The Illuminati (43 page)

The guard was still making his way down to the first level. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He had tried to use the security elevator because it would be faster than going around to the stairs. But Amelia had flipped the “hold” switch as she exited the elevator. That small detail had saved their lives.

When the guard hit the crash bar on the door to the garage, the black car was already turning the corner. Puffing, he raced into the garage. He heard the squeal of tires but saw nothing of the car or its occupants. He stopped a moment to catch his breath; then he called the security desk to report.

When the alarm sounded, Cal Rutland saw it on his own security console, a precaution he had personally ordered after Hunt's death. It gave him total visibility of all the monitors and security alarms in the White House. Within seconds of the alarm, he was headed toward Wells' office. A quick call to security on his cell phone confirmed that the security elevator had been called from that level. He instructed the security monitor to have the nearest guard meet him at the Data-Net room. They arrived at the same time. The guard paused to punch in his access code.

“I can't get the door lock to respond,” the frustrated guard said to Rutland.

“Try the main security override, you fool!” Rutland shouted back.

“I did, sir,” he stammered. “It won't work.”

“It has to!” Rutland barked as he shoved the man aside. “It will open any door in this building.”

“Not anymore,” the slightly built Oriental man said as he casually walked up. Dr. Kim Loo couldn't help but silently admire Jeff Wells.
Who would have thought that Wells was capable of using the resources of Data-Net to reprogram the White House security locks?

“What do you mean?” Rutland snarled at Loo.

“Dismiss your guard, please,” he said to Rutland politely.

“Go!” Rutland commanded the guard, who was more than happy to comply. He feared Rutland. Most of the people who worked in the White House did.

“Apparently we have underestimated young Mr. Wells again,” Loo said calmly.“He has linked his network with the internal security system and reprogrammed your master security key.”

“Can you restore it?” Rutland was barely able to control his fury.

“Yes, but it will take at least one hour. You can be sure that Wells is no longer inside. It is imperative that he be caught! There is no limit to what he is capable of doing.”

Through clenched teeth, Rutland said, “We will stop him, Doctor. You can be assured of that. We have resources he knows nothing about.” Then he turned and hurried back to his office. He knew he had to handle this matter quickly and effectively. He would not fail the Society he had pledged his life to promote. He placed a phone call.

“Lively? Rutland. We have reason to believe that Wells and the girl have escaped. They had help from someone inside. They're in one of the limousines. Can you track it?”

“We can,” Lively said assuringly. “I've had every government vehicle fitted with a locator. We'll pick it up as soon as they cross one of the ID scanners. Do you want us to stop them?”

“No!” Rutland said coldly. “Just track them to their destination. I want to find out everyone who is involved. Then we will eliminate the traitors.”

“I'll let you know as soon as we have a trace on them,” Lively said, softy humming to himself. “Things are going great,” he mused. “We're rounding up the Christians and the Jews, too. This country will soon be a fit place to live.”

Lively called his secret service command center. “Let me talk with Marla,” he snapped at the receptionist.

Marla West was Lively's head of security. She had been with the NCLU since the early '80s when President Reagan's pro-family, pro-life rhetoric had caused them a lot of grief. They had waited him out, as they had all the other right-wingers. The one thing Lively despised most about those who called themselves Christians was their lack of commitment to their cause. They always crumbled when troubles came.

Marla West was absolute in her commitment to the anti-Christian crusade. She had been convicted of torching several churches that had caused the NCLU to hide in the '90s. She had served her time, and she came out more committed than when she went in. Persecuting Christians was pure pleasure to her.

“Yes, Fred,” the stone-faced woman said into the phone as gently as she could. Marla West was sixty-four and looked ten years older. She had always been overweight, and had developed gray hair and wrinkles at thirty. She pretended that she didn't care that other people thought her ugly. In reality, she did care—a lot.

When she was a teenager, she had attended a church camp for a week. The other girls had called her “Fatty,” and “Grandma,” because of her older-looking face. She had lain in wait for two of them one night as they returned from a cookout. All she had was a broken broom handle but she had used it viciously. She split the scalp of one girl; the blood made it look like a massacre. She had pelted the other girl with the handle until she had black welts all over her face and arms.

Since it had been dark, neither of the girls really saw their attacker and Marla might have gotten away without discovery, except that she had to let them know it was her. The next day she visited the two girls in the local county hospital and told them both, “Now who looks like an old woman?” That very day she was shipped home and barred from ever attending the camp again. From then on she had developed a consuming hatred for those who called themselves Christians.

“Marla, we have an emergency,” Lively said calmly. “Two people working on Data-Net have decided to defect. They are in one of the government limos right now. We need to locate them before they change vehicles.”

“Who are they?” she asked.

“Jeff Wells and his assistant, Karen Eison,” Lively said.

“Whew,” West said. “That's pretty heavy. I thought Wells was the brains behind the network.”

“Just catch them,” Lively told her. “Rutland wants them eliminated after we find out who's involved. We can't have any screwups on this.”

“I don't make mistakes,” West countered. “I already have a trace on them, just like we do every government vehicle. They're headed down MLK right now. I'd say it's a good bet they are headed for the old airport.”

Lively signaled his chief of security. He wrote “MLK Airport” on a note and handed it to him. Instantly a call went out to any units in the vicinity, and in less than five minutes contact was made.

“Sir, one of our units is in sight of the limo,” the security chief said.

“Keep them well back,” Lively instructed. “I don't want to lose them, but we don't want them to know they've been tagged yet either.”

“What are we going to do?” Jeff asked Amelia as she drove through the crowded streets.

“We've got it all set up,” she replied as she noticed the nondescript vehicle several blocks back. She said nothing to Jeff or Karen.
It will be easier to do my job without them worrying
, she decided.

“We'll ditch the limo in a minute,” she said. “Get ready to exit when I tell you.”

She pulled onto a small side street that circled back onto MLK Boulevard. She was sure the tailing car wouldn't risk following, but the monitor she knew they had planted would keep them on track. Just as expected, the car drove slowly past the side street and continued down MLK Boulevard.

“We'll pick them up when they reenter the main street,” the driver said to his control center. “There is not enough room for us on the side street without them seeing . . .”

“Watch for a switch,” Lively said, interrupting the dispatcher.

“We saw a brown Caprice parked in the alley,” the other agent said to Lively. “We'll check every car that exits.”

Amelia told Jeff, “Get ready. When I slow to almost a stop, you and Karen jump out and head toward the garbage truck. Get in the back.”

“A garbage truck!” Karen exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “Yuck.”

“It's a lot better than a bullet in the head,” Amelia said in response. “Garbage smells will wash off. Get ready . . .”

Jeff reached forward and opened the door. As Amelia slowed the car almost to a walk, he grabbed Karen and stepped out running. Karen stumbled, but Jeff caught her and kept her upright. They bolted toward the garbage truck as the tail section was opening. Jeff pulled Karen into the trash with him as the tail closed again.