If there was one thing Cal Rutland was good at, it was reading people. Karen’s nonchalant manner told him that Loo’s hunch was right. Wells was far too dangerous now. He and the girl had to be eliminated.
Within an hour, he was meeting with Amir Razzak in his office. Rutland knew it was the one place that was totally secure. “I believe Wells has become a liability we cannot afford,” Rutland told Razzak as soon as their meeting began.
“How so?” the dark man questioned as he pushed some papers into his briefcase. He was preparing to go to Israel to oversee the occupation. He would have preferred to postpone the problem with Wells, but he knew that Rutland had proved his worth many times in the last three years in analyzing people and situations.
“Dr. Loo is certain that Wells is communicating with someone outside the system.”
“Can he prove his accusations?” Razzak asked casually. “You know how these academic people are. They excel at professional jealousy above all else. Perhaps he wants to get rid of Wells so he can be the guru.”
“I have considered that,” Rutland said as he reached for the documents Loo had given him. “Dr. Loo has conclusive evidence that someone altered the main system’s program. He is certain that Wells has enabled the Christians to use the system. We won’t be able to control access until all of the ID scanners are in place.”
With that comment, Razzak’s eyes narrowed. “He allowed the Christians to use the system after I ordered them eliminated?”
“Yes. Dr. Loo took a card from one of the people we picked up and ran it through the system. It was processed normally, but the transaction never appeared on any permanent files. Once the name was put into the detention file, showing the person was arrested, the system rejected his card. Apparently Wells enables the users until we arrest them, and then he disables their files. Until they are actually arrested, they have free access to the system and virtually unlimited credit.”
“Kill him immediately!” Razzak ordered. His rage was becoming uncontrollable. Even the normally stoic Rutland felt a chill when the leader became this agitated. “Control of the Christians is essential to our plans,” he ranted as he swept the desk clear and everything crashed to the floor.
The tiny device planted inside the stapler on Razzak’s desk stopped working when it hit the floor, but the listener had heard enough. She quickly closed up the portable receiver that was concealed in the briefcase and headed for the basement.
Amelia Durant had been born thirty years earlier, Shanon Vinetta, daughter of Jewish parents, in Israel. At seventeen, she had been recruited by the Mossad, the Israeli secret police, to be trained as an undercover agent in America. Once she accepted the assignment, she was transported to the United States, placed with a family in New York whose daughter had been killed in an auto accident ten years earlier, and raised as an American citizen; all records on Amelia Durant had been altered to make her and Sharon Vinetta one and the same. The Mossad was clearly as efficient as the Society and had long known the future goals of the group.
Amelia was educated in the best schools, trained in cryptology, and positioned in Washington, where she quickly worked her way inward and upward. She was recruited into the Society and had been instrumental in securing essential records for them. At the same time, her nearly perfect recall allowed her to keep the Mossad informed of agents the Society planted in Washington and Israel. Over several years she had been instrumental in compiling a profile on the Society and its ultimate goals. Now two shadowy organizations were locked in mortal combat for control of the United States and, ultimately, the world.
Amelia reached the basement. As she approached the hallway leading to Wells’ office, she took out a small cylinder and concealed it in the palm of her hand. At the door, the guard stopped her abruptly.
“What do you want here?” he demanded, his hand resting on the holstered weapon inside his coat.
“I’m looking for the records office,”Amelia said meekly. “Isn’t it here anymore?”
“No!” the guard answered sharply. “This area is off limits to all unauthorized personnel.”
“I’m sorry,” the young woman said, appearing to be very flustered. “I’m new here and I was told records was here in the basement.”
Softening his previously stern look the guard said, “Someone was putting you on. The storage records were removed from this area more than two years ago.”
“Well, thank you,” Amelia responded in a small, quiet voice. “I’ll just have to find it.”
As she turned to go, she dropped the stack of files she was carrying and let out a soft moan, “Oh, no. I did it again.”
“Here, I’ll help you,” the guard offered as he bent down to pick up some of the scattered files. As the woman brushed by him, she touched the concealed cylinder to his neck and pressed the trigger. Instantly the startled guard reached for his gun, but even as his mind told him he had been duped, his muscles refused to obey his commands. He slumped to the carpeted floor, unconscious.
The young woman deftly punched in the codes to give her access to Wells’ work area. As she entered the room, she put her finger to her lips signaling Karen to be quiet. She motioned for Jeff and Karen to follow her.
Jeff was naturally cautious and started to say something. Again Amelia frowned and put her finger to her lips, and at the same time shook her other hand at Wells. She drew her index finger across her throat. She handed Karen a short, handwritten note from her father saying, “Karen, follow the person who gives you this note without question or hesitation. It means your lives are in imminent danger.” Karen looked up from the note and signaled for Jeff to follow them as she moved quickly toward the door.
Jeff took another few seconds to type in some final instructions—the last commands to activate a hidden program he had been developing since they had received Dr. Eison’s message. He wished he had enough time to verify it, but the frantic look on the face of the young woman told him he didn’t. He issued the shutdown command to disable his terminal and then followed the two women out the door.
Once they were in the hallway the young woman said, “You must do exactly as I tell you if we are to have any chance of escaping. The security police will be coming after you any minute. If we’re not out of the White House before they discover you’re gone, we won’t have any chance at all.”
“The guard . . .” Karen was startled when she saw him slumped down on the floor. “Is he—”
“He’s just unconscious,” the woman said sharply. “Help me pull him inside the door. It may give us a few more minutes until they come.”
“I can help,” Jeff said as he punched in the access code and then added in a series of new numbers.
Seeing the puzzled look on Karen’s face, Jeff said with a sly grin, “I reprogrammed the system to allow me to change my access code. The system’s a lot more versatile than anyone else realizes.”
Moving rapidly toward the security elevator, the young woman said, “My name is Amelia. I’m part of the group helping to restore our government to its people. There will be a limo waiting in the garage. As soon as we call the security elevator, we will have two minutes to get away from the garage. Security will know something is wrong when the elevator is used without the proper access codes for today.”
“I wish you had told me,” Jeff said as they ran. “I could have programmed the system to ignore the call.”
“No time.”The young woman panted as they ran. “Things were moving too fast. We had hoped to make contact before the actual move, but Rutland has orders to eliminate you immediately.”
“But why?” Karen gasped as they ran faster. “Jeff is still needed.”
“They found out you allowed the Christians to continue using their Data-Net cards,” Amelia replied as she got her second wind.
Karen glanced over at Jeff, who was also winded. “Too much sitting at a computer day after day,” he said as he sucked in the oxygen his lungs craved. “I promise to exercise more, if I get
a chance.”
They reached the elevator and Amelia punched in the only access codes she knew—Vice President Grant’s emergency code. The monitor responded: “Confirmed: Access Vice President.”
“The vice president?” Jeff commented as he arched his eyebrows in surprise, as well as admiration.
“Yes. He’s one of us; he wants the government back in the voters’ hands. He could have been a great help to us, but I’m afraid when they discover he has helped us, he’ll be compromised.”
“Not if you can get me to a computer and access to the Internet,” Jeff said confidently.
“You can change the internal codes?” Amelia asked in amazement.
“There is really nothing you can’t do with a computer system like Data-Net. Maybe too much, in fact,” he added. “Dr. Eison was right; it’s too much power to trust to anyone, especially politicians.”
“This is more than politics,” Amelia added as the elevator doors opened. “This is evil against good.”
Jeff half expected the elevator to be full of secret service men. His mind conjured up images of the men who had brought him back from California. They would not hesitate to kill, if so ordered. That much he knew. But the elevator was empty. As they stepped inside, Amelia punched the button labeled “Official Parking.”
In the security control room, the signal to call the elevator had triggered an immediate reaction. The guard assigned to White House security systems said, “Somebody called the security elevator. Are any of the ‘big shots’ signed out to leave the building?”
The other guard glanced at the computer terminal and replied, “Not on my log.”
“Well, someone called the elevator. Better check it out.”
“May be a scheduled maintenance check,” the other man suggested. “I’ll call and verify.”
It took a few seconds to reach the day shift supervisor. When he came on the line, he confirmed with several select words that his crew didn’t schedule maintenance in the White House without checking with security first. As he was slamming the receiver down, the guard heard him mutter, “Idiot!”
The security guard put several processes in motion at once. He punched the silent alarm button, signaling all the other guards that a breach of White House security was in progress. Then he turned to his companion and said, “I’m headed to the garage. It wasn’t maintenance.” After turning the console over to his partner, he hurried out the door. He knew that it would take at least five minutes for any of the other guards to reach the garage deck; he could be there in less than two.
The ride up to the VIP garage level seemed like an eternity to Jeff. He could envision the events taking place as soon as the elevator was called. With all the recent trouble, he had no doubt the guards would shoot first and then try to sort it all out later. He knew their lives would be determined by a minute either way now.
The elevator stopped at the garage level, and the doors retracted into the walls. As they stepped out, Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. “No guards,” he announced.
“There will be soon,” Amelia warned. “Follow me, quickly!”
Jeff and Karen followed as she dashed toward one of the limos. She had a set of keys ready and stopped in front of one of the limousines— a Lincoln. Jeff heard the click as the electronic locks responded to the magnetic key.
“Get in!” Amelia commanded as she slid into the driver’s seat. Jeff and Karen scrambled into the back seat. Amelia had already donned a chauffeur’s cap and was starting the limo.
The guard was still making his way down to the first level. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He had tried to use the security elevator because it would be faster than going around to the stairs. But Amelia had flipped the “hold” switch as she exited the elevator. That small detail had saved their lives.
When the guard hit the crash bar on the door to the garage, the black car was already turning the corner. Puffing, he raced into the garage. He heard the squeal of tires but saw nothing of the car or its occupants. He stopped a moment to catch his breath; then he called the security desk to report.
When the alarm sounded, Cal Rutland saw it on his own security console, a precaution he had personally ordered after Hunt’s death. It gave him total visibility of all the monitors and security alarms in the White House. Within seconds of the alarm, he was headed toward Wells’ office. A quick call to security on his cell phone confirmed that the security elevator had been called from that level. He instructed the security monitor to have the nearest guard meet him at the Data-Net room. They arrived at the same time. The guard paused to punch in his access code.
“I can’t get the door lock to respond,” the frustrated guard said to Rutland.
“Try the main security override, you fool!” Rutland shouted back.
“I did, sir,” he stammered. “It won’t work.”
“It has to!” Rutland barked as he shoved the man aside. “It will open any door in this building.”
“Not anymore,” the slightly built Oriental man said as he casually walked up. Dr. Kim Loo couldn’t help but silently admire Jeff Wells. Who would have thought that Wells was capable of using the resources of Data-Net to reprogram the White House security locks?
“What do you mean?” Rutland snarled at Loo.
“Dismiss your guard, please,” he said to Rutland politely.
“Go!” Rutland commanded the guard, who was more than happy to comply. He feared Rutland. Most of the people who worked in the White House did.
“Apparently we have underestimated young Mr. Wells again,” Loo said calmly.“He has linked his network with the internal security system and reprogrammed your master security key.”
“Can you restore it?” Rutland was barely able to control his fury.
“Yes, but it will take at least one hour. You can be sure that Wells is no longer inside. It is imperative that he be caught! There is no limit to what he is capable of doing.”
Through clenched teeth, Rutland said, “We will stop him, Doctor. You can be assured of that. We have resources he knows nothing about.” Then he turned and hurried back to his office. He knew he had to handle this matter quickly and effectively. He would not fail the Society he had pledged his life to promote. He placed a phone call.
“Lively? Rutland. We have reason to believe that Wells and the girl have escaped. They had help from someone inside. They’re in one of the limousines. Can you track it?”
“We can,” Lively said assuringly. “I’ve had every government vehicle fitted with a locator. We’ll pick it up as soon as they cross one of the ID scanners. Do you want us to stop them?”
“No!” Rutland said coldly. “Just track them to their destination. I want to find out everyone who is involved. Then we will eliminate the traitors.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have a trace on them,” Lively said, softy humming to himself. “Things are going great,” he mused. “We’re rounding up the Christians and the Jews, too. This country will soon be a fit place to live.”
Lively called his secret service command center. “Let me talk with Marla,” he snapped at the receptionist.
Marla West was Lively’s head of security. She had been with the NCLU since the early ’80s when President Reagan’s pro-family, pro-life rhetoric had caused them a lot of grief. They had waited him out, as they had all the other right-wingers. The one thing Lively despised most about those who called themselves Christians was their lack of commitment to their cause. They always crumbled when troubles came.
Marla West was absolute in her commitment to the anti-Christian crusade. She had been convicted of torching several churches that had caused the NCLU to hide in the ’90s. She had served her time, and she came out more committed than when she went in. Persecuting Christians was pure pleasure to her.
“Yes, Fred,” the stone-faced woman said into the phone as gently as she could. Marla West was sixty-four and looked ten years older. She had always been overweight, and had developed gray hair and wri
nkles at thirty. She pretended that she didn’t care that other people thought her ugly. In reality, she did care—a lot.
When she was a teenager, she had attended a church camp for a week. The other girls had called her “Fatty,” and “Grandma,” because of her older-looking face. She had lain in wait for two of them one night as they returned from a cookout. All she had was a broken broom handle but she had used it viciously. She split the scalp of one girl; the blood made it look like a massacre. She had pelted the other girl with the handle until she had black welts all over her face and arms.
Since it had been dark, neither of the girls really saw their attacker and Marla might have gotten away without discovery, except that she had to let them know it was her. The next day she visited the two girls in the local county hospital and told them both, “Now who looks like an old woman?” That very day she was shipped home and barred from ever attending the camp again. From then on she had developed a consuming hatred for those who called themselves Christians.
“Marla, we have an emergency,” Lively said calmly. “Two people working on Data-Net have decided to defect. They are in one of the government limos right now. We need to locate them before they change vehicles.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
“Jeff Wells and his assistant, Karen Eison,” Lively said.
“Whew,” West said. “That’s pretty heavy. I thought Wells was the brains behind the network.”
“Just catch them,” Lively told her. “Rutland wants them eliminated after we find out who’s involved. We can’t have any screwups on this.”
“I don’t make mistakes,” West countered. “I already have a trace on them, just like we do every government vehicle. They’re headed down MLK right now. I’d say it’s a good bet they are headed for the old airport.”
Lively signaled his chief of security. He wrote “MLK Airport” on a note and handed it to him. Instantly a call went out to any units in the vicinity, and in less than five minutes contact was made.
The Illuminati Page 27
