“Today, it’s not about the kids --- it’s about the dollars.
“Let me tell you another story that I hope will scare the pants off of you.
“In California, legislators, paid off by Merck Pharmaceuticals, passed a law that the Governor signed, allowing children over the age of twelve to be given the HPV vaccine without their parent’s knowledge or consent. If you don’t believe it, the names of the legislators and the amounts they were paid are listed on the Internet.
“Folks, it’s all about the almighty dollar and if you’re not careful it could happen right here in River City!
“Like I said to the gentleman, this is not about condemning all vaccines. It’s about being aware of what is happening behind your back. It’s about your ability and freedom to make these medical choices for yourselves and not have them shoved down your throat.”
Then another voice from the crowd. “Everything you’ve said so far is about the kids. What about flu shots? I’ve been told to get one every year.”
Arnie turned around and Nick handed him a sheet of paper.
He glanced briefly at the page. “Yes, sir, I’ll bet you have. U.S. Senators and Representatives and the bureaucrats that run government agencies like the FDA and CDC receive roughly nineteen million dollars a day from lobbyists, many of whom work for the large drug companies.
“The flu shot fiasco is one of the biggest hoaxes ever perpetrated on the American public.
“In spite of what the CDC says on their website, independent studies have shown that the flu vaccine, whether in the shot or nasal form, is worthless at best and should be avoided. Not only are they loaded with toxic chemicals including mercury and aluminum, but many people come down with the flu shortly after receiving the shot. This is because it actually weakens the immune system, making the person more predisposed to the illness.
“And how about this, a leading immunogeneticist has reported that individuals receiving five consecutive flu shots are ten times more likely to get Alzheimer’s Disease than if they had none.
“But that’s okay with big pharma because, like the HPV vaccine, all those flu shots bring them about fifteen billion a year.”
I thought I heard the guy in the crowd mumble, “Son-of-a-bitch!”
I saw Arnie take a deep breath and his mood became very somber.
“I want to thank you all for listening to me rant and rave today. If you take anything away from here, I hope it’s that you need to watch and to be aware of what’s happening in our world. The days are long gone when we can trust that those who we have chosen to represent us are acting in our best interests. It’s up to each of us as concerned citizens to educate ourselves and hold those in power accountable for their actions.
“I want to close by asking a very brave young woman to share her tragic story with you. Please listen carefully.”
He extended his hand and a woman about thirty-five took his place on the step stool.
For the next fifteen minutes, she told the audience how her twelve-year old daughter had been injected at school with the first dose of the HPV vaccine.
Within fifteen minutes, the girl collapsed and died on the way to the hospital. Her daughter was just one of forty-nine children to die as a direct result of the vaccine and yet, these deaths as well as thousands of others who developed less life-threatening symptoms, were being totally ignored by the CDC which continues to forge ahead with its plan to immunize every child in America.
When she had finished, the solemn crowd slowly dissipated.
When nearly everyone was gone, I approached Arnold and Nicholas.
“Hi, I’m Walter Williams,” I said extending my hand. “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your remarks today. It certainly gives us something to think about.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. I just hope people were listening and getting the message.”
“Well, I certainly did. Do you work for a company or something?”
“Heavens no! We’re just a group of concerned citizens trying to wake up the American public and make them aware of what’s going on. What do you do, Walt?”
“Me? Well, not much of anything now. I was a realtor for thirty years, but I retired a couple of years ago. Got lots of time on my hands. That’s how I stumbled onto your presentation today.”
Arnie looked at Nick, then back at me. “So you really dug the message today?”
“Sure did. I haven’t trusted our politicians for years and I never trusted the big drug companies. Take that Rolotor thing that happened last fall. All that collusion between Putnam Pharmaceutical and the FDA. Shameful!”
“Look,” Arnie said, “If you’re really interested in this stuff and you have some time to spare, a group of us are getting together tomorrow evening. We’d love to have you come and sit in.”
I thought about it for a minute. I didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Uhhh, maybe --- yeah, I might like to stop by and check things out. Where and when?”
“Seven o’clock in the basement of the Community Christian Church.”
“I’ll be there. See you then.”
As I walked away, I was totally confused. These guys certainly didn’t fit the profile I had always imagined a terrorist to be, and even more confusing, their meeting was being held in the basement of the church of my good friend, Pastor Bob.
CHAPTER 5
On the way home I called Ox to let him know that I had made contact with Arnold and Nicholas and that I had been invited to a meeting the next evening.
Our arrangement was that Ox would pass along the information to Mark Davenport at Homeland Security.
Now I had another hurdle to jump --- telling Maggie that I was about to become associated with a group of suspected terrorists whose goal was the destruction of our country.
Maggie had been okay with my previous assignments, even enjoying the ones where she got to help transform me into a drag queen and most recently, a candy-striper.
But this was entirely different.
More than once we had watched appalled as the ten o’clock news had showed videos of bodies being carried away from bombing sites throughout the world.
She wasn’t going to be happy with this.
Maggie had prepared a wonderful dinner and I didn’t want to spoil it, so we just chit-chatted about her day and a whole bunch of other stuff that I didn’t give a duck’s fart about, but to which I listened intently.
Finally, when dinner was over, we took our glasses of Arbor Mist to the living room.
Our usual routine was to vege out in front of the TV, losing ourselves in weighty, intellectual programs like Two and a Half Men.
Maggie reached for the remote, but I put my hand on her arm.
“We need to talk.”
“Sure, what about?”
“My current assignment.”
She could tell by my expression that what was coming wouldn’t be pleasant.
She sat quietly while I told her the whole story including the sudden appearance of my half-brother.
When I was finished, I noticed that her eyes had become moist and even though she was trying to hold it back, a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Oh, Walt, “I’ve been waiting all my life for what we have right now --- a beautiful home, friends and family who love us and the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.
“We haven’t even been married a year yet and I don’t want to lose any of that --- especially you!”
I patted her hand. “I understand and I feel the same way, but there may be men out there who are determined to take all that away from us and from everyone else too.
“If we want to preserve the good life we have, someone has to step up to meet the challenge.”
“But why does that someone have to be you?”
For the life of me, I couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer to that question.
I had asked myself the same thing over and over, “Why does Lady Justice need a sixty-eight yea
r old retired guy to step in and save the world?”
With all the younger, stronger, able-bodied men out there, “Why me?”
Maggie could see that I was committed to the assignment and to her credit she didn’t try to talk me out of it.
She looked me straight in the eye, “Promise me that you will be careful and not take any stupid chances.”
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
As soon as the words escaped my lips, I knew that probably wasn’t the best thing I could have said.
“Ooops! Sorry, I ---”
“I don’t know why I even worry about you. The Good Lord takes care of children and idiots!”
I figured I probably fit into both categories.
“Sit back and relax,” she said. “I have a special treat for you.”
That got Mr. Winkie’s attention right away and I could tell that he was arousing from his restful slumber.
“I stopped by the Cheesecake Factory today and picked up your favorite, key lime pie.
Suddenly, Mr. Tastebud reared his head and Mr. Winkie ducked away pouting.
“Sounds great!” I said, trying to decide which of my primal urges to follow.
“I’ll just go into the kitchen and slice a couple of pieces for us.”
She had just been gone for a few minutes when I heard a blood-curdling scream.
“AAAAAEEEEEE! WAAAAAAALT!”
My first thought was that Maggie had sliced her finger cutting the cheesecake. My next thought was that the terrorists had figured out that I was a shill and they had come to eliminate the threat.
I grabbed my gun from its holster and ran to the kitchen prepared to save hearth and home from the savage hordes.
I burst through the door and knelt down sweeping the room with my .22 pea-shooter.
Seeing no bearded Muslims in my kitchen, I lowered my weapon.
“Maggie! What on earth ---?”
She just pointed with a horrified look on her face.
“B --- B--- BUG!”
I looked and sure enough, a lone cockroach was meandering across our kitchen floor.
I was immediately filled with both relief and anger.
“Maggie, you scared the crap out of me.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Maggie has always hated bugs of any kind and description.
I couldn’t really say too much because I have the same phobia with spiders.
My first inkling that my sweetie was insectophobic was when we took a trip to New Orleans.
We found a nice little cottage in Beaudreau’s Cozy Cabins. When we flipped on the lights on our first evening, roaches big enough to carry away a small dog scurried into the cracks and crevices.
It took a full hour before Maggie quit shaking and we went to bed with every light in the place going full blast.
Some couples look forward to taking walks on balmy summer evenings, but not us, especially under the streetlights with thousands of little creatures buzzing about, and certainly not in June when the dreaded June bug makes his appearance.
Maggie was still cowering in the corner when I dispatched the little buggar with the heel of my shoe.
I always hate the ‘crunch’ they make when they’re squashed.
My twenty years as a landlord had desensitized me to the nasty little creatures and Willie and I had devised all kinds of ways to make their lives miserable.
They didn’t faze Mary Murphy, the tough-as-nails manager of my Three Trails Hotel, at all.
More than once I’d be having a conversation with her when she would see one of the offending creatures crawling up the wall.
Invariably, she would say, “Hang on a minute, Mr. Walt,” and smash the little fellow with the palm of her hand, followed by, “Got the son-of-a-bitch!”
I was getting ready to begin my Maggie-bug intervention when we heard a pounding on the door.
I opened the door and every other occupant in the building was standing in the hall.
Dad spoke first, “Jesus, Walt! Is everyone okay up here? I mean --- we all heard the scream.”
“We’re fine, Dad. Maggie just saw a bug.”
Bernice had a startled look on her face, “A thug! Maggie saw a thug? Where?”
Obviously Bernice wasn’t wearing her hearing aid.
“No, Bernice!” Dad said. “Not a thug. A BUG!”
Bernice nodded and I noticed that Maggie’s outburst must have interrupted an intimate moment between her and my father.
Her robe parted briefly and I saw the lacy thong that Dad had gotten for her Christmas present at Victoria’s Secret.
I quickly averted my eyes and tried to erase the image from my mind.
“Wot kind o’ bug was it? Willie asked. “I heared the racket all de way down in de basement.”
“Cockroach,” I replied.
Then the Professor had to put in his two cents worth, “You know those are remarkable creatures. If you cut off their heads, their bodies will live another nine days before they starve to death.”
“No problem this time. I squashed him.”
Bernice made a grimace.
Jerry the Joker had been quiet as long as he could and my ‘squashed’ comment was all the opening he needed.
“That reminds me of a limerick I heard once.
There once was a cockroach named Louie
Whose kitchen antics were screwy.
But he gave him his due
With the heel of his shoe
And left a grease spot quite gooey!”
Maggie had been listening from the kitchen door as we all discussed her frightening experience.
“You’re all just gross! And those bugs are gross!”
It didn’t intimidate Jerry.
“There once was a cockroach named Fred
Who ate a big chunk of her bread.
So she gave him a whack
And he flipped on his back
And suddenly poor Fred was dead!”
I could tell that this impromptu meeting was going nowhere so I thought it was time to send everyone on their way.
“Thank you all for coming. I appreciate your concern, but I think everything’s under control now and you can go back to whatever you were doing.”
I looked at Bernice and immediately regretted that last statement.
“Willie, how about getting some of your super-duper bug spray and giving the kitchen a shot and tomorrow spray the whole building?”
“Sho nuff. I don’ want no more o’ dem screams. It scared de bejezzus out of me!”
After the kitchen had been sprayed and Maggie had calmed down, I said, “Okay, I’m ready for some of that cheesecake. How about you?”
“Walt, are you serious? I couldn’t eat a bite after seeing that ‘thing’!”
So off we went to bed.
It had been a disappointing evening for both Mr. Winkie and Mr. Tastebud.
CHAPTER 6
I had stewed around the whole day worrying about my first meeting with the suspected terrorists.
On the one hand, what I had seen at the J C Nichols Fountain had seemed harmless enough, unless of course, you were with the CDC, FDA or a salesman for a drug company.
But on the other hand, Mark Davenport and Homeland Security had been concerned enough to come to Kansas City to initiate an undercover operation.
The other thing that made me less anxious was the fact that it was in the Community Christian Church.
While I’m not a regular churchgoer --- actually, I guess I’m not even an irregular churchgoer, but if I were, it would be to this congregation.
The reason is because of Pastor Bob.
For some reason, I just can’t relate to the ‘holier-than-thou’ crowd. I’ve often remarked that if that’s who I would have to spend eternity with in heaven then I’d just as soon be somewhere else.
Pastor Bob is a down-to-earth guy and his message is clear --- ‘Be good, do good and don’t sweat the small stuff!’
On m
ore than one occasion, when faced with moral dilemmas more difficult than I could handle on my own, his words of wisdom had pointed me in the right direction.
I parked in the church lot and naturally, Pastor Bob was the first person I saw.
“Well good evening. How’s my favorite cop?”
“Oh crap!” I thought. “I’m supposed to be undercover and the first guy I see rats me out!”
I quickly pulled Pastor Bob aside.
“Reverend, do you trust me?”
“What? Is this a trick question? Remember, I’m quite aware of your vices and shortcomings.”
“I’m dead serious. I’m going to ask something of you and I’m going to ask you to trust me and not ask me any questions.”
He could definitely tell that I was serious.
“Sure, Walt. Whatever you need --- as long as it’s not immoral or illegal or both.”
“I assure you that it is neither. Please, until I tell you differently, I’m NOT Walt the cop. I’m just plain old Walt the retired realtor. Can you help me with that?”
“Sure, no problem, but may I ask what you’re doing here tonight?”
“Let’s just say that I heard Arnold’s little speech at the Plaza fountain yesterday and it piqued my interest.”
“Then we’d better go find a seat because I think he’s about ready to begin.”
We entered the auditorium and I was surprised at what I saw.
There were maybe thirty people seated in metal chairs facing a lectern and an overhead screen.
I’m not sure what I was expecting to see, but as I looked around, there were no guys in robes and long black beards, no turbans and no one looked anything like Ahab the Arab.
These were just ordinary folks that you would see at the supermarket or in a movie theatre.
Arnie and Nick entered from an office on the far side of the auditorium. Arnie took his place behind the lectern and Nick sat in a folding chair behind him.
His first words seemed pretty innocuous, “How many of you like cookies?”
Nearly every hand in the room went up. I’m guessing they were hoping refreshments might be forthcoming after the meeting.
[Lady Justice 08] - Lady Justice and the Watchers Page 5
