by Henry Hack
“Good guess,” John McKee said, “but is there anything in Peter’s communications or history that would allow us to get more specific?”
“There may be, “Danny Boyland said. “In his message after the meltdown at the Shoreham plant on Long Island he specifically mentioned the state of Wyoming as a model for all to look at regarding their use of energy.”
“Wyoming? That’s where that huge church movement is going on,” Spider Webb said.
“The Church of the Christian Brotherhood led by the Reverend Alton Phineas, I believe,” Walt Kobak said.
“What else do we know about this church and their beliefs?” Harry asked.
“I think they’re white Christian only,” Washington said. “Appears they don’t like us black folk, or any other folk that ain’t just like them.”
“Is it possible this church is providing aid and comfort to the Apostle?” McKee asked.
“Let’s see if we can determine that,” Walt said. “I’ll call Jim Driscoll and see if he can get our intelligence guys to put this on the top of their list.”
Five days later each member of the Task Force had a one-inch thick file presented to them. “Find a comfortable chair and read this through,” Walt Kobak said. “We should be able to finish it by lunchtime and discuss it after we eat.”
“Who wants to start?” Harry asked as they were all seated after the lunch break. “Were you all as amazed as I was?”
“Yes, indeed,” Mike Morra said. “It’s astounding what this Reverend has accomplished in such a short time. The church controls the state government and most of the population.”
“Too bad they are a bunch of bigoted, racist bastards,” Danny said.
“But can this movement be connected with the Apostle?” Spider Webb asked.
“Maybe,” McKee said. “Look at the timing. Within a year after Peter’s disappearance this group changes its name and becomes an official church with all the religious protection of the constitution, and expands like crazy – membership, money and political influence skyrocket.”
“But why are they so interested in clean energy?” Joe Ramos asked.
“A grand partnership between the Reverend Phineas and the Apostle Peter, that’s why,” Harry said. “Peter shows Phineas how to grow his church and expand in power and influence and Phineas pushes Peter’s environmental goals with their new wealth.”
“Can we assume Peter and his Disciple are now living somewhere under the protection of the Reverend Phineas in his compound near Cody, Wyoming?” Walt asked.
“Why not have Jim Driscoll call our friends in the CIA and see what we can see from the sky?” Alicia Johnson asked. “And just where the hell is this Cody anyway?”
“Nowhere near here, or Brooklyn,” Spider replied.
Over the next few weeks, unaware his home and the Reverend’s home located within the heavily guarded and fenced compound of the Church of Christian Brotherhood were under twenty-four hour satellite observation, the Apostle Peter was ready to put his plan into action. He called a meeting with the leaders of the New Vikings, Ron Ericsson and Edward Stoddard. His first question to them was, “Do you still have your old place in Slate Hills, Montana?”
“Yes,” Ericsson said. “I rent it out when I can, but its vacant now.”
“Good, keep it vacant for awhile. In fact, how about the four of us taking a ride up there in a few days for a vacation – a working vacation?”
“How hard will we have to work?” Stoddard asked. “And will there be vacation pay handed out?”
“The work will not be too hard, Edward,” the Apostle said with a smile, “and vacation pay – a great amount of vacation pay – will be distributed to you, Ron and a couple of dozen of your best New Viking warriors at the appropriate time.”
“I think we’ve gotten all we’re going to get from the spy in the sky,” Walt Kobak said. “If Peter is anywhere he’s in that house bristling with the satellite dishes.”
“Too bad we can’t zero in on the guys going in and out of there and possibly get an I.D. on them,” McKee said.
“Obviously, though,” Harry said, “the same two guys are always there and seem to stay there at night. The others frequenting the place appear to be visitors.”
“Do you think the Apostle and his Disciple live there?” Alicia asked.
“Seems logical,” Harry said.
“How about our assets on the ground?” Nick asked.
“We have an FBI agent who the Denver office re-located to Wyoming a year ago for the express purpose of joining the church to see if he could find out what they were up to,” Walt said. “So far, his reports indicate nothing we don’t already know. Although, he has personally met the Reverend Alton Phineas.”
“Inside the compound?” Morra asked.
“No, at the main church. It seems no one gets inside that compound, except the Reverend’s inner circle.”
“Suppose we do determine the Apostle and his Disciple are living in that house within the compound,” Ramos said. “How do we get them out?”
“Certainly not like we tried at Waco,” Walt said.
The word Waco conjured up a lot of memories among all those in the room, especially the FBI agents. And all those memories were bad. In 1993, agents from BATF attempted to execute a search warrant at a religious sect’s compound at Mount Carmel, nine miles outside of Waco, Texas. A gun battle erupted killing four ATF agents and six members of the Branch Davidian sect. A siege was initiated by the FBI which ended fifty days later when an assault was made on the compound. A fire resulted from the assault killing David Koresh, the sect leader, and seventy-six of his followers. Among those seventy-six were twenty children and two pregnant women. It was not one of the FBI’s most shining moments.
“Let’s put the notion of an all-out frontal assault on the back burner for now,” Harry said.
“Way back,” Walt said.
“Anything else?” Danny asked. “Is that all we have on the ground there – one lone FBI agent?”
“No,” Walt said, “we have several paid informants scattered among the various biker groups throughout the state. Their handlers are contacting them and evaluating their information. I expect a report from Denver in the next day or so.”
When the intelligence report arrived from the Denver office the following afternoon, only one item seemed valuable. “The informant was a member of the biker group called the White Stallions,” McKee said, “and they were invited by a biker group called the Red Satans to party with them at a local roadhouse. This party took place the night after the Idaho cabin exploded. Our informant says the leader of the Satans, Don Diablo, was flashing a lot of money around and buying drinks for everyone. When someone asked Diablo what they were celebrating, he said only one word – BOOM!”
“And this fucking informant doesn’t call his handler with that information until now?” Joe Ramos asked.
“He never called him,” Kobak said. “His handler called him at our request. These guys are not the brightest stars in the universe, you know, and he hadn’t even known about the Idaho event to put two and two together.”
“So you think these Red Satans were the ones that set up the bombs for the Apostle?” Lizzy asked.
“Could be,” Walt said. “Our other informants in the Wyoming biker community indicate the Red Satans are known for their expertise in fires and explosions. And it seems all the groups are in a loose coalition led by the New Vikings, a large biker group headquartered near the Reverend’s main church outside of Cody.”
“How many bikers would we have to fight, if it came to that?” Harry Cassidy asked.
“Thousands,” Walt said.
“So shall we plan our attack?” Lizzy asked.
“Not so fast, Agent Cassidy,” Harry said. “We have a lot of maybe’s, if's, possibly’s and could be’s. We don’t have anywhere near enough evidence to convince the US Attorney, or a judge, to issue us a search warrant, especially one on church property.”
“Ask Nick,” Harry said. “He always knows what to do in situations like these.”
“Nick?” Lizzy tentatively asked. “What do we do?”
Nick smiled and said, “Lizzy, we need a fuckin' lucky break.”
29
The break came a week later, but it was certainly not the lucky break they were hoping for – it was a disastrous break.
It had not been difficult for the Apostle’s scouts, in the persons of clean-shaven, well-dressed New Vikings, to discover the location of the Task Force headquarters in Washington. There were only two logical choices – The FBI headquarters building or the Homeland Security headquarters building. It had taken just two days of surveillance to spot the known members of the Task Force entering the Homeland Security offices and thereby allow the Apostle to begin accessing their computer network.
In the next two weeks the Apostle had prepared the Slate Hills mountain chalet to accommodate his “visitors,” installed another slave computer in a separate Montana location, and dispatched four six-man teams to locate and surveil their assigned targets throughout the country. When he was satisfied everything was in its place, he picked up his cell phone and dialed each of his team leaders in succession giving them the green light to proceed to their targets. When he disconnected he grinned and said to Wilt, “The game is afoot, Watson.”
Harry and Susan were watching the end of the ten o’clock news when the phone rang. It was Peggy and her voice was trembling. She said, “Harry, Patty is missing.”
“For how long?” he asked.
“She hasn’t been seen since she left school at 3:45 this afternoon. She’s not at her apartment. She was supposed to meet Ken – her latest boyfriend – at a restaurant in Allentown at 6:30. She never showed up.”
“Where’s her car?”
“Nowhere to be found. Not at school or near her apartment.”
“Peg, you have to call the local police right away,” he said as a sick feeling began in his stomach. “And tell them to contact the FBI.”
“Will they get involved being she’s twenty-six years old and only been missing a few hours?”
“Tell them who I am and what I’ve been working on, and I’m sure they’ll get involved right away. If not, have one of them call me.”
“Should I call Lizzy?”
“No, I’ll do that. Let’s hope Patty decided to go on a shopping spree at the mall and forgot all about her date with this Ken.”
“She seems pretty serious about him – and the mall closed an hour ago.”
“Okay, call the police now. Keep in touch. Call me every hour, or so. I don’t think either of us will sleep until we know Patty’s safe.”
“Okay,” Peggy said as Harry heard the choking sob right before she hung up the phone.
Just as Harry finished telling the story to Susan the phone rang again. Harry said, “Maybe Patty just came home.”
It wasn’t Peggy on the phone, it was Nick Faliani. “Harry,” he said, “one of my kids is missing.”
“Which one?” he asked as his shaky legs sought a chair.”
“Roseanne, the ten year old. She never came home from soccer practice. She was supposed to take the bus.”
“Have Teresa call the police right away. Tell her to tell them who you are and what you’re working on. Do that right now, then call me back. My Patty is missing, too.”
“Son-of-a-bitch. It’s that fuckin’ Apostle!”
“No doubt, Nick. This is no coincidence.”
By three o’clock in the morning, with all the Task Force members awake and next to their phones, two more children had been reported missing. John McKee’s seventeen year old son Kevin, who was supposed to be attending a martial arts session and expected to be home by midnight, and Walt Kobak’s twenty year old son Kent, who should have been sound asleep in his dorm room in State College, Pennsylvania. Neither one could be located.
By eight a.m., red-eyed and strung out on caffeine, the Task Force members assembled around the conference table and stared at the speaker phone, hoping against hope, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst for they all knew who they were dealing with. They waited in silence for there was nothing else they could do.
“Okay,” Peter said to Wilt, “I’m ready to make contact.” He dialed the Homeland Security building and asked to be put through to the Task Force. When the operator, who had been briefed, asked who was calling, he said, “Cassidy and Kobak will know who I am.”
The speakerphone rang on the conference room table causing all of them to jump. McKee pushed the button and said, “Task Force.”
“This is the Apostle Peter and you know exactly why I am calling. Are the fathers of the four kids we have in our custody all there? Please announce your presence for me.”
“Cassidy here,” Harry said and the three others followed in turn.
In anticipation of this conversation they had all agreed to remain calm and not threaten or antagonize the Apostle. It was one thing when they personally were battling him, but now it was their children’s lives hanging in the balance.
When they finished identifying themselves, Peter said, “This will be a no nonsense message. I will not lie to you or try to trick you. I do not plan to kill your children – I plan to kill the four of you. You know why. You four killed the Savior and the Apostle Mark, and you must now pay the price. Do you understand?”
Walt Kobak said, “Yes.”
“Good. Please turn your television on and set it to any channel.”
Danny turned on the TV set. The normal programming was on. “It’s on,” he said.
“Okay. The picture I’m going to put up for you to see will be a live feed. If you attempt to locate the signal source or the source of my telephone call which is an internet one, and if you are successful, you will find another slave computer in another cabin in some deep woods. With the two levels of security added back to the system, it should take you a minimum of fifteen days to locate it and by then this process will be over. By the way, that cabin is not wired with explosives. The computer will self-destruct with a minimal blast and no information will be left to allow a trace. So don’t waste your time.”
Just then the sound and picture on the TV went off and a black screen appeared. Twenty seconds later a picture appeared showing four people tied up in chairs and two masked men standing behind the chairs, each pointing an automatic weapon at the hostages. The camera zoomed in on the face of each occupant of the chairs. They were gagged, but not blind-folded and there was no doubt who they were.
“Are you convinced I have your children?” the Apostle asked.
“Yes,” Nick said barely able to restrain his anger.
“Okay, now here’s how you will be able to get them back unharmed, safe and sound and well-fed. It’s a simple process. All you have to do is follow my instructions to the letter. Do you four understand me?”
“We’re listening,” Harry said.
“Good, here’s how it will happen. You will all fly out to Denver – use an FBI jet which I’m sure will not be a problem – and register in the hotel using your own names. You will be called, one at a time, to leave the hotel and then you will be driven to the location and swapped for your child who will be safely released and transported back to the Denver airport. Simple, isn’t it?”
“Which hotel?” McKee asked.
“The Downtown Marriott. Give me your fax number and I’ll send all the details of the process.”
Walt spoke the fax number into the speakerphone and then said, “And when the switches are all complete, you plan to kill us?”
“Of course! That’s the whole point of this exercise.”
With that statement the live feed of the four children on the TV disappeared and the regular programming returned, the speakerphone clicked off and the fax machine began to hum.
“What do you think they will do?” Wilt asked
.
“I don’t think they have much of a choice but to comply precisely with the instructions,” Peter said. “I know if I had a child and she was in that predicament I’d substitute myself for her.”
“I’m sure you’re correct, but what concerns me is what happens after we release the kids. Will they have company around us?”
“In my faxed instructions I specifically mentioned they were to come alone and any attempts at following the car transporting them from the hotel to the location would result in the instant death of their child and themselves.”
“Sounds like you have all the bases covered,” Wilt said.
“I hope so. Let’s go have a chat with the kids.”
Peter and Wilt left an upstairs room in Ericsson’s large mountain chalet. When they came downstairs, Stoddard noticed their smiles and said, “I assume everything went okay?”
“Everything went perfectly, Ed,” Peter said to him and the group of New Vikings scattered in chairs about the great room. “I’ve told Ron to give each of the twenty-four men involved in the successful kidnappings a five-thousand dollar bonus.”
That brought smiles to the group which the Apostle widened when he said, “And the same bonus will be paid to all of you involved in the transportation and security functions here as soon as our mission is accomplished.”
“The four should be on their plane shortly,” Ericsson said. “As soon as they get in the hotel we’ll bring the first one out here. Maybe by five this evening you will have the pleasure of seeing Harry Cassidy walk through this door in handcuffs.”
“And then the fun, will begin,” the Apostle said.
“What choices do we have?” Walt Kobak had asked as soon as they read the single faxed sheet of instructions.