and do his bidding!

  Okay, that onewras well on its way. The "murder" of

  Doug Stavers once, twice and then thrice--after which

  Stavers continued to appear-fed juicy controversy and

  anger onto the global pool-table of religious conflict,

  witb each controlling force smashing one into the other

  like idiot numbered spheres, clanging and banging from

  one side of the table to another.

  Then the need to snatch all the world's attention to,

  of all things, the one man accepted as the worst mass

  murderer of all time. Little matter that be might not

  be that archfiend of death and destruction (the manipu-

  lators of the world's food supply and medicines had

  killp.d FRr rnnrp fbnn - +L-

  DARK MESSIAH

  351

  dreams of the Fuehrer); the planet recognized Adolf

  Hitler as the worst of the worst. That Stavers' group

  controlled a vast percentage of the world media was no

  accident, and with Hitler's pending delivery to the

  German government in Frankfurt, under the inescap-

  able glare of floodlights, radio and instant globalwide

  satellite television, the explosive uproar was pure

  guarantee.

  Every former enemy screamed for Hitler's head; no,

  for the full living, breathing, shouting, eye-glaring body

  of the bloodlust figure of Nazi Germany. And the West

  German government dared not and would never yield

  up this ultimate symbol of national disgust and deprav-

  ity. For if the Germans put this creature on public trial,

  and ran all his crimes before the world, and then exe-

  cuted the madman, then, oh, sweet opportunity! all the

  Germans, individuals and nation, could cleanse their

  souls, one and all, and put behind them once and

  forever the stigma of the Third Reich that had endured

  not its promised One Thousand Years, but the turbu-

  lent nightmare of only twelve years.

  Weinstein smiled; that pot would be kept boiling

  until the play was carried out to its last scene, its final

  word, its ultimate act of hanging the beloved Adolf by

  the neck until dead-with an audience of billions.

  There must now take place three additional events in

  succession so short-coupled in time they must occur

  with rapid-fire sequence.

  First, the appearance of the Reverend Doug Stavers

  before a live audience of hundreds of thousands of the

  devout; weeping, screaming, praying, hair-tearing, breast-

  beating faithful, who would be fired up and burled into

  loving adulation beyond their ability to control. It must

  be an emotional onslaught so overwhelming that its

  very existence could and would be felt psychically and

  physically beyond that immediate area where it would

  take place.

  Weinstein met with Roberto Diaz and A] Templin,

  "Are vou familiarAith that abandoned nuclear powerplant

  ;_ t-.nrn1in2P The hiige, howl thev used to film the

  0 Martin Caidin

  Movie, The Abyss? As an idea of its size they poured

  seventy-five million gallons of water into the bowl. They

  made a movie ocean miles deep. It's got good access

  and yet it's remote. It's got excellent power facilities

  rought in for the film. It's perfect for assembling a

  half-million people. It's ideal for satellite feed through-

  out the world."

  1. ey're getting ready to shoot another movie there,"

  Diaz said. "We won't be able to interfere."

  "Buy them out."

  "No deal. They really want to make this new film."

  Weinstein looked at Diaz with contempt. "Buy the

  goddamned movie company, you idiot. Buy all the

  rights. "

  Diaz stared at the woman. He'd seen her for a long

  time and, Jesus, she was a doctor! What the hell was

  she doing running this show? Talking for Stavers? Diaz

  turned to Templin to complain.

  Templin cut him off before he could say a word. "She

  speaks for Stavers. When she tells you what to do from

  now on, it's Doug Stavers talking to you. I have this

  from the man himself. Don't take anything personally,

  Bob. That would be a terrible mistake."

  Diaz looked back to Weinstein. "All right, lady, you-"

  "Doctor Weinstein," she said, her words coated with

  ice.

  "Yes, maam, Doctor Weinstein," Diaz complied im-

  mediately. "You'll have it as soon as I can-"

  "Tomorrow, Leave now."

  "Holy-yes, ma'am." He was gone,

  Al Templin grinned at Weinstein. "That was beautifol

  She ignored the compliment, "You're bung up on

  something, Al. Spell it out," she ordered.

  "Security in that bowl area is lousy," he said curtly.

  "Yes, I know. Your ideas?"

  "You just told me about the place. Anything I say

  right now would be a vacuum. Meaningless," Templin

  answered.

  Weinstein turned to a computer, her fingers flying

  about the keys. The great nuclear bowl appeared on the

  sereen Tpmniin wnfi-k@rl fa-i-#_A

  DARK MESSIAH

  353

  through changing angles one after the other. The screen

  stopped with a long oblique angle of the bowl. "Ideas,

  AIF

  He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Now I can see a way in

  and out."

  "I want absolute security, Al."

  He smiled at her, "Doc, there ain't no such animal.

  That's like asking a sawbones for an absolute guarantee

  every operation he does comes out perfect."

  "Admitted. "

  He was still taken aback, surprised, his favorable

  reactions mixed with wild curiosity. He seemed to be

  talking to a familiar face behind which a total and in-

  credibly strong stranger had emerged.

  "It's going to be a doozy-"

  "Tell me about it, Al."

  He worked it out through the computer, made cer-

  tain there were only two copies. "Destroy them," she

  ordered.

  He knew the difference between argument and ques-

  tion. "Why?" he asked.

  "Then only you and I know all the details. Everybody

  else need only take their orders, and perform. They

  won't have time to ask questions."

  " Stavers; said you're the boss on this," he said,

  shrugging.

  "Yes," she said again. This woman could knock down

  buildings with that simple Yes of hers, he thought with

  a flare of anger.

  "There's more," she said suddenly. "'When this show

  is over, and I'll expect you to run it several times for

  repeats with comments on the overwhelming adoration

  for the Reverend," she said, smiling, and then the

  smile vanished, "then we must move, very fast, and in

  absolute secrecy. You're not going to get much sleep,

  Al. "

  He shrugged again and stood up. "You through?" he

  asked,

  "Yes." she told hirn.

  This time the one word wasn't quite so heavy. "Then

  I'm aone." he told her. He left without another word.

  354

  Martin Caidin

  ey need three days to prepare the huge bowl in

  South Carolina. Rebecca Weinstein started bringing to-

  gether all the pieces. A] Templin, despite his position

  of security chief for Stavers, knew nothing of the swift

  movement, destinations, or the people involved.

  One hour after Templin's departure, Doug Stavers

  and Rebecca Weinstein, with four large men moving

  loosely about them, stepped inside a Concorde 11 in

  Los Angeles. Forty-three other passengers bound for a

  high-priced whirlwind tour of France completed the

  passenger manifest. None of them knew Stavers: or

  Weinstein, who traveled under the names of Walter

  and Ina Quinn. They "melted" into the tempo of the

  pleasure flight as the supersonic airliner raced nonstop

  for Paris.

  If everything came off on schedule, two powerful jet

  helicopters would await them in Paris. Skip Marden

  had gone on ahead and true to form, everything was on

  schedule. Customs and State performed flawlessly; the

  French officials waived inspection. They rode a small

  private bus across the airport. The two swift helicop-

  ters, one primary and one backup, waited with engines

  idling and rotors turning lazily.

  Four minutes later they were in the air and flying

  southward from Paris. Rebecca Weinstein adopted a

  low profile for what came next. It would be a swift

  hit-snatch-run and this was their ball game.

  Skip Marden reveled in his moment of glory. Glory

  appeared whenever he was given an assignment calling

  for speed, covert movement, swift death or incapacita-

  tion, and success in his mission. At precisely two o'clock

  in the morning, as scheduled, his teams rose from their

  places of concealment in the countryside about the

  French village of Arques. Telephone lines sang in the

  night as they were out and tumbled to the ground.

  Power lines went down ,Nitb short, sharp blasts from

  plastic explosives. Bridges tumbled, rock slides covered

  .roads. Even the microwave transmitters for radio. tele-

  DARK MESSIAH

  355

  phone, television and computer lines were churned to

  scrap me a and torn plastic.

  rques an everything for twenty miles around went

  el ically dead, save for isolated generators and the

  lights from automobiles and trucks. Communications-

  wise, Arques was a blinded oasis.

  Four powerful jet helicopters dropped from the skies

  onto the grounds of the Chateau of Blanchefort; a fifth

  remained airborne as aerial shotgun and command cen-

  ter for the operation. Marden and forty hardened spe-

  cial forces veterans punctured the isolation and simple

  defenses of the Chateau. The twelve powerful dogs

  patrolling the grounds died within a minute of each

  other, as did their handlers. Heavy doors flew away

  from the blasts of plastique. Every man with Marden

  had memorized every corridor, level and room in the

  Chateau.

  They took the ancient stone stairways at full speed.

  Marden pointed to a huge double door at the end of the

  hall. "Full cover," he snapped, and his men formed a

  cordon immediately about him. They -went through the

  unlocked doors in a fury of power.

  Two monks faced them, trembling with fear and hate.

  Marden shot them both, his silencer-equipped magnum

  blowing away most of their heads.

  A man sat -up in the large. heavywood bed.

  James Christ looked back at Skip Marden. His eyes

  radiated an incredible pale blue. For a mornent Marden

  felt he was falling down into pale blue waters. He shook

  Off the sudden, devastating effect by hurling, a jumpsuit

  at the man. "Put it on," he snapped.

  James Christ, direct descendant of a line unbroken

  from the days of his ancestor, known to the world as

  Jesus, said simply, "No."

  Marden expected the refusal. Two men rushed in

  from each side of the bed to grasp James' arms. Marden

  stepped forward, a small aerosol can in his left hand.

  He sprayed the knockout drug directly into the face of

  James; the man with the straw-blond hair shuddered,

  his eyes rolled, and be collapsed. "Get rid of his night-

  chirt " Marden sna-Med. "Get that suit on him. And the

  356

  Martin Caidin

  boots Throw a hat over his head. MacReady; take

  him. 1;

  Bull MacReady slung James Christ over his sboulder

  as . he might carry a child. Surrounded by the others

  with automatic weapons at the ready, they ran down

  the three flights of stairs to ground level, through the

  outside garden, and dashed into the big Alouette heli-

  copter waiting for them,

  Marden was the last in. He threw himself through

  the open door and shouted, "Go!"

  The chopper lifted, the others slid into escort forma-

  tion and they raced toward a long runway of an aban-

  doned French air force station ninety miles distant.

  The helicopter with James Christ aboard touched

  down only yards from a long-range Skua waiting with

  engines running. Doug Stavers looked back from the

  cockpit as MacReady eased the unconscious James into

  a seat and secured his straps. Rebecca Weinstein, in a

  doctor's white uniform, immediately began an emer-

  gency study of her "patient." She looked up at Stavers

  and nodded.

  The crew closed the doors, the helicopter lifted away

  to vanish into the night. Stavers: taxied to the runway,

  swung the Skua and eased power as he turned. Nine-

  teen seconds later they roared into the night sky and

  began the long nonstop flight to South Carolina.

  A couple with the names, passports and other identi-

  fication of Walter and Ina Quinn had already joined the

  tour group that had flown nonstop aboard the Concorde

  11 from Los Angeles to Paris.

  Dr. Frank Everest Harlow waited in the aft compart-

  ment of the Skua for his "patient." He glanced at his

  watch; the machine should be at cruising altitude now.

  His timing proved impeccable. A door slid aside and

  Dr. Rebecca Weinstein entered the compartment, fol-

  lowed by a huge man carrying an unconscious figure in

  his arms. Skip Marden placed James Christ gently on a

  couch and turned to a third man to come into the

  compartment,

  "Watch his eves," Marden told Douv Staverq- "Th#-

  DARK MESSIAH

  357

  son of a bitch can draw you in like you're diving into a

  lake." Marden shook his head with remembered won-

  der. He'd encountered some heavy psyche before w--,'th

  eye contact. He'd watched for years as Stavers' steely-

  eyed, penetrating look unnerved other men to the point

  of abject fear. And he'd even seen Adolf Hitler at

  pointblank range. But never had he felt such incredible

  depth. It was like tumbling into water.

  Weinstein looked with a sense of wonder at Marden,

  then back to James Christ. This man has been isolated,

  she pondered. Generation after generation removed

  from that bearded, sandaled Jew. And yet, now, after

  all the centuries, that look is still there. His forebearer

  mesmerized thousands with his eyes. From what I have

  just seen and heard, this James Christ could be just as

  compelling. How this is possible is beyond me ...

  She studied the other 11 doctor," and as she did so and

  thought of why he was here, on this airplane, she shook

  the cobwebs from her head. So we have a Jew who once

  talked to God, and this descendant of his perhaps can

  do the same. It doesn't matter, This idiot race has taken

  this marvelous jewel of a world to turn it into a cess-

  pool. God's been gone a very long time. ...

  "Time is critical," Weinst in said sharplv to Dr. Har-

  low. "Begin your program. E@

  Frank Harlow leaned forward to study the face ofithe

  bearded man stirring back to consciousness. A strange

  and forbidding sense of familiarity shuddered through

  him, a sensation of needles pricking his body and his

  mind. He knew this man, he knew this face, and he also

  knew he had never before faced "James," the only

  name Weinstein had instructed him to use.

  James' eyes opened. Harlow looked into deep blue

  waters. He felt a brush of dizziness. fie shook his head

  to clear his senses.

  "What's wrong?" Weinstein demanded harshly.

  1-i doD't know," Harlow stammered.

  Instantly he felt a steel vise clamp about his arm as

  Doug Stavers spun him about as be might swing a rag

  doll. "You're supposed to be the best," Stavers said

  -rl- --'A ----A bi-cif Thp

  358

  Martin Caidin

  man who can mesmerize a brass statue. Who's put an

  audience of thousands into deep trance. What the fuck's

  wrong with you? You're almost drooling like an idiot!"

  Harlow nodded mutely and turned back to "James,"

  He felt the presence of enormous power. A sense of

  foreboding warned him not to hold direct eye contact

  with this man. Yet he knew as well that not to carry out

  his contract with Stavers could mean his life. That was

  the deal. Put the "patient" into deep by notic state,

  I p

  open him up for suggestions and instructions so they

  would become "his own thoughts and beliefs."

  "Do you bear my voice?" he asked "James."

  The man smiled. Harlow felt as if he were a child

  once again. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, railed at

  himself to stop this nonsense, opened his eyes again

  and stared into the blue pools before him.

  And "fell" into the waiting waters. Harlow turned

 

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