Cabal

by Mark Goodwin

  “Lucky for us, we’ve got built-in trackers, recorders, and cameras.” Josh took out his phone, hoping the comment would serve as a veiled warning never to speak about any of this on the phone.

  “Yeah, lucky us.” Rev laughed. “But I’m afraid, despite our best efforts, this global totalitarian state is unavoidable. It’s part of God’s plan. Did you get a chance to start your daily Bible reading?”

  “I did, actually,” Josh answered.

  “Oh!” Rev seemed pleasantly surprised.

  “I’ve got a few questions for you. Revelation 17 talks about seven mountains on which the harlot sits. I read a commentary online which says that those are the seven hills of Rome, something about the Catholic Church being in charge of the one-world religion.”

  “Well, Pope Francis did say that you don’t have to believe in God to go to heaven. He said all you have to do is to obey your conscience. But, I’ll let you in on a little secret. My conscience will give me a pass on all kinds of stuff the Bible says is wrong. Trust me when I tell you, I need the blood of Jesus to make me right before God. In fact, the Bible says in the book of Jeremiah, that the heart is deceitfully wicked, so I guess that’s true of us all. And the pope’s statement directly contradicts multiple verses that say belief in Jesus is a fundamental requirement for salvation.

  “The pope would make a good candidate for the false prophet, at least in my book. But since the tsunami of child sex abuse scandals against the Catholic Church, people have been leaving in droves. I think the Catholic Church is becoming less relevant.

  “Besides, Catholics are the staunchest defenders of human life when it comes to abortion. At most of the pro-life demonstrations I’ve attended, protestants and evangelicals were a shamefully small segment of the participants. Considering that the enemy’s mission statement is to kill, steal, and destroy, I believe the pope would have to change his stance on abortion to be a serious contender for the title of false prophet.

  “On the flip side, the masses are enamored by anyone who can give them a good show and a motivational speech to get them through the week, especially if they don’t have to worry about being confronted by the topic of sin.”

  Josh interjected, “Like Carl Jacobs.”

  “And guess what other city has seven hills.”

  Josh tried to remember where Jacobs’ church was located. “San Francisco?”

  “Bingo,” said Rev.

  Poochy added, “Technically, I think it’s like forty-eight hills, but only seven were named when the city was originally founded. I’m sure if you lowered the elevation requirements, you’d find more than seven hills in Rome also.”

  Feeling satisfied with that answer, Josh said, “Also, I read all of those Scriptures you mentioned yesterday and couldn’t find anything that sounds like a rapture. In Matthew 24 Jesus mentions something about two people being in a field, one taken and the other left behind. But, that’s mentioned after the dissertation about tribulation, almost as an afterthought.”

  Rev answered, “Paul writes about the end times in 1 Thessalonians. He speaks of the resurrection saying that the dead in Christ will be raised first, then those of us who are alive will be caught up to meet the Lord in the air.”

  “Does it say when?”

  “No. Unfortunately, not. But, in the following chapter, Paul writes that we are not appointed unto wrath. In fact, that’s the only thing besides the letters to the churches in Revelation and the character of God that gives me any hope that we won’t be here for the entire show.”

  “By wrath, you’re interpreting it to mean the Great Tribulation. But it doesn’t actually say that we’ll be evacuated.” Josh’s brows showed the heaviness on his mind as he considered the horrors the earth was about to endure.

  “No, but speaking of the end times, Jesus says in Matthew 24 that the last days will be like the days of Noah. Then, in Luke 17 he compares it with the days of Lot.”

  “Okay, what does that have to do with anything?”

  “In both of those cases, Lot and Noah were spared from the judgment which God rained down to punish the ungodly. Peter actually uses those examples in the chapter where he writes the Lord knows how to deliver the godly out of temptations and to reserve the unjust under punishment for the day of judgment.

  “Then, in Revelation 3, Jesus tells the Church in Philadelphia, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth. To me, that sounds like a promise to spare the faithful church from the Great Tribulation and God’s Wrath also.

  “But times could get pretty dicey before anything we might refer to as God’s Wrath actually takes place.”

  Josh thought about it. “If nothing else, I suppose it will make a good last call for people who still haven’t decided which side they want to be on.”

  Rev put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “That could be the very reason God is holding off on pulling us out of here.”

  Josh wished he could confide in Rev about the struggle he was going through with Micah. “I’m glad He waited for me. I had a few things in my life that needed addressing. Now that I see things coming to a head, I’m taking care of all that.”

  Ethan walked up to stand beside Josh. “Rev tells me that you work for Vital Statistics. Just out of curiosity, would you be able to set a person up with an alternate birth certificate?”

  He nodded. “I just need an address.”

  Ethan smiled at Rev. “I’m glad this guy showed up when he did.”

  CHAPTER 18

  And such as do wickedly against the covenant shall he corrupt by flatteries: but the people that do know their God shall be strong, and do exploits.

  Daniel 11:32

  Using the computer at the office, Josh checked the balance of his savings account on Friday after lunch. “The money from the Florida house is in the bank!” He shut down the computer and left his desk. Josh hurried out of the office waving at the receptionist when he left. “Goodbye, Julia.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Carter,” she said.

  Josh’s first stop was the rental mailbox. “It’s here!” He opened the envelope with excitement and pulled out Peter Gray’s new driver’s license. From there, Josh drove straight to the nearest bank branch and went inside.

  The teller asked, “How can I help you?”

  “Can I withdraw paper currency?”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry. All cash is being sent to the Federal Reserve to be destroyed.”

  “Okay then. I’d like nine cashier’s checks made out for one thousand global marks each.” He handed his ID and account number to the teller.

  “Alright.” She entered some information into her computer. “Mr. Stone, may I ask what institution you’ll be taking this deposit to?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry?” She smiled nervously.

  “No. You may not ask. I mean, you can ask, but I’m not going to tell you.”

  Her smile faded. “The system won’t let me process the transaction without an answer in the field.”

  Josh frowned. “Then type in other.”

  The girl appeared to take his advice. Soon, the printer behind her began spitting out thin strips of paper. She turned to retrieve them and handed the checks to Josh. “Have a nice day.”

  “You, too.” Josh examined the financial instruments which already held a holographic image of the Global Union Bank’s logo. The insignia was the initials GUB encircled by a red dragon eating its own tail. He growled to see the equity he and Stephanie had worked so hard for reduced to 9,000 marks. “This has the purchasing power of about forty-five thousand bucks. What a rip off!”

  He felt angry as he drove toward Lexington, hoping that he’d be able to find a coin dealer who would accept the cashier’s checks. “I suppose I should be grateful that I didn’t lose everything.”

  The first shop on his list was 40 minutes away from the office. Josh made a stop for gas just outside of Lexington. At 1 mark per gallon
, filling up the tank would have made a severe cut in his meager savings, but thankfully, he still had the company card from the FBI. Fewer and fewer people were able to afford what amounted to $20 per gallon in pre-conversion prices, so filling stations that had managed to remain in business held fuel in their pumps. He did the math in his head as he watched the numbers on the pump climb higher and higher. “I wonder if this is what the UN had in mind for their Agenda 2030 goal of economic equality. I suppose if we’re all poor as dirt, they’ve successfully leveled the playing field. Plus, if it costs $400 to fill up the tank, people will be begging to move to smart cities so they can use the public transit systems.”

  Josh returned to his truck and continued to the coin shop. He walked inside of the narrow store located in an older strip mall. The carpet was faded and gray. The walls were unevenly off-white, as if yellowed from age. “I guess the rent is cheaper here.” He looked at the sparsely stocked display case. The glass was thin and the edges were covered with chrome strips that were secured to the glass with transparent packing tape in places.

  A man who looked as run down as the shop came in from a back office. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for the closest thing you have to bullion. I’m not interested in numismatics.”

  The man took out a tube of one-ounce gold Canadian Maple Leaves. “These are in good condition. They’re 24-carat so most of them have little scratches or dents. You have to hold coins like these carefully. Just knocking them against one another in a tube can put a mark on them.”

  “Yeah, I’m not looking for graded coins. I don’t mind a few nicks here and there.” Josh examined the first coin given to him. It wasn’t bad. “How much?”

  “803 marks.”

  “Wow, that’s high! Spot is only 642.”

  “Spot is irrelevant except as a base to have the premium applied to it. Government mints aren’t selling gold at all.”

  “I checked online, and premiums are running about 10% over for products like these.”

  The man took the coin back from Josh. “Then buy online. As you can see, I’m having no trouble whatsoever unloading my inventory at 25% over spot. I should point out the fact that cash transactions have no formal paperwork that needs to be filed.

  “A certain…discerning customer, shall we say, has an appreciation for a commodity which will soon be banned. Once the outrage over assault weapons and currency exchange rates dies down, trust me, gold will be banned. It’s outside of the GU’s control. And in case you haven’t noticed, this government seems like they’re gonna be big on control.”

  Josh knew better than anyone the truth of that statement. “How many do you have?”

  “How much money are you carrying?”

  Josh took out the cashier’s checks and spread them on the table.

  The man emptied the tube. “Six. I also have two Chinese Pandas and about three ounces in British sovereigns.”

  “That should leave me about 167 marks.” Josh tallied up the numbers on his phone calculator.

  “The sovereigns are fractional.” The man counted out twelve of the coins featuring St. George on horseback slaying a dragon. “They typically have a higher premium.”

  Josh quickly pulled up the gold content of the sovereigns. “Point two-three ounces. Not quite a full quarter ounce of gold in each coin. I should think that would suffice for the increased premium, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t have cash to give you change.” The man’s mouth set in a hard line.

  Josh examined the display case. “Are those bags of junk silver?”

  “Pre-65 US dimes, quarters, and half-dollars, yes. But at 14 marks an ounce, I’m not sure we can still classify them as junk.”

  “Silver was at 11 marks when I checked on the way in.”

  One corner of the man’s mouth turned up. “Including the premium, of course.”

  “Okay, I’ll take twelve ounces of those to round it up.”

  “Very well.” The man reached inside the display case and took out one of the bags of silver and counted out the coins for Josh.

  Josh stowed his purchase which weighed less than a pound and a half, in his front pocket. He hurried back to the truck and opened yet another prepaid phone. He took out the listing sheet of the property he’d found in Park City, Kentucky and dialed the number. “Hi, I was calling about the property you had for sale on Zillow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would I be able to see it today?”

  “I reckon, but you can’t hardly get no loans right now. We had a contract on it, but the buyer couldn’t close. All this business with the currency conversions and whatnot, I don’t know when it’ll all get worked out. I told ‘em they could still buy it if I still had it once everything gets straightened out, but I had to put it back on the market. It was my mama’s place. She passed last year, and I’ve been carrying it ever since.”

  “I’d be making a cash offer.”

  “All right. I guess I could be there in a half-hour.”

  “I’m coming from Lexington. It will take me about two hours.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll see you then. What did you say your name was?”

  Josh quickly tried to recall his latest alias. “Peter Gray.”

  “Alright, Peter. Folks around here call me Hoot. We’ll see you when you get here.”

  ***

  Two hours later, Josh pulled into the driveway of an old farmhouse built in 1849. The home was a traditional wood-framed house with wood siding, which was painted white. The paint was old and chipped in places but not peeling off. The foundation was stacked stone. The roof was metal and looked newer than the paint. The yard surrounding the house was overgrown with weeds, but a stone walkway provided a path to access the dwelling without the threat of stepping on a snake. An old F-150 sat in the drive ahead of Josh’s truck.

  A man walked out onto the porch which was just large enough for a swing. He had a round potbelly and wore overalls, which looked brand new. “Come on in,” he said with a friendly voice.

  “You must be Hoot.” Josh walked up the path and offered his hand. “Peter Gray, nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure.” Hoot shook his hand. “My daddy got this place back in the ‘50s. He built an addition on the back side with a bathroom. He put a big bedroom back there for Mama and him. He also plumbed the old washroom with a sink, tub, and toilet. But unfortunately, both bathrooms are on the ground floor.”

  Hoot led him through the house, pointing out small closets in all the bedrooms and low ceilings on the second floor. The dining room was certainly the grandest room in the house and the original fireplaces throughout the home showed the craftsmanship of a bygone era.

  “It’s a little more than fifteen acres, but it backs up to the National Park, so you won’t never have to worry about somebody building behind you. I reckon you can go walk around on the park property, but you wouldn’t want them to catch you huntin’ back there.”

  “The property has got a small barn back yonder. A chicken coop, too, but they’re both in rough condition. Mama didn’t keep no animals since Daddy passed back in ‘98. Probably ain’t been no renovation to speak of since he was alive neither, but she kept the place clean and in good repair.”

  Josh looked at the printout. “The listing says you have a cave on the property.”

  “Yeah, we used to go in there when we was kids.” Hoot smiled as if remembering a pleasant childhood. “A little creek runs out of it so you need boots to get in there. Once you’re inside, it’s dry. The creek runs alongside what we used to call the low wall. You’ll see what I’m talking about if you ever go in there.”

  “Is that the spring where the water for the house comes from?”

  “It might come from the same source, but the spring for the house is right through them trees yonder. The cave is on back a piece.”

  “How far back does the cave go?”

  “I don’t know. I ain’t been in it since I was a boy. You can get bac
k in there a good ways. Seemed like it went on for miles when I was a young’un. We’d get back in there and start thinkin’ about our lanterns goin’ dark. Then, we’d turn tail and get on out.”

  “Do you mind if I have a look?”

  “I ain’t got no shoes for it. And I wouldn’t recommend you getting back in there with them shoes you’re wearin’. It can get right slippery in places, and you’ll be wet by the time you come out.”

  Josh motioned toward his truck. “I’ve got boots in the truck. If I get them wet, I can put my loafers back on for the trip home.”

  “Suit yourself. You best have a reliable flashlight.”

  “I do. And I’ve got my phone in case it goes out.”

  “Alright then. I’ll wait at the house for you. It’s right back through them woods. You’ll see a creek. Just follow it on up to the mouth of the cave. You have to bend to get inside, but then it opens up pretty quick.”

  Josh thanked Hoot for his patience, changed his footwear and headed off for his spelunking trip. He waded into an ankle-deep creek through a low opening in the earth, which was about five feet high. He kept his flashlight trained on the creek until the low ceiling above his head began to open up. He discovered that the floor of the creek sloped up gradually to a shelf which was fairly level. The shelf area extended back roughly twenty feet to where the roof of the cave sloped down from an angled pinnacle. At its highest, Josh guessed the roof to be roughly eleven feet high but closer to eight feet on average. The shelf space extended parallel to the creek about eighty feet.

  He wanted to explore further but didn’t want to keep Hoot waiting. “I guess if the stars start falling from heaven, this would be about the best you could hope for.”

  Josh splashed down the creek, through the woods, and back to the farmhouse. Hoot was waiting on the porch swing.

  “You were asking $199,000. That’s roughly 10,000 marks.”

  Hoot grimaced to show his displeasure of the current state of affairs. “I’d much rather have cash, even though they’re fixin’ to outlaw it. I just don’t trust that global funny money. You can’t even see it. It just exists on the internet. It don’t make no sense to me.”