The Illuminati (52 page)

Rutland carried out Razzak's orders to have Fred Lively removed as attorney general. President Alton issued the executive order and within a day Marla West had assumed the position of acting attorney general, just as Lively had several months earlier.

Even before he knew what was happening, Fred Lively found himself barred from access to the White House. “You can't do this,” Lively screamed into the phone at Rutland. “I'll go to the press.”

“If you do, you will find it is your last press conference,” Rutland said unemotionally. “Or perhaps you would like to tell the Leader how you feel.”

Lively felt the chill of death upon him. He quickly said, “No, I'll do what you say. I'm here to help.”

Marla West was thrilled to be appointed as attorney general by President Alton. Her loyalties to Fred Lively lasted only until Rutland told her the Leader had selected her to head the purge of the Christians.

The last time anyone saw Fred Lively alive was when he left his apartment to meet with members of the NCLU. The official statement was that he had been drinking, and his car ran off the road. The state police found Lively, still in his car in the Potomac River, just above the dam. It was almost exactly where the “terrorists'” car had been recovered.

The scene in Atlanta was typical of hundreds of other cities throughout the country. Armed secret service agents loyal to the administration were kicking in the doors of homes of anyone suspected of harboring terrorists. Under the guise of martial law, the agents were given complete authority to arrest and detain anyone. America had become a police state. As more and more people were arrested on the vaguest of suspicions, there were fewer places for the Christians to hide. For the Jews, there were none.

In an abandoned bank building on the outskirts of Atlanta, John Elder was in a meeting with several of the CRC leaders. Data-Net had almost made banks obsolete, since the system handled all the transactions and arranged all credit.

Elder was explaining the plan to organize safe houses all across the country and then begin an underground newspaper to publish and distribute information about the Society. Shepperd had been tremendously helpful in securing more recruits from inside Washington, and they were beginning to piece together conclusive proof of the Society's existence and its planned takeover of America.

Jeff Wells was back at the farmhouse working diligently to keep the funds flowing for Elder's groups.

He's the old Jeff
, Karen thought.

She hadn't realized how depressed he had been over the misuse of his talents. Now that he had a goal again he was enthusiastic and totally absorbed.

Jeff had discovered the authorization codes for President Alton's transportation of the detainees to the various camps. With one stroke of his keyboard, he fouled up the codes so that no movement would be possible for several days. The trains that were needed in Atlanta were diverted to central Arkansas; those scheduled for Chicago were sent to New Hampshire, and so on. Jeff couldn't help but chuckle to himself when he thought of Rutland's reaction to this mess. And he would not be on Dr. Loo's most favorite person list either.

It made Karen feel good to see how excited Jeff was. Before she went back to work on the underground newspaper, she bent over and kissed the back of his neck. Jeff stopped typing and took her hand. He kissed the palm of her hand gently. “The world will be a better place for our children,” he promised her.

“I hope you're right,” Karen replied, choking back her tears.
It all seems pretty pathetic right now
, she thought.
A handful of people against the government. Any mistake could get us all captured
.

On the first floor of the abandoned bank building, Bill Frost heard a commotion outside and glanced out through the dusty blinds into the street. What he saw chilled his heart. In the street, police in full combat gear were piling out of five cars. Someone had tipped the police about their meeting.

“The police are outside!” Frost shouted to the group. “We've got to go. Now!”

Shepperd acted instinctively, gathering the papers spread out on the well-worn conference table. He knew the documents must not fall into the hands of the police. They contained the details for developing the safe houses. Shepperd, accustomed to thinking about contingencies, had directed Elder to draft his notes on rice paper, much as the CIA and KBG did back in the twentieth century. He took out his butane lighter and struck the igniter. Once the flame was strong, he touched it to the rice paper. The results were immediate and spectacular: the paper literally evaporated into smoke.

“How many policemen are there?” Shepperd shouted to Frost as the last of the documents were incinerated.

“About thirty!” Frost shouted back frantically.
Dear God
, he prayed,
don't let us have come this far just to lose it all now. Help us
.

“They're taking no chances,” Shepperd said to Elder as they exited the room. “Let's hope they don't know you're here.” Once in the hallway, Shepperd said calmly to the men with him, “Above all else we've got to keep John from the police. We won't ever have the chance to rescue him again if they get him.”

“Don't worry about me,” Elder said just as calmly. “Try to get away yourselves.”

“Very noble, Pastor,” Bill Frost answered, trying to get his heart rate a little more under control.“But you really are the key to our organization. You have to get away.”

“You can't sacrifice . . .” Elder was saying when Shepperd cut him short.

“Listen, we're just wasting time talking. I intend to get us all out. Follow me!” Shepperd ordered. He knew the police would cover the front and back exits before they entered the building. He also knew they would use the stairs. As far as anyone knew, the elevators were not working. Actually, only one elevator was working. Shepperd had hot wired it by tapping into the main power system. He stepped into the elevator, followed by the others. As soon as the doors closed, he jerked the control box open and snipped the indicator wire with a small pair of pliers from his pocket.

“Now they won't see the elevator moving,” he told his small group of conspirators. He waited almost five minutes before doing anything. No one in the group said anything during the interminable wait. They all knew that their safety rested with Shepperd, and they trusted his judgment.

Only John Elder spoke. “I suggest we use the time we have to pray,” Elder said with a calm that reassured the group. Then he led them in a prayer, asking that God would see fit to give them mercy. They could hear the crashing sounds below their level as the police stormed the building, kicking in doors to offices on the lower floors. Shepperd punched the down button and prayed the old elevator would not be too noisy as it descended. He stopped it at the front entrance level.

“But this is where the police cars are!” Frost exclaimed.

“Exactly,” Shepperd replied. “We need transportation, don't we?” The elevator stopped and Shepperd stepped out. He pulled his gun from its holster and waved it as a sign for the group to go before him. With a puzzled look, they obeyed.

As Shepperd exited the building, a startled young policeman stared at him. Shepperd had his FBI badge out and flashed it at the policeman.

“Load these prisoners in the van,” he commanded.

“What . . .” the young policeman stammered.

“Just load them in the van, will you?” Shepperd commanded again in his most authoritative tone. “There are more suspects around in back.”

The confused policeman opened the rear of the van and the group stepped inside.

“Thanks,” Shepperd said. “There will be more coming, so stand by.” With that he stepped into the driver's seat of the van.

“Wait a minute,” the officer said, in total confusion. “Who are you?”

“Shepperd, FBI. I'm a part of the antiterrorist squad. We called in the report. Thanks for your help.”

“You're welcome . . .” the young man stuttered as he tried to decide what to do.

Shepperd started the van and shifted into gear. He was gone in a second, leaving the policeman to sort it out.

By the time the assault teams came out of the empty building, Shepperd and the others had changed to the cars they had left several blocks away. Milling around nearby was a group of tough-looking youths, eyeing the parked cars. Shepperd walked over and handed the keys to one of the young men and said, “Take the van; it's yours. No strings attached.” He chuckled as the confused group of would-be car thieves piled into the van and roared off in the opposite direction. “That should keep the police busy for a while,” he said as he watched the van disappear.

Word was filtering back to Rutland from across the country that the level of public support the Alton administration had enjoyed in the past was rapidly declining. Citizens were having their doors smashed in by government agents who often used excessive force—all on the basis of frivolous accusations by their neighbors. The net result was that less than 5 percent of the assaults yielded any trace of the missing Christians or Jews. Disgruntled and unemployed citizens were using the system to wreak havoc on anyone who was better off than they were.

Rutland secretly asked his contact at Insta-pol to take a public opinion sample directed at the recent crackdowns. The results were alarming. The original support level of almost 80 percent had eroded down to less than 50 percent.

Now this latest thing with Elder in Atlanta
, he thought silently. When word that the police had let Elder slip though their fingers reached Razzak, he had gone crazy. He ranted for nearly ten minutes about having the officers eliminated. He even went so far as to suggest a nuclear strike on Atlanta to eliminate Elder. Rutland wondered if the man he had revered and vowed to serve with his life was becoming mentally unstable.
Was this the affliction that defeated Adolf Hitler?
he wondered. Both men had made brilliant moves in the early stages, only to destroy their successes by irrational actions later.