Mark of the Beast (23 page)

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Authors: Adolphus A. Anekwe

BOOK: Mark of the Beast
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Dr. Nsi, however, pleaded innocent to all charges, alleging that the phone conversations, the videos, and all the rest were doctored and engineered by the crooked federal authorities that were all in support of the HLA B66.

Moheri was also found guilty of the murder of Tina Coffee. He was charged with unlawful manufacturing and distribution of a lethal substance, intimidation, and concealment of a dangerous material. He was sentenced to life imprisonment without parole.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge, after handing the piece of paper back to the bailiff.

“Yes, your honor,” responded the lead juror.

“What is your verdict?” asked the judge.

There was absolute silence in the courtroom.

“On the count of murder in the first degree, we, the jury, find the defendant … guilty.”

“On the count of conspiracy to commit murder, we, the jury, find the defendant … guilty.”

“On the count of aiding and abetting in the murder of Nurse Fisher, we, the jury, find the defendant … guilty.”

Five other related charges against Dr. Nsi were presented, and he was found guilty on all counts. Dr. Nsi was sentenced to death by lethal injection and was immediately placed on death row.

The entire trial of Dr. Nsi and his final conviction became a rallying cry around the nation for universal testing.

Many on national television who had previously been sympathetic to Dr. Nsi's pronouncement that HLA B66 was nothing but “hocus-pocus” began reassessing their views.

Dickerson's theory, on the connection between B66 and 666, became the cornerstone of many discussions on television. The United States Senate and Congress had steadfastly refused to debate mandatory testing of all Americans. On the NBC Sunday news show,
Meet the Press,
the major topic was about Dr. Nsi's and Dr. Moheri's HLA-positive tests.

Senate Majority Leader Samantha Rodgers, a Democrat from North Carolina, opened the argument. “Let's look at this for one second. The essence of mandatory testing is to be able to do something with those that test positive. What do you propose we do with the HLA B66-positive Americans?”

“Senator Burns, what do you think?” The moderator smiled at Mr. Burns.

Senator Wendell Burns, a Republican from Utah, the ranking Republican on the Homeland Security Committee, leaned forward, smiled, and responded, “Look, it does at least gives us a road map to where we are going with this.”

Senator Burns, tapping his right index finger on the table to elaborate every word, continued, “What I am trying to say is this … once these folks are identified, we can monitor them closely for any signs of deviant behavior. Just as we have been successful at monitoring terror suspects, we can apply the same mechanism here. You know the old saying, an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure.”

“How would you feel,” retorted Senator Rodgers, with an angry look on her face, “if your son, daughter, brother, or sister tested HLA B66 positive, and the government of the United States tagged him or her like a dog to be followed in case he or she deviates, as my honorable friend suggested?”

Sensing her anger, Burns quickly intervened, “I am not advocating that we tag people like dogs. We have mechanisms in place, which I am not at liberty to elaborate here, whereby we can follow individuals and monitor their behaviors without obstructing their daily lives.”

“What then should we do with the rest of the world?” asked Senator Rodgers with a faint collegial smile on her face. “Or are we so arrogant to think that only Americans are HLA B66 positive?”

“The way I see it, let's take care of America first,” Senator Burns said, again pointing with his right index finger, “and let the other governments borrow whatever technology they want and test their citizens, and implement whatever laws they see fit.”

“Some of your Senate colleagues are advocating an asylum-like city,” interrupted the moderator, searching for words, “to house all HLA B66 Americans, sort of like an open prison. What do you think of that, Senator Burns?”

“I really don't believe we need to go that far,” Senator Burns said, “because that in itself would be cruel and unnecessary punishment for somebody who has committed no crime yet.”

“Senator Rodgers?” the moderator asked, looking for a rebuttal.

Clasping her hands in a plea-like fashion, Senator Rodgers said, “That goes to the core of what I am trying to illustrate. Here we are in the twenty-first century, and we are back to the days of the Spanish Inquisition of 1478 all over again, except this time science has become the judge and jury.”

With the non-ending debate raging on the airwaves, President Steve McClellan, a Republican from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, called an emergency meeting of the National Security Advisors, the Central Intelligence Agency director, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the cabinet heads, to a weekend meeting at Camp David.

Leaked reports stated that the consensus among the directors was for mandatory national testing, but given the legal challenges posed by such a move, and the fact the United States Supreme Court, by a five-to-four margin, clearly indicated their opposition to any national testing, the president, who personally opposed national testing, and his crisis cabinet were left wondering what to do.

A proposal by a national security advisor was finally agreed upon. It called for the creation of a national investigative clearing-house agency to be headed by Detectives Pellagrini and Pinkett. Their task was to investigate all new bizarre violent crimes and other unnatural crimes, at their discretion. A legal cover for the detectives would involve labeling their mission as part of an ongoing criminal investigation. The HLA B66 results would be kept secret until all the evidence was collected and the suspects charged. For one thing, they envisioned that at least would accelerate the trial process and save the nation millions of dollars in lengthy court proceedings.

The project, code-named the “3 P's,” for Pellagrini-Pinkett Project, was coined in recognition of the detectives' work so far. All the police departments in the nation were alerted and made aware of the new agency and the need for unfettered collaboration.

The new agency would work in collaboration with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, while at the same time maintaining its independence.

 

PART

X

 

1

W
ITHIN DAYS OF THE
creation of the 3 P's, calls were pouring in from all across the nation.

“We have a new case in Florida,” announced an excited Pellagrini, looking at the new office computer monitor.

“What is it?” Pinkett asked, peeking at her own new nineteen-inch flat-screen monitor.

“Sun City, Florida—police just alerted us to a strange case,” stated Pellagrini. “A husband and wife are being held in Sun City for allegedly torturing their five adopted children.”

“What bizarre stuff did they do?” Pinkett asked, offloading a box full of personal stuff.

“Apparently they used electric shock to punish the kids.”

“That's horrible.” Pinkett paused for a moment and turned to look at Pellagrini on the computer.

“That's not all,” Pellagrini continued. “Two kids had all their toenails pulled off with pliers.”

Pinkett sat on the couch, clenching her fingers.

“A sixteen-year-old was so starved that he only weighed seventy pounds,” Pellagrini added, “and listen to this—a twelve-year-old who tried to run away had all the digits on her feet smashed with a hammer.”

Pinkett could only stare at Pellagrini in shocked revulsion.

“What is the world coming to?” Pinkett finally said.

*   *   *

Two agents were dispatched to Sun City, Florida, to collect blood samples from the suspects. The tests would be performed at an undisclosed National Institutes of Health laboratory in Bethesda, Maryland. The lab's analytical teams were under the supervision of Abramhoff and Dickerson.

“One is just coming in now,” reported Detective Pinkett, gently manipulating the computer mouse.

“From where?” asked Detective Pellagrini, peering over Pinkett's screen.

“Ann Arbor, Michigan,” both detectives read off the computer.

“Look at that … two kids, both twelve years old, riding their bicycles, disappeared in a wooded area near their home. A two-day search found the two bodies in the woods,” continued Pinkett. “Apparently one of the girl's fathers has been arrested, and he's already confessed.”

“Look!” Pellagrini pointed at the screen. “The man's daughter was beaten and stabbed twenty-two times. That's gross. She was also stabbed in both eyes and ears. The friend was also beaten and stabbed eleven times for—get this—interfering.”

“Triple six,” came out of their mouths simultaneously.

*   *   *

Several days later, a report came from the overseas wire service that the Italian government had arrested two couples who were accused of killing eight people in a satanic ritual in the outskirts of Milan. The Italian government, wishing to become one of the HLA B66 testing countries, contacted the United States government immediately. Following intergovernmental negotiations, and upon the mutual agreement of both countries, two agents from the project team were dispatched to Milan on a phlebotomy mission.

“Definitely triple sixes,” Pellagrini said.

The involvement of the Italian government posed a new dilemma for the team.

Already, Spain, France, Portugal, Mexico, Thailand, Brazil, Nigeria, and South Africa had requested to become part of the HLA B66 project. As a result of these requests, all of the State Department's recommendations for entering into the project were presented to the president and were approved.

A universal precautionary procedure would be instituted for all blood samples collected, no matter from what country they came; that would eliminate cross-contaminations or transmissions of any viral, bacterial, or parasitical diseases.

*   *   *

“Look … another triple six,” said Pinkett.

“From where?” Pellagrini asked.

“This one's from Minnesota,” Pinkett said, shaking her head. “An eighteen-year-old Native American living on a reservation first shot both parents to death, then went on a shooting rampage, killing eleven people, wounding twenty, then turned the gun on himself and blew his brains to pieces.”

“We have somebody to collect samples, yeah?” Pellagrini asked.

“Already sent,” Pinkett replied.

“Did you hear about the one from Missouri?” Pellagrini calmly asked.

“What town in Missouri?”

“A small religious town called Mountain View, Missouri,” Pellagrini said, like he had been there before.

“They must have a lot of mountains over there,” Pinkett said.

“I don't think so. There's nothing there but flat land.”

“So why did they name a town on the plains Mountain View?” asked a curious Pinkett.

“Beats the heck out of me,” answered Pellagrini, scratching his forehead.

“Heck?” asked Pinkett, with a strange look on her face.

“Oh, sometimes I use that a lot to replace the actual curse words, especially while I'm speaking in front of a lady.” Pellagrini smiled.

“Gee, thanks.” Pinkett blushed.

“Anyway, this killer bound, tortured, and murdered at least ten women over a period of about twenty years.”

“Why did it take twenty years to apprehend him?” asked Pinkett, opening the medium-sized refrigerator at the east corner of the hastily arranged office to retrieve a bottle of water.

“Because he was never a suspect,” explained Pellagrini, dusting off the love seat. “He was a regular church attendee, community leader, and a white-collar employee.”

“One of those ‘no-way-not-him' type persons,” volunteered Pinkett while she sipped at the bottled water.

“That's an intelligent analogy,” congratulated Pellagrini, who then picked up the morning paper on the end table.

“Intelligent? You are just scratching the surface of my intellect.”

“I see, I see, says the blind man, to the deaf wife, while the mute child agrees,” Pellagrini replied.

“You're full of jokes.”

“That's nothing … you haven't seen the depths of my jokes.”

“Okay, tell me one good joke,” requested Pinkett, as she sat on the stool facing Pellagrini.

“Well, how do you like your jokes, clean or dirty?” asked Pellagrini, putting the newspaper down.

“I don't know you that well, so do a clean one.” Pinkett smiled.

“Okay, this one is very clean by New York standards,” stated Pellagrini, balancing himself in the middle of the love seat.

“Two Reverend Sisters were being chased by a rapist as they were returning home along a desolate road to the convent. Reaching the fork in the road, they decided to split; in that case, if the rapist chased after one of them, the other one at least would make it safely to the convent and call for help. Sister Jenny arrived first at the convent without incident and a few minutes later, Sister York arrived panting, dress all rumpled at the bottom.

“‘What happened?' asked Sister Jenny. “‘Oh, he came after me all right,' answered Sister York, catching her breath.

“‘And what happened?' urged Sister Jenny hastily.

“‘I ran faster; he ran faster. Finally I stopped, and he stopped. I pulled up my dress; he pulled down his pants.'

“With both hands over her mouth, Sister Jenny uttered, ‘Oh no, what … what…'

“With ease and calm, Sister York answered, ‘A nun with her dress pulled up runs a lot faster than a man with his pants down.'”

Pointing at Pellagrini in a friendly gesture, Pinkett laughed for a while, then said, “That was good … that was good, that definitely came from New York.”

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