New World Order: 666 - The Mark of the Beast (Vol. 1)

by W. R. Benton

  CHAPTER 23

  The President of the Conservative States of America was seated at a big oval table constructed of solid oak, listening to his Navy Commander explaining why an invasion of California wouldn't work. He listened carefully and then asked, “Sir, is your second in command here today?”

  “Yes, sir, he is Admiral James C. Howell.”

  “Good, because you, sir, are fired. Your replacement is Admiral Howell, who will now tell me how he will invade California. Gentlemen, I know in my mind that when California falls, the United States falls. Oh, Admiral Thomas, you may leave, sir; since you're no longer in charge of my Navy, you have no need to know what we discuss. My aide will bring you new orders at some point today.”

  Standing, the Admiral said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, Admiral Howell, tell me where you think we can land troops from the ocean on California's coastline.”

  The Admiral stood, walked to the huge map of California and said, “First we strike them at the eastern border of the state, and then we strike them two days later on the coast. It may be possible to land amphibious troops, Marines actually, many places along the shore line. If you'll allow me 24 hours, sir, I can determine the best places. By hitting the east first, I would expect military commanders to rush their manpower and resources to that area. Let's give me 48 hours after they move east, and then I'll strike north and south on their coast. I think we will cause deep confusion and panic.”

  “How will you know when they have moved enough gear and men to the east?”

  “Satellite photographs, sir.” the Admiral replied.

  “I will give you three days from now to plan an invasion, Admiral, but if you can't do the job, I will replace you. I will replace any man or woman on my staff who cannot or will not make things happen. I grow damned tired of negative answers.”

  “Yes, sir, I'll have a plan ready, sir.”

  The Commandant of the Marine Corps said, “If we hit a low populated area, we can estimate 5 to 10 % casualties, while an area like San Francisco or Los Angeles could cost us up to 70%. On behalf of my men and women, who were born to fight, they'll damned sure go where I send them, but to keep my losses low, try to land us in an underpopulated area, Admiral.”

  “I'll see what I can do, Steve.”

  “Okay, now, have we had any problems with riots or civil unrest in Illinois?”

  “No, sir, but some thieves were captured and executed on the spot. Their bodies were left where they fell.”

  The President looked around and asked, “Anyone else have anything?”

  Silence.

  “Okay then, let's return to work.”

  “According to intelligence,” a tall thin man dressed in black said, “the Conservative States of America are planning to invade the US on the California coast.”

  He was standing in the New World Order headquarters in Switzerland and briefing ten individuals.

  “What is their purpose in invading that state instead of another one?” Adolpha ask, her full glossy lips turning heads as she spoke.

  “California, ma'am, is the heart of the US. Many large and small cities on the coast are ports for shipping from around the world. Many large manufacturing companies are located in the state, and it's of psychological importance as well. By taking California, the CSA will show the world they are a government and military to be reckoned with, and they will be.”

  “And what is the NWO to do as this takes place?”

  Giving a grin, the man said, “Nothing, nothing major at all. We'll deal with the winner. Now, my staff tells me there is a good chance the CSA will win this battle, which may rush the end of the war. The state we're talking about is the backbone of the new US.”

  “This war could last how many years?”

  “Our analysts say this one will be over in two years maximum.”

  “Do they also predict a winner?”

  “Yes, ma'am, and it will be the CSA. One reason is folks are tired of the politics in the old US and they're rushing to the Conservative states by the millions. Black folks who have a history of voting democrat have now realized all the party was giving them was lip service and free phones. We have reports of illegal aliens fleeing back to Mexico in huge numbers because large groups of black and white folks are openly looking for them, blaming the war on them. Additionally, politicians in the CSA are sending illegals home as fast as they can round them up, and even Muslim refugees are being deported in record numbers. Soon, very soon, all that will remain are those born there and those with a green card.”

  Adolpha smiled and then asked, “What exactly do you mean when you say, “tired of the politics?”

  “Before the war, as every member of the NWO knows, we bought most politicians, but we weren't the only ones paying them. Often a politician would be elected and his social status would be upper middle class. Then, at the end of his four years of service in Politics, he'd leave office as a millionaire. How is that possible making what most governments pay politicians?”

  “I see. So, as these people fight we do nothing? What of our war with them?”

  “Patience my dear. We do nothing. We will send agents into the country, but the days of chip implanting may be over for a while. The Conservative States of America are beyond any doubt a Christian nation. Now, I'm sorry to say it may take a hundred years or more before we can bring implanting back. Hopefully, given time, political parties will change, and the Liberals will return.”

  “Damn,” she said, “I'd hoped for a winter home in Florida this year.”

  The man laughed and said, “That concludes my lecture; any questions?”

  Silence filled the briefing room.

  “Have a good day.” he said as he moved toward his training aids and began collecting his papers and notes.

  Adolpha approached him after the rest left and asked, “Would you be interested in supper at my place?”

  “You live in Frankfurt, do you not?”

  “Yes, that is my primary residence, but I have a small cottage here.” She met his eyes and then winked at him.

  “Uh, how do I find this cottage of yours?”

  “Here is my card,” she said, and extended her hand. When he took the card, his index finger touched her hand and she moaned.

  “And what time is supper, and the attire?”

  “1800 sharp and wear as little as is legal.” She gave a low, deep laugh and then added, “I'll have the champagne chilled and on ice.”

  “And,” he asked grinning, “what is on the menu?”

  She ran her tongue seductively over her red glossy lips and then replied, “Me, just me.”

  Coming Soon,

  “New World Order: The California Invasion, Volume 2,”

  from W.R. Benton.

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  About the Author

  W. R. Benton, pen name for Gary L. Benton, was born in the Missouri Ozarks. He is a graduate of Wayland Baptist College, Texas, with a BS in Occupational Safety and health. Benton's writing has been endorsed by writers Don Bendell, Matt Braun, and Stephen Lodge, as well as actor James Drury, "The Virginian," actor Robert Woods, Mississippi Senator Terry Burton, and many others. He's been interviewed by many local Mississippi television and radio stations.

  A true cowboy at heart, Benton spent over 26 years on active military duty with the United States Air Force and retired in 1997, with the rank of Senior Master Sergeant (E-8). He lives on an imaginary ranch with hundreds of horses and thousands of make believe cows. He has four dogs and two cats.

  You can discover more about W. R. Benton by visiting his websites, www.simplesurvival.net or www.wrbenton.net .

  Be sure to visit him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/gary.l.benton. His books, all of them, can be found at http://www.amazon.com/author/wrbenton/


  A sample chapter from NWO Volume 2,

  New World Order:

  California Invasion

  Chapter 1

  A man dressed in all black, his head and face covered by a ski mask, and his hands protected by gloves pushed a roughed up prisoner into the dark room. The captive, an aid to the President of the United States, had been captured and then flown out of the country. His flight had been long, but not as long as he'd thought. With the help of drugs, especially morphine, he had no idea where he was or how long the flight had been. He was an administrative type, hated guns, and lacked guts in most issues. From 2010 to 2020, he'd worked with the slow Liberal take over of America, as a vote analyst. While he didn't consider himself really needed, the current President's and previous ones had all counted on his information to move forward slowly toward their goal of complete socialism. The Conservative party was so weak then, destroyed by internal bickering, that it was no threat to the Democrats and especially the Liberals leaning toward communism.

  His name was Jesse Stovall. He was a smallish man, closer to five feet than six, light weight at 110 pounds, and his brown hair was long. His green eyes spoke volumes of his deep intelligence and with just with a quick glance, most could see he was a brilliant man. However, Jesse was a sheep and lacked backbone when it came to violence or standing up for an issue. He was terrified and right now it was a smart way to feel. He'd been brought to Germany so he could be executed, his death videoed, and then sent to the President of the United States. This would be done so the President could see how the NWO treated those who tried to leave their organization.

  The current President had sudden broke contact with the leaders of the New World Order, so they brought Jesse here to make an example of him. The Boss, a man known by few, and not the real leader of the NWO, wanted the weak man executed so his pain and fear would be captured by a video camera. The Boss was actually just a working member of the NWO board, and behind the group was a person or persons with unlimited funds. The Boss simply carried out orders from the real boss and any actions the board had agreed on, which was why he was working this day. He received his orders each day by brown envelopes, delivered overnight.

  “Uh, yes, bring out guest in and get him comfortable.”

  “Why am I here?” Jesse asked as soon as his gag was removed.

  “Your question will be answered in time. Did you have a comfortable trip?” a voice unknown to Jesse asked from the surrounding darkness.

  The new Boss had just taken over after the last one, who was killed in an English Hospital by an enemy agent. He was tall and lean, wore a black mustache and kept it trimmed short. He wore an expensive tailored black suit, white shirt and black tie. His height was six feet and two inches and he weighed 180 pounds. Like everyone he worked with he was wealthy, and looked to be a successful business man, which he was, but his real job was managing the expansion of the New World Order.

  The room was dark, with the only lighted area a large table with straps and drawers build under the piece of furniture. Jesse would soon find the contents of the many drawers to be fearsome. The boss was standing now, moving around as he toyed with his prey. He was smoking an expensive Cuban hand-rolled cigar and sipping on a bit of cognac.

  The masked guard forced Jesse to sit on the table and then chained his feet and hands, so his movements were limited.

  Jesse was unaware, but three video cameras were recording the whole meeting from different angles. The three recordings would be viewed, edited, and only the best of the execution to be the finished product. One camera was to concentrate on his face, so the President to see the doomed man's response to being tortured. The second camera would zoom in on the torture process to show the harsh and bloody details. The last camera showed the overall view of the room.

  “Mister Stovall, do you have any idea who I am or why you are here?” the boss asked.

  “N . . . no, sir.”

  The Boss moved to the sofa and sat beside a beautiful blonde woman, who was scantly dressed and his Mistress. She moaned when he sat beside her, knowing he always wanted to play roughly following a torture session. She'd discovered the pain inflected and screams of the victim stimulated him, much more than her smoking hot kisses. She was pleased that tonight he'd want her, and he'd turn a bit rough throughout the whole evening. Torture did nothing for her, sexually, but when the Boss turned rough, her passion grew to match his. He was a moody man, but she lived a nice pampered life, and all she had to do was keep him happy. She'd discovered years ago keeping him happy was simple.

  She was a small woman at five feet and three inches, with long blonde hair, deep bottomless blue eyes, large breasts, narrow waist and a nice curve to her rear. Her name real name was Eva Ludeke, but she was called Beth by her man. She'd been Beth for so long, she'd almost forgotten her real name.

  “Do you know why your President has refused to follow my orders?”

  “N . . . no, sir. I have no idea.” Jesse lied.

  “Oh, is that so?” The boss stood and began pacing again. He walked by the American and suddenly, without warning, slapped him hard on his cheek.

  Jesse, scared, screamed and then started to shake. His eyes grew huge at the thought of more physical abuse.

  “I want the truth, boy. If you refuse to tell me, then I'll allow Wolfgang to work on you a bit. I don't want to do that, not really, because he tends to get bloody.”

  “I . . . I suggested he leave the NWO and establish a nation of his own, away from your organization.”

  “Why would you recommend such a stupid move?” the boss asked, and then leaned over to kiss Beth, her kiss deep, as she moaned. He squeezed her breast, broke the kiss and yelled, “I asked you a question!”

  “I . . . I don't . . . don't know. I thought . . . thought you lacked, uh, power, but I see you . . . have the ability to strike out. Don't hit me again, please.”

  Opening a bottom drawer, he pulled out an old crank generator, and held the long wires so the light reflected off the connections which resembled jumper cables.

  Turning to Wolfgang he said, “Attach one to his nipple and the other to his ear. Then I'll see if he'll talk openly with me. He must think we're fools, my friend. Does he really think I'll be satisfied with his answer?”

  “No, please!” Jesse screamed, just before Wolfgang backhanded him hard.

  Wolfgang, known in NWO as the Enforcer, pulled the chains as Jesse screamed, until the man was flat on his back. He then moved to his feet and pulled them tight as well. Opening another drawer, he removed a long sharp knife and cut the young man's shirt off.

  “You must be a woman, American, because you have no hair on your chest!” the Enforcer screamed at the young man on the table.

  “D . . . don't hurt me . . . please.”

  He moved the spring loaded clamp until Jesse's right nipple was between the sides of the clamp. Then he attached the other wire to the lobe of his left ear. Jesse screamed, his voice a warbling tone, and his chest convulsed as the generator sent a mild electric shock through his torso. His body jerked and twitched, as he begged Wolfgang to do no more.

  “Mister Stovall, you were specifically brought here to die, so later we can drop your mutilated body near your new Capital in California. I'm greatly saddened to say, you will not leave here alive.”

  “W. . . what of . . . my wife?” Jesse asked as the Enforcer moved to the other side of the table.

  “She,” The Boss looked at his watch, “is currently being raped by five of our men in your home, so I don't think she'll survive her ordeal either. Especially with Peter along, who carries a very sharp knife, and loves to use it on women. Usually when finished with a woman, he'll simply cut her throat, but by then, she'll have felt his sharp blade many times. That leaves no witnesses and the only way to identify my men would be DNA from their sperm, but pouring acid on her body will eliminate that issue.”

  The generator was turned on again and once more Jesse screamed.

  “Wolfgan
g, that is enough for a while, but the next time, bring the electric branding iron, so when you get serious about playing with him, you can cauterize his injuries. When you remove his penis and testicles, you'll need the bleeding to stop quickly, or he'll stop playing with us.”

  “What now, sir?” Wolfgang asked.

  “Leave for now and let Mister Stovall think about his current situation. Return in, oh, say, in an hour. Then you can entertain us for a long time this evening. I do hope Jesse lasts longer than the last three we tortured to death. They died much too quickly.” the Boss said.

  As soon as Wolfgang left, The Boss moved to the sofa, sat beside Beth, and said, “See if you can make me smile.”

  *****

  Sue Stovall was nothing like her husband and folks often wondered how they'd gotten together, with the marriage surprising everyone. She was petite, her brown hair worn long, green eyes and full lips that appeared to be pouting all the time. She was raised in the country on a farm and was as comfortable in the woods as at home. Unlike Jesse, she carried a concealed Ruger, a huge .45 auto, and she was a good shot with it. While most women wanted a smaller and lighter gun so it kicked less, she wanted a gun that would be able to knock a big man on his ass, with just one bullet. She carried it in the small of her back and wore a huge extra large tee with jeans.

  Walking up the steps to her home, she noticed she had visitors, and knew without opening the door. Each time she left the house, she placed a strip of invisible tape at the top. It was the same transparent tape she wrapped Christmas presents with and you could see it, if you paid attention. It ran from the door frame to the door —almost two inches long. Enter and the tape would hang lose. Today, for the first time, it was hanging freely and moving with the wind.