The Illuminati (23 page)

As Randy was driving back into Atlanta to pick up Paula, he saw the station where he and Harriet had stopped the day before. Almost by impulse, he found himself turning off the highway and into the station.
Now why did I do that?
he asked himself. But something inside kept nudging him to stop. He had to fight off the urge to gun the car and head down the freeway again.
This is really stupid
, he told himself.
What if the police have contacted the station owner and told him to be on the lookout for me?

He sat in the minivan, struggling with his decision until he noticed the attendant staring at him. So he turned off the engine and got out of the car. As he did so, the attendant ducked back inside and yelled, “Hey, boss, that guy's here again!”

Randy's first impulse was to jump back in his car and take off, but again something inside told him to wait.

The station owner came out, wiping his hands. “I thought you'd be back,” he said in a growl that Randy immediately took for an accusation.

“Say, I'm sorry about the other day,” Randy offered apologetically. “I hope I didn't get you into any trouble.”

“Trouble?” the burly owner replied. “The only trouble was that stupid system. It finally cleared your card after you left. I guess you want your wife's rings back. I'll go get 'em.” He disappeared into an office but reappeared within a couple of minutes. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the rings—a little greasy, but none the worse for wear.

As Randy took the rings, he was still trying to comprehend what the station owner had said.“My card cleared?” Randy asked.

“Yep, a few hours after you left.”

Now he really was confused.
How did the card clear?
he wondered. He had been sure that someone had ordered his account frozen. “Can I still use it?” Randy asked, his heart pounding.

“Sure you can,” the owner replied, “if you have money in your account.”

Randy hurriedly pocketed the rings and asked the owner to process the card again.

“What'll it be this time?” the owner asked.

“One of everything,” Randy replied. “Do you have any gas cans?”

“Yeah, I've got some five-gallon cans in the back. Why?”

“I'll take five of them,” Randy replied, trying to restrain his sense of urgency. He wasn't sure how long his account would be active again. “Fill them up with unleaded.”

“You think the Arabs are going to cut off the oil again?” the attendant inquired in a sarcastic tone.

“No, I just need the gas for some friends,” Randy replied.

He set about collecting all the foodstuffs the service station offered, including several unopened boxes of candy bars.
Not real nutritional
, he thought,
but edible
.When he had the minivan loaded as far as he dared without looking like a rolling warehouse, he asked, “How much do I owe you?”

“Three hundred thirty-three dollars,” the wide-eyed attendant replied. “You gonna eat all that stuff, mister?” he asked in amazement.

“Not by myself,” Randy replied. “I have some friends who will help, I hope.”

The purchase cleared without further difficulty. Randy would have bought more, but he knew that the minivan loaded with foodstuffs might attract too much attention. He wasn't sure if the police were looking for his van yet.
That's a chance I'll just have to take
, he told himself. He thanked the station owner again, waved to the young attendant, and headed out toward Atlanta and Brent Olford's home.

In Washington, D.C., Russell Siever had just hung up the phone after talking with Dr. Rhinehart. He was enraged as he rung Jeff Wells' office.

Jeff's secretary, Linda, answered the call. “Data-Net director's office.”

“I need to speak with Wells!” Siever demanded.

Linda recognized his voice immediately. “I'm sorry, Mr. Siever, he's not in his office right now.”

“Well, where is he?” Siever demanded. “I need to talk with him right now!”

“I don't know, sir. He left several hours ago without leaving a forwarding number.” She had thought that strange, since Jeff always told her where he would be, but with the chaos surrounding the president's assassination, she hadn't thought to ask him. Even more strange was the fact that he took his laptop with him. He had ordered the laptop with a direct satellite hookup when he had gone to Europe to work with the World Bank, but since then he had worked almost exclusively in his office.

Siever slammed the receiver down hard. Rhinehart had told him the access codes to Data-Net had been changed from Wells' central control terminal. Also, the computer patch that the idiot Rhinehart had put in to track the Christians had been removed, so he knew Wells had control of the system. But the screening program had not been reinstated. He had no way of tracking the Christians. He was furious.

Is Wells trying to sabotage the system, or is he really trying to fix it?
he wondered. There was no way to know until he talked with Wells. But he had a nagging feeling that Jeff Wells was no longer a team player. He dreaded the call he had to make to Franklin.

Kathy Alton sat silently as the two men discussed her future administration's policies.

“The riots continue to grow across the nation,” the slightly built man next to Jason Franklin said without emotion. “There will be no difficulty in declaring martial law. With the Congress in suspension, you will be in total control of the country for at least two months. That will be enough time. What about Data-Net, Franklin?”

Jason Franklin was a man who had had presidents at his beck and call but, in the presence of this man, he felt weak and helpless. The power he sensed in Amir Razzak was overwhelming. It was as if he channeled the energies of the entire world where he wanted them to go. He had twice seen demonstrations of his power he could scarcely believe. One concentrated stare from Razzak could break the strongest man's will. He had no desire to test the man's dark powers.

He himself had been at death's door when Razzak had found him. Franklin recalled the meeting vividly. It was then he had become a true believer. Even after a lifetime of dedication to the Society, he had never really believed in the chosen one—the Leader. To him, the Society had been a means to an end—money and power, both of which he had possessed abundantly. But when cancer struck, neither his money nor his influence could help.

The pain in his stomach had become so acute that no amount of drugs could ease it, even for a short time. His body, once robust, had wasted away to a mere skeleton of ninety pounds. He had become so weak he could scarcely raise his head and had to be fed through a tube in his stomach. His physicians had diagnosed his condition as terminal, and no further treatment would help.

Then one night his old friend, Rabbi Flom, a member of the Society's inner council for thirty years, brought a man by to see him. Rabbi Flom's ties to the Israeli government had been invaluable in securing weapons contracts for some of Franklin's industries. In return, Franklin had covertly donated or raised more than ten billion dollars for Israel.

Jason Franklin, multibillionaire, had been close to death that evening when Rabbi Flom said, “Jason,my old friend, I have brought someone to help you.”

Franklin could not raise his head enough to see who was there, but he answered, “Unless it is God Himself, Rabbi, I don't think he can help me.”

“Perhaps it is God,” the withered man replied. “At least the god we have awaited so long.”

Franklin's body was wracked with pain from the effort of talking. “Fairy tales are for the young, Rabbi. Leave me to die in peace.”

“Are you really in peace?” asked the man he hadn't seen yet. “Would you rather die than believe?”

Something in the voice startled Franklin. It penetrated his mind. He knew he had not heard the words; he had felt them!

“I am the one you have heard about from your brothers. The Society was formed for me. It is my time.”

In the shadows of his bedroom, Franklin could not see the man standing right in front of him but he could sense his presence clearly. It was as if the force extended from the man through Franklin.

“Do you want to be healed?” the voice asked. Franklin wasn't sure if the words were audible or coming from within his mind. “Are you willing to serve?”

Franklin spoke in a rasping cough, “I am willing. If you will heal me, I will serve you.”

The stranger then spoke audibly, “Leave him!”

A moaning sound filled the room, and a chill that penetrated to Jason Franklin's bones swept over him. But suddenly he felt renewed. He was stronger. “I can move!” he shouted as he sat up in bed.

“Your strength will return in a few days,” the stranger told him. “You will live. But don't ever forget that you owe me your allegiance.”

“I won't forget, my lord,” Franklin swore. From that day on, his life had been dedicated to the tasks assigned him by Razzak. He had been made a key part of a plan so immense that he could scarcely believe it possible. But the events of the last three years had convinced him that it was possible. The world was theirs for the taking. And his benefactor would rule it all one day.

Now he was fearful of facing the wrath of this man who seemingly held the power over life and death, health and illness.

Franklin said nervously, “We have a problem with the network. Dr. Rhinehart made some changes to the system that didn't work. I have instructed Siever to have Wells make the corrections.”

“And?” The tone of voice was clearly malevolent.

“The system has been restored and is fully operational.”

“What about the ability to monitor the Christians?”

“I'm not sure at this point, sir,” Franklin said contritely. “We have not been able to contact Wells.”

“I want that network in place!” the small dark man roared in anger. “I want those Christians found and imprisoned. Do you hear me?”

Franklin was taken back by the outburst. It was the first time he had seen Razzak lose his self-control, and he was as frightened as he had ever been before in his life. Even when facing death, he had not felt the dread that came over him now.

“Make no mistake, Franklin,” Razzak said as he regained his composure, “I can return you to the condition you were in when I found you. The control of these Christians is vital to our plans. Once we have those in America under my control, the others will follow. See to it immediately!”

Franklin said nothing. He felt an overwhelming dread. He had already seen evidence of powers that were beyond human understanding. Franklin was a man with no religious beliefs at all. He had always assumed the Christians were to be scapegoats for the nation's problems, but he had never understood that they played some larger role. Suddenly, in his stomach, he felt an onslaught of the intense pain that had been removed three years earlier. He gasped, and as waves of nausea swept over him, he cried out, “Help me!”

Razzak waited for what seemed like an eternity to Franklin before he commanded, “Leave him!”

As suddenly as the attack began, it ended. Franklin stumbled over to his chair where he collapsed in exhaustion.

“That was just a reminder,” the dark man said softly. “Now, where is the man, Elder?”

“He's being held in Washington under close guard, as you instructed,” Franklin gasped, still weak from the attack.

“Good, I want him kept out of sight. Be sure he has no contact with anyone. Have you located his wife?”

“No sir, she has disappeared. The violence has scattered the Christian groups across the country.”

“I want her found! And I want that program working. We must know where they are and crush them! Report back to me as soon as you have located Wells.”

Franklin sighed with relief as Razzak left the room. For all of his wealth and influence, Jason Franklin knew he was little more than a servant now. He felt his strength returning, but knew he was living on borrowed time.