Oliver left the shop with his gift, and walked across the street, stopping to gaze at the Victorian style façade of the courthouse. Standing before the front entrance was a statue of a young man holding a rifle: a memorial dedicated by the Daughters of The Confederacy to those who fought in the Civil War, or as some called it “the great war of northern aggression.”
Inside the museum section of the lobby, Oliver examined the exhibits giving the history of Ellis County. This county prided itself as the Bluebonnet capitol of the world. The many Bluebonnet trails were shown on a large map of the county and were accompanied by paintings and photographs of their splendor. Another exhibit gave the history of Waxahachie, including some ideas as to the origin of the town’s name. Most experts believed it was a Native American name that meant calf’s tail. Ha! Now I’m going to have to find a small cow patty to take back to Max.
His mirth suddenly turned to shock as he began to examine the next exhibit. It was a grand sequence of photographs and newspaper headlines describing the planning and early construction phases of the nation’s most expensive science project, the Superconducting Super Collider. Surrounding Waxahachie a circular accelerator tunnel 54.1 miles in circumference had been planned. Excavation began in 1983 and had reached a length of 14.6 miles by 1993 when it was canceled for lack of funds. The 4.4 billion dollars originally budgeted had been expended, the cold war had come to an end, and tax payers saw no reason to continue the project for the sake of national security. This is the SSC facility Khalil said would eventually have replaced Fermilab as the National Center for High Energy Physics, had it not been canceled!
Oliver almost felt faint as he made his way quickly out of the courthouse and back to his car. For a long moment he sat in the front seat in the afternoon heat and stared ahead at the empty street, trying to calm himself, as his mind raced through all of the possible connections between this I&A assignment in Waxahachie and Peter’s death at Fermilab. Shaking his head violently to clear his thoughts, he dialed the encoded line to Bob Clark, his I&A supervisor.
When Clark answered Oliver said, somewhat harshly, “Clark, why didn’t you tell me that the Texas transmissions came from the site of the Superconducting Super Collider rather than Waxahachie! I’ve just come from a big exhibit of it at the courthouse! I’m beginning to think there’s a relationship between Peter’s death at Fermilab and this SSC site!”
“Calm down, Oliver. I thought you knew about the SSC location. I’m sorry if you were blindsided. We’ve already checked out that angle and dismissed it. You must also have learned that after the SSC closing in 1993, the tunnels were flooded for safety reasons, and the control and administration buildings were turned over to Ellis County. The county has since sold the entire complex to a chemical company that produces solid rocket propellant. It’s not been a government facility for over twenty years. If you’ve begun to find a link between these transmissions and Peter’s death, make sure you remain objective in your research. I chose you for this fact-finding mission because of your ability to see the big picture. If there’s a big picture that links these events together, then the threat of a widespread conspiracy against the United States is very serious. Understand also anyone close to this case, if it turns out to be a true threat, could also be a target. That is why I want you to be careful, and to maintain a very low profile; you’re not trained in law enforcement.”
“I’ll drive out to the SSC complex and begin playing tourist along the surrounding farm-to-market roads, but my head is still reeling from the sudden discovery of another Super Fermilab.”
As he drove out Old Buena Vista road to the southwest of town, Oliver was filled with a growing fear that he was in grave danger. He also began to fear for Peter’s team and for Alice.
In order to assure himself, he called Maxine. “Max, did you find any connections between the Father Abraham transmissions and the work at Fermilab?”
“Oliver, I ran a media search for events that may have triggered an ISIS initiative, following the patterns of similar communication in the past, and came up empty. However, in the targeted period of time, three days prior to the transmissions, there was the Public Television broadcast dealing with the ‘God Particle’ and concluding with Dr. Newbury talking about his work at Fermilab. This may be significant, and so I’m in the process of sending this information on to Director Clark and the federal agents investigating the death of your friend. By the way, I’ve been keeping up with their reports from the autopsy. It’s in the earliest stages, and so far they’ve found nothing suspicious.”
“Max, this leg of our Father Abraham conspiracy appears to be located at or near the site of the Superconducting Super Collider project that was intended to eventually replace Fermilab. I now believe there must be some connection between this leg of the conspiracy and Peter’s death.”
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions? How can Dr. Newbury’s death be connected to the three-way communication between Waxahachie, Jerusalem and Damascus?”
“Max, as Peter was dying he uttered to Father Ryan, ‘You must find the three.’ I have not mentioned this to Alice or Peter’s team.”
“Does Robert Swift, the investigator working on Peter’s case know about this?”
“I’m sure Father Ryan told him during his interview.”
“Do you think Peter knew about the Father Abraham conspiracy?”
“I think maybe he did. Now I’m being drawn into a possible terrorist cell, armed not with a weapon as you are, but with only a cell phone, pencil and notepad. I’m on my way into the dragon’s lair, and I haven’t a clue what the dragon looks like, or how to fight it.”
“Oliver, don’t fight it; just get its photo and keep out of trouble. I know how personal this is becoming for you, but if you let your feelings overcome your reason, you’ll endanger yourself and possibly others. I know for a fact Clark is watching your reactions carefully. He just told me about yesterday’s attack at your apartment, and admitted he came very close to calling you back to I&A. He needs your expertise, but doesn’t want to place you in danger. He’s just indicated that if he finds you are in over your head, he’ll pull you off this case as well as Dr. Newbury’s, leaving you on the outside looking in, neither able to help I&A or your friends at Fermilab.”
“He’s made that painfully clear to me, Max, but I keep sliding deeper and deeper into this interconnected web of frightening events, while still reeling from Peter’s death. But, you are right; I’ve got to be careful. I’ll try to move more slowly and calmly for the next day or two, and approach this mission with reason rather than emotion.”
Oliver thanked Maxine for her information and her concern, and signed off. Maxine sat at her desk in the I&A office staring at her cell phone and worrying about Oliver. If there’s a real threat in Texas, where this leg of the Father Abraham conspiracy seems to be, then Oliver may be in real danger. I wish the director had let me join him.
Oliver drove on toward the location of the now privately owned main site of the SSC. The scenery along Old Buena Vista road was much like that which he had seen on the north side of Waxahachie: Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrushes, pastures, ranch houses with out-buildings set back from the road, and stands of low scrub trees along creek beds and ditches. He began to notice, however, that many of the houses were large and expensive, looking more like country estates than functional ranch houses. The out-buildings were not barns, but four-car garages. Obviously the 4.4 billion U. S. taxpayer dollars had had a significant impact on the local economy.
Many locals had been put to work in the management and construction of this facility until it was ended in ’93. Certainly many of these government contractors and employees had retired wealthy here in the land that they loved. Some were even raising those two-toned designer cows from Scotland, the black ones with a solid white girth around their back and belly. They looked, for all the world, like an old style black and white police car, minus the red dome light of course.
When he re
ached the old SSC facility, he was immediately struck by its contrast to Wilson Hall at Fermilab. Rather than looking like a temple or a cathedral, the low, monolithic, two-story, central building with linear rows of windows resembled a prison. He had seen more attractive warehouses in the industrial districts of Chicago.
He turned right on Perimeter Road and drove around the complex, stopping to take a few photos with his cell phone. It was obvious this facility was now privately owned and produced hazardous material because of the signs, high fence, and security gates. The employee parking lot was filled with cars, indicating a large number of employees at work at the present time. There was nothing suspicious about the place that he could see. If in the future it’s necessary to check out this private company, a federal warrant will be needed.
The prison-like appearance of this facility, with its stark buildings and high security fence, brought back to Oliver an inner feeling of foreboding. He had been feeling this same darkness periodically since first learning of Peter’s death. He began to realize he had not really dealt properly with his loss. He knew that Alice had called on her strong faith in God and was comforted by this faith, along with the help and care of Father Pat. His own inner darkness had its origins in the choices he had made 20 years earlier, when he began to ignore his own faith while becoming an expert in religion. My first experience out of undergraduate school was a spiritual calling to become a minister. Now I feel alone and in need of one.
These thoughts turned in his mind as he drove, somewhat aimlessly, south of the SSC site along small farm-to-market roads, hoping that some ISIS threat would become obvious to him in the form of suspicious buildings or people. This was the general area from which the Texas leg of the three-way ISIS communication had come, according to Maxine, and Oliver was hoping to find something unusual. All the houses, barns, and garages looked the same, with no peculiar antennae or suspiciously large numbers of cars parked behind them. The normal countryside in no way suggested some evil conspiracy was afoot here in this Texas farmland. As he drove he was not so much thinking of cells of terrorists as he was thinking of his own pain from Peter’s sudden death.
Almost on cue, his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an old church building some distance off the road. Driven by a longing for the comfort he felt as a child in church, since this one resembled his childhood church in Cutten, he decided to stop. He approached it expecting it to be abandoned since much of what appeared to be a ghost town stood in ruins along either side of the old, broken pavement along which he slowly drove. Instead, he saw that two cars and a pickup were parked neatly behind the attached wing to the old frame sanctuary.
It appeared to be an active church, with people engaged in some church activity, and he felt comfortable in parking in the front and approaching the main entrance into the sanctuary. The door was unlocked and the church itself appeared to be well-kept and regularly cleaned. He found a pew near the back and sat, taking in the simple trappings of the kind of church he had known as a boy but had shunned for many years now. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he allowed himself to be overcome with grief at Peter’s death. He bowed his head and began to pray, struggling with his doubt in, but need for, the grace of God. As he prayed with tears streaming down his face he was vaguely aware of the faint murmur of men’s voices from a room in the annex.
Four men had gathered in this small church annex, in what Oliver assumed was a mid-day prayer meeting. They were led by the Reverend Benton Spencer, a man in his late sixties with carefully styled silver hair and a charismatic presence. He paced slowly back and forth as he addressed the three men seated before him. Transfixed, they watched his expressive face and listened to his resonant, flowing monolog as he again reminded them of their Christian duty to combat evil in a world growing more and more corrupt.
“Satan has been released from his thousand year bondage and is gathering together all those who bear his mark. He had anointed Dr. Peter Newbury as his high priest of the satanic temple called Fermilab. We have all heard his public sermons, calling all mankind to worship the God Particle. Surely he was the false prophet the Bible warned against. Even though we have now conquered this high priest, Satan is now bringing forth into his other temples called CERN and The Dark Sector Lab, those bearing his mark. They now begin to gather in order to worship this God particle idol. Satan will soon gather Gog and Magog from the four corners of the earth, and bring their multitude together to strike down the righteous. The Holy Scriptures of the world religions have all foretold these final days of judgment. We, the righteous, must take up the sword of truth and combat the Evil One.”
“Amen and Amen,” answered his three disciples.
Forrest Pierce, the better dressed, spoke for the three. “We’ve begun the struggle against sin and idolatry, for I have made the first strike. Your expert guidance has carried us safely through the fight against the evil one. We shall prevail in our efforts until the final judgment.”
“You must be careful not to become too confident, Brother Pierce. The Devil always brings down the self-confident; be very vigilant in the coming days and keep me abreast of all the evil doings that you see.”
“I will keep you informed, but now I must get back to the lab before I am missed,” said Forrest, as the four left the room of the old church and began to walk to their cars.
Barry Smith, one of the two local men, who were climbing into the pickup, noticed Oliver’s car parked in front of the church. “Who’s that?” he asked as he pointed.
“I don’t know,” answered the Reverend Spencer, “but by the looks of the rental, probably another pair of tourists looking for Boz, the other ghost town near here that’s listed on the local travel guide. I’ll go and welcome them to my church; maybe they are believers.”
As Oliver was in thoughtful prayer for Alice and Peter’s team and seeking to revive his trust in God, he could not suppress the fear he still felt. The attack at his apartment added to his feeling of danger and he even imagined he had just caught a whiff of that same aftershave his attacker had worn. The soft murmur of voices from the annex now became louder. The men were leaving their meeting and he heard the words of a young man saying, “…but now I must get back to the lab before I am missed.” Maybe he worked for the nearby rocket fuel company and had taken a lunch break to attend a prayer meeting. The thought was reassuring.
After some minutes, a tall gray-haired gentleman entered from a door at the front of the sanctuary and approached him. Smiling warmly and extending his hand, he said, “Welcome to the Trinity River Bible Church. I see that you are grieved and in prayer. May I be of assistance and pray with you?”
Oliver was immediately struck by the man’s presence and resonant voice. Here is a skilled orator and charismatic preacher. “Thank you Reverend. Indeed I was in prayer, drawn, in my time of trouble, to this church which reminded me of one in my childhood.”
The Reverend stood in the aisle, and placing his hand on Oliver’s head began to pray. “Lord, drive the demons of doubt and fear from this man’s soul. Keep him in your protective arms, for the day of reckoning is near.”
Without giving his name, Oliver thanked the minister for his kindness as he walked with him to the entrance. The distinguished preacher stood in the entrance and waved as Oliver got into his car and drove back toward the highway. Oliver could not help but think back to his first year in divinity school. He had a strong mental picture of the kind of preacher he had hoped to be; one with a charismatic presence and a deep resonant voice like this man. Surely he must have a following. He seems to be well educated, but why is he preaching at such an isolated, ghost town church?
Meanwhile, Forrest Pierce, troubled by the presence of a stranger in the church while he had been meeting with Benton Spencer, had decided to find out for himself who was there. After all, he was the one who had made the greatest commitment to the growing struggle against Satan, and was now in the greatest danger. He had parked partway down a long, tree-lined dr
iveway to a nearby ranch-house where he could see the front of the church in the distance. He watched as two figures emerged from the church, shook hands and waved to one another as the stranger went to his car. It was too far away for Forrest to get a good look at the stranger, but he was clearly a well-dressed man, somewhat shorter than the Reverend. After this stranger drove past, Forrest pulled out on to the roadway and followed at a distance.
As he drove away from the strange old church, Oliver was still puzzling over the charismatic minister’s choice of such an isolated location for his church and ministry. The words on the marquee and the nature of his prayer had perhaps provided a clue. The marquee read, “Who can defeat the beast?” followed by two scripture references, “EX20, RV20”. Oliver began to realize this preacher was obsessed with the old style eschatology: preaching hell-fire and damnation in order to bring the faithful together out of fear of the final judgment. This approach to evangelism had been somewhat successful during times of great national stress such as the great world wars and the depression years; but now during happier times, especially here in the region surrounding Waxahachie, where billions of dollars were poured into the local economy, such gloom and doom would fall on deaf ears.
A minister living in the past, preaching in a ghost town church, thought Oliver as he drove back to his motel.
He went to the motel office to buy a local newspaper. As he paid the old clerk, he asked him about the ghost town and its church.
The clerk replied, “Oh, that’s all that’s left of Trinity Junction. Them government folks bought up the whole thing to make way for the big tunnel. Did the same thing to Boz, just down the road. That’s old Preacher Benton Spencer. They paid him a pile o’ money for the church and his place, but he’s been a’ preachin’ ever since, that them government folks were really workin’ with the Devil.”
Three Page 7
