by Terry James
"When ye, therefore, shall see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, stand in the holy place (whosoever readeth, let him understand), Then let them who are in Judaea flee into the mountains; Let him who is on the housetop not come down to take anything out of his house; Neither let him who is in the field return back to take his clothes. And woe unto those who are with child, and to those who nurse children in those days! " Matthew 24:15-19.
He quickly flipped pages to another section of the book, then transcribed the words:
"Let no man deceive you by any means; for that day shall not come, except there come the falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition, Who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called God, or that is worshiped, so that he, as God, sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God" 2 Thessalonians 2:3-4.
The ancient predictions, in light of Master Manya's claim to Godhood and INterface's genocidal intentions toward Jews, would have at another time chilled his sensibility. But he was too fatigued now, too numbed by Trachetrol, to wholly assess the Six Ways Plan and how it might fit within the prophetical scheme. The drug was pushing him from the present. He saw, with his swirling memory, the thin, bespectacled face of the man who had warned of the coming system that now bedeviled him.
He fought against the drowsiness, standing, doing calisthenics, then splashing his face with water taken from the tap near the window. He sat down again, his thoughts returning to that night. He failed to see the Scanner come to life and oscillate slowly, first toward the right side of the room then toward him. He saw only the face of Hugo Marchek and heard only the cacophony of voices in conversation, coming from somewhere in Marchek's home...
"You must be Mr. Jacob Zen," said the old man in a voice melodious with good humor. Marchek had to look upward to see Jacob while he reached to his guest's offered hand.
“Yes, sir. Sorry if I've caused any problems by being late."
“Nonsense, young man! Come! Someone is going to have a fatal attack if she does not see you.”
Marchek held Jacob's elbow, gently towing him toward the conversational noise. “And did you get your business taken care of?”
The question, offered lightly, was obviously not intended to pry.
"Yes. All taken care of."
"Marvelous! Now maybe our Miss Mossberg can smile again. She has had on her longest face all evening--I presume because you have not been here."
They entered the living room, Jacob looking over the milling guests. Marchek called for their attention and got it.
"Karen. Introduce to us your guest, please," the old man said, pushing Jacob forward into the arms of the girl, whose smile spoke her feeling for the party's latest arrival. She pulled Jacob aside when the introductions had been made and the others had returned to their various discussions, her eyes flashing a mixture of anger, concern, and relief.
"You could've returned my calls," she said in an irritated whisper, glancing nervously at the other guests, hoping she had not scolded loudly enough for them to hear. "I called your cell four times. I've been worried."
"You mean you're mad because I didn't get here exactly when you thought I ought to, and because I didn't call to check in like you thought I should," he said teasingly.
"Don't tell me what I thought! Or what I mean!" her face reddened and her words spilled angrily into the ears of those nearest them. She didn’t care.
Jacob pulled her by her arm to near a corner to get away from the others. "I’m sorry about not returning the calls. There’s something wrong with my cell phone.” He moved them a few feet farther from the crowd. “What is wrong with you, Karen? Since when do you make so much of a joke?"
Tears trickled in slow, thin streams down her cheeks and he stopped questioning her, pulling her to him and whispering while her face lay against his chest.
"What's wrong, Kay? My being late couldn't have upset you this much."
He pushed her away, holding her firmly by her shoulders and looking into her eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."
She said nothing, but reached into the right pocket of her slacks, took out a wadded piece of paper and handed it to him. He smoothed the paper and silently read the message typed on it.
"YOU AND THOSE YOU LOVE CAN BE ELIMINATED AT ANY TIME. THIS IS TO ADVISE YOU TO CONVINCE MARCHEK TO LEAVE MATTERS VITAL TO NATIONAL SECURITY TO THOSE WHO KNOW BEST, OR YOU WILL PAY THE CONSEQUENCE OF HIS MEDDLING."
The small piece of paper had markings, he discovered through examination.
It had been ripped from what must have been an 8-1/2” x 11" sheet of white bond, two sides having ragged edges. The type was light and the letters broken in places. The non-uniform crispness of the elite characters told him they were struck with inconsistent pressure due, most likely, to varying degrees of strength in the typist's fingers. The machine must have been an old manual.
"It's just some over-zealous staff member of the NSA. Or it could be from a lobbyist who has investment interests in the UNTVTJS system."
"No!... No!" She shook her head in vigorous disagreement. "That's not all. Come with me."
She led him into the foyer then down the hallway and into Marchek's study. Reaching into the upper left drawer, she withdrew from Marchek's desk a manila envelope and handed it to Jacob. "The note was clipped to this. I found it lying on the valet seat when I stepped out of the shower."
"It wasn't there before?" He opened the envelope and spread its contents about the desktop.
"No. I put my jeans across the seat before I went into the shower, and the envelope was lying on top of them when I came out."
"They're photographs." He spread them farther in order to better make sense of the color prints which were obviously taken with a long-range lens. Each of the prints was marked with black circles, each circle drawn within another circle. A vertical line crossed a horizontal line at each target's center. He looked beyond the simulated telescopic rifle sight to the subjects in the photographs. One showed Hugo Marchek walking in a downtown Washington, D.C. setting with a briefcase under his arm. The others were of Karen leaning over a desk, and of himself, reaching for the driver’s-side door of his Volvo.
He studied the prints for several seconds, then put his arms around Karen. "Whoever it is, is just trying to frighten you. They probably figured Dr. Marchek wouldn't react as strongly as you, so they wanted you to find their little package."
"They were right. It worked," she said, holding him tightly.
"As crazy as it sounds, this sort of thing isn't all that uncommon any more in D.C. What some elements can't get in more civilized ways, they'll try to get any way they can. Usually, things like this are done by cowards who operate like rats. They don't have the guts to face someone directly or to follow through on their threats. This is probably the last we'll hear from them."
His words sounded good, but whoever had been in Karen's bedroom had let himself or herself in and out in a professional manner. The photographs had been professionally done, assuring Jacob in his own mind that this was not simply a lightweight attempt to scare off Marchek's group. He saw in her trusting expression that she didn't suspect his fears, and that his bravado had at least somewhat allayed hers.
There was a knock at the study door, and it opened slightly. Hugo Marchek stuck his head through the crack. "I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, but perhaps we need to discuss the matter which I see you have before you."
"Yes. I agree completely," Jacob said, releasing Karen and turning to face the eschatologist.
"Would you mind, my dear, seeing to my guests?" Marchek said to Karen, hoping to convince her that his need of help in the matter was genuine. She knew it was not, but, after getting an agreeing nod from Jacob, she left the room.
“There is no finer young woman, Mr. Zen."
“I agree. And she is very capable of handling this sort of thing, I assure you, Dr. Marchek."
“Of course she is. But please hear me out."
The old man moved to a coffee server which sat on a table near the floor-to-ceiling window of his study "May I pour you some coffee?"
"Yes, thanks."
The task accomplished, he handed Jacob the cup, his pleasant smile dissolving into a look of concern. "You see, Mr. Zen..."
"Please, Jacob."
"Jacob. Karen concerns herself far too much with my welfare. She worries whether I have eaten enough, that I am too thin, that I am lonely, that I work too hard... I wanted to talk with you alone, because, as the one who is closest to her, I feel you will want all the facts possible, to see that she is protected from worry and..."
He let the thought die, returning to the server. He poured himself coffee and sat in the old brown leather chair behind his desk. Jacob sat in a chair directly across the desk from him.
"I have not confided to Karen what I am about to tell you, because I am afraid it would overly concern her. I tell you now only because of my fears for her safety—because she is well known to be involved in our organization, and because there are those who wish Preservers of American Liberty, and me, silenced."
"She told me about these." Jacob pointed to the photographs spread across the desk. "And showed me the note."
"No... No! The things I am speaking of now are things she knows nothing about. I was praying they would not involve her, but, as you can see, they have."
"They?"
"Those who would silence us. I am not certain myself who they are. They have introduced themselves to me very bluntly, nonetheless."
"They've threatened you before?"
"Three nights ago, two gentlemen came in through the door at the side of my house--the kitchen door. I was working in my study. Large men, dressed in heavy coats, who made no effort to hide their faces. One with black, thinning hair, one with reddish hair and a mustache. The words were, 'Stop meddling in matters which concern only those who know what is best for this country. Quit stirring up trouble for those who are working to keep this the greatest and strongest nation on earth.'
“I replied that, in my opinion, the people have the right to decide for themselves what is in their best interest; that they also have the right to not be intruded upon by persons who illegally enter their homes and make threats against them.
“ 'Let me clear that misunderstanding up now,' the one with the mustache said. Then he hit me like this." Marchek demonstrated the attacker's right, back-handed blow. "This is the result," he said, pulling his glasses from his face and turning his head so Jacob could see the deep cut above his right ear, a wound, Jacob guessed, probably caused by a large ring.
"The man who hit me then said that he did not like misunderstandings. That he was leaving his mark to prove that he deals in actions, not words only. The next time, he said, he will not leave me a head from which to bleed. He handed me his handkerchief and said something about how he had always believed that old men were the wisest of all men, and he hoped I did not destroy this belief by failing to do what he and his friend advised. I was, needless to say, wise enough to keep my mouth closed at that moment.”
“Did you call the police?”
"I did. They said they would come to make an investigation on the incident when they had taken care of more pressing criminal matters. As I said, that was three days ago. I still have not heard from the police, although I have called several times since, only to be told that a Captain Emory Jackson handles such things in my area of the city and that he has been tied up in other things."
"You can't let this sort of thing go by without getting action taken on it."
"There are ways, of course. I could take it directly to the media, or to some acquaintances in Congress. But to do that would be to use valuable ammunition in shooting at small game. It would be just a tiny personal matter, and that is not what I wish those in the media or my congressional contacts to focus on. It would merely give our detractors reason to offer what they would claim was proof that I am only concerned with furthering my personal ambitions for publicity or whatever. And, too, Karen would be upset terribly — as would the others in PAL. No. I will see that the matter is brought to light when it can be combined with other incriminating data, at precisely the right time."
"But meantime, your life might be in danger. These people sound like the kind you can't fool around with. And Karen... what about her? How long will it be until they do something like that to her? Or worse?"
"This is why I am confiding in you. Your contacts within government are much greater than mine, and can be undertaken with less notoriety. I do not know the ins and outs as you do. Perhaps if you could find where this pressure is coming from, someone of your acquaintance might persuade them to leave Karen alone."
Jacob could see in Marchek's expression, and hear in his gentle tone, that the old man's concern was genuinely not selfish, but was totally for Karen.
"If it's coming from anywhere in any agency I know about, you can believe I will," Jacob said.
"I have tried to persuade her to leave PAL so she will not be a target of this... this attempted extortion. As you might expect, she will not do so."
"And she shouldn't have to, should she? What's it all about, anyway? We still have freedom of expression, don't we? So long as it's done in a legal manner. No, Dr. Marchek, it's these thugs who are a threat to the nation, not your organization. I don't agree with everything you espouse, but you have the right to believe it--to express it, too. I'll get to the bottom of it if there's any way..."
"You refresh an old man's memory with a joyous lesson I learned when I first came to this great country. Maybe, despite working so closely with freedom, I, for a brief moment, forgot our young lady's right to express her thoughts, also. You are right, of course; there have been many people die for that right. We cannot give in to them, no matter what the cost."
Jacob stood and moved to the window before turning to face Marchek. "What I find hard to believe is that anyone would concern themselves enough with your activities to use such strong-arm methods. Forgive me, Dr. Marchek, but from what I've learned my talks with Karen, I don't see your cause, or your capabilities, as posing a significant threat to anybody. I just can’t figure why whoever’s doing this would go to so much trouble."
"No offense taken, Jacob," Marchek said, a knowing smile crossing his face. "You will not perhaps, grasp my explanation of why my tiny organization looms so largely in the eyes of certain elements — not only in Washington, but in other capitals, as well — why I pose such a threat to them."
"You believe that it's you, personally, they're after? Not the ideology you represent? Not the resistance you throw in their way?"
"It is me they want eliminated, because I am one among a very few who have insight into their master plan for bringing their kingdom into being. And I am, perhaps, the only one who is trying to fight the evil intention of our adversary through political and governmental institutions. How long I will be permitted to oppose them through these channels, I cannot say."
"You're talking about some conspiracy to establish dictatorship?"
"Precisely."
"But, such an undertaking, no matter who did the planning, would be humanly impossible — if you're talking about a western or global dictatorship. The divergent political ideologies, the differences in cultures, the religious differences, the social and national animosities that have been going on for generations—some for centuries. Such a one-world dictatorship couldn't possibly hold up. There wouldn't be enough soldiers on earth to enforce such a system."
"You said the key word, young man. 'Humanly,' you said. It would not be humanly possible, you are right. I assure you, however, it will be inhumanly done. More precisely, it will be supernaturally accomplished. It will be a one-world hell on earth, presided over by the devil himself in the form of a superhuman dictator. This is why they want me eliminated, because I know these things, and because I am dedicated to postponing the establishment of their hellish order."
"And how will that be done?" Jacob
inquired.
"Just the babblings of an old religious fanatic?" Marchek asked with a tolerant smile. "Well, this scenario of a final world dictatorship, I cannot claim credit or blame for. This ending to the greatest of all dramas was written by the hand of God himself.
"To answer your question, how will it be done? How shall we accomplish the postponement of Satan establishing his Antichrist government? I am not at all certain it can be done. Notice I said ‘postponement of,’ not ‘stop,’ its establishment. I only know I must try to do my part to hold it off as long as possible."
"If it's inevitable, why fight it?"
"For the greatest reason there can be. The salvation of souls. The reason Jesus Christ came to earth."
"Now you've lost me for sure," Jacob said. "What does this... this dictatorship thing have to do with whether a soul obtains salvation?"
''Original sin is at the heart of it all. Eve first fell prey to Satan's deception, then offered the forbidden fruit to Adam, who also partook. Thus, man's fall from grace, from God’s perfect righteousness--the only state of existence God can accept in order for His creation to be in perfect harmony with Him. Sin came into the world; therefore, mankind could no longer walk perfectly with his Creator. All people need a Savior, you see.”
“Jesus Christ shed His blood on the cross at Calvary. He is that Savior.”
"Satan was the author of that imperfection, that sin, and is still its chief encourager, its instigator. Antichrist will be Satan's chosen man to wreak havoc upon all human beings who are left upon the planet when millions of people suddenly vanish from the face of the earth. This is known in the Holy Scriptures as the rapture of believers in Christ.”
"Apocalypse will then soon bring hellish terrors after Israel's leadership signs a security covenant with the satanic world leader.”
"Times will get so bad during the ensuing seven years of Tribulation that people who accept Christ for the salvation of their souls will suffer greatly. They will be in constant danger. Antichrist will murder them by the millions. And the satanic creature, who will hate Jews because God chose to send the Savior, the Messiah, into the world through the Jewish race, will make Hitler's slaughter of these people seem like child's play by comparison.”