The Illuminati (54 page)

“I'm glad you're on our side now,” Shepperd said with a whistle.

“I always was,” Jeff said, smiling. “I just didn't know which side was which for a while.”

Jeff Wells knew that he had a lot more in common with the people he was now helping than he did with any others he had been around. John Elder reminded him of his own father, who had always professed to being a Christian. In Jeff's mind, it was a settled issue. Just as he had decided that fraternities were not for him, he decided that Christianity was.

“That will give us at least two days to relocate,” Shepperd explained to the group. “I suggest we start packing. We'll move out two vehicles at a time, starting tomorrow morning. We'll relocate to the base in Mississippi. Jeff, you and Karen will go in one van. John, you and four of the others will go in another. We'll have clean vehicles ready along the way, if necessary.”

“I just wish I could see the look on those agents' faces when they try to fly out tomorrow,” Jeff said, snorting. “And all those flights that were rerouted to accommodate them will be in limbo when the ticket agents discover that Atlanta is no longer on their computers.”

The whole group laughed as they envisioned the chaos that would greet the government agents the next morning.

“We need to get word to our people in Atlanta to move out as quickly as possible too,” Elder said to Shepperd. “They will bear the brunt for us otherwise.”

“Already in progress, Pastor,” Jeff commented. “I instructed the central AT&T office in Chicago to call all of our safe houses and leave the coded message we agreed on.”

“Obviously the system will then wipe its feet as it leaves. Right?” Shepperd asked.

“Right,” Jeff responded as he smiled at Karen. “And they will be toll-free calls, courtesy of Data-Net.”

“Jeff, can you change the records of anyone using the system?”

Shepperd asked as he sat down in the chair next to Wells.

“Sure,” Jeff said. “You name it and I can do it while I'm inside the compiler.”

“Can you give all the users a deficit balance in their accounts?”

“Sure,” he said. He suddenly caught on to Shepperd's idea. “I can even have the government garnish their wages for the deficiencies and attach their properties.”

“Do it!” Shepperd exclaimed. “I think it's time we took the battle to the enemy. By the time we get set up in Mississippi the average American ought to be pretty fed up with the new system.”

The next day was a tangle of confusion throughout the entire country. The FBI agents who arrived at the airports expecting to pick up their tickets to Atlanta discovered that, not only did they not have tickets, there were no scheduled flights to Atlanta—ever!

One of the agents was Carl Tooms, now little more than a prison guard since being banished to Arizona. When he had been sent to that God-forsaken part of the world, he had thought he would be in charge. Instead, he was now working for a woman from the attorney general's office.

It wouldn't be so bad if I was in charge
, he thought.
There are some good-lookin' women in the camp
. But he and the other men were under orders to leave them alone now. Other screwy orders had started coming in: The prisoners were to get more food; families were to be allowed to live together; and worst of all, they were strictly off limits to all government personnel.
We might as well be running a Sunday school
, Tooms thought disgustedly.

In the beginning, camp policy had been Tooms' cup of tea. If one of the prisoners got himself killed, the guards just hauled him out in the middle of the night and buried him quietly. It had a great effect on the others; they lived in fear of the camp guards. But now, even some of the guards were protecting the prisoners. “It makes me sick,” Tooms had said at least a hundred times to anyone who would listen.

Eventually he had come to blame all his problems on Donald Shepperd.
If Shepperd hadn't raised such a stink about that broad in Chicago, I wouldn't be here
, he thought angrily. He had even heard rumors that Shepperd had turned traitor and was now working with the terrorists. When the call came in for agents to go to Atlanta, Tooms had volunteered. This would be his one chance to redeem himself and also pay Shepperd back. Maybe he could even get his own camp. The very thought of being in control of a camp excited him.

The next day he was up early; he wanted to be one of the first to Atlanta. He had heard that Rutland might even be coming to Atlanta.
The others might fear him
, Tooms thought,
but he sounds like my kind of guy
. Tooms parked his car in the airport parking lot and made his way toward the terminal building. He checked his bags at the curb after saying a few select words to the sky cap, who tried to insist there were no flights to Atlanta. “You just put them on that conveyer,” Tooms shouted at the older man, “and mark them ‘Atlanta'.”

“Let him try to find his own bags then,” the sky cap muttered under his breath as Tooms stormed away swearing.

“What do you mean you don't have my reservation?” Tooms snarled at the ticket agent in the Tucson Airport. “I'm a government official. I have to get to Atlanta today.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but our records don't show your reservations.”

Swearing loudly, Tooms said, “Then get me on the next available flight to Atlanta.”

“I'm sorry,” the frustrated ticket agent said, “but we don't have any flights to Atlanta.”

“What do you mean, you don't have any flights to Atlanta? You mean they're all booked?”

“No, sir,” the frustrated agent replied. “Atlanta does not show on our destination schedule.”

“What?” Tooms shouted, his red face revealing his highly elevated blood pressure. “Atlanta doesn't show on your schedule? Atlanta is the hub of the entire East Coast. Thousands of flights go through there every day.”

“I am sorry, sir,” she said more forcefully. “I can only tell you what the computer tells me. There are no flights into Atlanta today. If you will leave your number, we'll have someone call you when flights resume.”

Tooms offered a few more four-letter words and discovering his cell phone was low on battery, he headed off to find a phone to call the Atlanta director and apprise him of the situation. When he found the phones, there were lines waiting to use them. With no flights into Atlanta, he knew there had to be thousands of stranded passengers—a hundred and fifty were here in Tuscon, at least. He shoved his way to the front and flashed his credentials at a very frustrated woman who was trying to call her company in New York.

“I need to use that phone,” he commanded as the man in front of her hung up.

“You and a hundred other people,” she said angrily. “Just wait your turn.”

“Listen, lady. This is government business. Step aside.”With that he shoved her aside roughly.

Still fuming, she responded, “If you're with the government, then you're part of the problem. Idiot!”

Data-Net scanners had been installed at the entrance to every phone station. Verification of proper ID was required before any transaction could be completed, including long distance calls. Tooms ran his hand past the magnetic scanner before he placed his special government access card in the scanner's card reader. As soon as the ID card was scanned, the alarm sounded. He and all the others standing there were startled by the sound.

“Somebody grab him,” the angry woman screamed. “He's a terrorist or something.”

With that, several men pressed forward. Tooms reached inside his jacket for his gun and then realized he didn't have it. Even government agents were prohibited from carrying firearms aboard planes. He had packed it in the suitcase he had checked earlier.

The crowd seized him and held him down until a security guard, who had seen the commotion and heard the alarm, took him away in handcuffs. Tooms was shouting a broad variety of obscenities as he was shoved into the airport security van.

This scene, in differing degrees, was replayed all across the country as agents attempting to reach their contacts in Atlanta triggered Data-Net alarms in the airports. Eventually a few did get through to the Justice Department Enforcement Agency in Atlanta by using their own ID, rather than the special card issued by the Justice Department.

In Atlanta, Cal Rutland was just landing aboard the Defense Department's small jet plane at Dobbins Air Force Base. The pilot taxied the plane around to the private runway and braked to a stop. As Rutland exited the plane, he saw an ashen Paul Crimmins, head of the Justice Department Enforcement Agency in Atlanta, approaching. From the look on the man's face, he knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” Rutland asked, his eyes narrowing.

“None of the agents made it to Atlanta, sir,” the shaken agent said hesitantly. He had heard rumors of Rutland's power and his ruthlessness, and he had no desire to find out if all the rumors were true.

“What do you mean, no agents have made it? Why?” Rutland roared in total fury.

“We're not sure, sir,” Crimmins replied cautiously. “Somehow there has been a foul-up in the Data-Net system, and no flights can be booked into Atlanta. A few hours ago the Atlanta airport was shut down indefinitely because of a total computer failure. We don't know when the system will be operational again.”

“Wells!”Rutland spat out.“He's using the system against us. Get your men to rent cars and drive to Atlanta,” he commanded the trembling agent. “Do it now; they know we are after them!”

Crimmins paused a few seconds, trying to find a way to tell Rutland the rest. “We have another problem, sir.”

“What?”Rutland asked as he squared off in front of the agent. He was so furious Crimmins thought he was going to strike him.

“The agents who tried to use their Justice Department billing codes have been arrested. Somehow the system identified them as terrorists. We're having very little success in getting them released so far.”

“Wells!” Rutland swore as they headed into the hangar. He knew the group they sought would be long gone by the time they could clear up the mess with Data-Net. The whole exercise was a washout. Razzak would be furious.

“Have them refuel the plane!” Rutland ordered the agent. “I'll be returning to Washington immediately.”

“What about our agents, sir?”

“I'll have the system straightened out in a couple of days,” Rutland snarled. “Have them resume their duties where they are.”

Within three days, the entire team from Atlanta began reassembling in Dentville, Mississippi, on a farm owned by a family member of one of the team. The security team had been briefed and all the necessary auxiliary power was in place.

“How did it go?” Shepperd asked as the semitruck rolled to a stop in front of the enormous old cotton barn.

“We had a few anxious moments along the way at some roadblocks,” Elder said, “but your documents were perfect. Where are Jeff and the others?”

“They're already inside setting up. We tweaked the dragon's nose a little the last few days. Now we need to get down to some serious planning.”

As the group assembled, there was a definite air of optimism. For months they had seen the enemy as infallible, but now they realized the Society could be bested. And without violence. Shepperd had struggled with that issue for weeks; then John Elder had laid it to rest once and for all.

“The Lord said, ‘Pray for your enemies, and do good to them. For in doing so you will heap burning coals on their heads.' That must be our position,” Elder told Shepperd after a heated debate over using guerrilla tactics.“Neither I nor any member of the CRC will be a party to murder, no matter what the justification,” Elder said. “This battle is not just against human greed. It is a struggle against powers and principalities. Literally, it is the timeless struggle by Satan and his forces against God and His forces. We will not win by armed conflict; not this battle.”

“Do you have any objection to using confusion and frustration to keep them off guard then, Pastor?” Shepperd asked.

“None at all,” Elder responded cheerfully. “We'll turn their neat little world upside-down.”

Plans were made for Elder to meet with key CRC leaders around the country and prepare for the underground newspaper to begin publication. It was agreed that the paper, to be called
Truth
, would be published weekly in at least six areas. Facts about the Society would be presented that could easily be verified by most Americans. Initially no mention of the plot against the Christians and Jews would be broached.

“If we can undermine the credibility of the leadership and pierce the veil of secrecy, the organization will fall,” Elder said time and time again.

“The most important weapon we have is prayer,” Elder told his second group of leaders.“You must organize your people into prayer groups that will maintain a twenty-four-hour-a-day vigil. We would like to think that our plans and ideas will win this battle; they will not! Until God's people pray without ceasing, the enemy will have the upper hand.”