Mark of the Beast

by Adolphus A. Anekwe

  “My sentiments exactly,” confirmed Nsi, who then concluded the interview.

  Meanwhile, Nsi’s Web site, so far had garnered close to 1 million visits. The Web site management issued a call for a massive demonstration at the test sites and a national demonstration in Washington, D.C., in two months.

  Within days of the posting, small scattered demonstrators could be seen at various test centers carrying signs that read:

  HLA B66 IS A LABEL.

  STOP HLA B66.

  Counterdemonstrations soon followed with signs saying:

  WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?

  ARE YOU AN ABHORRENT CLOSET CRIMINAL?

  7

  AN ESTIMATED QUARTER OF a million demonstrators gathered on the steps of the United States Capitol.

  Marching down Pennsylvania Avenue, they crossed over to Constitution Avenue, en route to the Washington Monument, where a stage had been set up for speakers to address the crowd. There were a few unknown speakers, but everyone was waiting for Dr. Nsi.

  He did assume the coveted title of the leader of the anti-HLA B66 movement. A few movie stars also addressed the crowd, urging them to resist the HLA B66 testing. Finally, Dr. Nsi took the stage, to the delight of the audience.

  “My fellow Americans,” began Dr. Nsi with no trace of Korean accent, “today, we are witnessing the beginning of a national persecution campaign unparalleled in American history.”

  There was a light applause.

  “If we let these people succeed, thousands, maybe millions, of innocent Americans will be labeled as criminals, and worst of all, they will be called sons and daughters of the devil.”

  There was a lot of booing and hissing from the audience.

  “Our task, therefore, is to make sure that these perpetrators do not succeed. How do we do that?

  “Simple—I want you to contact every congressman and senator in your state and urge them to withdraw the funding for the HLA project and, most importantly, to stop all testing.”

  * * *

  When Dr. Nsi returned from Washington, he was greeted by a phone call from the owner of Wild Bobby’s Auto Demolition Shop, Bob Wizard.

  “Hey there, Doc,” said Bob.

  “Hi, Bobby.” Nsi coughed, clearing his scratchy throat. Nsi had developed a slight, intermittent cough since his return from Washington, D.C. “What’s up?”

  “The … um … IRS and the state police were just here.”

  “The IRS! What do they want with you?”

  “Well, actually, they were looking at the records of some cars we’ve demolished for parts.”

  “That’s all?” Nsi breathed a sigh of relief.

  “They claim that some of those vehicles were declared stolen.” Bobby’s voice quivered a little on the other end.

  “Bobby, are you in a stolen car business?” Nsi asked. “I thought your business was up and up.”

  “How do you think we make all those profits? Sometimes, we commission cars.”

  “By commission, I assume steal, but what does that have to do with me?”

  “They also took a lot of records from the file cabinets, Doc. I don’t know exactly all that they took, but they went through all the file cabinets.”

  “How long ago did this happen?” Nsi’s voice changed.

  “About two weeks ago.”

  “What! Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “I couldn’t reach you, with you on TV … in Washington, and all.” Bobby sounded frantic.

  “Calm down, Bobby. Have you heard anything since?”

  “No, I haven’t heard anything yet.”

  “Well, let’s hope it’s nothing but a case of simple car thefts,” reassured Nsi.

  The phone rang again soon after Nsi hung up on Bob. It was Marion.

  “I just hung up on Bobby,” Nsi said, grimacing. “He was telling me that the IRS and state police raided his establishment.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “You know?” Nsi asked with a sense of betrayal. “Bobby called you?”

  “I just told you he did. He called me right after the raid, some two weeks ago. I was interviewed by the FBI and state attorney general’s office.” Marion somehow sounded nonchalant about the whole affair.

  “Wait!” Suddenly Nsi became suspicious. “Call me back on my cell. You have the number?”

  “Yes I do, why?” asked a surprised Moheri.

  “Just do it,” Nsi said.

  “Yes, sir,” Moheri replied, as he bowed out and then proceeded to call Nsi on his cell phone.

  “So, what do they want?” Nsi asked.

  “Look, they started asking about my relationship with Bobby, and I told them that he is a good friend, and sometimes we go golfing together.”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “Then they wanted to know if Bobby had demolished any cars for me, and if I had given him any cars to be demolished.”

  “Yes, yes … Well, have you?”

  “Calm down, of course I told them no,” continued Moheri, frowning. “Then they wanted to know what relationship I have with you.”

  “What…? What relationship with me?” Nsi asked, taking a deep breath.

  “Yes,” Moheri said, “and I didn’t know where that came from.”

  “But what did you tell them?”

  “I told them that, yeah, I know you, and that we’ve played golf together at Oak Ridge Country Club.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No, that’s not it. I remember they also asked what business relationship I have with you, and I told them none.”

  “You know there are some doctors here who do not like me, and they will stop at nothing to get at me,” rationalized Nsi. “They are fishing … Yes, they are fishing. I’m sure that if they come up with nothing from the raid at Bobby’s, they’ll have no case.”

  Moheri shook his head in disbelief, and then said, “Didn’t I tell you to lay low from that national and television stuff? But no, you must do it, so you said.”

  “Don’t worry, Marion,” reassured Nsi with another throat clearing. “I can take care of myself and the group.”

  Moheri did not fully understand what Nsi meant by the group. He had a puzzled look on his face as he hung up the phone.

  8

  AT THE DOCTORS’ LOUNGE at Baptist General Hospital early next morning, Dr. Nsi ran into Dr. Nwazobia. He could not resist an attempt to query Nwazobia whether he was the one that talked to the FBI.

  “Hi, Naxobia,” Dr. Nsi said.

  Dr. Nwazobia always took offense whenever his name was mispronounced, and he was usually quick to correct the enunciation of “Nwa” rather than “Na.”

  “Nwa … zo … bia, Dr. Nsi,” Nwazobia said.

  “Nwaxobia, I am sorry,” Nsi apologized. “I just wanna ask … I’m planning on taking off in two weeks for a week-long conference in San Francisco, and I was wondering if you can cover me for that period.”

  Why? Nwazobia wondered. This guy never asked me to cover for him before, and I know he knows that I don’t like him.

  “Sure,” Dr. Nwazobia, said, “just send me a list of your hospital patients before you leave. Do you want me to cover your emergency room calls also?”

  “Yes, you can, if it is no trouble,” Nsi said with a measured smile on his face.

  “No problem.” Nwazobia smiled back.

  Nsi turned and headed toward medical records. After two steps, he turned back again to Nwazobia.

  “Oh, by the way,” Nsi’s voice barely audible, “has anybody talked to you recently about me?”

  “Excuse me? No … About what?” asked a puzzled Nwazobia as he turned around to face Nsi again.

  “About anything,” Nsi said, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Not really,” said Nwazobia, frowning.

  “If they do, would you let me know?”

  “Sure will.”

  What’s D.E.S. up to now? Nwazobia wondered as he entered the doctors’ lounge.

  One of these days he is g
oing to find himself in real hot water.

  Two weeks after the conversation with Dr. Nwazobia, and twenty-four hours prior to Dr. Nsi’s departure to San Francisco, there was a knock at his front door, followed by the Big Ben sound of the doorbell.

  It was 4:30 in the morning. Hardly anyone in this neighborhood got disturbed this early. Nsi could not understand who … unless either Bob or Marion … No, they knew not to come to the house like this.…

  The doorbell rang again.

  “I’m coming!” shouted Nsi as he approached the door.

  “Can I help you?” asked Dr. Nsi, peeping through the thick glassy part of his exquisite front door.

  “This is the FBI. Can we come in?” said a man on the other side of the door, his badge flashing.

  “What is this about?” Nsi asked, half shouting, trying not to wake up anyone else.

  “Can we come in and discuss this inside, sir?”

  “What is it, honey?” his wife, Lynn, asked, coming down the stairs.

  “The FBI is here and I … I don’t know what they want,” Nsi said, voice quivering.

  “Well, let them in then, so we can see what they want,” said Lynn innocently.

  Opening the door, three men entered the house.

  Unknown to Nsi, his son was standing at the top of the stairs peeking at the scene.

  “Could you have your son go back to his room?” demanded the officer.

  “What is this about?” asked Lynn, frightened.

  “Please, ma’am,” the agent asked.

  “Come on … go back to your room, Jason, we’ll be there in a second.”

  Jason went back to his room and closed the door behind him.

  “Doctor and Mrs. Nsi, I am agent Henry Scott; this is Agent Watkins.” The lead agent pointed to the second man; both were dressed in dark suits.

  “This is Police Officer Eric Palmer,” continued the man who called himself Scott, pointing to a uniformed officer.

  Both men bowed politely.

  “What is this about?” Lynn asked frantically.

  “I have a warrant for the arrest of your husband, Dr. Nsi,” said Agent Scott. “We would like for you, Doc, to get dressed and come with us to the station.”

  All three men and Lynn looked at Dr. Nsi for a response.

  “Don’t I have the right to know what I have done?” asked Dr. Nsi, showing very little emotion.

  “Sir, you need to come with us so that we can sort all this out at the station.”

  Dr. Nsi went back to the bedroom and came out in less than ten minutes dressed in business casual attire, a blue jacket and gray flannel pants.

  “Could you turn around please, sir?” Agent Scott asked.

  Grudgingly, Dr. Nsi turned around, and he was handcuffed.

  “Is this all necessary? My husband is a much-respected physician and our attorney and others will hear about this,” Lynn threatened as her husband was led out.

  Officer Scott escorted Dr. Nsi outside to a waiting blue Ford sport utility vehicle, led Nsi to the passenger side of the backseat, and guided him into the vehicle.

  Lynn, dressed in her nightgown, which was covered with a white robe, watched in fear as the car drove off.

  9

  THE CHARGES AGAINST DR. NSI were overwhelming. Officer Watkins and the Lake County prosecutor read the charges against him.

  Apparently, ever since the disappearance of Nurse Fisher, the state attorney general’s office, in collaboration with the FBI, the Munster Police Department, and the Lake County Sheriff’s Department had set up a wiretap of Dr. Nsi’s home, office, and cellular phones. The transcripts were shown to Nsi.

  An initial search of Nurse Fisher’s home found some incriminating evidence, but not enough to convict. However, the tapes found at Bobby’s Auto Demolition Shop, after careful analysis at the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s crime laboratory in Chicago, clearly identified Dr. Nsi.

  All evidence was catalogued and cross-checked to be sure no mistakes were made. Dr. Nsi, they realized, was a prominent individual.

  He sat speechless throughout the entire presentation.

  Various media were quick to report the arrest, and they also reported the arrest of Dr. Moheri, a senior research scientist at Johnston’s Chemicals in Whiting, Indiana, and Bob Wizard of Wild Bobby’s Auto Demolition Shop in Lynwood, Illinois. All were charged with murder, conspiracy to commit murder, concealment, and possession of a deadly illegal chemical.

  In Nsi’s case, the murders of two other nurses in Munster, Indiana, were added to the charges. Bail was set at five million for Dr. Nsi and two million for the rest.

  Since Nsi had been tested and found positive for HLA B66, Governor Roderick of Illinois issued an executive order to test Moheri and Bobby Wizard for HLA B66.

  Surprisingly, Moheri tested positive, while Bobby Wizard did not.

  10

  DR. LEE KWON NSI’S TRIAL at the Federal Court Building in South Bend, Indiana, became a national event: the leader of the opposition, the head of the anti-HLA B66 movement, who himself had tested positive, was on trial for multiple murders. He was a respected physician, a man who had used his power and influence to gain fame by volunteering for the HLA test, a man who, after testing positive, declared his innocence. The evidence directly linking Nsi with the two murders in Munster, Indiana, was circumstantial at best, but Moheri agreed to testify and to cooperate with the federal investigation in exchange for a lesser sentence.

  Some of the phone conversations between Dr. Nsi and the perpetrators were presented in court and played on national television. The most incriminating and damaging evidence was the video recording of the death of Nurse Marjorie Fisher. Unknown to Moheri and Nsi, Wild Bobby had been video-recording all the happenings at his remote repair shop.

  Dr. Nsi, however, pleaded innocent to all charges, alleging that the phone conversations, the videos, and all the rest were doctored and engineered by the crooked federal authorities that were all in support of the HLA B66.

  Moheri was also found guilty of the murder of Tina Coffee. He was charged with unlawful manufacturing and distribution of a lethal substance, intimidation, and concealment of a dangerous material. He was sentenced to life imprisonment without parole.

  “Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge, after handing the piece of paper back to the bailiff.

  “Yes, your honor,” responded the lead juror.

  “What is your verdict?” asked the judge.

  There was absolute silence in the courtroom.

  “On the count of murder in the first degree, we, the jury, find the defendant … guilty.”

  “On the count of conspiracy to commit murder, we, the jury, find the defendant … guilty.”

  “On the count of aiding and abetting in the murder of Nurse Fisher, we, the jury, find the defendant … guilty.”

  Five other related charges against Dr. Nsi were presented, and he was found guilty on all counts. Dr. Nsi was sentenced to death by lethal injection and was immediately placed on death row.

  The entire trial of Dr. Nsi and his final conviction became a rallying cry around the nation for universal testing.

  Many on national television who had previously been sympathetic to Dr. Nsi’s pronouncement that HLA B66 was nothing but “hocus-pocus” began reassessing their views.

  Dickerson’s theory, on the connection between B66 and 666, became the cornerstone of many discussions on television. The United States Senate and Congress had steadfastly refused to debate mandatory testing of all Americans. On the NBC Sunday news show, Meet the Press, the major topic was about Dr. Nsi’s and Dr. Moheri’s HLA-positive tests.

  Senate Majority Leader Samantha Rodgers, a Democrat from North Carolina, opened the argument. “Let’s look at this for one second. The essence of mandatory testing is to be able to do something with those that test positive. What do you propose we do with the HLA B66-positive Americans?”

  “Senator Burns, what do you think?” The moderator
smiled at Mr. Burns.

  Senator Wendell Burns, a Republican from Utah, the ranking Republican on the Homeland Security Committee, leaned forward, smiled, and responded, “Look, it does at least gives us a road map to where we are going with this.”

  Senator Burns, tapping his right index finger on the table to elaborate every word, continued, “What I am trying to say is this … once these folks are identified, we can monitor them closely for any signs of deviant behavior. Just as we have been successful at monitoring terror suspects, we can apply the same mechanism here. You know the old saying, an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure.”

  “How would you feel,” retorted Senator Rodgers, with an angry look on her face, “if your son, daughter, brother, or sister tested HLA B66 positive, and the government of the United States tagged him or her like a dog to be followed in case he or she deviates, as my honorable friend suggested?”

  Sensing her anger, Burns quickly intervened, “I am not advocating that we tag people like dogs. We have mechanisms in place, which I am not at liberty to elaborate here, whereby we can follow individuals and monitor their behaviors without obstructing their daily lives.”

  “What then should we do with the rest of the world?” asked Senator Rodgers with a faint collegial smile on her face. “Or are we so arrogant to think that only Americans are HLA B66 positive?”

  “The way I see it, let’s take care of America first,” Senator Burns said, again pointing with his right index finger, “and let the other governments borrow whatever technology they want and test their citizens, and implement whatever laws they see fit.”

  “Some of your Senate colleagues are advocating an asylum-like city,” interrupted the moderator, searching for words, “to house all HLA B66 Americans, sort of like an open prison. What do you think of that, Senator Burns?”

  “I really don’t believe we need to go that far,” Senator Burns said, “because that in itself would be cruel and unnecessary punishment for somebody who has committed no crime yet.”

  “Senator Rodgers?” the moderator asked, looking for a rebuttal.

  Clasping her hands in a plea-like fashion, Senator Rodgers said, “That goes to the core of what I am trying to illustrate. Here we are in the twenty-first century, and we are back to the days of the Spanish Inquisition of 1478 all over again, except this time science has become the judge and jury.”