by John Edward
When she read it she was horrified.
PICCADILLY CIRCUS 1045 SHAKIR BEGINS HIS VOYAGE TO PARADISE.
Asima’s blood ran cold. She knew exactly what that meant. Somehow Shakir had been talked into becoming a suicide bomber.
“No!” she shouted, her voice one long, agonizing wail.
Wadding the note up in her hand, she started back up the corridor. She had to get there in time. She had to.
CHAPTER
77
In the black chambers of the Tribunal, the final murder was being planned. The twelfth victim was to be put into position, which would ignite the renewed media hysteria about the serial killings in Ireland. International headlines would scream from every newspaper, TV broadcast, and Internet outlet that the Belfast serial killer or killers represented a new and unstoppable force in the world. Their minions on Earth, who had already been activated, would understand this call to action for the final confrontation with the remaining, weakened forces of good—their neighbors and, in many cases, their own family members.
Further, when the extracted heart of the twelfth victim was placed into position, the aerial views of the macabre circle would show an astrological chart of attack. The specific date and time displayed would set off the sleeper cells of spiritual terrorists, “alarm clocks,” and point them to waves of destruction and fearmongering, from outright terrorist attacks to domestic violence and attacks on the human soul.
There were no boundaries to the Tribunal’s active intervention in the world, no religious targets—except all religions and all people. They would use members of all faiths and no faith at all as their agents in the imminent battle for the hearts and minds of humanity. Just as they had harnessed the physical universe, they would harness the psychic and psychological powers of humankind to their ends.
The plan was brilliant in its simplicity, as it would play out against chaos and the clash of energies from every direction and every source. The Tribunal had worked within religions from the beginning, to great effect, destroying some—and their adherents in the process—and weakening others, until today the power of religion, of all religions, was at its lowest ebb in human history.
The One had been appearing to individuals and groups of people all over the world, in all walks of life, to those of all religions, and even those who had no particular faith. The One would, in fact, be one of the chief tools of the forces of darkness poised to be unleashed by the Tribunal. The message: Viva Domingo. The actions: mayhem and destruction in their own lives and neighborhoods, in cities and random locations throughout the world.
This meticulously planned attack of the Dark Forces, utilizing their ability to plug into the hearts, souls, and minds of persons everywhere, would activate the fears of individuals who would “follow the herd” or else suffer waves of fear and self-loathing that would separate them from their fellow human beings … It was a vicious circle of energy that entrapped the victim in actions that, whatever choices might be made, would result only in negative results and the release of even more negative energy.
For many years—centuries, in fact—the Tribunal’s efforts had infected human existence and development, combating the very idea of individuality that religions and philosophies had promoted. Now it had taken on a viral quality: speed and omnipresence throughout cultures across the entire globe. The decline of individuality and personal responsibility meant that people would seek a leader to lift them from their malaise. The leaders who would rise to the task had already been groomed. Years of ego and entitlement hunger were fed, as were the feelings that they had been personally wronged—whether as a culture or an individual—by family, boss, or society.
Small, localized uprisings had begun in recent years all over the planet. This friction against governments and minorities had sparked larger fires of embattled consciousness that were now ready to be fanned into a major conflagration. The Dark Masters were emboldened and empowered in ways they had not been for centuries on end. Now they held the whip hand.
The Dark Energies would simply plug into this eternal battery of energy, and the earthly plane would plummet into a dark night of the soul as only artists and prophets had ever imagined might actually occur in humanity’s lifetime.
The Tribunal had been created by active, restless spirits, the Dark Masters whose eternal reach and depth of malevolence could not be measured. The members of the Tribunal had been plucked from their earthly incarnations and soul-washed into believing they had no choice or ability to evolve from their last earthly life. Many of them believed that they were working off karma and were blindly being led by energies, many of them tricksters like IRA. These energies would be lost in a battle of the Heavens as the Dark Forces of the Tribunal mocked the light energies of the Council of Elders and the angelic hierarchies for not attempting to overthrow their Reign of Enlightenment—as their propaganda and rhetoric implied.
This type of rhetoric was absorbed very easily into the newfound consciousness that awaked in beings on the Other Side from the earthly transition. All the souls who did not seek out any belief, or abandoned their faith on Earth, who did not believe that there was something beyond their egos, who had sadness, loneliness, and despair in their hearts as they lived out their earthly lives were pulled to the negative side of the universe. The thing that IRA and the other tricksters wanted these souls not to realize is that all a soul ever needed to do was use their free will and choose to be in the light when they transitioned.
So in the moments of their awakening on the Other Side, as with POTUS, the campaign would begin, and the IRAs of that plane would begin to program them into feeling what they needed to feel in order for the Dark Forces to fuel on the remnants of their terrestrial energy. And the Forces of Light let them do this, for to interfere with a soul’s evolution was forbidden to them.
Energy was the answer. Energy was the weapon. Energy was the result. Energy was the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.
But would the energy of the individual and the masses be bent to the purposes of good or of evil? This was the battle line that had been drawn down through the ages.
The Tribunal, then, motivated their network of soldiers by broadcasting this energetic message of accomplishment: We are winning. We possess more and more new souls each day. We are the masters of the energies of the world.
The legions of souls who embraced their messages were seeking community and love, like all people, and would settle for attention and earthly energy and power as a plugged-in resource. Again, it was exactly like the pools of passion that POTUS had experienced. Similar to the way that cigarette makers hook their users, the rush can become a way of life, of habit and ultimate, undeniable need for that cigarette—that experience that answers the cravings of body and soul. The dependency of so many on the earthly energy was the structure on which the Tribunal’s Army of Souls built its campaign to fuel and manipulate the currency of uncertainty, fear, and control.
This was their means to achieve total domination.
Through their minds, bent as one to destructive purpose, the mantra of chaos coursed like life’s blood. The leader of the Tribunal constantly addressed them, wherever they were, whatever time of no-day and no-night, whatever epoch or season—for all melded into the same black eternity of the now:
“The earthly clock is ticking down as the celestial bodies in what men call the skies align in our favor. Just as we have moved the stars and planets with energies and forces stolen from the pitiful humankind, so we have generated even more resources to allow us to grow and evolve, to realize our true power and purpose. Soon we will be able to see our families, who have crossed into the Light and have been kept from us! Soon we shall have the order that was promised to us and never delivered in the face of the Source and the promise of love and energy.”
The words, uttered in every language ever known on Planet Earth, shouted from the tower that was a corrupted Babel, thoroughly penetrated the network of souls with a message o
f hate and triumph. A beautiful message: the most welcome vision of a new age of darkness that they could imagine. They—the armies of Angel Emphatic and his co-generals and minions—had been formed and soul-washed over time immemorial to receive the encouragement of the Dark Masters and revel in it. The time was nigh.
Clouds formed in the skies that enveloped the planet, and the hearts and souls of a few humans were beginning to recognize their calling was possibly to save not only Earth, but maybe Heaven as well … But how could this be accomplished—how would the final battle be staged?
The few who knew the answers held back from revealing all to their followers. It would be clear enough soon. Scientists were now dangerously close to understanding the significance of the dark matter, evidence that the cloud was expanding more rapidly now. Based on the data, they, too, would know the truth soon. Very soon indeed!
CHAPTER
78
Vatican City
“His Holiness has viewed the shows you sent,” Cardinal Luigi Morricone said.
“And what did he think?” Dave Hampton asked.
“He was particularly moved that both he and a pastor from Dallas, Texas, delivered the same New Year’s Day message at exactly the same hour.”
“Will His Holiness speak to me?”
“He will speak with you,” Cardinal Morricone said. “But he asks that there be no television cameras or microphones.”
“Agreed.”
“Wait here,” Morricone said.
Dave was Presbyterian, not Catholic, and many of the rituals and rites of the Church were foreign to him, but he felt a profound sense of reverence for where he was and what he had seen since arriving at the Vatican. He didn’t know what this room was, but it felt like sanctified ground, with the crucifix on one wall, a painting of the Blessed Mother and Christ child on another, votive candles around, and a softly lit picture of Pope John Paul II on yet another.
As he stood looking at the picture of Pope John Paul II, Genaro came walking briskly into the room. At first, Dave wasn’t sure it was the pope. He had never seen him in person, only in photographs in which he was always wearing the chasuble and the double-peaked bishop’s cap known as a miter. But now he was wearing a white mozzetta, a gold pectoral cross, red shoes, and a white zucchetto, or skullcap. Dave wasn’t sure how to greet him. Should he bow? Dip to one knee? He was sure he wasn’t supposed to shake hands.
“Please, Mr. Hampton, have a seat,” the pope invited, speaking in easily understandable but Italian-accented English.
“Thank you, Your Holiness,” Dave said. At least he had that right.
The pope sat as well. “I am told that you want to speak with me about good and evil,” the pope said.
“Yes. But not just—”
“Not just the concepts of good and evil,” Genaro said, completing the sentence for Dave.
“No, sir, not just the concepts. Holy Father, I’m not sure how to express this. Well, that isn’t true, I have been talking about it for weeks, perhaps months on my TV show. But I am sure that you would have more insight into this than anyone else on earth.”
“That is where you are wrong, Mr. Hampton. This insight is not limited to me. I have spoken of it with men of different faiths, who have also been touched by a higher power. The pastor in Texas that you spoke of so eloquently in your television broadcast. I am sure that he, too, has been touched by that same power.” Genaro paused for a moment. “As have you.”
Dave laughed nervously, then held out his hand. “No, wait a minute, you’ve got me misplaced there. I’m not a man of the cloth. I’ll be honest with you, I’m not even that regular about attending church.”
“And yet, God has spoken to you.”
“I … I don’t know,” Dave said. “He didn’t speak to me from a burning bush, I’ve never heard voices or anything like that.”
“Why have you undertaken this crusade to warn others of the Dark Forces of evil?”
“It isn’t just religious. There is a real cloud of dark matter approaching earth—”
“From a galaxy known as Pandora’s Cluster,” Pope Genaro said.
“Yes.”
“But even before you learned of this from the scientists, you were speaking of a—I believe you called it ‘sinister shadow.’”
“Yes.”
“And where did you learn of this sinister shadow?”
“I don’t know, it was just something that I felt. From watching the news and reporting it day in and day out, I formed an opinion—one that I thought would be a shocker for the ratings—but then began to really believe it.”
“As I said, you were touched by the hand of God. Mr. Hampton, let me tell you what I think this is.
“I believe that there exists in the world beyond our own two very powerful kingdoms. And it’s pretty black-and-white. I would define it as the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Satan. Both God and Satan have an uncountable number of messengers, or perhaps, in the case of Satan, minions who are set to carry out their orders.
“These angels are made up of souls who have never incarnated, as well as the billions of souls that have. God’s family are good, and contain in their number such notables as”—he pointed toward the picture of a previous pope—“John Paul the Second, Mother Teresa, Saint Peter, your grandfather, my mother—in other words, all who have lived and died with a good soul.
“Now, this battle has been going on from the beginning of time. And even if we are successful, it will continue. But what makes this point so critical is the fact that, for the first time in human history, the powers of darkness feel that the world has moved so far away from God that they can call upon the living manifestations of evil to help them in their battle.”
“Like the serial killer in Belfast,” Dave said.
“Yes. And those who have taken upon themselves, with unbridled fanaticism, the secular fight to eliminate all vestiges of worship. We have seen so many events recently that test the beliefs of the faithful: terrible earthquakes, planes crashing mysteriously, eruptions of violence in various parts of the world. All evidence of negativity and, yes, evil that only feeds people’s perceptions of a world without the presence of a loving, positive force. We in the religious realms call it by many names, but in my heart they all come from the same source. But we have our own source, a well of positive energy to combat this evil. We look there for answers, for light in the darkness. The secular, anti-religious use the negative forces for their purposes.”
“I know what you mean,” Dave said. “However, I think that there are many people in the world who are atheists and who are good, decent people. Forgive me, Your Holiness, but I truly believe that you don’t necessarily have to be a person of faith to have a good heart. But then there are those who have wrapped themselves in the cloak of atheism and are actively trying not to advocate a discussion of reason but to destroy the faith of others. Theirs is a world of hate and fear. The question is, what are we to do about it?”
“You have made a beginning, my son. Your television program reaches millions, and those millions tell millions more. As Christians, we must take up the cross of Jesus, but this battle transcends Christianity. It is the classic battle of good against evil, and in order to win, we will require the combined efforts of not just those of faith but all men of goodwill, whether they agree with my conception of the Creator or not.”
“You seem to be more open to the validity of other religions than your predecessors were. May I ask you—?”
“Holy Father,” Cardinal Morricone said, stepping into the room at that moment. “You have a full schedule today.”
“Please forgive me if I’ve taken too much of your time,” Dave said.
“Any time we are doing God’s work is time well spent,” Pope Genaro said. He smiled at the interviewer, indicating without words that he had heard Dave Hampton’s question.
South Junction, Jamaica
On her first visit, a decade earlier, Willi Steenberg had been a tourist loo
king for a fun, relaxing time at a Jamaican resort in the coastal parish of Saint Elizabeth. But after five days of nonstop sun and rum drinks, she asked the hotel concierge for a car and directions to a “real” town where she could meet some “real” people.
The young Dutch woman drove about forty miles inland and a few hundred feet up in elevation to South Junction, which was little more than just that—a meeting of two main roads, with shops and a petrol station, a bank and a bus stop. Within the immediate vicinity were a few hundred homes surrounded on all sides by farmland and woodland, just a mile from a little river that flowed into the Caribbean Sea below.
Willi had been born and raised in the countryside, then attended university in Utrecht, and moved there to live and work for the rest of her adult life. So she was used to city and country life both. She loved the look of the bustling little outpost of civilization and stopped to eat and refuel her rental car.
A gaggle of primary schoolchildren caught her eye. They were on lunch break and came into the café to buy some patties and cola drinks before returning to classes. She asked one of them where they went to school.
“In the town hall basement,” the girl with golden brown skin and night-black hair told her.
“Oh? You don’t have a schoolhouse?”
“Our school was blown down by the hurricane last year,” another youngster said. “No more schoolhouse for us.”
Willi asked around town and found out that, indeed, the five-grade school, which had been little more than a tin warehouse in the first place, had blown away. So, when she went back home after that first trip, she thought about what she could do to help the kids. She priced some inexpensive but sturdy buildings that could be built in the area and researched labor costs and local politics. Her conclusion: She could build a new school with her own savings, some gifts and loans from friends, and credit card equity. It really didn’t cost all that much, all things considered.