Fallen Masters (17 page)

“I have no idea at all,” Damron said. “Could I ask you all to join me in prayer now?”

The five men stood in a circle with their heads bowed.

“Heavenly Father, I ask you to bless these, your servants, as we set out to do Your work today,” Damron said.

“And, Heavenly Father, give Brother Damron tongue to speak Your words,” Owen added. “In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.”

*   *   *

As Damron took his position, the congregation was singing:

What a fellowship, what a joy divine,

Leaning on the everlasting arms;

What a blessedness, what a peace is mine,

Leaning on the everlasting arms.

When the song ended, Damron stepped up to the podium, gripped both sides, and bowed his head.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength, and our Redeemer.”

Damron looked out over the congregation, the largest Baptist church in Dallas, and one of the largest Baptist churches in America. He saw the eager faces looking up at him, and the three cameras that would be sending his message out through the Christ Alive Network, by satellite all over America and around the world.

Dear God,
he thought.
Bring forth the words.

“We give thanks for God’s Grace and love. At this, the beginning of the New Year, we pray for God’s mercy, that He guide us through the precarious times we face.

“In the coming days, we will face perils such as those never before faced by mankind. These difficult times will require solidarity among all God’s children, of all races and nationalities, and of all who recognize His dominion over us, in whatever religion they have chosen to reach Him.

“The earth is at a tipping point. In the last century, men and women have turned their back on the Church, they have embraced the secular over the spiritual, and they have fallen short of God’s goodness and glory.

“Because of that, Satan has chosen this time, and the generations now present on this planet, to push out God and establish his kingdom on earth. We will be besieged by a dark cloud, a cloud of evil.

“This evil cloud will incorporate all the authority of Satan, plus the combined power of all the evil that has ever resided in the soul of man, from the beginning of time, until that iniquity which inhabits the souls of those living today. Each of us will be faced with a choice—to give in to this temptation of the easy path and journey toward the negative and the ways of chaos and destruction, or to choose to fight for all that is good and pure in the cosmos.

“We must unite as never before; every man, woman, and child, link the righteousness of our souls with the goodness of all those who have gone before us, and who now, even though they dwell in Heaven, will join with us in the holy fight of good against evil.…

“Each of us must ask ourselves, not what we can get from God, but—am I open to receiving God’s love?

“What may I do to help bring peace to this world? What good acts may I take today, as one soul, one of God’s children among many—in my own home to bring the light of goodness, in our neighborhoods, and our nations on Earth? How can we act out of love today?

“The gift to us is free will and free choice. Along with that gift comes the
responsibility
to avoid evil, to make the
right
choices each day.

“And now, as we leave days and hours of the year just passed, we give thanks to God for His just and merciful judgment and elevate our thanks to Him and His love for us.”

Edison, Maryland

Jack Fender took doughnuts to the office that morning. He had worked at the real estate office as an agent for nearly ten years. Not the most successful agent, however. In fact, the sales manager, Joanie Sampson, was thinking of firing him if he didn’t close on a sale before the end of the quarter. He had become a drag on the budget, the low producer for the past sixteen months straight—and on and off for the two years prior to that.

“That’s so sweet of you!” the receptionist exclaimed when Jack walked in at nine thirty. She immediately got up from her desk to follow him into the lunchroom, where he placed the box of treats on the counter by the coffeemaker. The little room was filled with the aroma of freshly baked doughnuts and freshly brewed coffee.

Each of them took a doughnut and a cup of coffee back to the reception desk. He sat and chatted with her for a while.

“Gotta get a sale, you know,” Jack said, his mouth flecked with sugar, then took a sip of his coffee. He put the coffee cup down on the desk and reached into his jacket pocket.

The two commiserated about the weather. It had been rainy the past few days. Today looked better: sunshine in the forecast. He asked whether Joanie was in yet.

“Yes, she was in when I got here,” the receptionist said. “She’s such a go-getter. Always first in and last out in the evening.” She was smiling when Jack pulled out an automatic pistol and shot her in the chest. As she lay bleeding on the floor, he shot her in the head, execution style.

Then he walked down the narrow corridor past his own small office where he had spent less and less time since the new year. He walked into Joanie Sampson’s office without knocking.

“What—?” the sales manager blurted, but her words were cut short as Jack shot her twice. She slumped over, instantly dead, as he turned and left. There was no one else in the company at work yet. The other agents were out meeting with clients or hadn’t yet started their day.

Jack got into his car, a five-year-old SUV, and drove home. It took about six minutes. His wife was in the kitchen. Their two youngsters, Jacob and Brittany, were at school, in second and fourth grade, respectively, just a few blocks way.

*   *   *

“Honey, is that you?” Jill Fender called out. She closed the dishwasher and turned it on, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel and sighed. She wondered what he was doing home at this hour. He needed to be out there selling homes and finding new clients. They were underwater with their mortgage and two months behind in payments—so it could be disastrous to fall behind another month. He needed a paycheck.
They
needed a paycheck.

Jill walked out of the kitchen, down the hallway toward the front door. Yes, he was home, all right. He stood just inside the door.

Jack and Jill Fender. Ever since they first started dating in high school, they had been subjected to the inevitable jokes: “Jack and Jill went up the hill.…” They had enjoyed it for a long time, through the early years of their marriage and even beyond the time their two kids were born. Then—it seemed like overnight—he had stopped laughing about those “Jack and Jill” jokes. He had stopped laughing about anything.

“What’s up?” she asked as she approached. She saw him standing there, his arms at his side. Then she noticed the gun in his hand. “What the heck is that, Jack?”

“I’ve gotta close a sale. Sell a house, you know.”

“I know, honey. You’re fine. Do you need something?” She was thinking that he had left some paperwork in his study downstairs in the basement. But the gun … why was he holding a gun? Her thoughts were incoherent, scattered.

“No,” he said. He held up the pistol and shot his wife twice. Then he went outside, closing the front door behind him. He sat in the front seat of the car, on the passenger side, as if waiting for someone to drive him somewhere.

I’ve done what you wanted me to do. Now can you let me sell a house?

No one answered his unspoken question. Half an hour later the police found him there in his vehicle, shot dead by his own hand. There was no note left behind.

CHAPTER

33

New York City

“From New York, a bold fusion of entertainment, edification, and enlightenment for all America, it’s the
Dave Hampton Show
. And now, here’s Dave!”

The off-camera voice was loud and enthusiastic, reminding some of the courtside announcer introducing players at a basketball game.

When the camera moved to a closer two shot on the set, it found Dave sitting in one chair and his guest in another. It continued on in until it had a one shot of Dave.

He held up his hand, palm out. “To various and sundry out there, I bring greetings,” he said.

The studio audience applauded.

“My guest today is Dr. Craig Walcott. Dr. Walcott is an astrophysicist with NASA and a Senior Fellow from Yale University. Dr. Walcott, I want to thank you for coming on my show today.”

“It is good of you to give me this opportunity,” Dr. Walcott responded. If central casting had been asked to supply a geek for a show, they could have done no better than Walcott. He was short, thin, nearly bald, and wore dark horn-rim glasses. All that was missing was a pocket protector for his pen.

“Have you ever seen any of my shows?” Dave asked.

“I have.”

“Yes, and in fact, did not one of your people get in touch with me about the dark energies, and ask if I would have you as a guest?”

“That is true.”

“Is it also true that there is now some scientific evidence for this phenomenon?”

Dr. Walcott screwed up his face as if trying to come up with just the right answer. “You are giving it a more ominous tone than I think may be required at this point. I prefer to call it—in fact, science calls it—
dark matter
.”

“And, what is dark matter?”

“
The scientific definition is that it is a hypothesized form of matter particle that does not reflect or emit electromagnetic radiation. We can determine the existence of dark matter only because of its gravitational effects on visible matter, such as stars and galaxies. Approximately four percent of the gravitational effects observed are from visible matter. That leaves ninety-six percent presumed to result from dark matter.”

“So then, dark matter does exist,” Dave asked.

“You are asking me to state an absolute, and I can’t do that,” Dr. Walcott said.

“But you have just given us a definition of it.”

“Yes, but I specifically said that it is a hypothesis.”

“Is there currently a scientific hypothesis, subscribed to by scientists from all over the world, that a large cloud of dark matter is moving toward the Earth?”

“Yes, that is true.”

“And isn’t there also a hypothesis that this cloud of dark matter is moving more quickly than previously thought?”

Dr. Walcott didn’t answer right away, but it was obvious by the expression on his face that Dave’s question had hit a nerve. “We don’t know, but that may be the case,” he finally answered.

“Dr. Walcott, I realize that your world is scientific, and I know, too, that you, as all scientists do, deal more in probabilities and hypotheses than in, as you stated a moment ago, absolutes.

“Would it surprise you to learn that, in addition to the scientific study of this sinister shadow, there is also a conclave of religious leaders from every major religion in the world to discuss this very subject?”

“I don’t know why they would,” Dr. Walcott said. “Until we examine this phenomenon further, we don’t know all its implications.”

“You mean the implications of good and evil?”

“Good and evil?”

“Could it be that this thing we are facing, what you call dark matter, could in fact be a manifestation of age-old evil? One that goes beyond our mortal plane, one that involves the very structure of the soul?”

“There is no scientific proof that there is even such a thing as a soul,” Dr. Walcott replied.

“Didn’t you just tell us, Doctor, that there is no scientific proof, no absolute as it were, of the existence of dark matter? And yet, you are dealing with it.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Hold that thought, Dr. Walcott,” Dave said. He smiled into camera two. “We’ll be right back.”

“And we’re down for three minutes,” the floor director said.

“Mr. Hampton, that’s not a fair comparison,” Walcott said while they were in break.

“You say it isn’t a fair comparison, but did Dr. Jason Chang not tell the President that we could be dealing with a terminal event?”

Walcott gasped. “How did you know that? That has been classified as top secret.”

“How long did you think you could actually keep something like that a secret? Something that would affect every living being on the face of the Earth?”

“You must not broadcast that,” Walcott said. “To do so would cause a world panic. There would be the potential for pandemonium, all based on speculation. We don’t know that this is true.”

“On the other hand, if it is true, and if the religious disciplines of the world are correct, that this is the physical manifestation of a battle between the forces of good and evil, then would it not be incumbent upon me to rally those forces of good?”

“We’re back in ten,” the floor director said.

“Please don’t ask me that question,” Dr. Walcott said.

“I won’t mention Dr. Chang’s call to the President, but some of my questions and comments might make you uncomfortable.”

The red light came on.

“We’re back, and my guest is Dr. Craig Walcott, an astrophysicist with NASA. Dr. Walcott, do you believe in good and evil?”

“I’m—I’m not sure what you are talking about.”

“It’s a simple enough concept,” Dave said. “Mother Teresa would be an example of good, Adolf Hitler would be an example of evil. Would you agree with that?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And do you believe, metaphysically, that the forces of good and evil are always in conflict?”

Dr. Walcott pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Metaphysically, I suppose I would say that I agree.”

“And, continuing in the same metaphysical mode, are not the forces of evil sometimes referred to as dark forces?”

“Mr. Hampton, I’m not sure where you are going with this. I think before I answer any more of your questions, I would need to examine your hypotheses.”

“All right, Dr. Walcott, here it is. Is it not possible, as the religious representatives of some six billion souls now believe, that what you and the other scientists are calling dark matter could be the dark forces of evil? And if that is so, would we not do well to prepare to do battle with that force?”