of intensive brainwashing. Do you want to get a bite to eat before we nish up? the pastor asked the scientist, hoping he would agree. This has been swell, Coleman twitched with aggravation, but I think were about done here. Theres one last bit you need to get, before we never see each other again. I hope I havent been that hard to work with, said Alex, in an attempt to draw a little warmth out of the man. Its not you, he assured. Its this place. I cant think straight here. Its similar to the incessant buzzing of ies, zipping around my head, making it impossible for me to think straight! This church creates that kind of irritation in you? Alex asked skeptically. Church!? Coleman was unable to moderate his tone. You call this place a church? This is no church! But Im probably too biassed to go there with you! Slowly, he calmed down. Lets discuss this nal matter, then I will be gone, he said. Go ahead, encouraged Putnam III. Nature functions by certain laws, instructed the quirky scientist. The Illumined Ones cannot stand these laws, because they cannot alter them to suit their needs. Therefore, the best they can do is distract people by the illusion of feelings. Alex scratched his head. Youre going to have to give me an example here. Sure. There are hundreds of natural laws to pick from, but lets pick a topic that is currently hot in the West: the legitimacy of homosexual relationships. Even if we did not consider what the Ancient Ways consistently say on the matter, homosexuality is a violation of nature. In other words, if everyone were homosexual, humanity would cease to exist. This is a law like gravity; it is an unavoidable fact. You just like most people in the west have been so brainwashed on this topic, that what I am speaking about probably sounds like bigotry. So I am going to take a little time to unravel your social conditioning. Lets rst dene heterosexuality. Heterosexual relationships involve the monogamous, permanent bonding of a man and a woman for the reasons of committed

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love and procreation. Heterosexuality permits humankind to participate in the natural life cycle, where children are raised and taught to be responsible citizens of the earth. Now contrast that with homosexuality. Homosexual relationships exist as promiscuous encounters which are dened by sex for its own sake. Homosexuality only exists because some people are incapable or unwilling to form a heterosexual bond. Due to this deciency, homosexuals compensate, using sex as a replacement for committed love. The Illumined Ones have a very specic interest in homosexualizing the earth. They enlightened the west with their philosophies of sexual revolution and feminism in direct contravention of the Ancient Ways in order to make heterosexuals less successful at maintaining a permanent bond. For without a monogamous bond, weakness is introduced into the family unit, making it all the more vulnerable to illumined philosophies. It doesnt sound the least bit bigoted when you state it that way, observed Alex. Precisely! Look at it this way: When the Agency funded the development of feminism it was for the sake of homosexuality. When charitable foundations funded child molester, Alfred Kinseys sex research, it was for the sake of homosexuality. When the media began normalizing divorce, it was for the sake of homosexuality. When Stuart Stepner was funded to produce the rst pornographic magazine to the United States, it was for the sake of homosexuality. Wait a minute! Did you just say all porn is homosexual? Alex grimaced inwardly. Had his internet compulsions somehow negatively impacted his ability to have a permanent relationship with the woman of his dreams? Had he been scarred for life? Why had he treated this area of his life so carelessly? Absolutely! In specic terms, homosexuality is when people of the same sex copulate. But in broader terms, homosexuality is any force that works to weaken the heterosexual union, thereby rendering the family unit vulnerable to the intrusive manipulation by the Illumined Ones. But we have strayed from our topic. At the onset, we said that homosexuality is an obvious example of a philosophy that works against the Laws of Nature. Although this may be the case, it still did not alter the plans of the Illumined Ones who were determined to homosexualize society. Therefore, in order to succeed with their plan, they conditioned the minds of men to accept homosexuality, even though it is a threat to the survival of humankind. So how do they make us sympathetic to homosexuality even though it is such a destructive force? the pastor mused.

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Through our feelings, explained Coleman. Whenever the Illumined Ones run into a battle of logic that they know they cannot win, they transfer the focus to feelings. This is the predominant reason for the proliferation of television. Excuse me!? First the porn, now the television. Alex began to wonder if he had opened himself up to becoming a cesspool of deposited illumined philosophies. Television puts people into an hypnotic alpha state where their brains are no longer required to operate by logic. This makes them vulnerable to suggestions which play upon their emotions; their feelings. The Illuminati use the same tactics over and over. If the family unit persists in being an obstacle to the proliferation of their enlightened philosophies, they simply break it down, until it is so weakened, that it becomes powerless to resist. In like manner, if the Laws of Nature which are grounded in the Ancient Ways become an obstacle to enlightened philosophies, you simply must overwhelm humankinds logical precepts with feelings. For the past twenty years, television has been depicting homosexuals as quirky, caring, and fun-loving. In that same period, it has been portraying those who are opposed to homosexuality as bigoted haters. In like manner, the family unit is painted as a dysfunctional group, where the mother has all the common sense, the father is a complete moron, and the kids are rebellious loud-mouths. It was all staggeringly true, Alex realized, sensing his anger beginning to boil near the surface. All these years he had been played for a patsy. All these years, he had willfully cooperated with a system of reeducation that had manipulated him toward a homosexual frame-of-mind. The bastards! Anthony Coleman came to his feet, slipped on his coat, and began packing his bag as he continued speaking. Now lets apply what we know about the manipulative ways of illumination, as we consider the Laws of Conservation of Matter and Energy. Basically, these Laws of Nature state that nothing, whether it be matter or energy, can be added or taken away from the Universe. Consider this precept as it applies to the idea of globalization; specically in the area of trade. The Laws state that there are nite material resources. Yet the Illumined Ones are persistently bombarding us with messages from economists and business leaders, stating that if we reject global trade, America will be reduced to a third-world nation. Our minds have been pounded with this message so frequently, that even when logic informs us that the economy of our nation is in desperate shape because much of our

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manufacturing has moved overseas we still believe that we must have global trade in order to be prosperous. But heres whats really going on: The United States and her Constitution became an obstacle to the Illuminati and its enlightened philosophies. Therefore, America needed to be broken down, culturally, morally, and economically, to the point that it was so weakened, that it was powerless to resist the enlightened solutions offered up by the Illuminati. Coleman now had his hand on the doorknob, ready to spring from the building. You must remember that the Great One sees all, and knows all, Alex. If there is only a limited amount of material resources in the world, every time we buy cheap trinkets from China thinking were saving money, strictly because of a cheaper manufacturing process were ignoring the fact that Chinese workers are being exploited in order to satisfy our insatiable greed. This is the truth, regardless of the justications we might claim. Now remember that the way of illumination says, I am at the top, therefore I know better, and therefore you should do as I say. The underlying motive behind this proud outlook is to enrich one group at the expense of another. In recent years, America has been led down a path, whereby she has grown fat at the expense of others, while producing very little of value herself. This has occurred because our vision has become clouded by unbridled materialism; but the Great One sees all. The Laws of Nature come directly from the Great One, himself. His Ancient Words tell us to do unto others... and that pride goes before the fall. America has chosen to follow a path of illumination, and the consequences for her abandonment of the Ancient Ways is at hand. Dont be fooled: The Great Ones Laws which assign consequences for our agreement with the counterfeit philosophies of the Light Bearer are as reliable as gravity. Coleman opened the door, looking back for a second. Good luck to you as you write. Others will need to know of our impending doom.

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Chapter 26

emaining safely behind his closed door for the rest of the afternoon, Alex waited until he was certain all the other staff members had left for the day. He was starving but had no stomach for another run-in with Patricia. Locking the church he sprinted to his Jeep, wondering if he was a coward or merely practical. Minutes later, he pulled into his driveway, slung the computer case over his shoulder, and strolled out to the mailbox beside the busy road. He mindlessly ipped through some envelopes containing bills, and then felt a surge of adolescent curiosity ow through him. What did we have here? It was a black trifold, advertising a D.C. gentlemans club. The two ends of the glossy paper met in the middle, where they were stuck together by a silver sticky tab, functioning as the front clasp of a strippers, sequined brazier. Would opening the tab reward him with a private showing? Instinctively, he worked at the sticker with a ngernail, driven by a pang similar to that of a desperate heroine addict who had come upon a discarded, half-full syringe. Then, he stopped. No doubt the spooks were watching him. Would they have already gone through his mail? He forced himself to wait for a more private moment. Then, as he turned back toward the house, a ash of light temporarily blinded him. Low along the fence-line, something had briey caught the brilliant rays of the setting sun. It was an unfamiliar object, and he decided to investigate. He began ipping through the envelopes with casual deliberation, wandering aimlessly across the narrow lawn toward the direction of the reection. Perhaps the Agency had set up another camera. Did they take him for being a complete fool? When he had almost reached the area where he had seen the ash, he made a dramatic show of fumbling with the letters, scattering them toward the ground near the reection. Alex felt a sweet, sickening stab to his solar plexus when he realized the source. Two magazines shrouded in shiny plastic, welcomed their viewer with assetbaring cover-models, enticing him to open the pages and join their party. Shufing his newly-found treasure among the letters, he forced himself to walk slowly to the back door, even though his mind and body were whirring with anticipation. He could have cared less that he hadnt eaten a morsel all day. Hunger, and the memory of his afternoon discussions were overcome by a wicked compulsion; brought to life by inquisitive eyes, and an uncommitted heart. Tragically, in the whirlwind of excitement, he failed to consider how the girlie magazines had gotten there. There was now much work to be done: the bathroom would have to be re-inspected for transmitters; hot water would have to be run, making the place good

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and steamy in case he had missed a bug; the blinds would need to be drawn. Only then, would he unwrap the mystery. Only then, would he bravely embark upon his longawaited adventure into that forbidden land known as Pandoras Box. ***** Jack! Youre home early today. Whats happened? Wanda beamed as the kids piled onto their father. Her infectious smile told Grimsby all he needed to know. Today, I played hooky. I met with the Senator and a colleague of his, and was just about to go back to work, when I checked my phone. Kevin Militello, the guy whos been lling in for The Duke left me some charming messages, so I called in sick, and spent the rest of the day doing some independent investigation. What did the Senator think about your idea of whistleblowing on the Agency? Have you made any further decisions on that? Grimsby wrapped his arms around his two toddlers, blowing raspberries on their cheeks. Giggling and screaming with delight, they ran into the other room, tempting him to pursue. The Senator didnt think much of the idea, and Im having my own doubts as to whether its the right path to take. Stanbridge said that if I resigned, he would help me nd another decent paying-job. That would be a tempting offer, said Wanda, squeezing him tightly. Just as long as its nine-to-ve. Im not sure I could cope with a repeat performance of the last six months. Jack sighed, relaxing in the warm affection emanating from his wife. It made all the difference when Wanda was happy. He kissed her on the forehead while squeezing her hips. Let me help you get supper on the table. Should I open a bottle of wine? he winked. Its about time, you rascal! she teased, snapping him with a dish towel. Now tell me about your day. How did the rest of it go? He told her about the librarian and his initial doubts regarding the conspiracies she had proposed. Excitedly, he showed her the history book about the Craft, along with photocopies of further research he had done. As supper simmered, they sat at the kitchen table, sipping from their glasses, pouring over aerial photographs and documents, as their small boys wrestled in the living room. It had been a long time since Wanda had seen her husband so animated. Look at this, he said, pointing to the map. From what I have read, Washington was designed and aligned in order to channel what is said to be occult power. If you

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drew a line from the ancient Aztec city of Teotihuacan in Mexico, to the ruins at Stonehenge in England, youll nd that Washington D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York City, and Boston all fall along that same line. What are the odds of that? Wanda reected. Her husband was not a spiritual man, and she found his intensity toward this newly-acquired interest amusing. Now check this out, he said reading a caption beside an aerial photo of the nations government district. It says here that the Egyptian hierogram for the star Sirius is made of three distinct shapes: a ve-pointed star, an oval, and an obelisk. Now, he spread his hands out wide for effect, if you will permit me, I will now demonstrate where each of these reside in our fair city. Exhibit one: the streets that extend from the White house to Dupont Circle, Scott Circle, Logan Circle, Washington Circle, and Mt. Vernon Square. These, when connected, form an inverted ve-pointed star. Exhibit two: the Washington Monument, is an obelisk that can be viewed from exhibit three: the Oval Ofce. According to one historian, the entire city has been dedicated to the star Sirius, and its occult deities. Do you need still more evidence, dear student, that something strange is afoot? he parodied, the wine providing dramatic inspiration. His marriage was in desperate need of tonights levity. Yes I do! Wanda bantered, her eyes alive with mischief. Please tell me more, professor! Astronomical computations indicate that the Declaration of Independence was signed when the Sun passed over Sirius. The Sun was also covering the same bright star when the cornerstone of the Washington Monument was laid. The student batted her lids. It was laid, you say? Oh it was laid, alright. The whole damn city seems to have been designed around Sirius. So my next question for you now is this: Why would a secret society pay homage to ancient Egyptian deities, by designing our city in such a convoluted way? Were they smoking weed at the time? she raised an eyebrow in jest. You may not be a very bright student, but you sure are cute! Jack said, smacking her on the backside as she slipped by him to check the food cooking on the stove. Better watch it prof, I may have to report you to the Agency for sexual harassment! I know an agent over there whos a pretty tough guy.

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Jack sucked in his gut, trying to shift the substantial heft up his chest by pulling back his shoulders. And heres the most interesting part, he whispered, sidling up behind his wife. You know what an obelisk26.7 is, dont you? Im not a very bright student, Wanda pouted. Please tell me, great teacher. It is a phallus; and every phallus needs an oval. The phallus is the symbol of masculine dominance, the oval, a representation of submission. Really? she exhaled sensually. Grimsby continued the repartee by pulling away, pretending the heightened tension between them did not exist. Take a look at this map. Here is the Washington Monument, and here is the Oval Ofce. They are almost close enough to touch. So close, but yet so far, she murmured, imparting a soft kiss. The kitchen was beginning to heat up. Were hungry! yelled the rug rats, cooling things down as they ran into the room. With bibs in place and dishes served, the family communed together over a meal as all families should. Jack joined in the fun, though somewhat distracted. Half of his brain was buzzing with thoughts of his neglected wife and the night ahead. The other half was consumed by a nagging question: What was the signicance of Sirius: the bright star that astronomers claimed gave off the greatest light in the night sky? Did it really have the power to make the Oval Ofce submit? ***** It had been a hard day for George Talbott. With Monk by his side, he had conrmed his New York appointments to resign from the Council on Foreign Relations and the Trilateral Commission. A nal meeting with the Council of Thirteen would terminate his membership with both the Bliderberg, and the Eyes of the World. Using a legal team recommended by Monk, a plan had been put in place to dissolve The Talbott Foundation in its current state, reconguring it to be a vehicle for more productive endeavors. The same attorneys were now altering the old mans nal will and testament. Every move was carefully thought out, yet remained completely dependent on timing. With every passing day it became clearer that time was running out. It was an unpredictable thing, the cancer feeding off of his esh. Some days he felt as though he were sixty again, capable of putting in an eighteen hour day. On others like

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today he just wanted to give up and die. It seemed the disease was now targeting his involuntary muscles, forcing him to make conscious exertions just to breathe. The two men were now reclining by the replace, brandy in hand, after an early supper. Im not sure I have much longer, dear friend, uttered Talbott, his grey face and hunched-over posture revealing a defeated outlook. There is still so much to do; so much I must tell. I fear the time is becoming too short. Monk forced himself to not dwell on his friends appearance. We must remember the Ancient Words at times like this. The Great One has numbered the hairs on your head He knows how many days are left in your old bones. We must now, more than ever, trust him to push us by his mighty hand, always remaining condent, that what may seem to be the end in this life, is only the beginning of the next. It is too easy to forget the Ancient Words in this chasm of pain, sputtered Talbott. Monk, do a favor for a dying man, will you? Throw me a few dozen extra pills tonight as a gift to send me off into the next world. You can complete what needs to be nished here. Youre right, old friend. I could nish it all right now, said the cleric gently. The trouble is, if I fullled this wish of yours, I would be robbing you of the honor that is due you on the other side. The next life is but a continuation of what we have begun here on earth. It was at the moment of your rebirth, that the Messiah made you into a new creation. While it is true that a new, healthy body will be yours in the next life, your human spirit has already been made new by him in this life. Therefore, you must commit to a spirited effort, drawing on the supernatural power which liberates your soul. In your moments of greatest desperation, use this great power to quieten the noisy complaints of your body. You must not allow the growing weakness in your limbs to distract you from nishing strong. Talbott sighed, looking into the ickering ames. What does it matter, whether I nish strong or nish weak. The greater part of my life has been dened by my evil deeds. I am deserving of the deepest, darkest, pits of hell. You know? I know, Monk consoled. We are all deserving of hell. There is an innate wickedness living in our esh, that, if permitted to remain alive, will dominate our future, enlisting us as rebels against the Great One. This wickedness is called pride. Before you were reborn into the Ancient Ways, feeding that rebellious part of you made you feel in control of your life. It made you feel powerful. Monk reached his hand out, to grasp the withered, limp hand of his friend. The Great One has now permitted you to become weak. Your once proud soul is no longer in control. It is fragile, lled with discouragement, and self-doubt.

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Your cancer is but a consequence of living in a dark world under the inuence of the Light Bearer. But make no mistake: The Great One gave his permission, allowing the tumors to take hold. Monk lowered his head to better look into the face of his friend. The Great One knows there are more important things than the comfort of your body in this short life. So count the weakness you currently feel as a gift from heaven. It is the very thing that will release the spiritual strength youll need to complete the mission thats been assigned to you. Talbott nodded painfully. Though his body continued to beg for death, he somehow felt stronger.

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Chapter 27

wo hundred and sixty miles to the north, Felicity Morgan set thirteen places around the table for the nights meal in a locked-down safe-house. It had been a special afternoon: all of the girls had enjoyed several hours of fresh air in the country. Unlike a previous outing, their armed guards actually permitted them to move about freely in the rural isolated eld along the Hudson River. The sunny autumn day brought a warm radiance to their skin, and had lifted everyones spirits. Aside from their appearance, there was no immediate pattern which linked the girls together. They heralded from many different regions of the country. Some had been abducted in the suburbs, while others had been picked up off the street to be sobered up and made pretty. Several had deep-seated psychological problems. All were long-boned girls in their late teens, chiseled with the ne features most treasured by Aryan connoisseurs. Their high cheekbones, healthy complexion, and elegant stature would have made an outsider ogle. But these were goddesses who were destined to be tucked away; hidden from the world... for a time. Five-and-half months ago, Felicitys life as it had once been had come to an end. Standing eagerly in the foyer of her home, she had waited for the limousine to arrive. It was prom night, and she looked like a princess. She and her mother had spent the day together, going to the spa, getting their nails and hair done, and visiting the orist. It had been a magical day. A day which came to an abrupt halt after she kissed her mom and dad goodbye, promising to be home by eleven-thirty. Instead of driving three blocks down the street to her girlfriends house, the limousine driver ignored her desperate pleas, and merged onto the freeway out of town. Five vehicles, and two days later, she arrived at the safe-house in New York City. Helpless and vulnerable, it seemed as though her body would never stop shaking. She prayed and prayed, trusting that her Messiah would miraculously provide an opportunity for escape. None came, but she refused to give up hope. The distress associated with her prom-night kidnapping, was compounded by the heartache she felt for her parents and siblings. In the deep canyon of her all-consuming loss, she could the hear the echoes of her fathers desperate wailing and feel her mothers tears upon her cheeks. Frightened and lonely she was, but Felicity was not going to end up alone. Other girls were already present at the house when she arrived, and more were added in the week that followed. No one spoke for those rst few days. Nobody touched their

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food. When the shock eventually wore off, it was replaced by uneasiness as the girls waited for the other shoe to drop. When molestation was not immediately forthcoming, the captives speculated that they had become victims of a human trafcking ring. They each tried guessing what their nal destination would be, promising the others, that if one escaped, they would send for help. But eeing seemed inconceivable. The door leading into the living quarters locked from the outside, where two guards constantly monitored the hallway. Impossible to reach windows, situated near the roof of the cathedral ceiling, and several skylights let in natural light during the day, but could not be used for escape. And yet, despite these conning conditions, the residence hardly felt like a prison. They ate beautifully prepared, catered meals, with attention given to nutrition. An impersonal matron rmly instructed them to follow a daily training regimen in the basement gym, and also encouraged the use of the tanning beds and indoor swimming pool. Eventually, the group fell into a routine. Their lives became governed by meals, TV shows, workouts, and the ceaseless mental assault of movie time. Most every day at 2PM, the girls were herded into the home theater where for three hours, they were bombarded with pornographic lms. During the rst ve days of the routine, Felicity clenched her eyes and plugged her ears in horror, tearfully praying that God would end it all. All of the girls were thinking the same thing: Were they simply being desensitized for a life of endless violation? When would it begin? Could it possibly end well? In the three weeks that followed, Felicity relented, watching the lms; learning from them. She made it a cold, intellectual exercise, unwilling to allow herself to become aroused. In the ensuing months, she and several of her friends would just tune it out. For them, it had become a boring exercise in drudgery. Movie time now became an occasion to talk or play cards in the ickering darkness, completely oblivious to the gyrations and moaning coming from the screen. In the rst couple of months, the girls gravitated to one of two different groups who followed a respective leader. Four of the girls were drawn to Felicity, and seven others formed a group around Marissa, one of the girls who had been plucked from the street. The calm ve, when not busy with household chores, could often be found whispering in a quiet corner: encouraging one another; praying to be rescued. The trauma of being abducted while living in constant uncertainty about the future, led the group to form an tight bond of support. Of the four other girls in the group, Felicity showered the most attention on Elsie, who was the youngest, smallest, and the most vulnerable.

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Elsie Patton had left home at thirteen, after enduring two years of sexual abuse by her step-father. The day after she had worked up the courage to tell her mother the truth, she moved onto the streets. Her mom, somehow threatened by the accusations, called her a meddlesome bitch, slapping her across the face. Because Elsie didnt know who her real father was, few options were available. In her three years of street life, Elsie became pregnant twice. Both were aborted at a Jacksonville clinic funded by the Talbott Foundation. After hearing her story, Felicity was touched that this wayward soul had found comfort in the calm ve; a group whose other members came from fairly stable family backgrounds. The wild eight, on the other hand, were no strangers to troubling pasts: three had been living on the streets, and the other ve had been haplessly stoned or drunk when they had been kidnapped. Once they had settled into the safe-house, and had become reasonably convinced that immediate harm was not a threat, Marissa and the wild eight began unleashing their deviltry. At rst, Felicity tried to reign-in the groups more aggressive behavior by offering friendship, and kind words. While they didnt respond to her advances with rudeness, the rowdy unit sent a very clear message: You aint one of us, sister. Back off, and well let you be. No one messes with the wild eight. And wild they were. Their favorite pastime was the not-so-subtle art of hurling crude insults at each other, occasionally escalating to full-on wrestling and hair pulling. Once the initial shock of movie time had worn off, they would spend the entire three hours putting their verbal talents to good use, mocking, mimicking, and commenting on each scene, demonstrating their able command of profane language. At times, the wild eight would disappear for an hour or so after the lms were over, only later to emerge quiet and sullen. And there was not a day that went by, when they wouldnt provoke the guards to prove their manhood. Regardless of the wild-eights provocations, none of their caretakers showed any interest. The guards were rigidly robotic, and eerily silent. Every matron who served food, cleaned the house, and did the laundry failed to respond, or demonstrate any irritation when the girls used obscenities. Everyone seemed closed and cold. Everyone except for Madame Chantalle. Madame had been hired to teach the girls etiquette. Twice a week after supper, the heavy-set woman would explain the importance of good posture, how to dress and put on makeup in a way that created beauty, the various nuances of cultured manners, and how to carry on a civilized conversation. Her favorite pupil was Felicity, and an unspoken bond had formed between the two of them; a mother-daughter connection. One night, after the lessons had been completed for the evening, Felicity hovered near Madame Chantalle who was packing her attach case desperately wanting to ask

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for her assistance in escape. It was customary for the guards to be noticeably present during the teachings, but at that moment they were distracted as the wild eight had degenerated into a knock-down, drag-out ruckus. I need to get out of here, Felicity whispered, glancing over her shoulder. The guards remained preoccupied, wading through ngernails and sts. I need to get back to my parents. Can you help me? Madame continued packing. When she replied, she spoke under her breath: Dear, if I helped you escape I would be aiding and abetting a prisoner. I dont know what you did to get into this juvenile facility, but I am sure, once your time has been served, you will have a new lease on life. The warden has told me not to speak personally with any of you. He has also told me not to give you anything. I have already broken the rst rule with all of you girls, but I am going to break the second only with you, sweet Felicity, she removed a small, leather bound booklet from her satchel. If the other girls or the guards know you have this, I will get into some serious trouble. Hide it, and learn about the old ways. Explain what you learn to any of the other girls who will listen. It will bring you hope, until the day when you are set free. But I havent done anything wrong! Felicity protested desperately. I was kidna... Hey you! Get away from that teacher! the muscled guard snapped, as he refocused his attention away from the ongoing melee in the living room. Go directly to your bedrooms! You brats want to ght, well lock down the place. Go to your rooms immediately! Teacher, you are going to need to leave right now, he grabbed Madame by the arm pulling her to the doorway. Distressed, Felicity caught Madame mouthing the word sorry in her direction as she was escorted out of the room. Shoving the book into the front of her jeans, she retreated to her tiny bedroom. Within minutes, the doors to all of the rooms began slamming shut, and locks turned. Hope you girls dont have to use the facilities, because were in lock-down til morning! When you start to show you can behave, things will go back to normal! As the boot clad feet pounded down the hallway, Felicity could hear the members of the wild eight hurling vile insults at the guards. Within a few minutes, all had settled down, and was quiet. In the silence of that night, and for many thereafter, she relearned the Ancient Words taught to her in her youth. By placing the small lamp from her dresser under her blankets, she could read without having light spill under her door into the hallway. Once sleepy, she would carefully pry the heater register from the oor, placing the book in the ductwork, as far as her slender arm could reach. Daily, she became all the more convinced that they could forever trap her body, but they could never have her soul.

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After that time, Madame and Felicity had been able to make a personal connection only rarely. Each time, the older woman would tell her to be patient, that she loved her and believed in her, and to obediently see her time at the detention center through. Felicity wanted to tell her teacher everything. About the abduction. About the disgusting movie times. About being scared of what the future held. But she bit her tongue. The guards were always within earshot now, so she must just bide her time. More than anything, she wanted Madame to hold her; to comfort her with the news that she would be her advocate and protector; that no one would ever steal her away again from the safe life that every American girl deserved. But that was an impossibility. Knowing she was trapped and helpless, she began thanking the Messiah every single day for being her advocate and protector. He remained her only hope. And now, as she placed the silverware around the large oval table while Elsie lled water glasses, she had the distinct impression that they were being watched. Looking up, she half-expected to see one of the matrons, wheeling in a cart-full of food. Instead, there was an older, trench coat-wearing, grey-haired man, standing just inside the door staring in her direction. Was she mistaken, or had he just been undressing her with his eyes? ***** Of the half-dozen worthwhile thoughts Putnam III could have been focusing his attention on in that moment, what lay beneath the plastic wrapping of a girlie magazine was not one. His brain was on re, overcome by curiosity; his gut churned with anticipation. The strange coincidence of receiving a gentlemans club mailing, on the same day as nding two unopened porno magazines didnt cross his mind. That he had just yesterday narrowly escaped a compromising situation of sexual entrapment, failed to register. That he had just learned that Nicodemus may have been compromised by his unwillingness to follow the old mans directions about recording their sessions failed to tug at his conscience. That a beautiful young woman who was strong and condent, while dening the very word lovely likely held a romantic interest in him, was not even on his radar. And by damn, he cared less that he hadnt eaten a bite of food all day! First there was the yer, and that sticky tab holding shut that sequined brazier. Then there were those bikini clad girls on the covers of the magazines. Would they be as gorgeous with all their clothes off? Running a hot shower to steam up the bathroom, he once again tore apart the room, double-checking for hidden transmitting devices, as he went through all the possible photographic scenarios in his head.

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When the time came, he sat, fully clothed on the toilet, holding the prizes on his lap, his body buzzing with electricity. Strangely, it was these few seconds before the unveiling that were the most climactic for him. Once the items were opened, and he began to gaze upon the naked truth, disappointment would eventually overcome him. It always did, because the experience always repeated the same pattern. The same airbrushed tans; the same poses; the same fake facial expressions denoting pleasure; the same surgically enhanced body parts; the same conclusion: what, pray tell, was so exciting about this? He would do well just to tuck the magazines away somewhere, leaving them unopened, for that seemed to be where he found his greatest thrill. All of the confusion surrounding these bizarre responses would have been cleared up, had Alex been present, thousands of years earlier, when the mystical Kabbalists had made a great discovery: Humankinds innate drive for intimacy and reproduction could be exploited by dark magic. Rogue, semitic priests, had come to realize that spiritual energy could be deployed and harvested through sex; in a manner similar to the ancient practice of human sacrice. But the power was limited, because the magic could only capture willing participants. Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews, had rescued his people from slavery in Egypt, and had given Moses specic laws, intent on safeguarding his chosen people from dark magic, and its consequent enslavement. These laws were of great frustration to the sorcerers until they discovered a solution for their dilemma. While evil men could be easily manipulated, and therefore made excellent pawns in the Great Plan to create a New World Order, good men, who had sworn an allegiance to the Ancient Ways of Yahweh, were infectious obstacles to the plan, and therefore, had to be eliminated. In addition to this, the Kabbalists experiences throughout history had proven a troubling, consistent law of nature: The slaughter of righteous men, only led to their multiplication. The more that righteous blood was spilled, the more powerful the side of righteousness, became. This was a conundrum the sorcerers had to overcome. An ambitious young rabbi named Taziz decided to tackle the problem. He went on a hunger strike, telling the spirits that he would not eat, until he heard from the mouth of the Light Bearer himself, the secret to destroying the power of men who were loyal to Yahweh. Nearing starvation after forty days and nights, a voice, sounding like cymbals told him the answer to the mystery. The clanging bells said, Learn of the tactic used in the Garden. The fruit is always sweetest when it is forbidden. Therein lies your answer: Fruit is only forbidden if a man is loyal to righteousness. Subtlety is the solution. Expanding a loyal mans curiosity into an unknown world, while untethering him from the protection of the Ancient Ways,

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will always take time. So be patient! The further along he goes, the less powerful he will become. He will then die as nothing more than a debilitated child. And the enigma of Pandoras Box was revealed. In the passing years, the dark mystery had been used to neutralize millions of men once loyal to the Ancient Ways, including the mighty Hebrew leaders: Samson, and Solomon. And it was about to work its magic on Alex, when he was startled by the phone buzzing in his pocket. It was another message from Monk.
Will c u at church Wed. Have no worry for tomorrow. -M

Well that was nice, he thought. What could it possibly mean? Screw it! What was inside the pages beneath the plastic covering? It was driving him crazy! The Light Bearer was smiling. And waiting. ***** All day long, Meghan had been quizzed by co-workers and bank patrons as to why she was so happy. Growing weary of the question, she eventually began to consciously hide her smile; forcing a straight face. Was she falling in love? She thought of calling him, knowing that if she did, he would come in heartbeat. But Alex had advised against this. He was paranoid that the Agency had not only bugged the house, but also his phone. Putting together a small meal with the TV droning-on in the background, she wondered what it would be like to have Alex with her all of the time. Instead of the static streaming over the airwaves, they would be sipping wine, talking about their day. They would be making plans for Thanksgiving, and Christmas too. Would they have children? If they did, what kind of a father would he be? The impromptu thought was startling; she had not considered it before. He was big, strong, and fun, but did he have the depth of character to lead a family? Would he be able to protect them, in an increasingly hostile world? Meghan caught herself staring aimlessly out a window, daydreaming, wondering if Alex would share in any part of her day-off tomorrow. Coming back to reality, she considered whether or not there was a real man, beneath that charming veneer, who was only now beginning to emerge. Just to be sure, she said a prayer.

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Chapter 28 T
he Duke, dressed in his formal best, walked awkwardly down the hallway toward the elevator, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. He was a long-time whiskey drinker and could pack back quite a few without feeling such ill-effects. Had one of those damned prostitutes slipped something in his drink? It felt like it. He had awakened from his slumber an hour earlier, faced-down and naked, trying to remember the last four hours, worried that he had missed his dinner engagement with the Brothers. After assembling a few of his wits about him, he showered, dressed, and made a half-hearted effort to study from the Book of Rites. It wasnt coming easily. The combinations of words in both the questions and the answers were convoluted, and were not natural to recall. The dinner was to be served in the banquet hall of his swank hotel, where the Brothers had planned for an exclusive and very private evening. He had been told that tonight would be an informal gathering of those who would be attending the ceremonies on Friday night. It was to be a meet and greet of the new Agency Director, who would ofcially be appointed in the next few months. He found the Matre D and gingerly followed him to the elegantly appointed banquet hall. The Duke hoped that tonight would go smoothly, considering that the events of the afternoon had not gone quite as planned. The hookers, while classy and sassy, had ended up being a real pain in the ass. Literally. Ah, there he is! Mr. Duke, let me introduce you to Admiral Joseph Johnson. And over here we have General Kip Bullinger. Gentlemen, please meet Mr. Duke, our new Agency Director, said brother William, raising his glass. The Duke stify shook hands with the men, wondering if he would make it through the night. The room was lled with more than fty dignitaries and their wives; men who could turn the world with one word from their mouth. Hobnobbing with people was not The Dukes forte. At that moment, he would have preferred to be slithering into a dark hole somewhere. A few drinks, and thirty-nine handshakes later, his tune had changed. Many of these men directed the affairs of the world through their ofcial positions in the United States. And here they were, sidling up to him, vying for his attention. In many of their eyes, he could sense their deference; their desire for each of their names to be remembered. General Andersen, Major Kendall, Director Nieman, Assistant Director Lockhart, CEO Clyman, CFO Thiesen, Chairman Halberg... more handshaking, and more respect.

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Agitation rose up within him, however, when a few of the top brass hard-looking men who treated him dismissively made it obvious that he was their subordinate. He made a mental note of their names. He would have to play nice, until he could create a thick le on each of them. Assistant Secretary Truman, General Mann, Chairman Franks, Senator Lassiter, and Congressman Smythe... Finally they were directed to be seated for dinner. The Duke found his place at a large round table, with Brothers William and Philip on one side; the unfriendly military hardasses completing the circle. The Master of Ceremonies stood behind the the podium and ordered: Please clear the room. At this time, all hotel staff must clear the room. At these words, the green jackets, starched white shirts, and bow-ties, scurried out the doors like ants. Men in dark suits and ear-pieces took up positions around the room, ensuring it was securely cleared, and that the doorways were sealed. We are gathered here tonight, the affable speaker said, to welcome a new member to our esteemed ranks. The Duke could feel all of the eyes in the room directed his way. He stood tall, shoulders back, a dead expression on his face. The scent of testosterone at that moment was tangible, he thought. Though he may not be a physical threat to many of these meat houses, he silently vowed to be a worthy adversary for the best of them. These military-types might be ripped with machoism and muscle, but he had cunning; cunning that was wicked in its effectiveness. Let us face east, in the pledge of Brotherhood, directed the speaker. As one man uniforms and tuxedos; decorated men and those in ne suits they turned to the left wall and recited the oath. The Duke mouthed along hesitantly, wishing he had studied harder. Brothers of Light, we shall shine bright, purging darkness from the soul. We shall command the right, to bring our ght, to those who refuse to pay the toll. Our bond is as deep as our swords cut deep, into the sleep of humankind. So we bring our light, shining ever bright, to vanquish the slumbering mind. Amen and amen, concluded the Master of Ceremonies. Let us now enjoy our meals, and if you have not already done so, please introduce yourself to Mr. Duke. At that, the doors were reopened, and the green jackets, starched white shirts, and bow ties began ooding the room with plates of food and bottles of wine. Philip leaned in the direction of The Duke, speaking quietly enough so that only his brother William, and the agent could hear. Youre looking tired tonight, Mr. Duke. Our

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ways must be tiring you out! Youll no doubt be looking forward to returning to Washington after this week. The Duke drained his glass, steadying his nerves. The unpleasant uniformed slabs of muscle opposite him were talking quietly among themselves, and he knew they were sizing him up. He was beginning to feel like a small sh in a big pond. Turning to face the brothers, he attempted to give a convincing performance as a big sh. Ive been reviewing the material you gave me concerning foreign relations in preparation for tomorrows meetings. Im beginning to get a handle on it. I knew we found the right man! pronounced Philip. You keep studying. And remember, mixing a little business with pleasure is a great way to stay in balance. Thats what the girls from the service are there for. He paused momentarily, then patted the pockets of his suit jacket, as if struggling to nd something he believed he may have lost or forgotten. The Duke held his breath. Oh! There it is! he said with a look of mock relief. Sweet Nikkita from the service said she wanted to put this on a disc for you. He slid a transparent, plastic case containing a DVD across the table. They do put on quite a show, dont they? The naughty minxes. Sometimes the show is so good, its worthy of making copies, whispered Philip with a smile. ***** Can I help you? Felicity inquired of the man in the grey trench-coat, while maneuvering to put Elsie behind her. The newcomer was of average height, but seemed small next to the steroid-enhanced guard standing next to him. His egg-shaped head was barely covered by an illconceived comb-over, which did little to soften the appearance of wrinkled skin drooping from his dark, sunken eyes. Please gather all the girls, he commanded in a steady British accent. The time had come, then. This was the moment they had all be dreading. The moment when the physical abuse would catch up with the mental torture that had already been foisted upon them. Felicity sent Elsie to call the girls, while she continued to fuss over the table, her heart in her throat. She began praying, begging for God in heaven to release her from the suffering she anticipated was ahead. The girls lined up nervously in front of the man, and he appraised each of them hungrily.

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My name is Maxwell, he announced, and I am here on behalf of your sponsor. Tonight I will be taking one minute of your time to determine your future. As the man spoke, Felicitys group, the calm ve, subconsciously arranged themselves behind their leader. It was not a move that went unnoticed. What would you rather? he asked. Would you rather be rich? Or famous? If youd rather be rich, stand over here to my left. If youd rather be famous, here on my right. At his instruction, the wild eight scrambled to form two groups. Apparently, six wanted to be rich, leaving Marissa and one other girl who wanted to be famous. The calm ve stayed put, waiting for a question that would never come: How many of you just want to go home? Interesting, mused Maxwell, looking at the three groups. He eyed the calm ve suspiciously, through narrowed eyes. You ve dont want to be rich or famous? I nd that hard to believe. Nonetheless... he trailed off, moving closer to the girls who wanted to be rich. Spread out now, so I can take a better look at each of you. He inspected every angle, sometimes hovering his hand over their bodies, but never willing to touch. A touch would not have increased the violation. His eyes were quite capable on their own. Even the wild eight recoiled when he drew near. He was a lthy, limey pervert. Moving back to where the calm ve stood, he stopped, as if struggling with a thought. Suddenly, he turned back toward the two groups of girls created by the wild eight, and asked, Which of you girls were brought in off the street? Marissa and her pal in the famous group raised their hands, along with one other from the rich group. Elsie was cautiously lifting her arm, when Felicity inconspicuously tugged it downward. Alright, nodded Maxwell approvingly. You, he pointed to the girl with the raised hand in the rich group, you join my famous ladies, he gestured. Do you three ladies have any objections to cosmetic surgery? You know, a little tuck here, a little extra up here, he said grappling his chest. It wont cost you a dime. Your sponsor will cover it all. Bring it on! Marissa whooped, before she began having second thoughts. Tell me Maxwell, she moved her neck with a chicken-like motion into direct-line with the wicked, weathered face, what kind of crap are we going to have to do to get star treatment like that?

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Yellow, smoke-stained teeth emerged with his wide smile. You dont have to do anything you arent prepared to do. The deal is, you get the star treatment, and you get to be famous. I am not a man who is prone to lying. What about us? one from the rich group asked. Whats going to happen to us? You also will get the star treatment, he said, humor in his dark eyes. While this group over here is at the surgeon, you will be in the nest Park Avenue shops acquiring a new wardrobe. So now is the time to begin acting as the proper young ladies that you are. And what about them? asked Marissa, lifting her nose to indicate the calm ve who were huddled closely together, hoping to remain unnoticed. These, he said disparagingly, have chosen differently. Be happy for the path youve taken, and dont give these girls a second thought.

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Chapter 29 I
t was still early in the evening, but George Talbott was in bed. He wanted to conserve energy, ensuring that he would be able to make the trip to New York on Thursday. Though Monk had planned for the doctor and a driver to accompany him, he knew that breaking his ties with the Brotherhood would take a toll on him. As nights darkness began creeping over his bedroom, he looked up at the ceiling, imagining how his life would have been different, if only he had made different choices. Would his daughter now be looking after him in the midst of this illness, instead of this merry band of monks? Would his son be sitting bedside, longing to spend some quality time with his old man, knowing how much he would miss his father once he was gone? He tossed and turned, vacillating in and out of self-pity for a while, before turning his thoughts to Putnam III. Alexander was nothing more than an orphan who still had his parents. The insecurities; the reactiveness; the seething rage; and the compulsive behavior; were all very familiar. He too had grown up as an orphan with parents, and had raised his own children to be orphans. It was an empty life, he brooded, growing up without a father in ones corner. It made a young man incapable of condently facing the challenges of the world without becoming prone to some sort of vice. It saddled a poor soul with all kinds of avoidable consequences, rendering the best intentioned male, incapable of making wise decisions. His willful collusion with the Brotherhood to continue weakening the dominant masculine inuence over the earth pained him. Thanks to his efforts, young men like Alexander were doomed to fail. And what of his children? What of his sons that had yet to be born? What kind of life could they expect? Had the Illumined Plan reached the point of no return? Why didnt anyone study history? Couldnt they see what was right in front of their noses? In the past, whenever one population was conquered by another, the men were either killed or enslaved, while the women and children were integrated into the victorious civilization. Destroying men29.3 was the key to the illumined philosophy of survival of the ttest. Terminating the masculine inuence of a civilization eliminated any resistance which might later threaten the domination of the conquering culture. Illumined philosophers knew that the culture of the west had been established on Judeo-Christian values, which shaped boys into chivalrous men of honor. Chivalry was a righteous quality that prompted men to protect and provide for their families. But this noble trait could be exploited, by tugging on a mans sense of loyalty to his country.

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The orchestration of two World Wars surpassed the Illumined Ones expectations. With millions slaughtered on the battleeld or detained for years in foreign nations, women were introduced to factory work, and could taste the freedom of being their own breadwinner. A carefully crafted enlightenment of the female gender would now gain momentum. When psychologically scarred survivors returned from war, the Baby Boomer generation was conceived. A society that was already struggling with the loss of masculine inuence now faced the challenge of adjusting to two leaders in the household. In this environment, the new generation of youth became the target of a skilled, cultural manipulation. The Baby Boomer generation was ripe for external psychological conditioning. Their fathers many of whom had experienced the horrors of war continued to faithfully bring their families to church, but really didnt believe in anything. How could they? How could a loving God permit such atrocities like the Jewish Holocaust? Mothers who once knew a dened role, became distracted by many new options. Children were left in a cultural vacuum. The customary sources of family guidance and protection had been compromised. Talbott remembered those exciting days of planning and the extensive rituals used to recover the blood of the men lost in battle much as Hitler had done with the Jews, who he had used as his burnt offering in order to unleash a powerful delusion over the nation. The Illumined Ones incanted for months, calling for burning light to sear the minds of unenlightened people, that they would reject the stale traditions established by the past, to embrace a New Order. As a leading gure in the Eyes of the World, George Talbott had been the brains behind co-opting the Agency to do the Illumined Ones eld work. For years, chemists at the Bureau had been working on developing an effective truth serum. It had taken very little prompting to get them to use their labs to manufacture for prot hallucinogens. Agents could then attend the burgeoning rock concert circuits to encourage people to see psychedelic new lights, while the cash began to ow. With the inux of new, untraceable money which could be funneled to black-ops, the Agency became committed partners of the Brotherhood, using their intel and unsuspected planes and boats, to assist in the global drug trade. With the relationship between the Illuminati and the Agency rmly cemented, the Bureau also became the logical choice to execute an array of cultural programs, including the propagandizing of women. By funding inuential feminists, they were able to establish womens magazines, which were used as megaphones to get other women to join the cause.

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Then, with chills going up his spine, Talbott recalled the day when Timothy Lancaster a Knight of the Brotherhood went into a trance during the Rites of Incantation. His eyes rolled back into his head, and a deep voice that was not his own spoke ercely, saying that if the New Order was going to succeed, more blood would be required. The call for blood was not an unusual request. Everyone who has reached the pinnacle of illumination knew that the the most powerful occult magic was conjured by one of two means: blood, or sodomy. But the trance and the voice was something new to them all. For months they deliberated about what to do. The world was not yet ready for another major global conict. It was then, that a Brother suggested that they speak to one of the Nazi eugenicists he had rescued after the war. This Brother, an American oil baron, had funded many of Hitlers eugenics projects. In an effort to continue the research after the war, he snuck hundreds of Nazi scientists to the United States, protecting them from being prosecuted for war crimes. It was through this Nazi defector, that the Illuminati were introduced to Margaret Sanger. Sanger was a feminist and a racist who wanted the United States purged of Blacks. America was already toying with the sterilization of inferior humans, but the country had yet to completely embrace the idea. Therefore, she claimed the best way of cleaning up the gene pool was to kill fetuses in the womb, before they could be born. At the time when the Eyes had rst interviewed Sanger, Talbott had believed she was brilliant. The woman had even come up with the new key words to be introduced into society in order to make the ghastly crime all the more defensible. Tell the women that the fetuses are just cells that make up part of their own body, she had advised. Its no different than a cyst you want to have removed. But make sure you get the point across that it is a womans choice. Rather, say that it is a womans right to have control over her own body. Most of these ingrates are dirt poor, and are a drag on society. They live in rat-infested ghettos. Their children are criminals. Its what makes these babies unwanted pregnancies. We are doing them a favor by eliminating the little beasties. You give me the money, and Ill set up the clinics. Well need annual grants to make it all happen. If it is cost prohibitive, they wont come. Talbott signed a check from the Talbott Foundation on that very day, and the non-forprot charity, Plan to be a Parent was born. Consequently, the Illuminati was able to close the deal concerning the New Order. The annual grant to Plan to be a Parent provided more than enough blood to work the deep magic that was required. At the time, he failed to realize that he was funding the same dark deities that had compelled the ancient Aztec and Chaldean tribes to slaughter their own children, to obtain favor with the gods.

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With Plan to be a Parents success, he then used his deep pockets to fund other feminist causes. The Brothers had all agreed with each other: the minds of youth would only remain accessible if both mother and father were kept too busy to properly parent their children. It was a job better suited to state-run public schools, anyway. He was mourning again. How many innocent lives had he murdered? How many little ones who actually made it into the world would only know a life of slavery because of his contributions to the Great Plan. And for what? To be lying here on this bed with each strained inhalation, a breath of regret? How much death had he funded in his fty years in the Craft? He shuddered in depression. God have mercy on his soul. A feeling of warm benevolence seemed to descend upon him then, easing his respiration and clearing his mind. Was he going to be self-centered right down to his very last breath? Was he going to permit this self-pity to eat him alive? The thought suddenly came to him that there were others in the world that he cared about more than himself. Tearfully, he said a prayer for his own two children, and any grandchildren he might have. Maybe when this was all over, he would reach out to them again. He would tell them he was sorry. His eyes closed, and the gentle rhythms of slumber began to work their way through his tired, old bones. In that brief moment before he fell asleep, he saw a picture in his mind of a tall, young man, walking into the distance, holding the hand of a beautiful woman. They moved through a brilliant green eld, dotted red with owers, holding the hands of two small boys, who were leaping over the tall plants in an effort to keep up. The young man looked back, straining his eyes, and seeing him lying there, smiled warmly. It was Alexander. George Talbott muttered sleepily, Im so sorry Alexander. Ill say a prayer for you and your future little ones too. ***** Have you gured out where he keeps going at night? inquired one agent of a second. It doesnt look good, him giving us the slip so often. Militello has become a real asshole ever since The Duke left. He gave me hell today, just before he went over there to prowl around to do Lord knows what. Next time you see the grouchy bastard, tell him were narrowing-in on a neighborhood on the other side of town. When AP3 tears out of his driveway, we wont follow him. Well just try to beat him to the area around the restaurant district. From there, maybe well spot him. Grimsby says his visits dont correspond with any action from

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Washington, so maybe hes got a girl squirreled away or something. Hes home now, so we can relax for a bit, he said, putting his feet on the table. Can you believe hes in the bathroom again? I aint seen nobody spend as much time in the crapper as that dude does. We really should put a bug in there. We arent pervs, man. If theres one place you and I will never bug, its some poor guys bathroom, he uttered, as the sound of a car door slammed from the driveway at the front of the house. Burt must be back with the chow! What the hell? exclaimed the rst agent, squinting out a back window into the dusky twilight. Hey! Youre going to want to see this! he exclaimed, just as the third agent emerged into the room after his supper run. Dropping the food-lled paper bags on the makeshift table, the third agent took up the binoculars, zooming-in across the eld as best as he could in the dimming light. Do you think hes burning evidence? Their subject had arranged something on the ground, and had been pouring gasoline lots of it and was about to strike a match. Hell be lucky to keep his eyebrows the rate hes going. The two men watched the bright combustion, and could pick up the re-lighters determined look of hostility. As the ames began to subside, one of them said, AP3 looks seriously pissed. Is it just me or is he looking right in our direction? Hes not just looking, replied another. Hes giving us the nger. Kind of strange for a someone whos supposed to be a pastor wouldnt you say? ***** Alex entered the house and washed his hands in an attempt to remove the smell of gasoline. Moments earlier, he had been in the steamed up bathroom, ready to violate some slinky-looking babes with his eyes. But just as he was about to open the magazines plastic wrapper, he thought he discerned an audible voice from the pit of his stomach, speaking. It said just one word: WHY? He answered the voice with his own thoughts. Why not? The world is lled with guys like me who enjoy the beauty of well-sculpted esh. Maybe they dont have a noisy conscience like mine to constantly hassle them, but really, this is no big deal! The voice spoke again. This time, two words: IT IS.

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If this is such a big efng deal, why is no one upset by it. Good grief, the internet is full of it. I know guys that have bigger collections than I ever had, and for them, its just a part of life. Besides, this is a helluva lot better than hitting the bar circuit and nailing random chicks. At least my way of doing things, nobody gets hurt. Still again, the voice spoke: YOU DONT SEE THE HURT. The words reverberated through his mind. The plight of the voice brought Alex to a point of extreme frustration. The hunger in the pit of his stomach begged him to ignore the words. I deserve a little moment of comfort after all Ive been through in the past few weeks, dammit! Listen God! If you care about me at all, kill me now or give me a way out. I am so damned sick and tired. The internal dialogue was then replaced by a hazy image forming in the back of his brain. Sitting at the end of a dock in the brilliant summer sun were two little boys, shing poles in hand, and feet dangling in the water. Their wispy blond locks blew in the gentle breeze, and their chipmunk like giggling carried on the wind. WHAT OF THESE? the voice asked. WILL THEY DO AS THEIR FATHER DID? And then it was silent. At that moment what seemed like a veil over his mind lifted. What was he doing? This was not the time to become distracted by his old ways. There were too many people counting on him. How would he ever explain such a failure to Nicodemus or Monk? To Meghan? A violent rage suddenly began to boil up on the inside of him. First it was the college girls, now it was this? What were the chances of rst nding a risqu yer in his mailbox, and then, two unopened magazines on his lawn? Someone was playing to his weakness. Someone was working overtime to entrap him. It had to be the spooks. They had seen the collection he kept on his computer before it was erased, now they were trying to draw him back in. He would show them. Throwing the explicit items into a paper bag, he stormed outside, grabbed a gas can from the garage to douse the smut, and torched it into a blaze of glory. The stupid spooks could think what they wanted. After washing and drying his hands thoroughly, he raised them to his nose and caught a whiff of gasoline. Count it as a battle scar. Now feeling the full impact of his hunger, Alex opened the fridge door, considering his options. Unimpressed by what was on hand, he opened a cupboard, where his eyes wandered to an opened bag of cookies and a half-eaten bar of milk chocolate. Would those satisfy? Or was it a drink he really wanted? Maybe he should head over to Meghans and have a drink.

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As the impulses ashed into his mind, a wave of anxiety triggered bursts of electricity, which leapt from nerves to muscle, causing constriction. Uncontrollably shaking, Alex walked to the bedroom and fell to the oor on his knees, arms outstretched across the unmade bed. The feeling of frayed nerves was not new to him, but he had never been jolted like this; so completely. With his body convulsing involuntarily, he knew he was all done; nished with it all. There was no more ght in him. The pretending was over. From this point forward, he would either be a man of honor, or a pervert; someone with the capacity to be a husband and a father, or a sex addict; the Great Ones accomplice, or an atheist. He couldnt be two people any longer. It was a fraudulence that pitted him against the Laws of Nature. Worn out, he was almost convinced that it was all coming to a conclusion. Suddenly, a convulsion heaved up from the depths of his core that was so violent, he was certain his raw guts would be spewed in blood across the sheets of his bed. A stied scream emerged from his throat, and Alex collapsed, unmoving. To be dead would be such a relief. ***** Youll want to see this, Monk, said one bald man wearing a brown monks cloak to the other. Rolling away from the desk where he had been studying the Ancient Words, the leader joined the other man, squinting into the array of video monitors Nicodemus had mounted on the wall. He scanned each of them quickly, and settled his gaze on the image of the unmoving body on its knees, sprawled across a bed. So, its nally happened, Monk mused quietly. He was a strong one. He certainly was.

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 here were you yesterday? asked Kevin Militello contemptuously. Now youre going to have to pack two days work into one. Grimsby was unfazed by the early morning assault. The last six months of working with The Duke had created some pretty thick skin. Ill do my best to get it all done. I have an appointment with an Internet Service Provider, and after that Ill be doing interviews in Camden Heights. We lost some transmitting devices over there yesterday. Give me your list. Ill do what I can. Militellos hawkish face darkened. Since when do you make your own schedule? I think The Duke has you on too long of a leash. Does he have any idea what you do in your free time? What I do in my free time is nobodys damned business! Jacks eyes ared. I make it my business when you take free time during company time, said the senior agent. Im not certain The Duke would appreciate how you use company time. I called in sick yesterday, so back off. Now wheres that list of things you need done? Grimsbys cool demeanor failed to betray his growing alarm. If Militello knew he had met with Senator Stanbridge or Zeke Marlow about whistleblowing on the Agency, things could become dangerous. Forget about the list, said Militello with a wave of his hand, his tone suddenly improving. I was being too harsh on you, Grimsby. I guess having all of The Dukes responsibilities on my shoulders these past few days has begun wearing on me. No sense taking it out on a good agent. Forget about it, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Its a high stress job. Were all bound to blow from time-to-time. So youre nally going to get AP3s internet records, are you? We should be able to get some mileage out of those. Grimsby nodded, wondering when the Agency had become a community of blackmailers. With any luck he would have audio proof of The Dukes coercion of American Congressmen by the end of a day. Maybe that would put an end to the corruption. His train of thought was interrupted as he remembered that les from AP3s laptop were still in the process of decryption. He needed to know what those les contained before anyone else got their hands on them. Rising from his ofce desk, he slid past the

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badgering second-in-command. Have a good one Kevin. Ive got to get this day started. He rounded a corner and rode the elevator up two stories to the tech department. It took ten minutes of winding around humming servers and computer workstations before he found the man he wanted. How is the decryption going? he asked eagerly. Its unwinding more quickly than I rst thought, observed the tech. Were almost two days in and its nearly two-thirds done. Id say by this time on Thursday it should be ready. Grimsby looked the computer geek squarely in the eyes. When its nished, I need you to get this directly to me. No copies. No access on the mainframe. Understand? Yes sir. Ill make sure that I pull the decoded le from the mainframe, keeping a backup on a regional machine. Youll have a thumb-drive on your desk as soon as its done. It was not the rst time the tech had complied with an order from detectives involved in a pissing-contest. He made it a policy to assist to the rst superior who asked. In this case, Grimsby was second. ***** Brother William was at his desk at the same early hour every morning, regardless of the activities taking place the night before. While some of the Brothers frequently used alcohol to get in the spirit of things, he could nurse a glass for an entire evening. In many ways, he was the spinal column of the Brotherhood in America, and in that capacity, there was always lots of work to be done. The jury was still out on The Duke. His brother, Philip, preferred a man who could independently dominate and create fear. He, on the other hand, would sooner have someone who was pliable and easily manipulated to be an obedient frontman to accomplish the business at hand. A frontman would allow William to safely remain in the background as the puppet master, who made the world spin by pulling all the strings. He looked up as a sallow, hollow-faced man knocked on his door, entering the ofce. Maxwell, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure? he sighed. Philip is still sleeping off last nights celebration, and I need to get a nal word on the delivery of the girls in House C.

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Very well. Tell me what you have in mind. William didnt care that Philip was a drinker. Hell, hed probably be a drinker too if he had the messy task of being the knee breaker of the operation. House C contains the girls most suited for two needs that have come up. Our D.C. weapons lobbyist, Alexander Putnam II, needs ve girls for the Arabs by tomorrow noon. I still have to get them waxed-down and outtted the way the Prince and his family like. At the same time, weve been promising one of our entertainment companies in L.A. Hexxxagram Studios new talent for some time now. Ive three girls we snagged off the streets in that same house who have been cleaned up, and are ready to go. Theyll need a trip to the surgeon, but letting the studio know that they are on the way will relieve some pressure on that front. I dont see any problem, said William, ready for this little weasel to hit the road. He loathed dealing in the trivial details of Philips work. Maa tasks were insignicant and well beneath him, and he resented having direct contact with scum like Maxwell. Were going to need to make room for the incoming crop, and we dont like crosspollinating the new girls with the stragglers. Which leaves me with the problem of what to do with the rest. Some of them are real beauties, but they dont seem primed for the wild life. One of the security guards over there says he thought he saw them praying together, if you can imagine that. Praying eh? How many of them are there? William asked, an idea forming in his mind. Just ve. You want me to dump them? No, no. Dont waste them. I think we can use ve girls of the type you are describing this Friday. Will you be able to get some groomers in there before then? Yeah, nodded Maxwell, a wicked grin coming to his face. Ill get my girl in there to primp and prod no later than tomorrow. By Friday they will be stunners. I guess that concludes our business here, William shut down the conversation. He knew he would have to reclaim his ofce by spraying deodorizer once the man and his smoke permeated clothing walked out the door. Just one more thing, said the subordinate slyly. Ive collected all the milk cartons from this group. Do you want me to have them onsite for Friday? I remember Philip telling me that the Brothers couldnt stop talking about it the last time we pulled that one off. Sounds perfect. It will be a real morale booster for the lads. Thank you for being so thorough, Maxwell. William held open the glass door as the early morning guest gathered his coat to leave. What can I say. I enjoy my job.

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***** It was a quiet morning in the safe house, as Felicity and the rest of the calm ve cleaned up from the morning meal. Few words had been exchanged between any of the thirteen girls during breakfast. Each were lost in their own thoughts, wondering what the new day would bring, and where it would take them. They were washing dishes when a guard entered, and indicated that the wild eight should pack what they needed because they would be clearing out within the hour. Though their relationships had been formed through shock and trauma, the past few months had created meaningful bonds among all in the safe house. The calm ve and the wild eight spent the next ten minutes, tearfully clinging to one another, sharing goodbyes. Marissa held tightly onto Felicity, sobbing against her neck while trying to speak. You know, she nally whispered, we may have been two groups, but there was only one leader. You held us all together. You always made it possible for us all to get along. Thank you. Felicity clung tighter, attempting to show her genuine love for this wayward soul. Ill be thinking of you, where ever you are. I will always love you and the others. You must begin to trust that there is a great Being that loves you even more than I do. Yeah, yeah! shrugged Marissa, tears squirting from her eyes. You always were the good one. What you did for those other girls... like little Elsie; I noticed that. Im going to do the same thing for the two who are leaving here with me. I have a feeling that everything is going to work out for you Felicity-girl! Everything is going to work out just ne. I hope so. Take care of yourself girl, and if you ever break free, please remember us. Send help! I promise I will, said the woman, who had once been a child of the streets. And Marissa remained true to her word. For the next two years, as she broke into the porn industry with much fanfare under the stage name Mari Sinplixity she worked tirelessly behind the scenes to track down Felicitys family. When she nally located them, she was heartbroken by the news she heard. *****

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Waiting until the last minute, Alex walked into the church ofces; his stomach in knots. Today, the crap would hit the fan. Today, he would likely be out of a job. He wasnt by nature a procrastinator, but he desperately wanted to postpone the events that would undoubtedly take place today. No sooner had he closed the door to his ofce, when there came a rapid knocking. Come in, he said dismally, plopping down into his chair. It was Randall. Hey buddy! Kind of a busy day in here with the twitching man yesterday, huh? You gotta minute? he pulled up a chair. There are some important things we have to discuss. Such as... Alex shed. Maybe Patricia was a sophisticated schemer, capable of keeping her big yap shut. He doubted it. Such as your blowing me off yesterday. In church circles, we call that insubordination. The church can only afford to have one leader. If were going to keep the ow around here, you really need to do what I tell you. Im sorry about that, apologized the junior pastor with sincerity. Its just that my appointment yesterday was helping me understand some things that I really needed to know. Yesterday was the only time we could meet, and I only found out about it moments before he arrived. Otherwise I would have given you a heads up. Randall was unimpressed. He had his mind set in one direction, and he didnt want the momentum to be interrupted. Then, there is the matter of Meg... Alex, the secretary poked her head in the door. There is a Monseigneur Capice, who says he must meet with you now. He says that it is quite urgent. You better send him in, said Alex, rising to his feet, a deadly serious look on his face, even though he was grinning inwardly. A timely reprieve! His execution had been stayed. Monk, his brown robes owing, blustered into the room, acting very perturbed in a priestly kind of way. Randall stared, eyes wide with disbelief, unable to decide if he should stay or go. Well? declared Monk, staring authoritatively in Randalls direction. You will have to forgive us kind sir. But this is a discussion that Alexander and I will need to have privately.

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When Randall failed to move quickly enough, Monk stepped toward him, as though he would physically toss the pastors small body from the room. At the movement the senior pastor shot up and bolted out the door, slamming it behind him. Then, holding a nger to his mouth, indicating for Alex to remain silent, he removed a device from among the robes, much like the one Anthony Coleman had used. Running the instrument over the walls, ceiling, and ofce furniture, revealed two audio transmitters, which he promptly dropped into the half cup of coffee Randall had left behind during his sudden exit. Alex wondered if this was the right time to tell Monk about the secret audio recordings on his laptop, and that Anthony Coleman had indicated that the computer had been hacked by the Agency. It didnt take him long to determine that it wasnt. There was already enough drama swirling around. Why make it worse? There! Monk announced smiling. The room is now clean. How are you this morning, Alexander? How did you sleep last night? The young pastor, momentarily lost in his own thoughts, came back to reality with a hearty chuckle. How nice of you to join me, Monseigneur Capice. Your timing could not have been better. For the record, I fell asleep on my knees, so Im a little stiff in the legs this morning. There seem to be some breakthroughs beginning to occur, which have me encouraged. But hey, he said, holding his arms out wide. Am I ever glad to see you! I though you might be, chuckled Monk. I came today because our time is getting ever shorter. When we rst put our plan into place, we believed it would take several months to accomplish. Nothing on this mission has so far gone according to plan. It seems as though everything is in some kind of warp-drive. This leaves us with mere days. Do you understand? Alex nodded, registering the concern on the older mans face. What do you mean, mission? I always thought you were just a monk. Are you all special agents in disguise or something? It would make sense, considering the condent agility of the men in brown, and their access to so much techno-wizardry. And they had drugged him, after all. No, were not special agents. We are what we appear to be: monks. Our order was established with the intent of subverting the evil plans of The Illuminati to enslave the world. What we do, is inltrate, with the aim to extricate. What does that mean? Alex was intrigued. Maybe he would become a monk. The cleric took a seat, and leaned toward the pastor on the other side of the desk. The world is a hostile place for those who love freedom. Anyone who studies history knows this to be true. However, there are some people who are caught up in this evil web who

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are supposed to be on the good side. Some are enslavers like Nicodemus. Others are slaves like you. My job is to inltrate your worlds, so that I may extricate you; that you may be reborn into the Ancient Ways, making you ghters in the Great Ones cause. But I already was a ghter in Gods cause. Im a pastor for crying out loud, Alex weakly justied. Monk chuckled as he shook his head. No Alexander. You are a slave. The dark secret that modern Christendom has been hiding is that churches like this one have become willing instruments of illumination. The Illumined Ones now use clueless Christian churches as a method of making slaves out of otherwise free populations. ***** The sun shining in the crisp autumn air failed to enliven George Talbotts tired body. Every muscle ached as he walked to the bathroom. As he studied himself in the mirror, he was overcome by a wave of panic. The time was too short! I am nothing more than a walking dead man, he muttered, readying his shaving cream. Positive thoughts. He must continue to think positive thoughts; of what could be done in the day, rather than what would not get done. His body. His cursed body. Why did a perfectly good mind have to be weighed down by this rotting esh clinging to his brittle bones? He hated it. He hated it all! Monk had once made him a promise during his rebirthing experience at the monastery, telling him not to be discouraged by his deteriorating health. He taught him that once upon a time, humankind was marked by the Great Ones completion. Like a circle, humanity lacked nothing for all of eternity. But when people desired illumination over completion, the circle was shattered. Everything that was eternally complete about the human race suddenly became temporary. His failing body, Monk explained, was one of these things. Have no fear, Monk had said, for you are now reborn into the Ancient Ways. By your faith in the complete work of the Messiah, you have returned to choose completion over illumination. You no longer need to know, because now you are. You are a new person all over again, and that will include a new body, once this ratty old one falls away. Talbott smiled. Monk always did have a way with words. But as convincing as the brown cloaked cleric might be, he had failed initially to persuade Talbott by his speech. It was only afterward, when he discovered that Monk had been reciting from the Ancient Words, that he had chosen to believe.

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He had become a changed man. He saw it in the ways that he thought and behaved. Yet why did his condence now seem so shaky? What was this nagging voice calling from his insides, telling him to hurry, before it was too late? Was it the Great One? Or was it the Light Bearer, coming to enlighten his soul, in one nal attempt to alter his destiny forever.

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Chapter 31
here is a spiritual shift taking place throughout the globe. It is so subtle, that few will realize it is actually occurring, but those who are sensitive will discern it, explained Monk behind the closed door of the church ofce. Tell me more about this, implored Alex, as he began typing to record of the conversation. Because to me, everything is cruising along like it always has been. It only seems that way, because that is what the Illumined Ones would like you to think, claried the cleric. They are masters of illusion; at mind control; at making vast populations believe what they want them to believe. Let me give you an example: In the history of the world, has any great society ever been truly secular? Has any culture ever been so devoid of spirituality that the intellect of humankind was made the standard by which all things were judged? The answer is no. The ancient Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Jews, the Chinese, and the Europeans were each highly spiritual peoples. So an able student of history must ask the question, why do we now cherish secular humanism which is devoid of spirituality? Why have we become convinced that the material world is more real than the spiritual? The world did not arrive at these modern conclusions by accident. Behind the scenes, wealthy men who dabbled in occult mysteries have funded and encouraged specic strains of thought, to brainwash generations of people, so that they will readily integrate into the coming Age of Aquarius. Darwin, Jung, Freud, and Kinsey among several others, paved the way to de-spiritualize the west in order to prepare it to be re-spiritualized by a mandated new religion of the New World Order. Materialism, by its very nature, automatically creates a void in humankind. The architects of the coming New Age understood this very well. Once the spirituality of the Christian west has been neutered by materialism, its populations will be more than ready to receive a new doctrine, for they will be desperate to ll the void. Alex looked up from his computer, pausing from his typing, ready to ask another question. So what is this new doctrine going to be? I am going to let Nicodemus tell you the details of that. My purpose today, is to demonstrate to you that this place you call a church is actually a fraud. It, and many churches like it, are the reason why the entire world is at the precipice of being enslaved.

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Alex felt stung by the clerics indictment. Thats a pretty strong accusation, Monk! You know, the Good Book tells us not to judge others. The Ancient Words tell us not to become proud and haughty, said Monk with patience. We are not to elevate ourselves above others, because this makes us like the Illumined Ones. The Ancient Words do tell us to judge what is in the church. People are being brainwashed into believing materialist theories, because religious organizations like this one, no longer teach the Ancient Ways. Understand this Alex! Every free society, only remains free because they have been established on the transparency of written words. Words can be studied and taught. Words can dene and defend. Words can motivate and inspire. Words can shape and mold an entire culture. But when words gather dust and are forgotten, people become open to manipulation and mind control, and humankind becomes vulnerable to cults of personality. Consider the ideas of political correctness, moral relativism, and multiculturalism. Do any of these theories nd their basis in the Ancient Ways? Even to a lesser standard, do these concepts even remotely reect the ideas expressed in the American Constitution? They dont! Monk raised his voice. They dont because they are merely theories invented by enlightened men who have passed them along as truth. A society that has forgotten the value of words has been deceived. The Ancient Ways never identied a church as a building or a business. The Great One dened a church as a group of people, who were gathered to do the work of the Messiah, through worship and service to others. But this is not true of the church today, is it? Around three hundred years after the Messiah was executed and regenerated, the Roman Emperor Constantine wondered how he could get a leg up on the competition. He saw that Christianity was spreading like wildre, even in the midst of unimaginable persecution. Think of it! They were using burning Christians as street lamps, having them ripped apart by lions, and other horric things. Yet in the midst of this, the gathering of the faithful continued to expand throughout the land. There was a deeply mystical energy about it; an energy Constantine wanted to harness. So the Emperor made Christianity the law of the land, doling out money to build great buildings in which people could meet. He inuenced the church to set up a political structure, similar to that of Rome, with its own Emperor and Senators. Next thing you know, the the Great Ones church was being governed by Illumined Ones: popes and bishops who knew better than the great unwashed masses.

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These political church leaders hid the Ancient Words from the people, desiring to be the only ones who were t to dispense its truth. Why? Because they had eaten from the poison apple, and learned the thrill of what it was to be illumined. Becoming an Illumined One brings wealth, power, and control. And the church which once gathered in each others homes to worship God, eat a meal, and provide assistance for the weakest among them became a builder of kingdoms. Go on, urged Alex, slowing his typing, trying to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. Monk continued. The natural outcome of illumined leadership is always feudalism; where there is royalty, and there are peasants. The shrinking middle class in the United States demonstrates that this is taking place today. In like manner, the Vatican, or any Protestant church denomination also proves the same point. When a person goes to church today, they come with reverence for the priest or pastor, in expectation that the great Enlightened One will teach them of the mysteries. They then pay a tax into the offering plate, in order to keep the kingdom running. Because the Illumined Ones could not compete with the original persecuted church, they co-opted it to be their own, changing the very nature of its essence. They accomplished this by infecting it with conict of interest. What do you mean by that? Alex wondered, guessing that the response would be more negativity. The man in brown could be such a downer. Monk took the leather bound book from the inside of his brown cloak, and ipped through the pages. Listen to what the Messiah says:
"Stop storing up treasures for yourselves on earth, where moths and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal. Instead, store up treasures for yourselves in heaven, where moths and rust don't destroy and thieves don't break in and steal. Your heart will be where your treasure is. "The eye is the lamp of the body. So if your eye is unclouded, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is evil, your whole body will be full of darkness. If the light in you is darkness, how dark it will be! "No one can serve two masters. He will hate the rst master and love the second, or he will be devoted to the rst and despise the second. You cannot serve God and wealth.

I dont think all of todays churches serve wealth, Alex interjected irritably. I think were all in it to do good. How about this church? Monk inquired. Do you think that it is clouded by a conict of interest? I dont think so, said the pastor. I think that its intentions are noble and true. Why dont we test your theory then, shall we?

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Alex shrugged his shoulders, ready for the challenge. Invite your senior pastor to join us, Monk directed, and we will see how well your claim holds up. Alex hesitated, then rose to his feet and went to the door. What the hell, it couldnt put him in more hot water than he was already in. At his call, Randall came down the hallway and joined them, sitting in a third chair in the small ofce. This is Monseigneur Capice, Alex re-introduced the monk to Randall using the fake name given by the cleric, uncertain as to where this was going next. How do you do? the pastor uncomfortably extended his hand. As Monk shook, he said, I am a member of a humble group who has taken a vow to help the less fortunate around us. There are many who are in bondage in this life, and they simply require a helping hand. Good, good! praised the senior pastor, who squirmed in his seat, while shooting a dirty look in the direction of Alex. We try to accomplish the same thing in this church. Its nice to meet someone who is also committed to making a difference. Our ministry requires a large amount of resources to operate, Monk spoke solemnly. We are always taking leaps of faith to continue our ministry. Oh, I see, Randall recoiled nervously, before deciding to head the threat off at the pass. Were in the same boat. Our new parking lot project has really put us behind the eight ball. Times are tough everywhere you go. Real tough. God bless you for the good work you are doing sir. But our church just does not have the funds to contribute right now. Maybe at a later date? We do a lot of counseling in our ministry, Monk continued, ignoring the pastors remarks. Sometimes it can get overwhelming. You know, the harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Yeah, I hear you there. We dont actually do counseling in this church, but I could point you to some excellent Christian counselors, Randall offered. He glared at Alex one last time then said, You know, Mr. Capice is it? I have a very busy day ahead of me, and I must get on with it. It was very nice meeting you, he extended his hand again, ready for a quick shake and a speedy exit. But you havent yet heard why I am here, commented Monk to the clergyman who was now standing at the door. Our counseling ministry has been so successful, that several wealthy donors have blessed us beyond measure. Theres no way that well use all of

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those funds in a the next few years, so we thought we might look into helping out other churches in the area. Ohhh! Randall was visibly relieved, and returned to his chair, smiling warmly. Im sorry. I totally misread you there. Why dont you come down to my ofce and we can discuss this further. Ill have the secretary x us some cups of coffee. Why dont we just discuss it right here? offered Monk. Randall glanced at Alex, disturbed enough by the presence of the junior pastor that he counter-offered: Tell you what. You two gentlemen nish your discussion, then I would love to take you out for lunch Mr. Capice. My treat. How does that sound? Monk nodded, Sounds perfect! Ill let you know when I am ready. The senior pastor reached for Monks hand again, and shook it vigorously, before leaving. Well that was interesting, commented Alex, as he shut the door. No different than the punks preaching on TV trying to steal money from old ladies. People with a heart after illumination are easy to identify: they are always marked by a conict-of-interest. Consider these Ancient Words, said Monk, nding his reference in the worn, leather-bound book.
A godly life brings huge prots to people who are content with what they have. We didn't bring anything into the world, and we can't take anything out of it. As long as we have food and clothes, we should be satised. But people who want to get rich keep falling into temptation. They are trapped by many stupid and harmful desires which drown them in destruction and ruin. Certainly, the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. Some people who have set their hearts on getting rich have wandered away from the Christian faith and have caused themselves a lot of grief. But you, man of God, must avoid these things. Pursue what God approves of: a godly life, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness. Fight the good ght for the Christian faith. Take hold of everlasting life to which you were called and about which you made a good testimony in front of many witnesses.

Do you know why the love of money is the root of evil? Monk asked. People who have lots money have no need for God, replied Alex smartly. By buying every comfort the world can offer, they remain focused on nite things, rather than the innite. Thats a valid point, nodded the cleric, as long we realize there is nothing wrong with having lots of money. An incredibly wealthy man, who remains willing to anonymously

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give his fortune away at a moments notice in response to the Great Ones direction will remain untouched by evil. But such men are rare. The love of money is the root of evil because it is the food which feeds the insatiable appetite of pride. Boldface this part as you type it, instructed Monk, because it is the key to understanding the Illuminati and all others who strive to be illumined. The spirit of illumination is the spirit of pride. There is a battle raging between good and evil. The Light Bearer, and his evil minions want to exploit and enslave humanity, crowning themselves as kings. Their mission of destruction is accomplished through occult enlightenment principles. The Messiahs church was entrusted to teach the world the concepts of the Ancient Words, ensuring that even in a dangerous and hostile environment humankind would remain free. Proud adulterers like your senior pastor, have made a deal with the devil. He is endorsed as the Enlightened One who leads this church. And he is paid handsomely to keep the congregation happy and contented; just so long as the money keeps rolling in. All the Light Bearer asks, is that he not teach about the Ancient Words that would make the people free. Randall? An adulterer? What are you talking about!? Alex zeroed-in, suspiciously. Monk again ignored the question, ipping to another page in his well-used book. Alexander, you must always remember the foundations the Ancient Ways:
...You must serve each other with humility, because God opposes the arrogant but favors the humble. Be humbled by God's power so that when the right time comes he will honor you. Turn all your anxiety over to God because he cares for you. Keep your mind clear, and be alert. Your opponent the devil is prowling around like a roaring lion as he looks for someone to devour. Be rm in the faith and resist him, knowing that other believers throughout the world are going through the same kind of suffering.

***** The Duke awoke feeling well-rested and was eager to face the day. After eating a large breakfast served on ne china and spotless crystal, he was more convinced than ever that the gods knew what they were doing when they selected him as Agency Director. But he was impatient for the position to ofcially be his. He was impatient for the title. He was impatient to begin wielding power. He was impatient that there were still

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meetings to attend which would lead up to his induction ceremony on Friday. He was impatient with the month it would take to put the old Director out to pasture. Striding briskly in the crisp, fall air along the busy Manhattan thoroughfare, he tried to erase yesterdays missteps from his mind. Last evenings soire held in his honor was marred only by the revelation that Brother Philip held a copy of the DVD containing the visual evidence of his humiliation. The military muscle-heads who had refused to give him any respect had also been an irritant, but he would deal with them later. Otherwise, it was a very dignied occasion, attended by many well-connected, important people. About halfway through the evening, he had made peace with the fact that the Brothers now owned him. Their unspoken threat of blackmail wasnt all bad. They had simply been trying to protect their investment. Besides, here he was, among fty of the most powerful men in the free world, along with their elegantly dressed wives. And they were here to honor him! To recognize his promotion as the leader of the most powerful spy agency in the world. The Brothers could keep their dirt. He would do as they said. Look what they had done for him so far. Entering a tall, glass building, he took the elevator to the top. Yes, he would never tire of the meetings with the big boys. He would never grow weary of the looks of respect that came across the faces of the receptionists when he told them his name. Mr. Duke! So glad you are here. The Council has just assembled and are ready to see you now, said a meticulously dressed woman, who lead the way to an expansive boardroom. Gentlemen, Mr. Duke, she announced, before quietly pulling the door closed. Please sit down Mr. Duke, offered Brother William in his strong British accent. Glad to have you on board. Around this table are the faces of the men you will be working with, day-in and day-out. The Duke studied the thirteen men around the glass table several were in uniform, but most were well-dressed civilians and it registered that Brother Philip was not among them. All in attendance had been at last nights gala event. After introductions, Brother William continued. Be reminded Mr. Duke, that repeating anything that is discussed at this table is an offense that will lead to your dismissal from the planet. As you can see, each of these men knows how to control his tongue. General Davenport, I will now turn the meeting over to you.

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A tall, intelligent looking man wearing four stars rose to his feet, commanding the oor. The Duke noticed that all eyes in the room observed the man with strict discipline. Taking the cue, the agent did his best to do the same. Mr. Duke. We are here not only to introduce ourselves, but more importantly, to play a role in rearranging your thinking to the ways things get done. For claritys sake, please do not hesitate to ask questions. First, I must inform you that you are a subordinate to every man in this room. While you will be getting the title Agency Director, please be aware that it is no different than the title, President, or Secretary of State. You actually direct nothing. Youre merely a gurehead; someone the general public can look to and trust. The thirteen men you see here, steward the affairs of the world for our sponsors. Therefore, as you move forward into your new position, you must realize that you are no more Director of the Agency, than a clown named Ronald is the director of a fast food chain. Is that understood? The Duke nodded his head obediently, feeling strangely disconnected from himself. Was it the manner in which the general was speaking? Was there something odd about the cadence of his words? The tonal quality of his voice? The way in which he maintained eye contact? As the odd speech continued, The Duke became uninchingly convinced that what the General was saying was right as rain. It was a matter of fact. A reality that could not be contradicted. It was becoming the foundation of his world. Davenport continued: Your paycheck is from the Government of the United States, but you do not serve the American people. You report to us, and take orders from us. It is of utmost importance, however, that the American people feel that you are allied with them. Therefore, you must be an external American patriot, who is internally loyal to the cause of the Brotherhood. Is that understood? Again, The Duke nodded, relishing in how easy this job would actually be. There would be no heavy-lifting, except for the public speaking aspect, which he had always loathed. Fine china, spotless crystal, and respect. He could endure a little public speaking. I am an American newspaper columnist, said the General with military precision. Who do you work for? The United States Government, sir, The Dukes response owed easily, requiring no conscious effort. I am a Brother on the Council of Thirteen, Davenport announced. Who do you work for?

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The Brotherhood, sir. Specically, the Council of Thirteen, sir, said the agent blankly. The General closed his briefcase, stating: Hes all yours gentlemen. I have another appointment to attend to. Brother William, you know how to close him out. But of course, said the grey haired leader, while dismissing the General. We will now continue the program with the Head of Global Unication: Bland Jrgesson... ***** An eerie silence descended upon the Manhattan safe-house after the wild eight were escorted to a waiting limousine by one of the guards. The calm ve did their best to go on with life by working out in the gym and swimming laps, but it was not the same. As lunchtime approached, a guard informed them that movie time had been indenitely suspended; which was a relief to them all. Life was improving, it seemed. Or was it simply the calm before the storm? Elsie, struggling with the sudden changes, was fearful of what lay ahead. She rested her head on Felicitys stomach as the two lay on a bed, staring at the ceiling. I dont feel good on the insides, she said, her voice small and childlike. Something bad is about to happen. I just know it. Felicity stroked her friends face, reassuringly. Whats the worst this life can bring us now? Everything in the world that once brought us security has been stripped away. And that leaves us with only one hope. The Messiah? Exactly. We now have to trust him and his words for guidance. We have to remember that the weaker we become, the stronger his inuence will be through our lives. But I have no control, Elsie whispered tersely. I just wish I had control over my own destiny again. Even when I was on the streets, I could make my own decisions. I cant stand feeling like a hostage in my own skin! If God is so great and loving, why are we in this situation? Why are the bad guys winning? You are so good Felicity. You of all people dont deserve to be in this situation. And still, look at us! Were losing! I am afraid were about to lose it all. It doesnt matter how good we try to be Elsie, Felicity spoke calmly. The world is lled with evil, and it has the power to corrupt us all. God didnt plan it that way. Our desire for power and control made it that way. Its only when we give up being in control that well nd true peace.

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True peace? Even when those bastards are raping us? questioned Elsie, as her body began to shudder. Felicity drew her closer, tightly wrapping her arms around the small frame of her frightened friend. We dont know whats going to happen, but we do know that God does not wish such horror upon our lives. If the worst does happen, however, it is only because humans have welcomed the evil one to make their decisions for them. We must do the opposite of that, permitting God to make our decisions for us. We will simply do what he tells us to do. Then, no matter what happens, we will have inner peace. Peace? Peace?! How can I actually believe the Messiahs message if I feel no peace at all? wondered Elsie bitterly. Felicity sat up, and stared intently into the frightened eyes of her friend. It is a mistake to imagine that we are going to live the good life simply because we believe. In fact, The Messiah says the opposite is true. Look at this, she said, as she wiggled her arm down the heat register, shing out the hidden book given to her by Madame Chantalle, opening it toward the end. Read the Messiahs message, she pointed. Elsie read slowly, fumbling over the larger words.
"Blessed are those who recognize they are spiritually helpless. The kingdom of heaven belongs to them. Blessed are those who mourn. They will be comforted. Blessed are those who are gentle. They will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for God's approval. They will be satised. Blessed are those who show mercy. They will be treated mercifully. Blessed are those whose thoughts are pure. They will see God. Blessed are those who make peace. They will be called God's children. Blessed are those who are persecuted for doing what God approves of. The kingdom of heaven belongs to them. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, lie, and say all kinds of evil things about you because of me. Rejoice and be glad because you have a great reward in heaven! The prophets who lived before you were persecuted in these ways.

What do those words tell you? Felicity asked, smiling warmly. That were blessed? spoke the voice of a helpless little girl. Yes. Were blessed. Now lets go reassure the others.

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Chapter 32 A
gent Jack Grimsby took a deep breath before entering the warehouse building containing the ofces of the internet service provider. An hour earlier, he had stealthily removed a recording device from the Agency storehouse, replaced its batteries, and taped it inconspicuously to his torso. The door jingled as he entered, and he tried to look bored as he was approached by the same pleasant looking receptionist he had seen a few days earlier. Well, Im back, he said, unsmiling. Is Gerard around? Please follow me, she indicated, letting him pass through the counter door to take the long march down the dusty, shelf-lined hallway lled with outdated internet hook-up equipment. Gerard, the man from the Agency is back. Shall I send him in? Please do! Thanks Shelly, said the voice from behind the door. Grimsby could feel his heart beating in his throat. Would the man be able to tell he was wearing a wire? Among all the video monitors and electronic equipment humming in the ofce, was there a scanner that would reveal him as a snitch? He opened the door, trying his best to appear irritated and pressed for time. Sorry I had to run out on you last time, Grimsby said, sitting down. I never get to nish something before I am off, chasing down some other loose end. The man in the horned rimmed glasses stared through the darkness, beyond the video monitor which illuminated his face. A nagging voice on the inside began to tell him something was wrong. What was it? Did The Duke contact you regarding his approval of your fee increases? led Grimsby, according to the script he had prearranged in his mind. The question put Gerard Levac off-balance. No... Dukey didnt phone, he said, puzzled at the offer of a bonus. You told him an extra hundred per name? What was wrong here? He had simply been making small talk with the agent about a payment increase during his last visit. Dukey had promised to pay him to make a tape of Agent Grimsby involved in corruption. He never mentioned more cash for those on the list. Then he smiled. Perhaps Dukey was only torturing him through this pawn. That would be like him.

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Grimsby continued his bluff. He agreed only to an extra fty per name for regulars, but would pay the extra hundred for those who were members of Congress. But he wanted the reports of their internet histories to be delivered weekly rather than monthly. Right now theres all kinds of extra money oating around the Agency. Its all part of the White Houses covert way of releasing new money into the struggling economy. Maybe I should call him to conrm it for myself. Just so there is no misunderstanding, Levac smiled dangerously. He was going to make Dukey squirm on the phone in front of this dupe for his stupid joke. Go ahead, Grimsby offered. Do you need his number? He had been prepared for this. A call to The Duke would only prove to his senior agent that he was now onboard, and was doing his best to make things happen. I already have the number, the computer geek said imperiously, toggling a button which speed-dialed the cell phone. He sighed when the call went to voice-mail. The Dukes been at meetings all week in New York, Grimsby assured. But if you leave him a message, Im certain hell get back to you. Ah, theres no need for that! What is the le that you need? I need complete history records for an Alexander Putnam III, who lives in Camden Heights. Gerard Levac began typing on his keyboard, bringing up the same records he had handed to The Duke three days earlier. As soon as the agent took the records, the deal would be complete, and he would be ten thousand dollars richer. The thought of the sudden payday drowned out the sound of his nagging instincts, which were trying to tell him that something was seriously amiss. ***** The Duke listened intently as each of the Council of Thirteen caught him up to speed. He was feeling as though he was one of them now; in sync with the methods of their madness. They were men of genius and masters of patience. He learned from the Head of Capitalist Expansion how the world was becoming a smaller place with the free movement of information, people, goods and services. The global political empire would only come to fruition, once a global system of commerce had been established. As Director of the Agency, one of his primary objectives would be to break down obstacles to free trade. Uncooperative politicians must be

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compromised, and the mainstream media must always be fed press releases indicating the benets of unhindered trade. The Head of Information Management explained how each of the predominant media outlets in the west were owned by shareholders who were friendly to the Brotherhood. These amicable relationships were occasionally scarred by rogue reporters who sometimes broke damaging stories. The Agency needed to send out daily press releases, monitor all broadcasts, and provide a weekly update to the Brotherhood, in order that pressure could be exerted to keep broadcasters and reporters in line. An Agency department in charge of media regulation was responsible for sending daily memos to broadcasters indicating which stories were appropriate or inappropriate; under the guise of national security. This department also monitored and restricted access to footage that could iname the population, such as the video of planes smashing into the World Trade Center. A separate Agency department, sent lists of possible story ideas and cultural themes to the producers of the big networks. Whether the production staff used them or not, was up to them. But the Brothers had noticed an overwhelming trend working in their favor: In a glut of information and shrinking revenues, overwhelmed writers and producers eventually became lazy, relying more and more on the material that was fed to them. Still another department existed to implant reporters in certain hotspots of the world. In exchange for the Agencys provision of safe-passage and ongoing protection, the reporters would often run with the talking points given to them by the Agency, as background information to accompany their heart-stopping video footage. Lastly, there was a department responsible for video production, itself. Operating through various front companies, it would record video footage of friendly sources like the Council on Foreign Relations to other such think tanks creating video bytes. The segments could then be purchased from the front company, along with a script of the questions. Through a simple cut and paste process, it could be made to appear that broadcast news anchors were actually questioning these sources live, with their own original questions. No one watching the evening news was ever the wiser. The Head of Cultural Development explained that globalism would only succeed if traditional homogeneous cultural boundaries could be destroyed. He explained the connection between political correctness and cultural integration, including the keywords developed by Agency mind-control experts which required persistent exposure. With enough patience, time-honored American culture would eventually be destroyed, making it pliable to accommodate the global agenda. The Duke also learned that the west needed to be constantly reminded that a modern culture of death was preferred over a Christian culture of life. Students in schools needed to be taught about the joys of casual sex from an early age, along with information about birth control and free access to abortion clinics. Mercy killing was a

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viable way to limit the budgetary drain of medical care, and needed to be promoted. Doctors required constant reminders that giving the proper medication to aging terminal patients would relieve the strain on their overburdened hospitals. Feminism must be gloried; the agenda to take women out of the home, foisting them into the workplace, championed. In this vein, it was explained that ballsy, butch women should get plenty of publicity, while any woman who was both competent and physically attractive, was to receive no attention, unless portrayed as a slut. Homosexuality must be ruthlessly promoted. It destroyed the cultural norms of the traditional family, while assisting in population control. However, only gay men who were fems were to receive publicity and airtime. The general population was less threatened by their goodnatured, quirky mannerisms. The display of dominant butches was restricted. If they happened to slip into a news piece about a gay parade so be it. But otherwise, they must be hidden from view. Unless of course and the Head of Cultural Development laughed heartily they were leaders in the Catholic Church. Anything that could make Jesus look like a fag was a good thing, he winked. The Duke learned that Agency front companies supplied servers to create vast arrays of online pornography. He was told that while Los Angeles porn studios were given the credit for the development of online video streaming, it was only made possible by Agency technologists. The majority of the porn on the internet was free because it was subsidized as a highly effective method for debasing the traditional family and assisted in population control. That the expended semen of millions of porn fans was ceremonially dedicated by the Brotherhood to the owl goddess Lilith as an appeasement offering was omitted. The Duke could learn about those occult intricacies at a later date. What stuck out foremost in the agents mind, however, was the concept of optics. He was told that one must master the art of optics, before he could participate in deeper magic, for all other magic was generated by optics. It was explained that a magician or an illusionist would only remain relevant, if the methods used to perform his trickery remained a secret. In like manner, if any of the inner workings of the Illuminati network were revealed, the game would be over. To exemplify this point, the Head of Military Coordination explained that the Middle East would be undergoing some monumental changes in the coming years. There would be revolts and rebellions, in the name of overthrowing entrenched dictators, to establish democracies. The people of the world would cheer. But it was all a matter of optics. The truth of the matter was that certain dictators in the Middle East had no interest in pursuing hostilities against Israel. These dictators had to be unseated, in order to make room for Muslim extremists, who would stir up a vicious war against the Jews.

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Magic, it was explained, was not the securing of lucrative oil deals from the Arabs by trafcking American women to the sheiks. True magic was the obtaining of lucrative deals by having video evidence of Arab leaders molesting American women; and photographs of the bodies once they were disposed of. Magic, was established through optics. The world would be remade through magic, they said. Traditional systems had to be destroyed before new ones could be put into place. A global kingdom would be built and a New World Order would be established. It would be the dawning of a magically enlightened society; the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. The educational meeting went on throughout the morning, until each of the Council of Thirteen had spoken. The Duke was not the least bit fatigued. He was energized and ready to go. There was a world to conquer. He was going to play a key role in its destruction, all while presenting himself as the valiant voice of cautious optimism to the gullible American people. ***** As the morning wiled away, Alex wondered if Monk would actually follow through with his lunch appointment with his senior pastor Randall. He posed the question to the cleric. Everyone deserves a chance to change their ways and clear their conscience, explained the man in the brown cloak. Ofcially, we are both leaders in service of the Great One. Because of this, we are supposed to be accountable to one another. But this does not mean humankind is obligated to tell their sins to a pastor or a priest! This is illumined hogwash, because it indicates that the priest is the Enlightened One who is from above. Lets look what the Ancient Words state, he offered, as he ried through the pages of his book.
Brothers and sisters, if a person gets trapped by wrongdoing, those of you who are spiritual should help that person turn away from doing wrong. Do it in a gentle way. At the same time watch yourself so that you also are not tempted. Help carry each other's burdens. In this way you will follow Christ's teachings. So if any one of you thinks you're important when you're really not, you're only fooling yourself. Each of you must examine your own actions. Then you can be proud of your own accomplishments without comparing yourself to others. Assume your own responsibility.

So in answer to your question: Yes, I am going to invite him to come clean. What did Randall need to come clean about? Dare he ask? He chose to pursue another line of questioning instead: But doesnt that imply that you think you are better than him?

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It does, admitted Monk, if I go in with both barrels blazing while remaining unwilling to walk him through the process of rebirth. But, as you can see, I am willing. Look at your life. Last month at this time, you were passing yourself off for an enlightened pastor, who was trapped in a secret life of sin. The Great One had important plans for you. He showed you a way out of your prison, and you took it. Your willingness to participate in the Great Ones plan indicated to me that spending time assisting you in your rebirth was a good investment. Had you rejected Nicodemus or myself, we both would have walked away. Would you be where you are today if I was unwilling to invest the time in you? Monk asked. No, acknowledged the pastor. Id still be stuck in a rut. People who are governed by an illumined perspective always want to point out another persons aws, because it serves to puff them up, positioning them as a voice over another persons life. Those who are guided by the Ancient Ways will go below the person who is stumbling, by hold them accountable to the truth. A servant is somebody who is willing to walk with you until you are out of danger. Im simply going to offer Randall what I have offered you: a way out. Are you going to do it now? I mean, its almost lunch time? Alex grinned as he pressed the monk. Hed love to be a y on the senior pastors wall. It would be a jaw clenching extravaganza! Monk accepted the challenge. Alright then! he said standing on his feet. I will go, but only if you promise to petition the Great One to assist Randall out of the trap he is in. Smugness is a quality shared with demons. Fair enough, Alex readily took the scolding. You go, and I will say a prayer for Randall. Monk walked down the hall and knocked on the open door, peering into the expansive room. Oh! Youre ready then! Do you like Mexican, cause I know of a great taco stand, said Randall, gathering his coat. Could I speak privately with you for a moment... here? the cleric invited, as he shut the door. But of course! said the senior pastor. Here pull up this chair! Lets have a talk. Do you know why you do what you do?

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I dont think I understand what youre saying there, Mr. Capice. Could you say it in another way? Randall began ddling with some paper clips on his desk, and rhythmically swung his chair from left to right. I see from your ring nger that you are a married man. Yes? Why do you seek your comfort in the arms of another woman? asked the cleric, condent in his spiritual intuition. Randall became perfectly still, and the jaw clenching began. That jackass down the hallway must have sold him down the river. Did Alex tell you that? Because that kid doesnt know crap. Really? was Monks one word response. He may have all sorts of wild speculations about me and my associate, but I can assure you that it is all false. Who is your associate? Is she a subordinate of yours? Yes, Patricia is my subordinate. But I can assure nothing inappropriate is going on between the two of us. Monk furrowed his brow as he spoke: A President of the United States once said the same thing on national television. Rather than helping his intern to grow as a woman of honor, he used his prestige and power to violate her. Regardless of whether it was consensual, it was essentially rape. Are you violating your subordinate in a similar manner? Randalls face began to turn a deep shade of red, and a blood vessel in his forehead began to pulsate rapidly. Listen buddy, the senior pastor was now growling in a low whisper. I will tell you something, completely off the record, just because I need to get it off my chest. I dont know what Alex told you, but what I am about to share cannot be repeated. Youre a man of the cloth, so I need your word that what I tell you will remain completely condential. It will, conrmed Monk. The woman entrapped me in a moment of weakness at a conference. Now I cant shake her. My balls have been broken ever since that night. I dont run the church any more. She does! And what are you willing to do about it? asked the cleric.

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Nothing! If I do, shell tell my wife and kids. Ill be humiliated in front of the congregation. Theres absolutely nothing I can do! What if I revealed that you have become nothing more than a marionette whose string are being pulled by a demonic entity, through your associate pastor? Would you be willing to confess before your wife and your congregation, if you knew it would not only set you free, but also serve to give your associate an opportunity at freedom? No way! Randall exclaimed. Do you know how hard it would be to nd a decent paying job in this economy? Besides, this is all I am qualied to do. What makes you qualied for this line of work? Monk inquired. I went to college for eight years and spent nearly one hundred grand. Thats what qualies me! And does the Great One believe you are qualied? You mean God? Listen pal, I needed to get this off my chest, and I thank you for that. If Alex knows anything, you tell him to keep his mouth shut. Im going to have to ask you to leave now. I dont feel much like eating. If you want to give us money, just mail a check. Randall got up from behind his desk, and held the door open, urging the man in the brown robe out of his ofce. ***** Hey Dukey, its your old friend Gerard Levac down at DC Commtech. What do you want? growled The Duke, speaking into his cell phone between mouthfuls of baby spinach and goat cheese. These New York City morons ate stupid food, but he enjoyed the sophistication he felt when consuming it. Your pal Grimsby came in. I have the tape of him illegally obtaining internet records. Do you want me to email it to you, or should I just hold onto it? He didnt try to serve you with a warrant? the agent probed. Didnt even bat an eye this time. He was all business. Came in, got the records, and went out. When should I expect your donation? Youll get it when I am good and ready. Ive never stiffed you before, grumbled The Duke. Who was this common man to be calling him; interrupting his fancy lunch?

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Levac continued: Say, whats with the big joke about paying me more money for the names on the list? Your boy said you would ante up fty more for the regulars, and one hundred more for the Congressmen. Are you just being an asshole? He said what?! What would make Grimsby say such a thing? The Duke jumped to one possible conclusion that he found deeply disturbing. How did you respond when he told you that? I said I would have to call you to conrm it. He told me to go ahead, so I did, and got your voicemail, explained Levac. Destroy all the records of our association now! Dont send me anything until I contact you again! Make sure its a clean sweep and keep your mouth shut, and I will send you another forty grand. Understand? Yes, Dukey. Its as good as done. Ill need the ten grand you already owe me within the next week, however. Yeah, yeah! The Duke hung up the phone, no longer impressed by the tender greens at the end of his fork. What he needed now was a smoke. He had a hunch that Agent Jack Grimsby was getting weak in the knees, and even weaker in the mind. Militello would need to sniff this one out further. He dialed his second in command. Yeah, Kevin. The Duke here. Were you aware Grimsby returned to our man at the ISP for Putnams records? ...Say what?! He took a wire? ...So youve been tailing him since yesterday. ...Give me the low down on this Stanbridge character? Do we have any dirt on him? ...Yeah? Good! I wouldnt worry about big blacky. Just keep him out of the way. Ill take care of it all when I get home on Saturday.

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Chapter 33 M
onk walked slowly to Putnam IIIs ofce at the other end of the hall, his heart heavy with loss. So? What happened? wondered Alex, studying the serious look on the clerics face. He chose to remain enslaved, he sighed, shutting the door behind him. The Great One gave him an opportunity for freedom, but he was unwilling to humble himself. Monk sat down, opposite Alex, continuing to speak. Addictions are the result of dark magic, which exploit insecurity gaps in a persons soul. These gaps are conditioned into a person from a very young age. The magic, promises to ll the gap with a hit that will make the person feel complete for a time; all for the negligible cost of absolute enslavement of the soul, he said darkly. An addiction is an illusion. According to the Laws established by the Ancient Ways, a person may be tempted into the prison cell of addiction, but the door must always remain open. Because people are free to leave their cell at any time, the captors use repetitive key-words, fear, and shame, to keep their prisoners locked up. It is accomplished through simple occult smoke and mirrors. Materialism is the most common addiction in the west. If you put a suburban family in a dismal shanty, with more than enough food, clothing, and water, but no ability to purchase things, you would see them go into a withdrawal similar to that of a drug addict. The same goes for television, the internet, social networking, and even going to church! All of these are strong addictive forces that control the human mind. Yet, unlike alcohol or drug addiction, there is no shame in our modern world associated with these. But the most powerful addiction by far, is pride. Pride contains the strongest delusion of any compulsion, because it is composed of the most potent strains of enlightenment magic from the Light Bearer, himself. Ironically, the Light Bearers illumination is so bright, that it blinds those who are held captive by it; casting their soul into utter darkness. Because of this, others must be willing to bravely enter their cell, grab them by the hand, and lead them out the door. But if they refuse to go, the prisoner must be left behind. Is that what happened to Randall? inquired Alex. Did you grab him by the hand to lead him to the door, and he refused? Monk nodded. After someone is addicted to the spirit of pride, it is very difcult for them to reconsider a life of humility. Why? They have become convinced that their

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treasures of status, reputation, power, money, and so on, are more important than the freedom made available to them by the Messiah and a life of humility. Humankind was delivered a message from the Messiah. He said, Ill lead you from your prison cell. But you cant leave, unless you unload yourselves of every enlightened treasure. Its impossible to go out of the unlocked prison door carrying all of that stuff. But if you drop it all on the oor of your jail cell, becoming as humble and naked as you once were before you ate from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, I will lead you out into a world of freedom. The Messiah demonstrated the essence of the Ancient Ways, by practicing what he preached. He rst showed humankind how to be free by teaching them with his words. Then he demonstrated it, by dropping everything he possessed to the ground, to become nothing. In the humility of that action, he showed us how to walk out of the prison door into a life of eternal freedom. So whats going to happen to Randall? Alex wondered. Status quo, replied Monk sounding depressed. There was a light tap on the door before it opened. Hey fellas. It was Randall, and there was hostility in his eyes. Im going to have to ask you both to leave. He then fastened his attention on his junior pastor. Alex, I know youve been seeing Meghan. This violates the agreement between you and the Church Board. As of now, you are being suspended without pay until I can meet with the Board to determine your future working relationship with us. If you are remotely tempted to tell lies about me or the church, we will rescind any severance pay coming your way, and initiate a defamation lawsuit. You can collect the rest of your stuff at a later date. Alex shrugged his shoulders glancing in Monks direction; a hollow feeling materializing in the pit of his gut. The cleric gathered his brown robe, and wordlessly walked from the room. ***** After his successful sting at the Internet Service Providers ofce, Grimsby was on a high. This was why he had become an agent: to sniff out evildoers; gathering the evidence that would put them away for a long time. As he drove, he listened to the recording he had made. Gerard Levacs voice was crystal clear. Once in the hands of

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Zeke Marlow and his crew, The Duke and the Agency would nd themselves under public scrutiny. Maybe there would even be a Congressional hearing! He was three exits away from the freeway leading to Camden Heights, when he made a split second decision, racing down the exit leading toward the Congressional Library. Interviewing the staff at Camden Heights First United Congregational Church could wait. Militello would just have him running around doing mindless work once he returned, so he may as well pack in some research during his lunch break. It didnt take him long to nd his helpful librarian assistant, which was preferential to the confusing computer cataloguing system. She smiled excitedly when she saw her student. So what have you learned? she asked. Best as I can tell, the entire country was dedicated, from its origins, to the star Sirius. But I have yet to determine why? Thats because you arent studying the luminaries, she scolded. Luminaries? Please speak in English lady! Im referring to the fathers of enlightenment philosophy, she explained. Late in the sixteenth century, Sir Francis Bacon was given a vision by his spirit guide, who showed him a detailed plan regarding the settlement of North America. Bacon believed that America would be the New Atlantis. You mentioned that before, commented Grimsby. What is the signicance of Atlantis? Atlantis was an island noted for its beauty and prosperity, before it sank into the sea. According to the legend, it was also the most enlightened civilization to ever inhabit the earth. It has been said that its inhabitants were so clairvoyantly adept, a third eye, physically opened on their foreheads. Okay, said Grimsby beginning to get frustrated. I dont have much interest in mythology. I only want to know why Sirius is so important! Were getting there, the librarian frowned. The importance of Sirius only makes sense if you rst understand the mindset of some of Americas most inuential founders! Heres the point I am getting at. America from the outset has been inuenced by two polarizing forces. Many of the political founders of the United States were greatly inuenced by principles of illumination. They established the country to be the New Atlantis; a nation where occultism could prosper outside of the restrictive boundaries established by Christianity.

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But the spiritual founders of America were Christian. In the years before America formally declared her independence from Britain, these leaders brought a Great Awakening to the land, inspiring its citizens to bow their knees to the Jewish God Yahweh also known as Jehovah and his son. Understanding this is key to comprehending the importance of the star Sirius in the design of Washington D.C. If you try to view what Im telling you through the preconception that the Founding Fathers were the Christian pillars of the nation, you will completely miss the point! Okay, the agent tried to calm any feathers he may have rufed. That makes sense to me. Many of the inuential political founders of the United States were adepts in astrology and the occult arts. This is why Washington was designed according to the stars. Enlightened adepts believed that there were certain symbols which contained vibratory power. Therefore, replicating these symbols in Washingtons architecture was a method of harnessing supernatural power. Pretty wild, huh? As Grimsby turned it over in his head, he commented, You know. That makes a lot of sense! Any time my family from out of town comes to visit, they always talk about a surreal buzzing they feel when they enter D.C. They often comment that they can feel a power surge here. A subjective observation, said his library teacher drily, but interesting nonetheless. Now to Sirius: With the mindset that more than a few of Americas political founders were inclined toward occult enlightenment teachings, why would they nd it necessary to dedicate the Nations Capital, to the star Sirius? In order to nd the answer, we have to think as would an expert in the occult. Wait here! she commanded, as she disappeared among the rows of books. Grimsby was uncertain if he could hang in much longer, and was worried he had bitten off more than he could chew. He excelled in street smarts, not book smarts. The library assistant returned ten minutes later with an armful of books, some already opened to specic pages. She dropped them on the table and picked up a weary looking hardcover, with the title, Sirius. Scanning the pages, she stated: Ah-ha! Heres what I have been looking for! The author, of this book, Mr. Richmond, is an occult adept. Theres no better way to think like an occultist, than to read an occultist, she quipped, as she began to read a passage:

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"The Euphrateans, Persians, Phoenicians, and the peoples of Vedic India called Sirius, The Leader, while the Romans knew Sirius as Janitor Lethacus, or Keeper of Hell, both of which titles are perhaps reminiscent of Anubis, the Egyptian god who led the deceased through the underworld. The Egyptians themselves reverenced Sirius under several other names as well, including Sothis, Sothi, Sept, Sepet, Sopdet, Sot, and Sed."

The librarian failed to wait for a response, ipping to another book entitled Isis Unveiled. Every New Age mystery religion on the face of the earth today nds its roots in this womans writings, she proclaimed while peeling through the pages. H.P. Blavatsky was the founder of a Luciferian secret society called, Theosophy. She also has an opinion regarding the dog-star Sirius, also called Anubis, that was referred to by the Egyptians as Set.
... Hermes, the god of wisdom, called also Thoth, Tat, Seth, Set, and Sat-an, and that he was, furthermore, when viewed under his bad aspect, Typhon, the Egyptian Satan, who was also Set.

And then, she said, lost in her own literary world, not too long ago, I read a quote from a woman in this book, she held up a book on Egyptian mythology, right here! she said pointing. Now go ahead, and read that for yourself.
...Anubis was a god of divination and magic...

Then, pulling out an enormous text entitled Morals and Dogma, she said, Let us look what the dominant philosopher of the Craft, Albert Pike has to say. As she ipped through the pages, she commented, Were you aware theres a statue of Mr. Pike just down the road from here? The Craft really reveres this guy. Here we are! Right here on page fteen, it says that the Blazing Star of the Crafts Lodges represent Sirius. He goes on to state that the dog star is the Guardian Guide of their Souls. Assuming that Anubis is another name for Lucifer, consider Pikes words here:
Lucifer, the Light-bearer! Strange and mysterious name to give to the Spirit of Darkness! Lucifer, the Son of the Morning! Is it he who bears the Light, and with its splendors intolerable blinds feeble, sensual, or selsh Souls? Doubt it not.

And nally, in this book lled with essays written by outspoken transhumanists... I remembered this paragraph by Max More, that neatly reects the thoughts of our Mr. Pike.
Lucifer is the embodiment of reason, of intelligence, of critical thought. He stands against the dogma of God and all other dogmas. He stands for the exploration of new ideas and new perspectives in the pursuit of truth.

Have you had enough yet? she smiled sweetly.

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I cant process any more! groaned the agent. Would you be kind enough to summarize? Certainly! she pronounced. Sticking with the objective facts at hand, I would say that there is an enormous amount of evidence indicating that Washington D.C. was designed by people who were well-connected into dark spiritualism. Their understanding of astrology and occult deities are undeniable. Im going to let you decide why they chose to celebrate such deities through the design of Washingtons architecture. You dont have an opinion? the agent pled. Really sir. It should not be difcult to form an opinion, based on all the facts readily at hand. ***** Alexander Putnam III and Monk parted company in the foyer of the building, knowing that once they were in the parking lot, they would likely be followed. The cleric would meet his men at a designated location outside of town, where they would switch cars before proceeding to the Talbott mansion. Alex, still in shock at his dismissal, considered going home to take a nap. Before leaving, Monk reminded Alex that he should be on the lookout for a text message indicating the rendezvous point for his next meeting with Nicodemus on Friday. Alex waited for ten minutes until Monk was well on his way, then squealed angrily out of the parking lot in his Jeep. Screw the nap! It was Meghans day off and he needed a friend. He drove erratically, playing the stop light game as often as he could, hoping the spooks were as pissed-off as he was. He parked a mile away from the restaurant district, ran his usual routine of ducking through stores and bars, until he sprinted to the back steps behind the Italian restaurant. Meghan opened the door after the second knock. He was glad he had made the trip; she was a sight for sore eyes. One look at his face told her all she needed to know. Wordlessly, she pulled him toward her, resting her head on his chest. They stood that way, just inside the door, for several minutes before either spoke. Alex shut his eyes, comforted by the embrace, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo, nding it intoxicatingly feminine. How had a one-time party-girl transformed into this strong, beautiful woman? She was driven by what she wanted out of life, working hard to achieve her goals, yet somehow had managed to remain so soft, and graceful.

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Did he the one-time connoisseur of two-dimensional females who lacked feelings and personality deserve the attention and support of this magnicent three-dimensional creature? What had Nicodemus called him? An insincere prick? Was he on a path of changing for the better? What did he want out of life? As they came apart, her green eyes studied his defeated posture. Tell me whats happened, Meghan said, pulling him toward the couch. He told her of his early morning meeting with Randall, how Monk had burst onto the scene, and how it eventually led to his suspension. It seemed the man in brown had confronted the senior pastor about something, which had set him off. So youre nished at the church for good? she wondered. I have been asked to stay away until they can reconvene the disciplinary committee. Personally, I dont know how this can have a good ending. You dont? she looked at him quizzically, searching his face. It suddenly struck him that he was a fool who spoke too often without thinking. Had he just sent a wrong message? It pained him to think that he may have just caused Meghan distress. He had done that once before, and it remained a decision that he had regretted. Why was he trying to hold on so tightly to his job at the church? Was it because of the prominence it gave him in the community? The security of a paycheck in a poor economy? His desire to have his father perceive him as a success? The truth was, he hated his job! What I mean is, he claried, there cannot be a good ending when it comes to my relationship with the church. Perhaps I should just tender my resignation. Meghan seemed to relax somewhat. And then what would you do? I dont have a clue, he said despondently. If everything Monk has been sharing with me is true, I have to believe that there is something bigger going on that I am supposed to be a part of. Good and evil are battling it out, and I dont think I supposed to sit on the sidelines anymore. Somehow, I have to nd out how I t in the Great Ones plan. ...Great One? she asked. Its just another way of saying God. I picked it up from Monk and Nicodemus, Alex explained. Maybe getting canned from the church is a blessing in disguise. Perhaps this was one way of getting me out of my rut.

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Meghan laughed. I know that reconnecting with you has pulled me out of mine. Sliding her hand into his, she spoke positively: Know this Alex. Regardless of whether you leave the church or not, I am grateful for the time weve spent. Last time, I was hurt when you chose the church over me. But I was responding from a place of insecurity, because I thought that you were the answer to all my problems. I am more condent than ever that if we incline our hearts toward the will of the Great One, we will both nd our answers. So whatever you decide, know that I am contented. I may not like it, she said seriously, but I wont ght it like the last time. As she spoke, he felt a burden come off his shoulders. The cloud of confusion surrounding the guilt he felt over this incredible woman dissipated. He would be crazy to live without her. I didnt have any plans for today other than doing a little laundry, Meghan said. What do you want to do with the rest of the day? He had some ideas, but doubted that right at that moment they had anything to do with the Great Ones plan. So he took it in another direction: Lets go to a matine. I could use a little distraction in my life right now. He would have never guessed it by her countenance, but so could she. Alex backtracked Meghan through his stealth ritual, making their way through bars and stores to return to his Jeep. They walked the nal twenty yards together hand in hand, failing to notice the grey SUV, parked on the opposite side of the road. Distracted by the affections of the others company, they drove to the movie theater at the mall, unaware that they were being followed.

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Chapter 34 M
adame Chantalle was surprised to nd only ve girls at the safe house. The guard, judging by the look of confusion on his face, was equally startled by her presence. The etiquette teacher explained that she was early, due to a conict in her schedule. The warden had approved of the change. The guard seemed appeased. He had been told to expect Maxwells aesthetician who was coming to make the girls pretty before their big date, so it only made sense the Miss Manners had also been called in to brush up on their public conduct. The wide-bodied, motherly woman casually commented about the missing girls to the guard. He told her they had each paid their debt to society, and had been returned home after a sendoff graduation ceremony. A new group would be soon joining them. But what about these ve? Their time would be up Sunday evening, when they too, would be released. Madame Chantalle felt uneasy, sensing that something was amiss. Like a mother hen, she gathered her young chicks for a lesson on table manners, nding their quiet compliance strange. Shouldnt the girls be reecting an excitement about reentering a life of freedom in general society? She perceived their palpable fear. What was going on here? Recalling Felicitys desperate plight from several months ago, she wondering if she had been too hasty in brushing her aside. Felicitys presence among the group always struck her as odd. There was nothing delinquent about the girl. At the time, she had reassured herself that even good girls sometimes make mistakes. But now she was not so sure. Her mission, like all of the other graduates of the monastery, was to inltrate and to extricate. During her months of rebirth into the Ancient Ways, she had learned that dark spiritual forces were ramping up for a massive assault on humankind. Monk had explained in great detail that there had never been a time since the death of the Messiah, that the globe had been so rife with diabolic enlightenment. To combat this, a resistance was being formed in order to contend for specic souls who were currently being employed to great effect by the dark side. The Rebirthed Resistance were to inltrate enemy strongholds with the crafty wisdom of serpents, while appearing harmless as doves. Then, they were to extricate the elect: inuential people with a natural understanding of the spiritual world, who would agree to be made free. After being rebirthed into the Ancient Ways at the monastery, these elect would be redeployed into other hotspots, further poking holes in the Light Bearers plan for global domination.

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As per Monks instruction, each student from the monastery was to live and work in an assigned region, relying solely upon the Great One to point out who they were supposed to extricate. The lives of every member of the Rebirthed Resistance were no longer their own. Each put their life on the line every day, with the sober realization that the resistance would not grow without self-sacrice. After obtaining her job to teach etiquette for a private contractor in the corrections industry, Madame Chantalle was sure that Felicity was the reason she was there. But confusion entered in after she became convinced that Felicity had already been reborn into the Ancient Ways. How could she extricate someone who had already been made free? Was she merely working in this correctional facility to spring this young girl from her physical prison? That to her, did not make sense. Felicity would already be free in a matter of days. Perhaps she had been there simply to lend encouragement? Who knew? Friday morning, her parents would be ying in from Paris for the weekend. After she returned them to the airport on Sunday afternoon, she would swing by the juvenile detention house to send the girls off with her best wishes. Perhaps if she met with the girls parents, things would be made clearer. Demonstrating the proper placement of cutlery for a table setting, she whispered to Felicity. Is everything okay? The guard was never too far out of earshot, and it made moments of private communication strained and difcult. Something bad is going to happen, said Felicity under her breath. I can feel it! You must help us Madame! What do you mean? Ladies! Please stop your whispering, said the guard in a bored tone. By now the rules should be quite clear. If you cant speak so that I can hear you, you shouldnt be speaking at all. His intensity had diminished signicantly since the other guard had departed. Yes sir, Madame responded respectfully. I was just saying, the girls dont seem very excited to be released this Sunday. They just miss their friends maam, replied the guard nonchalantly. Just get on with the lesson. These girls have some busy days of preparation as they get ready for their new life of freedom. Madame Chantalle was not convinced. Was that a desperate pleading in the girls eyes? Was something bad really about to happen?

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***** Monk had just stepped inside the front door of the mansion when a disheveled-looking George Talbott, limped quickly toward him. I think I need to meet with Alex today! he rasped, the thick accent failing to conceal his obvious fear. I napped this afternoon as I normally do, and had a terrifying dream. Go on, encouraged Monk as he hung up his coat. Taking hold of the hunched over mans arm, he slowly led him toward the study. In my dream, I was meeting with the Council of Thirteen, explaining to them that I would be resigning from each of my posts. I was sitting on one side of a long table, and they were sitting opposite me. It was a civil discourse at rst, as I explained that I needed to be released, so that the journey of my soul could continue, until it found its way home. As I spoke, my chest began to glow with a bright light, eventually blinding the Council. At rst they merely winced and complained, but then they began screaming horrible, profane things. The thirteen of them suddenly assembled to become a prodigious, raging darkness which towered over me. It shouted Liar! in a voice with many layers that was so loud, the room shook. Like a cloud it descended upon me, crowding out the light radiating from my chest. The darkness was suffocating. Wave upon wave of darkness splashed over my light until it was extinguished. All became an empty darkness for some time. Suddenly, there was a blinding ash of light, and I awoke. What do you think it means? Talbott asked, perspiring profusely, as he collapsed into a chair. Im afraid it means that time is once again accelerating on us, dear friend. Ill send Alex a text message, explaining that well need to bring him here sooner than later, said Monk, while nding a chair opposite the aging industrialist. He took a deep breath, attempting to shield himself from the arrows of anxiety now ying through in the room that were desperately seeking a target. If I can get him here by 3 or 4PM, will you still be up to it? This will take a lot out of you. Ill be up for it, Talbott said grufy. My primary concern is that he actually comprehends what it is that I am saying. The mind of a man so steeped in organized religion is bound to have his ears bent in the wrong direction. I cant afford to have this be a waste of time when theres no time to waste. He caught an earful today, relayed the man in brown, grimly. Im afraid I may have contributed to his being suspended from his job at the church. It was bound to happen in due time. But like everything on this assignment, events continue to happen more

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quickly than we had originally planned for. But we must remain calm, knowing that Great One uses these issues of timing to increase our trust in his ways. In these circumstances, we must constantly remind each other to keep loose hands, for we cannot control the outcome. In fact, Monk continued, I think Alexander has hit rock bottom. There is no better place in the world to be. At this stage, he has nothing to lose, because to him, everything has already been lost. I think he will be receptive to what you are going to tell him. Talbott protested: But what Im going to tell him wont make sense unless he fully realizes that organized religion no matter how well-intentioned by some is hopelessly infected by pride and greed. I seriously doubt he realizes that going to church is a colossal waste of time and resources. If he believes otherwise, hes simply going to become defensive to what I must say. His eyes were opened today, Monk assured. I dont know of a better time to have the discussion with him than right now. But Im kicking myself. Had I known about this before, I could have brought him back to the mansion with me. We could have gotten started right away! Monk opened the phone and began typing. He sent the message, and waited for the conrmation that it had been received. After ten minutes of no response, Monk became worried. The phone he had given Alex had been pre-congured to send a conrming message once a text had been delivered, and once it had been read. No conrmations were forthcoming. He sent the text again, not mentioning a word to George Talbott, for fear that it would upset the old man, who was already in such a fragile state. Still, there was no response. Monk began growing even more concerned. He excused himself, walking briskly to the room lled with surveillance equipment. Perhaps he could get a better read on things from the transmitters planted in Putnams house or car. There was no way that Monk could have known that Alex had unconsciously turned the phone off, just before the matine had begun. ***** On a hunch, Agent Jack Grimsby decided to return to headquarters before making the trip out of town to interview the staff at Camden Heights First United Congregational Church. He was distressed that the decrypted les from AP3s laptop could fall into the wrong hands.

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As he drove, he considered the implications of his ndings at the library, deliberating whether any of the incredible conspiracy research dug up by the feisty librarian could possibly be true. Prior to his leaving, the librarian had insisted that she clarify the nature of Luciferianism. With all the talk of Sirius and Lucifer, he had wondered out loud if the members of the Craft were Satanists. The bookworm teacher took him to task, stating that while both philosophies revered the Dark Lord as their guide and Light Bearer, there were notable differences between the two. He had to wait another ten minutes while she gathered more books. In round-two she huddled in close, demonstrating through primary sources that Luciferianism, was indeed the true religion of the Craft, with its foundation established on the writings of ancient Gnostics and Kabbalists. According their myths, Yahweh was a lesser god, who as an oppressive tyrant was the embodiment of arrogance, and as such, was the source of all religious superstition and ignorance. Yahweh also called Jehovah was hell-bent on keeping humankind ignorant of the true divinity deposited in them by the high god, and therefore forbade humankind from eating of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden. Therefore, the serpent who told Eve to eat from the Tree so that she could be as a god, was not wicked. He was a type of messiah, who came to free humankind from their dark ignorance. Through the Light Bearers Illumination, humankind were then capable of fullling their true purpose: to ascend to the heavens to rule as gods, themselves. In this regard, it was stated that the great teacher Jesus Christ demonstrated that any Luciferian adept could defeat the ignorance of death as long as his soul was made perfect enough through enlightenment. Traveling the road of enlightenment then, could theoretically span the centuries, as each human being was reincarnated from life to life; preferably each new incarnation closer to the embodiment of perfection. Luciferianism was therefore the librarian concluded the basis for many of the worlds modern systems, and was the philosophy which motivated secular humanism. By convincing humankind to reject the moral laws established by Yawheh, the Illumined Ones gripped by the Light Bearers secret wisdom became the globes new moral authority. It was shocking, really. But the more Grimsby thought about it, the more sense it made. No wonder The Duke didnt want to do things by the book. And what shifty dealings was his cohort Putnam II up to, as he went about his arms dealing. Would he prot by selling to two sides of a war? Was he capable of even worse?

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Jack pulled into a convenience store close to the Agency, and dialed Zeke Marlows number from a pay phone. After what he had just learned, he had new reasons for being paranoid. From now on, it would only be pay phones; when he could nd them. Hearing the deep resonance of the voice at the other end of the receiver, the agent yelled over the trafc noise from the nearby road. Zeke! Jack Grimsby here. Yeah... I have the audio recording. He spells it out, nice and clearly... the Agency is using the ISP to spy on Congressmen. Do you want me to drop it by? ...Too risky? ...Fair enough, Ill meet you tomorrow at 8AM in the foyer of the Congressional Library. Grimsby breathed a sigh of relief. Soon it would be over. Or was it only beginning? Acting as though he was rearranging some items in his trunk, he slid the digital recording device containing the damning evidence, beneath a panel hiding the spare tire and jack, hoping it would remain safe until morning. He then drove on to HQ. Once on the seventh oor, he found his man, who looked distressed upon seeing him. Now that was odd. Could the poor guy be growing tired of his constant harassment? Is it nished being decrypted? Grimsby wondered excitedly. Was this going to be a slam dunk day, where both George Talbott and The Duke met justice? Coming down from this high would be a real downer. It was turning out to be a fabulous day! The tech shook his head, refusing to make eye contact. Not yet, sir. Its taking its sweet time on the last twenty megabytes. Thats pretty typical though, because the program is trying make sure everything is wrapped up properly. Id say tomorrow morning would be a sure bet. Fair enough. Remember! Off the mainframe, and onto my desk, the agent reminded. Yes sir! Agent Grimsby had just completed some paperwork and was about to leave his ofce for Camden Heights when Kevin Militello poked his head in. Hey Grim. Ive been looking over your time sheets and you have really been busting your balls the last few months. Why dont you take the rest of the day off. We already have three guys in Camden Heights. Ill just send one of them over to interview the staff at the church, he offered pleasantly, sidling up to the stocky agent, bumping Jack off balance while clumsily attempting to put an arm around his shoulders, just like a real buddy would. Was the world coming to an end? He was going to bust Talbott and The Duke, and now the unit second-in-command was actually demonstrating compassion? When it rained, it poured. Thanks, Kev. But I better go out and do the interview. I dont want to miss anything on this case.

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Militello was insistent. No. Someone brought it to my attention that The Duke and I havent been respectful of the fact that many of our colleagues have families. The hours the Agency has been working some of you guys must be a challenge to your home-life. Lets just say that Ive seen the error of my ways, he smiled. Ill have the boys record the interview for you, and you can always go back out there later. Seriously, go home and take care of what really matters. Family should always come rst. Becoming a real softie arent you, Grimsby muttered, suspicious of the uncharacteristic kindness. Was the agent up to no good? Or had Militello had his wrist slapped from someone higher up in the food chain? He hoped so. As for himself, more time with his family was just what the doctor ordered. Thank you Kevin. Ill take the afternoon. Just be sure they tape it. You got it! yelled Militello, retreating down the hallway. Now get out of here!

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Chapter 35 S
ometimes the best remedy for a life plagued by chaos was to watch the drama of someone else as it unfolded on the silver screen. Alex and Meghan cuddled in closely, lost in a world of action and adventure; contented to be sharing each others company. The lm took them on a journey; far, far away from all encroaching turmoil. It was 100 minutes of escapism: a moment to relax and bask in the ickering of light pouring from the lens of a projector. But escapism came at a price that ran deeper than movie tickets. When the citizens of a country became addicted to the prescriptions offered to them by the entertainment industry, they also became a nation incapable of maintaining a shred of common sense or decency. For unprecedented inuence over the culture had now been relinquished to an elite group of people who were largely, morally depraved. With the increasing global popularity of electronic media including satellite transmissions and the internet the rest of the world also became exposed to a healthy dose of toxic American culture. At one time, the inhabitants of undeveloped countries had been contented with their simple way of life. Subsistence farmers worked according to the seasons and taught their sons to do the same. Their wives created modest meals in their modest homes. Families took pride in hard-working mothers and fathers; in children who were being taught how to become well-adjusted adults; in an uncomplicated faith in God; and in the security found within their tight-knit communities. After several years of American satellite TV, however, the citizens of these countries found themselves increasingly isolated from their communities, as families began to favor the ickering, pale light from the box in the corner, over cantina patio lanterns blowing in the gentle breeze. Their children no longer took pride in their humble origins and began to resent the simple lessons of literacy at school. They also rebelled against the idea of working in the elds next to their fathers, as they were now overcome by an insatiable appetite for sex, consumer electronics, ashy cars, and other bling. Women no longer wanted their husbands to provide for them. Being under the thumb of those dumb rascals was no picnic. Men became bitter and detached, disenchanted by the recent revelation that no matter how hard they worked, there would never be enough to keep their families satised. They spent more time and money drinking with their buddies, while fantasizing about scantily clad American blondes. It was the same story all around the world, as indigenous populations witnessed the collapse of their unique customs and traditions. All it took, was a few watts of electricity, a box, and a dish, to unwind civilizations that had taken thousands of years to develop;

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instantly transforming them into cultures with voracious appetites for materialism and unbridled lust. Many elders of these communities were mortied, pronouncing that the new technologies which transmitted the moving pictures from America originated in hell. They failed to realize, however, that the electricity, the box, and the dish were not the primary offenders. The culprit was the message; a message carefully crafted by Illumined Ones, who were driven to enlighten the world beyond its dull-witted superstitions and customs of ignorance. Of such enlightened reasoning, the Messiah once said:
"Make a tree good, and then its fruit will be good. Or make a tree rotten, and then its fruit will be rotten. A person can recognize a tree by its fruit. You poisonous snakes! How can you evil people say anything good? Your mouth says what comes from inside you. Good people do the good things that are in them. But evil people do the evil things that are in them. "I can guarantee that on judgment day people will have to give an account of every careless word they say. By your words you will be declared innocent, or by your words you will be declared guilty."

While the words spewing from the mouth of America through its entertainment industry may have convinced Islamic communities that the United States was the Great White Satan, Alex and Meghan were too in love to notice. They snuggled deep in their seats, enjoying each others physical touch; engrossed by the unfolding drama ashing across the screen; captivated by their rediscovered emotional connection. It was good not to be alone. It was good to have someone to share life with. It was good to have something to look forward to; together. As the credits rolled, they stretched and yawned, whispering about their favorite scenes. For a brief instant, the requirements of life in the outside world had been wiped clean. There was now room in their hearts to dream about sharing a quiet supper together, allowing a romantic evening to unfold. But events outside of the theater were continuing to develop, and were about to pull Alex and Meghan back into their vortex. The mall parking garage was quiet as they made their way back to the Jeep. Alex took Meghan in his arms, and did his primitive-best to ballroom dance. He was no dancer, but she was beautiful, and his passion was stirred. Long, dark hair owed; green eyes sparkled; full lips beckoned. Screeching tires and the violent roar of a racing motor interrupted the fantasy. Alex instinctively pushed Meghan down between two parked cars desperately wanting her to

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remain unseen. This was it, then. This would be when they came and took him away, perhaps never to be heard from again. He shoved his hand into his jeans pocket, madly groping for his keys, which were tangled among loose change and dollar bills. There was no time! He grabbed everything, and thrust it into Meghans hands. Stay low! he shouted, as he ung himself into the open; sprinting down the parking lot, mere feet in front of the hurtling SUV. They might get him, but he was going to be absolutely certain they didnt get her. Tires squealed to a stop, and a door ew open. He breathed a little easier when two monks pulled him in, while a third revved the engine, tearing out of the parking lot. For the rst two miles, he could hear the commotion of competing engines and tires behind them, as it seemed that several vehicles were doing their best to keep up in pursuit. But the monk behind the wheel was a pro, rotating the vehicle around corners, oversteering a little here, stabbing the brakes there. Eventually the mammoth truck settled into a normal rhythm along with the rest of the trafc. Half-an-hour later they pulled up to an abandoned alleyway in a run-down part of town, where the two monks in the back seat motioned for Alex to get out, directing him to a waiting, windowless van. Not a word was spoken. ***** The Duke was back in his hotel eating caviar and sipping expensive whiskey trying his damnedest to memorize the rites for his induction ceremony on Friday. While he could remember the minutest details of his meeting with the Council of Thirteen, the cryptic wording of the rites were infuriatingly cumbersome. Between the frustrating memory work, and the caviar which he found to be distasteful he began relying more upon the whiskey. He picked up his ringing cell phone. Yeah! The Duke here. Yeah Duke. Its Kevin. Those les we lifted from AP3s laptop have been decrypted. Youre not going to believe this! Lay it on me, said the senior agent, grateful for a distraction. Our man Talbott went to Putnam III to get him to write a tell-all book about the secrets of the high and mighty. The text le contained some notes to that end, but the really interesting part was the audio les. On the nal recording, a new voice joins that of AP3 and Talbott: a Mr. Monk. Whether he is truly a monk or not, I cant tell; but his men are the ones who are assisting Talbott.

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Fascinating! What interest does Mr. Monk have in assisting George Talbott? asked The Duke, taking another pull on his drink. Youre going to laugh at this, boss. He has a spiritual interest, if you can imagine. Apparently Talbott has become some kind of tight-assed Jesus worshipper; the stupid fool. Anyway, pass-code your way onto the Agency mainframe and check your email. I have sent you a link to a le called, Greybeard. This is a very timely discovery, Kevin. Thank you. It seems Mr. Talbott has meetings with some high ranking people here tomorrow. Depending on how convincing the evidence is against him, I imagine this case will be soon closed! he announced with enthusiasm. Closing a high prole case like this would show all these uppity New Yorkers that he was the man for the job. Director Duke. It had a nice ring to it. ***** Jack Grimsby was thrilled to see his toddlers playing in the pile of leaves he had raked under a large oak tree in his front yard. Hey boys! he yelled. Look whos home early! Second day in a row! Daddy! they exclaimed, as four little legs ran in his direction. The three of them returned to the leaf pile and wrestled around noisily, enjoying the rare warmth of the fall sun. After twenty minutes of horsing around, Jack began to wonder where Wanda was. It wasnt like her to leave the kids in the front yard unsupervised. Wheres mommy? he asked the boys. Has she been out playing in the leaves too? The youngsters shook their heads, seriously. Mommys inside crying, one of them explained. Crying? Shes looking at pictures and crying. She told us to go outside, said the other. Why dont you boys play in the other leaf pile in the back yard, and Ill come out and see you in a few minutes, okay? Grimsby suggested. Okay Daddy! they agreed, zipping through the gate he was holding open. What was going on? Had Wandas parents sent more pictures of when she was young? His wife was emotional, but not to the point of neglecting their children. Perhaps she had heard him drive in, and was using the time to regroup.

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She looked up as he entered the kitchen, startled by his presence. What are you doing here? she hissed. Pardon me? Jack was taken aback. Last night had been the rst time in months that they had shared intimately. He knew that his busy schedule and constant exhaustion had strained their relationship, but after last night, all of that should have been behind them. When were you going to tell me, Jack? Huh??? When were you going to tell me! she repeated angrily, dumping some black and white glossy photos from a manilla envelope. Tell you what? he was genuinely confused. A look of shock came over his face when he caught sight of himself in one of the pictures. He was in the Congressional Library, sitting at a table, looking up, smiling at the prim-and-proper library assistant, who was leaning over, pointing something out in a book. He thumbed through the photos, his heart racing. Someone was setting him up for a fall. They must have known about his conversation with Zeke Marlow. Who was selling him down the river? Surely the Senator would do no such thing. Somebody knows I am about to whistleblow, he explained. Like I shared with you before, Ive been doing some research at the library, and that kind lady has been helping me, thats all. Someone is trying to scare us. Ill take care of this! he proclaimed, his initial shock now being replaced by anger. Screwing around with his family was way over the line! Youll take care of it, huh Jack! Wanda glared. You actually had me convinced that you were working long hours and weekends, when really you were just hanging out with this bimbo. What do you make of this? she asked, sliding three pictures across the table to him. In each shot, he and the librarian appeared to be engaged in a compromising position: the back of his head, in a tight embrace; his side prole as he looked upon her body draped over a library table; his eyes staring deeply into hers. Its all fancy photo-editing Wanda. I can introduce you to this woman, and she will tell you the same thing. Ive only seen her at the library twice! At the ofce I have copies of my time sheets that will show you that Ive been working the long hours Ive claimed. Who was screwing with him and his family? Whoever it was, was about to get a taste of something ugly. You know, Jack, I already thought about that angle. So I got on the phone with your supervisor, and really bitched him out. I told him, that Id had enough of your long hours, and he acted genuinely surprised that I was phoning him. He said there must be some misunderstanding because youd been pulling forty hour weeks the last 6 months. What!?

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He even volunteered to fax over a copy of your time sheets, she said, lifting a stack of papers from a chair. How do you explain that, Jack! How do you explain that, you cheating asshole! she threw the pages at him, resuming her uncontrollable weeping. Militello! Was he responsible for this? What had he said? Family comes rst? Its all because I am going to whistleblow, honey. Theyre trying to destroy me, before I can turn over the evidence I gathered today. Evidence you gathered at the library? I know you were there today. I have a picture of your car, right out in front, license plate exposed, with todays front page of the newspaper draped across the bumper. All of this, after I forced myself to be vulnerable with you last night? I think Ive had enough Jack. I think you need to go. Wait Wanda! Think about it. Someone is taking great pains to make me look guilty. Why would someone take the time to take pictures of my car with todays headlines on the bumper? Why would someone obviously alter these photographs? Do you really think that woman is going to lie down like that on a library table in broad daylight? All of this has been contrived. Obviously, someone from the Agency is trying to set me up! Can we not just take a deep breath here, and think this one through? She blew her nose noisily into a tissue. Ive thought it through, Jack. Had you been home the last 6 months, this would be a no brainer. But weve been drifting apart; like two ships passing in the night. I dont even know you any more. And now I know why. Youre going to need to leave, Jack. Dont make me call the cops. At that moment, Grimsby could have chosen between rage and tears. He stared blankly out the patio door watching his two little boys throwing leaves at each other, and chose rage. Looking into the red, welled-up eyes of his wife, he spoke with gentle sincerity. I love you Wanda. Ive always loved you. You will always be my beautiful bride. He turned then, heading upstairs to pack some things. As he did, he took hold of the sidearm strapped under his jacket. It was reassuring to know that when all was said and done, his destiny could still be held in his own two hands.

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Chapter 36 P
acing in her loft apartment, Meghan wondered what could be done. There was nothing to do but pray. Initially once her body had stopped shaking she had thought about calling the cops to report the abduction. That was before she took inventory of everything Alex had thrust into her hands before taking off on foot down the row of parked cars. Among the keys, loose change, and lint, was a sleek, black, clamshell phone. Once behind the locked doors of the Jeep, she ipped the phone open, and saw that it had been shut off; probably by Alex before the movie. Holding down a button to turn it back on, she heard a chirp, and read the prompt indicating that there were now two new text messages. Pressing another button, and they came up on the screen. Schedule change. Will pick u up one hour. -M Dont reply. Phone not working. Were coming for you anyway. -M Was that a message from the man called Monk from the recording she had heard on Alexanders computer? She scrolled down to read the other messages on the phone, also from the mysterious M, reminding herself that this was not the time to feel awkward about invading privacy. The sender had to be the cleric. But if it was Monk who had picked up Alex in the speeding SUV, who were in the two pursuing vehicles she had seen exiting the parking garage? The question was, who now held Alex? The good guys, or the bad guys? She decided to wait, and remain calm. After listening to the secret recording with Alex that night, she was uncertain if getting the police involved was the wisest move. Grateful that her father had once taught her how to drive a standard transmission, she maneuvered the Jeep toward home. Meghan left the vehicle on the street where Alex had previously parked, and went through the routine of ducking through the storefronts in an effort to keep her apartment from becoming a target.

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Calming the last of the jitters from her nervous body with a cup of tea, she petitioned the Great One, desperate for reassurance that Alex was indeed safe. After praying, Meghan considered the speed and decisiveness he had used to pull her out of harms way. It had been instinctual, she thought, and it caused her to long for him all the more. In a parked vehicle in front of the Italian restaurant below her apartment, two Agency spooks had nally tracked down their prey. Yeah, Militello? We found out where AP3 has been disappearing to. Hes got himself a ne-looking babe on the other side of town. What do you want us to do about it? Sit tight. Just sit tight. ***** I thought we had an understanding that the phone was never to be turned off, said Monk rmly, after Alex had been ushered into the large study. Nicodemus was there, and he did not look well. His skin was the grey color of death, and sweat was beading up on his forehead. There was no cheerful, crackling blaze in the replace tonight. Alex grappled at his pockets madly searching for the device in vain. That was my fault Monk, I unthinkingly shut it off when I went into the movie theater. Watching the pastors futile attempt at locating the phone, Monks long fuse became shorter. Did you lose it, Alexander? No! It was right here in my pocket. I dont go anywhere without that phone; I even sleep with it for crying out loud. Suddenly, it dawned on him, and he made the unfortunate decision to think out loud: I must have given it to Meghan. Meghan?! The intensity in the mild-mannered clerics voice increased ten-fold. You may not know it, but we are at the eleventh hour here, Alex! This isnt a game! Right now, its a matter of life or death, and now youre telling me you went to the movies and lent some girl your cell phone? It was turned back on almost an hour ago. If she uses it, Alex, our entire operation here may be jeopardized! Though he was overstating the threat, Monk was furious, and wanted to make a point. At the accusation, Alex also felt his temper beginning to are. Listen! I just spent the entire morning with you, and you never once mentioned needing to see me this afternoon. So cut me some slack! As for Meghan, I accidentally gave her the phone when I was trying to give her the keys to my car when your merry band of monks nearly ran us down! Monks manner began to soften. Thats understandable, Alexander. Please accept my apologies for projecting my angst upon you. We had to pick you up in the manner that

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we did because you were being watched, and we knew we would need a head start to get away. Things have suddenly become very precarious. I am worried for our friend Nicodemus here, who needs to share the rest of his story with you, while keeping enough strength to face some very bad men tomorrow. The Agency goons are all over us, and all over you, and were ghting hard to keep some assets like Anthony Coleman from being discovered. You must understand that I see the whole picture. I know what must happen before we are done here, and right now, everything is pressing in. But thats not your fault. You say you gave your keys to this Meghan girl to drive herself home? Alex nodded. That means shes now in danger. Theyll follow your vehicle, and may try to question her. How close are the two of you. Close enough. The young pastor inched inwardly, anticipating Monks follow-up question. Does she know anything about your relationship with me or Nicodemus? Alex swallowed hard, and decided to bite the bullet. I trust her. She knows everything. Everything?! Nicodemus roared. You bleating numbskull! Did we not have an agreement that everything we talked about was to remain condential? I told you he wasnt the right one! he yelled in the direction of Monk. Of all the people the Great One could have chosen, he had to choose this bleating piss-ant! During Nicodemus outburst, Monk became strangely quiet. He turned his back on both men, and walked slowly toward a massive book case, hanging his head in somber deliberation. After a moment of peace where it seemed that nobody wanted to talk, Monk broke the silence. Is this girl the marrying type? Alex was startled by the odd question, and hesitated in his response. I... I think so. Alexander! exclaimed Monk, impatiently. Either she is or she isnt. I will rephrase it another way so that you can better understand the options available to you. In order for you to fulll your commitment to us, you must now do one to two things: never see this girl, ever again; or marry her.

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Thats crazy! Alex shouted, feeling hot-under-the-collar once again. What about the third option where I say, Ive had enough of this, and all I want is my life to go back to the way that it was? Monk stared at Alex disbelievingly, and Nicodemus turned away muttering, I told you so... Useless piss-ant! You have a free will Alex, the cleric spoke in a low voice. Youve gone beyond the point of return, however. Your life will never be the same, no matter how badly you want to go back. Let me explain something to you, son. The Hebrews were held in bondage by the Egyptians for hundreds of years. Moses brought them out of slavery to a life of freedom. He took them to the land the Great One had prepared, and told them: Yahweh says we are to occupy this land and make it our own! But the Hebrews were afraid, because giants lived in the land. You see, in their fear, the Hebrews had a crisis of faith. Should they trust their human fear, based on what they witnessed with their eyes? Or should they trust the Ancient Words, spoken from the mouth of the Great One? The Hebrews trusted their human fear, longing to return back to Egypt where they had once been enslaved, rather than throwing caution to the wind, and placing their trust implicitly in the Great One. As a pastor, you know better than most what happened next. Alex sighed in distress. They wandered in the desert for forty years. Precisely! You have been given an opportunity leave your life of slavery. Dont give into the cries of your esh simply because they crave the false comforts of your past. Dont turn back now. If you abandon us, you will be choosing a life of wandering. You committed to us, and part of that commitment involved condentiality. By breaking condentiality, you unwittingly breached our circle of trust. Therefore, you need to reject her allowing her to fend for herself to eliminate her as an object of concern for the greater group, or well all need to embrace her as one of our own, welcoming her into our family. Nicodemus rolled his eyes, and shook his head from side to side, unable to believe what he was hearing. But marriage?! Alex stammered. Why marriage? I assume the nature of your relationship is romantic? Monk asked. Sort of, Alex said noncommittally.

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Then you must either let her go, or marry her. This nonsense about being in love is enlightened drivel promoted by the Illumined Ones. In a marriage, commitment comes rst, not the feelings of love. That is why a marriage ceremony happens in the presence of the Great One. When you became rebirthed into the Ancient Ways, you made a commitment to the Messiahs cause. When you agreed to meet with Nicodemus, you made a commitment to our cause, which also happened to be the Messiahs cause. The Great One doesnt care about your precious feelings. He just wants to know if you can be counted on for the long haul. And that, is what a marriage is supposed to be; two people who know that they can count on each other for the long haul.
CAUTION TO THE WIND!

Alex heard the whisper in the core of his being, and responded: Ill marry her... if shell have me. As he said it, he felt very much like he had just jumped from a very tall cliff without knowing what lay below. With that, Monk sent a quick text, and asked Alex for directions to Meghans apartment. What are you going to do next? Alex wondered. We need to bring her here. If she agrees to marry you, the two of you will become one person. Because of this, we now must put a plan in motion to keep your other half safe and sound, Monk grinned. This is crazy! screamed Nicodemus, pulling at his thinning hair. Theres no time for this! Who in their right mind could have ever come up with this insane chain of events! The Great One spoke to me, Monk spoke quietly in Nicodemus direction. He said that it was meant to be. At this, the old man grumbled, muttering sarcastically under his breath. Well who the hell can argue with that?! ***** Meghan was startled by the phone when it began to vibrate loudly on the kitchen table. She sprang to answer it, and was disheartened to nd no one on the line. But to her relief there was a text message. Her prayers had been answered. Alex w/ us. Need u here.

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Take rest of week off. Overnight bag. Take alley behind Carmellos 1 block south. Will p/u at 7PM. Careful. Watchers around. -M Her heart raced as she gathered the items she would need, making a small pile near the door, while leaving a message with the bank manager. It was about time those personal days were put to good use. She wondered if her banking days were nally drawing to a close. It was a premonition that lifted her spirits. If there were watchers, she must make them believe that she was settling in for the night. Turning on the TV, she angled it toward the front windows of the apartment, hoping the movement on the bright screen would lull any observers into complacency. Finally, she added Alexanders laptop computer to the pile. No doubt, he would be needing it.

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Chapter 37 I
t was a dive, even by motel restaurant standards: the food was worse than average; the place was in need of a serious scrubbing; and the building shook as trucks rumbled over expansion joints on the nearby expressway. Jack Grimsby didnt care. In the distant past, he had called this same run-down motorinn home for two months when he and Wanda had been going through a rough patch. But that was ancient history now; well before the kids had been born. He nibbled on a french fry, and swilled from the long neck of his fourth beer, trying to trace back where things had gone wrong. Somehow, they must have found out that he was wearing a wire at the ISP, and were now sending him their dont screw with us message, loud and clear. Had he simply heeded Charlie Stanbridges advice to tender his resignation, he wouldnt be in this awful mess. But unlike the Senator, he was not someone who willfully bent over, to take it up the rear. The Agency used to be lled with men of principle like him. Hell, the country used to be lled with such men. Not any more. They were fewer and further in between. Something wicked was looming. He could feel it. He ordered another beer food this bad had to be washed down mulling-over what Wanda and the boys were now up to. He hoped that she had the decency to tell his sons that he had been called back into work. Tomorrow, he would swing by and take them to a play-structure at the park; just as soon as he resigned. As the evening wore-on, his thirst for alcohol dulled his thirst for blood, as he came to the foggy realization that whoever had snapped the photos at the library must have had the full support of the Agency. Only one group of people had the talent and the equipment to edit photos to that level of quality. Had he been Wanda, he too would have been fooled by the ruse; it was that good. If the damned politicians didnt care that the Agency was corrupt, and if the damned country who elected the politicians didnt care, why should he break a sweat over it. They could all go to hell. He had his family to worry about. A sudden movement caught his attention to his right, as the barstool next to him was jarred noisily. Turning awkwardly toward the direction of the commotion, he failed to register the sound of a pill dropping into the beer bottle in his left hand. Well, well! said a familiar voice. Wanda mentioned I might nd you down here.

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What do you want Militello? asked Grimsby, glaring into the pockmarked face of his senior agent. Havent you already done enough for one day? You stay away from my family, you got that?! Have another slug Jack. Drink up old buddy! Things will only get better from here, the second-in-command smiled wickely. I want you to resign, Jack. If you do, Ill march right back up to your home and tell Wanda those photos were a little practical joke from some asshole at the Agency with too much time on his hands. Ill take full responsibility, and tell her that I put the offender on paid leave. I ofcially resign, he offered, tipping the bottle back while reaching into his jacket pocket for his badge. He slapped it on the bar dramatically. There. Take it. Ill be in tomorrow to type up a formal letter and to grab my things. As the temporary leader of the Dark Unit, I will present your resignation to the Director. Too bad this couldnt have waited another month or so. You could have been resigning in person to the new Director. Really? Grimsby slurred, wondering about the sudden thickness of his speech. Why is that? Because the new director is going to be The Duke. Rolling his eyes, Jack snorted in disgust, and uttered, The Duke being made Director says it all, doesnt it? I hope you all rot in hell, you corrupt bastards. Oh we will! the agent laughed, waving off the bartender who was about to offer him a drink. Without a doubt we will! Kevin Militello suddenly became serious and placed a piece of paper and a pen both emblazoned with the motels logo on the counter, pushing it toward Grimsby, with a gloved hand. Were going to need a little insurance policy from you, Jack. Right now, you cant be trusted to keep your big yap shut. So Im going to need you to write me a letter that I can hold onto, just in case you decide to be a fool, and go public. Speaking of which, Ill also need that recording you made today at the ISP. Its in the back of my car, under the spare tire, he revealed to his own surprise, now what do you want me to write? Take down the exact words I say, Militello spoke as though he were talking to a ve year old. Understand? Grimsby made a ham-sted attempt to grasp the pen, surprised at his lack of coordination. Go ahead.

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Dear Wanda and my precious little boys, the agent dictated. I am sorry that I let you down. I promise that from this day forward I will remain faithful to our family. I love you all so much, my heart aches. Jack. After signing his name, Grimsby slid the paper back toward Militello. Is that all? Cause if were done here, I think I need to go to bed. Im feeling a little sick. Thats all Jack. Just let it be known that I have more explicit pictures on le that will accompany this letter should you open your big fat mouth. Yeah... okay... he agreed queasily, beginning to stumble out of the restaurant. Let me grab you there, buddy, offered Militello on the heels of the teetering agent, hoisting a large arm over his shoulders to better support the substantial girth. Coming through, he announced, as other patrons waiting to be seated moved out of the way. My good friend here has had one too many! Out on the sidewalk, Militello shed a hand into the agents pocket to retrieve an antiquated motel key connected to a plastic tag. Cummon big boy. Lets get you to bed, he said pleasantly, struggling with the near dead weight. After dragging Grimsby for ve minutes, an exhausted Militello opped the unconscious mound onto the bed, removing his jacket and shoes. The agent then neatly placed the letter that Jack had composed, on the motel desk. From his own trench-coat pocket, the senior agent unfolded two clear garbage bags. He ripped a hole in the base and the side of one bag, and stuck his head through it, extending his arm through the other, over which he unraveled the second plastic bag. Gently removing Grimsbys sidearm from the holster with his free gloved-hand, he double-checked the load, turned off the safety, pushed the gun into the agents large paw, and lifted the muzzle to the Jacks head, until it was at a right angle with the temple. With his hand, arm, and torso safely covered by the plastic bags, he waited, staring down at the passed-out man. His eyes traced around the features of the relaxed face, registering their lines of kindness with all the disgust of an irritate child whose mother had just ironed dorky creases into the front his jeans. Suddenly, the heavy-set agents eyes opened almost mechanically and stared eerily into his murderers cold, dark orbs. Tell Wanda and the boys... he whispered with surreal calm, tell Wanda and the boys that I said good luck. Militello remained unfazed. He knew what the drug he had administered could do. With his gloved ngers, he shut the lids, holding them in place, like he had done numerous times in the past. It was strange, how some were talkers right up to their last breath. Eventually, the eyes and mouth would stay closed; forever.

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Patience came easily to him, and he continued to be in no mood to rush. Emotionlessly, he waited in the darkening room, listening for the rumble of the tractor trailers pounding their heavy loads over the expansion joints of the nearby expressway, trying to establish a rhythm. Front tires... back tires. Front tires... back tires. Front tires... BANG!

Duke. Kevin here. Yeah, that thing you wanted... Its done. ...Two more? Seems Ive been put on mop-up duty. By the way, theres no evidence that the girl knows anything, and shes a real beauty. Why dont I just knock off AP3, and send the girl to the Brothers up in NYC. Theyll put her to good use, and itll put an extra ten-grand in my pocket... Naw, shes a brunette. Theyll only cough up twenty-large for natural blondes... Yeah, okay. Ill get right on it. ***** The calm ve had just nished the supper dishes and were sitting in the leather sectional in the living room with the somber mood of lambs who were about to be slaughtered. The at screen television mounted on the wall remained off. It would only remind them what free people could do. Soon after Madame Chantalle had left, another woman had arrived, loaded down with large, rectangular, cosmetics bags. For the next four hours, the girls were given haircuts, manicures and pedicures. They were exfoliated, tweezed, and waxed in uncomfortable places. The woman, while plenty skilled and pleasant enough, was a chain-smoking automaton who could have been grooming animals for all she cared. She spoke only when she wanted to give instructions, and refused to make eye-contact. When the cosmetician nally departed, the girls spent some time in the large bathroom mirror appraising the work that had been done. The group took-in their reection with with mixed feelings: they were both awed by their beauty, and terried. They shared an unspoken understanding that they had been glamorized for one reason. The only questions that remained were when, and by whom? The guard rarely made an appearance in the residence any longer, and several of the girls began to speculate whether or not he was even at his post in the hall. Earlier in the day, before Madame Chantalle had arrived, one of the girls had tried working on the locks with bobby-pins, but to no avail. Opportunities for escape were becoming slimmer with each passing minute.

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Felicity nally broke the silence. Girls, weve been praying to be rescued, and time is no longer on our side. We must be vigilant to use every means possible to escape. Dont take anything for granted. The guard has become lazy, and he expects us to remain passive. We must continue to appear weak and defenseless, but in our minds we must be looking for opportunities to overpower him. No matter what happens now, we must stick together and use the brains God gave us. We can only be victims if we allow ourselves be victims. From now on, we must have our fear oriented in the right direction. Elsie, would you run and get the book Ive been hiding in my room? The young girl smiled, knowing what was coming next. Felicity had given her this same talk yesterday, and for her, it had made all the difference. Weve been told all of our lives that fear is a bad thing, the leader of the ve continued. I think thats a lie. What I am about to read to you shows that there is both good fear, and bad fear. What do you mean? one of the girls asked. Are you telling me that I shouldnt be afraid right now? Im about to be given-over to some pervert who is going to use my body, and I shouldnt be afraid? I dont think so! What youre describing is bad fear, Felicity explained. We cant have this type of fear if we ever expect to survive what is coming next. Think of it this way. The thing we fear the most, is the thing that is most important to us. So tell me, what are some of the things you are most afraid of right now? Being raped, and then murdered, said one. Never seeing my parents again, shared another. No longer being able to be free to do what I want, ever again, commented the last. Felicity took the leather-bound book from Elsies hand saying, The Messiah weve been praying to, says were not to be afraid of these things. When were afraid of being raped and murdered, we are afraid of death. When were afraid of not seeing our loved ones again, were afraid of being lonely. When were afraid of being slaves, we afraid of losing our own self-comfort. The things we fear the most have been made the most important things in our lives. Thats why it makes so much sense to worship the Creator. He says if we fear him, that no other fears can touch us. As she ipped through the pages of the book, Felicity said: King Solomon, the wisest man to ever live, once wrote:

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The fear of the LORD is discipline leading to wisdom, and humility comes before honor.

To which the Messiah added:

Don't be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Instead, fear the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Aren't two sparrows sold for a penny? Not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's permission. Every hair on your head has been counted. Don't be afraid! You are worth more than many sparrows. So I will acknowledge in front of my Father in heaven that person who acknowledges me in front of others. But I will tell my Father in heaven that I don't know the person who tells others that he doesn't know me. Don't think that I came to bring peace to earth. I didn't come to bring peace but conict. I came to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. A person's enemies will be the members of his own family. The person who loves his father or mother more than me does not deserve to be my disciple. The person who loves a son or daughter more than me does not deserve to be my disciple. Whoever doesn't take up his cross and follow me doesn't deserve to be my disciple. The person who tries to preserve his life will lose it, but the person who loses his life for me will preserve it.

You see, the Creator simply wants us to trust him, explained Felicity. Sounds kind of egomaniacal and domineering to me, scoffed one of the girls. Who wants to trust someone who will destroy my soul in hell? I thought that Jesus was all about peace and love. He is, Felicity assured. But in order to rescue us, he rst has to separate us out of the worlds system. Sometimes that separation process can get a little messy; and in this messiness, we cant be running around, trying to control things. We simply must lose our life by letting go, giving the Messiah the room he needs to be our defender. I like the part about the sparrows, commented another girl. But the whole turning a daughter against her mother part, and trying to make me quake in my boots in fear of hells destruction is just plain mean. But you dont understand! Elsie interjected. He doesnt want to destroy us. Its just the consequence of what will happen if we remain too proud to make him our defender. He tells us not to be afraid because he cares for us so much that hes counted every hair on our head! Felicity explained it to me this way. The Creator doesnt need us; he wants us. But he wont beg for us to join his cause! Rather, he wants us recognize that in our broken down state, we need him to defend us, and to heal us.

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Think of it as teams. One team is proud of who theyve become here on earth and are satised with that. They want nothing more. The other team may be lled with selfproclaimed mists and losers, but they recognize that they are desperately in need of help. The only way to switch over from the earthly team to the heavenly team is by being humble. The Creator wants us to be honest for a change, exposing the real dirtiness we keep hidden on the inside of us. Thats why the Messiah wants us to acknowledge him before other people; because it shows that were no longer proud pretenders, nding our value in the praises of those who look up to us in the world. It says that in our sincere humility, we will put our trust in the Messiah to defend us, and in his message to guide us. And what message is that? Repent or youll burn in hell? questioned another cynically. No! Elsie lifted her voice in frustration. He just wants us to become humble. He wants us to be innocent again. He wants us to be like little children, never doubting his good heart toward us. These were more words than anyone had ever witnessed Elsie speak, including Felicity. But her impassioned pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. Praying to be rescued out of their prison was one thing. But the jury was still out on whether a supernatural being could be trusted with ones life. Later that night, as Elsie lay with her head on Felicitys stomach, she wondered out loud: Why didnt they believe? Did I say something wrong? Dont doubt yourself, Felicity reassured as she stared at the ceiling. You shared your heart with a genuine love for the others. Sometimes people dont have ears to hear because of the trauma theyve experienced in the past. People get beaten down so many times, that instead of becoming softer and more humble, they harden themselves, just to get through life. Hard-hearted people have become so used to being their own provider and defender, that they no longer want to let go of the reins, allowing someone stronger to fend for them. So dont doubt yourself. You have a beautiful heart, comforted Felicity with maternal tenderness, running her ngers through Elsies hair. The older girl resolved to continue being a source of strength for this fragile little soul. But beneath all of her calming words, she was quaking, trying her best to remain true to her convictions, hoping to keep the suffocating fear at bay. What would become of them? Was it hopeless?

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Chapter 38 N
icodemus was feeling bitter and agitated. Not only had the bad dream been offputting, but the rawness of his mental-emotional state was now compounded by Alex, who seemed to be incapable of following instructions. For someone with the industrialists management experience, the pastors ighty behavior was infuriating. And now the men in brown were en route to add another person into the mix. A girl! And this foolish talk about marriage? There was no time for all of this silly dilly-dallying about! What in Gods name was Monk thinking? Lets get this done, the ailing Brit grumbled at Alex, who sat opposite of him at the table, pen and paper in hand. It was just the two of them, as Monk was in the other room, coordinating Meghans retrieval. Im going to get right to the point because I may not return from New York alive, he said, making it sound as though his martyrdom was imminent. Alex nodded in the direction of the grouch, unwilling to risk saying the wrong thing. By now, you know that my real name is George Talbott, but I would prefer that you continued to call me Nicodemus. Using our new names helps keep our old lives from catching up with us. Now write this down! he barked suddenly, as if a re had somehow ignited in his belly. The world is about to enter a conict that has been thousands of years in the making. I know this, because I contributed to the war plan. Modern Christendom has nally succumbed to our destructive efforts, so much so, that we are now at our battle stations, ready to launch. We? Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. My old self, Nicodemus claried with impatience. You dont always have to be so thick in the skull Alexander. You know as well as I, that Ive been rebirthed into the Ancient Ways. I am a new man now. So stop being so damned suspicious! Fair enough, remarked Alex, doodling on the notepad. Forgive me, and please do continue. The old man looked toward the ceiling with visible annoyance, as if trying to remember where hed left off. After a half-minute of silence, he continued.

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The battle is strictly spiritual in nature, but will be made manifest through terror and fear like the world has never seen. The origin of humankinds involvement in this conict took place in the Garden of Eden. According to the traditional view of this event, humans were charged by Yahweh to be the rulers over the earth. But Lucifer tricked them into giving this authority over to him, in exchange for god-like wisdom. According to this outlook, humans lost their innocence, and consequently, were no longer able to commune with the Great One. But the occult looks at the events in the Garden from a completely different perspective. They say that Lucifer actually came to save humankind from Yahweh, because he was a nasty god who wanted to keep them blind and ignorant. Therefore, telling humans to eat the fruit from the tree was not temptation, but rather, an enlightenment experience; opening humankinds eyes to all wisdom. These two different outlooks are the basis for the two different systems which are each striving for the souls of humankind. One system, established in Babylon, nds its source of strength in pride. The other system, established in Nazareth, nds its source of strength in humility. The tension between these two systems was further aggravated when ancient Jerusalem was destroyed, and the Hebrews were exiled to Babylon. It was during this time that several Jewish rabbis learned the mysteries of the foreign gods. To their great intrigue, they discovered that there was not only one God Yahweh, the Great One but an entire hierarchy of gods, who could be channeled to release secret wisdom and power. This secret knowledge was so powerful, that the rabbis had to remain underground, for fear that worshipers of Yahweh would destroy them. These gods even when questioned to this day are very straightforward. They work for Lucifer the light-bearer, and are committed to the cause of introducing a New World Order that will enlighten the entire world. But in order to accomplish this, every inuence of Yahweh the evil god who wanted to keep humankind in ignorance had to be wiped out. For he has always been a stumbling block for the workers of illumination. Alex raised a hand, stopping Nicodemus midstream. Youre telling me that the teaching of evolution and the elimination of prayer in pubic schools, the removal of the Ten Commandments from courthouses, and the outlawing of Christmas scenes on public property is all a part of a concerted effort to remove Yahweh? Of course! conrmed Nicodemus grufy. Weve been busily replacing the moral absolutes found in the Ten Commandments with moral relativism. Weve convinced the world there is nothing unique about human beings; we are simply evolved animals. Weve denigrated the sanctity of life. Weve compromised most of the inuential leaders of the world, including religious gures. And most of all, weve convinced the slobbering

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masses to look toward the Illumined Ones for answers, rather than to Yahweh and His Ancient Ways. Darwins survival of the ttest was one of our greatest coups. By getting the world to buy into this concept, we legitimized our claim that the ignorant masses were insignicant beings; much like a herd of cattle, in need of slaughter. In a twist of irony, the enlightened families who determine the affairs of the world physically struggle to survive because they are inbred and consequently have weak genetics! This is why our charitable foundations fund so much genetic research. We funded Nazi Germanys eugenics programs for many years. In fact, though the Second World War was developed toward an alternative end, it was we who introduced Hitler to the occult sciences which inuenced him to wage his war against the Jews. Doesnt anyone think it is odd that Hitler a man of limited intelligence set out to create a New World Order, that was to be run by a master race? These werent his ideas. Prior to our shaping him, he was nothing more than a semitic, homosexual criminal. But we introduced him to our sorcerers, who put him in touch with the Babylonian gods. After hearing from several exalted masters claiming to be from Tibet, he spent a small fortune sending expeditions to the Himalayas, in search of the clean bloodlines required for his Aryan race; a race even more enlightened than the inhabitants of the mythical Atlantis. But Hitler was only a pawn in the larger plan, and his regime served as a testing ground for the modern New World Order, which is now about to be unleashed through the foolish pride of humanity. Nothing less than foolish pride could cause enlightened humans to seek out the guidance of supernatural exalted masters. This pride blinds the Illumined Ones into believing they can manipulate the gods to do what they want, when in reality, it is the gods who are manipulating humankind to bring hell to earth. What I am trying to explain to you here is simply this. Where the Great One desires for every human soul to live in freedom, the Illumined Ones simply reect the outlook of the Babylonian gods: humanity is a cesspool of ignorance, which needs to be guided by those who know better. It is the pride of enlightened humans which has them blindly presuming that they control the destiny of humankind, when truly, it is the exalted masters who are really calling all the shots. Anyone willing to do a cursory study of the Ancient Words, occult teachings, and world history would conclude that what I am saying is true. Youre evil bastards, arent you? commented Alex, looking up from his notes. I once was, Nicodemus let the antagonistic comment slide. But by the grace of the Great One Yahweh I have been made free. The strong power of the Messiahs guilt

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offering has wiped my slate clean of all former treachery. It would be nice if you could get past your religious brainwashing to see me as the man I am now, rather than the beast I was before. Alex remained stubbornly unmoved by the suggestion, sitting rigidly with pen in hand, ready to continue recording the sordid tale. Nicodemus shrugged at the young pastors lack of mercy. There was no use getting into a pissing contest with this piss-ant. Eventually he would get it. Continuing, he explained: What most people fail to realize is that the Illumined Ones were also extremely active during the time of Jesus. When he spoke, they became riled by fear that he would reveal them for who they truly were. The old man opened a newish-looking leather volume to a page he had previously bookmarked. Words such as these always sent the Enlightened Ones scurrying like cockroaches.
Jesus told them, "If God were your Father, you would love me. After all, I'm here, and I came from God. I didn't come on my own. Instead, God sent me. Why don't you understand the language I use? Is it because you can't understand the words I use? You come from your father, the devil, and you desire to do what your father wants you to do. The devil was a murderer from the beginning. He has never been truthful. He doesn't know what the truth is. Whenever he tells a lie, he's doing what comes naturally to him. He's a liar and the father of lies. So you don't believe me because I tell the truth.

The Messiah spoke the truth, and that is why he had to be put to death. The Messiahs truth was so damning, that we had to confuse his message by incorporating him into our occult mythology as an example of a man who was so enlightened that he rose up to become a god. All New Age mystery religions now advocate the need for people to raise their christ-consciousness to become enlightened to the point where, they too, can become resurrected into a god. But deep down we still secretly celebrate the day we killed Yahweh, the evil one who had held humanity captive to ignorance. You see Alexander, there has always been a vast difference between enlightened knowledge and truth. For years, I took great pride in all of the mysteries that had been revealed to me. I became puffed-up to the point where I no longer cared for anyone but myself. I became xated on unveiling the next secret, and how I could harness its spiritual power to push the world toward its nal destiny. But, pursuing enlightenment comes at a steep cost.

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Unlike Yahweh, who is the author of truth and the creator of all life, Babylonian gods are quarreling masochists, constantly requiring the extraction of life from human beings. They ceaselessly cry out for blood, and are always bent on destruction. Because of this, there is a constant demand for human pain and suffering, along with bodily uids which contain life potential. When human life potential is ritually spilled onto the earth, deep spiritual magic is created. Alex shuddered, as he wrote the words. He had studied various rituals of the occult and the Illuminati in the past, but this was becoming creepy. The old man carried on, wistfully staring toward the ceiling, his hands forming a steeple in front of his mouth. Every spiritual force including Yahweh has always required a blood sacrice. But western society has become so proud of the achievements of its secular humanism even though it is merely an illusion we invented that they no longer recognize the spiritual realities of this world. Therefore, our proud herd of cattle continue to do exactly as we suggest because they rely upon the Illumined Ones to determine their future; rather than spending the effort to learn from the past. The past shows us that Yahweh, guided the rst man, Adam, and his son Abel, to use the blood of animals to atone for guilt; until the time when the Messiah would give up his human blood for all. Please note that the occult deities which the Illumined Ones worship are a different breed. Unlike Yahweh, they require a constant stream of human blood to remain appeased. My foundation funded abortion clinics under the guise of ridding the world of unwanted pregnancies. In truth, however, we were in desperate need of a steady stream of human blood to appease the gods. Alex looked up, appraising the older man with a condemning look of disgust. Nicodemus didnt miss a beat. This young whippersnappers time had come. The gods not only required human blood. They cried out for the life potential in seminal uid as well. Because of this, we developed the pornography industry with three things in mind. At this nal comment, the young pastor froze, unwilling to look in Nicodemus direction. The old man smiled. He had the judgmental piss-ants attention now. Men are directly accountable to The Great One for their actions. Therefore, when we tempted them into ogling the sweet, desirable esh of rm, young women, we made them guilty in Yahwehs sight. The nature of any sin is that it pushes humans away from The Great One, while diminishing a persons willingness to stand up against evil in society. Therefore, our rst goal through pornography was to morally compromise the leaders and protectors of the family unit.

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Our second goal was to eliminate the source of mans inner strength by making them impotent. Our psychological team realized a pattern when they inundated a person with sex. At rst, the patient would become manically needy for any method of sexual stimulation; visual or otherwise. But over time, that craving would drop off, to the point to where even explicit visual stimulation failed to create a response. Why do you think we had to invent a drug for erectile dysfunction? Men have become so inundated by sex, that they no longer have the ability to become naturally aroused. Thirdly, the gods require huge quantities of seminal uid and human pain. Pornography was our inventive way of spiritually raping vast quantities of women, over and over again, as men partake in virtual intercourse with their images. Though Alex continued taking notes, his heart was no longer in it. The more the old man spoke, the more he felt a numbness creeping over him. Nicodemus did not feel guilty about taking a little pleasure in the pastors discomfort. He had it coming. It was quite interesting how we made the discovery regarding this third point. We were discussing the problem of those damned demons that required constant feeding: abortion was taking care of the blood; but what could we do about the seminal uid? Then, one of us remembered a spiritual principle spoken of by the Messiah. He said something like, ...Whoever lusts after a woman has already committed adultery. We then coupled that principle with what we had observed from certain superstitious cultures who rejected all forms of photography because they believed that cameras had the ability to capture a piece of ones soul. So we funded a pervert to begin a porn empire, and the rest was history. The demons were fed; we turned men into eunuchs while raping their daughters; we eliminated the grave threat of men who might choose to stand up against evil; and we were one step further ahead toward our goal of population control. Sweat began to bead up on the pastors forehead. It didnt slow the old man down; not for a minute. The message found in the Ancient Words is that husbands should love their wives the way the Messiah loved the church and gave up his life for it. The Illumined Ones developed pornography to speak an offsetting message into the minds of men. The Ancient Ways spell out the principle of chivalry, where true love is best expressed by those who are willing to give up their lives for loves cause. Our Illumined message said the opposite: If you want it, go out and get it; even if it means that you must kill to obtain what you want. You see, every time the earths daughters are raped, we diminish the Messiahs act of self-sacrice on behalf of humanity. Our goal was to convince humankind that the Great

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One didnt care. For if he did, young women wouldnt be getting violated, over and over again. Pornography has ended up being a win-win: it degrades women, and makes millions of men impotent rapists, all at the same time. Now, knowing this, how many women have you raped? asked Nicodemus with an even tone. Its really easy to be religiously judgmental, but as you can see, you are in no position to be my judge. Alex was humbled and grieved. Staring silently at the table, he knew that if what Nicodemus had said was true, he was scum. Somehow, he mustered up the strength to speak the truth: Im guilty of raping thousands of women with my eyes, he said, pausing for a time; feeling the painful signicance of each word. But that is behind me now. I must trust that the grace offered by the Messiah is enough to wash away my past. Nicodemus held out a withered hand across the table, and Alex took hold of it. We are now family, the old man said warmly, his voice cracking with emotion. I forgive you for your judgments against me, and I confess that I have made judgments I against you. We will now, and forever more, be friends. ***** Mr. Duke. So glad you could join us. I hope we didnt interrupt you during supper hour, said Brother William. Not at all. The agent was looking particularly suave this evening in a newly purchased suit, similar to the ones he had admired around the table when meeting with the Council of Thirteen. A person of his importance should dress for success. He sat, chin lifted, one leg crossed over the other, looking condently at the brothers sitting opposite of him in the opulent penthouse ofce. His importance to the inner-workings of the Brotherhood was now undeniable. Good! Both Philip and I have listened to the recordings you have unearthed, that was some ne detective work. The Duke beamed. The grey haired man with the unconvincing comb-over went on: It is always bafing when anyone from our ranks chooses to revert back to a life of common ignorance. Frankly, it doesnt make sense. The benets of working for The Cause far outweigh the punitive measures that come from working against us. It is for this reason that we must nd out who this Monk character is.

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You will nd that the longer that you work with us, the more often you will run into anomalies such as this Monk fellow. Generally, they are closed-minded simpletons who must be helped along to extinction. We are moving out of the Christian Age into the Age of Aquarius. It is a momentous occasion, as the ignorance of the past is nally being replaced by the ideals of enlightenment. But there will always be those who think the old ways were better. These are troublemakers who once identied must be removed from society immediately. Did the Council of Thirteen tell him about the camps? interjected Philip. Both William and The Duke nodded. Yes, the agent knew all about the camps. The Head of Emergency Management had made it perfectly clear. When the time had come to execute the domestic shock and awe stage of the plan, there would rise up spewers of ignorant words, who would attempt to whip up the general population using patriotic slogans. These must be rounded up to be re-educated or exterminated in various camps, already constructed throughout the nations of the west. I do have one question on this point, however, remarked The Duke. Prior to the domestic shock and awe campaign, what should be done with these individuals? They need to be rubbed out, Philip smiled wickedly, swiveling his depressed thumb onto the massive desk. William made an effort at bringing some decorum back to the conversation. What Philip is trying to say, is that the souls of ignorant people are darkened by a negative embodiment. By prematurely terminating their lives, we are actually doing them a favor by granting them an early release to be reincarnated into their next embodiment. Hopefully, they will have learned from their past ignorance, and will begin proceeding along the path of enlightenment. The Duke looked puzzled. In the past, he had always advanced through the degrees of the Craft through rote memorization of the rituals, failing to grasp the spiritual connotations of the words he was reciting. The last couple of days had been a crash course on how the material world could be impacted through the manipulation of spiritual powers. It was not something he related to intuitively. And now, his mind was experiencing another logjam. Who, specically, would you classify as an ignorant person? he wondered, hoping he was not sounding like one himself. In the United States, they are typied by the bumpkins with gun-racks in their pickup trucks who listen to country music, William smirked. Actually, we dene an ignorant person, as anyone who refuses to change with the times. In America, this includes

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those who insist on taking the Bible literally, people who needlessly cling to JudeoChristian tradition, and a variety of fringe groups like Muslims and practicing Jews. As long as these groups have clout, we will have difculty introducing the Religion of Eternal Peace and Harmony. The goal is to take these bastions of ignorance, and smash them together, until they mutually destroy each other. Fortunately for us, enaming Jewish, Muslim, and Christian relations is not rocket science! As you learned in your debrieng earlier today, the Third Great War will take care of many of these ignorant masses. But until then, we must eliminate anyone who attempts to weaken the control of The Brotherhood. It is for their own good! William and I have discussed what is to be done with George Talbott, Philip interjected. He will be here tomorrow to resign from his various posts, and we are going to give the appearance that we are graciously letting him go. After that, we want you to execute the traitor according to the ritual you swore to when you rst joined the Craft. This is the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. When you kill him, be sure to harvest his energy before his soul transmigrates into another body. This bastard needs to pay for his betrayal by beginning his next life as an aborted fetus, or as a nigger baby with AIDS or something equally misfortunate. Take the good energy from him, and carry it to the ceremony on Friday night. Taking his life force just before the Rites will cause others to submit to you more readily. In this new position, you must always look for opportunities to improve your level of power. The Duke nodded his head afrmatively, even though he didnt have a clue how to harvest a dying mans energy. With all of this talk of ignorance, he couldnt bear to have the brothers think that he was not worthy of the Directorship over the Agency. What do you want to do about this Monk fellow? he inquired. We have another man working on that, explained Philip. You just worry about your task at hand. Youll need to nd an uninhabited beach at low tide. By Friday morning, we expect that George Talbott will be dead.

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Chapter 39 A
transformation had come over Nicodemus since Alex had confessed his sins. He had become warm and grandfatherly, with a sparkle of kindness in his eyes. Though most of the things he continued to share were horric, a gentleness and levity accompanied the old industrialist which somehow made the difcult topics more palatable. In the midst of this amicable setting, Alex wondered if he should reveal that he had secretly recorded their previous conversations. Coming clean had felt so good, why shouldnt he go all the way? After further deliberation, he decided against it. Why spoil things, now that they were nally on the right foot together? Alex continued to scrawl hasty notes as the industrialist spoke of the United Nations, explaining its culture of Luciferianism, where enlightened leaders squawked loudly in an effort to encroach on the affairs of ignorant sovereign nations in need of guidance. The same could be said for the World Court, the International Monetary Fund, and eleven other agencies that ever so gradually had been taking authority from the elected leadership of what had once been self-governing countries. The old man told of regional efforts to amalgamate smaller townships into larger regional cities under the guise of administrative cost-effectiveness. It didnt matter that time had proven this proposal to be an expensive boondoggle; power had been centralized, and that was all that mattered to the enlightened few who were worthy of leading the masses. The fact was, that cities were going to need more real estate after the Illuminati executed what was called a program of domestic shock and awe, events that would be on a grander scale than the tragedy of 9/11 as citizens would be encouraged to move to fortied urban centers for the sake of protection. This modern twist on the feudal times of old would grant hand-picked regional leaders greater control over compliant populations, allowing for roaming rebels to be picked off one-by-one in their rural environs. Nicodemus explained in great detail how the Illumined Ones had prepared the legal framework of a multitude of Executive Orders, stripping Americans of their Constitutional rights in times of emergency. Under the guise of continuity of government, homes and vehicles could be commandeered, farms seized, radio, television, and newspaper media taken over, the internet shut down, and so on. It was all neatly in place, ready to be enforced by the American military after domestic shock and awe was initiated. All of it, he said, was achieved through complex illusions. We channel vast amounts of funds into the entertainment industry. On the surface, we do this because music,

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television, and movies are excellent ways to indoctrinate the masses. But below the surface, the entertainment industry including sports is our method of distraction, to keep the average person from noticing our sleight-of-hand. An illusion can only succeed if the observers of the magic trick can be kept from realizing what is really going on. For instance, Nicodemus shed into his pocket, lets look at this dollar bill. Tell me Alexander, how much is it really worth? One dollar? offered Alex. It can purchase one dollars worth of goods because American society has been made to believe that it has that purchasing power. Still, one dollar can buy a whole lot less than when I was a young lad. This is because the dollar only has the value the Illumined Ones assign to it. Otherwise, this paper and these ink designs only amount to a few cents. Now tell me, to whom does this dollar belong? Alex played along. It belongs to whoever possesses it. Not true. Read on the bottom of that dollar. Now, to whom does it belong? It says here, Federal Reserve Note. So it must belong to the government of the United States. Wrong again! Nicodemus was pleased with himself. Those pieces of paper we call dollars belong to the Federal Reserve Bank; a bank whose name is simply part of the illusion. The Fed is a conglomeration of privately held banks throughout the United States that act as the nations central bank. Few realize that the Fed is but one part of an empire of international banks that are owned and controlled by Illuminati families. This explains why the Fed lent out trillions of dollars to foreign banks following the global crisis created by the derivatives scandal. American taxpayers were placed on the hook, to the benet of the foreign banks in their empire. You must understand that America has never been easy to rape. She always had too much ght in her. But the Illumined Ones are plundering her now, and when she breathes her last, the world will have no other choice but to welcome a New World Order. Nice! exclaimed Alex. These thieves are robbing us in plain sight? Where is the accountability? How many of our leaders are asleep at the switch? You must never forget that the Illumined Ones are masters of illusion. Take a look at the pyramid side of the Great Seal of the United States. The latin words essentially say, Announcing the Birth of a New Secular Order.

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Alex ipped over the dollar bill, pondering the symbolism. But Nicodemus returned him to his note-taking in a hurry, continuing to spill out facts, faster than the pastor could write. The New Order must remain secular because the Illumined Ones share a deep respect for spiritual power. If the herds of cattle can be made into secular materialists, they can be easily enslaved by those who have inuence with the gods. Allow me to demonstrate this. The old man opened his leather book, beginning a seemingly futile search through the pages. Finally, he said, Here it is! Listen to this:
The next day the Jewish rulers, leaders, and scribes met in Jerusalem. The chief priest Annas, Caiaphas, John, Alexander, and the rest of the chief priest's family were present. They made Peter and John stand in front of them and then asked, "By what power or in whose name did you do this?" Then Peter, because he was lled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, "Rulers and leaders of the people, today you are cross-examining us about the good we did for a crippled man. You want to know how he was made well. You and all the people of Israel must understand that this man stands in your presence with a healthy body because of the power of Jesus Christ from Nazareth. You crucied Jesus Christ, but God has brought him back to life. He is the stone that the builders rejected, the stone that has become the cornerstone. No one else can save us. Indeed, we can be saved only by the power of the one named Jesus and not by any other person." After they found out that Peter and John had no education or special training, they were surprised to see how boldly they spoke. They realized that these men had been with Jesus. When they saw the man who was healed standing with Peter and John, they couldn't say anything against the two apostles.

These Ancient Words are the antithesis of the pyramid you see on the dollar bill. How so? Alex scratched his head, wondering where the old man was leading. Nicodemus smiled. He so enjoyed revealing the secrets he had once guarded so closely. The chief cornerstone on a pyramid is the capstone, for it is where all of the corners meet. Anyone with an interest in archeology knows that the Great Pyramid in Egypt does not have a capstone. The Ancient Ways solve this mystery, by identifying the Messiah as the stone the builders rejected, because it was he who was intended from the beginning to be the chief cornerstone. However, youll notice that on the Great Seal of the United States, the capstone is the All Seeing Eye of the Illumined Ones.

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The message of the Seal is this: In the coming New Age of Enlightenment, we will witness the birth of a New Secular Order, where the Illumined Ones will be revered as the savior of humankind. Contrast this attitude of pride, with the humility expressed in the Ancient Words I just read. The Apostles Peter and John had just been thrown into jail for telling people about the Messiahs freedom. When questioned regarding how they had healed a crippled man, they took no credit for themselves, pointing toward Yahwehs son: the promised Messiah of all humanity. These men werent educated, yet a supernatural force was working through them. You must write this down! commanded Nicodemus, agitated with the pastors brief moment of inactivity. No illusion can withstand the undressing of humility! Do you now understand why enlightened people detest the Messiah? His humility reveals them for who they are! Here is another example of how the pride of illumined men contravenes the truths of the Ancient Ways! the old man spouted excitedly, happy to see Putnam III scrawling on the pad of paper like a madman. Just hold on a minute! Alex begged. Youre talking faster than I can write! It was too bad he wasnt making a secret audio recording of this session. It certainly would reduce the cramps he was now feeling in his hand. Bah! You just keep up! I need to keep speaking while I am feeling this good. But if I must, Nicodemus nally relented, I will give you a small break. You dont need to write this part down. Just listen to what I have to say. Just recently, several of my enlightened billionaire brothers made a big announcement that they were giving away much of their fortunes. Sounds very humanitarian and generous doesnt it? But like everything with the Illumined Ones, it is all an illusion. Listen to what the Messiah has to say about such forms of charity. Once again, Nicodemus opened his book, and turned to a page he had bookmarked previously. Alex was impressed with the old mans diligent preparation.
Be careful not to do your good works in public in order to attract attention. If you do, your Father in heaven will not reward you. So when you give to the poor, don't announce it with trumpet fanfare. This is what hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets in order to be praised by people. I can guarantee this truth: That will be their only reward. When you give to the poor, don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Give your contributions privately. Your Father sees what you do in private. He will reward you.

You see, the old man chuckled, the Messiah has once again undressed my brothers, revealing them for who they truly are. If they really cared about poor people with AIDS, why would they announce with great fanfare that they were giving away their money?

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Ill tell you why. Because giving away their fortune to the poor is an illusion to disguise their true motives; all while sending a message to the world that the Illumined Ones are worthy of guiding humanity. Who needs the Messiah, when we have Enlightened Brothers around? Its at-out diabolical. Alex protested. And we are only scratching the surface, said Nicodemus with a sigh. I have one last thing to share with you. It is by far the most wicked thing the Illumined Ones have ever attempted. Then we will be nished. Done for good? Perhaps I will share more if they let me live after my trip to New York. But I have a sense that with this nal point, we will be done. With Monks assistance, you will be able to write your book. ***** Startled by a loud noise, Wanda awoke. She had placed the two youngsters in her own bed, and had fallen asleep as the oldest recounted his exciting time playing with daddy in the leaves. Was it someone pounding on the front door? She looked at her watch. It was a little after 8PM. Could it be Jack? No doubt he had fallen off the wagon again, and had stumbled home from the motel without his keys. It brought back painful memories of an earlier time in their relationship. Easing down the stairs, she turned on a light and blinked, trying to get her bearings. Jack! The kids are asleep! Stop your pounding! she said quietly, but loud enough to be heard. Maam, please open up. Its DCPD. At the announcement, her heartbeat quickened. Was it Jack? Had he been in an accident? After the police had left, Wanda sat in a tearless state-of-shock on the couch. Her mother rushing over at the news now huddled closely beside her with a comforting hand on her back. Jack had left a note. Through the plastic baggie, she had been able to conrm that it was his handwriting to the investigators. The nal words were smudged with blood spatter. She had wept uncontrollably then, until she was cried-out. That same blood had been coursing through Jacks veins when

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she had last seen him alive almost ve hours earlier... and when he had made love with her a mere twenty-four hours ago. The cops were treating it as an open-and-shut case of suicide. She knew enough about police work to know that when she had shown them the pictures of his unfaithfulness and described the resulting interchange, their minds were made up. No, they did not need to take the pictures with them as evidence. Limited budgets and increasing crime both due to a nation in economic distress meant arriving at speedier conclusions. She doubted that the Agency would do any further investigation. As the initial sharp edge of the trauma began to dull, she considered how she would break the news to the boys. It would devastate them, of course. Though he was gone much of the time, Jack had always made them feel like they were the center of the universe when he was at home. Would they recover from the news that they would never see their daddy again? Would she recover? How could he have done something so selsh? Didnt he know how much they all relied upon him? Or had it been her fault? Had he been speaking the truth when he said he was being framed for whistle-blowing? Was this simply the way the corrupt Agency dealt with agents that wouldnt comply? But what of the note? Had he been under duress when he wrote it? Was she responsible for her husbands death? There were too many questions, and sleep would not come easily. She needed to go for a drive; do something to clear her head. Jack was gone! The father of her children was dead! She had harsh words with her mother as she collected the keys from the counter and headed out the door. She would be alright. Just watch the kids, and she would return in an hour. At rst, Wanda slowly meandered around the neighborhood, her mind a jumble of erratic thoughts. Would Jacks life insurance be valid in the case of suicide? How was their family going to survive? Would she have to go back to work? Suddenly she found herself at the entrance to the motel, and was just about to pull in, when she saw a tow truck pulling away Jacks company car. Maybe there would be some evidence of what had occurred remaining in it! Wanda knew she was not in her right mind. She was desperate for answers. Had she gotten her husband killed by insisting he leave their house? Mindlessly, she pursued the tow vehicle for close to an hour, until it pulled into a gated parking garage... at Jacks place of work? Yes, she recognized it now. She was at Agency Headquarters. Unable to pursue any further, she found a parking spot and made her way to the main entrance of the building, uncertain of what she would do next. Your ID maam! a burly, African American security guard demanded.

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Wanda fumbled in her purse for the pass Jack had once given her. He had said that it was just in case she wanted to surprise him with lunch some day; a request she had failed to fulll. It would be but one of a million regrets she would face in the days ahead. Do you have photo ID maam. This pass is expired. Yes, heres my drivers license, she complied. My husband is Jack Grimsby, hes been an agent here for years. The security guard softened. I knew Jack, maam. Im so very sorry for your loss. You know?! You know hes dead. But it just happened! Some agents just came through here maam. They were talking about your husbands suici... About your husbands death, maam. When you work the night shift like I do, you get to know the agents at a more personal level, maam. I knew your husband well, and I cant believe it. He was one of the good ones, maam. How can I help you tonight? I need to get some things from his ofce, she lied. Ive had a very hard night, and I just want some closure. His ofce is in a restricted part of the building, maam. Let me call another man to take my place and I will accompany you so you can get what you need. Will that be okay maam? the guard inquired tenderly. She nodded, and waited while the replacement arrived, grateful for an ofcial escort to Jacks ofce. She had been here only a few times before, and during each of those visits, Jack had led the way. The burly guard took her through multiple points of entry, requiring a card swipe to gain access. At times, he gently held her arm, perhaps sensing that she needed to be steadied. It was all a blur to her: the elevators; the hallways; the security cameras; the expressionless men in suits passing them in the hall. His ofce is right down here, maam, he guided her down the hallway, slowing at an open door. The lights were on, and three men were busily sorting les into boxes and ipping through books, only to replace them again onto the shelves. They were working quickly, oblivious of the newcomers. Everything okay here gents? asked the security guard casually. Yeah! the head of a startled agent came up. Everything is just ne. Militello has us doing a clean sweep of this ofce. Seems the fat man nally broke under pressure. He put a bullet into his own brain tonight.

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This is his widow, Mrs. Grimsby, the guard spoke quickly, hoping to cut short any further insensitivity. She just wanted to grab some things. Sorry for your loss, the agent said coldly. He was a tired looking man with a ve oclock shadow and a loosened necktie swaying below his neck. You really shouldnt be here, lady. Whadaya need? A picture or something? Wanda went to the desk, grabbing a silver frame surrounding a photo of the four of them at the beach. It had been her gift to Jack last Christmas. Thats all I wanted, she said quickly, sensing the increasing tension in the room. Thank you gentlemen. Wait! the agent demanded, ripping the picture from her hands. He ipped it over, removed the frame backing, and searched for what might be hidden beneath. Finding nothing, he carelessly reassembled the frame and thrust it in her direction, glaring at the security guard. You two shouldnt be here. For the record, I didnt see you. Now take your picture and go! On the way home, Wanda arrived at the conclusion that she had killed her husband. Why else would those hostile men have been riing through all of Jacks things, mere hours after his death. Would she be able to live with herself?

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Chapter 40 A
lexander Putnam III and Nicodemus were about to wrap things up when Monk burst into the book-lined study, with a look of concern on his face. Well, we got her! But just barely. She was waiting for us at the designated spot, but as we pulled over, a man grabbed her and was about to shove her into a waiting vehicle. What happened?! Alex was alarmed. Is she alright? Shes ne, Monk assured, perspiration beading across his forehead. The thug from the Agency is not. Our boys ended up tazing him. We were able to get away with Meghan; but only by the grace of the Great One. Our vehicle suffered considerable damage in the ensuing chase. These guys arent messing around. Nicodemus consternation was conspicuous. What the blazes?! Why are they so hellbent on abducting these two kids? Nobodys pounding down my door to bring me in. So why the interest? Alex is guilty by association with me, and Meghan can only be connected to Alex. Something doesnt add up. As the young pastor uttered a silent prayer of thanks, he heard the faint cry of a voice inside pleading for him to confess regarding the audio recordings on his laptop. As quickly as the impulse formed in his heart, his mind had created thirteen different justications as to why it would be a bad idea. After Anthony Coleman had discovered that his laptop computer had been compromised, Alex had decided to further research the effectiveness of the encryption software he had used. The manufacturer claimed that its code was equivalent to that used by the US Military. Armed with this information, he was convinced that even if the Agency hacks had retrieved the les, they would remain impossible to open. And if this was the case, why endure further scorn from the two men sitting across from him at the table? When will Meghan get here? Alex inquired, hoping it to be sooner than later. They should arrive in forty or fty minutes. Theyll need to change vehicles a few more times, just to remain on the safe side. Monk turned to address Nicodemus. In light of these recent developments, I think you should cancel your trip to New York. Tomorrow, well need to move out to the Virginia safe-house. For one reason or another, the heat has been turned up. Nicodemus shook his head slowly, objecting to the suggestion. Ill be damned if Ill retreat now, Monk!

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The cleric squeezed the trembling hand of the industrialist. You must remember old friend, the Ancient Ways instruct us to use care with our words. Damnation is not in your future. Since your rebirth, you have become a new creature; of this I will continue to remind you. Regarding pulling back for a time, I think it is the wise thing to do. Ill have all of the men ready to go at rst light. Leave my home? Now?! Im not doing it Monk. In fact, I refuse! the old man argued stubbornly. Tomorrow, I will go to New York, and if I make it back, I will return to this house to wait for the Creator to collect my weary soul. Really, Monk. The doctors gave me three months to live, six months ago. The fact that I have been able to get this far along in your convoluted plan has been a miracle! So no. Im not calling off the trip to New York, and Im not leaving this house! The brown-robed cleric shrugged his shoulders, knowing that to discuss the point further would be futile. I had intended on sending two of our men with you for support and protection; a driver and the doctor. They wont be able to join you now. By morning, all of us will be gone, including the cook. Please come with us. My mind is made up, uttered Nicodemus. Nothing you can say or do will change it. Ive been pushed around long enough! Fair enough. Ill call a car service for tomorrows trip, and will have the chef prepare additional meals for the freezer. Be assured, that each of us will be petitioning the Great One on your behalf for safety. Have you told Alexander everything he needs to know? Youll have to ll in the gaps for him, but I have given him all the important pieces of the puzzle. Right now, while I still have the strength, I am going to briey explain the DNA Project to him. Monk rose from the table and placed his two hands on the shoulders of the old man. Should you change your mind at any time and decide to come with us, Ill come and get you. Though going to New York may not be the wisest move, I want you to know how proud I am of you. Youre a brave man who has become unwilling to compromise. The Great One needs more men like you at times such as this. When you are through with Alexander, just say the word, and I will assist you to your bedroom. Youre going to need to get as much rest as possible. Upon his nal words of encouragement, Monk left the room quickly, his robe owing behind him. His men in brown would be working through most of the night, preparing for the move to the new site.

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Nicodemus limped to a side table and xed himself a drink. He didnt offer one to the pastor, who was quite content with the notion of sobriety, considering the whirlwind of activity at the mansion. As an Illumined One, you learn very quickly that any good thing the Great One has promised to his children can also be replicated. Moses had a staff given to him by God. When he threw it to the ground, it became a snake. Pharaohs sorcerers had no problem duplicating that trick. In like manner, we learned how to become adept counterfeiters ourselves, using magic to entrap the souls of humankind. However, just as Moses snake ended up eating the snakes of Pharaohs sorcerers, there remain severe limitations to our counterfeited goods. Look here what it says about the fruit that came from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, he said, taking a sip of his brandy while opening the leather book to a page near the front.
The woman saw that the tree had fruit that was good to eat, nice to look at, and desirable for making someone wise. So she took some of the fruit and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.

We get people addicted to our counterfeited goods by making all sorts of attractive promises on the frontside. Once we have them hooked, it no longer matters that we were never really capable of fullling those promises on the back end. Consider your compulsion toward pornography. We sold you a message that said, the beautiful girls will make themselves vulnerable by taking off their clothes just for you. They will become your personal girlfriends, existing only for you. The fact that they belonged to millions of other men, and had no real power to satisfy your emotional or physical needs was the back end of the deal that we withheld from you. The dirty secret behind all addiction is this: We make nice looking counterfeit products; we are excellent advertisers and sales people; we have spellbinding capabilities to place lies in the psyche of innocent victims; we are masters of mind-control; and we always fail to follow through with our promises, because quite honestly, we couldnt fulll them, even if we wanted to. You people have such charming ways, said Alex wrinkling his nose, as he looked up from his notes. Its made all the more endearing when explained with that proper British accent. These ways did not originate with me, or any human being, Alexander. They are the ways of the Light Bearer, who is incapable of closing any deal he makes. And this leads me to the nal point I wanted to discuss with you. Nicodemus paused, gathering his thoughts while sipping his drink. Inhaling deeply, he began. The Great One promises that anyone willing to express their genuine humility by calling out in desperation for the Messiahs help, will receive the full support of

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heaven. This simple act of faith initiates ones rebirth into the Ancient Ways, and provides the assurance that one day, we will be made eternally complete. When I think of this completion, I think of how it was in the Garden before humankind chose to eat the fruit of illumination. We were naked; entirely transparent before the Great One, yet without shame. We were innocent. Thats the reason the Messiah revealed this truth so clearly in the Ancient Words, he turned to the book before him, and read expressively, denoting his great wonder:
...Who is greatest in the kingdom of heaven? He called a little child and had him stand among them. Then he said to them, I can guarantee this truth: Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes like this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a child like this in my name welcomes me...

Concluding the passage, Nicodemus made an effort to collect his emotions, swallowing hard. You see, all the Great One wants, is for humankind to be returned to a place of innocence, the innocence of a child who is in awe of their Fathers love. The way of innocence is the exact opposite of the way of knowledge. Those who have been reborn into a life of innocence, will have the eternal peace that can only come from Yahwehs completion. Those who choose the path of enlightenment are condemned along with the proud Light Bearer: forever searching; forever scheming; forever harming others; in some maniacal attempt to uncover a selfmade, eternal peace. Thats a sad existence I can relate to, said Alex, running a hand through his hair. I was owned by my compulsions; driven by a desperate need for comfort. But my appetite was never satised. It was a hollow existence. Nicodemus, I cant believe that I havent seen it until now. The old man measured up the former pastor facing him with a wistful look in his eyes. Until we are reborn into the Ancient Ways, everything is hopeless. As one writer of the Ancient Words said, it is like chasing the wind. I chased the wind for decades with my Brothers, in a vain attempt to close the deal; to prove that the wind could actually be caught. This is why we put so much of our faith in science and technology. While there are many humanitarian side-benets to technology, it is undergirded by one goal: to catch the wind; to obtain the unobtainable. And this leads us to the nal thing that I must reveal to you. It is a plan that has been formulated through the instructions of the Light Bearer, himself. Have you personally met with him? Alex questioned, overcome by intrigue.

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Never! We Eyes were always scouts of sorts, seeking out people with skills whose talents could be used for The Cause, while developing the infrastructure needed to carry out our illumined goals; enabling cultural shifts. The Knights of the Brotherhood have their own high priests that they consult. The Light Bearer was channeled through one of these dark mystics, who wrote the down the cryptic instructions. Which were... Alex was sitting on the edge of his seat. Again, the answer is found in this book. Here, Ive bookmarked the spot, he said, nding his place near the beginning of the leather-bound volume.
The number of people increased all over the earth, and daughters were born to them. The sons of God saw that the daughters of other humans were beautiful. So they married any woman they chose. Then the LORD said, "My Spirit will not struggle with humans forever, because they are esh and blood. They will live 120 years." The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, as well as later, when the sons of God slept with the daughters of other humans and had children by them. These children were famous long ago. The LORD saw how evil humans had become on the earth. All day long their deepest thoughts were nothing but evil. The LORD was sorry that he had made humans on the earth, and he was heartbroken. So he said, "I will wipe off the face of the earth these humans that I created. I will wipe out not only humans, but also domestic animals, crawling animals, and birds. I'm sorry that I made them."

Everyone is familiar with the story of Noah; even the Illumined Ones. As much as we hate the Ancient Words, there are some among us who study it, hoping to reveal mysteries that can advance our Cause. Therefore, when the high priest came to us with a message from the Light Bearer, it was only a conrmation to what wed already been imagining. The Nephilim were the offspring of humans and fallen angels. Perhaps it was they who were the source for many of the stories found in Greek and Roman mythology. Who really knows? Regardless, it has always remained a matter of great intrigue for the Illumined Ones, as we realized the potential in such cross-breeding. Like Hitler, we have always dreamed of creating a superhuman; a father of a super-race, that would herald back to the ancient days of Atlantis. The best we were able to come up with in the last two-hundred years was the channelling of incubi and succubi to have sex with humans as they slept. What are those? Alex wondered. They were heading into foreign territory.

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The incubus is a male spiritual entity and the succubus is the female. Through these two demonic presences, we have attempted to scientically create offspring, and have met with persistent failure. However, technology has nally advanced to the point where the program has caught a breath of new life. In the near future, it may be possible to combine the DNA of humans and spirit beings, in an effort to recreate a Nephilim; a god-man, like in the days of old. Thats ridiculous! exclaimed Alex, instantly regretting the outburst. Based on the icy glare coming from Nicodemus direction, the old man was not kidding around. Im sorry, the pastor apologized. This is all just a little new to me. Please go ahead. Nicodemus continued, softening as he did. Those who are committed to The Cause of Illumination are driven by insatiable pride. They must advance onto the next thing. They must get the next hit. They must reveal the next mystery. They must ascend to the heavens to become as gods. It is insanity. The Light Bearers cryptic message recorded by the sorcerer went something like this: Man has a number, and it is 666. The code to this number, is unlocked by ones and zeros. Those you seek in the dark of night, carry the number of the gods. This number can be determined by ones and zeros, and can be unlocked by the code of man. And that means??? Alex interrupted. It means that the ultimate goal of messing with DNA, whether it be human, animal, or a plant, is to somehow improve on that which the Great One has already created. At this time in history, technology has freed us to enter a golden age in illumined philosophy. The human signature, identied by a chromosome in the shape of a double helix, is now being altered to create a chromosome with a triple helix. This can only be done by digitizing the human signature, in order to combine it, with the digital signature we capture from the angel. The goal here, is to create an entire race of god-men who will then rule the earth. Sound familiar? Smacks of Hitlers Aryan race, doesnt it? offered Alex. Nicodemus nodded in agreement, adding, But there is another thing that must not be overlooked. The Light Bearer and his enlightened minions are simply attempting to create the ultimate counterfeit: a being who can replace the Messiah God who became man, in order to deliver humankind out of the clutches of eternal death. Theyre just going about it in the reverse order: man who became a god, in order to enslave humankind. Why do you think so many Illumined Ones become cryogenically preserved after they die? the old man asked.

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What do you mean by that? the pastor, was once again struggling with the unfamiliar terminology. Cryogenic preservation is where physical bodies are frozen upon death, with the belief that some day, technology will be advanced enough to bring about resuscitation, explained Nicodemus. The DNA Project is just one example of this advanced technology. Its ironic that we have convinced the unwashed masses to believe in the Hindu folklore of reincarnation, when by our actions, we demonstrate that we have no condence in it. It is an intentional deceit that will have many of us coming up short, I am afraid. The Ancient Words pronounce: People die once, and after that, are judged. Therefore it really doesnt matter if we are buried in the ground, burnt to ash in a pyre, or remain frozen in a laboratory. Upon death, the soul is judged by the Messiah, and all hopes of becoming a gods ourselves are dashed. Essentially, this is why we invalidate the Ancient Words by saying they have been manipulated by evil men throughout the years. This is why we scorn the Ancient Ways by advancing the cause of relativism. This is why we proclaim reincarnation. This is why the DNA Project even exists! Each of us, must somehow, live another day to avoid the judgment seat of Yahweh and his Messiah. For to humble ourselves before him would be unconscionable. How far are you along in the process of developing this man-god creature? asked Alex, trying hard to conceal his skepticism. The decoding of the human genome is nearly complete. But because the technology to register and decode the energy created by the spirit entities is lagging, we have not yet succeeded in creating a functioning hybrid. But each day, new progress is being made. Human DNA is currently being mixed with that of plants and animals, and human cloning is well on its way. If the general public knew the sort of Frankenstein science projects the Illumined Ones foundations had been funding, there would be a revolution. I would not blame the Great One if he went back on his word and sent another ood to wipe the evil we have created from the earth. It is an evil generation who harvests unborn babies as a blood sacrice to appease demons, while using their tissue as the building blocks for a science experiment to create new gods. I am afraid the Great Ones patience with us is running out. Whatever do you mean? inquired Alex, who looked up from his notes, feeling queasy from the old mans graphic narrative.

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Time is running out. If people only knew how short the time was, they would be choosing to live their lives differently; telling Illumined Ones like me to go to hell. For that truly is what we deserve.

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Chapter 41 I
t was close to 9PM when Meghan who was badly shaken and the monks accompanying her, nally arrived at the mansion. After sharing her story and an emotional embrace with Alex, she was ofcially introduced to Nicodemus and Monk, who approved of her instantly. Nicodemus believed that if she accepted Alexanders proposal in marriage, he would be marrying up. The girl had breeding, characterized by her natural beauty, posture, and grace. But he was most drawn to her fearless condence, and the way her green eyes revealed the respect and pride she felt for the former pastor. Here was a woman to have beside you during good times and bad. Here was a woman who by her very presence made someone a better man! Monk knew that the hour was getting late for Nicodemus, so he cut to the chase. Meghan. Before we get any further along into the evening, Alex has something he wants to ask. Okay... she smiled hesitantly, wondering at the formality of it all. Wait! Nicodemus ordered. This cant go on. Not yet! he said, as he struggled to his feet, limping from the expansive library. The others stood there awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other, wondering what the industrialist was up to. Whats going on, Alex? Meghan whispered with grave concern, bracing herself for more bad news. Just wait, assured the pastor. Ive learned you cant rush things with Nicodemus. He has a mind of his own. Two minutes later, the old man hobbled back into the room, carrying a wet-stemmed bouquet of owers that he had absconded from one the of chefs vases. The owers were a little tired-looking, but still had some life in them. Here! he thrust them toward Alex, and stood beside the young pastor, as would a member of a wedding party. Now get on one knee! he commanded. Alex did as he was told, holding the owers toward Meghan, as Monk looked on, grinning from ear-to-ear. Now ask her! Nicodemus prodded impatiently. Meghan. Would you marry me? I know this is sudden and coming as a complete surprise. But I am yet again at a crossroads where I must either let you go, or commit

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to laying down my life for you, for the rest of my life. Im not going to make the same mistake twice. Please be my wife. Oh, Alexander... she murmured softly, putting her hand to her mouth. Is that really what you want? Or are these two putting you up to it? Before Ill answer, I just need to know that this is what you really want. These two, Alex indicated the two older men beside him, have made me realize that I cannot forever sit the fence, trying to play it safe. To take a step of faith, you really have to jump off of a cliff. So I am here, standing on the ledge, hoping that you will join me. Before you answer, Monk interjected, there are some things you need to know. First, you will not be able to go back to your old life. This includes connecting with your family, and friends for at least a few years. Secondly, you must understand that Alexander has made a commitment to use his gift of writing for the Great Ones cause. This will end up putting the both of you in extreme danger. The cleric grabbed the leather book from the table. Listen to the Ancient Words, coming directly from the Messiahs mouth:
If the world hates you, realize that it hated me before it hated you. If you had anything in common with the world, the world would love you as one of its own. But you don't have anything in common with the world. I chose you from the world, and that's why the world hates you. Remember what I told you: 'A servant isn't greater than his master.' If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you...

The world is becoming an increasingly enlightened place, and consequently, all the more hostile to the Ancient Ways. When you reject the ideals of the Illumined Ones, you will be labelled as a backwards-thinking-bigot. People will spit on you in ridicule. Others will wish you were dead. But the Messiah has told us that this is what is to be expected for anyone who is committed to his cause. Lastly, if you are to marry Alexander, please realize that your commitment to the Great One must always come rst. Yahweh ordained marriage, and therefore holds it in the deepest regard. He hates divorce as much as he hates unfaithfulness. If each of you put your faith in the Great One rather than in each other, your marriage will forever be blessed and protected. Im sorry for interrupting, but I thought you should know before making a nal decision, the cleric explained. Meghan took the owers from Alex, who was still on one knee, looking up at her. Is this really what you want? she asked. I do, he said, feeling as though one foot was dangling in mid air-over the precipice. Hopefully she would grab his hand, and they would jump together.

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Then I do too, she vowed, her lips meeting his in excitement. Hold on! Hold on! Nicodemus shouted in his ever domineering way. This isnt ofcial until a ring is involved. In a sweeping movement that was supposed to be inconspicuous, he slid a box into the pastors unsuspecting hand. The young pastor was about to refuse, when he caught sight of the sincere kindness welling up in the old mans eyes. Opening the box revealed a gleaming 3/4 carat diamond, set upon a modest white gold band. Behind Meghans shoulder, Alex saw the old mans face beaming through his tears, as he silently mouthed the words, It was my mothers. Alexander Putnam! Meghan gasped, taking the ring from the box. This is so beautiful! she exclaimed, placing it on her nger. And it ts perfectly. The wedding must be soon, insisted Monk. I have a feeling that things are going to begin happening fast and furiously around here in the coming days, and you two will need to be on the same page. If there are no objections, the wedding will take place at the Virginia safe-house on Friday night after Nicodemus has returned from New York. There are no objections here, afrmed Alex, cuddling close to his bride-to-be. I just have two questions. Who will be conducting the ceremony? And where will we be staying? I dont think it is safe for either of us to return home. The monks will lead the wedding ceremony, stated the cleric, and tonight you will each have your own bedrooms here. Tomorrow, I have arranged a eld trip for the two of you, and then the driver will bring you back to the Virginia safe-house. And after that? Alex wondered out loud. It seemed that his life was about to chart a completely different course. Only the Great One knows, replied Monk. And now, Meghan, would you be so kind as to assist Nicodemus to his room? Alex, I need you to stay here with me. There are some nal matters we must discuss. The industrialist and his lovely new nurse were just about to round the corner at the end of the long hallway, when Alex called out. Nicodemus? The old man turned so that he could better see the former pastor who stood next to the brown-robed cleric in the library. Yes? he replied weakly. I would be blessed to call you my best man on Friday night. Could you do that for me? It would be my honor, Nicodemus responded with a shallow bow; his voice cracking. It would be my honor, Alexander.

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***** The Duke scanned the remote piece of Jersey shoreline rehearsing how it would all go down. He would park over here. Drag the old geezer over there. If he knocked George Talbott around enough, he would stay put while he dug the hole. The rest would be childs play. As he assessed the scene of the crime, he continued to mull over what the brothers had meant when they said he would need to harvest the old mans life force... In The Dukes world, he was king. It was a simple approach to life that had proven to be quite practical in the past. Those who could strengthen his kingdom, he used. Those who threatened his kingdom, he destroyed. All the others could screw themselves as far as he was concerned. But getting caught up into the Brotherhood and all of its convoluted esoteric teachings had begun to thoroughly complicate his normally uncomplicated mindset. That he was left to guess how to fulll the brothers expectations was a great source of frustration. After their meeting, he had returned to the hotel room and began scanning the internet looking for answers. After pointing and clicking for some time, he happened upon a page about a Luciferian Grand Master in the Craft, named of Aleister Crowley. The webpage on Crowley was a history lesson in all things occult. It referenced people and books The Duke could have cared less about; the terminology was as idiotic as the rites he had committed to memory in the past few days. After sifting through the spiritual mumbo-jumbo for forty-ve minutes, he was partially convinced he had stumbled upon the answer. But if this was what the brothers meant by harvesting, he wanted nothing to do with it. Crowley had been an adept in dark mysteries and believed that he was the reincarnation of Yezid: a prophet from an old, intergalactic civilization, whose sun was Sirius. Consequently, he worshiped Sirius as his light of creation. With the bizarre belief that he had originated from another planet in a previous life, Crowley began studying various historical records documenting the arrival of these foreign beings to earth. The Sirians also called the ancient Sumerians were highly sexualized beings who timed their orgies with the revolution of the stars and planets. Unlike the lust-driven, self-gratifying wham-bam found in modern-day promiscuous lifestyles, the Sumerians believed that intercourse which coincided with the movement of the heavens could be used to gain access to different dimensions. By partaking in the rhythms of the Hindu tantric arts, Crowley suggested that the natural rhythms of the earth could be harnessed to create deep magic. Apparently, the most powerful of this celestial magic was obtained through sodomy.

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The thought of molesting an old man before ritualistically killing him was exceedingly distasteful to The Duke. As he stood on the wind-blown sandy embankment overlooking the cascading waves of the ocean, he shook his head violently in disgust, trying to clear his mind of the vile image. If this was what the brothers had in mind, they were both beyond sick and twisted. He would not do it. ***** Tomorrow, youre going to meet two very special people, informed Monk, as he sat next to Alex enjoying the crackling blaze that had just been started in the replace. It was a peaceful atmosphere, interrupted occasionally by the sounds of the men-in-brown as they scuttled around the mansion packing vast quantities of wires and electronics. This couple is very precious to me, and so it is going to be very important that your approach with them is not inuenced by your extensive training in organized religion. What do you mean by that? Alex asked, wondering if he should be offended. Organized religion and its adherents have done more to damage the good-hearted people of this earth than any other force, the cleric uttered atly. Swallowing hard, Alex made a conscious effort not to overreact. I just dont think thats true, Monk. Sure, churches arent perfect and are lled with imperfect people; but look at all the good that they do! Really? Please tell me about all these good things you speak of, Monk invited patiently. Alex jumped in with both feet. The church not only introduces people to God, but teaches them Gods ways. It shows people how to worship, how to be more generous, and how to be better people. The church brings healing and acceptance to wounded souls, and serves as a gathering place where the community can fellowship with one another. Thats denitely one interpretation of organized religion. But theres another way of looking at it. The Great One never intended for his church to become formalized into a hierarchy of enlightened leaders. For this mimics the ways of the Illumined Ones. The Ancient Ways are a code of living, illustrating how humankind can be at peace with their Creator and fellow men while stuck in the middle of a hostile world dominated by the Light Bearer. The Ancient Words were meant to saturate the human soul with love, making human beings free of all fear, including the fear of death.

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Any time humankind is organized according to a hierarchy, conicts of interest come into play. Organized religion intentionally misrepresents the truths of the Ancient Ways for its own selsh purposes. Understandably, it doesnt take long for the original message of compassion which encourages people to make personal sacrices to feed the hungry and clothe the poor on behalf of the Great One to be translated into the corrupt message of getting people to make nancial sacrices so that a political hierarchy can build and sustain a kingdom. When I see the Vatican, I see a kingdom. When I see money-begging televangelists, I see slick salesmen working on building a kingdom. When the offering plate is passed, I know a religious efdom has been established. When I see popes, pastors, priests, bishops, and cardinals wearing impressive, owing gowns, I see kings and princes; counts and barons. To put this all into perspective, consider this: If you took all of the billions of dollars spent on church workers, church buildings, and church programs, and gave it to the poor, wouldnt the world be a better place? Isnt this what the Messiah told the rich young ruler to do? And without these workers, buildings, and programs, would followers of Yahweh be more inclined to be the church, rather than go to church? Alex eyes widened at the prospect. But it did not slow down the man in brown. The Great One never intended for there to be church buildings to hold throngs of religious spectators. He told his followers that they as individual people were the church. Yahweh never intended for there to be church governments, organized into a hierarchy of self-importance. He said that every follower of the Messiah was to be a priest. The intensity in Monks voice increased as he continued. A hierarchy of leadership follows the pattern designated by the Light Bearer, where the Illumined Ones control vast herds of dumb cattle and sheep from the top of the pyramid. Organized religion states to its adherents: You are simply spectators in the process. Give us your money, and let the professionals take care of the important stuff. Isnt this precisely the same message, increasingly fed to us by modern western governments, who say, You common people keep out of our way. We professional politicians and bureaucrats know what is best for you. So pay your taxes and shut up! Now contrast that attitude with the Messiahs, when he proved the superiority of the Ancient Ways by showing his willingness to sacrice everything in order to bring freedom to anyone who believed. Somehow, I have to get this simple truth to sink into your organized-religion-mindset: The Illumined Ones who lead government and religion are possessed by conicts of interest. Their intent is to make slaves out of people, in order to build their kingdoms.

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The pure-hearted Messiah, on the other hand, became humankinds servant, in order to make them free. Now whos side do you want to be on? The Messiahs, of course. I am a pastor after all, muttered Alex snidely. Monk was undeterred. You were a pastor, you mean. Last I knew, you were out of a job, out of a car, and out of a house. Its still not too late to return to your old life. Would you like me to drop you off? No... Im quite ne, thanks, Putnam looked at his feet ashamed. Why did he always have to come-off like such an arrogant prick. He hated getting his wrist slapped. It made him feel like a child. Have you ever tried to guess why we monks remain nameless? asked the cleric. Why do you think that is? Alex was about to make an off-the-cuff remark, when he bit his tongue. There was no sense digging a deeper hole. Monk continued. Remaining nameless and as faceless as possible allows us to guard against pride. Pride, by its very nature is a kingdom builder. If we allowed it to take root, it would have us making compromises because of conict of interest. And soon after, our focus would shift from helping those in need, to angling on how we could use people as a means of building and sustaining our kingdom. Next thing you know, weve become servants of the Light Bearer; wolves in sheeps clothing. Now hand me Nicodemus copy of the Ancient Words, would you? Monk requested. Alex reached back to the table and grabbed the leather-bound volume, handing it to the ery cleric. Listen, as I explain the Ancient Ways to you, he said, opening the book.
Then Jesus noticed how the guests always chose the places of honor. So he used this illustration when he spoke to them: "When someone invites you to a wedding, don't take the place of honor. Maybe someone more important than you was invited. Then your host would say to you, 'Give this person your place.' Embarrassed, you would have to take the place of least honor. So when you're invited, take the place of least honor. Then, when your host comes, he will tell you, 'Friend, move to a more honorable place.' Then all the other guests will see how you are honored. Those who honor themselves will be humbled, but people who humble themselves will be honored." Then he told the man who had invited him, "When you invite people for lunch or dinner, don't invite only your friends, family, other relatives, or rich neighbors. Otherwise, they will return the favor.

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Instead, when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the handicapped, the lame, and the blind. Then you will be blessed because they don't have any way to pay you back. You will be paid back when those who have God's approval come back to life...

The Messiah is showing us the nature of conict of interest. He knows that our human nature is bent toward illumination. Illumined Ones are kingdom-builders, and are governed by pride and greed. Kingdom-builders dont think twice when it comes to exploiting other human beings. This is why the Messiah tells us to hate our life in this world.
I can guarantee this truth: A single grain of wheat doesn't produce anything unless it is planted in the ground and dies. If it dies, it will produce a lot of grain. Those who love their lives will destroy them, and those who hate their lives in this world will guard them for everlasting life.

When we hate our lives in this world, our kingdom-building aspirations die. We no longer care about creating an earthly legacy. We no longer care if people know how important we are. We become far more comfortable with being the nameless and faceless servants of humankind who are accountable only to the Great One. Now tell me what you think would happen if you shared these scriptures with the Illumined Ones who lead organized religion? asked Monk. Theyd likely give you all kinds of lip service while in the public eye, then privately tell you to go to hell, Alex offered, still trying to come to grips with the implications of the teaching. Exactly! But hell this is precisely what the Messiah tells us the Illumined Ones should expect:
"They do everything to attract people's attention. They make their headbands large and the tassels on their shawls long. They love the place of honor at dinners and the front seats in synagogues. They love to be greeted in the marketplaces and to have people call them Rabbi. But don't make others call you Rabbi, because you have only one teacher, and you are all followers. And don't call anyone on earth your father, because you have only one Father, and he is in heaven. Don't make others call you a leader, because you have only one leader, the Messiah. The person who is greatest among you will be your servant. Whoever honors himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be honored. "How horrible it will be for you, scribes and Pharisees! You hypocrites! You lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. You don't enter it yourselves, and you don't permit others to enter when they try. "How horrible it will be for you, scribes and Pharisees! You hypocrites! You cross land and sea to recruit a single follower, and when you do, you make that person twice as t for hell as you are.

You see, many decent people dont attend church for good reasons. Although they would like to believe that the Ancient Ways are true, they cant stomach the hypocrisy of

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the Illumined kingdom-builders of organized religion who misuse the Ancient Words to enslave people. It truly is the blind leading the blind. Alex was disconcerted. So you think the world would be a better place if people would stop going to church? Absolutely! How will people ever become the church, if the Illumined Ones keep them so busy going to church? How will the hungry ever be fed, if the church-goers are spending their money on heating or cooling a building that gets used once or twice a week? Or paying the salary of a priest who is molesting young boys, or a pastor who is having an affair with his associate? An affair? Was he talking about Randall? Even still... Thats not fair! argued the young pastor. I simply cant agree with your blanket statement that all church leaders are immoral. And what about you? Arent you the leader of this merry band of monks? We are each vulnerable to moral collapse, Monk smiled broadly. Every church leader myself included is human, and consequently prone to wickedness. This makes each of us unt to lead a ock of sheep. Paying an Illumined One to lead a congregation only tells him that he is somehow worthy of being the shepherd over that ock. That is foolishness! No one is worthy! There is only be one shepherd who is worthy of leading the ock:
...A thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy. But I came so that my sheep will have life and so that they will have everything they need. "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep. A hired hand isn't a shepherd and doesn't own the sheep. When he sees a wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and quickly runs away. So the wolf drags the sheep away and scatters the ock. The hired hand is concerned about what he's going to get paid and not about the sheep. "I am the good shepherd. I know my sheep as the Father knows me. My sheep know me as I know the Father. So I give my life for my sheep. I also have other sheep that are not from this pen. I must lead them. They, too, will respond to my voice. So they will be one ock with one shepherd.

Monk! I cant argue with what youre saying. But I still think youre wrong. People need to go to church! Alex exclaimed. They need pastors who will lead them! Monk was undeterred. You cant nd fault with the Ancient Words, but your religious conditioning wont allow you to accept it. Church-going is an addiction no different than when you were addicted to pornography. If you were to keep people from going to church, they would suffer the same withdrawal symptoms as any other addict. Why? All addiction is an attempt at mind-control by the forces of illumination. Going to church is a compulsion no different than any other. Being the church; now that is a completely different story.

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This is why I must insist that you empty yourself of all your religious conicts of interest before you meet with Robert and Sylvia tomorrow. Youre used to being perceived as an expert regarding spiritual matters. Its time that you began to recognize yourself as a novice. Really? Alex asked, a pained look on his face. I cant have you acting as a human wrecking-ball around tender souls who have been rescued from the pit of hell. Robert and Sylvia have been rebirthed into the Ancient Ways and have mercifully remained untouched by religion. I am trusting that you will not corrupt their souls by introducing them to it. If you cant trust me, why dont you come along? the one-time pastor was beginning to sulk. Monk rose to his feet, and squeezed the younger mans shoulder. I trust you. But you needed to be warned. And why is that? he questioned, feeling like a scolded puppy. The cleric opened the book one nal time, reading with purpose and clarity, ensuring that there could be no mistaking his meaning.
These little ones believe in me. It would be best for the person who causes one of them to lose faith to be drowned in the sea with a large stone hung around his neck.

Alexander, we must never bring confusion to the Messiahs children with our misguided illumined understandings. The Great One forbids it.

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Chapter 42

ait! Could you sit with me for a moment?

Of course I will, she agreed, approaching the edge of the expansive bed. After Meghan had helped him to his room, Nicodemus insisted that she stay while he prepared for bed in the on-suite bathroom. She spent the next ten minutes evaluating abstract artwork hanging from the walls, thinking it odd that there were no photographs of family. The room was decorated tastefully, but it had the sterile feeling of a luxury hotel bedchamber. After dispensing his pills and tucking him into bed, she was just about to shut off the light when he had called out. She felt compassion for Nicodemus a withered up shell of a man, who seemed to struggle for each breath and felt no strangeness accompanying him by sitting on the edge of his bed. Thank you, he grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently, I just need to settle down for a few minutes before I fall asleep. Meghan said nothing, returning the squeeze, smiling warmly into the tired-looking face. Alexander is fortunate to be marrying such a beautiful soul. I pray that he will never lose sight of your loveliness. My rst wife had your poise and grace and was the love of my life until I became distracted by a new love. A new woman came into your life? she inquired. Bah! Many came and went. My new love was power. When I was a man of modest means, my wife was my world. As my business began to prosper and I began to network with other gures who were more powerful and inuential, I began to crave what they had. My mistake was in breaking the Tenth Commandment. Which one is that? she wondered. Im always getting them messed up. Do not covet, Nicodemus answered. Everyone I know of in my social-standing is driven by covetousness. There are only a few hundred of us, and we control over ninety percent of the worlds total wealth and resources. But isnt it strange that we always want more! The funny thing about ultra-rich people, is that once we have accumulated an unlimited supply of cash, it no longer matters. Money simply become a means of purchasing more power. Unlike your beautiful eyes that are an uncommon shade of green, we

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become green with envy; and it is most ugly. Eventually, when ungodly amounts of money will no longer buy the type of power and control one desires, we are driven to seek it out in darker places. Nicodemus paused, catching his breath, feeling the walls of the home he once loved closing in on him as if it were a cofn. His ragging breathing began to subconsciously quicken, and for a moment he though he was going to hyperventilate, until a gentle squeeze on his hand brought him back to reality. Meghan. Ah yes, what a rare, generous beauty; so full of grace and sincerity. He would not grow tired of her company. She was so much like his rst wife. Are you familiar with the term, knowledge is power? Meghan nodded her head, intent on keeping eye contact with the old man, trying to keep his mind from wandering. Its true, you know? Knowledge is a dark temptress which woos the hearts of men, beckoning them to learn her secrets, ever-promising to consummate their quest with supreme power. But she is ultimately and please excuse my French a jealous bitch, who will not tolerate competition. Her demands for uncompromising allegiance brings death to any other being vying for the heart of man. And that is how I lost the love of my life. Knowledge is a crafty bitch. Had I chosen to pursue truth rather than knowledge, I might be lying here on my deathbed with a room full of people who love me, rather than one dear soul, who has been kind enough to take pity on a pathetic old fool. I dont pity you, Meghan spoke honestly. And I dont think you are pathetic, either. Nicodemus fastened his eyes to hers, ensuring that she caught the full impact of his next words. My dear, I have made peace with the fact that I am leaving behind a legacy of death. I represent the senseless killing of thousands. I represent countless molestations and rapes. I represent the starvation and poverty of millions. I represent the brainwashing of several generations, making them fools who embrace the way of enlightened knowledge, and the death it brings. I represent the mockery of the Great Ones truths. I represent the death of the Ancient Ways. Im a pathetic old fool, and you should pity me. That I will die alone, only proves my legacy of death! Meghan felt his pain, and continue to squeeze tightly onto the withered hand. There was nothing she could say. Do you know why my children arent here with me? Because I divorced them from my life. I paid them handsomely to get out of my life. And all for what? Knowledge hates children; they are annoying competitors. Knowledge hates families who sit down to eat together. Knowledge hates when people nd joy in other human

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beings. Sure, she promises power and prestige, but all she can deliver is pride! You must listen to me, Nicodemus pulled Meghan closer toward him. You must keep Alexander accountable to truth. Patterns of knowledge-seeking have already been established in his mind. Although he has recently had an encounter with truth, you must remain by his side to help him, as he sets out to establish a new pattern; a pattern that sees the world through the Ancient Words. As his wife, you are to be his helper. Help him to always nd joy in you. Encourage him to nd joy in your children. And most of all, the old man smiled, keep him humble. I will, Meghan whispered as she reached down to kiss the old industrialist on the forehead. You are a good man, Nicodemus. Do not doubt that. When Alex and I have children, Im going to tell them about you, and I am going to teach them the lesson you just taught me. Youre leaving behind a legacy of life; through Alex and me. Rising from the bed, she shut off the light, and was about to close the door, when the old man spoke out from the darkness. Sweet girl? Ah, you havent left me yet. I have one nal word. Alexander is a man. He is a strong man, with strong needs from a helper like you. Allow him to need you, and then meet those needs with open arms. Take from him the good gift he gives, for that is how the Great One intended for life to be created. May your household always be lled with vibrant life. May the two of you never grow weary of the sound of your childrens voices. May you always be reminded that the love of children comes from a love of truth. ***** It was growing late, but Felicity and Elsie were still awake. Eyes wide open, they stared into the darkness toward the ceiling, clinging to the warm comfort of each others company. Since the wild eight had left, the silence in the house continued to serve as a constant reminder that they too, were about to meet their fate. Although everyone could guess what would happen, no one wanted to speak it out. And so each of them suffered alone in silent, daunting uncertainty. Do you ever think youll see your mom and dad again? asked Elsie. What were they like? They were the greatest! bragged Felicity. If theres one thing that stands out in my mind, its how much my mom and dad enjoyed one another. Dont get me wrong, they were really busy, and lots of times they would be like two ships passing in the night. But whether they were washing dishes, or cleaning up the house, they had a real playful side that was contagious. You could tell they loved each other.

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Its weird how each of us get dealt a different hand, Elsie commented. I wonder sometimes why you were born into a family like that, and I got stuck with a mom who didnt love me, and a step-father who loved me for my body. I mean, whos in charge of the stupid storks that drop the babies into different homes? Im happy that you have a great family, but Im sad for me. I dont even know who my real father is. Felicity wrapped her arms around the younger girl, holding onto her tightly, hoping to express some form of comfort in the absence of words. After some time had passed, she released Elsie, condent that she would say the right thing. My parents werent perfect. When they argued, it was always frightening, because it wasnt the norm. But they always managed to get it back on track. I think that God wants the best for each of us when he brings our souls into the world. But human beings make choices, and sometimes those decisions have devastating consequences on others. My parents could have thrown-in-the-towel probably a half-adozen times that I know of. But somehow, they found the strength to grit-it-out, working together to nd solutions to their problems. So I dont think God can be blamed. I think people just make poor choices. Why did you choose me? asked Elsie, her voice small and innocent like that of a child. Of all the girls here, why did you zero-in on me? Felicity raised her head from the pillow, propping it up with her arm and elbow, facing the scared little one beside her. Youre special Elsie. Theres something incredibly unique and precious that I am drawn to. The other girls... Elsie stammered. Sometimes the other girls would... you know... love-on each other after movie time. I never actually saw them do it, but I know they did. Is that how you are drawn to me? No, silly! Felicity laughed, relieving the tension. I love you, and I care for you with all my heart, but we were always meant to be sisters, she assured, running her ngers down Elsies cheek. Your step-father was an evil man. He used his power to exploit your innocence, taking what he wanted from you. Then, you were kidnapped by another evil man and brought here, where you were exposed to all kinds of hideous imagery during movie time. But you mustnt give up on men. There are some good guys out there. My father is one. One time, a boy was late bringing me home from a date. My dad sat on the porch and let the poor kid have it. At the time, I was horried and embarrassed; I didnt speak to my father for a couple of days after that. He gave me space, and let me get over myself, and then he sat me down, explaining why he did what he did. He said, Did I tell that boy what time I wanted you home when he came to pick you up? I said, yes. Then he said, When that boy brought you home late, he was proving

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to both you and I that he wasnt deserving of a woman of your calibre. You are a woman deserving of respect. Any boy who cannot keep his word, will not respect you in the end. I couldnt be mad after that. My dad was being my protector, and was willing to teach me what kind of man I should be looking for. He wasnt telling me that all men were bad. He was just saying that it was important to nd the right one. Youve got a white knight is out there somewhere Elsie, just waiting for a girl like you. You think so? the younger girl wondered dreamily, with a smile on her face. I know so. Youre a special, beautiful young woman, whos going to make someone a very lucky guy! Elsie sighed and shifted her body with sudden agitation. Youre lucky to have a father who loves you enough to protect you like that. I wish that had been in the cards for me. Maybe he wouldve blown my step-fathers brains out for what he did to me. Then he wouldve held onto to me for forever, telling me that hed make everything okay. And I wouldve just collapsed there in his arms, knowing that what he said was true. Everything would be okay. Everything would be right with my world. Dont ever doubt Gods love for you Elsie, Felicity reminded. He didnt want that terror to come upon your life. He is your protective father. And right now, hes holding you in his arms. Elsie was smiling again. He is, isnt he. I think I can feel him sometimes! He is, Felicity assured condently. But she was silently crying out, from deep on the inside. She too, desperately needed her father to hold her, to tell her that he would make everything okay.

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Chapter 43 F
our AM was an early start on the best of days. But after going to bed at eleven, it was difcult to rise. Monk didnt give them much choice; the man-in-brown would not leave their bedroom doorways until each had their feet on the oor. An hour later, Alex and Meghan had both showered, had a cup of coffee, and were nodding-off in the backseat of a car headed for Harrisburg; a monk at the wheel. The Talbott compound had emptied out in a urry of vehicles all at once, confusing the observers down the street. The last to leave was Monk, after he had personally ensured that Nicodemus was comfortably situated in his hired car. The limousine would take the industrialist to Manhattan, where he would catch a nap at his hotel before beginning his series of meetings. Sir? Maam? Were here, said the monk over his shoulder, seemingly minutes after the journey had begun. The two in the backseat rubbed their eyes and stretched, unbelieving that three hours had passed by so quickly. Will they be expecting us at this early hour? wondered Alex. Everything is running according to plan Mr. Putnam, replied the driver. Ill wait here until youre nished with your meeting. Then well drive to the Virginia safe-house. I understand congratulations are in order, sir. That is a beautiful ring, maam. It is, isnt it, Meghan beamed. Alex opened the car door and stepped to the sidewalk. Tomorrow is the big day! I trust youll be there? he asked the monk, while taking Meghans hand, helping her to the curb. Wouldnt miss it, sir. The home was like many other turn-of-the-century houses on the tree-lined street. It was a tall, well-cared for, two-story building with an old-fashioned, gated porch. Alex took note of the storage bin lled with toys to the left of the door as he knocked, wondering how many ankle-biters were inside. Come in, come in, welcomed a striking-looking woman who held a baby in one arm, while holding the door open with the other. Weve been expecting you. While not exceedingly tall, her presence was commanding; a quality that captured as much

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attention as her alluring gure, or the silky shine of her platinum blond hair. Curiously, Alex thought she looked vaguely familiar. After taking their coats, the comely woman directed Meghan and Alex out of the small foyer through a series of wooden pocket doors to the kitchen, where a man in his early thirties was seated between two pigtailed girls in highchairs. Im Sylvia, and this is my husband Robert, the woman introduced. As she spoke, the burly man with thinning hair rose, reaching across the table to shake their hands with eager friendliness. Were just about ready to sit down to some breakfast. We hope youll join us, he said. After completing the introductions, Alex wanted to know each of the childrens names. To my right, indicated Robert, is Melody, and to my left is Harmony. They came into the world two-for-the-price-of-one. And ten months later came our little stinker, Nemmy. Hes a bit of a handful. Sylvia placed the diaper-clad cherub into Meghans lap, freeing herself to remove the porridge from the stove. It was a natural gesture that indicated that the guests had been received into the family. While Meghan and Sylvia talked about the children, and Robert did his best to keep some kind of purple-colored, pulverized fruit in the twins mouths, Alex observed the young parents, wondering how they had met. Sylvia was as vivacious as she was voluptuous; perfectly dressed and made-up for this time of the morning. Was it a gment of his imagination, or did she look extremely familiar? Had she once attended the church in Camden Heights? Robert had probably been a body-builder at one time. Though impressive in stature, he lacked the contagious vibrance of his wife, who continued to captivate Putnams full attention. It was a simple meal of hot cereal, fruit, toast, and coffee, and the conversation that followed came naturally. The couple integrated Alex and Meghan into their everyday routine, and likely would have never given thought to rearranging their lives to impress their guests. Nemmy was breast-fed under a blanket while Sylvia ate, and was then passed off to Alex who was rst to nish eating to be burped. With bibs removed and faces wiped-down, the twins ran off to play in another room. So how did you two meet? Meghan asked the million dollar question. We met at the same place we rst met Monk: at Bohemian Grove, said Sylvia. Wheres that? Alex wondered.

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North of San Francisco. Its an exclusive all-male campground for the rich and powerful. For a couple weeks each summer, the bigwigs gather together to feel like real men again, she said derogatorily, you know, out in the wild, having a few beers. So what were you doing there, Sylvia? Meghan grinned. Amongst all those men? Monk told us to be brutally honest with you guys, so we wont hold anything back, the hostess assured, looking across the table at her husband. I was a prostituting myself, and so was Robert. Alex laughed nervously, looking a Robert. Shes kidding right? He shook his head. Im afraid not. Before meeting Monk, Sylvia and I were two hopelessly lost souls. He shifted his gaze toward his wife, and said, I should probably tell my story rst. I need to be at work by noon today. You go ahead, agreed Sylvia, collecting the dishes, bending down to kiss the infant who was cooing in Alex arms. It took a concerted effort for the former pastor not to stare at the full swell of the mothers bosoms, which were clearly revealed through the neck of her shirt as she bent down near his face. Would he always be such a pig? Why was this woman so familiar to him? Had he known her in college? Alex felt his face beginning to ush, and he turned back to face the others, hoping that no one had noticed. Robert was busy with his thoughts, but Meghan was eyeing him curiously, and stied a laugh when he caught her eye. I was a regular in the San Francisco bathhouse scene, Robert began, and an up-andcomer in the gay-rights movement. At this point, Alex thought he would fall off his chair. It was all too much! How did a gay man end up procreating with a sensually dynamic beauty like Sylvia? His grip on little Nemmy tightened subconsciously, and he shot another anxious glance toward Meghan, who was no longer looking in his direction. But she didnt seem the least bit rattled by the revelation of homosexuality. I worked on the committee that ran the Folsom Street Fair, and through those connections I was asked to join a group of young men headed to Bohemian Grove for the weekend. That rst Saturday and Sunday, the money was so good, I became a regular xture at the campground for the next couple of years. I became such a favorite among some of Washingtons elite, they ew me out to New York a couple of times. It was a real power-trip. What do you mean by a favorite? Meghan wondered innocently.

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At the question, Sylvia could be heard chuckling as she washed the dishes in the background. They enjoyed having sex with me, Robert explained atly. I was a confused little boy in a big mans body, thinking that I had made it to the big leagues. But I was in, way over my head. How so? Alex asked. He was having a difcult time believing that a muscular man of such unquestionable masculinity could be remotely interested in members of the same sex. Let me start at the beginning. My sexual-identity-crisis began early in life. My father was a big-shot movie exec in Hollywood, and I rarely saw him. When I did, it was always on the y. He was constantly going somewhere or meeting someone, to do something important. Dad would blow in just long enough to tell us the next big thing he was doing, expecting us all to be impressed, only to blow back out the door, never to be seen or heard from for another long week. He felt guilty about it, I think, because he was always giving us money and buying us things. My mother who was a very decent woman went out shopping one summer day, with my younger brother and sister. I wanted to stay home and play outside, and she let me, because she knew that Rodrigo the gardener was working in the back yard. What none of us knew, was that Rodrigo while appearing kind and gentle on the surface was a pedophile who threatened to murder me in my sleep, if I told anyone what he had done to me. In fear, I kept silent about the events of that day, and he quit working for my parents soon after. But the damage had been done. A few years later, my parents divorced. Dad, it seemed, was promising to advance the careers of aspiring actresses in exchange for sexual favors; a practice my mother frowned upon. Mom ended up remarrying a more attentive gentleman and we moved to San Jose, where we began attending Sunday Mass. It was there that Father Finnigan zeroed-in on me like a hawk diving for a eld mouse. My mother trying to get on with life with her new husband thought it was wonderful that the Father was taking such a personal interest in me. He took me to ball games and to the beach, but he also took me to his bed. I found out later, that he had been transfered ve times prior; in the wake of erupting scandals at his previous posts. But again, the damage had been done. Alex sat there slack-jawed, wishing he could say something. His own tumultuous experiences growing up seemed downright tame by comparison. How much pain could one person experience? Im only spelling things out here because Monk told us you wouldnt use our real names when you wrote your book. I dont mind sharing details. We often tell our

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stories to help those in our support group. But my family would be in danger if certain individuals knew that Sylvia or I were talking. Thank God you belong to a support group! Meghan suddenly chimed in. I was sexually assaulted a few years back, and the most difcult thing for me was the loneliness I felt in not being able to talk about it. Sylvia moved from the sink to stand behind Meghan, resting a hand her shoulder, squeezing gently. Before you leave today, you and I will spend some time together, she said. It will be a relief to get the remnants of that violation off of your soul. And youre more than welcome to join us any Sunday that youre in town, piped Robert. We gather here, to worship the Great One who set us free, and to share a meal together. I may just take you up on that, Meghan said appreciatively. If were ever near Harrisburg on a Sunday, well be sure to stop in. So you are a couple, then, Sylvia declared. I saw the ring, but I couldnt be sure. Well be married tomorrow evening, if all goes according to plan, she beamed. It will be a small wedding. Just Alex, the monks, and I. Dont forget the Great One, dear! the spirited blond reminded excitedly. We were married by Monk in much the same manner. The Great One was present at our wedding in a very tangible way, wasnt he Robert? Catching the eye of her husband, Sylvia suddenly exclaimed, Oh look at me, dominating the discussion again! Im sorry honey. Go ahead with your story. Sylvia is a natural extrovert, Robert spoke with admiration, as he gazed with loving understanding at his wife. Once she gets on a roll, it can sometimes become difcult to put on the brakes. Anyways, he continued, feel free to use anything we share with you today. Just be sure not to use our names, even though we changed them after we were reborn into the Ancient Ways. After six years of special attention from Father Finnigan, I was pretty messed up. I got involved in the drug scene at school, and took a few eld trips to the bath houses in San Francisco. It wasnt long before I dropped out of school and moved in with the rst of many men. I was young and had plenty of experience; which was a combination that made me quite popular. At the end of the day, I ended up with more offers than I could handle. And so continued my life of vanity, emptiness and fear. Only by the grace of the Great One did I fail to contract AIDS or any other terminal disease that were rampant among the homosexual community.

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How many men did you end up being with? Alex pried curiously. More than I could count. Well into the hundreds. But thats just an expected part of the gay lifestyle. Most people dont choose to be gay. Queerness chooses a person; but not from birth like so many in the gay community would like to make you believe. When my father failed to spend the time teaching me how to become a man, queerness chose me. When I was molested by our gardener, queerness chose me. When Father Finnigan told me for years, that he was just showing me the love of God, queerness chose me. Most gays are just like addicts, looking for the next hit; seeking out the person who will nally ll the void. This explains our feminine obsession with vanity; we need to look our best in order to capture the attention of our perfect mate. But there is another type of homosexual that is exceedingly dangerous. Queerness does not choose these men. They choose queerness, and they are from the pit of hell. I didnt realize there were different types of gays, Alex commented. What a strange concept. Not in the least, said Robert. All you have to do is study history. One of the biggest deceptions spread by the modern gay-rights movement is that gay-tolerance is a new, progressive way of thinking. Homosexuals have been around for thousands of years, and for each of those millennia, they have been trying convince the world that the gay lifestyle is superior to heterosexuality. In the early nineteen-hundreds, the gay-rights movement was extremely active in Germany. It was this faction which birthed the homosexual fascists who dominated the Nazi Party. But I thought the Nazis persecuted gays in same the same way they victimized the Jews, Alex commented, demonstrating that he was a student of history. Youre right! They did. And this brings us back to the two types of homosexual. People who are gay because queerness chose them, are generally passive, and are contented with the idea of dont ask, dont tell. This somewhat harmless outlook is the polar opposite of those who choose queerness; those who practice homosexuality because it brings them a feeling of power. The butch gays who controlled the Nazi party hated the femmy, amboyant, artsy gays, labeling them as feminine and weak, and therefore worthy of ridicule, persecution, and the gas chambers. This differentiation in homosexual life goes way back into history. Butch gays wanted to violate the Messiahs angels when they went to Sodom after visiting with Abraham. Butch gays in Ancient Greece used to kidnap young boys, molesting them, while becoming their new father gures. Hitler and his men were butch gays who molested

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thousands of German blue-eyed boys. And need I say anything more about the Church and her vile priests? Butch gays in modern gay-pride parades chant, were here, were queer, and were coming after your children. And NAMBLA the North American Man-Boy Love Association continues to carry the torch for this perversion on this side of the ocean. The Light-Bearer hates male children, because he knows that these have been predestined to lead and protect the families of the future. Ordinarily, Lucifers Enlightened Ones would be contented to simply compromise the integrity of men. But when they attack young boys, they do it to convert impressionable males, so that they too will embrace a life of perversion. For too often, the victims end up being future perpetrators. This is the ugly truth behind gay-pride. Butch gays are the sado-masochists you see with the leather and pierced nipples. They are the ones you see getting each other off in broad daylight at Folsom Street. They express their hatred toward children by hurting them. They hate femmy gays as much as they hate females. They hate weakness; they hate the traditional family; they hate Christianity; and they hate what is good, pure, and lovely. But here is the serious point that you must understand: butch gays are not always so easy to identify! They can be men as well as women, and theyre sometime not as easy to pick out as the perverts who are groping each other in gay-pride parades. During my visits to Bohemian Grove and New York City, I learned that many politicians and ofcers many of whom are in the highest echelons of power in the government and military are really butch gays in disguise. As a young man who had his self-esteem stolen from him at a young age, I welcomed molestation by these powerful men as an honor. But just when I had become convinced that someone found me valuable for who I was, they tossed me aside like trash, leaving me alone to face my emptiness, yet again. Its no wonder that the invisible steerers of culture will usually support any kind of political effort that promotes promiscuity; because promiscuity is a homosexual concept. Gays are notoriously promiscuous because no matter how hard they search, they never nd what they are looking for. And it is the same for promiscuous heterosexuals who frequent prostitutes or strip-clubs, along with those who are addicted to pornography. At Roberts nal comment, Alex began to gaze at the oor, trying to recall something the twitchy scientist Anthony Coleman had said to him. What was it? All pornography was homosexual? He glanced over at Meghan, who continued staring wide-eyed at the young father as he told the tale. It seemed that she was equally intrigued that a man with a such sordid past could be now holding the precious innocence of his own baby boy in his arms.

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He explained further. The Great One lls a void in humankind when they choose to receive the Messiah as their liberator. A void is also lled when men become faithful husbands to their wives, and fathers of their children. Emptiness is forever vanquished when a man chooses to be a white knight in the Great Ones Kingdom; taking an active role in becoming the defender of his household; willing to sacrice his life for the betterment of his family. The enlightened orchestrators behind modern social engineering know that their diabolical plan to create a New World Order cannot be fullled as long as white knights exist. The Illumined Ones learned through their experiment with Naziism and Hitler, that the physical extermination of white knights was not a permanent solution. Therefore, the only way to advance the cause of enlightenment, was to destroy the Ancient Ways and its followers. This has been accomplished in the last two generations by replacing the moral absolutes of the Ancient Words with moral relativism; by brainwashing people through mind-control techniques to favor the ludicrous doctrines of political correctness over common sense; and by convincing people that tolerance of wickedness is somehow more dignied than the protection of innocent children. And while our young boys and girls are being molested, our teenagers are being kidnapped by human trafckers, and our women are being raped, the men who were supposed to be our countrys white knights who lived by the code of the Ancient Ways are in a trance in front of their computer screens and television sets; leaving the butch gays to rule the roost. Robert then focused his attention on Alex: This is why it is so important for you to be able to show the historical connection between the occult, butch homosexuality, and fascism, when you write your book. For this is very the nature of the dark spirit behind the enlightenment, which the Illumined Ones are now trying to spread throughout the entire world. ***** Trying his best to catch his breath during the long elevator ride, The Duke cursed himself as he glanced down at his watch. He was ve minutes late for his morning meeting with the Wellington brothers. Upon seeing him walk briskly into the ofce lobby, the receptionist ushered him straight through the glass doors, a look of irritation on her face. How did you sleep, Mr. Duke? You look tired, observed Philip, shooting a doubtful glance toward William while sweeping a thin, grey, wisp of hair from his long forehead. The Global Head of Maa Relations remained at odds with his brother over the selection of The Duke to the position of Agency Director. There just wasnt enough spine in the man. Somehow, William must be made to understand.

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Ive been burning the midnight oil researching the most effective way to dispose of Talbott. After everything hes done, he deserves a proper burial, The Duke laughed, hoping to draw a smile from the serious looking Brits, who were seated across from him at the expansive desk. William forced a stiff smile. Clearly the man was an idiot. But such idiots were usually compliant when it came to following orders; especially if they were eager to please. His brother and he had gone around and around on how to best replace the outgoing Director. He, for one, was all for hitching the cart to this donkey; jackass or not. Philip on the other hand thought their mole in the Agency, Kevin Militello was better suited. He was an accomplished killer, and was already a high ranking member of their fraternity. Williams problem with Militello was that the man already lived by a code. It may have been a ruthless code of his own making, but it was still a code, nonetheless. The leader of the Brotherhood understood all too well that only men with no code, could be made to do exactly what they were told. Tell us the plan, Philip baited The Duke, hoping an inept response would show his brother the light. The agent didnt hesitate in his response. Im going to kill him according to the vow I took when I became an Apprentice in the Craft. The oath spells out quite clearly what is supposed to happen to those who reveal the Crafts secrets. And if there are no objections, I would like to skip the part that includes slitting his throat. A quick death kind of defeats the purpose, doesnt it? The Duke grinned, condent the brothers would approve. A suitable ending for a double-crossing traitor, concurred Philip. I trust you have found a suitable beach? Yeah. I located the perfect spot along the Jersey shore. Wonderful! Just wonderful! Philip praised. Now, help me to understand a small detail. From my records, you have never attained the 33rd Degree of our beloved Craft, have you? No, I havent, The Duke confessed, tilting his head to one side, in an attempt to relieve the building stress at the base of his neck. Didnt they realize how much of that damned memory-work was required to get to the 33rd Degree? The last time you were here, Philip closed in for the kill, you implied that you had an understanding of how to harvest Talbotts life force before he died. This is a skill that you will use frequently in your job. It is a skill you will need to be able to pass along to

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others. Because you have failed to advance to the status of Adept in the Craft, Im curious: do you actually know how to harvest a life force? Of course, lied The Duke. Now was not the time to be slow-witted. These guys werent messing around. But what could he tell them? He didnt have a clue how to harvest anything, let alone a persons life force. The agent strained his mind to recall everything on the web page about Aleister Crowley. The sorcerer had achieved the 33rd Degree of the Craft, so he must have known what he was talking about. Dare he gamble, simply repeating what he had read? Im interested in this, said Philip, catching the eye of his brother. Finally, the truth would be revealed about this spineless peon that William was trying to groom. It was time to let him sink his own ship. Tell me more, Mr. Duke. There have always been several ways to skin a cat, chuckled The Duke casually, hoping to buy some time. But it was futile; this he knew. Philip was a cold, calculating thug who was out to get him for some reason. The agent loosened his tie, getting ready for the battle ahead. Interesting choice of words, acknowledged Philip. Why dont you share with us how you would harvest the life force of a man of Talbotts legacy and power. This will give us some indication as to your ability to ow in the deeper waters of the Craft. The Duke swallowed hard, wishing for a beverage of some kind to give him a few more precious seconds. What the hell! If he was wrong, he would just plead ignorance. But what if they thought he was a faggot? Oh well, J. Edgar Hoover was as queer as a three dollar bill and the intelligence community named a building after him. This crap was so over his pay-grid. Were waiting, said Philip, drumming his ngers on the desk. For a man like Talbott, sodomy would be the only way, said The Duke with an attempt at levity; oating it out as a joke. If he read disgust on their faces he would claim it was just a stupid attempt at humor. To his surprise, the brothers nodded their heads approvingly. Well said, William commented. Now you must share with us how you learned this method while still being excuse the pun a layman. Do you have any experience in harvesting a life force in this manner? I have enough understanding of the matter to get the job done, The Duke lied smoothly, hoping to avoid the rst part of the question. Perhaps he should just drop out of the running now. The thought of sodomizing anyone made him want to puke. But he mustnt lose sight that this was the opportunity of lifetime! Imagine all the people that would be answering to him. Just think of hordes of people he would control. They

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would be licking his boots when it was all said and done! He had faked it this far, he could do so into the future. Very few minds were as sharp as his. That you have experience is excellent! Philip exclaimed. By the power of Sirius the Almighty, rape and steal every morsel of energy from that betraying son-of-a-bitch, then send him on to hell to collect his new embodiment! William then steered the conversation back to more practical matters. Talbott has a combined meeting with the heads of the Council on Foreign Relations and the Trilateral Commission in the United Nations Building at eleven-thirty. We want you to be in attendance as our representative. Then well want you back here for the meeting between Talbott and the governors of Bilderberg and the Council of Thirteen at 1PM. There will be many important global personalities who will be in town for your swearing in. It will be critically important that you carry George Talbotts life-force at the time of the initiation. This is a spiritually intuitive group. They will be evaluating you, and how dominant you will be. You must reek of dominance! George Talbott was a Master of the Craft, and a genius when it came to preparing the western world to receive our grand Agenda. Though it is clear that he has become a traitor to the Cause, there remains magic in the man that you must take upon yourself. Do not let him die, until every last powerful entity he carries has made its home in you, William commanded. The Duke nodded afrmatively. He didnt have a clue what the hell they were talking about. ***** In their upper-middle-class DC suburb, Wanda Grimsby and her mother were clearing the table. Both women had struggled to keep their emotions from bubbling to the surface during breakfast. Throughout the meal, the boys had discussed how they were going to make an even bigger pile of leaves today, and how they were going ambush daddy, when he got home from work. On several occasions Wanda tried to interrupt their scheming, in order to make the young children aware of what had happened, but she could not nd the words. But she could procrastinate no further. Every time the boys mentioned their father, it was like a dagger piercing into her heart. Why had she chosen to believe in the veracity of the photographs over Jacks explanation of the events? Sure, there had been many times he had worked well into the night, and bitterness had begun settling in over his perpetual state of exhaustion. But besides that, he had given no real reason for mistrust, until those pictures had showed up. Suppose they were real. Who was the other woman in the photograph? Who had sent her the photos?

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None of it really mattered now. Her husband, and the father of her children was gone; gone for eternity. If there was an afterlife, would she see him again once she passed away? Would he ever be able to wrap his arms around his boys again? She hoped so, but ultimately remained unconvinced. Wanda sat down on the couch, suddenly feeling light-headed. It was now or never. Boys! Please come here. I need to discuss something with you, she called out. The sound of their little feet pounded down the stairs and through the kitchen before the toddlers emerged in the living room with much commotion. They crawled onto their mothers lap, looking into her face, as would curious bear cubs. Wandas mother joined them on the sofa, and began rubbing her daughters back, in anticipation of the painful conversation ahead. Wanda took a deep breath and began: Boys. You know how were always praying for Daddy before we go to sleep, because his work is so dangerous? Well, something sad happened last night. There was an accident at Daddys work and he was hurt so badly that he cant come back home to us. Surprisingly, neither of the boys had any reaction. Whether it was the shock of the statement, or their inability to grasp the bitter truth at their young age, Wanda did not know. They just sat there, staring into her face, unblinking. Finally, the older of the two spoke. Is Daddy dead? Are we never going to be able to see him again? Wanda nodded, tears lling her eyes. Daddys gone. Hes with the angels now. She spoke with a cheerfulness that fooled no one. The truth was, although she hoped there was a hereafter, she couldnt be sure, but she decided that at this critical moment giving hope to her children was the most loving thing she could do. Daddys looking down on you right now. Hes so proud of you both! So God took Daddy to be with him? asked the younger. Fearful that she would burst out into uncontrollable sobbing if she tried to speak, Wanda simply nodded her head again, as she ran her ngers through the toddlers hair. The confused little one was not done yet. As he continued speaking, agitation rose in his voice: Doesnt God know we werent done with our Daddy yet? We still needed him! God should have known that weve got a big pile of leaves outside, and that it would have been even bigger after today. I dont think God knows what hes doing. We still needed our Daddy!

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And with that, queerness chose another young boy, before he could learn what it was to become a white knight.

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Chapter 44 W
ith the dishes completed, Sylvia rejoined the group sitting around the kitchen table and resumed attending to the baby, who was handed-off by Robert. Standing up, he went to another room and returned with well-used paperback book. What most people fail to realize, he continued, is that society becomes homosexualized the precise moment that dark enlightenment is preferred over the Ancient Ways. He ipped through the bent pages of the book. Listen to what the Apostle Paul had to say on this matter:
From the creation of the world, God's invisible qualities, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly observed in what he made. As a result, people have no excuse. They knew God but did not praise and thank him for being God. Instead, their thoughts were pointless, and their misguided minds were plunged into darkness. While claiming to be wise, they became fools. They exchanged the glory of the immortal God for statues that looked like mortal humans, birds, animals, and snakes. For this reason God allowed their lusts to control them. As a result, they dishonor their bodies by sexual perversion with each other. These people have exchanged God's truth for a lie. So they have become ungodly and serve what is created rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen! For this reason God allowed their shameful passions to control them. Their women have exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones. Likewise, their men have given up natural sexual relations with women and burn with lust for each other. Men commit indecent acts with men, so they experience among themselves the punishment they deserve for their perversion. And because they thought it was worthless to acknowledge God, God allowed their own immoral minds to control them. So they do these indecent things. Their lives are lled with all kinds of sexual sins, wickedness, and greed. They are mean. They are lled with envy, murder, quarreling, deceit, and viciousness. They are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, haughty, arrogant, and boastful. They think up new ways to be cruel. They don't obey their parents, don't have any sense, don't keep promises, and don't show love to their own families or mercy to others. Although they know God's judgment that those who do such things deserve to die, they not only do these things but also approve of others who do them.

Monk showed me that homosexuality is simply a consequence of a society that has abandoned the Ancient Ways, explained Robert, who then refocused his attention squarely on Alex. But we mustnt be fooled into thinking that a homosexual lifestyle is all about being gay. When a husband or wife chooses the pursuit of a career over raising their children, they are practicing homosexuality. When a husband prefers hookers and lap-dancers to his wife, he is practicing homosexuality. And its the same thing when people prefer getting-off to porn rather than making love with their spouse.

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Homosexuality is a culture of death that points to the direct inuence of Lucifer and his angels. For if everyone in the world were gay, humanity would cease to exist! A thought suddenly came to Alex: Monk knew exactly what he was doing by sending them on this eld trip, Here was Robert a manly-man by all accounts who had been lost in the clutches a homosexual lifestyle, with nothing to look forward to but to die alone; leaving no living legacy behind. Had his own pornography addiction remained with him to the end of his life, would he not have died in the same way? It amazed him how everything was suddenly becoming clearer; how everything was clicking into place. But do not misunderstand me, said Robert, again zeroing-in on Alex. When queerness chooses a person like it did me gays must be loved back to a healthy relationship with the Great One and members of the opposite sex. This is what Monk did for me. He didnt judge me, but he didnt condone what I was doing either. Monk spent the time teaching me rather us the love of the Creator, and the truth found in his Ancient Words. On the other hand, there should be no tolerance to those who choose queerness. The charitable thing, would be to admit butch gays into high security mental institutions. The proper thing would be to imprison them and throw away the key. The Ancient Words reveal the sheer evil which drives butch gays. I am sure you are familiar with story of Sodom and Gomorrah, he said, nding his place in the book.
The two angels came to Sodom in the evening as Lot was sitting in the gateway. When Lot saw them, he got up to meet them and bowed with his face touching the ground. He said, "Please, gentlemen, why don't you come to my home and spend the night? You can wash your feet there. Then early tomorrow morning you can continue your journey." "No," they answered, "we'd rather spend the night in the city square." But he insisted so strongly that they came with him and went into his home. He prepared a special dinner for them, baked some unleavened bread, and they ate. Before they had gone to bed, all the young and old male citizens of Sodom surrounded the house. They called to Lot, "Where are the men who came to stay with you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them." Then Lot went outside and shut the door behind him. "Please, my friends, don't be so wicked," he said. "Look, I have two daughters who have never had sex. Why don't you let me bring them out to you? Do whatever you like with them. But don't do anything to these men, since I'm responsible for them." But the men yelled, "Get out of the way! This man came here to stay awhile. Now he wants to be our judge! We're going to treat you worse than those men." They pushed hard against Lot and lunged forward to break down the door. The men inside reached out, pulled Lot into the house with them, and shut the door.

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I learned that the spirit behind gay-pride is the same spirit which drove the men of Sodom to want to sodomize the Great Ones angels. Gay-pride is driven by butch gays who want to convert the world to homosexuality. They only put up with femmy gays like me because they enjoyed sodomizing us. When I make love with Sylvia, Robert winked at his wife who was grinning from earto-ear, while Alex and Meghan blushed it is all about mutual giving. When I give to her, and she gives me the gift of receiving me, life is the natural result; little Nemmy and the twins are proof of that. But sodomy is all about taking. Monk found me, when I was all used up. I had been taken from for so long, by so many, there was nothing left. He found Sylvia in a similar state. He took us from Bohemian Grove that summer night, and neither of us have ever been the same since. Meghan, who had been silently processing the words, now spoke up. When I was raped, I felt as though I had been stolen from. When I was unwilling to give that frat boy what he wanted, he just took it anyway. I can totally relate to what you are saying. Robert nodded. Sodomy will always be rape. The Great One did not create man to receive another man. Therefore sexually speaking a man has no capacity to transact with another man. The spirit behind homosexual sex is all about taking what was never meant to be given. The spirit behind rape is all about taking something that was never offered. America is currently being raped. Her spirit is being broken as sodomizers take from her that which was never offered, nor meant to be given. International banks like the Federal Reserve and many multinational corporations currently function according to the spirit of sodomy. There is nothing wrong with a company making a prot by providing a good or service. But when that corporation is so driven by prot motive that they no longer care about fairness, human rights, or proper stewardship over the environment, they become sodomizers; taking that which was never meant to be given. Evidence that America is currently being governed by the spirit of sodomy is her multitrillion dollar debt. No transaction took place between the American people and their leaders to amass that debt. It was money that was simply taken from them, and their children and grandchildren. You must understand! Fascist, butch gays, who derive their power from occult forces are now very close to achieving what Hitler failed to do: to create a New World Order where a race of super-humans will guide the destiny of all humanity. These superhumans are the Illumined Ones; and they are committed to achieving their goal even if it means raping every person who has been made subservient to them. On the surface, it seems rather hopeless. Western populations have become so hypnotized by materialism and secular humanism, they no longer attribute the obvious perversion our nation to spiritual causes, Robert said bitterly. A horrible evil is about to

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be unleashed upon the world, and for the most part, people seem to be caught up in their daily routines, as though life were normal. But life as normal is now over. It has been for some time. There is nothing normal about what these people do. I know because I had a part to play in their occult rituals. I permitted spiritually depraved perverts to steal my strength; to steal my manhood. It left me in a depleted, suicidal state of mind. If it werent for Monk, Im sure I would have been dead a long time ago. I daily thank the Great One for sending Monk to me. But where are the other men who are willing to stand up against evil? Where are the men who would give up their lives for the betterment others? The Messiah who is the true author of chivalry was the white knight who embraced all of humankind with his willingness to die for them. Monk, being the Messiahs servant, is simply doing what his master before him did. This is in deep contrast to the Illumined Ones who despise humanity. Think of it this way: The Messiah embraces innocent children. The Illumined Ones despise them, with a lust to feed off of their innocence. The Messiah embraces sinners like my wife and I. Organized religion despised us, and in so doing, drove us further away from the only person who could help us. The Messiah embraces life, and the creation of new life. Butch gays despise heterosexuals, and are committed to destroying the family. Do you not see the pattern here? The Messiah is willing to die in order to bring life and freedom, while the Illumined Ones live to rape, murder, and destroy. What can be done about this? asked Meghan, her voice heightened with concern. She felt a personal connection to Roberts plight. The raping of so many made her sick. If what you are saying is true, it must be stopped! I hope it can be stopped, said the balding man, his muscles rippling through his shirt. It may be too late. If that is the case, we can expect there will soon be a struggle between those who are committed to the Ancient Ways, and the Illumined perverts. Ironically, the blame for where we are at in history rests squarely upon organized religion. These parasites have co-opted the Messiahs message as a method of obtaining power and tremendous wealth. It doesnt matter if it is the Vatican or a Protestant mega-church. If they truly cared about the Messiahs cause, they would sell off their assets and give the proceeds to the poor. But it would be a cold day in hell before that ever happened. But where then, would people go to church? Alex did not like where the conversation was heading. Bashing butch gays was one thing, but bashing the church? Cummon!

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Robert gave him a disgusted look. Listen! Surely Monk has taught you that people wont start being the church until they stop going to church! Do you go to church? I did, Alex answered. And for how long did you go to church? Robert inquired. Over ten years. In that ten years, did you ever invite a hungry stranger into your home? Did you ever give clothes to a homeless person? Did you ever visit a random sick person in the hospital who wasnt connected to your church? Or how about visiting people who were in prison? I preached the word of God, Alex defensively avoided answering the question. Okay, you preached it. But did you do what it said? Did you do any of those things I mentioned? I cant say that I did, Alex nally admitted. Then surely you must understand the sheer idiocy of simply going to church Sunday-in and Sunday-out. Sure its nice to be part of a little Christian social club. But if that club isnt going out and sharing love and material resources with others who are in need, the Great One has no use for it, and neither do I. Its just religious illumination. Cant you see that organized religion is nothing but a tool of the Illumined Ones? Its prosperity preachers teach that the goal of religion is to become materially rich! Thats not the Ancient Ways, thats illumination! Other pastors ippantly preach that the world can go to hell, because all good Christians will be raptured into heaven before they will have to endure any suffering. The Ancient Ways teach us that our faith grows through suffering! Still others preach that every good Christian must be obedient to governments, even when they are complicit in wickedness. The Ancient Ways state that truly courageous men will stand up against evil, to ensure that fairness and justice are given to those who are the most vulnerable in society. Cant you see how organized religion transforms us into materialists who are willing to sacrice our children, in order experience a prosperous, comfortable life. Thats pretty harsh, man! said Alex, feeling a resistance build up within him. Youre spouting off a lot of generalizations there. Just look around you, offered Robert. Have the churches of organized religion protected our children? Or are they being fed to the wolves while were running around trying to accumulate as much stuff as we can? And in the midst of it all, we have the gaul to pat ourselves on the back for going to church each Sunday! he glared at Alex.

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If organized religion isnt working, whats the solution? Meghan intervened. Monk showed us from the Ancient Words, that we should have people in our home to share a meal, worship the Great One together, then pool our resources to assist others who are in need. Trust me, it works! I like it! said Meghan with an enthusiasm that caused Alex to bristle. I think I could go to a church like that! she exclaimed. No dear, Sylvia corrected, patting Meghans hand affectionately. You must remember we cant be the church if we continue going to it. Ah! Meghan acknowledged. Its going to take some time to get my head wrapped around that. We need to get our minds wrapped around it sooner than later, uttered Robert. I have seen, rst hand, the wickedness many of the people running our country are capable of. If the true followers of the Messiah refuse to peel the scales from their eyes soon, the streets of this country will be red with blood. Our blood. ***** Felicity and Elsie lay under the covers, cold and alone. Their bodies ached, their heads pounded, and they fought with dizziness. Though they had fallen asleep in the same bed the night before, they were now huddled in their own rooms, desperately seeking some warmth under several blankets, in an attempt to eradicate of the violent chills gripping their quivering bodies. The sudden onset of illness came as a surprise, for each had awakened to breakfast in the same way they always had throughout the months before. Under the supervision of the disinterested guard, a stoic matron had wheeled in a cart lled with fresh fruit and stacks of pancakes. Both girls used their healthy appetite to enjoy the early morning meal. Afterward, when the ve of them were sitting around contemplating how to ll another monotonous day in captivity, Elsie engaged the girls with a passionate plea: We cant keep lling our days watching TV! she argued. Were only masking the horrible reality of what is about to happen to us. Lets get on our knees and beg for God to help us. At least then, well be doing something constructive. Havent we done enough praying? one of the girls asked scornfully. Weve been praying with you and Felicity for months, and lots of good it has done. Were still stuck in this same hellhole, awaiting God knows what. Our time would be better spent trying

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to pick the lock on the front door. Whats the saying? God helps those who help themselves? The two others concurred. No offense to you or Felicity, but now is not the best time to be distracted by religion. We have to make the best use of the time we have left. One of us needs to constantly be working on the lock, while another sits behind the door with that heavy vase over there. If the guard comes through the door, we could smash him on the back of the head. We need to be praying! Elsie was distraught. The only one who can deliver us from this evil is the Messiah! Tell you what, Felicity interjected diplomatically. Elsie and I will pray, while you three work on the door. That way all of our bases will be covered. And with those last words, a shiver went through Felicity and Elsies bodies that only became worse as they prayed in the quiet bedroom. After several waves of nausea, the girls retreated to each of their respective beds, wondering how things could have gone from bad to worse. Petitioning the Great One as her body shuddered with cold, Felicity could hear one of the other girls in the living room comment, Im starting to get tired of those selfrighteous bitches. While she couldnt hear the responses clearly, the tone of the voices were loud enough for her to understand that the calm ve had ceased to exist. ***** George Talbott hobbled from his limousine into the United Nations Building, credentials dangling from his neck, ready for his conference with the chairmen of the the Council on Foreign Relations and the Trilateral Commission. This was friendly territory, and he was fairly condent the low-level operatives would graciously accept his resignation. A UN steward with a wheelchair attended to him, and began pushing him down a long hallway, which was out-of-bounds to the general public. Stop! the old industrialist commanded, as he passed by an open door. I want to go in there, he pointed a gnarled, shaking nger. But I cant accompany you sir, the steward objected, knowing the room was off-limits to common helpers like himself. I know that, growled Talbott. Just help me up, and wait from me on that bench over there. When Im ready, Ill call for you.

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The steward helped the frail man from the chair, and watched as he disappeared into the UN Meditation Room. The old industrialist chuckled silently when he saw Chairman Finklestein with his head bowed toward the large magnetite altar. The at-topped block in the center of the room rested directly upon bedrock, with the intent that it would tap into the energies of the earth. On a far wall hung a bizarre mural that was designed to help facilitate an altered state of consciousness. Getting charged up, are you Terry? Talbott asked quietly, breaking the silence of the room. The Chairmans head jolted up, and he came to his feet swiftly, a brief look of irritation ashing across his face. George! You startled me. Yes, I was just seeking guidance regarding our meeting today. Your resignation is coming at a bad time for us. Things are just about to become very exciting. Yes, it has taken a lot of planning to get us here. I have always been a visionary, Terry. My role was to see the future, and to build the infrastructure that would accommodate it. It will take men like you to see the Great Plan through to the end. So why are you resigning your seat? We all know youve been struggling with your health. But that shouldnt keep you from being honored as one of the forbearers who brought us to this point, commented the Chairman, as he brushed the dust from the knees of his nely-crafted suit trousers. My time has come to an end. I plan to go out of this world the way I came in. With nothing. There is no doubt in my mind, George, that you will make your ascension. Few people have committed their soul to bringing light to the world like you have. I just pray that in the next life, you will nd it in your heart to be our patron saint: the god who watches over us as we birth the New Age onto the earth. There are going to be some troublesome battles ahead, and well need your guidance. Bah! There is so very little youll need from an old fool like me, Talbott waved off the chairman. I am dying Terry. When I am gone, I will be gone for good. I wont be coming back. Finklestein eyed the old man in front of him curiously. He had obviously lost his senses. These were not the words of the legendary innovator who had made the once-hidden mysteries of the unknown so tangible to them all. No doubt, today would be a sad day at the United Nations. An icon in the campaign to bring enlightenment to the entire globe was faltering before his very eyes. May the Light Bearer hasten his ascension to relieve him of all confusion and pain so that he may rule over them, from above.

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The meeting between Talbott, the chairmen, and their assistants was unremarkable. The industrialist signed off on his letters of resignation and several non-disclosure agreements. Various men expressed their deep gratitude to him for his commitment to the Cause, and asked him to reconsider his resignation. Talbott ignored their groveling, focusing his attention on the sallow-faced man sitting at the back of the room. When he inquired as to who the observer was, he was informed that it was the Brotherhoods representative; no doubt, a man sent by the evercontrolling Brother Philip. Oh well, he would be visiting the Council of Thirteen next, and it was not a meeting he was looking forward to. The gathering concluded as the chairmen presented their hero with a large, oil-painted portrait of himself. He was told it would be hung in a hallway of the UN among similar paintings of other great philanthropists, who had so generously granted access to their vast storehouses of wealth to advance the cause of enlightenment. It was artwork worthy of feeding the res of hell, he thought.

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Chapter 45 A
s Sylvia bent over to feed the twins some mashed bananas, Alex once again found it troubling that he could not place the attractive woman. Hers was not a face nor a body he would quickly forget. Where did he know her from? His mind told him he had seen her at least once before. But where? He was about to ask if she had ever visited Camden Heights when Robert continued with his story. Bohemian Grove is like anything the Illumined Ones do. On the surface, it is advertised as a private getaway for the rich and powerful; and for hundreds of the uninitiated, that is precisely what it is. They drink beer, swim in the nude, and bag a few call-girls they sneak into the compound. They think nothing of the ceremony led by cloaked and hooded high priests where an efgy is consumed as a burnt offering in front of the statue of a giant owl. For them, it is just another drunk-fest summer-camp for the privileged. They burn up a human in front of an owl? Thats creepy. Whats the meaning of it? Alex was becoming drawn into the intrigue. The owl is a long-time symbol of the the Illuminati, Robert explained, and the efgy is supposed to be Dull-Care; the boring part of humankind that worries about the cares of this world. Apparently he needs to be burned up, in order for the partying to go on without a guilty conscience. Thats whats on the surface. Ritual is very important to the Illumined Ones. It is how they make their magic. Burning Dull-Care is all about making a sacrice out of those who care about the world we live in, and the desperate plight of human beings who are suffering through starvation and poverty. Those who care must be made into food for the owl goddess Lilith, who feeds off of these dullards as a means of heightening the sexual intensity of all who are in attendance. When you think of Bohemian Grove, think of Rome when Caligula was Caesar, multiplied by ten. When I had sex with members of cabinet, the joint-chiefs of staff, and the CEOs of some of the worlds most powerful companies, I thought my friends and I had made it to the big-leagues; that these men would look after us with their great wealth well into the future. In truth, they were only raping us of our life-force, as a method of heightening their connection with the sex-goddess Lilith. And after they had taken our life force, they deposited their inferior demons upon us. Perhaps youve heard of a game called Prisons and Serpents. In the game, you are constantly battling to acquire more powerful, mythical, spiritual entities, who are more capable of defeating the spiritual entities of your opponent. Truth be told, many of these entities can cause severe mental-emotional problems like depression.

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The ritual sex assists in acquiring more powerful entities, while providing an opportunity to shed their more problematic lesser demons. Some of these entities can be transfered through heterosexual intercourse, but most can only be transfered through sodomy. Hence why they ship in young gay men by the busload during the two weeks Bohemian Grove is in session. I was on the verge of suicide when Monk found me. The demons had become so noisy in my head that I wanted to kill myself, just to silence them. Monk, wearing a wig and dressed like a rich tourist grabbed me by the arm as I was going to my quarters one night after being raped by members of the German chancellors ofce. He asked me, Do you want to be free? I jumped at the offer and havent been the same since. How were you made clean of all the demonic attachments, asked Meghan, wondering if anything had come onto her when she had been violated. When I was reborn into the Ancient Ways, the Messiah removed every last entity. Through the continual process of rebirth, which was initiated at the monastery in Central America, all of the doorways giving the demons access on my life were also closed. So now, I sit before you as a complete heterosexual man, with a beautiful wife, and wonderful children, with hope for the future. What an amazing story! Meghan proclaimed. Thank you so much for being vulnerable with us. It made all the difference. Alex nodded in agreement, but failed to speak. He had spent years of his life and thousands of dollars going to seminary to make something of his life by becoming a pastor. First Monk, and now this man seemed to think that such efforts didnt amount to much. This nonsense of telling people not go to church would only put him out of future business. I have to run now, said Robert, pushing back his chair. Gotta to be at work in half-anhour. Now Sylvia will get the chance to ll you in on her half of the story. It was very nice meeting the both of you. What do you do for work? Alex inquired of their departing host. I work at a sporting goods factory in town. We manufacture hunting blinds, tarps, and tents among other things. It can be a little monotonous working on a production line sometimes, but it pays the bills. With the Great One now at the center of everything I do, life never stops being an adventure. As Monk always says, when life stops being an adventure, something other than the Great One has become my God. *****

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I only count three of you. Where are the other two? asked the guard, as he accompanied the matron who was delivering lunch. Theyre sick in bed, replied one of the girls. You may want to get a doctor. They dont look too good, said another. Weve been keeping our distance, cause none of us want to get it. A look of annoyance crossed the guards face, as he went down the hallway to the bedrooms. Felicity murmured something unintelligible when he put his hand to her forehead. Perspiration soaked her hair, and her body shook with the chills. After peaking in on Elsie, he dialed his cell phone in a panic. Yeah boss. We need to get a doctor down here. Two of em are burning up with fever. You may want to move out the others. If whats going around is contagious, there could be trouble... Okay... Ill be expecting him then. Half-an-hour later, a sloppily dressed man with disinterested eyes entered the compound, carrying a leather satchel. The guard waited outside each of the bedrooms, as the doctor pulled on latex gloves and donned a mask over his face to diagnose the ailing girls. These two really should be in the hospital hooked up to an I.V. he commented to the guard. Their temperatures are over 103, and theyre not replacing uids. What do you want me to do? Another phone call. The warden says to give them something that will bring down the fever. Well make sure they stay hydrated, he relayed. Is there any danger of contagion? Just tell the others to keep washing their hands. Ill give them the strongest medicine I have, and will come back to check on them tomorrow. Call me before you come, suggested the watchman, scrawling a number onto a wrinkled slip of paper. Sometimes Im out running errands, he said with a knowing smile. One could not really call having a cold beer in the bar down the street, while feeding quarters into a slot machine, running errands. After the doctor left, the guard stood in the open door leading to the outside world and all its freedom. When those girls wake up, he addressed the others, youll need to make sure they get a drink from time-to-time. You understand? They nodded, and he pulled the door shut; the lock clicking loudly as it closed.

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The girls argued for the next ten minutes regarding who would risk their own health to play nursemaid. Finally, they agreed that if the ailing girls were that thirsty, God could get them a drink of water. It would be most important for the rest of them to remain healthy, if they were ever going to get out of their predicament alive. ***** The boys had settled down. Finally! They were now upstairs playing with toy cars and blocks with her mother. Wanda, with puffed-up eyes and a raw nose, sat alone at the kitchen table considering the future. If only she had trusted Jack. He might have been sitting across from her right now. She squinted her eyes, staring into space, trying to imagine the laugh lines on his face, and the spark in his eyes. Her ruminations were interrupted by the doorbell. Senator Charles Stanbridge and what appeared to be a private bodyguard didnt wait to be invited in. They pushed into the foyer the instant she opened the door. Wanda! Stanbridge exclaimed, clinging to her tightly. I am so sorry! I had no way of knowing something like this would happen. After he relaxed his embrace, Wanda motioned toward the couch. Please. Come and sit down, Senator. This is an unexpected surprise. The bodyguard, wearing sunglasses and a dark suit disappeared into the next room, moving from window-to-window, while Wanda and the senator sat in the living room. Whats up with him? she asked, indicating the man roving through the house. There have been threats, Wanda. Im calling off the election campaign and have decided not to run for another term. Jack was in the process of tugging at a what appeared to be a loose thread; an isolated case of corruption in the Agency. When we met the other day, I had no idea that the thread he was about to pull would unravel the entire fabric of the Bureau. It would have been the beginning of the end for an empire. Why not expose it, Charley? Why not use your seniority and inuence to push through an investigation? Wanda inquired. They say it was suicide, but you and I both know they killed Jack. He nodded afrmatively with a look of compassion on his face. I received an envelope on my desk this morning, photographically highlighting some of the less than stellar moments of my career. Im ashamed to admit it, but Im an imperfect man, and have

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given into temptation on more than once occasion during my time in ofce. If it ever came out, it would do irreparable damage to my family. Kind of like this? Wanda pushed a manilla envelope across the coffee table. I saw some of these this morning, the Senator said, ipping through the photos. They were included in my package along with photos of Jack and I having lunch, and some others concerning myself that I dont care to discuss. Its all part of their diabolical game to send me the message that if I pursue this any further, I may be next. Those photos of Jack by the way are fakes. I had them checked out and theyre nothing more than Agency-quality photo-editing. The woman in the pictures is a historian at the Congressional Library who was lling Jacks mind with all kinds of nonsense. My people checked her out and trust me, there was nothing inappropriate taking place between your husband and that crazy old bird. While Wanda was gratied that there had been no cheating in her marriage, she was grieved that she had not chosen to believe Jack. So whats going to be your next move, Charley. What are you going to do? The Senator shifted uncomfortably in his seat, subconsciously gathering his coat around him. Ill be putting out a press release by the end of the day stating that I will be resigning from ofce immediately due to an unforeseen medical condition. It will force a by-election, but the Republican Committee already has another strong candidate waiting in the wings. Ill take enough time off to convince the public that I am struggling with a tragic illness, and will then restart my law practice. Maggie and I spoke this morning. She knows there are threats against my life, but shes still in the dark about most of my past indiscretions. I would like it to stay that way, if possible. She fully supports my resignation, and she was onboard with what I am going to propose to you next. Whats that Charlie? We would like you and the boys to move out to the compound to live in our guest house for as long as you like. That is incredibly kind! Wanda uttered, tears welling-up in her eyes. But Im not sure that I can accept. Although she initially hesitated at the generous offer, she would nally conclude that having some peace of mind regarding her familys provision was far more important than her foolish pride.

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Nonsense! In many ways I feel responsible for Jacks death. If I hadnt given him the phone number to that activist group, he might still be alive. Supporting you until you can get back onto your feet is the best way I know of honoring him. He was a better man than me, Wanda, Stanbridge continued. I told him to resign, and that Id nd him a new job. Hell, look what I am doing right now. Instead of facing corruption and dealing with it, I am running away like a dog with its tail between his legs. And why? Because I have too much pride to admit that Ive been compromised! Jack, on the other hand, possessed a noble heart and was lled with raw courage, the senator praised. These days, it is a rare thing to nd a man outside of those in the Muslim world who is willing to die for what he believes in.

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hey said their goodbyes to the work-bound Robert, and sat down to a simple lunch of soft cheese, cucumbers, and tomatoes on rye bread. Alex, for one, was glad that the burly husband had left. People with such black-and-white views irritated him. At least Monk would be pleased to know the fellow was incapable of being inuenced by the former pastors traditional views on religion. The twins played on the living room oor, while the adults made themselves comfortable on the well-used love-seat and sofa. Nemmy was breast-feeding again; a draped blanket providing some modesty to the process. But it didnt hinder Alex from being mesmerized by Sylvias sultry presence. He was certain that he recognized her from some earlier time in his life. But from where? It was a question that was about to be answered. I too, was ready to end my life when Monk found me, she began, while arranging strands of platinum blond hair behind her ear. Like Robert said, we were both in bad shape; and had gone beyond hitting rock bottom. Those who attend Bohemian Grove are men of means. They know they can have anything they want, and so they take freely. Just as they stole from Robert, they also stole from me; only my story is somewhat different. I grew up in a suburb south of Los Angeles in a fairly normal household. That is, until mom and dad divorced my rst year of high school, and my mom was forced to go back to work to pay the bills. All she could get was shift work at night, so as the oldest, I was stuck at home taking care of three kids under the age of ten. This was a real bummer when it came to hanging out with my friends. One Friday night after I put the kids to bed, I snuck out of the house, and rode my bike closer to downtown where one of my girlfriends was having a party. I had a few drinks, talked to some boys from school, and was back at home in a couple of hours. But when I checked on this kids, Tommy the oldest boy of the family was missing. Tears began to form in the corners of Sylvias eyes as she continued. I frantically searched the house, and couldnt nd him. Checking the garage, I found that his bike was missing. Turns out my eight year-old brother was still awake when I left, and had chased me into town on his bike. I sat up all night waiting for him to come back. He never did. The next day, we identied his body at the morgue. He had been struck dead by a car at a busy intersection just blocks from where I had been raising a glass with my friends. Meghan groaned, holding her hands to her face. How horrible! I am so sorry!

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Not as sorry as I was, said Sylvia, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. My mother wouldnt forgive me, and I couldnt forgive myself. From there on in, my life became a downward spiral, of booze, drugs, and boys. After high school, I left home and went to college. A friend of mine told me she was paying her way through school by stripping. I thought, what the hell, what could it hurt. Crazy thing was, I was good at it. I didnt even have any nerves. I eventually worked up to a classy place in LA, shaking what the good Lord gave me for excellent cash. The money was so good, I dropped out of college, and began working out and tanning during the day. The money became even better. Then one night after the show was over, a woman from Playtoyz Magazine approached me, stating that based on what she had just seen, theyd like to put me under contract. I signed on the dotted line, thinking that this was going to be my big modeling break. You didnt! Meghan gasped. Alex was sitting back, watching the interchange of the two women when it suddenly hit him. Shocked, he eyed the woman opposite him, up and down. Her hair had been a regular blond color then. Yes, there was the mole above her lip. Lovely small ears. Graceful neck. Sculpted calves. An enhanced chest. This was Samantha Boswell! Woman of his dreams, and of fantasies too numerous to count! Alex! Alexander! Anybody home? Meghan called out, nally getting his attention. Sorry... he bumbled, embarrassed that he had been caught staring. I was just daydreaming. It was an unfortunate choice of words. Meghan shook her head in disgust and directed her attention back to Sylvia. What happened next? Though Sylvia had witnessed the awkward moment between the engaged couple in its entirety, she glossed it over, pretending that Alex was not even in the room. This had happened hundreds of times in the past, and would go on, well into the future. That men who recognized her from the internet would ogle, was only one of the painful consequences of her earlier misdeeds. Maybe when she was nally an old and grey; perhaps then, people would no longer be able to detect the resemblance. After my rst pictorial, the Playtoyz founder, Stuart Stepner, made me one of his favorite girls. By this time in my life, I had been with over thirty men, and had disrobed before thousands. But it was only after meeting with Stuart that I began to understand something of the nature of what I was doing.

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Stepner, was turning 75 at the time, and would gather his faves as he called us for a bi-weekly romp. Though the old perv was hopped up on pills to make him functional, it still wasnt enough. He would have a few of us simulate lesbian sex, while another was on top of him. And while all that was going on, his complete attention was focused on the big screen TV that was playing a video of gay men having intercourse. Talk about confusing! I played along for almost a year, knowing where my bread was being buttered. But when my contract was through, I got out. Fast! I continued to date wealthy and important men, and began to learn their preferences and their patterns. Once I gured out what it was they really wanted, I channeled everything I had learned into my various roles of the lms I starred in. So what do men really want? Meghan wondered with a laugh. Alex stirred restlessly in the corner, wondering if he should excuse himself to take a walk or a cold shower. Here was one of his fantasy girls, Samantha Boswell, telling his equally gorgeous ance about what men wanted. The only y in the ointment was the infant suckling at the former porn stars breast. Such innocence did not t into the picture he wasnt trying too hard not to imagine. There are two types of men in this world. Those who would look away if they accidentally happened upon you when you were naked, and those who would probe you with their eyes, imagining what they could take from you. The men who would choose to look away want a woman who will be very their own. They want a wife, and a mother for their children. They want to work hard to provide a home that is suitable for their beautiful bride. As king over their family they want a queen, who will govern with them. These men take pride in their wives, and the strength and loveliness they possess. The men who probe you with their eyes, have been brainwashed by the Illumined Ones to become takers. Ive seen it a million times in strip clubs or when someone recognizes me on the street. They suddenly get x-ray eyes, picturing every crevice of my body, imagining how they could exploit it. And I cant really blame them, because in my case, I willfully took off my clothes and put myself in their line of sight. These men want to be teased. They dont want things to go too fast, because when its all over, they will be left with nothing; all over again. They want to believe that they are a big enough stud to conquer someone so well-endowed. So you have to make them believe like they are the only man in the world for you. In my case, I had to make millions of them feel that way. Alex looked at his shoes, wishing he were anywhere but here. Had she been insinuating that he was a taker because he had been caught staring? Was he? So the boy who raped me was a taker? inquired Meghan.

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Absolutely! As Monk taught us, the spirit behind all illumination is one of taking. How so? inquired Alex, hoping the discussion was moving away from sex talk. The spirit of illumination is the spirit of pride. Do you remember the words Robert just read to you? She took the battered paperback book from the coffee table and ipped it open.
They knew God but did not praise and thank him for being God. Instead, their thoughts were pointless, and their misguided minds were plunged into darkness. While claiming to be wise, they became fools. They exchanged the glory of the immortal God for statues that looked like mortal humans, birds, animals, and snakes. For this reason God allowed their lusts to control them. As a result, they dishonor their bodies by sexual perversion with each other.

The Illumined Ones do not praise or thank the Great One, because they want all of the glory for themselves, Sylvia explained. In their pride, they take glory that never belonged to them in the rst place. The spirit of illumination, the spirit of pride, and the spirit of butch homosexuality are all one in the same: they take that which was never meant to be given. This is in contrast with the Ancient Ways, where the Messiah demonstrated humility and self-sacrice. Through his life and death he illustrated that anytime a person sacrices themselves for the betterment of someone else, glory is given to the Great One. There is an immense difference between givers and takers. Hollywood as an instrument of the Illumined Ones has been teaching Americans to be takers for years. There is no greater of evidence of this than the dysfunctional nature of most American families. The Illumined Ones, and their butch gay operatives, have set out to destroy the family because it was the part of the Ancient Ways that taught people how to be givers. Robert and I make daily sacrices on behalf of each other and our children. As givers to each other, we make up a healthy, loving family. But if one of us were to become a taker, stress would enter the relationship, and we would become dissatised. Compulsively dissatised people frequently get divorced because they assume something better is around the corner. Think of it this way: Pride leads to taking. Taking leads to dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction leads to compulsion. And compulsion leads to the imprisonment of addiction. Its like this, Sylvia offered. The United States has an obesity epidemic. At rst glance, you might think that it is because people eat so much food because they are such takers. But truth be told, the taking did not begin with them.

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The nature of illumination is to centralize everything, because it allows for great control by fewer people. Therefore, small family farms were run out of business by large factory farms which were operated by takers that were predominately motivated by prot. For them, the cheapest way to manufacture food, was to work the same elds with heavy equipment year-after-year, spraying on chemical fertilizers and pesticides, to ensure large harvests. This act of raping the land produces food that has few minerals and vitamins which the body needs, because the soil is never given an opportunity to recover. Therefore, when it comes to consuming the nutrient-lacking food grown on this depleted land, it doesnt matter if youve eaten until youre full, because your body is screaming to you that it is starving. Therefore, the takers on the production side of things have created takers out of consumers. And with the ill-health that follows, consumers end up being more dependent on the medical and pharmaceutical industries. Before you know it, a population that was once healthy, prosperous, and free, has been reduced to sick people who are indebted, and reliant upon the government for health services. That is seriously twisted! Meghan exclaimed. How on earth did you learn about all of this? Monk taught us, but I learned this very same principle from the porn industry. Alex was about to make a break for the bathroom, but decided against it. Was she about to reveal something that would further unlock the compulsion that had held him captive these many years? The porn industry operates in a similar way. All the studios are funded by organized crime in one way or another, and these maa syndicates are all essentially controlled by one group which is headquartered in New York City. Girls are brought in from everywhere; strip clubs, the streets, college campuses, you name it. They are made promises for legitimate careers and big money. Wined and dined initially, they are eventually introduced to drug culture. Then they are raped over and over by the takers, for paltry sums of money, which they need in order to support their rent and burgeoning drug habits. The girls images are sold, and are eventually freely available on the internet, where millions of men, rape them all over again. If the girls are the elds which are being raped, the porn addicts are the consumers, getting fat off of imagery that leaves them hungry, always wanting more. And the circle of taking has been made complete. The Illumined Ones message of taking has worked its way into every aspect of American culture, right down to the churches.

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Wait a minute here! Alex interrupted. She may have been the object of many of his fantasies, but that didnt grant her the right to blaspheme the church! What was it with these people? I think youre going to have a hard time lumping the church in with fat folks and porn! At this, Sylvia glared at him with scorn in her eyes. Whats your deal?! Were here to help you, not ght you. Hes a pastor, explained Meghan. Oh! Well that makes more sense! What does that mean?! Alex was about to lose it. It means youve been brainwashed by organized religion; an institution the Illumined Ones have dominated for hundreds of years. Is that so? he sulked. Unfortunately, it is, Sylvia said cheerfully. There is nothing worse than takers who disguise themselves as the Messiahs givers. Im having troubles making the connection, Alex stated angrily. Organized religion is lled with takers. How many people go to church, to take something away from it, whether it be a message or whatever? The church workers pass around the offering plate to take your money. The church headquarters takes their cut of the cash. And everyone is left wanting more. Alex couldnt argue with that. In seminary, he had been taught that when it came down to people volunteering their time in the church, 20% of the people did 80% of the work. Sylvia plodded on. The spirit of pride, illumination, and butch homosexuality are all one in the same: they all boil down to the spirit of taking. What about the homosexuals that arent butch? Alex scrutinized. She may be pleasant to look at, but to hear her speak was making him mad. Some of the most giving people I know are fem-gays, said Sylvia. A bunch of them meet every Sunday morning right here in this home, to learn what the Ancient Ways say about their compulsion. I still dont get it, he scoffed. Youre telling me butch-gays are bad, but fem-gays are good? Isnt it all the same in Gods eyes?

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Sylvia remained unmoved by his veiled attack. She had been trained too well in the Ancient Ways during her rebirthing process to fall prey to such goading. The answer to that is both yes and no. Homosexuality is a sin. This is clearly spelled out in the Ancient Words. But it is no different than the members of your congregation who are gossips, alcoholics, or porn addicts. I believe the Great One views butch gays and fem gays differently. Fem gays who are willing to humble themselves admitting that their attraction to the same sex is not part of the Great Ones plan for them will nd the Messiahs compassion, mercy, and healing. And what about the butch-gay that humbles himself? Alex asked smugly. There is no such thing, Sylvia smiled. Pride, illumination, and butch homosexuality are all of the same taking spirit. Gay-Pride is driven by butch-gays. This pride makes them incapable of giving glory to the Great One. Therefore, they are turned over to a life of unfullled taking. A butch-gay who is willing to humble himself before the Great One, becomes a fem-gay who is seeking healing from the Messiah. People who proudly remain butch-gays are evil, and the Great One is against them. Is that so? Alex continued his line of questioning. There was no way this sensual babe could answer for all of the claims she was making. She had to be just making it all up on the y. She red back. As a pastor, I assume you are familiar with the Ancient Words? she asked while ipping some pages. Consider these words, in light of our current conversation.
God opposes arrogant people, but he is kind to humble people.

Your religious brainwashing wont let you see the truth. God doesnt hate gays. He has positioned himself against butch homosexuals not because they are gay, but because they are proud. Proud people are takers. Proud people want to rule over others, telling them what they should believe, because they know better. Isnt that what youre doing with me right now? he maneuvered in for the kill. Perhaps you havent noticed, she said gathering up the beaten paperback in front of her,but Monk has trained us not to spout off our own opinions. Everything we believe and say is according to this book. She turned the pages like all of the brown cloaked clerics proteges: with precise efciency. These words should be familiar to you.
Every Scripture passage is inspired by God. All of them are useful for teaching, pointing out errors, correcting people, and training them for a life that has God's approval.

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If my thoughts and opinions strayed from this book, I would end up being easy prey for the politically correct values propagated by the Illumined Ones. Wouldnt it be devastating if I claimed to be the Messiahs representative, but taught the imprisoning values of illumination rather than the freedom found in the Ancient Ways? her eyes ashed. Might that be just like the prophet Ezekiel described?
The LORD spoke his word to me. He said, "Son of man, prophesy against the shepherds of Israel. Prophesy to these shepherds. Tell them, 'This is what the Almighty LORD says: How horrible it will be for the shepherds of Israel who have been taking care of only themselves. Shouldn't shepherds take care of the sheep? You eat the best parts of the sheep, dress in the wool, and butcher the nest sheep. Yet, you don't take care of the sheep. You have not strengthened those that were weak, healed those that were sick, or bandaged those that were injured. You have not brought back those that strayed away or looked for those that were lost. You have ruled them harshly and violently. So they were scattered because there was no shepherd. When they were scattered, they became food for every wild animal. My sheep wandered over all the mountains and on every high hill. They were scattered throughout the whole earth. No one searched or looked for them. "'So, you shepherds, listen to the word of the LORD. As I live, declares the Almighty LORD, because there is no shepherd, my sheep have become prey. My sheep have become food for every wild animal. My shepherds haven't searched for my sheep. They have taken care of only themselves, not my sheep. So, you shepherds, listen to the word of the LORD. This is what the Almighty LORD says: I am against the shepherds. I will demand that they hand over my sheep. I won't let them take care of my sheep anymore, and they will no longer take care of only themselves. I will rescue my sheep from their mouths, and my sheep will no longer be their food. "'This is what the Almighty LORD says: I will search for my sheep myself, and I will look after them. As a shepherd looks after his ock when he is with his scattered sheep, so I will look after my sheep. I will rescue them on a cloudy and gloomy day from every place where they have been scattered. I will bring them out from the nations, gather them from the countries, and bring them to their own land. I will take care of them on the mountains of Israel, by the streams, and in all the inhabited places of the land. I will feed them in good pasture, and they will graze on the mountains of Israel. They will rest on the good land where they graze, and they will feed on the best pastures in the mountains of Israel. I will take care of my sheep and lead them to rest, declares the Almighty LORD. I will look for those that are lost, bring back those that have strayed away, bandage those that are injured, and strengthen those that are sick. I will destroy those that are fat and strong. I will take care of my sheep fairly.

Alex was disgusted. Who was this common whore to be speaking to him in this way? His face began to ush, and a vein in his forehead pulsated violently. In this brief conversation she had now eluded to the fact that he had been brainwashed by religion, that he was a taker, a teacher of wickedness, and a wolf in sheeps clothing. He hadnt received several degrees in theology to be spoken to in this way by an uneducated prostitute. Glowering, he was about to respond, when she beat him to the punch.

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Alex, she said with a pleasantness that made him want to vomit. Will you be kind enough to burp Nemmy here and watch the twins while Meghan and I take a moment to spiritually address what was taken from her, during the time of her violation? Yeah, Ill watch them, he grumbled. Then, in a vain attempt to get in the last word, he asked: What kind of name is Nemmy anyway? Its an odd thing to name a kid. Meghan gave him a look that expressed both confusion and disgust. What was wrong with Alex? Why was he being so rude? This sweet woman was about to give her a gift that would bring healing to the wounds that had come upon her the last time she had been with a man. Didnt he realize that she was about receive a precious gift that would bless their marriage bed? Sylvia did not allow the comment to sting; she could read Alexander like a book, and would deal with him later. Nemmy is just his nickname, she explained. His given name is Nehemiah, which means, the Great One comforts. Thousands of years ago, after the walls of Jerusalem had been destroyed and the Hebrews were exiled to Babylon, the King of Persia permitted Nehemiah to return to rebuild the walls. It was a process so fraught with danger, they built with one hand, while holding their swords in the other. Robert and I are committed to seeing that Nemmy grows up to be a courageous, giving man, such as this. ***** George Talbott was feeling relieved and energized after his meeting with the chairmen of the Council on Foreign Relations and the Trilateral Commission. It seemed the Great One had paved an effortless road for him to navigate during his day in New York. If his meeting with the Council of Thirteen went as smoothly, he could be out of the city within a couple of hours, and back home on time for a late supper. He smiled to himself as he rode the long elevator ride to the penthouse ofces on top of the glass, Manhattan skyscraper. Alexander had asked to him to be his best man! That was a rst! No one had ever honored him in such a personal way before. Life was beginning to change for the better, just as he was on his home stretch. Could it be that as he shed these afliations from his past, he would experience an even greater freedom? Maybe with such burdens gone, his body would defeat the cancer once and for all. Maybe he would have a future with his own children and grandchildren after all these years. The receptionist took his coat and ushered him into the conference room, where he sat alone. She brought him a cup of tea and a biscuit, which he nibbled on, until the others

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led in from a door which led from Brother William Wellingtons ofce. There must have been a gathering of the Council before the meeting, Talbott assumed. The Brothers seated themselves on one side of the table, bringing a brief moment of terror to the old industrialist as he recounted his dream. Was it deja-vu? Just as the meeting was about to begin, the pale-faced man who he had spotted at the back of the room at the UN, slid inside the door, and stood quietly in a corner. George Talbott, Brother William began reading from a script with formality. It is with great sadness that we have convened this Council today. As a guiding adept in our Craft, and an inspiration to every man who seeks the light, we, as a Council are dismayed by your decision to depart from our Cause, just prior to the initiation of our Great Plan. While we are prepared to release you as per your written request to the Council we would like to be able to ask a few questions to better ascertain the basis for your early departure. Go ahead, said Talbott. Have there been any shifts in your philosophical outlook that would precipitate your departure as one of the Eyes of our Craft? asked William. None, he lied. The tenets of the Craft still ring true in the heart beating within this breast. The Brother continued. Will you remain steadfastly loyal to the oaths you made to our Great Fraternity, even after your heart beats no more? Yes, Talbott afrmed, feeling like a school child who was crossing his ngers as he responded. With a third and nal question, Brother William closed the meeting: Who is your Worshipful Master? To whom do you pledge your undying loyalty? I bow to the Light Bearer, bringer of radiant truth to the souls of men. To him we each owe a debt of gratitude. For he suffered great through Yahwehs hate, that he may bring bright wisdom to the hearts of all men who are willing to learn. Well spoken, dear friend, enunciated the leader of the group. With that we a nished. Talbott exhaled in relief. Praise be to the Great One! One last thing, said the Brother evenly. Before the meeting is dismissed, I would like you to explain to us why you are leaving; for the record of course. I am an old man, Talbott looked into each of the mens faces. I have nothing more to offer the Fraternity but a cancerous pile of bones. My decision to leave is based on my

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curiosity to uncover even greater mysteries upon my death. Our grand tradition states that every adept will ascend to become an elevated master once death has claimed our frail, eshly shell. I long to be a scout for the masters in the next life. But in order to do so, I must rst become a wanderer. I am asking each of you, to set me free, that I may wander. Are there any objectors among you gentlemen? asked William of the group. We do not object, they said as one man. As Grand Master of the Brotherhood, I declare that you, George Talbott, are released from your covenant with the Craft, including your seat at Bilderberg. We commit your soul to wander in the next life, as a scout for all elevated masters. But with this comes a warning. While you are free to wander through the next life, you remain bound by the oaths of secrecy, afrmed by you when you joined our Great Fraternity. Is this acceptable to you? It is, agreed Talbott, certain that he was just ve minutes away from a nap in the comfortable reclining seat of his limousine. Then our meeting is adjourned. Gentlemen, please approach George for a nal handshake and farewell. We wish thee well, wandering soul! Somberly, the Council of Thirteen shook hands with the old man and returned through the door to the private ofce, leaving only William and the anemic-looking man who was standing in the corner of the conference room. The Brother took Talbotts hand, staring deeply into his eyes. Good luck old friend. It takes a special soul to commit to a life of wandering. He then gestured toward the other man, who now approached them. Mr. Duke here will assist you to your car which will be waiting out front. We shall miss you, George. We had a great run together. The old industrialist nodded, and hobbled toward the lobby; the agent in tow. Finally! This chapter of his life was over. Forever! But instead of feeling relieved, he felt troubled. It was a nagging sensation similar to what someone might feel when they left their home, after forgetting to turn off the stove. What was it? He began making a mental catalogue of the things that would cause him to feel unsettled. Was it that he had mouthed the words declaring his allegiance to Lucifer? That couldnt be it, could it? The Great One after all knew what was in his heart. There was really no point in being martyred if it was not necessary. Brother Williams questions had come as a surprise, and he had simply fallen back on the standard answers he had recited my times in the past. Surely the Great One would understand that it was merely a means of getting through a dicey inquisition.

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For months now, George Talbott had been begging to hear the Great Ones voice as clearly as Monk did. So it came as no small consolation to him, that as the elevator began descending, he heard what seemed to be an audible voice coming from the core of his ailing being.
THE EARTH WAS CREATED BY MY WORDS. WHAT DID YOU JUST CREATE THROUGH YOURS?

Oh no!!! Talbott shouted in a panic, his complexion going white cold. Whats wrong? The Duke wondered, looking alarmed. I must go back up immediately! the old man commanded. Not so fast old man. Youre coming with me. ***** For hours Felicity faded in and out of consciousness. She nally awoke and made an effort to call out for water. But with her throat swollen and sore, the most she could muster was a hoarse whisper. Sitting up, her world began spinning, and she fought the urge to throw-up. She desperately needed a drink. Rolling off the mattress onto the oor, she got to her knees, and pushed herself to a standing position. All was blurry and echoed strangely as she shufed to the kitchen, making her wonder if she was having an out-of-bodyexperience. As the luke-warm, chlorinated tap water reached her stomach, she thought she would be sick again. But thirst, overcame the feelings of nausea and she continued to drink. Relling the glass, she eased down the hallway, oblivious to the three girls in the living room who were covering their faces with their sleeved arms in an attempt to avoid contagion. Felicity peered into Elsies room, and could make out a small, trembling gure curled up in a ball on the mattress against the wall. Here, she said, running her ngers through sweat-soaked hair. You need to drink something. The younger girl mumbled something, and tried sitting up. Felicity steadied the small body, and held the glass to her lips. Elsie gulped down the cup of water, and immediately curled back into the fetal position.

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Though she remained thirsty, Felicity did not have the strength to rise. She lay on the bed next to her friend, and grasping her small hand, fell into a deep sleep. In a dream that followed, she and Elsie were at a spa, each covered with a towel, lying face down on a massage table. Madame Chantalle was taking turns kneading the tight muscles of their backs, laughing quietly while telling a story. In the next scene, both girls were in a hot tub, bubbles bubbling, and steam creating perspiration on their faces. A radiant light proceeded down a hallway, and drew brighter as it emerged into the steam-lled room. The soft, glowing luminescence surrounded a lithe young man of average build, who walked backwards toward them, shielding his face away from their nakedness. Handing each of them a warm, uffy towel, he continued to divert his eyes, gazing toward the ceiling. After Felicity and Elsie had wrapped their bodies in the long towels, the gentle-looking man faced them. With a smile that erased all fear, he calmly spoke: You arent alone. I am sending help. Be ready, for she will soon arrive. Suddenly, there was a loud, echoing boom! and Felicity awoke, startled by the noise. One of the other girls had pulled the bedroom door closed, sending the room into complete darkness. It didnt matter. For once in long while, Felicity Morgan had a ray of hope. ***** Alexander Putnam III licked his wounds while half-heartedly burping little Nemmy and playing with the twins. He wasnt certain of what was going on in the other room between Meghan and Sylvia, but he was damned sure it was taking way too long. He hadnt come all of this way just to babysit for a homo and a hooker. Finally, the girls emerged from the kitchen, the tracks of tears still evident on both of their faces. The change in Meghans appearance was noticeable. There was an air of lightness about her, and her green eyes shimmered with vulnerable purity. Alex caught himself staring; in disbelief that this beautiful creature would be his wife. Alexander, Sylvias pleasant voice tore through his dreamy thoughts like a dull knife. Youre next. Ordinarily, Robert would take care of this. But since hes gone and you have to leave so soon, were going to have a little talk over here. Well leave the door between the rooms wide open for appropriateness sake. Bring the book on the coffee table with you. Passing off the infant to Meghan, Alex followed Sylvia to the kitchen, mumbling under his breath while ghting the urge to strangle the glamorous bitch. He didnt know why,

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but his one-time fantasy girl had propelled him into a very dark place. And try as he might, he couldnt even ease the pain by recalling what she looked like with her clothes off. The illusion that had once captivated his private thoughts, was now replaced by the reality of who she was as a real person. Positioning herself, so that she was in full view of Meghan, Sylvia looked up at Alex and whispered: I forgive you for all the times you fantasized about me. What?! He could not believe her presumption. Dont play stupid, Alexander. Ive been out of the business for awhile now, but I can instantly tell when someone has bonded with my image. Believe it or not, there is a spiritual tie that can only be broken when you confess, and I forgive. Alex recoiled. This is crazy! If you hadnt been in front of the camera, I would have never bonded with your image in the rst place. Yet, Im the one who needs to confess? Youre right of course, she nodded. I confess that enticing you with my nakedness was not only an offense against you, but also against the Great One. For all of the grief my actions brought into your life, I ask for your forgiveness. Done, Alex relented. I forgive you. And? He rolled his eyes as he began rattling off what he thought she wanted to hear. I confess that fantasizing about you was wrong. Im sorry. And I forgive you, she said, her eyes lled with gracious kindness. You know, you have a pretty special girl out there, and she will be true to you, right to the end. But if youre going to lead and protect her, youre going to need to get your crap together. Meaning what? He didnt need these wild accusations. Meaning that youre a man distracted by side issues. As a pastor, you may think your biggest problem is to avoid all outward appearances of evil. But this is only a symptom of the illumined path you have chose to walk. Really? he glared at her. The Messiah had words for people in your position, she said, taking the battered paperback from his hands. Finding her place, she began to read:
You blind guides! You strain gnats out of your wine, but you swallow camels.

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How horrible it will be for you, scribes and Pharisees! You hypocrites! You clean the outside of cups and dishes. But inside they are full of greed and uncontrolled desires. You blind Pharisees! First clean the inside of the cups and dishes so that the outside may also be clean. How horrible it will be for you, scribes and Pharisees! You hypocrites! You are like whitewashed graves that look beautiful on the outside but inside are full of dead people's bones and every kind of impurity. So on the outside you look as though you have God's approval, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.

I dont think those words describe me in the least! Alex protested. Sylvia moved to within inches of his face, challenging him. You dont fool me for a minute, brother. Brother? Yes, youre my brother in the faith. As your sister, I am not going to allow you to destroy a beautiful woman who desperately loves you, simply because youre going to remain stubbornly ignorant! She drew back, opening the book once again.
God's word is living and active. It is sharper than any two-edged sword and cuts as deep as the place where soul and spirit meet, the place where joints and marrow meet. God's word judges a person's thoughts and intentions. No creature can hide from God. Everything is uncovered and exposed for him to see. We must answer to him. We need to hold on to our declaration of faith: We have a superior chief priest who has gone through the heavens. That person is Jesus, the Son of God. We have a chief priest who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses. He was tempted in every way that we are, but he didn't sin. So we can go condently to the throne of God's kindness to receive mercy and nd kindness, which will help us at the right time.

You cant hide from the Great One, Alexander! He knows exactly whats going on inside of you. And I suppose that means you also somehow know whats going on inside of me? I didnt realize porn stars were psychic, he mocked. Stop it! Stop it right now! Sylvia said tersely, working hard to keep her voice from carrying into the other room. You should know better than to try to hurt someone by dragging them through the mistakes they made in the past. Ive been reborn into the Ancient Ways and have become a new creation. Its time for you to leave. No brother of mine is going to treat me this way in my own home. Heaven help you if you do anything to harm that beautiful soul in the other room. Your problem Alexander, is religious pride. You might think it is somehow acceptable

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because it is religious. But the spirit of any type of pride, is the spirit of illumination. And the spirit of illumination is from the pit of hell. I will not curse you Alexander. I choose, instead, to bless you with a warning from the Ancient Words. A third time, she searched the book, and read what was to become an accurate prediction:
Pride precedes a disaster, and an arrogant attitude precedes a fall.

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Chapter 47

ake me back to the Council of Thirteen immediately, young man! George Talbott demanded, repeatedly pushing the elevator button that would return them to the penthouse. He must come clean to the Brothers. What had he done? He had answered each of the Councils questions with what he believed they had wanted to hear, expecting that they would quickly send him on his way. Asking the Great One for the right words to speak had never been a consideration. What kind of evil had his careless words unleashed? Would he now pay for his thoughtlessness with his life? Would he now die in shame because he chose to deny the Great One who had given him such freedom and life? Had he just missed an opportunity to bring glory to the Almighty through a nal, seless act of courage? Unhand me, young man! Talbott tried to shake off The Dukes rm grip. I will not die a death of cowardice. I must return upstairs to make this right! Youre coming with me, said the agent, shoving the industrialist off balance, slamming him into an elevator wall. The more you resist, the more its gonna hurt. The elevator doors opened to the cool breeze blowing through a lonely parking garage two oors below ground level. Talbotts failing health had robbed him of any strength to resist, and he found himself being dragged by The Duke, unable to move his legs fast enough to keep up. Upon reaching a windowless van, the agent opened the back doors, and duct-taped the old mans arms together in front of him. He then tightly gripped the back of Talbotts neck, and pushed his face down onto the cold steel oor. Gripping the victims waistband, he tossed the decrepit gure into the back of the van with brutal force. The Duke then lit one of his fancy European cigarettes, and after a nice, long drag, jammed the embers against the pale exposed skin beneath Talbotts lifted pant leg. The old man whimpered in pain, smelling the putrid smell of his own searing skin. Fear consumed him as he overheard his captor speaking on the phone, through his quiet moaning. Yeah, Kevin. Ive got the old man here, so Im giving you clearance to search the mansion. If you come upon the monk, AP3, or the girl, send them straight to me in New York. Its time all the loose ends of this case were taken care of, once and for all. The Duke hung up, and began shutting the back doors of the van. Before slamming them home, he said, You and me, Mr. Talbott. Were going to take a little time getting to know one another. If you tell me what I want to hear, youll live to see another day. If

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you dont, Ill not only kill you, but the man you call Monk, Putnam the Third, and his little friend, Meghan Kiplinger. That Meghan now, I hear shes a real doll. It would be a waste of good, warm esh not to show her some extra attention before sending her six feet under. You can start talking any time old man! Im all ears. ***** It was late afternoon by the time Alex and Meghan began their return trip. The visit to Harrisburg had proven to be exhausting: physically after such an early morning start; and emotionally, as both began to grapple with the ramications of their time spent with Robert and Sylvia. Tired as they were, neither felt like sleeping. There was too much to think about. They silently watched the scenery whipping past their backseat windows as their driver made his way to the Virginia safe-house. Eventually Meghan removed the space between them, sliding across the broad seat, resting her head on head on Alexanders shoulder. Why were you so cruel to Sylvia? she asked. She wanted nothing more than to help us. In the ensuing silence, he pondered the question, wondering how the one-time object of his fantasies had managed to get under his skin so thoroughly. Was it that she had nailed his ass to the wall regarding his porn xation? Or that she failed to respect that he was a man who was well-educated in the ways of faith and the church who was in no need of her constant badgering. It continued to bother him that he had spent close to a decade trying to get people to come through the doors of the church, when everyone Monk was afliated with seemed to want to keep people out of it. And why did they insist on quoting him chapter and verse like he was some kind of spiritual imbecile? Was this what happened when you encouraged commoners to lead others into the faith without the proper seminary training? And what of the emotional distance he felt now between himself and the girl he was supposed to marry? Was it all happening too fast? Had the danger and excitement of the past two weeks made him too eager to commit to Meghan? Why did he have to be so damned impulsive? He was still in the process of mentally kicking himself, when he discerned the slightest hint of a voice, which seemed to be speaking through his solar plexus. Shutting his eyes, so as to concentrate, he thought he heard the voice say:
SO ADMIT YOUR SINS TO EACH OTHER, AND PRAY FOR EACH OTHER SO THAT YOU WILL BE HEALED. PRAYERS OFFERED BY THOSE WHO HAVE GODS APPROVAL ARE EFFECTIVE.

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Recalling that these were the words of James the Messiahs brother caused him to grown inwardly. The scripture-quoting porn starlet may be miles behind him in Harrisburg, but the Ancient Words had not yet given up the chase.
WHY DONT YOU TELL HER?

The whisper became louder, until it was almost audible. Tell her what??? That for most of his adult life he had been having relationships with virtual girls because he couldnt handle the real thing? What would Meghan think of him then? Would she reject him? Why the hell did people like Sylvia need to stick their nose in where it didnt belong? It irritated him just to think of her. She had labelled him as a hypocrite, coming off like she was some kind of psychic genius. What did she want? A reward? Any moron could see that a porn addict Monday through Saturday, and a preacher on Sunday was a hypocrite. Nobody would ever be perfect; not even men of the cloth. There were no good reasons to share the weaknesses of his past with Meghan. Besides, he was now cured of such ill behavior. For nearly a week-and-a-half now, he hadnt snuck a peak. Though it was not even close to a record for him, it was a damned good start! Anyways, once he married Meghan and had some real esh and blood in his bed, all longings for the fetching digital ladies were sure to fade. Somehow, getting to know his internet fantasy-girl, Sylvia, in person, had managed to stimulate his oversensitive conscience. He therefore decided it best to overrule the voice in his gut with an iron st, and mentally told it to shut-the-hell up. No sooner had he completed his internal dialogue when the voice spoke once again, in a whisper that was now barely discernible.
PRIDE PRECEDES A DISASTER, AND AN ARROGANT ATTITUDE PRECEDES A FALL!

Shut up! Dammit! he muttered under his breath. Whats that?! Meghan pulled her head off of his shoulder so that she could look Alex straight in the eyes. I said, Sylvia just wouldnt shut up. She was quoting the Bible to me left, right, and center. It was just a little too much, you know? Meghan grinned. Since when have you ever been bothered by someone quoting Gods Word? she asked, guessing that he was joking. I dont usually mind. But the way she blabbed on-and-on was offensive. She came off sounding like a know-it-all who was trying to put me in my place. Does this have anything to do with what you two were talking about in the kitchen? There were times when it looked like it was getting a little heated, Meghan commented.

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It did a few times, Alex admitted, staring out the passenger window into the orange sun as it set on the horizon. Sylvia was way too condent in herself; considering the limited amount of knowledge she had about the things of God. And just what is that supposed to mean? Meghan was shocked to hear him say such a thing. Sylvia not only had bared her soul, but had gently led her to a place of peace over the violation that had claimed her virginity at the hands of a drunken college boy several short years before. I means that she hasnt studied. Sylvia hasnt gone to seminary, and has no real theological training. And yet, she has no problem giving her two-cents worth even when its unsolicited. I think youre wrong, said Meghan, studying him carefully. I dont have a clue what she knows or doesnt know. What I do know, is that everything she said was by-thebook. I maybe havent read my Bible in years, but I know enough to know when someone is speaking the truth of its words. Alex turned away and grunted, shaking his head disparagingly. Theres so much more... he muttered. Meghan then took a page out of Sylvias playbook: Ive spent only a brief time with Nicodemus, Monk, and these friends of theirs, but if theres one thing Ive learned, its that everything is measured by what they call the Ancient Words. From what I understand, it is only when we stray from the words of the book that we go wrong. I didnt hear Sylvia stray from the Ancient Words. Did you? An air of condescension came over Alex, as he rebuffed her argument. She relies too much on her personal experience. I mean, did we really need to hear all of the gory, sordid details of her life? Yes! Meghan intensely afrmed. Because hearing her story gave us hope. It showed us that no matter how far weve strayed, the Father will always take us back, just as long as were transparent, and remain humble before him. You dont know this, but the day you called me up out-of-the-blue, I was about to go out with a girl from work. Im far from a lesbian, Alex, but I had gotten to the point to where I was willing to experiment if it would bring me intimacy in a safe environment. Youre kidding me, right? Alex squinted his eyes and wrinkled his nose unbelievingly. Im not kidding you at all. We had become pretty good friends, and I could tell she was interested in me beyond friendship. There were the ways she looked at me, and the odd times when she would jokingly touch my hand or leg when we were in private. She had been begging for me to go out with her for the past several months, and Id always make excuses to avoid it.

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But my loneliness and my fear had caught up with me. I was lonely because my parents wouldnt have anything to do with me. And I was afraid of all men; afraid of what they would do if I showed them any interest. One night, I caught a news special on TV about gay relationships and how fullling they could be. That was enough to get things moving on the inside of me. Id never been attracted to girls, but I was desperately craving intimacy; to be held; to be safe. So one night at the beginning of the work-week, I said a little prayer. I told God that if he wanted me to be with a man hed better give me a sign before the end of work on Friday. And that was when you called! So when Sylvia was vulnerable about her past with us, she inspired hope in me. Basically, she was saying, Look where Ive been, and look where I am now. No one who is broken-hearted is out of the Fathers reach. It got me thinking about what kind of story my life could tell. Alex sat back, watching the last of the orange sky fade from view. He was confused that he failed to be titillated by the thought of his future wife with an attractive co-worker. He was confused that he failed to be titillated by the thought of his future wife and and the former porn actress Samantha Boswell, alone in the kitchen. He was confused that he felt such sexual deadness. Should be one hell of a honeymoon, he grimaced. What was that? Had he heard something. Had the voice spoken again? He listened intently, and could only barely make out the words.
TELL HER YOUR STORY. ONLY THOSE WHO ARE BOUND BY THE PRIDE OF ILLUMINATION KEEP SECRETS...

Alex? Alexander! Did you even hear a word I said? Meghan asked. Yes, I heard you, he replied with agitation. You seem distracted by something. Whats going on? Im just listening. When you are vulnerable with me, it gets me thinking. Of what? That youd rather marry a woman who had more sanity? she laughed as she playfully hit him on the shoulder. No... Youre perfect. Youre perfect for me. He was about to go on to be vulnerable himself recounting all of his own imperfections, when he stopped. He didnt want her to think any worse of him. Wasnt it enough that his own dad was ashamed of him? That his own father thought that he was a waste of time? He wanted things to be

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different with Meghan. He wanted her to look up to him; to admire him. Not to be ashamed of him. Im far from perfect Alexander, but Im glad you feel that way, she again nestled in closely to him. When we start our life together, I want to be like them. Like who? Like Robert and Sylvia. And why is that? Alex, failed to express his revulsion of the comment. They have committed their lives to the Great Ones cause, caring less about white picket fences or fancy cars. They want to do something that has eternal meaning. I want to live our lives like that. Sylvia told me that after their time at the monastery with Monk, they moved to Denver where they cared for fem homosexuals who were trying to nd their heterosexuality. She said they were having so much success freeing people to live a normal life that a Denver Gay Pride organization tried to inltrate their Sunday morning meetings. Really? Alex said. Though his mouth speaking, his mind was not really engaged. He had checked out. Meghan continued, Yup, they sent in a guy who pretended he wanted help to become heterosexual, but in reality, he was just spying and reporting to the Pride people. Turns out the gay community was losing lots of members, just by this dear little couple, inviting people to Sunday breakfast in their home. Once the Gay Pride organization found out what was going on, they began a campaign of hate, serious enough to rival anything that went on in the South during segregation. Robert and Sylvia had to move to Harrisburg after some butch gays who were in leadership in the Denver movement threatened to beat Sylvia so badly, that she would miscarry her babies. No kidding... It sort of got me thinking, Meghan said, slipping her hand into his. Whats that? The Gay Pride people had a strong interest in ensuring that gays would remain enslaved; making certain that they would fail to experience freedom from their oppression. And you know what? Ive been going to church almost my whole life, and Ive never experienced the Messiahs freedom like I did today.

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And... And so, what interest does organized religion have in keeping people enslaved? How can they preach and teach about the Messiah, but never take the time to bring people to freedom? It strikes me as odd, considering what I experienced today. Could it be that the leaders of organized religion are no better than the people who are leading Gay Pride? Do they both somehow have an interest that can only be protected by keeping people enslaved, and far away from the Messiahs promised freedom? Do you think there could be a link between both of these forms of illumination? Could be... Alexanders voice tailed off. He hadnt heard a word she had said.

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Chapter 48

ouve got a big mouth, old man, muttered The Duke with frustration; chain smoking his eighteenth cigarette since the trip to the coast had begun. You better start apping those gums to tell me what youve been up to, or Im going to burn holes in more than your legs! The agent continued the interrogation but to no avail. Though blood circulation had been cut off to his hands by the tape binding his wrists, and though he was bruised and burned, George Talbott refused to answer any of the agents questions. Why did the others call him Nicodemus? What was Monks real name? How was Alexander Putnam III involved? Did Putnam II play a role? Why had he decided to spill all of the Brotherhoods secrets, after all these years? Did he know how he was going to die if he continued to remain silent? There were insults and profanity. Threats and more profanity. But through it all the industrialist remained stoically silent. The van stopped on a lonely, wind-swept street that dead-ended at the beach. Swearing viciously, The Duke dragged Talbott from the vehicle, and up a sand dune to the place he had chosen. The tide was already beginning to come in. Leaving the old man lying on his back in the sand, he ran back to the van for the tools he would need to complete the job. Shovel and vice-grips in hand, he sprinted over the dune once again, to nd that Talbott was gone! What the... Frantically, The Duke searched the pale, starlit beach for the old man, attempting to make out his tracks in the sand. Waves now rolled in very close to where he had dropped the industrialist, washing out any possible tracks along the ocean side of the beach. Dammit! He should have taped his ankles together as well! Who knew the decrepit old fool would have so much strength left in him. He ran back to the van for a ashlight. Returning to the beach, he shined the ashlight around, and caught a glimmer of the vise-grips he had left behind. Now where was the damned shovel? A mighty thud suddenly reverberated painfully through his skull. Falling to the sand, he was sick with the realization that Talbott must have taken the shovel, and was now using it as a weapon. Another heavier blow struck him on the back of the head, and he thought for a moment that all might go black. But an unexpected, blind rage began spreading like wildre through his body, and he staggered back to his feet, shoving his elderly assailant to the ground; brutally kicking him in the ribs. So thats the way its going to be, is it? The Duke yelled, trying to regain his bearings. Im going to nish it now, you old fool! Trust me, its not going to be pleasant, and it

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wont happen quickly! he sneered loudly into the wind toward the frail body, now gasping in the sand. The surprising raps to the skull had brought the agent to a frenzied state of bloodlust; causing him to bear a greater resemblance to a berserk animal, than a human who was about to engage in a premeditated crime. Taking his pocketknife, he sliced through the tape binding Talbotts wrists, and ung him over, onto his knees in the sand. Now Im going to harvest your life force! he screamed wildly, yanking the industrialists trousers and underwear to his ankles, exposing thin, emaciated buttocks, which for months had been wasting away by disease. Wait!!! Talbott cried out, turning to face The Duke, while tugging his briefs back into place. The power has left me! Theres nothing left to take! Bullshit! the Agent yelled, as some of the craziness was beginning to leave his eyes. No! Its true! said the old man, now pulling his slacks up. I gave my life to the Messiah, and when his Spirit entered my body, all of the entities I once possessed, left me for good. The only supernatural power that now resides in me is the Spirit of the Great One and you will experience a thousand eternal deaths if you try to steal such a spirit through rape. I have been made a child of the Great One. The only life-force left to harvest, is what remains in these cancer lled bones. Trust me, such a life-force would only be poison to you. Shut-up and turn over! The Duke spun the old man around, clawing at the trousers once again. But this time, as he examined the wrinkled skin wrapped over the cadaverous frame before him in the starlight, he was instantly repulsed. What the hell had he been thinking? The Wellington brothers must be seriously twisted to think that raping this old man was even a possibility. Zipping himself up, he shoved the crippled body to the sand with a push of his shoe and grasped the handle of the shovel. The old man lay there, half naked, making no effort to move. Half an hour later, a semi-conscious Talbott was buried up to his neck in sand, with the cold fringe of waves beginning to bring him back to full awareness. Seeing the old mans eyes utter open, and darting wildly back-and-forth in fear, The Duke gripped the vice-grips in one hand, and spoke loudly, so that the industrialist could hear above the roar of the waves: When you joined the Brotherhood, you swore an oath to keep its secrets. Violating your vows has made you guilty of laws higher than that of any nation state. As your executioner, I declare before all heaven and earth that you are guilty of treason to the Brotherhood.

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In that moment, an amazing calm came over George Talbott; a peace more perfect than any he had ever experienced. He struggled against the sand to bend his neck back so that he could to look up at The Dukes face. Youre inexperienced at this, arent you? he said with renewed strength in his voice. What did the brothers promise you? A lofty position, where you get to wield some power? Money, fame, and fortune? The Dukes grasp on the vice-grips tightened, but he held back, listening. Dont feel badly about failing to sodomize me. Someone of your limited understanding of the Light Bearers mysteries could have only succeeded at harvesting my life force if the Dog Star, Sirius, was lined up behind the Sun. Youre several months too late for that my friend. I want to make a suggestion to you, Talbott, who was buried up to his neck in wet sand, was now speaking as though he were holding all the cards. The brothers are takers. In serving themselves, they end up serving the Evil One. Do you really want to become a taker like William and Philip, by taking my life here on this beach? The brothers will teach you how to take women to fulll your lusts; how to take from men to demonstrate your power; and how to take from common workers to fulll your greed. You will experience an earthly lifetime of taking, only to spend an eternity with absolutely nothing. The other option is to give your life to the Messiah who will teach you how to become a giver. You will give your time to help the needy; you will give your money to help the poor; and you will give up your pride, to live a nameless, faceless, life of humility. You will spend your life secretly giving to others, and will end up spending eternity with everything. The Duke moved a step forward, trying to process the words. He had been a fool to think he could get anything from this old man. Sodomy? What had he been thinking? He was a lot of things, but he had never been a pervert. How can I guarantee that what youre telling me is true? he asked. What I am telling you is the foundation of the Ancient Ways. Those who lose their lives in this world, will nd them. But those nd their lives in this world will lose them for eternity. The brothers can only promise... Talbott choked, as a cold wave splashed against his face. Squinting against the salt in his eyes, he continued: The brothers can only make a promise about what they will give you tomorrow, for this is the Light Bearers way. They will give you the world tomorrow, and once you have it, they will steal your soul for all eternity. Look! The water is beginning to rise. Help me out, and we will free you of this mess youre in.

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I dont think so, old man, said The Duke. Ive spent my entire life being looked down upon. This is my one big shot in life. Id be stupid not to take it. Then lets get on with it, Talbott encouraged boldly. If its all the same with you, why not just slit my throat and let me bleed out. Theres really no need to rip my tongue out by its roots. Through the sound of the wind, The Duke could be head chuckling. Tonights not your lucky night. I told them I would rip your tongue out, and let the waves do the rest. I hope thats okay... if its all the same with you. At that, George Talbott who, through the Ancient Ways was reborn to become Nicodemus opened his quivering mouth, and presented his tongue to the man before him, who had just opened the vice-grips. And in those few seconds before the unbearable pain and blood-ow began, he heard the voice speak once last time. This time, he heard it the way he always longed to hear. There was no mistaking the words.
WELL DONE MY SON. YOU FINISHED STRONG. YOUR FATHER IS SO PROUD.

***** It was well after dark when Kevin Mililtello and twelve other agents raided the Talbott compound. They moved in with enough repower to pacify a small town, ready for resistance. After destroying a couple solid wood doors and tear-gassing the place, it became obvious no one was home; just as the Agency observers in the van down the street had predicted. They spent the next three hours dusting for ngerprints and sifting through papers, hunting for any shred of useful evidence. They came up empty. The place had been wiped clean by professionals who clearly understood how to sanitize a crime scene. On his way out the door, Militello cursed at The Duke for failing to send them in sooner. One day earlier, and this case would now been closed; they would now have Monk, AP3, and his little friend Meghan in custody. As the second-in-command of the Dark Unit gave further thought to why the Wellington brothers would choose to promote such ineptitude, he correctly guessed that it was William who was calling the shots when it came the appointment of the new Director. The senior brother had a pattern of surrounding himself with weaker men who would lick his boots. Philip, on the other hand... He and Philip were men who were cut from the same cloth. They despised weakness in all its forms. *****

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Exhausted, Madame Chantalle dropped into bed and immediately fell asleep. After completing a long days work, she had cleaned her apartment from top-to-bottom in preparation of the weekend visit from her parents, who were making their regular fall pilgrimage from northern France to the warmer climes of Hawaii. Her mother, who was notoriously obsessive about germs and dust, and had been threatening to stay in a vestar Manhattan hotel where there were more suitable accommodations. With every inch of her modest living quarters scrubbed and sparkling, Madame Chantalle was grateful that her parents westward voyage would resume Sunday afternoon. By then, she would have had just about enough: enough comments about her living arrangements; enough comments about her cooking; enough comments about her ballooning weight; enough comments about her not having a husband. Though sleep came quickly, it was tful. She tossed and turned in her bed making subconscious predictions about her mothers next criticism. Her thoughts slowly weaved into a nightmare that shook her so deeply, that she eventually awakened in a cold sweat. Sitting up in bed, she tried to catch her breath, wondering what it could possibly mean. The dream took place in a henhouse, where a beautiful hen was brooding over ve eggs. She could relate to the instinctive bond the mother hen felt with her eggs: the way she nestled them under the warmth of her body with her beak; her unwavering commitment to sit for days, even when the other chickens were enjoying the outdoors; and the patient hope that with each passing day, new life was closer to being birthed. Of the ve, only two eggs hatched. The chicks were precious little puffballs, and the mother hen took great pride when she paraded them outside of the henhouse for all the other birds to see. One day, an ugly old hen who was losing her feathers and no longer capable of producing eggs made fun of the mother hen. Youre so proud, she said. You think you are so high and mighty just because you have two chicks. But look at you! You have become distracted from you purpose in life to produce eggs for humans to eat! While you fuss with your two youngsters, we other hens are doing the important work. Take me for instance. Ive already laid over one thousand eggs! announced the unsightly molting chicken. Just then, while the mother hen was confused and distracted by the badgering old hen, a raven swooped into the pen and snatched the two young chicks into its claws and ew away. At the precise moment the mother hen realized her youngsters had been abducted, Madame Chantalle awoke with her heart racing. What could it possibly mean?!

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She lay awake in her bed for the next two hours, running the possibilities through her mind. When she nally dozed off, she slept soundly, and would awaken in the morning with only a vague memory of the previous nights disruption.

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t didnt take you two very long to nd your beds last night, Monk commented, sipping a cup of coffee at the dining room table. I was on a conference-call when you returned from Harrisburg and was just about to have Chef prepare a late supper, but neither of you could be found. Howd you sleep? Wonderfully, said Meghan, as she gazed through the expansive windows overlooking a forested valley. Its so peaceful out here. You cant even hear any trafc. How did you ever nd this place? It seems like mountains for miles! One of my friends lets me use it when I need to, replied the cleric. Its a summer vacation home that ends up sitting empty most of the time. Come, sit down. Chef will bring us some breakfast soon. Now tell me all about your visit with Robert and Sylvia. Meghan seemed to enjoy it, Alex answered, seating himself at the table. But I found it to be stressful. I dont know how you do it Monk, but it seems that every person connected with you, hates the church. Monk chuckled quietly. They dont hate the church. They love the church. What they hate is organized religion. You, Meghan, Robert, Sylvia and I and every other person who has been reborn into the Ancient Ways are the church. Like I said before, the church is made up of people, not buildings, pastors, and priests. Only those who do not have a personal relationship with the Great One demand to be led by a leader who will establish a kingdom on earth. This is just as true of organized religion, as it is with nations. When people demand leaders and kingdoms, they only make themselves vulnerable to the corruption of illumination. We hate illumination because it is the foundation of the world system, established by the Chief of the Enlightened Ones: Lucifer, the Light Bearer. Perhaps this experience from my life will help you to better understand: I once tried to help a butch-gay pastor to become free of his perverted compulsions. At rst, he was willing to make an effort to leave his prison, but when I began to deal with the deeper issues of his pride, he resisted and became hostile toward me. Sort of like what happened with Randall? Alex inquired, referring to the negative response of the senior pastor, which precipitated his suspension from Camden Heights First United Congregational Church. Yes. It was a similar situation. Here was a charismatic, well-liked, fty year-old man, leading a congregation of two hundred people, while secretly having sex with students

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from the university gay community. It was wrong. I knew it, and he knew I knew it. And he perceived I was going to do something about it. Then, all of the sudden, this fellows sexual escapades seemed to come to a grinding halt. I no longer saw him cruising the college campus. By all accounts, he seemed to be living his life according to the Ancient Ways. This struck me as odd, because he refused to be healed of his afiction. Eventually, I became curious enough, that I began to anonymously attend his Sunday services every other month. It turned out that hed convinced his congregation to nancially support a new charity: an organization of his own invention. He persuaded the entire church to get behind the special projects his personal charity had initiated in Africa. They bought sewing machines for one village so that women could make clothing. They purchased farm equipment for another village, and so on. Of course, in order to administrate all of this charitable work, the church would also have to nance this pastors plane tickets and accommodations for two weeks and sometimes longer. He always came home with many pictures. His charity had a newsletter and even a website. It was a real feel-good story, and the church was very proud of all they were doing for the poor people on the other side of the world. They were becoming known throughout their small town as the church on a mission. The pastor was getting lots of favorable press in the local papers, and Sunday attendance was increasing dramatically. But something didnt smell right to me, so I dug deeper. To make a long story short, I discovered that this pastor this well-respected man-ofgod who was chosen as the illumined, religious leader over this church had actually purchased the items I mentioned for the disadvantaged people. But they sat unused in storage, because his idea of traveling around the world to administrate his projects was to spend two weeks in the seedy part of a large city getting his rocks off with young, African, male-prostitutes. Suddenly, it became crystal clear as to why his behavior in North America appeared so godly, even though he had resisted being healed. All he had done, was to move his perverted playground to another continent, thinking that nobody would be the wiser. To put it succinctly, a congregation of do-gooding-kingdom-builders were tithing their hard-earned money to support one mans quest to sodomize Africans. When he returned with the fabricated photos of all of this efforts, everyone patted each other on the back and toasted to their enlightened pastor. He was their man! Through his charismatic leadership, a great kingdom was being established. Organized religion was the vehicle which drove that congregation to worship their pastor as a king, rather than the Almighty. As their Illumined One, he used their generosity, to steal the life-force of African boys. Such a thing would have never

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occurred if the butch-gay pastor had never been put into a position where he was revered by his congregants. The Ancient Ways state that everyone who honors the Great One, will hate what is evil. The Illumined Ones have no reverence for the Ancient Ways. They do not respect the Great Ones power, and they do not fear his judgment. As kings, they have become their own gods, and will therefore take from the earth as they see t. Consequently, we hate their pride. We hate that they are takers. We hate that they violate other human beings to gratify themselves. You seem to be a mighty hateful for a spiritual man... Alex muttered. Monk interrupted the former pastor before he could continue with his objection. You must think of it this way, Alexander! he exclaimed, removing the worn leather book from his breast pocket. In the days of Samuel the prophet, the people cried out for a king. This took place after the Great One had already delivered them from the slavery of Egypt, bringing them into Israel: a land owing with milk and honey. At that time, the people were free. And to ensure that they remained free, the Great One had given them his Ancient Words, which he summarized in the Ten Commandments that were written in stone. The people were governed by a simple government, administered by judges, who were accountable to the Great One himself. Yet, though the people had everything they needed to remain free, well into the future, they demanded to be led by a king. And do you know why? Their pride made them desire to be like other nations. They wanted all of the glitz and glamour; all the pomp and circumstance; all the militant patriotism which came with building their own kingdom. Consider the Ancient Words:
But Samuel considered it wrong for them to request a king to judge them. So Samuel prayed to the LORD. The LORD told Samuel, "Listen to everything the people are saying to you. They haven't rejected you; they've rejected me. They're doing just what they've done since I took them out of Egypt--leaving me and serving other gods. Listen to them now, but be sure to warn them and tell them about the rights of a king." Then Samuel told the people who had asked him for a king everything the LORD had said. Samuel said, "These are the rights of a king: He will draft your sons, make them serve on his chariots and horses, and make them run ahead of his chariots. He will appoint them to be his ofcers over 1,000 or over 50 soldiers, to plow his ground and harvest his crops, and to make weapons and equipment for his chariots. He will take your daughters and have them make perfumes, cook, and bake. He will take the best of your elds, vineyards, and olive orchards and give them to his ofcials. He will take a tenth of your grain and wine and give it to his aids and ofcials. He will take your male and female slaves, your best cattle, and your donkeys for his own use. He will take a tenth of your ocks. In addition, you will be his servants.

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"When that day comes, you will cry out because of the king whom you have chosen for yourselves. The LORD will not answer you when that day comes." But the people refused to listen to Samuel. They said, "No, we want a king! Then we, too, will be like all the other nations. Our king will judge us, lead us out to war, and ght our battles."

Monk continued to explain: It is a natural law that those who reject the Creator will automatically embrace a king who will rule the people as a feudal lord, with all of the rights of a king. And it is this natural law the Illumined Ones are banking on. The Constitution of the United States was written to remind Americans about the source of their freedom; while holding the nations leaders accountable to a higher power. But too many people have now been deceived by the Illumined Ones, and the country has begun to make compromises regarding her freedom. Though In God We Trust is emblazoned across Americas money, the people have begun to cry out for a king. And it is no different than organized religion, which also makes compromises with the worlds system of illumination so that it too, can build its own kingdoms. The people have rejected the Great One, and because of this, hes going to turn them over to the enslavement they are begging for. The more the cleric spoke, the more irritated Alex felt. Everyone knows the church exists to free people, not to enslave them, he snapped. The church does exist to free people, Monk agreed. But this is different from organized religion whose mission is to develop and maintain kingdoms. The Messiah gave up his life to set people free. This is why he hates organized religion. Listen:
The Jewish Passover was near, so Jesus went to Jerusalem. He found those who were selling cattle, sheep, and pigeons in the temple courtyard. He also found moneychangers sitting there. He made a whip from small ropes and threw everyone with their sheep and cattle out of the temple courtyard. He dumped the moneychangers' coins and knocked over their tables. He told those who sold pigeons, "Pick up this stuff, and get it out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!" His disciples remembered that Scripture said, "Devotion for your house will consume me." The Jews reacted by asking Jesus, "What miracle can you show us to justify what you're doing?" Jesus replied, "Tear down this temple, and I'll rebuild it in three days." The Jews said, "It took forty-six years to build this temple. Do you really think you're going to rebuild it in three days?" But the temple Jesus spoke about was his own body.

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Monk set the book down on the table, and said: Weve each become the new temple of the Great One. When we are reborn into the Ancient Ways, his spirit migrates into our bodies. When this occurs, every believer becomes a priest in the Creators church, creating a force of goodness with the capacity to make the oppressed free. Every believer is made a white knight in the Messiahs kingdom; a force of justice, who will live by the code of the Ancient Ways. This is far different from the kingdom-building approach of organized religion, which states that pastors, priests, and rabbis are the enlightened kings, and that we must pour money into their temples, to sustain the false kingdoms they have erected. Just as the Illumined Ones feudal system of politics has bankrupted America, their feudal system of organized religion has made the country spiritually impoverished. We hate organized religion because wherever it has inuence, you will nd spiritually depraved people. Spiritually depraved people have been brainwashed to accept a life of slavery. Theyve become nothing more than drones: going to church every Sunday; paying their tithes; while feeling proud that they are a member of their own special feudal kingdom. And in the process, they have sold their soul to enlightenment; caring more about the rosy appearance of things, rather than the encroachment of evil that is about to enslave us all. The Ancient Words say it best. The cleric picked up the leather book, and again began to read:
How horrible it will be for you, scribes and Pharisees! You hypocrites! You give God one-tenth of your mint, dill, and cumin. But you have neglected justice, mercy, and faithfulness. These are the most important things in Moses' Teachings. You should have done these things without neglecting the others.

Stop right there! Alex protested. Stop it! Once again, Monk, you are painting with a very wide brush. There are some very sincere people who lead churches or attend them, and you continue to place them under the damning umbrella of organized religion. The Bible teaches us that God will judge us in the same way weve judged others. Maybe you should take the plank out of your own eye, before you try to remove the speck out of the eye of someone else. The former pastors agitation was quickly evolving into a proud pleasure. He too, could quote from the scriptures to prove his point. Meghan sat in silence, observing the two men in heated conversation. She found herself relating to Monks plight, wondering why Alex continued to dig in his heals over the matter. To her, it was nothing more than a repeat performance of yesterday, and the disturbing approach he took toward Sylvia. Alexander, Monk said patiently, with a faint smile. I have to believe the Great One has brought us together for a reason. But that reason will not emerge until you deal with your ego. You are blind to reality because you have invested so heavily into the system of organized religion. All of the money and time you expended to go through seminary, and the pride you feel because you hold a little piece of paper which says you

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have a degree in theology; all these things have made you a slave to illumination. Your illumination has become so bright, you are blind to what is right before your eyes! At the comment, Alex stared at the oor trying to maintain self-control. He desperately wanted to lash out and strike the man-in-brown in the face, pummeling it until it was black and blue. But he managed to remain calm. Monk continued: You must begin to understand that the Illumined Ones want us to remain blind. They will only succeed in achieving their goal of a New World Order if they remain as the only ones who can see whats truly going on. For this reason, they promote American patriotism, to keep us blind to their perpetual lust for warfare. They invent terrorism, to keep us perpetually fearful and dependent upon them for our security. They push materialism, to keep the nation in a perpetual state of covetousness and busyness while people scurry around to keep up with the Joneses. And theyve bought-off organized religion with tax breaks, bribing its leaders to persuade their congregations to blindly do whatever the government tells them to. The tense conversation was suddenly interrupted by the loud sound of a door slamming, and the pounding of running feet. Monk! called out the voice in a panic. An ashen-faced cleric emerged into the room, oblivious to the others. I happened to glance at todays Washington paper when I was just in town. Youre going to want to see this. What is it? Monk asked, taking the paper from the wheezing man-in-brown. He read the headline, and tears began to well up in his eyes. Oh no!!! Poor Nicodemus! My poor, dear old friend. You deserved so much better than this! ***** The Duke reread the article on the front page, sipping from a glass of too-tart bubbly, while waiting for the news at the top of the hour on TV. Caviar and champagne was a ridiculous breakfast, but he felt like marking the occasion in style. He was fairly certain that this was what people of his status did when they wanted to celebrate. Though it puzzled him as to why people thought the pickled sh eggs were a delicacy, he steadfastly washed them down, unwilling to allow himself to be convinced that he didnt really enjoy them.
PHILANTHROPIST MURDERED! Icon Who Gave Billions, has Life Taken by Mob

What a headline! The idiots in the press got most of the details of the murder wrong, but the Wellington Brothers would certainly be impressed; even if he hadnt sodomized

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the old man. Besides, if he had actually gone through with it, he doubted the media would now be claiming that it was a mob hit. The maa werent known for their interest in gay sex. The news jingle nally began to play and he turned up the television. Gathering the plush hotel bathrobe around his waist, he crammed one more cracker with that godawful goo smeared on top, into his mouth. The lead story described the mysterious murder of George Talbott. It had been a grisly scene, discovered by some poor soul who was taking an evening walk with his dog. The animal had sniffed out a bloody object on the beach: a human tongue that had not been cut out, but torn. A gargling noise then brought his attention to the a head sticking out of the sand that was being pounded by incoming waves. Talbott was barely alive when they nally excavated his body from the sand. He died on the ambulance ride to the hospital, from loss of blood and exposure to the cold. What could this kindly, billionaire, cancer-victim have known that would cause the maa to respond in this way? An investigation into the murder was ongoing. The international community would mourn for this great man, who did so much, for so many. The Duke, caught up in the rush of the moment, was about to click off the television when the text for the next story ashed up on the screen. Senator Charles Stanbridge had resigned his seat due to the recent discovery that he had an advanced case of prostate cancer. The longtime xture of Capitol Hill stated that it would not be fair to his constituents or family if he continued to serve them in his weakened state after the surgery. A bi-election would be held in the near future to ll the vacant seat for the remainder of the term. He would be missed. Then, the talking head went onto the next story, expounding on the impact stress was having on the law enforcement community. It could not have come at a better time for the The Duke! There on the screen was a picture of Jack Grimsbys pudgy face. The news reporters comments about the fat detectives demise was going to give him a veritable hat-trick! Apparently, the agent had taken his own life Wednesday night after ghting with his wife and going on a bender. This was simply the most recent example of several members of law enforcement who were buckling under the strain of the job. Since the beginning of the year, one-third of the Agencys most seasoned veterans had resigned, citing mental-stress as the reason for their early departure. The downturn in the economy and the resulting crime-wave, along with the constant threat of domestic terrorism was beginning to wear on the experienced agents, necessitating a mass hiring at the Bureau. My very own jack-booted thugs! The Duke uttered gleefully, nally shutting off the television. Holding the champagne to his lips and tipping his head backward, he emptied the bottle, enjoying the raw power that was owing through the core of his being. He relived the

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moment when he had nally ripped George Talbotts tongue clear from his mouth, and thrust the bloody organ into the air, dedicating it to the glory of Sirius. The star may not have been in alignment with the Sun, but he felt a wonderful energy begin to descend upon him from on-high. It was an exhilarating feeling of superhuman invincibility. The thought suddenly came to him that maybe he should use the call-girl service again. This time it would be different. He had god-like power now, and possessed the ability to take lives with the snap of his ngers. Maybe he would request the same bitches that stuck it to him last time, after they had drugged him. Maybe he would force them to submit to him this time! Maybe he would sodomize them, harvesting their life force, before the big ceremony tonight. There was a hungry beast that lived on the inside of him now, and he was in the mood to feed it. ***** The news of Nicodemus death, and the horrible account of his nal hour of life left each of them shaken. Monk and Meghan mourned with tears and consoled one another with an embrace, while Alex stared at the table, wondering if any of it would have ever happened if he had not secretly recorded their conversations. Was he responsible for the old mans horrifying death? Tongues were only removed from the mouths of those who had been caught talking too much. Instinctively, Alex thought about admitting to Monk about what he had done; not only about recording the initial conversations, but more importantly, failing to divulge that his computer containing the recordings had been compromised. Perhaps now was the time to expose his coverup before it went from bad to worse. After all, the fragile old fellow who was to be the best-man in his wedding had just experienced a tortured end all because of him. His feelings of guilt became so intense that he wanted to scream out in anger and frustration. But he chose to remain silent after he considered the shame it would bring to him in front of Meghan. He had already been chastised enough times in front of the woman who would soon be his wife, and he did not want to disappoint her any further. It was all said and done now, so he may as well swallow his emotions, and move on with life. The old man had already been on deaths door, anyways. From the beginning, this mission has been awed, Monk frowned. Its almost as though weve been undermined from the start. Ive never lost one of my own people before, he grieved, trying his best to process the hollow pangs of loss.

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Well need to be out of the country by Monday. Its no longer safe here for any of us. Alexander and Meghan, I would like you to join us when we return to the monastery in Central America. Leave the United States? Alex questioned. But what about our jobs, cars, and apartments. There are a ton of loose ends that need to be tied up. I wasnt ofcially red from my job, and I dont want to appear as thought I just quit. Besides, once were married, Randall will have no grounds for dismissing me. And what will our parents think when we just fall off the earth? This isnt the rst time Ive had to extricate people from the States, and it wont be the last. When things quieten down after a few months, you and Meghan will relocate stateside with new identities to fulll the Great Ones mission through your lives. Eventually, if you still feel led, you can then reconnect with your parents and siblings. Im ready to leave, Meghan said positively. I want to experience what Sylvia went through during her time in Central America. I want whatever it is that she has. And whats that? asked Alex dubiously. Her strength and condence to participate in the Great Ones mission by helping her husband to fulll his created purpose in life. She possesses the boldness of a warrior, while at the same time, remaining so attractively feminine. Thats the way I want to be, Meghan declared. And you will, Monk assured. Both you and Sylvia have the heart of a lioness. As you are further reborn into the Ancient Ways, your fears and insecurities will become a thing of the past, and your feline ferocity will be of great assistance to Alexander as he moves forward to complete the Great Ones purpose for his life. Which is... It was all happening too fast for Alex. A great earthquake is about to destroy the entertainment industry as we know it in the United States, Monk prophesied. His brow furrowed in concentration, as though he were listening and speaking all at the same time. In the aftermath, many of the industrys surviving leaders will be open to the Great Ones call upon their lives. You and Meghan will be responsible to assist them through their process of rebirth into the Ancient Ways. But before you can fulll that objective, all fear must be cast from your life. This will occur quite naturally as your advance through your rebirthing at the monastery. Alexanders eyes widened. Hollywood eh? he murmured shaking his head in disbelief. No. Not Hollywood. Hollywood will cease to exist. The industry will have to move to another location, the cleric replied softly, suddenly distracted by other thoughts.

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Monk went quiet, and he gazed through the expansive windows, observing the brown and yellow foliage as it was being stripped from the trees by a stiff wind as it blew through the hills and mountains. Death and rebirth: it was a cycle of dark desolation and pain, followed by a season of lush, vibrant life. It was a deep mystery that the hope brought by spring rains could not arrive, without rst going through the death of winter. The cold winter months had concluded for Nicodemus. He was now walking into the green fullness of spring, in the next life. Meghan was ready to move on, eager for springtime to begin its blooming in her life. The wild card was Alexander. When would the boy nally realize how brutal the winter could actually be? ***** Madame Chantalle awoke feeling unsettled. As she raced around her apartment putting on the nishing touches so that it would look and smell just perfect for when her parents arrived, she tried to jog her memory, in an attempt to quell the disconcerting feeling. Driving to the airport, she nally gave up. Whatever it was she was missing, was not immediately accessible in her brain. Perhaps if she thought on other things for awhile, the subconscious nagging would eventually surface to the front of her mind. Why had she insisted that her parents stay with her, during their brief stop-over in New York? Why not allow them to get a hotel, and meet with them over a few meals? Was it because she wanted to prove to them that she was making it in the mean streets of New York City on her own? Did she somehow still long for their approval? It was foolishness she muttered to herself sheer foolishness, to bring her mother into her humble surroundings, expecting that she would be happy and content. No doubt, she would pick apart the place: the location; the decor; the cleanliness; the safety concerns. Nothing was ever good enough. She wondered how long it would take before her mother shifted her criticism from the apartment to her daughter: overweight; no husband; dead-end job; modest income. It would likely be a three day visit from hell. She found them waiting outside the airport, a porter in tow with ve pieces of luggage. Her mother a tall, angular, grey-haired woman with pursed lips and a thin line of bright lipstick denoting her displeasure was looking down at her sterling silver watch. Were it not for her distinctly Parisian accent, she could have easily been mistaken as British aristocracy. Her papa a sloop shouldered, balding man looked rattled. He greeted her with an uneasy smile as she parallel-parked in the airport loading lane. Fifteen minutes later, with two suitcases jammed in the trunk of her small car, and three stacked in the backseat beside her father, they slowly began working their way through trafc back to the modest apartment.

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Halfway way there, the unnerving feeling returned to Madame Chantalle, and she immediately began thinking of the remaining girls at the detention center. In many ways, she considered herself to be their mother hen. Ah! A vague memory of the dream suddenly came back to her. Should she go to see them? Though she had told them that she would attend their graduation on Sunday, was she supposed to see them sooner? The dissatised silence of her passengers was disguised only by the hollow droning of the overburdened subcompact, as it worked hard to keep up with trafc. Madame Chantalle used the quiet moment to petition the Great One about what action she should take.
GO TO THEM,

she heard the voice with unusual clarity. YOU MUST GO TO THEM NOW! *****

For sometime now, the tension inside the residential prison had been heightening. The calm ve had transformed into the sick two and the healthy three. Out of selfpreservation, the healthy three kept their distance from the sick two, knowing that if they were going to successfully escape, they must remain well. They worked on the lock using every spare moment, hoping that with the right push or pull of a bobby-pin, it would click open, returning them to a life of freedom. It had become obvious that since the second guards absence after the departure of the wild eight the remaining watchman had become increasingly disinterested and lazy. He now made an appearance only when accompanying the matrons who delivered the food, three times a day. The girls were fairly certain he was no longer at his post, because they had used a broom handle to jar a surveillance camera so that it pointed away from the front door, and he had failed to correct its positioning or make mention of it. Water! they again heard Felicity moan. Could you bring us some water? They looked at each other, pretending not to hear the pathetic sounding voice. The doctor had made an appearance during the breakfast hour and had administered intravenous medication, giving them both plenty of water while he was there. They couldnt possibly be thirsty again. Besides, Felicity had been up wandering around like a zombie, and had made it to the kitchen for water several times now. Perhaps it was the powerful meds that were making them so incredibly thirsty. Based on the guards most recent pattern, his next appearance would be in more than an hour. They worked furtively with the lock, wiggling the pins back and forth, while gently turning the handle. They just had to escape!

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***** I need to make a quick stop on the way home, said Madame Chantalle casually. The parents silence was nally broken by the mother, who was clutching her handbag in the front seat, in some vain attempt to protect it from germs: Dear, I cannot bear to spend another moment in this contraption. Its been a long ight. Why not drop us at a hotel and then you can be free to run off and do whatever it is you need to do? Mother, you are not going to stay in a hotel when I live here in the city. I think youll nd my place to be quite comfortable. Sweetie, it would be no trouble at all to drop us at a hotel. We could take a cab to your place later and grab a bite to eat, said her father, as he wiggled his arm past the luggage pushing against him in the backseat in an attempt to rub his daughters shoulder. We are grateful for your hospitality, but we know you have a busy life too. Just drop us at a hotel, dear. Papa! I want you both to stay with me! Its the least I can do while youre in New York. I just have to stop for ten minutes, thats all. Dear! I cant bare another minute of it! the mother exclaimed. I am exhausted from the trip and need to lie down immediately. Just get us to where we are going. Yes, mother, she complied
GO TO THEM NOW!

Itll be just ve minutes, I promise! Daughter! You must stop this vehicle immediately! Franois, we will get out here, and hail a cab. I cant stop here. Were on the freeway. Then get us off the damned freeway. I cant bear another minute of it. Okay, okay, Madame Chantalle relented. Were almost home. As soon as we get there, Ive got a comfortable bed, so you can put your feet up. GO TO THEM... the voice faded. Ill have you home in no time, Mother! Please just try to be patient!

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***** Another forty-ve minutes had passed before they heard the CLICK! Oh my goodness! one whispered excitedly to the others as she tested the handle. We did it! Were going to make it out of here alive! They tentatively opened the door, looking down the hallway that they had travelled only once before; on their way in. They saw the guards chairs, and the open door leading down to the stairs. The smell of the fall leaves carried up the passageway on a cool breeze. They were going to make it! Lets go! They wasted no time in the hallway, and were halfway down the stairway when one of them stopped. What about Felicity and Elsie? Well have to leave them, said one of the others. We cant afford to be bogged down right now. As soon as were safe, well call for help. They ran then; moving quickly down the street, squinting their eyes into the grey, overcast daylight. The guard looked at his watch as he deposited more coins into the slot machine. It was time he got back to the boredom of his post. The limo driver arriving to pick up the girls would be waiting for him if he procrastinated much longer. Draining his beer bottle, he was heading out the door of the bar when he recognized three of his captives sprinting across the street wearing nothing but t-shirts and pajama bottoms. Swearing, he took off in pursuit, grateful that his security guard uniform would give him the authority he would need to round them up; if he could. If he wasnt successful, he would be a dead man before supper. As the cool draft wafted through the townhouse prison, driving out the stale air of months of captivity, Felicitys eyes uttered open. In the haze of her drugged mind, she tried to grapple with what was different. She rolled out of bed, and fought dizziness as she pushed herself to her feet. Staggering to the kitchen with her water glass in hand, she looked for the other girls in the living room. It was empty, and the door to the outside world was wide open. Elsie! she yelled weakly into her spinning surroundings. Elsie! Weve got to go. Now!

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***** Here mother, please lie down and relax. Papa, have a seat in the recliner over there. I can bring the rest of the luggage up from the car. When I get back, Ill brew us all some tea, and you can tell me all about whats been going on back at home. Madame Chantalle scurried around, working hard to be gracious and hospitable, doing her best to ignore the frequent looks of disapproval regarding her humble living quarters. And though the Messiahs voice continued to hound her soul, she no longer could perceive its once familiar sound:
DONT THINK THAT I CAME TO BRING PEACE TO THE EARTH. I DIDNT COME TO BRING PEACE BUT CONFLICT. I CAME TO TURN A MAN AGAINST HIS FATHER, A DAUGHTER AGAINST HER MOTHER, A DAUGHTER-IN-LAW AGAINST HER MOTHER-IN-LAW. A PERSONS ENEMIES WILL BE THE MEMBERS OF HIS OWN FAMILY. THE PERSON WHO LOVES HIS FATHER OR MOTHER MORE THAN ME DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE MY DISCIPLE. THE PERSON WHO LOVES A SON OF DAUGHTER MORE THAN ME DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE MY DISCIPLE. WHOEVER DOESNT TAKE UP HIS CROSS AND FOLLOW ME DOESNT DESERVE TO BE MY DISCIPLE. THE PERSON WHO TRIES TO PRESERVE HIS LIFE WILL LOSE IT, BUT THE PERSON WHO LOSES HIS LIFE FOR ME WILL PRESERVE IT.

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he afternoon wore on slowly at the Virginia safe house, as each person mourned the loss of Nicodemus. Silent clerics continued to plod along busily with their daily chores, accomplishing their tasks with somber faces and heavy hearts. Monk spent a greater part of the morning on the phone, then disappeared. Alex and Meghan lay on a bed together intent on catching a nap. Stroking the face of his sleeping bride-to-be, the former pastor ruminated in his guilt. It seemed that everything his life bisected, led to destruction. His mom and dad split. His father hated his guts. His coworkers hated him, and he had likely been red from the only job he was ever good at. After his dismissal, the community would probably hate him too. Now, he was responsible for Nicodemus death, and was about to be married to a girl he had once abandoned. How long would it take before they divorced? Perhaps the responsible thing would be to call the whole thing off. Then what? His options were becoming ever more limited. The village of Camden Heights held nothing for him now. And it would be doubtful if any other religious institution would touch him after being blackballed by the First United Congregational Church. All that would be left for him was a dead-end, nine-to-ve job that would allow him to pay his living expenses, and a healthy stipend for alcohol and high speed internet. He would rather be dead. Perhaps that would be the way it would end. It was a commonly known fact that the Great One frowned upon suicide, but perhaps he could go out of this life doing something heroic that he could be remembered for. Maybe he would arm himself to the teeth and storm the United Nations. Suicide by cop wouldnt be such a bad thing. But the better alternative would be to make a family with this beautiful woman lying on his bed. Would it even be advisable to create children? Would he not just destroy their lives as well? A knock at the door quickly returned him back to reality, as he confronted the comforting smile of Monk. The cleric looked worn out. Dont linger in the past, Alex, advised the perceptive man-in-brown, as he seated himself on the edge of the bed. The Messiah gave up his life so that we could have hope for a future. Everything in the past is past; it is gone. We must simply disconnect from it by confessing our wrongdoing. Confession brings healing because it empowers humility. Release yourself from the past, and embrace the future planned for you by the Messiah. She is beautiful isnt she, said Alex, changing the subject by indicating the girl sleeping peacefully next to him.

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Indeed, the cleric agreed. She is lovely. But before you are joined with her in marriage you need to come clean. Hurtful things have happened to each of us in our past. Though we may have had little control over many of these things, they still conspire to lock us up. We get hurt, and we construct strong walls around ourselves to ensure that we are never hurt again. These strong walls are not fabricated with concrete, but with pride. And it is this pride that keeps us anchored to the past, much like the Hatelds and the McCoys, who became incapable of putting an end to their family feuding. This is why we must forgive those who have hurt us. By giving up our right to be offended by the hurtful words and actions of others, the walls begin coming down. Consequently, when we forgive others, well also become more willing to admit our own shortcomings. And soon, the past no longer has any hold on us, because pride has been eradicated from our lives. It is only in this humility, that we can fully embrace the future the Messiah has planned for us. Its going to be important that you dont enter into your marriage with Meghan while still carrying the past. Let it go. I would if I could, Alex spoke quietly, wondering if he should even go forward with the hastily planned marriage. There was no way he wanted to put his wife and children through the same hell that had been so generously doled-out by his own father. You must, Monk insisted. The pride of your past will not mix with your hopes for the future. They are like oil and water. When Meghan awakes, join me in the living room. We have some pre-marriage counseling to work through. So were going to move forward, according to schedule? Alex asked, searching for a loophole that would provide a way out. Even with the tragedy of Nicodemus being murdered, were still going to go ahead with the marriage? Isnt that a little cold? Not at all, Monk quietly assured, patting the younger man on the shoulder. Death in the past has no power to hold back the hopeful plans of the future. ***** The Duke spent the majority of the morning and afternoon reciting lines from the Book of Rites. In the previous days, the same exercise had bored him to tears. Today, things were different; once he started, he could not stop. Strangely, he was beginning to grasp the powerful esoteric meaning behind the odd combinations of words that at one time had led him to confusion and frustration. Surely, it must be a sign that he was maturing

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in the ways of the Craft; either that, or his ritualistic killing of George Talbott had somehow opened his eyes. There was a hypnotic cadence to the words, and like a mystical battery charger, he could sense their increasing power the more he chanted. It was addictive. Once he began reciting the words, he became so consumed that he forgot about his plans to dominate the naughty call-girls from the Wellington Brothers service. They were but small potatoes, compared to the league he was about to join. He smiled at himself in the mirror for the thirteenth time that day, and straightened the bow-tie to his tuxedo, wondered if the power he was feeling would have been even more intense if he had sodomized the old man. Visualizing the process he would have had to go through to harvest Talbotts life force, he shuddered in revulsion. He may be on the road to becoming an adept in the Craft, but there were some lines he simply could not cross. Applying a dab of the hotels complimentary cologne, he smiled again. All of tonights ceremonies would be focused upon him. Important people from all over the world would be in attendance to celebrate him. Tonight, he was going to become initiated into the global elite. Perhaps one day, he would rule them all. Glancing at his watch, he rehearsed his lines one nal time. His limousine would be arriving shortly to take him to the mysterious location of the gathering. He was as ready as he would ever be. ***** Cummon girl, we can do this! Felicity gasped, an arm around the waist of her semiconscious friend. The fresh cool air in the hallway revived the older girl, and though still dizzy, she continued to drag Elsie toward the stairway that would lead them to their freedom. Keep moving. Were almost there! Were going home! Im going to bring you home with me. Elsie, pale and waif-like, managed a smile. Thank you, she mumbled. Youve saved me... again. Just as they took their rst step down the stairway they heard a scufe coming from the sidewalk below them. Get your hands off me! a girl shouted. Get your asses moving, ladies. Yeah, you gave me a run for my money, thats for sure. Now get up those stairs. Hey! Theres no point in getting ugly on the day youre getting shipped out of here. Felicity hung her head. She collapsed to the stairs, bringing Elsie down with her. They sat there in a dumb haze, watching the captured girls solemnly march toward them. It

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was like a bad dream. A nightmare, where something bad was about to happen but paralysis prohibited all movement or conversation. You two didnt get as far as the others, panted the watchmen, and I can see why. You both look like hell. He grabbed them roughly by the arm and led them back into the townhouse door, where he pushed them in. You almost made it. With just minutes to spare too! Your limo will be here to pick you up in twenty minutes, so its time to get on some nice clothes and to make yourselves look pretty. Some of you will need to help these sickos. They look like theyll need it. And with that, he closed and locked the door; one nal time. ***** With her parents still napping in the bedroom, Madame Chantalle began thinking of ways to sooth her agitated conscience. Finding a phone number for the New York State Correctional Department in the blue pages of her phonebook, she made a call. Yes, I am an independent contractor who has been hired to tutor at Corrections Group Home Facilities... ...I teach etiquette at one of your group homes on 52nd Street here in the City. Yes, Ill hold... ...You dont have a group home at 52nd Street? ...Thats crazy, I go there twice a week... ...Its not one of your group homes? What does that mean? ...No... no... Thank you for your time. Hastily scrawling a note for her parents, she grabbed her keys and went out the door. Speeding through the busy streets she prayed that the trafc cops were working on the other side of town. If the girls she had been tutoring had not been living in an ofcial Corrections Residence, why were they being held captive? Had the state begun to outsource out its criminals to private corporations? What of Felicitys constant pleading? Could it be that she was telling the truth, and that she was being held against her own will? Come to think of it, it was unusual to have so many girls of natural beauty incarcerated together. Parking in a tow-away zone, Madame Chantalle labored to move her heavy frame up the stairs at an urgent speed. She scanned the hallway for the guard, but he was nowhere to be found. There were just two empty chairs. Locating the small metal door halfway up the wall which contained a re extinguisher, she felt around for the keys that she had seen the guards retrieve on several occasions during her tutoring days. Her ngers shed out the key ring, and with trembling hands, she unlocked the door. The apartment was empty! Sickened, she traversed to the workout room and pool in the basement, then to the rst oor containing the home theater. There was no sign of her girls.

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Madame ended up in Felicitys bedroom. Disheartened, she awkwardly lowered her large frame to her star pupils mattress on the oor. There were used tissues scattered about, and several empty glasses near the bed. The poor dear must have been ill. Running her hand between the sheets revealed a cold dampness to the touch. When she pulled back the covers, a stale smell of perspiration lled the room. A fever. Felicitys temperature must have been high for some time for her sheets to be so wet. What was that? Her eye caught something under some blankets jammed against the wall. It was the book she had given Felicity. Opening to a page that was bookmarked, Madame Chantalles heart broke as she read the underlined words:
Don't be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Instead, fear the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Aren't two sparrows sold for a penny? Not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's permission. Every hair on your head has been counted. Don't be afraid! You are worth more than many sparrows.

Where are you my girl? Where have they taken you? Was I too late? ***** The limousine with the locked rear doors slowly negotiated the busy, weekend trafc on Long Island. The healthy three lounged in the comfortable back seat drinking soda and eating junk food, while the sick two sat facing the rear of the long, black car in a drug-induced haze. Though the bar was fully stocked with a wide variety of alcoholic beverages, the girls chose to remain sober, hopeful that another opportunity for escape might present itself. Gradually, the trafc thinned, and the road narrowed. The massive beachfront homes were further apart now, and the landscape became more desolate and foreboding. The farther they travelled, the more the healthy three quietly discussed the futility of the situation. The skies had begun to darken with nightfall. Was it a twilight which foretold of their immanent death? ***** Unlike the girls who were locked inside the limousine fty miles ahead of him, The Duke made liberal use of the mini-bar in his shiny, black, chauffeur-driven car. There was plenty of ice, and plenty of whiskey. Reclining the leather seat, so that his feet were up and his head was back, he savored the smooth drink. Tonight was the night! Tonight would mark the moment when everything in his life would change forever!

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Condent that all of his lines for the ceremony were thoroughly memorized, he had left his copy of the Book of Rites back in the hotel room. He had been marinating in their esoteric meanderings all afternoon. Like a successful athlete who was thriving in the postseason, he was peaking at just the right time. Now brimming with occult power, those who were in attendance at the ceremony would conclude that he was not a man to be tried with. He couldnt wait to see the look on the faces of the military meat-heads who had been so disparaging toward him during the previous dinner engagement. Now he would show them what true power was all about. Maybe he would even put Brother Philip in his place. Maybe not.

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he three of them were gathered in the large sunken living room, a crackling blaze in the replace reminding Putnam III of previous conversations hed had with Nicodemus. Alex continued to justify the old mans premature death by telling himself that he was about to die of terminal cancer anyway. Still, nobody deserved to die that way. Why hadnt he just revealed what hed done? Why wouldnt he become transparent now? Would Meghan inadvertently spill the beans about the secret recording during this time of premarital counseling with Monk? Marriage is one of the most treasured sacraments of the Ancient Ways, and for that reason, it is under persistent attack by the Illumined Ones, who would like to redene it, stated the man in brown. It may seem enlightened and compassionate to allow gays to marry, but this is nothing but an illumined ploy advanced by butch, Luciferian homosexuals to make a mockery of the Great One and his children. Pulling out the book from his cloak pocket, he continued: The Ancient Words explain the mystery of marriage in this way: Place yourselves under each other's authority out of respect for Christ. Wives, place yourselves under your husbands' authority as you have placed yourselves under the Lord's authority. The husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church. It is his body, and he is its Savior. As the church is under Christ's authority, so wives are under their husbands' authority in everything. Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave his life for it. He did this to make the church holy by cleansing it, washing it using water along with spoken words. Then he could present it to himself as a glorious church, without any kind of stain or wrinkle--holy and without faults. So husbands must love their wives as they love their own bodies. A man who loves his wife loves himself. No one ever hated his own body. Instead, he feeds and takes care of it, as Christ takes care of the church. We are parts of his body. That's why a man will leave his father and mother and be united with his wife, and the two will be one. This is a great mystery. (I'm talking about Christ's relationship to the church.) But every husband must love his wife as he loves himself, and wives should respect their husbands.

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To understand this truth, we must contrast the Great Ones divine order, which is made known through the Laws of Nature, with the Laws of Chaos promoted by Lucifer and all of his faithful Illumined Ones. Im ready to learn, welcomed Meghan, and am interested in this whole idea of submission to my husband. Her comment caused Alex to recoil. Should he just call the whole thing off? Meghans willingness to submit to him meant that he would be responsible for her. Was he capable of such responsibility? Did he even want it? Why couldnt he just open his mouth to say what was on his mind? Your attitude toward marriage compared to that of many modern young women is commendable! the cleric praised. Many want to be united with their husbands, while remaining the boss of their own lives. This creates a fracture in the divine order, and paves the way for chaos, and consequently, creates rebellious children. The sacrament of marriage is the best way to describe the relationship the Messiah desires between himself and his church. The Messiahs valiant self-sacrice on behalf of the ones he loves, sets an example for every white knight. Princes should love their princesses so thoroughly, that they will give up their life for her. In response to this love, the wife is to come under the protection and leadership of the husband. She then, becomes responsible to her husband, just as the husband is responsible to the Great One. That sounds rather chauvinistic to me, Alex smirked, looking down his nose. To his surprise, Meghan disagreed. This is exactly what I want out of marriage, she proclaimed uninchingly. I want to be led by a man of honor and courage, and I want to support my man in whatever the Great One has called him to. Monked nodded approvingly toward the green-eyed beauty. You are discerning the heart of the matter, Meghan. The love we are speaking about has little to do with the temporary conditions of romance and feelings, and more to do with the eternal qualities honor and courage. For years, the Illumined Ones have used storybooks and other forms of entertainment to brainwash the public into believing that love is about romance and feelings. By doing so, they have undermined one of the pillars of the Ancient Ways: the traditional family. Husbands and wives who no longer feel passionate toward one another frequently divorce; oftentimes destroying the moral compass of their children in the process. True love is about honor and delity; courage and determination; and ultimately, the willingness to give up ones own life for the other. Therefore, the husband is asked to risk his life for the betterment of his wife and children, while a wife is asked to give up

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her desire to control the world around her, in order to provide a space for her husband to lead. This type of love will only work in an atmosphere of humility. Throughout history, many Illumined Ones were the strongest leaders and greatest nancial contributers to the institutions of organized religion. These men were so lled with pride, that they would not sacrice their lives for the betterment of their families. Soon, the religious organizations they supported, began to wrongly interpret the Ancient Words as a way of justifying selsh chauvinism. From their proud hearts, they said: Men are to rule over their households with an iron st. They are to be the kings, and their wives exist to serve them. A noble man should be at a club drinking with his old boys, while the wives stay home to do housework. This abusive blaspheming of the Ancient Words became so rampant that women everywhere banded together to ght against the injustice, birthing woman-pride. Just as Eve was made from Adams rib, the pride of feminism was born from the pride of men. And from this point forward, the sacrament of marriage in western society was doomed to failure. Marriage was intended to be dened by mutual humility and submission. Nobody in America wants to voluntarily submit to anyone any longer. They might submit to the government or an employer out of fear, but very few possess the humility to forfeit their own personal desires, or the control over their lives, at a personal cost to themselves. So, as you can see Alexander, there is nothing chauvinistic about a wife submitting to her husband. When she submits to him, she brings him honor. When you sacrice your life for Meghan you bring her honor. When you honor one another, you will experience the divine essence of true love. This brings great joy to the Creators heart. So basically youre telling me that she needs to do what I tell her to do? Alex felt the chip on his shoulder growing deeper, and was now doing his best to play devils advocate. Monk shook his head patiently. Why must Alexander remain so difcult? In a marriage based on submission, there is no reason for anyone to tell anybody to do anything, because two people have been made one. This oneness is formed by two people who have based their commitment on sacricial giving. Nature reects the Creators intent when the marriage is consummated. When the man and woman give to each other in naked vulnerability, life is the natural result. But none of this can occur without mutual humility. You must always remember this: humility is a force of constant giving; pride is a force of constant taking. The Messiah is the author of all giving. The Light Bearer is the author of all taking. If your married life ever ends up being dened by what youre

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getting from each other, you may as well get ready for a divorce. Then youll really understand what taking is all about! As the ofciator of your wedding ceremony, I am intent that your marriage be successful, and am committed to walking you through any difcult patches you may go through. Alex was unimpressed. Wouldnt that be kind of hard to do, seeing that youve never been married? Monk was undeterred. If Alexanders pride wanted to have a hissy t so be it. The robed cleric suddenly cringed when he heard the echo of a voice whispering into his soul.
PRIDE PRECEDES A DISASTER, AND AN ARROGANT ATTITUDE PRECEDES A FALL!

The man-in-brown grimaced. It looked as if he would have to spend more time petitioning The Great One on behalf of this former pastor. Hopefully the boy wouldnt end up hurting anyone else in the process of thrashing around in his stubborn pride. Alexander. One does not need to be married to understand the virtues of humility, courage, determination, faithfulness, and self-sacrice, Monk explained. These qualities should reside in every person who has been reborn into the Ancient Ways. ***** The rst, of what was to be nearly fty limousines, slowly advanced down the long driveway after successfully passing through a guarded checkpoint at the gate. As they approached the majestic, Long Island manor, the well-three gasped in relieved astonishment. Surely, nothing bad would happen to them at a location where such sophisticated opulence resided. The sick two continued to huddle together in the opposite seat, eyes closed, holding hands. For them, everything continued to be a blur. When the car nally came to a stop at the grand entrance of the enormous summer home, uniformed servants assisted the girls out of the vehicle and escorted them to a luxurious bathroom. Following the instructions to be seated on a padded bench, they looked at each other in awe, commenting on the gold plated faucets and handles, the steamy water rolling in a massive hot tub inset into the oor, and the twenty footlong mirror stretching above a vanity containing six sinks. Three uniformed Asian women then entered the room and instructed them to strip down and get into the hot tub. They complied, feeling awkward at being naked together in this foreign location. Felicity and Elsie required assistance from the Asians, who gave each

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other a concerned look as they helped the two girls remove their perspiration stained clothing. The water was hot... too hot, thought Felicity. She began to blackout out as the steaming, swirling, rush further increased the temperature of her body. She felt their hands then, and the cool of the room through her dizziness, as they pulled her out, lying her onto a towel spread upon the oor. She remained there in a fog, her eyes closed, not the least bit aware or concerned that she was unclothed. With the worried chatter of Chinese a mufed echo in her ears, she stretched her arms outward and felt a soft hand. Turning her head in the direction of the sensation, she gazed into the expressionless face of little Elsie. Her face seemed dead, but her eyes were still alive. There was fear there. Perhaps it was the same look that animals gave one another when they were loaded out of a trailer to be herded into a slaughterhouse. Was there a smell of blood in the air? A moment of clarity entered Felicitys mind, and she began to do her best to reassure the trembling girl beside her. With a gentle squeeze of the hand she recaptured eye contact. Its going to be okay, little one. Im right here beside you, she mouthed the words, but was communicating through her eyes. In that brief connection, Elsies shoulders visibly relaxed, and her petite frame inhaled and released a deep breath. The Asians were powdering their bodies now, with the sickeningly sweet smell of roses. Felicity and Elsie were propped up in chairs along with the others, and all ve of the girls had their hair blow-dried and teased, as makeup was meticulously applied to their faces. The well three fared much worse through all of the fuss, because their minds were capable of arriving at various conclusions about what might be coming next. Finally, each girl stood Felicity and Elsie requiring assistance as the Chinese women covered their nakedness with long, black, hooded robes. The girls were then guided to a sofa in the corner of the room, and told to wait. Before leaving, one of the ladies put a hand on the two sick girls foreheads and chattered some more in her foreign tongue. The others shrugged their shoulders and left the room. Moments later, Maxwell appeared in the doorway. At last, my beautiful praying nuns! You have reached your destiny at last! he spoke disdainfully to the hooded, quivering girls on the couch. Ive brought you a little treat to lend some encouragement before the evening gets under way, he said, brandishing a hypodermic needle and a vial of clear liquid. Offering a yellow-toothed, smoke-stained smile, he smugly assured them: This shouldnt hurt a bit. He lled the syringe, icked the bubbles from it, and proceeded to lift each girls robe well up the leg, before inserting the needle into the thigh. As he carefully metered the

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liquid, his eyes wandered over the girls lower bodies, nodding satisfactorily at the thoroughness of the Brazilian wax-job that had been applied at his direction several days before. When he nally got to Felicity and Elsie, Maxwell pulled away their hoods, studying them carefully. I heard you two looked horrible. Even my Chinese professionals werent able to hide it. Im going to give each of you a little extra happy juice so that you can make it through the evening with a smile. Not that theyll be paying much attention to your faces, anyways! he chuckled, injecting the sick-two who were now fading toward incoherence. After several minutes of the drug coursing through their veins, the well-three had transformed from frightened, sobbing adolescents, into sultry sirens. As Maxwell was leaving, one of them tugged at his arm. Oh Maxy! I just must have some more of your happy juice. Give me a little more will you? she said, lifting her robe to her waist. Maxwell laughed and eyed her hungrily, then turned away. Maybe later dear. The evening has not yet begun and I am way too low on the food chain to have the rst poke at you. Maybe a little later, when the big guns are through. The playful banter reverberated in Felicity and Elsies swirling heads, as both clenched their eyes shut to keep the room from spinning. Help us! Felicity cried out in her soul. Lord God in heaven, rescue us from this nightmare! ***** Modern cultures have pretty much abandoned the necessity for marriages to be conducted with a spiritual ceremony, Monk explained, as he continued to counsel the young couple. Sure, many still get married in a church building, but few truly care to understand the spiritual implications of their actions. By co-opting organized religion, the Illumined Ones have intentionally stripped the west of all meaningful spirituality. You must understand what a great victory this was for them! Never in the history of the world, have people been made so isolated and disinterested in the spiritual world. Within this spiritual vacuum, the Enlightened Ones replaced the Father, Son, and Holy spirit, with the Luciferian trinity of: enlightenment, where the claims of pseudo-science supplant the Ancient Words as the source of human kinds wisdom; secular humanism, where created beings are revered as gods; and a survival of the ttest type of materialism, where greed and covetousness replace the generous charity of a heart that has been won over by the Messiah.

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This has created a population of people who are easily manipulated by the suggestions of the Illumined Ones. When a society has become persuaded to believe in the Theory of Evolution, they have bought into the premise that there is nothing spiritually unique about human beings. From there, it is a but small leap to convince the population that there are no unique gender roles in a family. From there, it is but a small leap to convince the world of the legitimacy of gay marriage. Alex was perturbed. This seemed to be a grandiose waste of time where Monk got an opportunity to preach to the choir. Where are you going with this? he asked. How does this talk about gay marriage apply to the reality that in a few hours, Meghan and I will be married? Gay marriage has everything to do with the two of you getting married! Monk afrmed. Is there something you want to tell me? Meghan teased, looking seriously in Alexanders direction. Were you once a woman? Funny! Alex forced a smile. Im all man, thank you very much. Monk was amused. He continued to be impressed by Meghan. She was precisely the type of girl Alexander would need to keep him on the straight and narrow. Gay marriage, is the antithesis of heterosexual marriage. Therefore, you must conscientiously keep the spirit of homosexuality out of your marriage in order to ensure that it remains healthy. What the hell? Alex thought to himself. Was Monk picking up on the fact that Meghan had once considered being intimate with a girl? Or was he suggesting something about him? After he had observed the cleric discern his senior pastors indelity, Alex knew the man had almost psychic intuition. But, if he was pointing a nger at him, he was wrong. There wasnt a queer bone in his body. Or so he thought. Please expand on that if you will, Putnam III encouraged, a little worried about what might be forthcoming. Gladly! The Laws of Nature determine that heterosexuality is the foundation of procreation. In humankind, two committed parents, express their love for one another through vulnerable intimacy. The resulting offspring must then be nurtured and protected in order to have a ghting chance at survival in a harsh world. In the case of heterosexuality, new life is created and equipped when parents make sacricial gifts of love. The offspring with the greatest chance of survival, will belong to the parents who make the most sacrices, for the betterment of their children. The Laws of Chaos state that only the strongest and the wisest will rise to the top; dominating all others. According to this Luciferian principle, one obtains what one desires, by taking it from others. Homosexuality does not exist to create life, nor to make sacrices to nurture and protect it. Homosexuality exists to steal the life of others through sex; because gay intercourse can create no life of its own.

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Heterosexual marriage represents the union that forms when a human being receives the Messiahs invitation to be reborn into the Ancient Ways. Humility is present, and from this low position, a person becomes willing to serve others sacricially. When humility and an attitude of giving are established through rebirth, humanity nds unity with their Creator. The spirit of homosexuality will create chaos and division in your marriage. Every time you, Alexander, covet another woman, you become a proud taker. Every time, you, Meghan, watch a soap opera or listen to a preacher in church, and wish that your husband was more like such men, you become a proud taker. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. Chaos is created by pride, selshness, and covetous greed. Have you ever wondered why homosexuals who currently have all of civil rights of heterosexuals remain manically obsessed with the concept of gay marriage? Its because the Light Bearer is driving them to blaspheme the Great Ones miracle of heterosexual marriage. Lucifer wants to malign the earthly representation of the Messiahs gift of sacricial love, which brings new life to all those who humble themselves to be reborn into the Ancient Ways. He wants to replace it with a representation of survival of the ttest. Marriage takes two separate personalities, and fuses them together to form one life. This is precisely what the Messiah did to permit humans to be united with the Great One. The outcome, is a relationship that is constantly creating new life. Are we about nished? Alex asked, dgeting in his chair. There were times that Monk could be a real windbag. Almost, replied the cleric. I have already acquired a marriage certicate from the Commonwealth of Virginia, indicating your union. With that, the civil part of things has been completed. However, before we go through the spiritual ceremony in the Great Ones presence, I would like to ask each of you to take a moment now to reect, if there is any spirit of homosexuality within you, that will bring any chaos to this marriage at a later date. Good Lord... Alex thought. Did Monk actually expect him to humiliate himself in front of his future wife regarding his addiction. He didnt give a crap what the cleric or that twitching scientist Anthony Coleman thought. There was no connection between sneaking a peak at the virtual honeys and homosexuality. Another thought came to him then, an obtrusive idea that he quickly pushed aside: was he becoming hard-hearted? Wasnt Monk just trying to encourage them to have a successful marriage? Meghan went rst, confessing her continued bitterness toward men because of the weakness of her father, and the rape. She also recounted how she was tempted to go on a date with her co-worker. Monk petitioned the Great One on her behalf and thanked the Messiah for wiping clean the weaknesses of the past.

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Alex, felt compelled to say something because Meghan had been so transparent. He confessed his bitterness toward his father and then stopped short. It was his wedding night for crying out loud. There really was nothing more to be said. Is that all, then? asked Monk, lingering on the former pastor who was now staring at the oor. Yep!

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he Dukes limousine arrived mid-pack, and he stepped out into a world of prestige and luxury. Greeted by the doorman with a bow, his overcoat was taken from him by another servant, and he was shown to a room that was lling up with all kinds of powerful men. The bar was in full swing, and he ordered an expensive whiskey, and milled about, drink in hand. So youre going to be the new Agency Director? questioned a shortish man with a sloppy-looking ve-oclock shadow; creating a sharp contrast to the fastidious appearance of his formal wear. The Duke nodded, acting disinterested. Who was this little worm? The name is Judson Hallworth, said the little man, extending his hand. Is this your rst time at a Sacrit? I havent seen you around before. What the hells a Sacrit? the agent grumbled. Oh! So its your rst then. A Sacrit is a sacred ritual. The Brethren hold them every other month, which is way too frequent if you ask me. Theres just so much of it that is distasteful, Hallworth dangled a carrot. What do you mean by that? The Duke bit hard. The comment had aroused his curiosity. Oh, I wont spoil it for you. Do yourself a favor though, have as many drinks as you can hold, and stay close to me. Ill help you through most of the tricky parts. Are you surprised to see so many national and international dignitaries here? This is the cremede-la-creme of the global elite. All the movers and shakers. Or should I say, all the string-pullers. What the hell are you rambling about, man? the agent spoke, scanning the crowd in an attempt to indicate his boredom with the conversation. These people are the invisible hand that control the world. They are the grand puppet-masters. And after tonight, you my friend will be playing a leading role in their puppet show. Whatever... The Duke mumbled. Why did this little chatterbox keep speaking? And why did he think it was appropriate to occupy the space beside him? Where were those military bastards who had disrespected him at the dinner? He was going to set them straight before the night was out.

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Across the room the Wellington brothers observed the increasing activity and spoke quietly with each other. See! Philip announced. Weakness attracts weakness. Look who just sidled up to our new Director. Jud Halworth. When are we going to whack that little fool? Never, William was not amused. His family owns the mining company that controls two-thirds of the worlds uranium. Well leave Halworth and all of the members of that family alone. Understand? Of course, he capitulated too easily, and changed the topic. Mr. Duke doesnt have the presence of a man who has just harvested George Talbotts life-force, wouldnt you say? Philip needled. Id concur with that. But you and I both saw the evidence on the news and received a rsthand report from the State Police. The man is capable of getting his hands bloodstained. Thats what we want; a hands-on approach for a change. Philip shook his head with doubt. Yeah, but he doesnt have the instinct. This one doesnt have the balls to go out and get it done. Hes probably better suited to following orders than giving them. Isnt that what we wanted? William commented, cutting off his brother at the knees. Its what you wanted, Philip replied sourly. The tuxedo-clad group were encouraged to get all the drinks they wanted before making their way to the dining area where supper would be served and the ceremony would take place. As the crowd of men shifted between rooms, The Duke searched for the Wellington brothers, anxious to hear their approving words about the Talbott murder. His vision sifted through the many waiters, waitresses and other servants, each scurrying like ants, bending over backwards to assist the guests, and also took note of the more shadowy hirelings. The compound was crawling with heavily armed security who had obviously been well-trained on how to remain invisible to the untrained eye. Through it all, the brothers were nowhere to be found. The agent was puzzled by the isolation he felt among these men who obviously knew each other so well. At the previous dinner where the wives had also been in attendance, many had introduced themselves to him in the presence of the brothers. But tonight, no one paid him homage. No generals, no CEOs, no Secretaries of State, no former Vice Presidents, no presidents of the Federal Reserve Bank, no foreign dignitaries. They were all present, but it was clear that he was a nobody among them. Perhaps it was because that yap-dog Judson Halworth was still at his elbow.

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The dining room was enormous, with splendid chandeliers shining brightly onto ve enormous tables draped in white, which were large enough to sit twenty people each. How strange it was that the place settings indicated that only ten people would be seated at each table, thought The Duke. He found a seat, set down his three glasses of whiskey, and watched as the men gravitated toward their seats according to an apparent pecking order. Judson pulled up a chair next to him, and slowly, the table began to ll, sometimes hesitantly, by men who might have preferred to have been seated elsewhere. What the hell! Tonight was supposed to be all about him, The Dukes inner-voice protested. Why the hell was he sitting with all of the dregs of the Brethren? He had sat down rst. The others had simply found their way as the other tables had lled up. Looking around the room uncomfortably, The Duke quickly swallowed down another drink as his eye caught the milk cartons positioned as the focal point of the centerpieces of the tables. Judson noticed the agent straining his eyes in the direction of the object and sprang to his feet to retrieve it for closer inspection. He handed it to The Duke. Every table has one, explained the stubble-faced man, sliding his chair closer to the agents. On the sides of the cartons are real Amber Alert postings from different parts of the nation. To the hired help, he indicated the servants, we are raising funds through this gala event in order to help such lost souls nd their way home. As Judson spoke, The Duke noticed that every other man at the table was ignoring them. Was it him they were disregarding? Or this little twit who was quickly becoming his associate? He studied the milk carton, and the picture on the side. She was a beautiful girl, with a lovely facial structure and large, expressive eyes. He read the caption:
Felicity Morgan Age: 17 Last seen: May 16th, Bismark, North Dakota

Below the other pertinent information, two more facts were neatly handwritten on the alert with a felt-tipped pen, making it look like a centerfold from Stuart Stepners Playtoyz Magazine:
Measurements: 34-26-34 Turn-ons: Lap-dancing for Crafty old men

Whats this? The Duke questioned. It certainly was out of place. Listen carefully, Halworth said in a hushed tone. Right now, we are in the Outer Courts. When were here, we must be very careful with what we say and do because of them, he indicated all of the wait-staff who were bustling around serving salads.

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The ceremony which will bring you into the Brethren will take place in the Inner Courts. And just where are these Inner Courts? the agent asked. Right here! But everyone who doesnt belong will be gone. That is when you will meet the lovely Miss Morgan here, he said pointing at the picture on the milk carton. The Duke was confused. What do you mean, meet her? Hasnt she gone missing? Youre kinda slow for being the new Agency Director, Halworth whispered with a chuckle, taking a long pull from his drink. The girls are a part of the Brotherhoods human trafcking program. Certainly youre aware that nothing pleases we Illuminati more than symbolism. Ironic symbolism is even more greatly esteemed. Wheres the humor in this milk carton? the agent wondered, turning over the white cardboard half-gallon container in his hands. Halworth grinned, believing that he had found his man. If all went according to plan, he would dodge another bullet tonight, departing from the meeting early. Im personally amazed that you havent gured this out yet. We belong to a fraternity of rapists who get off from nding new methods of taking what isnt ours. Theres nothing more sweet to our brothers than to harvest the life of an innocent, young, plains-state, American daughter. She represents all that is good and pure about our nation. When we gang rape her, its a symbolic act of what the brothers can achieve when we work in complete harmony and cooperation. Gang rape? The Duke was now beginning to understand the need for the copious amounts of alcohol owing around the room. Exactly, Judson Halworth answered, glancing around nervously to see if anyone around their table was trying to listen in. Finding that their attention was directed elsewhere, he added, You will be expected to go rst. They always have newbies go rst, because they are less skilled at harvesting the life force. Its almost as though they give you a chance, just to see how well you are advancing among their ranks. I will likely end up going second. They consider me to be weak, and not a threat. Youre kidding me, right? This is all a big joke? No, its all for real. Leave it up to the Wellington brothers not to tell you what the hell is going on. Theyll be observing from the sidelines somewhere, comparing notes on how well youre performing. I hope youre not prone to stage fright. The Duke pulled ercely from his glass of whiskey.

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Easy there sailor, Halworth advised. You still have to make it through your initiation ceremony with some level of competence. Theyll eat you alive if youre too drunk. When the girl comes out, think of it in this way: Lovely Felicity is a centerfold model. You are but one of her millions of adoring fans who are going to have virtual intercourse with her. Porn is just rape without the physical contact and all the worry about cops banging down your door. So just picture that you get to have real, live, sex with this beauty, and that you are just one of the millions who will give her pleasure. At least you get go rst. I feel sorry for the sons of bitches that have to follow the former Vice President. The man is so big and violent, he always ends up spoiling the fun for whoever is following him. What happens afterward? I mean, wont she have recognized our faces? Halworth was amused at his pigeons ignorance. She wont live to see tomorrow. Brother Philip has a stooge named Maxwell who drugs these little girls with a pretty poison that makes them randy as hell for a couple of hours, and when they beg for more of the cocktail which they always do he slips them something lethal that nishes them off. Before we enter the Holiest of Holies, theyll wheel in a cart to haul out their carcasses. Thats damned cold, the agent said atly. Whats to be expected from the Holies of Holies? he asked the question cringing, not wanting to know the response. Youll have to wait and see for yourself, Mr. Duke, said Halworth, knowing that if his plan would be successful, he would have to play it just right. But I can tell you that youll be wearing a mask. ***** The green-eyed girl returned to the ofce, and now stood alone in front of the man-inbrown with a look of urgency on her face. Monk. Im unsure as to whether or not Ive ever committed my life to the Messiah and to his cause. Before Alexander and I are married, I must make the commitment, along with being baptized. The cleric nodded enthusiastically, guiding Meghan to a chair on the other side of the desk. Thats an excellent idea! What does Alexander think? He told me to go speak with you. Something seems to be bothering him. He hasnt seemed like himself since we went on that trip to Harrisburg. To accomplish the sort of things Alexander and you will be called to do in the future will require a strong-will, Monk explained. But there is a ne line between the Great Ones

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divine gift of perseverance and the digging-in of ones heels in religious stubbornness. Hell eventually work his way through it. As for you, I cannot tell you how proud I am of your decision. Now tell me, why do you desire such a thing? Im tired of myself, Monk. Im tired of going through all the motions without the assurance that I am fullling my lifes purpose. Sylvia exudes such condence. She showed me how a woman can be strong yet submissive to the Great One and her husband all at the same time. She is a treasure, the cleric admitted. The Illumined Ones have misled many women to become proud of their ability to be independent of men. This has caused them to become dened by their gender, just as homosexuals have chosen to be dened by their sexual preferences. But pride whether in the form of feminism, gay pride, or the religious obstinacy of the man who will soon become your husband is nothing more than an enlightened roadblock to the incredible joy which can be experienced when one fully commits their life to another in submission. Monk removed the leather book from his pocket, ipping its pages. The Ancient Words praise strong women. But they dene her strength much differently than the feminist ideals promoted by the Illumined Ones.
"Who can nd a wife with a strong character? She is worth far more than jewels. Her husband trusts her with all his heart, and he does not lack anything good. She helps him and never harms him all the days of her life. "She seeks out wool and linen with care and works with willing hands. She is like merchant ships. She brings her food from far away. She wakes up while it is still dark and gives food to her family and portions of food to her female slaves. "She picks out a eld and buys it. She plants a vineyard from the prots she has earned. She puts on strength like a belt and goes to work with energy. She sees that she is making a good prot. Her lamp burns late at night. "She puts her hands on the distaff, and her ngers hold a spindle. She opens her hands to oppressed people and stretches them out to needy people. She does not fear for her family when it snows because her whole family has a double layer of clothing. She makes quilts for herself. Her clothes are made of linen and purple cloth. "Her husband is known at the city gates when he sits with the leaders of the land. "She makes linen garments and sells them and delivers belts to the merchants. She dresses with strength and nobility, and she smiles at the future. "She speaks with wisdom, and on her tongue there is tender instruction. She keeps a close eye on the conduct of her family, and she does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children and her husband stand up and bless her. In addition, he sings her praises, by saying, 'Many women have done noble work, but you have surpassed them all!' "Charm is deceptive, and beauty evaporates, but a woman who has the fear of the LORD should be praised. Reward her for what she has done, and let her achievements praise her at the city gates."

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Monk lifted his eyes from the book, and fastened them on Meghan. She was a lovely girl who would make a terric wife for Alex. He continued with his thoughts: The divine order of the Ancient Ways is fullled when women meet their husbands with their help. Most men cannot achieve what is before them without the support of a committed wife who is dedicated to her husbands success. The saying, Behind every great man is a great woman, is a truth that can be veried by studying the history of the world. But very few proud feminists, gays, or religious people will ever achieve the Great Ones purpose for their lives because they have become willfully resistant to the principle of submission. Submission is the only mechanism that can initiate a persons rebirth into the Ancient Ways. The Enlightened Ones have convinced the western world that yielding ones life to a greater power is a sign of weakness. But truth be told, this voluntary, passive action actually makes you stronger, as long as the one who is being submitted to, is a leader that has your best interest at heart. And you sense that Alex is that leader for me? Meghan questioned. I sense that the Great One is the appropriate leader for you, Monk claried, and that he has chosen Alexander as the partner who will cover you with provision and protection throughout your lifetime together. Alexander is far from perfect, but I do believe that he is committed to the Ancient Ways, and therefore will have your best interest at heart. It is this fact alone that will make him the perfect captain of your family, with you as his rst mate. People fail to realize how much time and resources the Illumined Ones have spent over the past several generations to convince the west that Yahweh is a domineering maniac who wishes ill-will and violence upon humankind. This is a Luciferian philosophy, which promotes the concept that Yahweh is an inferior destructive god, and that the Light Bearer is the gracious host who enlightens humanity into all wisdom. Consequently, anyone who believes in the Great One and his paternalistic ways are portrayed as backwards-thinking imbeciles. For who would willfully submit to such tyranny? Using the vehicles of feminism and gay pride, the Illuminati have diligently worked to paint people who have traditional values with the same, domineering-maniac brush. Both Yahweh, or those who stand for righteousness end up being nothing more than closed-minded, unenlightened bigots, who are worthy of ridicule. The once noble concept of submission, then becomes retranslated by the Light Bearers mockery. Instead of it being an exercise of ones free will to yield to a higher power, it becomes dened by the perversion of butch gays dressed in black leather, whipping each other into an S&M frenzy on Folsom Street, in San Francisco. But we must begin to understand that there is a treacherous purpose behind this enlightened brainwashing! When humankind is no longer willing to voluntarily yield to

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the Great One and his Ancient Ways, they will be forced to yield to human gods. These Illumined Ones will whip the dumb masses, forcing them to submit to their perverted enlightened philosophies, or face certain death. Such philosophies include the molestation of young boys to bring greater spiritual power to the occult masters. The world has failed to learn its lesson through its experience with Nazi Germany. Im telling you this, because you will be ridiculed in these modern times for submitting to your husband. But you mustnt become discouraged! Voluntarily yielding to Yahweh and your husband shows far greater strength of character than being forced to yield to the immoral propositions of Illumination. When you yield to your husband, you are giving your all to him, in unbridled commitment. This will bring great honor to Alexander. It will free him to lead your family as he, in turn yields to the Great One. Your willingness to yield is what truly makes you a strong woman. And this is why I am so thrilled with your desire to commit to the Ancient Ways through baptism. Meghan was soaking it all in. She desperately wanted what Sylvia had: the beauty of femininity, endowed with regal grace, draped in the virtue of submission. When you are baptized and you give up your old life unto death, you will emerge from the waters as a new person, wholly committed to the Great One and his cause, explained Monk. You will be giving up everything in your past life, in order to be rebirthed into the life that was prepared for you by the Messiah before the beginning of time. In like manner, when you are joined to Alexander through holy matrimony, you will be putting to death your life as a single person, to be reborn as a new person with your husband. I trust you see the parallels? Meghan nodded in excitement. In both cases, you as the person you are now will cease to exist, in order to become a new person through voluntary submission. Your last name will change as an outward symbol of your yieldedness in marriage; inwardly, your life will be submitted to the Messiah, and he too will give you a new name. You will have become a new person, who has died to your old life, in order to live for the Great One and the betterment of others. ***** Supper was a culinary extravaganza, as dish after dish of artistically presented food was served to the group of half drunk men who were almost to the point of being incapable of enjoying it. Throughout the meal, Judson Halworth sat at The Dukes

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elbow, nattering on about this and that, making it all but impossible to join into any meaningful discussion with the others around the table. As the dishes were removed, the bar in the other room was reopened, and people began to mix. Finally free of Halworth, the agent uneasily milled about the rooms looking for the Wellington brothers. Why were there no handshakes and congratulations tonight? Why were the people, who had once been so enthusiastic about him during the previous outing, diverting their eyes from his direction? Was it him? Or was he just being paranoid? He had slaughtered George Talbott, in strict observance to the ritual established by the Craft. Shouldnt that count for something? Even though he failed to sodomize the old man, shouldnt he now be be carrying some element of the old mans power? Where was the reverence among this throng of self-important men? Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the military meat-heads who had treated him so carelessly during the previous dinner. They were pointing in his direction and laughing. Hot anger smoked to life inside The Dukes head, and it clouded his better judgment. Did they expected him to cower, and hang his head in shame? He would show them! Briskly, he walked in their direction; his decisive movement, fanning the ames inside into a raging inferno. Funny, huh? he hissed, looking up into the square-shaped head of an ofcer with a brush-cut. Therell be nothing funny when I nail all your asses to the wall! You might think youre something special, just because you have height and muscle. Youre nothing. You are the scum between my toes. Your asses are mine! he was speaking loudly enough now to make a scene. To his amazement, the ofcers recoiled, apparently shocked that they had been spoken to with such determined ferocity in the company of others. At their retreat, The Duke turned his back, and walked to the bar. It was time for another drink. At this time, I would ask that all of the catering and housekeeping staff prepare to board the commuter bus at the front of the house. Lets give a big round of applause for the fabulous meal service tonight, folks, reverberated the voice of the Master of Ceremonies through the audio system to a smattering unenthusiastic claps. The armed goons in the shadows suddenly made their presence known, and began rounding up stragglers, ling out the door beside them, to take up their positions outside the house. From the shadows of the room, William quietly commented to his brother: It looks like you may have been wrong about our new Director. By the looks of it, Id say that he plans on giving the General and his boys the same reaming he gave to George Talbott. Did you see the way they backed down to him? Id say he harvested every last one of Talbotts entities.

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Yeah, yeah, muttered Philip. Id say it was a convincing bluff. The brass were simply put off-balance by his unexpected aggression. Time will tell, dear brother. Time will tell if you chose wisely or not. As The Duke took his seat, he noticed the appraising looks of those around his table. Even the worm at his elbow must have taken note, because his chair was slid further away, and he appeared to be momentarily speechless. Momentarily... Halworth leaned in, Are you really going to stick it to the General? That will take some balls, he whispered. The Duke sat back in his chair with an air of machoism. Yeah. Ill do it when Im good and ready, he said casually. They had it coming. At the response, Halworth pulled back away, slouching into his chair. He had been lled with such high hopes! Looking around the room in desperation, he was dismayed by its feeling of emptiness. All that remained now were the dignitaries. The Sacrit was about to begin and he did not have an escape plan. The Master of Ceremonies took the microphone, and began speaking. Tonight, we will be inducting a new Master into the upper ranks of our beloved Craft. While we are saddened to bid Director Panlitta farewell, we do wish him the very best of luck at his new post of Secretary of Defense. The crowd applauded, while some, who had already partaken of too much drink, jeered. Mr. Duke, please come forward and approach Grand Master Davenport and Senior Warden Trenton, instructed the M.C, handing the microphone to a man wearing purple robes with a gold triangle suspended from a chain around his neck. Engraved upon the dangling pyramid was the Egyptian imprint of a solitary eye. As The Duke rose to his feet to wind his way to the front of the room, all was silent. There was no calling out; no applause. The crowd, it seemed, was doubtful; as if they were intent on waiting and seeing if he was the real deal. The agent instantly recognized the Grand Master as the military ofcer who had cleared his mind during his meeting with the Council of Thirteen, assisting him to remember many of the protocols of his new position. Would these men actually receive him into their ranks? Mr. Duke, the Grand Master said the name authoritatively. Please remove your watch, your wallet, and anything else of value on your person, and place them in the dish on this table, he pointed. The agent complied, fumbling through his pockets, sensing the eyes of everyone in the room on him. He was then blindfolded, his tuxedo jacket removed, and could feel someones hands working at the buttons of his shirt. The pleated blouse was opened to

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reveal his bare chest, and the sleeve of his right arm was rolled up, along with his left pant leg. A noose was then placed over his neck. Grand Master Davenport continued: As the Sun rises in the East to open and illumine the glorious day, so the Worshipful Master will also preside in the East, and now opens the Lodge, to rule and govern it according to the Ancient Sirian law, by the sage guidance of the Light Bearer himself. Suddenly, there was a loud knocking noise broadcast throughout the speakers in the room. Who goes there? asked the Grand Master. According to the script he had memorized, The Duke tentatively replied: One in darkness, who wishes to approach the Light. What good can be reported of him? asked the Master. The Duke responded, trying to sound more condent: That he is a free-born man, who has no defects nor has been crippled in any way, and who lives in good repute among his friends and neighbors. Do you come with a preconceived opinion of the excellence of our Order, a desire for knowledge, and to make yourself more extensively useful amongst your fellow men? I do, afrmed the agent. The Grand Master then picked up a jewel-handled dagger from the table that served as an altar, and gently jabbed its point into the exposed left breast of his initiate, drawing a slow trickle of blood. As this pricks your esh, so may remembrance also prick your conscience, should you at any time be tempted to betray the trust we are now about to place in you. At your initiation into our Great Brotherhood, this dagger is pressed against your naked left breast, so that if you ever rashly attempt to rush forward, you will be accessory to your own death by stabbing. Not so with this brother who holds it; as he would have only remained rm to his duty. The Dukes nerves were settling down now. Under the darkness of the blindfold, he could feel a surge of mystical energy beginning to grow in him. He was no longer worried about saying the words he had memorized. Everything was now owing freely. He felt the hand of the Grand Master grab his wrist, lifting his hand into the air to knock on the shoulder of the Senior Warden three times, in accordance with the ritual. Senior Warden Trenton inquired: Who comes there.

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One in darkness, who wishes to approach the Light, Grand Master Davenport replied. Brother Senior Warden, I present to you this candidate for our beloved Craft, and crave your fraternal assistance in having him placed in the proper position in order to take an obligation. "Let the candidate stand erect, and face the east," the Senior Warden commanded, forcibly turning The Duke to face the altar. The Grand Master raised his hands in the air, and all in the room came to their feet. Bring him forward, directed Davenport. The Duke was brought to the altar and made to kneel before it. Now place your hand upon the Volume of the Sirian Law and recite your oath of commitment to the Craft. Condently, The Duke recited the words with unmistakable clarity as the noose around his neck was removed: I solemnly swear, in the presence of the Light Bearer and those who carry forth his torch, that I will not write, print, carve, engrave, or otherwise delineate the secrets of the Craft, or cause or suffer them to be done so by others, if in my power to prevent it, on anything movable or immovable under the canopy of heaven; that our magic arts, and hidden mysteries, may improperly become known through my unworthiness. Under no less a penalty than that of having my throat cut across, my tongue torn out by its roots, and to have my body buried in the rough sands of the sea at low-water mark, where the tide ebbs and ows twice in twenty-four hours. May the Light Bearer keep me steadfast in this, my great and solemn obligation as a Master into the beloved Craft." The Duke, following the instruction of the ritual, bent forward, placing his dry lips on the Volume of the Sirian Law, giving it a kiss. In an uninching, booming voice, Grand Master Davenport then inquired, Having been for some time in darkness, to what do you stand most in need? Light! exclaimed The Duke. I command there to be light! Davenport proclaimed, as the blindfold was ripped from The Dukes eyes by the Senior Warden. Now that you can see in the light of darkness, you must ascend the mount, that you may hurl yourself from the pinnacle, to bring defeat to the darkness around you. From a sulfuric crypt inside the bowels of the earth, your brothers will raise you to life again, to be a Master in a nation consumed by light! The Senior Warden guided the agent to a ladder placed beside the altar, and instructed The Duke to climb. As the agent carefully made his ascension, several of the more youthful brothers began to assemble below. When The Duke was teetering at the top of the ladder facing eastward with his back toward the others, he felt a tangible pulse of electricity descend upon him. It would be a

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plunge that would change him forever. He would now rule the earth with these men. If only his mother and father could see him now! Die! shouted the Grand Master. Die! Die! On the third pronouncement, The Duke fell backward on cue, and was caught by the men below, who lowered him onto the oor, keeping their hands beneath his body. At six feet below the surface of the earth, worms shall consume the ignorance of your soul. Now arise. I command thee, by the name of the Light Bearer, arise in the bright light of Sirius. As Davenport spoke, the men lifted him to his feet, turning the agent to face the throng of Brothers standing before him. Greetings Brother Duke, they chanted. We are forever your brothers of the light. Greetings my brothers, replied The Duke. And with that, the Senior Warden fastened an apron made of lambs skin imprinted with a lone eye inside a pyramid around the agents waist, symbolizing his membership to the upper echelons of the Craft. The Grand Master presented him with the Volume of the Sirian Law, shook his hand, and pulled him close in a rough embrace. Releasing the agent, he spoke loudly to the entire room: We will now commence our celebration of this initiation by the Feast of Virgins. Please return to your tables and await the gifts. These as you have now realized by the empty milk cartons gracing your tables have been lovingly raised from infancy by Americas most upstanding families in order to be harvested for our consumption tonight. According to the custom, underlings will partake of the gifts rst. Be reminded to take only that which is yours, leaving that which rightfully belongs to your brother. There is plenty to go around. Exercise self-discipline and save yourself for the Holiest of Holies, where we will consummate our union with the Light Bearer. The Duke breathed a sigh of relief, glad that his time in the spotlight had been completed. He wandered back to his table, apron around his waste, feeling a little drunk, and quite invincible. His indomitable attitude was only shaken by the nagging uneasiness he felt at the mention of the Holiest of Holies. What was the big deal there? Gentlemen! Raise your glasses for a toast, announced the Grand Master, clutching the stem of his wine glass. May we succeed in our great endeavor to birth the New Atlantis! To the New Atlantis! the voices resounded. *****

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Its time, my praying nuns! Gather up your robes. You are about to be introduced to the men who control the world, said Maxwell with eagerness, smacking his lips. The well three could not stop giggling, and as they arose from the couch, one of them playful bit at the assistants ear, giving a guttural growl. Whoa there sweetheart! If youve got any ght left in you after the brothers are through, Ill be glad to take you for a spin. Each of you must remember, these men are worthy of your very best, so dont hold anything back. Give them all youve got! You girls over there, he motioned toward the sick two who remained motionless in their seats, lets get moving. You might not be feeling the best, but the show must go on! He approached them swiftly, jerking them to their feet. They teetered and wobbled, keeping up with the others down the hallway to the dining room only through the constant prodding of Maxwell. The combination of the drugs injected into them by the doctor, and the concoction administered by Maxwell was conspiring toward a loss of consciousness. It was all Felicity could do to keep her feet moving; the smallest sounds echoing like explosions in her head, and blurred vision playing back the world in disconnected slow motion. Elsie seemed to be fairing worse, and the one-time leader of the calm-ve reached for her hand, in a futile attempt to help her along. In the midst of the chaos rippling through her body, a voice at the center of Felicitys being spoke words of comfort, that somehow, managed to steady her.
The LORD is my shepherd. I am never in need. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside peaceful waters. He renews my soul. He guides me along the paths of righteousness for the sake of his name. Even though I walk through the dark valley of death, because you are with me, I fear no harm. Your rod and your staff give me courage. You prepare a banquet for me while my enemies watch. You anoint my head with oil. My cup overows. Certainly, goodness and mercy will stay close to me all the days of my life, and I will remain in the LORD's house for days without end.

She staggered into the banquet hall, to the wild applause and hooting and hollering of hungry beasts. Tugging Elsie along behind her, Felicity tried to hide her face beneath the hood, in an attempt to dim the blinding lights. Suddenly, the two girls hands were forcibly broken apart, and Felicity could feel her body being pushed down onto a hard surface; until she was lying on her back, in the center of a round table; her robe pulled open. The cool, moving air stirred up by the voracious hordes assembling at her feet, served as a contrast to the silhouettes of the same eager men, who burned holes in her exposed esh with their eyes. Time and motion were spinning into one another, and

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she wondered if she would be sick. Turning her head to one side, everything was a blur; everything but the terried look of innocence in Elsies eyes. Felicity held the younger girls stupeed gaze and found herself subconsciously mouthing words she had repeated over many times to her friend in the past week. A softening of Elsies facial expressions indicated that she was absorbing their meaning:
Don't be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Instead, fear the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Aren't two sparrows sold for a penny? Not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's permission. Every hair on your head has been counted. Don't be afraid! You are worth more than many sparrows.

Our new initiates must remember the purpose of the Feast of Virgins, the Grand Master declared to the men congregating around the feet of the disrobed girls. Some had already removed their pants in anticipation. A virgin has never experienced the transaction of intercourse, he continued, caring less that four of the ve girls present were not, actual virgins. Because of this, I remind those who are newer to the deep magic of the Craft to focus your energies to merely extract the life force. There will be plenty of opportunities to harvest and release entities once we reach the Holiest of Holies. America was established by our forefathers as a nation which would permit us to practice our Craft with without persecution. This was prior to the arrival of boatloads of leeching Christians, who attempted to hijack the very purpose for our great nations existence! Lying vulnerable before you, gentlemen, are Christian women; women who pray in ignorance to their wicked god, Yahweh and his weak Messiah; both of which keeps their humankinds minds closed to our message of enlightenment and prosperity. But now were going to show them the light boys! the Grand Masters voice raised to a fevered pitch, and these one-time, good Christian girls have been writhing around all night, in eager expectation to receive what only an enlightened man can give them! So take from them deeply. Partake of their pure life force and become drunk off of their innocence. Take all that they possess, for the Feast of Virgins is the sacred ritual representing how we will take back our land from those whose minds have been darkened by Christianity! The room exploded in wild cheers and applause. Judson Halworth, elbowed The Duke in the ribs. Go! he whispered. Youre rst. Go for a few minutes and then I will follow you.

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The agent looked at the girl lying before him on the table, her robe open from the neck down exposing a gure that was trembling like that of a captured, wild animal. The body was meticulously groomed, but the face, partially hidden by the hood looked pale and sickly. He reached out and grabbed her thighs with his hands, when the trembling stopped! Suddenly, muscles, once alive with twitching vibration, became dead weight. Had she passed out? In startled confusion, he looked around at the group of men surrounding him, who were clearly growing agitated by his hesitation. I think shes dead, he said, loud enough for the group to hear. Miene eez dead too! exclaimed a German from the next table over, who was leaning over a petite waif of a young girl, searching for a pulse. ***** Wisps of radiance, much like the sunlight ltering through a curtain blowing in the wind, surrounded them as they joined in an embrace. Felicity! shouted Elsie, releasing her friend to twirl around in the weightless air. How I love you, my sister! You look terric! Felicity exclaimed, taking in the radiant beauty of her exuberant friend. So do you! What a beautiful white dress! Where are we? Where are we going? They seemed to be oating upward, and when Felicity eventually looked down below, a look of horror ashed across her face. The man who had touched her legs just before she had passed out, was now pushing his torso into her lifeless body to the wild cheers of the men around him. What is it? Elsie asked, alarm in her voice. Dont look down, the leader of the calm ve commanded. Wicked things are taking place, and we are well to be away from it, she said, running her ngers through Elsies sparkling hair. Becoming momentarily distracted by her friends heavenly appearance, Felicity exclaimed: Pinch me Elsie! Tell me this isnt a wonderful dream. Just then, the girls attention became captivated by a brilliant gure, quickly approaching them.
SISTERS! MY DEAR SISTERS! IM SO SORRY! cried out a man running toward them. He gathered the girls into his arms, and kissed the tops of their heads, over and over.

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Felicity felt no awkwardness at the immediate closeness of the stranger. She failed to recognize his face, but his voice had familiar ring. A lump began to form in her throat when she heard the quiet sobbing of Elsie who was crying like a child; a helpless babe who had been lost for years, but had somehow managed to nd her way home. Could this man be him? Was this their Messiah?
SISTERS. I TRIED SO MANY TIMES TO FREE YOU FROM YOUR PRISON! WHEN IT APPEARED THAT ALL WOULD BE LOST, I GRANTED PERMISSION FOR THE ILLNESS TO COME UPON YOU.

Felicity pulled away briey, studying the man she knew she had come to love. His face was lined with kindness: he was not old or young, nor handsome or plain; he was indescribable, yet beautiful, much like a gentle breeze on a hot day. She collapsed back into his arms, believing that if she clung tightly enough, she would melt into his being. Everything is okay, Messiah, she reassured in the motherly manner she had acquired over the past few months. You saved us, just as your word said it would be! Thank you! Thank you! she repeated in adoration. Then she pulled back again, and the sudden motion caused Elsie to do the same. Where are the others? Felicity asked, searching the unsearchable face of her savior. The Messiah nodded downward, a pained look coming across his face. THEY DIDNT
MAKE IT. IN THE END, THEY DIDNT CHOOSE THE ANCIENT PATH TO FREEDOM.

I must go back! Felicity proclaimed intensely. I have to go back to save them!

ITS TOO LATE, SISTER. I INVITED THEM INTO THE FAMILY THROUGH ELSIE HERE, he said, squeezing the younger girl close, AND THEY CHOSE ANOTHER PATH. EVIL WILL NOW COMPLETE ITS CONSTRICTING SUFFOCATION OF THREE MORE MAGNIFICENT CREATURES WHO WERE ORIGINALLY CREATED BY ME TO ALWAYS BE FREE.

But will they be okay? asked Elsie, looking up into the Messiahs eyes intently, as would a toddler wanting the reassurance of a protective older brother.
NO, he

replied with dread, gazing once again at the nightmare unfolding in the ballroom of the Long Island mansion. EVERYTHING WILL NOW COME TO AN END FOR THEM. THREE
MORE BEAUTIFUL SOULS HAVE FALLEN INTO THE DESTRUCTIVE HANDS OF THE ANGEL OF LIGHT, he mourned. MY SORROW AND REGRET IS ETERNAL, BUT I MUST REPECT THEIR DECISION TO LIVE WITHOUT ME. THE ANCIENT WAY OF PERFECT LOVE AND UNCOMPROMISING FREEDOM GIVES EVERYONE THE CHOICE TO DETERMINE THEIR OWN DESTINY. ONLY THOSE WHO ARE CONTENTED IN BEING WEAK AND HELPLESS END UP BEING HUMBLE ENOUGH TO CHOOSE ME.

The Messiah then looked up, facing the brilliant source of radiance cascading from the far off horizon. LET US NO LONGER DWELL UPON THIS SADNESS, he said, redirecting the girls focus from the activities taking place below. IT IS A DAY OF REJOICING! A PLACE HAS
BEEN SET FOR YOU AT MY FATHERS TABLE. LET US NOW GO AND JOIN HIM.

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Chapter 53 T
he spiritual intensity was tangible as Alexander and Meghan stood before Monk, holding one anothers hand. All the events of the past few weeks had led to this moment; this hour of commitment. Putnam III prayed that he would not be a disappointment to his new wife. Only the Great One knew his secrets, and he was intent on keeping it that way. He was sure God was disappointed in him, believing him to be a fraud. Why would he want Meghan to know him in the same way? If push came to shove, would he sell his new bride down the river just as quickly as he had Nicodemus? Would he end up treating her in the same way his father had treated his mother? He shuddered at the thought. There were now eight of them in the expansive living room which overlooked the valley below. Nicodemus would have made nine. Wearing the casual clothing Monk had purchased for them while in town, Alex and Meghan stood before the head cleric nervously, while the rest of the men in brown formed a semi-circle around them. Before getting on with tonights proceedings, said Monk, let us bow our heads for a moment of silence, in solemn remembrance of our dear friend Nicodemus, who was to be the best-man for these ceremonies. I know he would have wanted to be here with us. In the ensuing silence, the former pastor stared at the oor miserably, while the monks and Meghan shed silent tears. Two nights ago, the old man was still alive. He wasnt healthy by any stretch of the imagination, but he was alive. Why hadnt Alex just told them about the recorded conversations, and that he was fairly certain after his meeting with Anthony Coleman that the les on the laptop had been compromised? What was the worst thing that could have happened? Having to endure another of the old mans tirades, as he incessantly called him a piss-ant? Or watching Monk become visibly frustrated for a moment, only to forgive him ve minutes later? If only he had been capable of enduring ve minutes of shame, Nicodemus wouldnt have gone to to New York City in the rst place. He would be standing beside him now. Monk interrupted the long silence, speaking with formality: We are gathered tonight in celebration of the decision of Meghan Kiplinger and Alexander Putnam III to unite in the sacrament of holy matrimony. But before the marriage ceremony, let us commence with the sacrament of baptism.

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Meghan, you have expressed a sincere desire to make the Messiah your King, that you may honorably participate in his cause as one of his white knights. Let it be known that the Great One is no respecter of feelings. His sole interest is in your commitment. In like manner, your marriage to one another must not be based on feelings. When you stub your toe on a piece of furniture in the middle of the night, you may feel badly at the time, but it should have no impact on your commitment to the spouse who left the chair out of place. Feelings are not reliable. As knights in the Messiahs cause, and as a married couple, you must learn to disregard nite feelings, choosing instead, to trust in the innite virtues of loyalty and commitment. Please follow me, Monk instructed, sliding open a door, leading the throng into the starry night. They proceeded onto a deck which wound around toward the front of the house, where it stood thirty feet above ground-level, overlooking the valley below. A large hot-tub bubbled and steamed into the cool night air, and Monk motioned for the two of them to step into it, wearing the clothes they had on. The drastic change in the physical environment, and the magnitude of the commitment his future wife was about to make, served to distract Alexander from his previous disposition of introspection. As he stepped down into the rumbling hot water he became overwhelmed by emotion. With the three of them waist deep in the water, Monk continued with the ceremony. I have asked Alexander to assist with your baptism because as your husband, he will be responsible to nurture and to guide you spiritually. These churning waters represent the ow of a river that washes everything that is imperfect and impure out to the sea. Meghan, you are a beautiful young woman, both inside and out. You are talented and gifted beyond measure. You have a sharp wit, and acute intelligence. But all of this means nothing to the Great One, unless it can be reborn into his perfection, in accordance to the Ancient Ways. According to the ways of the world, you are a lovely creature, blessed by the heavens. But I proclaim that you come up short of the Great Ones standards. You carry a pernicious enlightened disease; a curse placed upon you by Lucifers touch of illumination in the Garden of Eden. This disease has opened your eyes, and has corrupted your soul. When Alexander and I submerge you beneath this churning ood, the disease will be washed away, and you will emerge from the waters a new person, reborn into the Ancient Ways. All of this will happen because you have believed that the Messiah was sent by the Great One to save you.

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Just as the Messiah was obedient unto death, and was resurrected to life on the third day, your decision to follow the Great One will bring death to you, Meghan Kiplinger. When you are submerged, you will experience death, and you will emerge, a new person, a resurrected creature lled with the spirit of the Great One, himself. Through this act of faith, your rebirth into the Ancient Ways will be initiated. As the old Meghan Kiplinger, do you have anything you wish to say, before being rebirthed into your new life? Yes, she said unwaveringly. Unlike Alex, who was now snifing in attempt to hold back a wave of emotion, Meghan was steady and true. I announce to both heaven and earth that I am tired of who I am. I dont like the person I have become, and I know that I am incapable of becoming someone different out of my own strength. For this reason, I will die to my old-self, that I may be rebirthed into a new creature, her voice rang out into the crisp autumn night. I trust that the Messiahs sacrice on the Cross was the act of obedience which makes my rebirth possible, she continued. I welcome the Messiah as my new older brother and my King. As a knight in his kingdom, his wish is my command. Where he leads, I will follow. And as a loyal subject of the Messiah, I will serve him honorably for the remainder of my life, that his cause may be advanced on earth as it is in heaven. So bring death to my mortal, corrupt nature, that I may emerge reborn as an eternal vessel that will forever be useful to the King. Amazed at the bold, unrehearsed speech, Alexander gulped back his tears and placed his hands on Meghans back, assisting Monk as he plunged her beneath the rumbling waters. ***** Are you really going to nail the General and his boys? Judson Halworth asked. You dont strike me as strong enough to overpower them. Yeah... replied The Duke dourly. His mouth may have been answering the question but his mind was somewhere else. Although he was certain that at least two of the girls had been dead before the gang rape had begun, the Grand Master had yelled for them to nish what they had started. Dead or alive, America would only be conquered by taking from her children and grandchildren, he had proclaimed. Hesitantly, the agent did his best to appear enthusiastic while molesting the pale, unmoving body, as the rest of the dignitaries at his table urged him on; shouting and howling like a pack of coyotes who had the smell of blood. When the crowd began insulting him for taking too much time, he backed away and let Halworth have a turn.

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When the last man had partaken in the Feast of Virgins, the group gathered for a toast and some more drinks, making observations about each others performance. The booze was owing freely throughout the uproarious room, and Maxwell used the opportunity to administer another needle to the arms of the spent girls who were now ignored by the boisterous male crowd. He then, inconspicuously wheeled around a grey, deep-walled, plastic linen cart, stacking the bodies on top of each other. Covering the corpses with a table cloth, he pushed the heavy load toward a service exit, where he was stopped by Brother Philip. Maxwell! Be sure you burn those damned milk cartons. We cant afford any untimely coincidences. And take a little trip will you? This group of girls was special. We need to extricate every ounce of spiritual potential from them. The assistant looked confused. If they arent dead now, theyre well on their way boss. Im not sure theres much more that can be taken from them. I know that, you idiot! Philip snarled. When you dump the bodies, leave one back in the City, then drive up to Boston and throw one in a refuse container up there. After that drive south, dropping the other three in Philadelphia, Baltimore, and D.C. You know the routine. Sure thing boss. It wasnt the rst time he had been instructed to take the route. Though The Dukes head was awash in whiskey, his brain continued working overtime in an attempt to process what had just taken place. He could not decide if he should feel powerful, perverted, or polluted. At the M.Cs request, everyone retired to a massive locker room where each found a station outtted with a robe and a mask. Since the agents performance with the dead girl, Halworth had not left his side. Whats this all about? The Duke inquired, following the lead of the others by stripping naked and donning the robe. This is where we dress up like prize ghters, grinned Halworth. Youre just getting prepared to take it to those military boys youve had your eye on. What the hells that supposed to mean? It means that youre now preparing to enter the Holiest of Holies, replied the stubblefaced man maintaining a straight face, where you will force the general and his boys to submit to you.

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Like this? The Duke asked disbelievingly with arms outstretched in his black robe, a half-mask disguising his eyes, nose, and forehead. Eventually the robe will come off, but the rules state that everyone but the fresh meat has to keep on a mask to ensure condentiality. Fresh meat? Yeah. All the teenaged boys they truck in from San Fran that were going to have sex with, Halworth said casually, carefully observing The Dukes response. Perhaps the agent would be his way out, after all. The Duke ripped the mask from his face, eyeing the shorter man nervously. Youre kidding me, right? I aint no homo! the agent said in a lower voice, looking from side-toside to ensure that the comment had not been overheard. Halworth smiled cheerfully. He had found his man. Neither am I. You could imagine my surprise when my father signed me up for these little shindigs and I came to realize the awful things that were expected of me. Theres isnt enough booze on the planet to drown my disgust. Why dont you just quit the Brotherhood? The Duke whispered, now sitting closely to the man he had once been trying to shake. You dont quit the Brotherhood, stated Judson Halworth. I wouldve expected you to know as much. Didnt George Talbott meet with the Council of Thirteen yesterday in order to do just that? You know about that? The Duke exclaimed under his breath. You know that I did it? We all know. Accountability is maintained within the Brotherhood by the selective release of secrets throughout its ranks. This is why we swear an oath of allegiance to one another. It is why the same judge will dismiss a case against one Wall Street tycoon, and will throw the book at an investor caught doing the same thing. It is why the President of the United States does exactly as he is told. Its just like the joke thats told over and over by the Brothers. What joke is that? the agent wondered. Who was the last President we didnt own? The punch-line: The last President who was assassinated. The release of secrets keeps everyone loyal to the Cause. And thats what the activities that take place in the Holiest of Holies are really about. How so?

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The more advanced brothers claim that it is all about acquiring more powerful entities while releasing the problematic ones, Halworth explained in low tones. To them, its like the game of Prisons and Serpents where you are trying to acquire the most powerful demons. But I think that all this monkey business is about the power of shame. If I know that my brother has sodomized some needy kid from San Fran, I can be assured that hell always have my back. And vice-versa. I would be worried if I were you... uttered the short man with a serious tone, donning his mask. But wed better rejoin the rest of the group. Wait!!! What do you mean by that? there was a look of desperation in The Dukes eyes. Halworth worked hard to disguise a thin grin. The more senior brothers are convinced that you harvested George Talbotts entities last night before he died. Because of this, the Frisco twinkers are going to be the last thing on their minds. They think that youve got something they want. Unless you go out there and start dominating some fresh meat, youre going to be a target. But I never did it! Hell, the old man was a cancer-victim. I just killed him thats all. Surely they were told as much? The last of the inebriated brothers had now left the change room, leaving the two of them alone. Judson Halworth took the opportunity to close the deal. You think that either of those Wellington brothers are capable of the truth? We were all briefed that you harvested the old mans life force before you murdered him. Why do you think the general and his boys stood down when you verbally assaulted them. Theyre afraid that youve got something that makes you more powerful than them. Theyre all just waiting to see what youre going to do out there. What should I do? The Duke pleaded. Either go out and start busting some broncs, or pretend youre interested in me. Well put on a good enough show without getting too touchy-feely, and then well leave together, like were going back to a hotel. When we get back into the City, Ill go my way, and you go yours. Trust me, theres nothing that youve got, that I want. The Duke stared at the repugnant little man before him, knowing that he had no other choice. Had he realized from the beginning that ultimate power would come at such a steep price, he would have never invested in it so heavily to begin with. *****

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With everyone now changed out of their wet clothes following Meghans baptism, the marriage ceremony ofcially began. Alex and Meghan stood before Monk in the warmth of sweaters and jeans, while the rest of the clerics completed a circle around them. In all his years of experience with religion, Alexander had never encountered what was next to come. One of the monks began leading a song in a deep, bass voice, and the others joined in, repeating the words sung by the leader. It was the rst of many unscripted moments in a ceremony that would ow with perfect harmony. Next there was a prayer blessing over the marriage by another cleric. This was followed by a prophesy, which eloquently professed the truth of the Ancient Words in such a personal way over the hand-holding couple, that it made them sob in ecstasy. Then there were more impromptu hymns and prayers. Each man-in-brown took a turn leading the others. There were no spectators in the ceremony; everyone was a participant. At last, Monk addressed the couple, who were now basking in the pure love which is naturally present, when the inuence of organized religion is excluded from the proceedings of the Ancient Ways. Alexander and Meghan, you are about to embark on a journey of oneness together. Your union will reect the union you individually share with the Great One. Over time, you will begin to think, feel, and act as one person; and some claim your physical appearance will even begin to change, until you look alike, in old age. The identical thing occurs when we are reborn into the Ancient Ways. With each passing day, we begin to think, feel, act and even look, less like our old selves, and more like the Messiah who came to deliver us from the clutches of eternal death. The Illumined Ones have created a system-of-belief in the world that glories the selsh motives of proud individualism. In this system, humankind has been taught to be takers: might-makes-right materialists, who live to consume as much as they can before they die. Through this system of belief, many nations of the world have become controlled by societies of rapists: who exploit the earths natural resources for prot; who steal from the children of future generations for the sake of instant gratication; who devour the vibrant spiritual energies of humankind in an attempt to satisfy their unquenchable lust for power. Those who enter into a marriage under the inuence of this illumined system-of-belief are misguided fools, who upon saying their vows are already embarking upon the rst stage of their divorce. But the Ancient Ways have shown a better way. The Messiah gave up his life, in order to bring freedom to his bride. And consequently, the bride who is made up of each person who has been reborn into the Ancient Ways is to reect such sacricial generosity by willfully submitting to his headship. In this synergistic atmosphere of

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giving, true unity is established. For soon after, it becomes difcult to tell the bride from the groom as they have truly become one. Be warned, that just as organized religion has subtly injected its enlightened wisdom into spirituality in order to bring people under its control, the Illumined Ones also want to inuence your marriage in order to acquire access to your offspring. You will be tempted to go into debt to buy a home and to have all of the things such a home will need. This will keep you so distracted by busyness, that you will forfeit your children and their future, for trinkets. You will be tempted, Alexander, to allow Meghan to spiritually lead your home. If you allow Meghan to lead, you will end up practicing organized religion in a local church, who will be more than happy to provide you with a service, for your money. They will teach your children how to be passive consumers of religion; making them adepts in the ne art of hypocrisy. You were designed by the Great One, Alexander, to lead your family. Meghan was designed to help you achieve your mission. When you fail to lead, you will forfeit your mission, rendering your children vulnerable to the inuence of illumination. Alexander. If ever there is trouble in your home, the Great One will hold you personally responsible. If you run roughshod over your wife and children, acting like a dictator rather than their white knight, you will be shamed in heaven. But if you practice chivalry according to the prescriptions of the Ancient Ways sacricing your selsh desires on behalf of your family honor will be yours. Meghan, you will break the spirit of rebellion over your future children by yielding to your husbands leadership. By your attitude of submission, they will learn that there is a divine order that was meant to be revealed in families, just as it is in nature. Though a mare may be a guiding inuence on her foal, she will always yield to the direction, provision, and protection of the stallion that leads the herd. Honor will become yours in heaven, when you bring honor to your husband and household through yieldedness. Everything about the Ancient Ways is established by the Law of Sacricial Giving. This is in great contrast to the Way of Illumination, which functions according to the Law of Taking of That Which was Never Meant to be Given. ***** Just stick next to me, said Judson Halworth under his breath to the agent following closely behind. The two masked men hastily departed the change-room, joining the others in the chamber that had become the Holiest of Holies.

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At this point, The Dukes aspirations of becoming an inuential force in the global arena had begun to unravel. Each passing minute brought new doubts regarding his ability to successfully compete among these men. Sure, he could be a killer and a thief, but did he possess the instinct to dominate at all costs? He searched the room furtively for the tall, massive bodies of the general and his boys, but came up empty. Masked and robed, everyone looked the same. Would the spirits that possessed him so thoroughly during his torture of George Talbott be powerful enough to force the military boys to submit? Was he strong-willed enough to make them submit? The thought of it turned his stomach. Men were never meant to engaged in intercourse with other men! It just wasnt natural. He wondered if he might become ill. Gentlemen! To your stations! the voice of Grand Master Davenport boomed, unassisted by the audio system. With the ve round tables and the chairs that were once placed around them removed, all that was left was an open, carpeted oor. The lights were dimmed, and the masked men in black robes spaced out evenly around the walls of the room in an eerie silence. Bring in the boys! the Grand Master ordered. At the command, Maxwell opened a door, and ushered in thirty-nine young men in white robes to the center of the room, where the lights suddenly became brighter. Many of the effeminate males looked startled and fearful, while others eyed the room curiously. For the latter, the money and the promise for powerful political connections had been too tempting to resist. They were veterans of previous Holiest of Holies engagements, and were now eagerly looking to use this tour of duty as an opportunity to reconnect with favorites from the past. Gentlemen, allow the Light Bearer to guide you this night; for it is the only way in which you can enter into Holy Communion with him. When you partake of the esh and blood of these boys, consume them thoroughly. Do it in remembrance of the Light Bearer who daily risks his life against the wickedness of Yahweh on your behalf; that we may each be directed into even greater illumination. Let the feeding begin! A mad scramble suddenly broke out as white-robed favorites sought out their blackrobed counterparts by calling out. The less assertive were grabbed violently, and shoved to the oor. As a frenzied orgy of debauchery ensued in the center of the room, Judson Halworth clutched the front of The Dukes robe, yanking him off-balance, and tumbling him to the oor. The agent landed on top of Halworth, clamoring loudly in an attempt to remove himself from the little man. Stop it! Halworth hissed, inhibiting The Dukes retreat. Pretend youre taking from me! Hell no! The Duke yelled in a panic, his crazed response becoming lost in the moans and groans of wild beasts competing to harvest the most powerful entities. Though he

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continued his furious ailing in an attempt to remove himself from of the stubble-faced man, he was unsuccessful. Pretend youre taking from me! Go ahead! Leave the robes in place. Just do it violently, so the others will be convinced! You may not know it, but everyone is watching to see if youre the real deal. If they smell that youre a fraud, youll be sitting on a damned inatable donut for the next two weeks, truly knowing the shame of what it is to be someones bitch! Governed by the fear created by Halworths words and the horric reality of what was developing around him, The Duke began to violently throw around his prey while the smaller man pleaded loudly for mercy. Even the whiskey was of no help to the agent now. He seemed stone-cold sober; in the middle of a nightmare. I told you he wasnt the man for the job, said Philip to his brother smugly, from a dark corner of the room. If he had actually harvested Talbotts life-force and entities, he wouldnt be chasing down some weakling like Halworth. Hed be right there at the center of it all, in competition with the rest of them. So I was wrong! William shrugged in bitter agitation. Its never happened before and it wont ever happen again; so dont act so pleased with yourself. Ill dispose of him, and well be back to square one. I think Ill give Militello a chance at Director next. Perhaps one of our own will be a better t. Yes, but Militello has a mind of his own, Philip goaded mercilessly. I didnt think you had the capability of working with such men. Shut up! snapped the Head of the Brotherhood. I work with assholes like you everyday! ***** A reverent hush came over the safe-house as Alex and Meghan said their vows in the presence of the Great One; mystically creating one person, out of two individuals. A monk concluded the ceremony with a nal spontaneous, unknown hymn. In beautiful harmony they repeated the melody and the lyrics, lifting praise to the Almighty. Opening his leather-bound volume, Monk stood in front of the couple, reading from the Ancient Words:
On the night he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took bread and spoke a prayer of thanksgiving. He broke the bread and said, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me."

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When supper was over, he did the same with the cup. He said, "This cup is the new promise made with my blood. Every time you drink from it, do it to remember me." Every time you eat this bread and drink from this cup, you tell about the Lord's death until he comes. Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks from the Lord's cup in an improper way will be held responsible for the Lord's body and blood. With this in mind, individuals must determine whether what they are doing is proper when they eat the bread and drink from the cup. Anyone who eats and drinks is eating and drinking a judgment against himself when he doesn't recognize the Lord's body. This is the reason why many of you are weak and sick and quite a number of you have died. If we were judging ourselves correctly, we would not be judged. But when the Lord judges us, he disciplines us so that we won't be condemned along with the rest of the world.

We were instructed by the Messiah to consume bread and wine to remind us of critically important events of the past. Everyone who chooses to be reborn into the Ancient Ways must make a commitment to establish their future upon each of these lessons of the past. The Messiahs physical death was a perfect sacrice: a seless act that fullled every requirement of the Eternal Law; freeing humankind from the judgment reserved for the Light Bearer and his enlightened followers. The Messiahs death reminds us that in order to live for the Great One, we must rst die to the pride that dominated our old selves; choosing the path of humility and sacricial generosity. The resurrection of the Messiah is a promise that evil will not defeat those who have died to their pride. The Light Bearer tempted Adam and Eve to eat fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, knowing that as soon as they consumed it, they would be in proud competition with the Great One, rather than in humble cooperation. Therefore we must submit our lives before the Almighty, choosing to partake of the Tree of Life, rendering evils eternal death powerless. When these lessons of the past are adopted by the people of a nation, freedom, prosperity, and life are the natural outcome. It is only when we choose to align ourselves with the Light Bearer and his Illumined Ones that enslavement, indebtedness, and death begin to dene a society. Alexander and Meghan, you have both chosen to live according to the Ancient Ways. Regarding this choice, the Messiah has instructed us that:
Those who want to come with me must say no to the things they want, pick up their crosses, and follow me. Those who want to save their lives will lose them. But those who lose their lives for me will nd them. What good will it do for people to win the whole world and lose their lives? Or what will a person give in exchange for life? The Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father's glory. Then he will pay back each person based on what that person has done.

Therefore, before we partake of the bread and the wine, we must take a moment to reect on whether or not even the slightest strain of pride has infected our hearts; for

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the Ancient Words tell us that a little yeast will work its way through all the dough. As we remember the Messiahs death and resurrection, we must judge ourselves, in order to avoid the consequences of what takes place when pride takes root in our lives. The Ancient Words tell us to admit our sins to each other, and to pray for each other so that we will be healed. Openly proclaiming our shortcomings brings healing because it restores us to a position of humility. So lets all take a moment to purge the pride of life from our midst, indicating our cooperation with the Great Ones ways. As each of the monks and Meghan took turns rattling off what seemed to be negligible offenses against the Great One, Alexanders heart began to beat wildly. Was this the time to come clean? Should he tell them that he was responsible for Nicodemus death? That he was a hopeless addict in disguise as a pastor? That in Harrisburg he had recognized Sylvia as the porn actress named Samantha Boswell, because he had fantasized about her on his computer screen for so many years? That he was afraid of mistreating Meghan in the same manner his father had abused his mother? That he felt like a complete and utter failure? But what would they think of him then? How would Meghan perceive him? Certainly not that he was capable of being her white knight. This wasnt the time for a fulledged, public confession. It was his wedding day for crying out loud. Before partaking of the bread and the wine, I wish to confess my fear, that I will one day become like my father, who harshly mistreated my mother, Alex nally revealed. My desire is to always treat Meghan as though she were my beautiful princess. While speaking the words, he zeroed-in on the beaming face of his new wife, avoiding Monks unrelenting gaze. It was the best admission he could muster, considering the circumstances. Alex was convinced that he had managed to sound both vulnerable and altruistic, while stating nothing out of the ordinary that would kill the atmosphere of romance. After an uncomfortable silence, Monk continued: Now that we have judged ourselves honestly, let us partake of the bread, remembering the Messiahs body that was broken for us. The cleric lifted the bread into the air, saying, May his brokenness lead us to our brokenness; to a life of patience and humility. To brokenness! To brokenness! the group resounded. Just as Alex was about to put the bread in his mouth, he heard the disquieting resonance of a familiar voice speaking from the pit of his soul:
PRIDE PRECEDES A DISASTER!

He jammed the bread into his mouth chewing the dry morsel furiously, hoping to drown out the warning-voice. Now is not the time! Dammit!

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Monk then lifted a glass of wine in the air, encouraging the others in the room to do the same. To our Messiah. Tonight, we remember how you selessly satised the requirements of the Eternal Law by becoming our blood sacrice. We raise our glasses to you, Mighty King! Help us to bravely risk our own esh and blood, as we inltrate this evil world, fullling your wishes to extricate all of those whom youve called. To our Messiah! To our Messiah!
...AN ARROGANT ATTITUDE PRECEDES A FALL!

Alexander drank deeply of the wine and shook his head, trying to remove the sound of the voice from his ears. At his sudden movement, Monk laid him bare with a piercing gaze. Though the clerics mouth did not move, Alex sensed the man in brown was listening to his thoughts. Get it out into the open, boy. Expose yourself. Now is the time! At last, a third voice chimed its opinion into his mind. It said two words: Hell no. Hell no! ***** The scene was not dissimilar to what was a daily occurrence in many of San Franciscos bath-houses. In the heightened frenzy of men exchanging spiritual entities and bodily uids, Bother William was forced to plug an ear, attempting to hear the other voice through the receiver of his cell phone. Yeah... Militello? Your big break is here. Mr. Duke has ended up being a disappointment and has brought substantial shame upon the Brotherhood. I need you to come down here to complete our transaction with him. If you can manage that, while sweeping up what remains of the Talbott mess in Washington, the job of Director will be yours. Ill be there in the morning, said the agent with an uncharacteristic grin. His days of play-acting as the second-in-command of the Dark Unit were nally coming to a conclusion. Finally, he would be able to act on the rage he had been internalizing all these years of taking orders from The Duke! And Kevin, theres one other thing... First tell me, are you on a secure line? Afrmative. Go ahead.

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Judson Halworth is a man from a family that is very important to us. So no run-of-themill assassination will do. Youll need to do him in such a way that it wont raise any suspicion. The family understands how we operate, if you know what I mean. I could care less how you do it, but there needs to be enough collateral damage that it wont jeopardize our relationship with the family. I conrm that. The Duke will be terminated tomorrow. After that, it should take only a couple of days to wrap up the loose ends here in Washington. This Halworth fellow is going to end up taking some time. Is that going to be okay with you? asked the agent. Take your time, and do it right, encouraged William. It will need to be perfect. And perfect it was. Six months later, a plane outbound from Monaco crashed into the Atlantic Ocean, killing two hundred and seventy-three people, including Judson Halworth. Horried by the tragedy, the Agency volunteered its manpower and expertise in the criminal investigation of the accident, concluding that there had been no foul play. A faulty wiring harness was the real culprit. A video animation created and distributed by the Agency more than adequately demonstrated this fact, as it played over-and-over again for the duration of a week on the cable news networks. A limousine departed the Long Island compound and sped along the road returning to the City. There had been an emergency they had told the driver which required them to return to NYC as soon as possible. Escaping the room where the ritual homosexual acts were being performed before watchful eyes of the Wellington Brothers and the invisible presence of Light Bearer and the Goddess Lilith had not been easy. The Duke convincingly dominated Halworth, slamming his body into his, while pulling the hair of the smaller man. Eventually they reached the doorway to the change room, where they donned their clothes, and made an inconspicuous exit. With the privacy glass in the limousine raised up between the passengers and the driver, The Duke spoke freely. What the hell was that? Are you telling me that the worlds most powerful men are all homosexual deviants? Bisexual, actually. You didnt see any of them backing down during the Feast of Virgins did you? True, but what we just left behind was more of a crazy scene. With the girls, it seemed as though everyone was just going through the motions. When the boys came in, they just lost their minds, the agent observed. Halworth poured himself a glass from the mini bar. Thats because theres nothing to take from the virgins. Theres no pleasure when theres nothing to take. Think of it this way:

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When youre one of the elite of the world, you can have anything you want, any time you want it. Because of this, life gets boring pretty fast. It would be like a golfer who sinks a hole-in-one with every golf shot he makes. At the beginning it would be kind of neat, but eventually, you wouldnt want to play golf anymore. I personally have eight homes, two yachts, a plane and two helicopters. Ive slept with one girl at a time, twenty girls together, men, boys, and all combinations in between. I can do anything, any time I want. So when dad suggested that I join the Illumined Brothers, I jumped at the chance to do something different. At rst, I loved the studying; the challenge of memorizing the ceremonies and rituals. I was thrilled at the prospect that I could connect with the spiritual world, making angels do what I commanded them to do. But eventually everything turned on me. The dark angels are thirsty bastards and require continual feeding. They demanded that I constantly be taking from others; constantly raping and stealing, so that my angels could brag about being top dog. The trouble is, there are stronger entities out there, who also have their minds set on being at the top of the heap. Essentially, I got tired of taking it up the proverbial ass. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I studied, no matter how much I raped; in the end, I always ended up being screwed. I once had everything, and was bored beyond belief. Now, everything that I have is constantly being taken from me. It is the nature of the beast they serve. So why dont you drop out? wondered the Duke, drinking straight from a bottle. Weve been through this once before. Im not yet ready to die, Halworth said somberly, staring into the black night. And youre certain that they would kill you? the agent asked, lighting a European cigarette. You just took the oath tonight, you idiot. Did you not pay any attention to the words you were speaking? Once you join the Brotherhood, there is no leaving. You must never forget that George Talbott learned this lesson the hard way; by your hands, no less. Youre telling me were going to have to take it up the ass the rest our lives? Thats ridiculous! he inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke through his nostrils. Friend, Halworth said, receiving the lit cigarette offered to him. America and the rest of the world are already being robbed in this precise manner. We are raping them of their wealth, and their sons and daughters. We are destroying all that is good and pure. We are taking everything that has value, and making it all our own.

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And why is that? Because we can... and the damned demons are always thirsty for more. ***** The wedding ceremony concluded with a feast of roasted meats, vegetables, and home-baked bread prepared by Chef and the other monks. With wine freely owing, everyone present was captivated by the atmosphere of celebration. It was the most Alexander had ever heard the ordinarily silent monks speak. From the head of the large table, he took-in the jovial interchange between the men. It was strange, he thought, how much the men-in-brown resembled a family. Where had Monk found all of these characters? What motivated them to stay together? Would this be what it would be like around his supper table in a few years as children were born? Would he ever grow tired of spending such time with Meghan and their kids? Would he simply end up spending late hours at the ofce eating Chinese take-out, using the occasion to bang his secretary? Monk interrupted his thoughts by standing, in order to get the noisy groups attention. Today, is a day of mixed feelings, as we celebrate the new life created as Alexander and Meghan are joined together, while acknowledging the noticeable absence of our dear friend Nicodemus. Nicodemus had intended on presenting this message and gift to the happy couple in person, but fearing he may not return from New York City, he gave it to me, said the cleric, removing a small manilla envelope from his cloak. Alexanders heart skipped a beat. Was the old man going to leave part of his fortune to him? Would there nally be a payday for all of the inconveniences he had endured since his rst meeting with George Talbott? Maybe he would end up being richer than Putnam II. Wouldnt that be something! Sliding the contents of the envelope into his hand, Monk unfolded a sheet of paper, while stating: This is an addendum to Nicodemus nal will and testament. He wrote this in the early morning hours before departing for the City.
To Alexander and Meghan Putnam: You are now married! What a day, and what an accomplishment! What a life you will share together! I have such high hopes for the two of you. I want to bless each of you with words of life and with a nancial start.

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Meghan, you are a lady most deserving of a man of courage and honor. A regal feeling emanates from you, replete with the Great Ones authority, power, and grace. You have true beauty, and I partook of your genuine kindness during the brief time you spent with me. I am blessed that the Great One found a way to bring you into our family. Alexander, you have always been a puzzle to me, until suddenly I realized that the reason you cause me such aggravation is because you remind me of myself. You are strong-willed, impulsive, and highly intelligent; all qualities that will serve you well, once brought under submission to the Great One. Please take the advise I am about to give you, as a son, who is willing to listen to a father who loves his child unconditionally. You will never be perfect. Stop trying so hard to convince people that you are. When you do this, you will loosen up to enjoy the many blessings around you. You no longer need to be bound by your idea of how people perceive you. All that matters is the Great Ones opinion. You are, after all, the man of courage and honor that Meghan so richly deserves. When you write your book, use the pen name Percival Marshall. Monk has used my connections to acquire expedited passports for you. I have also given you $10,000.00 in travel expenses to get you to the monastery in Central America should you choose to go. I highly advise it. I am proud of you both. -Nicodemus

Though Alex recognized the kindhearted sentiment of the letter, he felt let down. The billionaire had promised them a nancial start, and then enclosed a lousy ten grand? What was this? Some kind of cruel joke? He hesitantly received the envelope handed to him by Monk, and hastily thrust it into his jeans pocket. Passports and ten-grand! Wow! Sensing his dissatisfaction, the cleric commented: When Nicodemus told me what he was doing, I too wondered at the amount. He told me then, that the greatest gift he could provide, was to allow you to begin your relationship with modest nancial means. And I agree with him, he continued. With a couple of million in a bank account, you and Meghan would be setting up house in a nice part of the country, surrounding yourself with comforts and luxuries. With ten grand in your pocket, youll have more than enough to spend six months on the mainland of Belize at our monastery. Isnt it amazing how money can change ones outlook. Alex shrugged his shoulders, and ate a piece of wedding cake. Monk had been right about one thing. If Nicodemus had left him a couple mil, he probably wouldnt be sweating away six months of his life, way down in Central America.

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As the evening drew to an end, Alex and Meghan went around the room thanking each of the monks for their efforts to make the day special for them. When they nally approached Monk, Meghan hugged him emotionally. Thank you so much! she said in gratitude. I am a new person. I can feel the difference. You have become rebirthed into the Ancient Ways, and have made a life-long commitment to your new husband. It has been a busy night for you! observed Monk warmly. But do not become overly attached to the euphoric feelings of this night, for they will fade over time and will not sustain you. You must always remember that feelings are unreliable. Instead, have condence that the Great One will grant you just enough strength for each passing day: providing the fortitude to be a knight in the Almightys army; along with the courage to humbly assist your husband in accomplishing his lifes mission. I knew from the moment I met you, that you were to be Alexanders partner in life. Hes one lucky man! Monk grinned. Now, my new sister in the faith, I must talk briey with your husband, before we send the two of you up to the special room thats been prepared for you. Okay, Meghan beamed, leaning in to kiss Alex on the lips. While you two talk, Ill be over there helping the brothers clean up this mess. The wedding night isnt over yet, mister, she kissed him again; this time deeply. Whether it was the wine or the heat of the moment, the former pastor did not know or care. He had only one thing on his mind. Here is your marriage certicate, Monk handed Alexander a document with a raised stamp, it is signed by a Justice of the Peace here in town. Therefore, according to the Great One, and the laws of this land, you are ofcially married, Alexander. Do not be mistaken: your life has not become easier. On the contrary, it has just become more complicated, for you are now responsible over two people. You must guard your wifes life as though it were your own, he instructed sternly. Just as she exists to help you achieve the mission that has been set before you, you exist to protect and provide for her. But in order for you to be successful, you must die to your own self-interests, whether they be church-work or pornography. What exactly are you eluding to? Alex asked defensively. I always intend to treat Meghan honorably. Im happy that you have good intentions, replied Monk with a look of intense concern ashing across his face. We both know that the road to hell is paved with them. Dont make promises regarding your new bride that you cannot keep. Instead, continue to be honorable to the Great One. If you remain obedient to his wishes, we can be assured that Meghan will always remain safe.

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But of course, Putnam III replied, making no effort to conceal his annoyance, Im not an idiot! Where exactly, are you going with this? The brown-robed cleric put his arm around the younger man, walking him to a quiet corner of the room. Your psyche has been programed by illumination, and though there have been adequate opportunities to step away from such brainwashing, you seem to be content with the way things are. Youre starting to sound like Nicodemus, Alex grumbled. I dont think that now is the appropriate time for being so judgmental. But it is the appropriate time! the intensity had not left Monks face. You dont understand. As the Great Ones representative, I had a roll to play in bringing together this union. Because of this, I must press you to be completely transparent before me. I care for you and Meghan too much to have your blood on my hands. Whats that supposed to mean?! Alex was starting to become visibly agitated. Do you think I am hiding something? Weve been through everything, Monk. Theres nothing more to discuss! Compulsive behaviors choose people who are unwilling to humble themselves. Pride is nothing more than a prison with an open door. Those who have been brainwashed by illumination care more about what other people think, than what the Great One already knows. You must come clean with Meghan. You must allow her to know your weaknesses, so that she can help keep you out of such a prison. My fascination with porn is now in the past, Alex explained with patient steadiness. I now have a beautiful woman to be fascinated with. End of discussion, he said, turning away to rejoin the others. Alexander! the clerics voice rang out. As the former pastor turned to face him, the man-in-brown mercifully lowered his voice. The problem is not with your interest in pornography. That is merely a symptom of your pride. The same goes for your desire to be identied as a man of God inside of organized religion. Meghan has now become your partner in life. The Great One has designed marriage to ourish only when both parties are willing to become givers. Giving is the only way that you can submit to each other. Let me share a moment of frankness with you. When you consummate your marriage tonight, it will be very important that you approach it from an attitude of giving. Otherwise youll simply be tearing off the scab covering the wound that was inicted when Meghan was raped. Through an attitude of humble giving, you will create life in her that did not exist before. Enough riddles, Monk! Alex said with exasperation. I think Ive heard enough. Look! Im grateful for all youve done for us, and were even going to spend several months with you down at your monastery in Central America. But shouldnt we draw the line

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when it comes to bedroom advice? I think thats crossing the line! He had to shut down this conversation once and for all. Did the man-in-brown have some sort of infatuation with his new wife that made him act in such a bizarre fashion? I simply care about you, son. Im not your son, Alex stated atly, turning away. It was a cold response that was meant to sting; something he would come to regret in the coming days. Later that night, after a soak in their en-suite bathroom hot-tub, the newly married couples lovemaking was passionate and tender. With curious excitement, they discovered one another, eagerly embarking on a journey that created mutual pleasure... and new life. ***** The long darkness of night was almost coming to an end, and Maxwell was speeding along the freeway, trying to dispose of the last girls body before the arrival of daylight. Why the damned brothers insisted on dumping them in ve different cities, he did not fully understand. On his second such trip now several years ago he had inquired as to the reason behind the time-consuming practice. Philip Wellington had given him a cryptic response, saying: Ley-lines are straight and true. When you connect the dots, it all makes perfect sense. Theres a wonderful magic that comes through Teohitican and Stonehenge. We honor such magic with our deposit of blood... Whatever that meant. Boston, New York City, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and now Washington. As usual, he had saved his favorite girl for the very last, strapping her into the front seat beside him after he had tossed the the smallest of the girls into a fast-food dumpster in Baltimore. He studied the stiff, pale face, visible under cascading curly hair in the greying light of early dawn. Even in death she remained beautiful and pure. It was a damned shame she and her little friend had taken ill before the big night. Had she been healthy, he probably would have kept her alive for a awhile longer. There was so much innate goodness in this one, he would have gladly taken whatever was left after the brothers had nished with her. She was that good. *****

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Madame Chantalle awoke from a restless sleep, dreading the thought of spending another day bending-over-backwards in a vain attempt to please her parents. After discovering that the girls at the residential detention center were now missing, her heart was no longer in it. It had been sheer foolishness to think that her mother and father could be made satised by her efforts. She was puzzled and disturbed that the State had no record of the detention center on 52nd Street. Was the government now contracting out the incarceration of its citizens to private rms? What type of corporation would lock up a houseful of girls, only to have them disappear? What kind of accountability was there in that? Who was signing her weekly paychecks? Had she become a party to the misdeeds of a rogue corporation? Her mind swirled with questions she would never get answered. Doubt and anxiety now swirled around her like two ies ghting over fresh manure. Could it be that rescuing the ve girls had been her assignment from the Great One? Could it be that in all of these months of uncertainty wondering if she was actually achieving anything for the Messiahs cause that her assignment had been right in front of her nose? And now, had she failed her mission? Were her girls gone forever? Gloomily, she gave thought to her relationship with Felicity. The responsible girl who always had a kind word and a ready smile had become like a daughter to her. Would she ever see her again? The mounting heartache was becoming too great... ...Perhaps they had simply gone on another day trip to the country. That had happened once before, and she had been forced to reschedule the tutoring session to later in the evening. Was she simply worrying about nothing? After she dropped her parents off at the airport on Sunday, would she then be able to witness her students graduation from their months of internment, and be able to tell their parents how proud of them she was? It would, at the very least, be an opportunity to share her feelings of admiration with Felicitys parents. Suddenly convinced that she had been making much ado about nothing, Madame Chantalle rolled back over in her bed. Her parents could fend for themselves when it came to breakfast. She was going to sleep in.

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Chapter 54 A
lexander and Meghan awoke to the bright light of mid-morning and shared a light breakfast in bed. The monks continued to spoil the newlyweds, doting on their every request. After spending an hour in the shower reminding each other of their affections, they struck out on a trail heading from the back of the house into the hills. The clear autumn day was fresh, lled with brilliant colors and the sweet smell of fallen leaves. From the path winding along the ridge of the mountain, they took-in the views below of farmers elds and small towns that were playing hide-and-seek among the clouds of mist that had yet to burn off. Once they had hiked for a little more than half-an-hour, Meghan tugged Alex off the main trail toward a place she had located the day before. I described this place to Monk and he says that the locals had named it the Park-n-Fly Lookout, she grinned mischievously while hoisting herself up onto a large rock. Thats an odd name. It seems that certain folks have left their cars parked along the road up ahead, in order to use to this location as the staging ground to nd a quick way off the mountain and out of life, she explained. Cautiously, they eased down to the edge of a precipitous drop-off, overlooking the at valley below. Sitting on the edge of the cliff smoothed by erce storms that often battered the wild crags they dangled their feet in the air, reveling in the majesty of the colorful world hundreds of feet below. For ten minutes they said nothing, trying to soak in as much of the magical moment as possible, knowing it would eventually have to come to an end. Finally, Meghan broke the silence: Its amazing how quickly life can change when you can nd the right stream to dive into. Alex pondered the words while securing his ngers around a tree root in response to the dull ache in his knuckles. The extreme height was beginning to impact him physically. What do you mean? he inquired. Look at that winding river down there, she fearlessly pointed over the edge. That water will eventually reach the ocean. If my destiny was the sea, all I would need to do is oat in that water. It would be effortless! So?

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So about a month ago, I was busily working my life away, trying to save enough money to return to college so that I could make something of my life. Every day was a struggle; a ght to remain focused in order to achieve my goal. In many ways, it seemed like I was swimming against the current. It was a tedious and lonely existence. Theres nothing wrong with setting goals, and working hard to fulll them, Alex commented. I invested six years of my life and over one hundred thousands dollars in order to become a pastor. I cant tell you the sense of accomplishment I felt when I nally mounted that degree onto the wall of the church ofce. Dont get me wrong, Meghan claried, because Im not trying to diminish what you have accomplished. What I am trying to say is this: Sometimes I think we push too hard to accomplish the things we think we should do; and by forcing our way through life, we stop truly living it. Our lives end up being an exercise in lonely drudgery, rather than being an exciting adventure, lled with the unpredictable twists and turns that come from living for the Great One and his cause. Maybe some people dont like unpredictable twists and turns, Alex remarked smugly. Meghan glossed over the comment. Think of it from my perspective for a second. Life was always easy for me. Our family always had money to spare, I was popular in school, and was smart enough to get fairly decent grades with a minimal effort. And yet in college, I was bored. I was so bored, Alex, that all I ended up looking forward to was partying. Thats because you didnt set any goals for your life. No, its because I didnt realize my life had a greater purpose. For years I went to your church and all it taught me was that I was a passive spectator in the Great Ones world. It sent the message that people like you, Pastor Randall, or Pastor Patricia had the inside track with the Great One, and that I had better keep going to church every Sunday to sit at your feet to glean from your great knowledge. No offense, but that was boring! Alex smiled to himself. Meghan had re and passion, he would give her that. But she was so naive when it came to the ways of the world. Perhaps after spending more time with him, she would obtain a better grasp on the nuances of religion and wisdom. Then I met Sylvia, and it rocked my world... Sylvia again, dammit! Alex groaned. What did she see in that harlot? Sylvia didnt seem to ght against the ow of the river in order to prove anything to anyone. She was along for the ride, and she knew where she was going. She knew

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her purpose in life, and she wasnt about to allow the events of her past to discourage her from fullling it. And you think I have something to prove? An all-too-familiar agitation began to drape itself over Alexander like a wet blanket. Thats not where I was initially going with this, but now that youve brought yourself into it... yes, I think you sometimes act as though you have something to prove. And what do you think Im trying to prove? She did not respond immediately, wanting to be sure her words would not be misunderstood. Perhaps you are trying to prove that youre somehow worthy... worthy of peoples approval and respect. Alexanders facial expressions hardened, and Meghan tried her best to soften the blow: I dont understand why you feel the need to prove yourself, because youre a terric guy, and I consider myself so blessed to be your wife. You have to understand. I love you, and I believe that deep in your heart, you always want to do the right thing. Youre a courageous knight, as Monk would say. The day you pushed me out of harms way from that speeding truck in the mall parking lot and led them away from me, I knew you were a man I could spend my whole life with. I believe theres nothing left for you to prove. Youre a man of honor. And doesnt that say everything that needs to be said about you? I want to encourage you to stop the ghting; trying to push yourself against the current to get upstream. Theres nothing there for you. Our destiny together lies downstream. Alex sulked as he considered her words. What had he done? Just married Sylvia? Here was his beautiful wife who should be looking up to him, and yet she was now advising him on the ways of life and spirituality. Yet, she had never completed her postsecondary education, let alone acquiring any graduate degrees. But somehow she felt qualied to speak into his life! The damned feminists! Meghan let him brood, and slipped her arm into his. Eventually the conversation would warm again, and they would discuss what the future might hold. How long would they remain in Central America? How would their perspective of life change through the experience? Where would they live after returning to the States? When would they tell their parents that they had gotten married? On the way back to the safe-house, Alex, who was preoccupied by his own thoughts, subconsciously walked several paces ahead of Meghan. When at last he became aware that his wife was falling behind, he turned in his tracks, waiting for her to catch up. As she approached, he eyed her curiously. What was different? There was a peaceful radiance surrounding her; an aura of calm condence.

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There was no way he could have known that at that moment, his bride was glowing with new life. A tiny miracle had begun to form on the inside of her womb. ***** There would be no caviar or champagne for breakfast today. The Duke was severely hung-over, and through the throbbing of his emerging sobriety, he was questioning whether or not he wanted to go on living. Brief ashes of memory from the night before competed with nauseous impulses for the attention of his aching brain, and what he was remembering only added to his sickness. Had he raped the lifeless body of a helpless young girl? Did he have close physical contact with the short, stubble-faced man, even kissing him at one point? He wanted pills. Lots of them. While clinging to the side of the toilet as another wave of dry-heaves passed, he heard the sound of knocking at his hotel room door. Who is it? he called out weakly. Its me, Militello. There have been some interesting developments I need to discuss with you. Open up! The Duke tied the hotel bathrobe around himself loosely, taking a weaving course to the entranceway. Im not feeling well today, Kev, he said pulling to door open. Theres been a u going around. You should have stayed in Washington. Militello feigned taking a step back, holding a handkerchief to his mouth. I cant afford to catch a virus now. There are too many important leads that need following up. Lets talk on the balcony, shall we. By the looks of things a little fresh air would likely do you some good. The Duke nodded in agreement. After doubling over for a moment, he followed Militello through the sliding door into the brisk midmorning. He sat down on a patio chair that was white with dust, and held his head in his hands, inhaling the fresh autumn air. It failed to cure his queasiness. Things in D.C. are shaping up nicely, Militello spoke casually. While youve been hobnobbing with the bigwigs in New York, all the loose ends of the Talbott case are getting tied up. The girl and AP3 will be ours within days and were zeroing-in on this Monk character. Jack Grimsbys death was a real shame though. Unlike you, he was a hell of an agent. Unlike me? The Duke looked confused.

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Yeah, unlike you, Militello ducked his head lower so that he could look into the face of the hunched over agent. Grimsby actually asked me to call him Jack, if you could imagine. Unlike you, you pompous asshole, who insists that everyone use your last name as some kind of title. Jack died like a man too, right down to the last minute. Before the bullet went through his brain, he was thinking about his wife and kids. What are you thinking about right now? I think Im going to wretch, the agent doubled over once again. You mean, you arent afraid of dying... Chester Duke? Alright, alright. Enough with the insults Kevin. Ive told you several times now, you will call me The Duke. Go to hell Chester. That is your rst name isnt it? Militello baited. You see, Chester, we have each had our missions in life. For the past few years, you as the leader of the Dark Team managed to close more than a few cases using every unlawful method known to the American legal system and sheer stupid luck. You can imagine how infuriating it was to watch you rise to prominence, knowing you were nothing more than a mob thug with bad manners; especially considering that I was your superior. At that nal comment, The Dukes eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed as he began to consider his options. If Militello was telling the truth, there could only be one reason he was here. Did it have anything to do with his performance last night? My superior? he scoffed. Tell me who you report to? Last I knew it was me. Last you knew... I have always reported directly to William and Philip Wellington you lowlife scum. Its been my misfortune to have been your babysitter the past few years. But all of that is now coming to an end. The Duke rose to his feet trying to act unsurprised. He was beginning to see the writing on the wall. Whatever you say Kevin. But youll have to tell me more about this wild fantasy of yours after Im through vomiting. With unexpected speed and agility, Chester Duke slid through the open glass patio door and ran to the bathroom. After fumbling with the lock, he scrambled for the leather shoulder holster that was hanging from a hook near the sink. With satisfaction, he gripped the sidearm and turned, becoming startled by his own reection in the mirror as he pointed the gun toward the door. Heart pounding, he forced himself to take a deep breath. It was then that he realized that something didnt seem quite right. The weapon in his hands was too light. Even the wicked hangover could not keep him from concluding that

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the magazine to the gun had been removed. He slumped to the toilet, the gun sliding from his ngers, rattling on the tile bathroom oor. His time had come. Kevin Militello gently pulled the hotel room door closed with a gloved hand and strode down the hallway toward the elevators, his cell phone to his ear. Yeah, Chad. Tell the troops that this is go-time. Weve got three days to wrap up the Talbott case... ...naw, I dont care if theyve disappeared off the face of the earth, they must be neutralized. Im facing all kinds of pressure from the top people here, so Im giving you the green light to increase manpower. Set up surveillance teams at all usual spots... ***** It had been a bad year for experienced agents working for the Bureau. Interviewed later that evening on the nightly national news, the outgoing Director explained that the Agency was setting up a task-force to study the recent rash of suicides, and would offer counseling to those who remained. It had been a shock that one of their most competent team leaders had drank himself into a depressed stupor, before plunging to his death from the balcony of his 26th oor hotel room. In the meantime, the spy-organization would begin reevaluating its psychological screenings for new hires. Yes, the Agency was still hiring. Only those who had been conditioned to respond to the swift commands of the Illumined Ones need apply. With the constant threat of terrorism and the economy in full meltdown, there was no longer any time to do things by the book. ***** Alex spent the afternoon reviewing his notes, in order to create an outline for the book he was supposed to write, documenting the activities of the Illuminati. Using earbuds, he listened in privacy to the secret recording he had made when Nicodemus had visited him, weeks ago, at the church. The more he listened the old mans deep, Britishaccented voice, the more depressed he became. Nicodemus was dead because of him. Though he didnt have a hand in the industrialists actual killing, he could have prevented it. Why had he remained silent? Was it to avoid further scolding and public humiliation? Was it because he didnt want to be belittled in front of Meghan? Was it all because of his foolish pride? Hindsight would always be 20/20 he told himself, in a futile attempt to ease his conscience.

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As Alex speculated on how different things would have been different if the old man were still alive, he became less and less interested in writing the book. With a disconcerted sigh, he shufed the yellow pages containing his scrawled notes into a pile, and was about to le them into the pocket of his laptop computer case, when the edge of a white sheet paper caught his eye. He shed it out to perused it. The document was his marriage certicate. How about that! He was now ofcially a married man. Everything had happened so quickly it was still hard to believe. What would their parents think when they found out? He smiled when he thought of Meghans father, Saul Kiplinger, reporting the news to Randall and Patricia. He would just love to see their faces when they found out! The two pastors had conspired to release him from his duties at the church for reconnecting with Meghan. But now they had no basis for ring him! He had done the honorable thing. He had married the girl! Alex began to fantasize about what it would be like to reveal the news of his marriage to the leaders of Camden Heights First United Congregational Church in person. And as the wickedly entertaining scenario began to develop in his mind, the Light Bearer began to smile in a nearby invisible realm. He wouldnt even have to bait a hook for this stupid, young pastor. It would be like shooting sh in a barrel.

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Chapter 55 M
onk had given him a set of car keys and directions to town the night before, on the condition that the couple would spend no more than a couple of hours of Sunday morning enjoying a cup of coffee together at a local caf. The cleric was sympathetic with Alexanders plight that they had been cooped up for too long and needed a change of scenery. Day had just broken when the car slowly wound its way down the side of the mountain, offering its occupants breathtaking views of the valley below. The moment of truth came when Alex approached the entrance to the highway running east. Should he continue on into town, just like hed promised Monk? Or should he hop on the freeway and make a quick run for Camden Heights? Hey! Where are we going? Meghan asked, as the car raced down the entrance ramp. I thought we might take a little detour. We left a little earlier than expected, and I thought it might be fun to surprise your parents with the news that we got married, Alex lied. Truth be told, he could have cared less about Saul and Mary Kiplinger. It was the look on Randalls face, that was fueling this impromptu trip. This is not a good idea, Alex. Youll be taking us right back into danger. Dont forget, were it not for Monks men showing up when they did, I could have been abducted. Besides well never make it back to the safe-house on time. Monk will understand if were a couple of hours late. Were just going to poke our heads in at the church and turn around and come home, he said, bringing the car up to speed while making the calculations in his mind. If they hurried, they would get there before the rst service even began. I dont want to see my parents, Alex. Theres nothing more for me back in Camden Heights. The monks will be putting all of our belongings into storage and paying off our rent. Our cars are going to be sold. Monk told us all about this. We need to walk away from our past. Overtaking some slower moving vehicles traveling in the right lane, Alex considered his wifes plight. Sure, there was a small chance that the trip could be dangerous, and no doubt Monk would be pissed at being deceived. But it would all be worth it when he confronted Randall and Patricia; the proud, hypocritical adulterers. Turn around or let me out of the car, Alex, Meghan said with an intense look in her green eyes. I dont want to go back to Camden Heights.

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Aw, well just be there a few minutes. As your new husband, I insist that you join me, he laughed, patting her on the knee. What youre doing is wrong. Its taking unnecessary chances. As my husband, please put my safety above whatever other reasons you may have to revisit your old life. We must leave our old life in the past, and embrace our new life together. I promise, I wont be but a minute, Alex insisted. If you dont want to see your parents, thats ne with me. You can stay in the car and lock the doors if you want. There are just a couple of things I need to retrieve from the ofce, and then well leave. Ill be in an out! The car rolled into the church parking lot fteen minutes before the rst service was to begin. Meghan decided to accompany Alex to the lobby where they parted ways: she to the restroom, and he down the hallway containing the church ofces. The setup could not have been any better. As he burst into the senior pastors ofce to confront Randall, he also faced Patricia who was doing some last minute consulting about this Sundays church announcements. You! Patricia hissed. I thought you were told to stay away! Randall went a shade beyond his usual sickly, pale complexion; complete taken by surprise. Really, Alex. I thought we had an understanding. Youre no longer welcome here, his voice trembled. I just came to pick up some stuff from my ofce, and to show you this! he stated deantly, holding up the marriage certicate for them both to see. The senior pastor took the document and held it in his quivering hands, trying to desperately to process its relevance. Were married now, which means that you have no grounds for ring me! Patricia wagged her head from side-to-side dramatically. Not so, Alex. You were let go because you violated your agreement with the Board never to have contact with Meghan again. Nobody cares that you married the girl. This is all just a sham anyways! Its nothing more than a ruse to try to get your job back. I didnt know you were capable of stooping so low. Do Saul and Mary know about this marriage? Randall asked, recovering somewhat, as he handed back the marriage certicate. No, they dont have a clue. It was a private ceremony.

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Figures, commented Patricia, raising her nose in the air. Did you marry her because you got her pregnant? Thatd be my guess. Enough! Randall bellowed with such force that both Alex and Patricia were shocked into silence. You have married Meghan, and we wish you the very best. But now you need to leave, Alexander. Your working relationship with us has been terminated. Please do not plan on receiving any severance from the church. That Saul and Mary dont know about the marriage is one thing, but we must also consider the welfare of the entire congregation. How would they perceive one of their own pastors getting married to the daughter of prominent members of our church, while not being informed or invited. This whole thing stinks. We will not hesitate to pursue legal action if you in anyway malign the church or its staff, Alex. You are to gather what you want from your ofce, and you will never set foot on this property again. If you do, I will have you arrested. Do you understand. Alex hung his head, subconsciously folding the certicate in quarters, jamming it into his back pocket. It had not gone the way he had planned. Meanwhile, Meghan waited in an inconspicuous corner of the lobby; a bundle of nerves. Her parents usually went to the second service, so there was only a slim-chance they would be in attendance at this early hour. But there remained a remote chance. What would she tell them? Already she had recognized some familiar faces, who politely smiled at her as they entered the church. Suddenly, a ustered-looking, middle-aged gentleman with greying hair and a blue trench coat ung open the doors, looking frantically about. Help! he called out in a quieter voice than might be expected. Then, like a guided missile, he fastened his eyes on Meghan. My mother needs to get in here before the morning service begins, but shes too frail to rise from her seat in the car. My lower back is too bad to help her out. Would you give us some assistance young lady? he begged. Meghan did not hesitate, she followed the man out to the car parked on the ramp at the front of the church. Peering in the open back door of the sedan, her momentum was augmented by a rm push on the back, and she tumbled into the empty backseat. Before she could utter a scream, the door was slammed shut, and the car tore out of the parking lot. The man with the grey hair roughly pulled a fabric bag over her head, and neutralized her panicked struggle to escape by tightening zip-ties around her wrists and ankles. The driver was on his cell phone now, speaking loudly over the mechanical growl of the racing engine. Yeah boss? Weve got the girl. Another team is in place to follow AP3. With his little girlfriend gone, were pretty sure hell make a beeline for that Monk fellow.

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When he does, well apprehend them both. Do you want us to take the girl back to headquarters for questioning? ...New York City? Thats a hell of a trip. Okay, just give me the address, and well drop her at the detention center. Alexander Putnam III carried his box of trinkets into the lobby ready to leave. Where was Meghan? Probably out in the car to avoid an uncomfortable run-in with her parents. He trundled out to the parking lot, greeting people as he went. If they had known that he had just been red, they wouldnt still be treating him as if he were some kind of celebrity. Likely, he would be worthy of little more than their scorn and disapproval. To hell with them, he thought. They didnt know any better, so he would just play along. Finding the car empty brought a mild wave of panic over the former pastor. His mind raced through the logical possibilities of where his wife would be located. Walking back into the church, he proceeded to the womens bathroom where he called quietly: Meghan? Im ready to go. Lets get out of here. There was no response. Consciously, he steadied his breathing, attempting to regulate his growing angst, and stepped into the womens room. Pastor! You shouldnt be in here, an older woman scolded, along with three other accusing faces. Im sorry! he exclaimed. I must nd Meghan! With his composure shattered, he tore through the church, like mother bear in search of a lost cub. Meghan! he hollered, again and again. She was nowhere to be found. Wild-eyed, he sprinted down the center of the sanctuary, calling out her name again, drawing the attention of shocked congregants. Pastor, is everything alright? inquired Mrs. Evelyn Pierce. You seem distressed, dear. Hes acting like a crazy man, muttered Rose Parsons, staring at the gure running up and down the aisle. I always knew there was something wrong with that boy. Alex ran into the pastors at the back of the sanctuary, just as they were beginning their processional down the aisle to the stage. Have you seen Meghan?! he said with alarm. Meghan is missing! Get ahold of yourself! Randall roughly grabbed the younger man by the shoulder. Stop making a scene and get out now! he shouted, physically pushing him out of the sanctuary doors. And dont come back! He motioned to one of the ushers, Glenn, escort Mr. Putnam from the premises, and call the police. Do it discretely, and I will ll you in later.

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Two ushers grabbed the young pastors arms and walked him to his car. It was a scene that the members of Camden Heights First United Church would feed off of for months and years. In an attempt to quell the wild gossip, Pastor Randall would eventually tell the congregation that the two men had a difference in ministry philosophy and had to part company, much like Paul and Barnabas did in the Bible. Nobody believed the explanation. The rumor that Alex had slept with Randalls wife was a far more delicious tale. ***** A violent rage consumed Alex when he looked into his rearview mirror. There was the same grey SUV, copying all of his erratic moves as he sped back to the mountain safehouse. He had rst caught sight of the tail when stopping at Meghans apartment, wondering if she had somehow caught a ride there. At the time, he was so overwhelmed, that he hadnt given the vehicle any further thought. But the long trip on the freeway had permitted perspective to return, and he was fairly certain the bastards that were following him had kidnapped his bride. What to do? Run them off the road? It was an action that might jeopardize Meghans safety. He slowed his pace, and exited off the freeway, pulling into an expansive gas station with several pumping islands. The grey truck pulled into the station at an island some distance from his. Fumbling with the gas cap, he pretended to fuel the car, He then ducked behind the pump, and stealthily making his way to the side of the SUV. Overtaken by an adrenaline rush created by his feelings of helpless loss, he sprang to a rear door of the truck, opening it wide. Wheres Meghan?! he roared, yanking an occupant in the back seat from the vehicle to the concrete curb. He peered in and around the interior looking for his wife, while the three other occupants reached out in an attempting to grab him. Meghan wasnt there. Kicking at the hand grasping at his ankle, he slammed the door and sprang for his own vehicle, his tires screeching all the way back onto the interstate. Damn it all to hell! Where was Meghan? Why hadnt he just listened to her? Right now they would have been sipping coffee in a small town pondering their future. Instead, she was gone; maybe lost forever, all because of him. What had he done? Why had he been such an ignorant ass? What did he expect was going to transpire when he showed up at the church with his marriage certicate? That they would hire him back? Where was she, dammit! He was such a stupid ass. Stupid ass!!! Light highway trafc provided only an occasional obstacle to his speeding vehicle. The highway patrol was the least of Alexanders worries, as the grey SUV became larger in his rearview mirror, and began smashing into his back bumper. With each impact, the vehicle became more difcult to steer, so Alex mashed the gas peddle to the oor. The

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heavy sedan was not built for speed, and began oating dangerously all over the road. On several occasions, he came close to tagging several slower cars in the right lane, but he was putting some distance between him and his pursuers. Braking heavily, the car shuddered violently, and he veered down the exit leading to the road into the mountains. With white knuckles, he made the turn and accelerated up the windy two-lane road, knowing that any error on this road would mean certain death. It was a thought he welcomed. Whether these were rogue agents, or members of the nefarious crowd from Nicodemus past he did not know. Alex knew that if they were following him, they likely already had Meghan. He knew that if they had kidnapped his wife, that he would never see her again. Nicodemus horrifying death was still fresh in his mind. If they did the same thing to Meghan, he did not want to continue living. He was a killer. A killer! First the old man, and now his wife. And for what? Because some hypocrites at the church treated him unfairly? Self-condemnation combined with rage to transform the speeding car into a dangerous projectile, sliding and squealing into corners, kicking up dust and gravel. The vehicles path was an outward symbol of the internal condition of its driver: on the edge of self-destruction. Gaining speed on a rare straight section in the road, the SUV plowed into the back of his car one last time. The taller vehicles bumper became lodged on the top of the sedans forming a runaway train that was incapable of negotiating the next sharp curve in the road. Alex sawed at the wheel, trying in vain to force his vehicle to turn. Black smoke lled the air as he jammed on the brakes. But the momentum was too great. With the railing quickly approaching, Alex opened the door of his car and bailed, tucking his body into a ball before it smacked hard on the shoulder of the road, violently bouncing him into a muddy ditch, saturated by the cold autumn rains. A split second later, he heard the initial impact of metal on metal, followed by the sound of two distant explosions. Then everything went black. He awoke to the sound of familiar voices speaking in concerned tones. They were speculating on what had occurred. Both are dead, he heard one report, theres no way anyone survived the impact or the explosion. Lets get back and report to Monk. How on earth did this mission get cursed? Weve always been so successful in the past. On this one, everyone is dying. Theres something wrong.

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Hey! Alex called out, wincing from the pain he felt in his left shoulder. Hey! Im over here. Help me! He heard the scramble of feet before he saw the men-in-brown begin to descend the steep ditch. They lifted him from the mud and he cried out in pain. Doc... you better get over here. I think the kid broke his arm, one man said. The medically-trained monk skidded down the declivity, his sandals making suction noises in the mud as he approached. Hes dislocated his shoulder. Restrain his arms for a moment and steady his body. In one swift move, there was a crack, and the painful noise of tendons and ligaments readjusting, accompanied by a bloodcurdling scream from Alex. Lets get him back to the house. This place will be crawling with cops soon. You two stay behind and quickly make our presence disappear, said Chef. He then looked into Alexanders bloody face. Did Meghan go over the edge with the car? Alex broke eye contact with the big cleric, staring at the ground. They kidnapped her before they chased me down. Im certain of it. Ive got to get you to Monk for a debrieng. Hold onto my hand with your good arm, and well get you out of this muddy soup. Moments later, Alex was seated on a towel in Monks ofce. The leader had dismissed the other monks, and was pacing the oor with agitation. How did you nd me? the former pastor wondered. You were late in returning, so I had just sent some of the boys into town to get you when we heard the sound of two explosions, and saw the smoke from the valley below. You were only ten minutes away, so the boys made it to the scene pretty quickly. Now tell me what happened. Tell me every detail and do it all quickly. The more time passes, the less likely we will ever see Meghan alive again. Alex shifted awkwardly in his chair. His head and body ached, but nothing could compare to the pain he felt in his heart over the swirl of desolation that had been born through his actions. He wanted to die. Nothing surrounding his pathetic existence mattered any more. Screw it. He would tell Monk everything. In the next ten minutes he tearfully relayed all of his secrets, from the compromised recordings on his laptop computer, to his spontaneous visit to the church in Camden

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Heights in an attempt to clear his name. Through it all the head cleric sat in stoic silence. Once he had nished, and had blown his nose with a tissue, Monk dismissed him with cold indifference. Alexander, go take a shower and see Doc. He will dress your abrasions and will check to see if there is any further damage. I have work to do. Do you think well nd Meghan? Alex asked, commencing another round of uncontrolled sobbing. Its doubtful. Im going to send the boys out now to try to bring her home. Please go, and get cleaned up. But what can I do to help? I want to help! Listen! Monk snapped, his next words coming in the short bursts of a machine gun. Never in all my years have I met such an egomaniacal, passive-aggressive, religious nitwit as you. Everything that has been given to you by the Great One was a generous gift. Yet, youve somehow managed to destroyed each of these blessings through your arrogance. You destroyed Nicodemus, and now youve quite possibly destroyed Meghan. Get out of here, and let me clean this mess up! Well talk later! Alex limped from the room; the will-to-live bleeding out of him with each step. The senior clerics words had stung, but he acknowledged their truth. He was a destroyer. What were the Ancient Words quoted to him by Sylvia? Pride precedes a disaster, and an arrogant attitude precedes a fall. How the mighty had fallen. Perhaps it was time to end the miserable life that had been a disaster from the day he was born. In a daze, he slipped unnoticed through a side door and stumbled up the path away from the house among the cliffs, hoping beyond hope that when he jumped, the Great One would have mercy on his soul. ***** Early on in the trip to New York City, Meghan struggled to keep her composure. The black fabric over her head made breathing difcult, and the zip-ties tore at her skin limiting circulation to her wrists and ankles. On the verge of a hysterical outburst, she sensed words being spoken from the center of her being in the silence. Though she could not identify the voice, it spoke with a familiar tone and cadence.
CAN YOU ADD SINGLE HOUR TO YOUR LIFE BY WORRYING?

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No, she replied to herself. There was no point in worrying. Under the circumstances there was nothing she could do. She took a deep breath, and the mystical voice spoke again.
A THIEF COMES TO STEAL, KILL, AND DESTROY. BUT I CAME SO THAT MY SHEEP WILL HAVE LIFE AND SO THEY WILL HAVE EVERYTHING THEY NEED. I AM THE GOOD SHEPHERD. THE GOOD SHEPHERD GIVES HIS LIFE FOR THE SHEEP.

Another deep breath. Yes, she had yielded her life to the Messiah just two nights ago. Could it be that the voice was his? The tension in her shoulders released. She belonged to him now. She was his. Only he would be capable of getting her out of this mess. Silently, she petitioned her king to act on her behalf. Several hours later, the car came to a complete stop. The man beside her cut off her restraints and removed the bag from her head. You are about to be placed in one of the Agencys minimum-security detention centers, he said. There are guards posted outside the door at all times, and there is no way to escape from the inside of the town house. In a day or two, legal representation will be brought to you in order to begin your due process. Understand? She nodded, looking around as casually possible, trying to place their location. It was a lower income residential street in what seemed to be the center of the city. The agent nudged her, and she followed him as he led the way up the stairs, the two others falling in behind. Walking down a hallway, they stopped at a door that was partly open, and the lead agent kicked an empty chair and muttered, What the hell? Wheres the guard? He dialed the boss on his cell phone. Yeah Kev, its me, Frank. Were here at House C with the girl. The doors open, and there aint no guards posted. What do you want us to do? ...Yeah, Ill wait until you call me back. The agent ipped the phone shut in disgust, shooting a knowing look at his comrades. Its so like this damned Agency to make you waste half a day driving halfway across the country, only to make you waste the other half while they get their shit straightened out. You, he pointed at Meghan, you sit tight in this chair. She complied, wondering if enough feeling had come back to her feet to attempt escape. The greying man who was in charge could easily be outrun, but his two muscled-up goons might be another story. Suddenly, goose-bumps emerged on her arms and she became overcome by an odd sensation. Words again began to surround her soul, this time like the gentle whisper of a breeze on exposed skin.

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WAIT! DONT YOU KNOW? HAVENT YOU HEARD? THE ETERNAL GOD, THE LORD, THE CREATOR OF THE ENDS OF THE EARTH, DOESNT GROW TIRED OR BECOME WEARY. HIS UNDERSTANDING IS BEYOND REACH. HE GIVES STRENGTH TO THOSE WHO GROW TIRED AND INCREASES THE STRENGTH OF THOSE WHO ARE WEAK. EVEN YOUNG PEOPLE GROW TIRED AND BECOME WEARY, AND YOUNG MEN WILL STUMBLE AND FALL. YET, THE STRENGTH OF THOSE WHO WAIT WITH HOPE IN THE LORD WILL BE RENEWED. THEY WILL SOAR ON WINGS LIKE EAGLES. THEY WILL RUN AND WONT BECOME WEARY. THEY WILL WALK AND WONT GROW TIRED. WAIT!

As the words swept over her, she relaxed more deeply in the chair. If the Messiah was telling her to wait, she would not make a run for it. She would remain condent that he knew best. The lead agent was on the phone again. Youre sure? Lock her in there with no guard? ...Yeah, I understand. The guard will be here soon? ...before the fresh crop begins arriving later tonight? Alright then, you know best. Ill just follow orders. The agent pushed the door open and led Meghan into a tidy living room, with a at screened television mounted on the wall. This will be your new home for awhile, said the emotionless, grey-haired man in the blue trench-coat. It could be a hell-of-a-lot worse. Make yourself at home. Somebody will be by with a meal later on. Thats the way it usually works. The door slammed shut, and after waiting for awhile, Meghan tested the handle. It was securely locked from the outside. Knowing that escape through the door was impossible, she studied every angle of the home looking for an avenue for escape. In the process she discovered the home gym and small swimming pool in the basement, the movie theater on the rst oor, and fteen narrow bedrooms, each with doors locking on the outside, located on the second oor, not far from where she had entered. ***** A nor-easter was whipping up the coast of the Atlantic. From his perch on the Park-nFly lookout, Alex could watch the dark clouds as they amassed on the horizon. Grabbing a handful of pebbles near the root he had anxiously clung to just yesterday, he began throwing them over the edge, one-by-one, waiting for some kind of noise that would indicate depth of the drop-off. None came. He considered screaming into the valley below a deep, agonizing, guttural scream but his apathy would not allow him to proceed. A scream would indicate that he still

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cared. He didnt. He then further pondered on whether the wives-tales hed heard about suicide and heaven and hell were true. On this subject, he too decided that he didnt care. A warm breeze blew from the top of the mountain, chasing through some lingering sun rays, not yet overtaken by the billowing clouds. The wind carried words to his soul.
THOSE WHO WANT TO COME WITH ME MUST SAY NO TO THE THINGS THEY WANT, PICK UP THEIR CROSSES, AND FOLLOW ME. THOSE WHO WANT TO SAVE THEIR LIVES WILL LOSE THEM. BUT THOSE WHO LOSE THEIR LIVES FOR ME WILL FIND THEM. WHAT GOOD WILL IT DO FOR PEOPLE TO WIN THE WHOLE WORLD AND LOSE THEIR LIVES?

Was this why he was now going to take his miserable life? Because he had tried so fervently to extract what he thought he deserved from it? But what was he deserving of? A picture of Putnam IIs face suddenly came to mind. Did he deserve his fathers approval? No. If he had wanted approval, he would have gone into the political lobbying business. If not approval, what did he want? Unconditional acceptance... and love. That was it. He desperately wanted his dad to respect him for the choices he had made, even though they did not match his fathers expectations. This would have sent the message that the man truly loved the boy... that the man was in his corner, ready to cheer him on... that the man would have given up his life, to ensure that his boy succeeded. But the man would do no such thing. Putnam II hated him and despised what he represented. Why then, did he continue to long for his fathers respect? After all, he was no knight in his fathers kingdom. He was supposed to be the Messiahs white knight. The Messiah, who freely gave up his life, granting him a new birth into perfect liberty. And what had he done with his freedom? He exploited the wives and daughters of other men with his eyes. He made them his virtual slaves, locking them into their own special les on his computer hard drive. He molested them in his imagination, while he preached the Laws of God to a church congregation. He had become their Enlightened One; the focus of their reverence and respect. He had embraced illumination, and it had poisoned his soul with pride. In a dramatic change of heart, he suddenly decided that jumping to his death would be too good of an end for him. A real man would admit his crimes and face the music, knowing that punishment was what he truly deserved. What honor would there be in throwing himself off this cliff? What courage? It would be one thing to die and have it count for something. It would be another, if all it accomplished was to eradicate pain and the necessity of taking responsibility for his actions.

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Truth be told, he just didnt care about his life anymore. He could care less if his father hated him, and had written him off. He could care less if Monk was mad at him, or if the other clerics thought he was an imbecile. He could care less if the whole congregation of Camden Heights First United Congregational Church thought he was an immature fool. But there remained a few things that he still cared about. Just a few. He cared that he had been a passive accomplice in the death of Nicodemus and the kidnapping and likely murder of his wife. He cared that that he was a hypocrite of the highest order. He cared that he had created the illusion that he was an Illumined One, when in reality, he knew that he was a lthy degenerate. Concern gripped him over these few remaining things, because interestingly, he still cared deeply about what the Great One thought of him. When it came down to it, all that really mattered was whether or not honor was brought to his king through the courageous chivalry of his white knight. Rising to his feet, he heard a desperate voice call out from behind him. Dont do it Alexander! Dont jump!

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Chapter 56 M
onk scrambled down the embankment to the edge of the cliff with such careless speed that his momentum nearly jettisoned both men to their deaths. Shaken by the close call, both sat on the ledge, with a nervous chuckle and involuntary trembling in their limbs. Im glad I caught you, before you did something regrettable, exclaimed the cleric. You call that catching me, Alex responded wryly. You almost threw us over the cliff! You mean, you werent going to jump? I had my heart set on it when I got here, but the Messiah talked me out of it. Youre still hearing his voice, then? Monk wondered, his brow furrowed. The Almighty be praised! Why is it so important that Im still hearing his voice? It means that you are still on the road the Great One has prepared for you to travel. When we stop hearing his voice, its a sign that weve taken a wrong turn on our journey. Youre telling me, that even though my actions have led to the deaths of both Nicodemus and Meghan, I am still in the midst of the Great Ones plan for my life? The Messiah brings the Great Ones mercy to unfaithful people. This is why he is known to us as the Great Redeemer. When we are reborn into the Ancient Ways, one of two things will occur. Either well fall upon the Messiah voluntarily, in humble brokenness, or well proudly insist on living our lives according to our old patterns of enlightenment and greed, and become crushed by the consequences of our malevolent deeds. Listen to the Ancient Words, he offered, retrieving the worn, leather-bound book from his cloak.
Anyone who falls on this stone will be broken. If the stone falls on anyone, it will crush that person.

Alexander. Your training in organized religion has made you too concerned with how people perceive you. Organized religion has brainwashed you into living a double-life. On the one hand you have successfully created the illusion that you are enlightened, and worthy of other peoples attention and respect. On the other hand there is the real

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you, who is nothing more than a wounded little boy seeking to self-medicate himself with the comforts offered by this world. Though you have been reborn into the Ancient Ways, you have failed to fall upon the Messiah in humility. Because of this, he has mercifully granted his permission for you to be crushed. Listen to the Great Ones words, written just for you, he said, ipping through the pages of his book.
Since we are surrounded by so many examples of faith, we must get rid of everything that slows us down, especially sin that distracts us. We must run the race that lies ahead of us and never give up. We must focus on Jesus, the source and goal of our faith. He saw the joy ahead of him, so he endured death on the cross and ignored the disgrace it brought him. Then he received the highest position in heaven, the one next to the throne of God. Think about Jesus, who endured opposition from sinners, so that you don't become tired and give up. You struggle against sin, but your struggles haven't killed you. You have forgotten the encouraging words that God speaks to you as his children: "My child, pay attention when the Lord disciplines you. Don't give up when he corrects you. The Lord disciplines everyone he loves. He severely disciplines everyone he accepts as his child." Endure your discipline. God corrects you as a father corrects his children. All children are disciplined by their fathers. If you aren't disciplined like the other children, you aren't part of the family. On earth we have fathers who disciplined us, and we respect them. Shouldn't we place ourselves under the authority of God, the father of spirits, so that we will live? For a short time our fathers disciplined us as they thought best. Yet, God disciplines us for our own good so that we can become holy like him. We don't enjoy being disciplined. It always seems to cause more pain than joy. But later on, those who learn from that discipline have peace that comes from doing what is right.

Alex waited until the cleric had nished reading to express his confusion. But how can I still be in the Great Ones will when so many of my actions have hurt others? I love Meghan, and I cared deeply for Nicodemus. In my self-centeredness, Ive destroyed both of their lives, he said, blinking the tears from his eyes. I too could have destroyed your life through my ill-tempered behavior back there at the house, Monk said sheepishly. None of us are immune from being tempted into the wicked patterns that controlled us before we were reborn into the Ancient Ways. This is why we must constantly fall upon the mercy provided to us by the Messiah. The Apostle Paul once said, If I must brag, I will brag about all of the things that show how weak I am. When we come to the place of accepting ourselves with such honesty, we will cease to create an illusion that we are deserving of respect because we are enlightened. I want to apologize to you for losing my temper back there. It was completely uncalled for.

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Forget about it... it was all my fault, Alex hung his head in his hands. And now I have lost her. She is gone forever, all because I wanted to prove something to that stupid church! And what did you aim to prove? asked Monk. That they were wrong, and couldnt treat me like a piece of trash, just because they believed they had the power and position to do it. And now? the cleric waited for a response. And now, I dont really give a shit! Ive stopped caring, Monk. I dont care about any of it. Is that wrong? No, dear friend, he said, putting his arm around the younger mans shoulders. When at rst you refused to be broken by the Messiah, he had no other choice but to allow you to be crushed. Now that youve been broken, you have died to your care about pride and greed. You are now free to live your life as a knight committed to the Great Ones cause. Despite the clerics encouraging words, Alex remained distraught. But what kind of life remains for me? Ive allowed my wife to be stolen, likely raped, and killed. I didnt ght for her, as would a courageous knight. I betrayed her, basically handing her over to my enemies. Im not sure I can live with myself, Monk. You must use the memory of poor decisions in the past to remind you of the devastation that you are capable of, once you become separated from the Great Ones guiding hand, Monk advised. Sincere sorrow can be a powerful motivator to never trust yourself, ever again. Instead, trust in these words written by the wise Apostle:
I will brag even more about my weaknesses in order that Christ's power will live in me. Therefore, I accept weakness, mistreatment, hardship, persecution, and difculties suffered for Christ. It's clear that when I'm weak, I'm strong.

***** Meghan was exhausted. Just eight hours earlier, she had been free, and would have been enjoying a lazy morning with Alex, were it not for his fateful decision to drive back to Camden Heights. Why had he felt that he must return to the church one nal time? Was it a sense of justice? Or something else? Had she been a fool to marry Alex on such short notice? Had it been her undoing? No. Regardless of her current dilemma, she was glad she had reconnected with Alexander Putnam. She had always loved him, and now through him, she had also met

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Sylvia and Monk. It was because of their inuence that she had decided to become reborn into the Ancient Ways; a decision that according to the Ancient Words held eternal consequences. Really... she rationalized. If it ended up that she was going to be raped and killed, what was an hour or two of terror, compared to a life with the Great One who would heal her of all pain, making her whole once again for all eternity. It was her only hope. She knew those werent real cops, and regardless of what they said, there was going to be no due process. It was a brave face she was putting on. Meghan was unable to fool herself, knowing that she might become overcome by the increasing fear mounting on the inside of her at any time. She began doubting herself, wondering if more could have been done to have saved her from her current circumstances. Could she have screamed for help at the church? When the voice had told her to wait, should she have run, trying to make a break for it? Was the voice really a sinister force working in cooperation with the men who had snatched her? She wandered to one of the bedrooms and lay down on the neatly made mattress lying on the oor. Shutting her eyes, she petitioned the Great One. Do not forget me, she uttered, because I have been made a daughter of the king. Her hand suddenly bumped upon a hard, cold, rectangular object wedged between the mattress and the wall. Tugging upward on an edge, she pulled a leather-bound book free from its hiding place. It was a copy of the Ancient Words. Realizing what it was, she gripped the book tightly, crying out into the empty room: Please! I beg of you, my Great One. Send me a message through this book. Give me the words to strengthen and guide in this desperate time of need. Encourage me with your promises... Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she clenched her eyes shut, and allowed the book fall open where it may. It opened to a page where someone before her had underlined the words. Anxiously, she read the passage:
Don't be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Instead, fear the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Aren't two sparrows sold for a penny? Not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's permission. Every hair on your head has been counted. Don't be afraid! You are worth more than many sparrows.

Thank you! she cried, holding the open book to her chest. Thank you! What was that?! A noise coming from the front door of the townhouse? Had it just been unlocked and opened?

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Very quietly, she gathered herself into a tight ball in a corner behind the bedroom door, listening to the footsteps of someone walking through the apartment. ***** Monk and Alex walked back to the safe-house, deliberating what their next move should be when it came to nding Meghan. The other monks were scouring the scene in Camden Heights, while using every one of Monks connections to produce a lead. There was little more they could do, than wait. The former pastor continued to beat himself up, blaming himself for the kidnapping of his new wife. Have you forgiven them? asked the cleric, stepping carefully along the path. It had begun to spit a cold rain, which slowed their progress among the increasingly slippery rocks. Forgiven who? Alex shivered. The pastors at the church, and also the people who kidnapped Meghan. You must forgive them. Like hell! Exactly my point, Monk responded. It will be like hell if you dont forgive them. Thats crazy! said Alex, hostility welling up within him. Those bastards took my wife. I know. But forgiveness is the mechanism that releases the Great Ones judgment upon your oppressor. When you choose not to forgive, you are making a statement into the spiritual realm that you are comfortable being your oppressors judge. The Great One will not release his judgment, until you release your oppressor into your forgiveness. The Great One always respects the free will of humankind. But when we choose to use our free will to judge other people, we are sending the message that we know better than the Great One. This is a characteristic which is shared with Lucifer, the Light Bearer, who believes that his enlightened philosophy is superior to the Ancient Ways. Therefore, all people who judge others through their proud position of illumination, will be judged more harshly by the Great One. I doubt that this is something which you desire for yourself. No, its not, Alex agreed. But I want them to pay for what theyve done to me! Thats understandable, Monk empathized, but do you want to pay for all of the girls you have violated through your porn xation? How many of those girls were sexually

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abused as children? How many were the victims of rape? How many were sold into child prostitution? How many were drug addicts, who were masked by expert cosmeticians to look glamorous, even though their bodies were deteriorating? Essentially, you got your rocks off on each of these things. Do you want to pay for what you did to these girls? When you put it that way, no. Then you must release the pastors at the church, along with Meghans kidnappers. You must send a message into the spiritual realm that you believe that the Great One is more capable of meting out justice than you are. As soon as you do this, he will act. I want to Monk. I really want to. But I just cant! Especially when it comes to the goons that took Meghan. They stopped under a tree then, and Monk, once again, opened the book that he always kept in his cloak pocket. Listen to what the Messiah says:
You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I tell you not to oppose an evil person. If someone slaps you on your right cheek, turn your other cheek to him as well. If someone wants to sue you in order to take your shirt, let him have your coat too. If someone forces you to go one mile, go two miles with him. Give to everyone who asks you for something. Don't turn anyone away who wants to borrow something from you.

Yeah I know these words well, said Alex. But they kind of y in the face of being a knight in the Great Ones kingdom, dont they. I mean, as Meghans husband, I should have been there to protect her against evil. I should have been there to ght to the death for her, just as I would for my children... if we had any. There! Your brainwashing by the Illumined Ones who lead organized religion has revealed itself again in your manner of thinking. The Illuminati know that the Great One has assigned men to be the leaders, providers, and protectors of families. Therefore, it has taken great pains to unseat their authority to this end. The concepts of no-fault divorce, gender neutrality, homosexual marriage, and various addictions be they materialism, alcohol, sports, or pornography are each obvious attacks against male leadership in families. But organized religion is a lesser known mechanism that has been used to good effect to emasculate men. Turning the other cheek does not mean that men are to bend over, and take it up the ass, when evil presents itself against families, the cleric spoke frankly. That would mean willfully submitting to the Luciferian philosophy of taking that which was never meant to be given; a philosophy that drives everything from butch homosexuality to a nations decit spending. As they began to walk again, it became evident to Monk how damaged Alexanders belief system had become through organized religion. Perhaps it would take a year or

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more in Central America to unravel the tangled mess created by the Illumined Ones who had inltrated the Christian church. He continued talking, knowing that the discussion was keeping the young pastors mind occupied; away from the self-condemning helplessness he felt over the loss of Meghan. In ancient times, the left hand was used for unclean purposes, Monk explained. Therefore, when a person slapped another across the right cheek, he would be doing it with the back of his right hand. Slapping someone in this fashion was meant to denigrate the one being struck. The action said: I am superior to you, and you are beneath me, scum! This is the precise attitude of Illumined Ones today. Anyone who questions the authority of an Enlightened One must be bitch-slapped back into submission. But what does the Messiah tell us to do when that occurs. Does he tell us to cower in fear? Does he tell us to pull our pants down, and bend over? No. He tells us to turn the other cheek. What does this mean? We know that the aggressor cannot then use the back of their left hand, for it is used only for unclean purposes. It means they would have to strike using an open hand, which would change the circumstances drastically. According to the traditions of the time, hitting someone with an open hand would indicate that the person being struck was of the same social status as the hitter. It would say, We are equals, lets ght! and this kind of fails to make the point that the Illumined Ones like to make; namely that they are superior. Additionally, hitting someone with an open hand would make the aggressor vulnerable to assault charges in a court of law. So when the Messiah is telling us to turn the other cheek, he is really telling us to courageously resist the Illumined Ones, while making certain that we dont take matters into our own hands to acquire revenge. And do you know why? Because his justice his far more swift and nal, than any revengeful plot we could hatch up with our own minds. So were just supposed to turn the other cheek and take it? Alex asked, still grappling with the ramications of the new revelation. What about self-defense? Self-defense is very different from taking revenge. The Messiah not only encourages us to resist the illumined oppressors, but also gives us permission to defend our families from them, using force if necessary. They stopped again, while Monk again shed out the book. Listen to what he says:
Then Jesus said to them, "When I sent you out without a wallet, traveling bag, or sandals, you didn't lack anything, did you?" "Not a thing!" they answered. Then he said to them, "But now, the person who has a

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wallet and a traveling bag should take them along. The person who doesn't have a sword should sell his coat and buy one...

Just to show you how deeply entrenched the Illumined Ones have become in our religious circles today, consider the prospect that so many Christian churches support Americas foreign wars, particularly against Islam. Isnt it interesting that these same churches who promote revengeful aggression against a foreign enemy, also promote that men take it up the ass when a domestic aggressor, like the Illuminati who are the wicked shadow government behind the puppets in Congress, the White House, and the Supreme Court threaten the safety of the American family? But Islam is a threat to our way of life... Alex was not able to nish his statement before Monk cut him off. Hogwash! Son, when you are in Central America, your mind will be renewed into the Ancient Ways, breaking the bonds of the mind-control executed upon you by the Illumined Ones. Islam means, submission. It is a faith, based on submission to their god, Allah. While I disagree with some of the conclusions arrived at by Islam, I respect that their intention in life is to submit to one god. The opposite of submission is rebellion. Muslims consider America to be the Great White Satan, and this has been a fairly accurate statement in the past century. Currently, America is a whore, who spreads her lth and disease throughout the entire planet, claiming that her democratic culture is modern and enlightened. If youve ever doubted why a Muslim might consider the United States to be a purveyor of wickedness, consider the programming they receive over their satellite dishes, and how such images of materialism, murder, and debauchery threatens their culture and their faith. The Illumined Ones and their minions have compromised Americas politicians, taken over the leadership of our army, militarized our domestic police agencies, become the producers of our lms and music, and the editors of our newspapers. They have set a new direction for our public schools and universities, and have convinced us of innovative domestic and foreign policies that would have created outrage one hundred short years ago. They have used their banks and corporations to blind us to everything but materialism. They have proted by putting the entire nation into a debt so great, it can never be repaid. But the worst of it is, that theyve successfully inltrated Americas churches, where theyve transformed what was once the hub of a community, into an impersonal small business that has been corrupted by conict of interest.

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These are the issues you must write about, when you tell the story of Nicodemus life, Monk noted, taking his rst deep breath in several minutes. They walked on for a long time in silence, each petitioning the Great One on Meghans behalf. Monk eventually began shaking his head, whispering intently toward the sky, with a conicted look upon his face. Whats wrong? Alex inquired, as the house came into view. The cleric took his time in responding. Every action we take in obedience to the Great One advances his Cause. When we are disobedient, it advances the cause of the Light Bearer. There are never any neutral actions. Unfortunately, our disobedient actions frequently have unforeseen consequences. Alex began to tear up again, and was soon weeping uncontrollably. He looked Monk, straight in the eyes, and asked the question, without wanting to hear the answer. Do you mean that Meghan is now gone forever? The Great One has told you that she is dead? It was all my fault! I take complete responsibility. No, son. Though Meghan is gone, I have not been given any message regarding whether she is dead or alive. What the Great One just told me, was that you have forfeited your opportunity to write the book about Nicodemus life. You will pass all of your notes and recordings onto another person, and they will complete the task. I no longer care about the book. Just as long as Meghan isnt dead! All we can do is wait on the Great One and his Messiah. It is a characteristic unique to the Almighty, that only he can take that which was meant for evil, and redeem it, in order to further advance the cause of good. Whether that includes bringing Meghan home alive, is strictly up to him. ***** Felicity? Madame Chantalle called out into the empty living room. Her heart beating faster in the silence. Girls?! Silence. She had taken both of her miserable parents to the airport, and had stopped on the return trip, to participate in the girls graduation from the correctional facility, according to the guards instructions. There had been no watchman posted outside the door, and she had to use the key hidden in the re extinguisher closet to gain entry. Quite clearly the guard had been lying to her about the ceremony. Walking down the hallway, she noted the clean oors and the freshly made beds. They must be getting ready for a new group of girls, she speculated. Opening Felicitys bedroom door, she immediately noticed the open Bible, sitting on the bed. Stooping

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down to retrieve it, she caught sight of the black-haired girl, with vivid green eyes huddled in the corner. Sweet child, why are you here? Meghan looked up at the heavyset woman and saw kindness. She was not one of them. She couldnt be. Help me! Please help me! she pleaded. What did you do, that landed you in here, asked Madame Chantalle, extending a hand to help the slender girl to her feet. I was kidnapped this morning in northern Virginia. They brought me here. You must help me escape! Youre not a criminal? No! Some men snatched me right out of a church parking lot this morning. I need your help! The guard could arrive at any time now. Weve got to get out of here! Alright! said Madame, suddenly feeling the urgency. If what this girl had said was true, what had become of poor Felicity? They exited the bedroom and were quickly moving down the hallway when they heard the door to the outside world click shut, and sound of feet shufing about in the living room, as the big screen TV came to life on a sports channel. They stopped in their tracks. You must play along, Madame whispered, putting Meghan behind her. When you break free, take this cell phone and call a man named Monk. His name is in my contacts list, and can be trusted. Monk? The bald guy with a grey beard and the brown cloak? asked Meghan incredulously. Thats him, honey. You know him? She nodded excitedly, and with big eyes, jammed the cell phone into her jeans pocket. Now follow my lead! the big womans voice trembled, and she began her noisy march down the hallway. Hellooo? she called out. Whos there? yelled the guard nervously. Its just Madame. The door was open when I arrived, so I didnt see any harm in training a new employee from the Institute. Ofcer Nick, meet my associate Deborah. She will be handling the instruction of the girls in the coming semester.

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Meghan held out an arm out to shake the guards hand. Taken by surprise, he fumbled with the clicker, turning off the TV. You two should probably get out of here, he said, trying to regain his composure. The new bunch will begin arriving soon, and the boss never wants outside contractors present when they get here. Youd better leave, he said, putting the key in the lock, to open the door, and push them out. Just then, his cell phone rang. Quickly! Madame Chantalle whispered as they walked through the doorway leading to the outside world. Run down this hallway and down those stairs and get to some place where there are lots of people. Use my phone and call Monk. Ill be alright. Meghan lingered beside the big woman, not wanting to leave her behind. Wait a minute Madame, said the guard from inside the apartment. Did you see a dark-haired girl here when the two of you... Hey! Come back here! The guard plunged through the doorway, intent on catching the black-haired girl now sprinting down the hall. Madame shifted her substantial girth and knocked the guard off-balance. When he tumbled to the oor, she innocently fell upon him. He fought wildly, fearful that he would not be able to break free from the suffocating weight. Get off me, bitch! Get off! She pretended awkwardness, as though she were struggling to get up, but was unable to nd her feet. Finally, in a panic the guard brandished a knife from his pocket, and yelled, Get off me or Ill stick you like a pig! Madame Chantalle did not hesitate with what she did next. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around the struggling man, restraining him further. She let out a gasp at the rst thrust of the blade, but continued to smother the guard spewing profanities beneath her. The knife continued its plunging, and it became increasingly difcult for her to hold onto the violent man beneath her. His body was slipperier now, and everything was beginning to fade to black. When she was condent that the girl with the dark hair had made her escape, she relaxed her muscles, allowing the guard to push her away and get to his feet. He slipped and slid on the hallway oor in an attempt to follow, and then thought twice about the pursuit. He was, after all, covered in blood. *****

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Monks phone rang in the mountains of north-western Virginia. After the call, he placed two calls himself to arrange for Meghans retrieval, and ran to tell Alex the news, where the two men humbly gave thanks. There was no time for celebration. Tomorrow, they each would be leaving the country; perhaps to never return. In just one short day, they would need to close up shop, arrange for disguises that would match their fake passports, and Alex would have to make a lengthy trip by car to drop off a bare-bones manuscript, and all of the other supporting evidence to another writer located in Upstate New York. It would be another two weeks before Monk would discover that another member of his Rebirthed Resistance Madame Chantalle had been killed; unselshly spilling her blood, so that Meghan could live. It was all part of the code of self-sacrice revealed in the Ancient Words... It was the foundation of the Ancient Ways, demonstrated by the Messiah, who, as the Son of God, willingly shed his blood to rescue all of humankind... It was the code of chivalry... It is the method that every humble soul who embraces being reborn into the Ancient Ways will be delivered from the hand of the Illumined Ones, who to this day, long to control the world at any cost. *****

Now that we have God's approval by faith, we have peace with God because of what our Lord Jesus Christ has done. Through Christ we can approach God and stand in his favor. So we brag because of our condence that we will receive glory from God. But that's not all. We also brag when we are suffering. We know that suffering creates endurance, endurance creates character, and character creates condence. We're not ashamed to have this condence, because God's love has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. Look at it this way: At the right time, while we were still helpless, Christ died for ungodly people. Finding someone who would die for a godly person is rare. Maybe someone would have the courage to die for a good person. Christ died for us while we were still sinners. This demonstrates God's love for us.

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Epilogue O
nce the rst draft of this manuscript was complete, I sent a copy to Monk and Alex (Percival Marshall) to peruse. A month later after integrating their suggestions into the next rewrite Alex phoned, wondering if I had any further questions. Below is a transcript of that phone call. ***** Kent Wallace: Ive been grieving over how Ive had to write the ending of this book. You really do make a frustratingly, lousy hero. Various readers, including my wife, think that there should be more victory in the ending. But youve fought hard to keep it as is. Why? Alexander Putnam III: Your wifes not alone. Many readers have concurred, that I come off as a jackass. However, the book accurately portrays my choices in thought and action. I want that honesty portrayed. I want other men to know that although they may feel morally compromised in the midst of their compulsions, they can still choose to be noble white knights, who will stand for what is right and true. KW: You and I corresponded frequently during the writing of the manuscript, as there were various different sources that needed to be integrated, in order to make a cohesive ctional story from the events of your life. Besides the digital recordings and notes of your time with Nicodemus, you sent up some pages from Madame Chantalles diary. Do you feel that the nal manuscript is a decent representation of what transpired, while giving a pretty honest glimpse into the condition of the world today? AP: I think the book does a pretty decent job of hitting on all of the high points, while keeping to the story-line of the events which took place in my life during that period of time. While Nicodemus went into great detail about what took place at the Gathering of the Brotherhood ceremonies, he never revealed the words they used during their Rites. So it was neat how you integrated the actual words from the Crafts ritual there. Madame Chantalles part of the story is heartbreaking. We would have never known what was going on in her personal life behind the scenes if the monks hadnt recovered her diary. KW: Speaking of heartbreaking, how are you coping with Nicodemus and Madame Chantalles death. I know that the responsibility you felt for their murders has been one of your greatest struggles over the past year.

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AP: Im still not over it, and I probably never will get over it. I know that those two beautiful people are dead because of my choices and my foolish pride. I have to keep reminding myself that the Messiahs forgiveness covers such horrible sins, and that I am only shortchanging his complete work on the Cross by continuing to feel guilty. In the past few months, the guilt I have felt has been transformed into remorse. I think that that is probably a healthy outcome. KW: Speaking of pride, you went around-and-around with Nicodemus, Sylvia, and Monk on the topic of organized religion. One of the obstacles to your understanding of what they were trying to communicate to you, was the amount of time and money you spent on post-secondary education. Whats the connection there? AP: Higher education is like science. If the more that we learn simply reminds us of how little we actually know, then it is a healthy endeavor, because it keeps us humble. However, most educational institutions, much like organized religion, are heavily inuenced by Illumined Ones, who convey that the more you know, the more enlightened you are. And the more enlightened you are, the more superior you are to the uneducated masses. Education is much like money when it comes to pride. The more you have, the more difcult it is to humbly acknowledge the Creator. This could explain why rural areas are more spiritually inclined than upscale urban centers. In the last two decades, there has been a trend for post-secondary education to become used as a tool by the Illumined Ones to condition the minds of future generations regarding the normalcy of perpetual debt. Todays college grads, saddled with incredible amounts of school loans, have made peace with the fact that they will be paying big interest and a small amount of principle until the day they die. It is just another subtle form of enslavement. If you were an Illumined One, what would be your best option if you wanted to enslave vast populations of people? Imprison free-thinking people in re-education camps surrounded by razor wire? Or offer a college education at such a steep price that it keeps young people so busy trying to make their payments, that they dont even have the time to think? KW: Tell me how your thoughts about organized religion have changed as the months have worn on. I know this was something that you struggled with for some time. AP: Truthfully, I couldnt wrap my head around how something that purported to do so much good for so many could be rooted in so much evil. KW: And now you can? What changed? AP: I had a revelation about the conicts of interest that keep organized religion running. For example, many churches in the United States have a 501c3 tax exempt

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status. Under this arrangement with the Federal Government, religious organizations are tax exempt, and can issue receipts for donations. The only caveat is that they must stay out of the political realm. In other words, they have access to all sorts of tax benets, as long as they dont become a voice of dissent against the Federal Government. That, is a conict of interest. Consider that a pastor must feed his family out of the donations of his congregation. Based on this arrangement, would he be more inclined to keep big donors happy, rather than instructing them in the ways of godliness? Another conict of interest. Denominations have vast levels of bureaucracy. These administrators are employed by a percentage of a churchs donations. Would these religious bureaucrats shut down unhealthy churches if it ended up threatening their livelihood? Another conict of interest. Organized religion has more in common with the business world than the Ancient Ways. Its what makes many churches a social gatherings for hypocrites rather than the picture of purity one gets from reading the Ancient Words. KW: It can be so easy to be critical of the way things are now. What is the solution for the future? AP: Im not trying to be critical. Im just telling you how my outlook has changed after going through several months of deprogramming from illumined philosophies. The future of the Christian church will depend on its willingness to sell all of its earthly treasures in order to feed the hungry and clothe the poor. If a church sells or gives its building away to be a community center, for instance and gets rid of all of its paid staff, it will be well on its way to surviving the next fty years. Such a move would force the church to shift into peoples homes, where they could duplicate the pattern spelled out in the Ancient Words. By doing this, church attendance would no longer be a passive spectator sport for congregations, strictly run by the authority of their enlightened pastors or priests who are governed by conicts of interest. Everyone would have a synergistic role to play; each becoming dependent upon the Good Shepherd, himself. Many more people would be brought into freedom if this were to happen. The poor would be so blessed, Americas entitlement programs could be terminated. KW: Sounds great in theory. Do you see it happening in the near future? AP: What did the rich young ruler do in Matthew 19 when Jesus told him to sell everything he had so that he could have treasure in heaven? He walked away sad because he owned so much property. It is the same for organized religion today. Currently, much of the Christian church is distracted by building earthly kingdoms. The Vatican is a prime example.

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KW: On a different note, you and I went around an around on what this book should be titled. Explain for me why you settled on Confessions of an American Terrorist; especially considering that there are so many other Confessions... books out there. AP: On the surface, the obvious terrorist of this story is George Talbott, a man who spent much of his life betraying all of humanity, let alone the United States of America. However, the true American terrorist was always me. Consequently, any man who chooses pride, materialism, and lust over living a life of honor and integrity is also complicit in terrorism. Our country is being destroyed because men have lost their way. But we will all be held accountable in the next life for our choices during this critical time in history. KW: Speaking of integrity and you dont need to answer this if you dont want to was Monk the recipient of George Talbotts fortune? If not, what became of it? AP: I can tell you that Monk did in fact take possession of the entire Talbott estate. The companies were liquidated and all of the assets were placed in trust of a nameless African nation whose leader had been brought through his rebirthing experience by Monk. The leader is using the funds to build infrastructure, with the goal of creating a model that can be duplicated by other African countries. The idea, as I understand it, is to build societies that are debt-free and productive, while remaining morally sound and independent of western corporate intervention. The trust also stipulates that none of the funds can be used to build church buildings. The Talbott Foundation, is now under the direction of a new Board of Directors, and they are setting up pregnancy centers in many urban centers in order to walk beside young mothers who dont feel condent in bringing their babies to full term. The centers partner with these women to assist them with housing, clothing, food, education, and employment. The Foundation is also funding an educational program to service the prison system. It will be centered around the study of the Ancient Ways in the context of the history of the world. If the free men of our society are not going to stand up against the Illuminati, perhaps the incarcerated will. KW: Youre sure Monk didnt keep any of the money for himself? AP: When I asked him about that, he just laughed. He said its a lot more interesting to go through life just trusting the Great One to provide. He didnt keep a cent, and yet, he lacks for nothing. KW: Monk seems to have sympathetic views towards Islam. Does he? AP: You must understand that Monk applies the Ancient Words to everything. I mean everything! So while he does not share the Muslims theological views, he respects that they are trying to be obedient to what they know as truth in the midst of a cultural assault exported by America.

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The Illumined Ones hate the concept of one God. To them, there must be many gods, because they are each aspiring to be their own god. All of this harkens back to an unwillingness to submit. Pride and submission are polar opposites. As Nicodemus revealed to me before his death, Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are in the Illuminatis crosshairs because they are the three dominant monotheistic (one god) religions. The Plan calls for hostilities to be whipped up between the people of these religions, in order to get them to mutually destroy one another. In so doing, the world will be more naturally inclined to embrace a United Nations sponsored Global Religion of Peace, centered around the Luciferian principles of enlightenment and the worship of many deities. KW: How do you explain to people that enlightenment is evil, when the Messiah is identied as the Light of the World? AP: Let me quote from the Book of Luke, Chapter 11 here:
As the people were gathering around him, Jesus said, "The people living today are evil. They look for a miraculous sign. But the only sign they will get is the sign of Jonah. Just as Jonah became a miraculous sign to the people of Nineveh, so the Son of Man will be a miraculous sign to the people living today. The queen from the south will stand up at the time of judgment with the men who live today. She will condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear Solomon's wisdom. But look, someone greater than Solomon is here! The men of Nineveh will stand up at the time of judgment with the people living today. Since the men of Nineveh turned to God and changed the way they thought and acted when Jonah spoke his message, they will condemn the people living today. But look, someone greater than Jonah is here! "No one lights a lamp and hides it or puts it under a basket. Instead, everyone who lights a lamp puts it on a lamp stand so that those who come in will see its light. "Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eye is unclouded, your whole body is full of light. But when your eye is evil, your body is full of darkness. So be careful that the light in you isn't darkness. If your whole body is full of light and not darkness, it will be as bright as a lamp shining on you."

What does Jesus mean when he says to be careful that the light in us isnt darkness? The sign of Jonah is that Jonah was in the belly of the whale for three days. In like manner, the Messiah experienced death, and was resurrected on the third day. Therefore, his death and resurrection is the miraculous sign for the people who are living today. He goes on to say that the Queen of Sheba will stand up during the time of judgment because she submitted, and brought honor to the Great One in Solomons presence. Next, Jesus says that the residents of Nineveh will stand at the time of judgment because when they heard Jonahs message, they turned to the Great One with sorrow in their hearts for their wickedness.

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Our eyes become clouded when we choose to eat from the enlightening Tree of Knowledge, rather than the Tree of Life. When we embrace the pride of Luciferian enlightenment, served to us by the Illumined Ones, the light that is in us becomes darkness. However, when we humbly acknowledge to the Great One that we fall short of his standards, and welcome the opportunity to be reborn into the Ancient Ways, his spiritual Light is restored to the center of our being. Why? Because we have partaken in the Messiahs miraculous sign of death and resurrection. How so? Our pride ends up dying a horrible death, so that we may be resurrected by the Great One for all eternity. This Scripture from Second Chronicles sums it up nicely:
...if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves, pray, search for me, and turn from their evil ways, then I will hear their prayer from heaven, forgive their sins, and heal their country.

KW: With so much talk of the Ancient Ways in the book, could you quickly sum up for us what it means? AP: No problem. Monk has shown me that it all essentially boils down to this: A nation can choose to be self-governed by the principles established by the words of its founding documents in the case of America, this would mean the Bible and the Constitution of the United States or the words of Enlightened Ones who claim they know better than the unwashed masses. Once the men of a nation have been made ignorant to the words of the founding documents, they naturally become unprincipled. Unprincipled men create unprincipled families. And the degradation of society will simply continue until it falls into complete collapse. This is where the Enlightened Ones will step in to create order with an iron st. A society can govern itself through documents that were written with the intent in keeping a population free. Or it can reject the Ancient Ways, and by doing so, have the will of those who know better foisted upon them. The Ancient Words spell it out quite nicely. In the book of Revelation, the Apostle John talks about a beast that will emerge in the last days. This beast will be a counterfeit to the Holy Spirit of Truth which strives to make all of humankind free:
I saw another beast come from the earth, and it had two horns like a lamb. It talked like a serpent. The second beast uses all the authority of the rst beast in its presence. The second beast makes the earth and those living on it worship the rst beast, whose fatal wound was healed. The second beast performs spectacular signs. It even makes re come down from heaven to earth in front of people. It deceives those living on earth with the signs that it is allowed to do in front of the rst beast. It tells those living on earth to make a statue for the beast who was wounded by a sword and yet lived.

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The second beast was allowed to put breath into the statue of the rst beast. Then the statue of the rst beast could talk and put to death whoever would not worship it. The second beast forces all people-important and unimportant people, rich and poor people, free people and slaves--to be branded on their right hands or on their foreheads. It does this so that no one may buy or sell unless he has the brand, which is the beast's name or the number of its name. In this situation wisdom is needed. Let the person who has insight gure out the number of the beast, because it is a human number. The beast's number is 666.

The rst beast is the Illumined Ones messiah. The second beast is their false prophet. As an enslaver, he will demand that everyone receive a mark on their right hands or on their foreheads in order buy or sell anything on the earth. Now compare this to the Ancient Ways. The Book of Exodus documents the Hebrews escape from slavery in Egypt. After they were made free, Moses told the people to hold a festival to honor the Great One for mercifully delivering them out of bondage. He said:
On that day tell your children, 'We do this because of what the LORD did for us when we left Egypt.' This festival will be like a mark on your hand or a reminder on your forehead that the teachings of the LORD are always to be a part of your conversation.

The Illumined Ones want to mark humankind to keep them bound to materialism, that they may be helpful slaves for all eternity. The Great One proclaims that the way to remain free, is to remember the teachings of the Lord; keeping them as a part of our everyday conversation. We must know the Ancient Words and the Messiahs teaching. We must understand them in the context of broader history. We must always talk about it. For that is the path of the Ancient Ways.

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