The Illuminati (57 page)

“It is Mr. Franklin, sir,” the guard who kept constant watch over his room said fearfully. “He says he needs to talk to you.”

“Tell him no!” Razzak screamed. “I cannot help him. I will not help him!” With that, Razzak slammed the phone down. His piercing black eyes sunk back in their sockets. They swept from side to side in a constant search for something, anything that would help relieve the madness that welled up inside. The guard heard him scream as he pressed his hands to his eyes. He was ranting, “Help me, Master. Please!”

Jason Franklin could hear Razzak's wailing over the phone even through the door to the guard's room and across the phone line. He heard the guard say, “I'm sorry, Mr. Franklin. The Leader is unable to talk with you right now.”

As Franklin dropped the phone to the floor, the pain was so intense that he gasped. He collapsed on the bed, where he sat for several minutes, trying to get some strength back. Then he reached into the side table drawer beside his bed and took out the small automatic he always kept close by. He ratcheted a cartridge into the chamber and pressed the gun to his temple.

The housekeeper would find him when she arrived later that morning. Jason Franklin realized the eternal error he had made long before that. As he passed through the long dark corridor that met him the instant after he pulled the trigger, the demons were swirling around him. “Another one of us,” they screeched as they raked him with their claws.

Franklin screamed as the pain hit him.
But I'm dead
, he thought.
You can't feel anything when you're dead
.

At the new CRC headquarters in Dentville, Mississippi, the plans to launch a propaganda assault on the Society were going well. The third issue of
Truth
was in circulation and the Data-Net system was in chaos.

Jeff Wells was pleased with himself. The transfer of credits from the government had virtually stopped President Alton's ability to fund the anti-Christian campaign. Many of the government agents in the field had their credit cut off and had not been paid for several weeks. They were experiencing firsthand what the Christians had experienced earlier: It is very hard to live in a cash-less society without credit. Most had already taken to robbing merchants at gunpoint to get needed supplies. As a result, the police were treating the agents like criminals, too.

The underground network for Christians, which John Elder had organized, was working so well that it was virtually impossible to locate them. When the police attempted to dispatch teams to suspected safe houses, the messages were intercepted and warnings sent to the CRC members. All the police found when they arrived were copies of the underground
Truth
.

The police departments that were particularly aggressive in pursuing Christians suddenly found their credit cut off—personally and corporately. Wells had even been able to scramble the phone lines between Washington and the rest of the country so that messages often had to be sent by couriers, who were sometimes stranded in distant parts of the country without credit. As more of the
Truth
newspapers made their way into the public's hands, the anti-Society movement picked up momentum. Often, reluctant police officers simply refused to arrest the Christians they were able to find.

Jeff was putting the finishing touches on a new program to cut off funds to the abortion centers and organ banks when suddenly Shepperd rushed into the room. “Jeff, we have an emergency!” he said. “General Gorman has learned that Razzak ordered bombs installed at the other camps. He's planning to use them to blackmail the generals. He may be crazy enough to use them. We'll need to launch Project Truth as soon as possible. Are you ready?”

“I will be in a few more days,”Wells said.

Shepperd had conceived a plan to make public all the information his men had assembled on the Society.

When the first underground newspaper had been published with facts about the society and its roots in the government, the media had tried to discredit it, but as more and more information became available, several major newspapers began to pick up the articles. Try as they might, Rutland and his secret service could not locate even one of the twenty presses now printing nearly fifty million copies of the
Truth
each week. Since financing was no problem thanks to Wells' Data-Net contacts, the paper was available nearly everywhere. Shepperd's plan required the support of a major television network. At this point, however, he didn't have one.

At Data-Net headquarters Dr. Loo was pondering what to do about Jeff Wells. Loo was a man without any real allegiance to the Society. He delighted in infuriating Cal Rutland when he reported Wells' interference in the system. To Kim Loo, the matching of wits with Jeff Wells was no more than a chess game.

I really wish I could have worked with Wells
, Loo thought to himself.
He is a genius when it comes to computers
.

Loo had been trying unsuccessfully to set traps to detect how and when Wells entered the main computer. To date, his efforts had yielded him absolutely nothing. It was as if Wells was a phantom. The system logged no use of his time. It showed no use of the telephone network. And even when Loo knew that Wells was active in the compiler, the system showed no trace of his access.

There is no sense in getting frustrated about this
, Loo told himself.
Wells is simply better than I am at what he does. He has designed a system that I thought was impossible with our present technology, and now he has created a computer program that leaves no sign that it even exists—brilliant. Together we could tap into any computer system in the world. With very little effort we could become the richest men in the world!

For the last several weeks, catching Wells had become an obsession to Dr. Loo. But he was no closer than when he started.
It is like a two-year-old child playing chess with a grand master
, Loo admitted to himself.
Wells' capabilities are so far beyond my own that he thinks in another dimension. I will never trap him
.

Suddenly Loo had another thought.
What about Dr. Eison? Would Wells be careless enough to allow his girlfriend's father to have access to the system? Yes, he probably would
, he thought as he suddenly got excited,
because Wells' single weakness is caring about others around him. He is sentimental; therefore he is vulnerable
.

Loo thought about calling Rutland, but then he decided against it. Rutland was far too emotional about Wells. He might want to take over the plan that Loo had in mind, and Loo wasn't about to allow that to happen. Once he had a solid lead on Wells' whereabouts he would negotiate a reasonable fee with Rutland for the information.

Immediately Dr. Loo contacted his long-time friend in the drug business, Ku Chow Li.

“Li, this is Kim Loo,” he said as the other man answered the phone call. “I need your help.”

“I assume this is something other than a social call, Dr. Loo,” the head of the Chinese drug traffic in San Francisco replied coolly.“Things have not been going well for me since your cash-less system went into operation.”

“I understand,” Loo said amiably. “Even I have been reduced to working for the government. But I can assure you this will be very profitable to both of us. Do you have something to write with?”

“Yes, go on,” the other man said as he shifted his position so that he could write on the tablet by his desk.

“I need a tap placed on Dr. William Eison's telephone.”

“Who is Dr. Eison?” Li asked.

“He is a scientist at the Livermore laboratory.”

“It will be very difficult to tap a line at the research facility,” Li said, stating what he knew was the obvious.

“You will be very well compensated when I get the information I seek,” Loo said. “I need a record of all Dr. Eison's calls to a particular number somewhere in the south—a number he will call very seldom, so there must be no mistakes.”

“Old friend,” Li said smoothly, “you know I don't make mistakes. In my business you rarely get more than one. I will arrange what you ask. You will hear from me again when I have the information.”

As Loo hung up the phone, he was feeling more positive than he had in weeks. He knew that Dr. Eison had to be the one who warned Wells. Although he had no proof, he needed more. It would have taken a computer expert to understand Wells' logic enough to get into the system. Loo knew that Dr. Eison had that ability. He had seen more than once that Eison was his own equal; few others were even close enough to consider.

In another room in the basement of the White House, the FBI agent monitoring Dr. Loo's phone lines called Cal Rutland's office.

Rutland's secretary buzzed him to say that agent Grimes was on the phone. “Rutland here,” he said, irritated by the interruption. “What do you want?”

“Mr. Rutland, I'm on duty, monitoring the White House lines. I was instructed to call you immediately if anything unusual happened.”

Suddenly Rutland was alert. “Yes, what is it?” he said more pleasantly.

“Dr. Loo just placed a call to San Francisco where he talked with a Ku Chow Lithe made arrangements for a Dr. Eison's telephone to be tapped at a government laboratory. I thought you would want to know.”

“Yes, thank you.” Rutland beamed as he hung up.
Loo's on to something
, he thought to himself. He called the FBI headquarters. When the receptionist answered he said, “Put me through to Randall.”

Without hesitation she punched the FBI director's private intercom line. She knew better than to tell Rutland that he was in conference. Her boss might run the Bureau, but it was clear that Rutland ran him.

“I want you to put two of your best agents on someone by the name of Li in San Francisco. I believe his first name is Ku. I have the telephone number; you can get his address from the files.”

“Do you mean Ku Chow Li?” Randall asked.

“I don't know who he is,” Rutland said, showing his irritation. “Find out!”

“If it's Ku Chow Li, I know who he is,” Randall said. “Ku Chow is the head of the Chinese Mafia in Chinatown. He ran the drugs there until Data-Net shut him down.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Rutland muttered, more to himself than to Randall. “Just put a close watch on him, including phone taps. But don't let him know. This is important. Don't screw it up!”

Razzak will be pleased, Rutland thought as he hung up.
I'll hand him Wells' head on a platter
. That prospect brought a smile to his face.