Raman Jalota's Novel

 Copyright (c) 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

CRUCIFICTION
A Novel
By
Raman Jalota

Chapter 1  ... The Crucifiction
Jacob walked in calmly and stretched his five-foot, eight-inch frame on the gurney.  He looked into Dr. Thomas's eyes and nodded reassuringly as if absolving him. He did not blame him for what was to come. The two medical assistants Cynthia and Allen tied the straps across Jacob's legs. One of the guards unlocked the handcuffs and Dr. Thomas helped Cynthia secure the prisoner completely.
Dr. Thomas felt good, not having to use his strength. He disliked having a struggle at the last minute. He had never had to use his strength to subdue a prisoner; there were always enough guards to overcome the strongest of them. But it always left a lingering unpleasantness to have to fight a man about to die at his hands in the next few minutes.  He looked towards the warden huddled with his aides and witnesses in the northeast corner of the room.
There was a small contingent of press from the Denver area along with perhaps one local reporter from the Vista News. He hoped the press wouldn't question him for too long tonight. He had not seen any TV cameras and though somewhat disappointed, was glad that he wouldn't have to go through an interview on camera. How he hated those. Dr. Thomas did not socialize locally and was looking forward to his drive back to Colorado Springs before the late October sun sank.
.....

Jacob blinked. He anticipated pain but was surprised by the soothing effect of the barbiturate running through his veins.
He flexed his arms involuntarily and felt the straps that tied him to the gurney. "What a contraption," he counted the five straps running across his body. They got tighter as they got near his feet. Two spider-like arms sprang at an angle on both sides of the modified operating table. Jacob's arms were strapped tightly to them. He tried to raise his head but the straps across his shoulders and his arms limited his field of movement. He tried to look down towards his feet, the pain in his neck made him let his head go back down on the small pillow.  All he could hear was the murmur of some people that he couldn't see.  He could smell the disinfectants overshadowing all other smells.
.....

The "lethal injection chamber" was well lit and the almond paint on all walls, the long, almost luxurious cream curtains on the large windows leant it a cheery feeling. The high ceiling gave it the feel of a gym, it made one want to walk tall. This was perhaps the most pleasant room in the prison facility, yet its use was so very limited.
The operating table was in a corner, very efficient looking and on a cart by the table were all the syringes and drugs needed to fulfill the terms of the execution.
Dr. Victor Thomas discarded the syringe he had just used and wondered why he felt so strange discarding a syringe. It was such an automatic action. A doctor never used a syringe twice, yet how would it matter if this patient were "infected"? 
"I am going to make sure he gets enough potassium chloride to stop his heart, and I will be signing his death certificate in less than fifteen minutes"; he murmured to himself, as he filled another syringe, expertly pushing the bubbles through the bottle and spraying the first few drops in the air to dispel the remaining air in the syringe. He reached for the vein in the prisoner's right arm.
Strangely enough, this was one of the most docile prisoners he had come across. Jacob Craden was soft spoken and relaxed. He looked very cool and comfortable to Dr. Thomas. He remembered the commotion when Jacob Craden had been arrested and the trial that the local and sometimes the national media covered. He was aware of the political party that Jacob had headed and the tremendous local reaction as the trial had progressed.  He, however, had always kept his own political beliefs to himself, preferring jogging and tennis to politics.
.....
 
The vertical straps that dug into Jacob's shoulders kept bringing him back to consciousness. "What had the doctor said ... an injection to induce sleep followed by other drugs ... no more than ten minutes for the whole ordeal ... you should be asleep in less than two minutes and should not feel anything." And yet the right strap was digging into his shoulder, keeping him awake.
He saw the doctor withdraw the syringe and walk away from him "It is finished," Jacob whispered. The floating sensation came and hit him again, and it was thick and black and he sank into the darkness.
Dr. Thomas leaned over the cart and looked at the large bottle of potassium chloride. He instinctively checked the expiration date. He seemed uneasy but retained his air of efficiency about him. His tall, athletic body and the perfectly trimmed mustache and hair added to his air of authority. On the other hand Cynthia, his assistant, blended noiselessly into the background. She was there when he needed her, unobtrusive, unheard and unseen.
Dr. Thomas glanced at his watch and walked over to the group in the corner. The warden stepped forward and said, "How's it going doc?"
"Another ten, fifteen minutes," Dr. Thomas nodded at the reporters.
"Any last words or messages?" asked the Post reporter.
"I think all he said was "It's finished."
"Did he say anything about..."
The warden gently nudged the reporter towards the back and started talking to the group. Dr. Thomas sighed with relief and watched Cynthia and Allen hovering over the dying prisoner. Cynthia whispered something in Allen's ear and he left the chamber.
Dr. Thomas looked at his watch, waiting for 7:32. He had injected the potassium chloride at 7:17 and fifteen minutes was more than enough.
He walked towards the gurney; he put on his stethoscope, looked at his watch and leaned over Jacob. He searched for the patient's heartbeat not expecting to find it; lingered for a second, as if he did hear something, then pulled up the stethoscope. From the corner of his eye he saw Cynthia pushing the cadaver cart.  The squeaking noise of the cart and the door creaking open at the exact moment of his examination seemed to disturb him.  He squinted his eyes, stepped back, nodded at the warden and picked up the pre-typed death certificate and with a flourish signed his name. He glanced at Cynthia, hurrying to leave the chamber; wondered why she seemed uneasy. He tried to think of something to say to relax her but could not come up with anything. He muttered a weak "Goodnight, Cynthia," and walked out.   
The corridor was fairly narrow and as he walked to his office, two doors to the left, Dr. Thomas removed his lab coat, used his key to unlock his office and stepped in. He threw the coat on his chair, picked up his sports coat, found his car keys and stepped back into the corridor locking the door shut behind him. He slipped into his coat as he walked away from the execution chamber to the reception area and into the parking lot.
He noticed a black funeral van, parked to the far right in the visitor area. He hurried to his brown Volvo and breathed a sigh of relief as he drove out. He looked at his watch and smiled ... a hard day ... but well done nevertheless.
Cynthia wheeled the squeaking cart out of the chambers, past Dr. Thomas's office and into the dispensary. She unlocked the cabinet on the right, replaced the unused syringes and swabs on the lower shelf and locked it. She carefully bundled the remaining bottles, used syringes, towels and swabs in a plastic sack, double sacked it and pushed it to the bottom of her day-pack, under her sweater and makeup. Larry was on the front desk tonight and will not search her as long as she stopped by and chatted with him for a few minutes and smiled a lot. 
She walked back to the chamber; opened the door and slowly walked to the body. She gently removed the straps from Jacob's arms and folded them on his chest. Allen had untied the legs and was untying the shoulder straps in his usual abrupt way, not wanting to touch the body anymore than he had to. He swung the right arm of the table to the side as Cynthia pushed and lined up the cart next to the table.
Allen grabbed the body under the shoulders and while Cynthia pulled gently, he brutally jerked the body onto the cart. There was a dull thud and the warden and his men stared at them but did not say anything. While Cynthia straightened the sheet under the body, Allen unfolded another blue sheet and threw it over Jacob Craden's body. He wheeled the cart out with Cynthia at the foot of the cart. The warden motioned towards a group of relatives waiting outside the chambers. 
One of the guards had unlocked the side doors and was holding one of them open. Two men from the group quickly took the cart in their possession. Allen was glad to give up the cart and held the other door open. The two men Andy and Michael wheeled the cart out.
As they turned around the building, Cynthia looked into Andy's eyes and nodded very slightly. He carefully turned the cart towards the van. Andy felt elated but did not betray his emotions. Cynthia's eyes sparkled when Andy opened the back of the van and tenderly carried Jacob in. She pushed the cart towards Allen, who took the cadaver cart gladly and hurried in. Cynthia looked inside the van. Andy had oxygen in the van, that would definitely help; but what he really needed was time. Time for the weakened barbiturate to wear off. One of the women, Mary Craden, mother of Jacob; climbed in the back and Lisa hesitated but got in the passenger's seat. Michael drove off. Cynthia watched them slow down and watched nervously as the guards looked into the van and then waved them off, she wiped her eyes and walked back.
The van had barely left the state territorial correctional facility and Andy had an I.V. in Jacob's left arm. He was as determined to help him recover as Dr. Thomas had been to kill him. Jacob's head was elevated and he was covered with two blankets to make sure he was kept warm. Mary tenderly tucked the blankets around her son. Andy turned towards Michael," It's under control. I think we have him. He should be O.K. till we get to the Springs."
Mary was very pale, almost as pale as her weakened son. She had barely said a word ... tucking the blankets around and holding Jacob's hand was all she could do. "Jacob, my son will live", she kept telling herself but her tears flowed uncontrollably.
Michael turned right to catch Highway 24 and kept his excitement to himself. Sitting beside him, Lisa looked worried. She did not seem sure of what was happening.
"She must be in shock," he said under his breath. "Poor Lisa; the only one Jacob fully trusts and surrenders to. How much courage she needs, now! And how little she has," he whispered to the dark road in front of him.
The van was headed east. In less than an hour, they should be in the Springs was what kept Michael focused. Barely ten minutes out of Buena Vista and he had stopped the van, pulling it off the highway. Lisa climbed in the back and Michael started spraying the side of the van, covering the white lettering he had so carefully painted just two days ago.
In less than five minutes, they were back on their way to Colorado Springs. Michael took the Smith Road exit and headed south; turned east on Palmer Street, back south on Waters and drove into the driveway of the second house from the turn-around.
He stopped the van gently and helped Andy bring the stretcher down and out quickly and into the bedroom. The curtains were already drawn. Jacob was gently laid to rest. Andy and Michael bent over him and started the resurrection.           
.....



Chapter 2  ... The Correct Corpse
The seventeenth of October had been forecasted to be mild with temperatures in the mid-forties. How wrong the brilliant afternoon sun had made the forecasters! The temperature shot up to a sizzling sixty-one degrees and the tennis courts were packed on this God given Saturday. 
Turner woke up a little late and lay in his bed trying his hardest to make his dream come back. He was in San Diego ... no Bahamas...(why not, it's my dream, he said to himself); on a boat bobbing lazily on pristine blue-green waters on a hot afternoon ... he had his fishing equipment including a fridge full of beer ... a gentle breeze and the sound of birds in the distance and the waves gently caressing his brand new boat.
Through the lazy hazy mist his brain told him it was past one and he better get up to make it to the airport in time. He had been working six days a week, every week for the last two months. Turner and the other fifteen hundred workers working three shifts a day were still behind schedule. The airport's opening had been delayed to March, but he wasn't sure if they would make it by then?
The Brown & Brosh Contracting firm had one of the juiciest contracts in the country. One of the Denver International Airport's largest concourse being built for Continental Airlines was pouring money in the pockets of the contractor and the workers, like Turner, who had worked with Brown & Brosh for the last ten years. They were able to work sixty-hour weeks, pocketing almost two weeks pay for each week worked.  
Turner stretched his modest five-foot, nine-inch body and hit the shower. Since he was running a little late, he decided he would pick up a triple burger and a chocolate shake on his way to the three p.m. shift.
    . . . . .
 
Michael and Andy had decided on DIA long before the delay in opening was announced. One of the largest new airports in the country; DIA will provide a wonderful opportunity to pick up a traveler who could be passed-off as Jacob with some help from a skilled make up artist.
As the execution of Jacob grew closer and the opening of DIA seemed in doubt, Andy and Michael took a tour of the airport being offered by the city for only seven dollars.
They had a re-planning session with the brain trust which to the dismay of Andy, had not only allowed Lisa to be a part of the group but had informally made her an equal to Michael and him. She had taken over the group with a zeal that the others lacked. She had a personal stake in it that was larger than anyone else could claim. Lisa went over the state of the airport's construction more thoroughly than the Denver city council ever did.
Lisa summed up Michael and Andy's initial report with; "Even though the non-completion of DIA changes what we had planned earlier, I like the  fact that it offers us a choice. We can still utilize our original plan and use Stapleton to find a traveler or we can use DIA to pick up a member of the construction crew. Our original plan still seems completely workable, as long as Andy and Michael feel comfortable with it."
Michael knew what she was getting to, "That's right Lisa; we don't need DIA to be operational ... we just need a crowded airport. We will switch to being construction personnel instead of airport officials. This may make it a little bit easier as a matter of fact."  
A smile lit up the group as everyone nodded their heads in understanding and relief. Andy did not like someone else running the meeting but nodded in agreement, "I think it's great. There are probably enough construction guys built like Jacob at that airport, and probably less cautious in dealing with strangers like us. I will get some blueprints and hard hats and we can easily switch that part of our plan to being construction bosses checking up on whichever part of the airport we want to."
After the meeting Lisa stayed back with Andy and Michael. "I want to let you know, how deeply I appreciate the risk you are taking. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about what you two are willing to do for him."
"Lisa, we have known Jacob since we were kids. He is like a brother for whom we will do anything. Andy and I have volunteered to do this and do not mind the risks. The outcome is too important."
Andy agreed, "He is more than a brother to us. It's hard to explain the feeling we have for him. It's reverence mixed with affection, a closeness that comes with thinking, working, being alike."
Lisa hugged the two with tears in her eyes.  
    . . . . .

DIA was being built in levels. The top level, level six, was to be for departing passengers to be dropped off. Levels one, two, and three for parking. Level four to pick up arriving passengers and level five for commercial vehicles; with fast trains running from and to the three concourses.
Concourse C for international flights and Continental Airlines was the busiest and first one scheduled to be finished. It was also the farthest away from the terminal; next to the two west runways already completed.
It was almost pitch dark when Michael driving north on I-25, turned onto I-225; and East on I-70. The dark blue van got off on Pena Boulevard, the fabric roof of the airport, mimicking the Colorado Mountains, their white color making them look almost ethereal in the darkness, cast a chilling silhouette on the vast prairie.
For a moment Michael and Andy stared at the sight before them, nodded at one another and Michael drove off the road, across the first east-west runway and parked the van near the far runway next to Concourse C.
Concourse C was lit up well in patches, every patch representing an area being worked on this night. The sound of power tools got louder as Andy and Michael in their navy blue jackets and white hard hats walked in with rolled up blueprints in Michael's hand.
The twenty gates in Concourse C had been divided among several airlines, but the biggest share belonged to Continental. On the north side of gate C-12 was the area being carpeted tonight by Turner and Oscar.
Turner was stapling the carpet to the board and smoothing out the corners in what will eventually be one of the concessions selling pizzas or sandwiches to the millions of travelers to the Denver International Airport. Little did Turner realize that a day that had started so pleasantly would be the last day of his life. His dream had been so real, he could almost taste the salt in his mouth. Turner looked at the two boss types, trying to look like they knew what they were doing. He could tell they were lost. The two walked past Gate 14 and towards Gate 12. They had stopped for a few minutes and looked at the concession area but then unfolded the blueprints and walked away.
Andy and Michael thought alike. They liked Turner. They went down the length of the concourse and steadily picked and rejected almost all the possible candidates. Turner, the one they had dubbed "Yellow Shirt," turned out to be their number one choice. Michael whispered, "So far so good ... we can wait a while and try to get him when he leaves this area alone or go with the original plan."
"What if the two leave together? We have to get him out alone," Andy responded. He thought for a moment turning the plan of action over in his mind; "I know exactly how to get him, just follow my lead."
Andy was absolutely amazing. He was transferred into a cool, calculating hooligan almost as if something had taken control of him. He waved Michael ahead of him towards Gate 16 and approached Turner.
"Excuse me, can you help us locate the GP Express gates?" Andy was staring at Turner, ignoring Oscar completely.
As Turner walked towards Andy, Andy motioned towards Michael "Show this man the blueprint." He pulled out a pack of Winston's and lit one. He offered one to Turner. Turner had just had a cigarette break, but hell this was a free cigarette and a chance to talk to the big guys, why not?
Andy lit Turner's cigarette and said," How long you been on this job?"
"Forever ... huh ... actually been almost eight months," said Turner as he inhaled his last puff.
Michael had followed Andy's hand motions and had unfurled the blueprints on the floor next to the wall. When Turner leaned on the floor, Michael removed the chloroform soaked towel from the sandwich bag in his pocket and jammed it on Turner's face.
Turner was puzzled. This didn't look like a blueprint from the airport . He was about to say "Where did you get this?"; but before he could say his first word, the chloroform hit him.
He moved his hands up to fight the fist on his face. This is very strange, he screamed. But the boat was nodding slowly and seductively at him and the shadows were getting longer and darker and prettier. Far in the distance he heard waves breaking on rocks and fish jumping.
    .....

The moment of truth had arrived. Michael had flawlessly executed his part in knocking Turner out. Turner's body had gone limp in seconds. Andy lifted Turner and leaned him along the wall while Michael zipped shut his jacket pocket and produced two masks, handing one to Andy.
Andy weighed less than Turner's one hundred and sixty-two pounds, but Andy could bench press over three hundred pounds. It would have been easier to just lift Turner in his arms or over his shoulder and carry him, but they had to make sure that even if someone saw the three of them going out to the runway, no one should suspect anything. 
Michael held Turner's left arm over his shoulder supporting some of his weight. Andy had his left arm, the stronger arm, around Turner's waist and half dragged him, and half lifted him through the gate they had come in.
The van was parked in the dark and now Andy could lift up the body and carry Turner while Michael hurried ahead and opened the sliding door for Andy to carry Turner in.
The van retraced its tracks and was on its way to Colorado Springs in ten minutes. Michael checked his watch. "Ten thirty .... great timing ... perfect work." He smiled a big smile of relief.
Andy injected thirty ccs of Nembutal into Turner's right arm, and walked over to the front of the van and sat down with a big sigh of relief. They looked at each other and sighed and smiled. The day was done.
.....



Chapter 3  ... The Cremation
Natalie Skinner enjoyed the drive to the Eternal Life Chapel. Located near the Sunset Golf Club, the view was exceptional. She never tired of looking at the Rockies, and with the hint of winter and some recent snow, the tops of the mountains looked heavenly against the flawless blue sky. The bottoms of the mountains were brown and ugly like her assignment to the funeral of Jacob Craden.
The execution of Jacob had opened all of her wounds up. She had met him several times as the intimacy between her and Andy had grown. It seemed like yesterday when all hell had broken loose. With the explosion of the churches around the state, her relationship had died. The softness of Andy had disappeared; he had hardened up and withdrew abruptly. She was bewildered but accepted Andy's reaction. She was hoping to see Andy again and perhaps talk to him, even if just as a reporter.
She had gone through the past issues of the Colorado Daily Journal, digging for a suitable angle to this story. She knew the funeral of Jacob Craden would probably be ignored by most. She needed a better angle. The extra payment for being the Associated Press correspondent for the story had failed to provide the needed motivation for her. But the thought of seeing Andy had propelled her forward.
She pulled into the parking lot and chose a spot away from the other cars, leaving her an early and easy exit.                        .....
Natalie started scribbling her notes for the article: Jacob looked peaceful, almost asleep, except for a bluish tinge to his skin. The funeral had been scheduled per his wishes for the third day following his execution. The burgundy suit and a somber black tie on an off-white shirt, gave him the look of the orator that he was. He had a little bit more makeup on his face than he normally allowed.
Jacob looked quite good for someone who had been executed; but then lethal chemical injection was the most humane way the United States had for execution. His closed eyes did not betray the abrupt attack and subsequent execution of Turner.
The lower portion of the coffin hid the extra inch of Turner without anyone ever imagining the fraud that was happening before them. The will stipulating that his body be cremated had come as a shock to some of his followers, but not to the inner circle of power controlled by his number two man Michael.
Jacob had commented many times on the land wasted on the dead. He believed cremation was the cleanest, most efficient way to dispose of a human body. He also detested monuments in the memory of the dead, including headstones. His wishes were being granted.
The will of the fourteen that comprised the inner circle would have easily overruled Jacob's wishes, to serve their own purposes. Today, they wished to hide the fact of his living, from all.
    .....
  
The large auditorium could hold five hundred people. The fact that everything could be controlled by Michael and his men, was the factor leading to the selection of Eternal Life as the site for the service.
The casket was on a platform that made the viewing just a little bit hard. Jeff was in charge of planning and execution of the funeral, and had purposely placed the casket higher and farther away than normal. The lighting was just adequate, may be a little dimmer than adequate. The podium was on the right side of the chapel; the body having been placed slightly left of center.
The left front wooden benches were occupied by the friends and family of the deceased. Actually Mary had stayed home along with Cynthia to attend to Jacob's needs, while his funeral took place. Lisa had decided to show up at the funeral, but only towards the end. 
    .....

The service began promptly, just as Jacob had wished. The service was being performed by Jake Scott, the oldest member of the organization.
Natalie was puzzled. This was a far different service than one she had ever been to. "But of course" she remembered . There was no mention of God, no mention of heaven or hell. No psalms being read aloud; no hymns being sung; not a holy book in sight; just a simple service rejoicing in the fact of life and including death as part of life.
Natalie looked around and noticed that there were no crosses adorning the walls; no pictures of God or his holy subjects. But almost paralleling the look of a religious chapel, there were ornaments, and pictures, and paintings; however down to the last object of ornament, everything was non-religious, non-intruding.
Jake Scott moved away after introducing Michael Simons, whom Natalie knew to be the current chief of Jacob's surviving organization. Tall and thin, Michael moved like an athlete. His neat, trimmed mustache gave him the look of a model. He looked tired and exhausted. He gazed intently at a point in space away from anyone.
"I knew Jacob since our middle school days in Phoenix. We went to school together, moved to University of Michigan together and stayed together after the third year of college when both of us dropped out. We had mutually convinced each other of the uselessness of continuing on. Jacob already had a large following and did not worry about anything but his vision. Like you, I was captivated by his ideas and his words."
Michael had never been the passionate, convincing speaker that Jacob was. Michael was more the timid, matter of fact type of a speaker who relied on the power of the logic in his words, and shied away from emotional, dramatic, grandiose gestures. His speech was boring, almost putting Natalie to sleep. She recovered from nearly dozing off to see Michael as he smiled awkwardly and continued; "he may be gone in the eyes of the world but mark my words he lives and will be with us for a long time to come. He will act through us and those who know him will know it's him."
By now Natalie had realized that Jacob's mother was absent from the chapel; nor did Lisa seem to be around. She thought she had seen a glimpse of Andy at the beginning of the ceremony among a group of people moving around the front but now she couldn't locate him.
Jeff was next to speak, but before he could begin, Lisa walked in to the auditorium along with Andy and two others that Natalie didn't recognize.  Michael quickly went up to Lisa. They whispered for a while, and then he brought her up to the front. She sat restlessly through the remaining speeches and left before the last speaker could begin.
Natalie saw Lisa get up to leave at the same time that Andy started his speech. Andy was looking at the crowd as he delivered his short speech. Natalie felt he was looking into her eyes and was swept by the intensity of her emotions and could not make out his words. She sat in her seat not trusting her strength to get up and find Lisa. The service ended and she breathed a sigh of relief.
     .....
The Eternal Life Chapel offered everything, including cremation chambers connected to the main building by a short passageway. Two hours is all it took to reduce a man's body to bone fragments. The temperature inside the retort reached more than 2,000 degrees, and even though it was just a metallic cylinder heated by gas furnaces, it was amazing how a 150 or 200 pound body could be reduced to just three or four pounds of bones.
No one other than Michael and Jeff remained after the service. The funeral director, Larry Jones, wanted to lockup and go home immediately. The two hours that it took for the body to be burnt was hard enough to pass. Larry had warned them that the cooling of the cremation chamber will take many hours and the next step of collecting bones and pulverizing them will not be done till the next morning.
Michael had wanted to stick around for the first phase. He needed to be assured that all signs of "Yellow Shirt" were gone. Jeff assured him they could stick around for as long as they wished.
    .....
Turner was placed in the cremation chamber shortly after the service was over, only a handful of people were around along with Larry Jones and his crew of four. Michael and Jeff insisted on helping with the removal of the body from the casket and helped place it on the tray inside the cremation chamber.
Larry was used to giving in to these people, the most powerful group of people he had ever dealt with ... and the kind of things they wanted to observe and control ... he had never had anyone even remotely interested in observing the draining of the body fluids from the dead ... even Larry rarely stuck around for the slow but necessary process ... he made it a point to stick his neck in once or twice to make sure things were progressing satisfactorily. He had never stuck around for the two to three hours of the preparation process prior to the funeral, but the insistence of Jeff on being present, and observing, had forced him to spend more time with this dead body than he had spent with any other.
These two were interested in all aspects of the preparation of the body before the service, and the handling of the body during the cremation. Jacob Craden had been a charismatic leader for these people and had caused the governor of the state lots of headaches. The long drawn out legal maneuvering and the short court drama had not escaped Larry's notice. He understood the extreme concern these people had for the sanctity of the deceased. 
When the furnace had turned itself off after two hours of firing, the whole crew quit. Michael and Jeff too walked out the chambers and to the Holiday Inn for a night's rest or as it turned out in reality - unrest.
Michael kept turning over, finally gave up on trying to sleep and got a pot of coffee ready and sat on one of the easy chairs, drinking coffee and staring out the window at this unfriendly city. He dozed off even with three cups of black coffee racing his brain; too much had happened too fast; and he could not keep his eyes open any longer.
    .....
The five-inch-long steel rod was the only item that Larry found unusual. Michael mumbled something about a surgery that Jacob had to fix his hip in the seventies and pocketed the rod. The bones remaining after the cremation were being pulverized.
The shiny black urn containing the powdered bones was solemnly handed to Jeff. Jeff thanked Larry in a low voice, looked at Michael and nodded towards the exit.       
As the dark green Buick sped towards Colorado Springs, Michael rolled down the passenger side window and threw out the only evidence of the remains of Turner. The steel rod sat by the side of the highway, covered with dust ... and dreaming of fish.
.....



Chapter 4  ... The Courtship
Mary felt wonderful this morning. She had slept well and even though waking up in the same old dreary house had brought her spirits down a little, nothing could keep the delicious dreams of Jasper out of her head. The day had finally arrived, bringing with it the dawning of the next level of relationship between her and Jasper.
Mary looked forward to today. She looked at her seventeen year old body and smiled at the thought of Jasper's caresses. She was slightly overweight for her five-foot six-inch height; her thin pointed nose, and her thin lips complemented her blue eyes and dark hair. She had learnt to make herself attractive, especially to Jasper. She loosely brushed her hair, curving it over her forehead, covering the edge of her right eye and all of he ear. The left side was pushed behind her ear exposing the large red earring. Her off-center hairstyle gave her a magical, seductive look. She loved the rough caress of the cotton dress on her large nipples, and decided not to wear a bra today. She was feeling bold and ready.
    ......

The last two months had brought Jasper and her closer than she had imagined. She considered Jasper as just an extension of herself. The familiarity had grown slowly at first as she learnt to like the touch of his hands on her face and body. His hand innocently sitting in her lap or on her shoulder or on her breast as she rode around in his 53 Chevrolet Bel Air.
The trips to Flagstaff Mountains had fused the two together; they knew each other's body as well as their own. She had grown to love his hands gently cupping her breasts, caressing her nipples, as he kissed her neck, her ears, her hair, her lips, her face ... tasting every inch of her while she would close her eyes, transported. His hands moving on her body felt so right, so perfect, she was amazed at the oneness she felt with Jasper. His soft-spoken voice gently worshipping her, softly urging her on to a mutual climax. She learnt to take him in her hands; gently stroking him, loving the magical warmth flowing from him, his life, the aliveness of his flesh, his being responding to her touch. She would continue to hold him, feeling his body shudder through her touch ... fusing him to her. They would sit for hours, eternity; just snuggled up to each other whispering, not breaking the magic between them. She loved to relax her head on his chest breathing him, merging together.
    .....
 
Jasper greased his hair and combed it back away from his high forehead. The slight wave in his hair gave him the look he liked. His deep brown eyes and thick lips, and a straight and broad nose added to his clear skin, gave him the clean-cut look that he had grown into. His medium built slightly muscular body had more strength than it showed. He was twenty but could pass for someone sixteen. 
He loved his body and was awestruck by the realization that Mary loved his body as much as he. Mary was unique. Her nose was a little too pointy, her lips were a little too thin, her body was a little bit too fat; but each imperfection made her even more desirable to Jasper. He would not be so attracted to someone with perfect features; he was fascinated by her.  He could stare at her face for hours, each of her little imperfections drove him crazy, filling him with an overwhelming, uncontrollable desire for her; he loved to cup her face in his hands, gently feeling the magic of her being flow into his hands overflowing his senses.
Mary had been perfect for him; they had been learning from each other, teaching each other, growing sexually, harmoniously. He had always been gentle; Mary had been innocent or afraid or unfamiliar, but had grown to be more aggressive, more demanding and for Jasper more wonderful.
The last six weeks had been leading up to today. Jasper and Mary had started a routine. He would hurry home from his job at the Brandt Cabinet factory, shower and change, drive to within two or three blocks of Ryan Street and circle around till Mary would show up. She would get into his Bel Air, and they will drive around trying to find a place to get closer.
He had first taken her to the Sugarloaf Park after it grew dark, she would sit on his lap while he helped her learn how to drive. She would let him feel her body as she felt his warmth through her clothes. His hands were gentle, sure, and knowing, as he would hold her; exploring a little bit more each day. His expert handling of the gear shift when Mary would fumble from second to third, not grasping the intricacies of the movements, yet wanting to feel Jasper's hand as he would smoothly guide the gears had an excitement of its own. She almost looked forward to grinding the gear, stopping him in his gentle caresses; he would take control, shift the gear and go back to caressing her body. She felt a power in her body only matched by the gentle worship of it by Jasper.
When the driving together became too intense and their bodies hungered for more, they discovered Flagstaff Mountains and the excitement and suspense it provided. The beautiful scenery would help calm the two as they would approach hysterical loss of control. The presence of other cars and other couples stopped them from the wild abandonment they were slowly approaching. Jasper would often just stare at the dark mountains jutting against the dark skies, pointing at the stars. He would hold Mary close and with his eyes closed would breathe her presence, her exquisite smell, slowly, magically engulfing him in her love.
They had tried the 20th Century drive-in. Mary had gone to the drive-in with her friends. Jasper met her there, faking his pre-knowledge of her plans. She got in his Bel Air, both of them sat in the back seat, touching each other as they shared the popcorn. The movie screen was too intrusive and there were too many cars with too many inquisitive eyes probably following their each and every movement. They kissed and fondled each other but it was not satisfying, not enough; the lack of privacy, and their need for more intimacy left them a little annoyed, a little frustrated. 
Jasper by now had accepted the overwhelming power that Mary held over him and took pleasure in giving her pleasure.  Last week, it became too much. They barely noticed the mountains and the stars. They started kissing as soon as they parked. Soon, they rolled over to the back seat. Mary's body was on fire. Rubbing their bodies together, kissing wildly, Mary lying on top of Jasper removed her panties guiding Jasper's hand to her as she rubbed him to an explosive climax with her body. Jasper continued his caresses till her body shuddered in joy, her passion finally releasing her sexual tension. He lowered her and lying side by side held her, gently rocking her.
    .....

Jasper had taken the day off, his first in many months. He got in his light blue Bel Air marveling at the stylishness of his car. It had been the most popular car for many years. Of course, the 53 models were absolutely the best ever. Jasper had worked hard, never turning down any overtime opportunity for more than a year. He had saved every penny he could, not many others who worked for $1.20 per hour could have bought a six-year-old Bel Air. Living at home with his father and packing a lunch to work on most days had made his dream come true.
He threw the blankets on the vinyl back seat, got in, started the car and turned on the radio. The station was playing the immensely popular "Mack the Knife" and Jasper listened to the Bobby Darin tune till he parked in front of Sam's Grocery. He picked up bread, ham, cheese, tomatoes, apples, cookies, and Coca Cola. He talked to Sam for a minute and hurried out.    
He turned the dial till he found Buddy Holly's "Heartbeat". Tapping his foot on the gas pedal, he proceeded towards Ryan Street. He spotted Mary hurrying towards him. She looked ravishing in her light yellow dress. His eyes widened when he realized her ample breasts were pushing against the dress unrestrained.    
He hurriedly kissed her on the cheek when she got in. "Any problems?" asked Jasper.
"No Jas, Pa got drunk last night and hasn't woken up yet. He can't tell no difference anyway", she said. Mary always called him "Jas"; he loved to listen to his name from those lips and Mary knew he liked it. She almost never used "You", sticking to the preferred "Jas".
The sky had turned slightly cloudy adding more color to this late spring day. The car turned north towards Barr Lake. Mary slid over the hump in the middle of the floor, putting her left arm around Jasper, pressing her breast to his side. "I ain't wearing a bra today", she smiled, her eyes bright and mischievous. Now that they were out of her neighborhood, she was completely relaxed and fearless, loving the beginning of the suspenseful, mysterious day they were going to have.
The forty-five minute drive from Denver to Barr Lake was exciting. Jasper and Mary kissed repeatedly, arousing each other, laughing and teasing, their eyes bright with excitement and anticipation, they finally pulled off the road and parked under a tree, away from the road.    
Carrying their picnic supplies, they walked around, picking a well-shaded, dry spot uncluttered by others. Jasper spread the blankets next to a large spruce and sat down, his back supported by the tree. This was a nice secluded spot, with the tree providing additional cover. Mary walked to the lake, breathing the fresh air. Satisfied by the lack of people, she walked back to their spot, removed her shoes and sat across from Jasper.      
"There ain't no one here, is there?" asked Jasper. Mary smiled and shook her head.
"Are you hungry yet?"       
"No Jas." Mary looked at him and putting her head in his lap lay down, looking up at the sunrays blinking through the tree. She sighed and closed her eyes. She reached up to find his left hand and held it in both her hands as she relaxed. Jasper stared at her angelic face for a while, when he couldn't bear it any longer, he moved his right hand over to her breast, gently caressing her nipple. She murmured approvingly.
He shifted to a lying position and started to unbutton her dress. Mary helped him with the bottom two buttons. He slid his hands under her dress and cupped both her breasts. "I can lie like this for ever," he whispered. She smiled and he felt her nipples harden.
He kissed her hair, then parted her hair and kissed her ear, then the tip of her nose, then her upper lip, her lower lip; her left eye, right eye, forehead. He traced a circle around her face with his kisses, finally coming back to her parted lips and pushed his tongue in her mouth. Her tongue flashed to meet his, caressing his tongue, sliding in and out of his mouth, sharing her softness with his, quickening their breathing.
He unzipped his jeans, and she helped him remove her panties, wriggling out of them slowly, and seductively. Moving slowly he glided himself into her welcoming warmth. Pushing slowly at first and holding each other, exchanging kisses and caressing their bodies, they launched into their sexual journey. With their eyes closed, feeling each other's movements, breathing each other's breath, smelling each other's sweat, tasting each other's mouth, meeting each other's body, in heavenly harmony, they exploded.
They lay cuddled together for a long time. "I love you, so much Jas," Mary whispered repeatedly.
Jasper opened one of the small bottles of Coca Cola and sipped contently, passing it to Mary occasionally. Mary fixed the sandwiches and they ate hungrily. Munching on apples, barefoot, they walked to the lake. Mary waded in holding her dress. Jasper took off his shirt and Jeans and swam towards the middle of the lake occasionally looking back, yelling joyously, dipping his head in the water; refreshing himself.
    .....

As the afternoon heat dried their bodies, they drifted into sleep. Jasper awoke but did not move. Mary's head was resting on his left arm. He gazed at her face and knew this was the ultimate answer he was looking for. His quest had ended. He knew he would marry her one-day, and knew that if there ever was a heaven, its name was Mary. Mary, as if reading his thoughts, smiled and woke up.
This time it was Mary who took control. She kissed him lightly and unzipped him slowly, massaging him to hardness. She pinned down his hands and traced her tongue over his face, pushing her breasts on his hairy chest. He enjoyed her love making, letting her know of his approval by chanting her name. She moved up and down and around, moving him inside of her, firing his senses. His eyes widening, he shuddered, reached up and held her tightly to him.
When the cool breeze from the lake picked up, they headed back. With their arms around one another, they pledged their loves to each other. Their faces alive with wonder, their hearts pounding, they got back to their old lives having undergone a miraculous metamorphosis.  
.....



Chapter 5  ... The Conception
They continued their love making, reaching a point in their relationship where they had grown comfortable with each other's body. They had learnt from each other and were exploring each other's bodies feverishly every time they had a chance. Their growing familiarity had made them careless and their affair was common knowledge among the town-folks.
When Philip Craden, Jasper's father, heard about his son's involvement with Mary, he talked to his son, "Jas, I don't care much for that Mary. Her dad is a drunkard, you know. There are a lot more pretty girls around, and you got a good job, why don't you date some of these other girls around?"
"I don't care for nobody else Pa"; said Jasper. His courage had built up enough that he could face his father without much fear. Being more or less independent the last few months had helped him grow up. Mary and her love had provided what ever he was lacking in becoming a complete man.
"Well! It's none of my business. It's your choice, just don't get her knocked up, you know what I mean?" said Philip.
"I don't know what you are talking about Pa", Jasper was infuriated and blushing as he left the house bothered by his father's intuitiveness.
Mary's father was more understanding or perhaps less caring. "I heard you really like that Craden kid, huh Mary?" he said one night when he got home in time to have supper with his two daughters. Elizabeth would come home every now and then and spend a few hours with Mary. The two sisters were very close having developed an affection from childhood that had withstood all that had happened to them growing up together. Lizzy, as Mary called her, was three years older than Mary, married just two short years, she lived a few blocks away and came over often. She was only seven when their mother had passed away. She had become a mother to Mary and still felt that she had to protect her from the big bad world that was out there waiting for her innocent little sister. She had often sheltered Mary from their father's anger and stopped him again, "Why don't you wash up real quick and Mary will go fetch your supper?"
When he finally joined them, he carried on; "these young boys are just after one thing, you gotta be careful. He looks like a nice clean kid, but those are the kind you gotta watch out for."
"Pa, Jasper is gonna marry her, they love each other," said Lizzy. "You ain't gotta worry about her. It's you I really worry about. What after Mary is gone. Who's gonna take care of you, the way you carry on and stuff? What's gonna happen to you? Mary is a big girl now, and can take care of herself. What are we gonna do about you, Pa?"
Mary heaved a sigh of relief. Lizzy had steered her dad away from Mary to himself. And Mary hadn't told Lizzy about the extent of her relationship yet. She could always count on Lizzy to help her. She decided to tell her almost all, as they walk back to Lizzy's home tonight, after supper. Yes, she owed her that.
    .....

Jasper's heart was pounding. His dad was going to Iowa for two months to help his older brother around the farm, just as he did each year. His uncle had a large farm and enjoyed his younger brother's company around the house and the farm, paying him more than he would have to pay some one else, but doing it willingly to help his brother out. Philip would walk around feeling important, and thankful for the extra money he made every year.
As his father got on the Greyhound bus bound for Carroll, Iowa, Jasper headed back to home. It was still light but darkness wasn't far away. He looked towards the west and saw the crimson sunset over the few strands of clouds across the Rockies. The brilliant colors were extraordinarily bright today, sharing Jasper's excitement perhaps.
Mary was excited by the wickedness of what they had planned. She hardly ate any supper and was glad when her father arrived home, demanding to be fed. Her responsibility over, she sat in the faded green armchair on the porch, her heart pounding uncontrollably while she waited for him to go to bed.           
A little past nine, just when Jasper, desperately excited, not able to bear the suspense any longer, drove across Ryan street for the second time, he saw the lights go out in Mary's home. Smiling, his heart racing, he pulled to the curb waiting.
Mary slid into his car kissing him as she snuggled up to him. Jasper drove straight to home, too excited to care about anything except the next few hours.
Mary insisted on leaving the light on in his bedroom; "I want to see your body, I want to make love just like married folks do." She disrobed for him slowly, putting her clothes in a neat pile on his dresser. She helped him take his clothes off next, admiring his body and flattered by his hungry eyes feeding on her nakedness. They kissed slowly, tasting each other. He ran his hands over the length of her body admiring her smooth skin. She sat down on the bed and pulled him next to her. They kissed, their hands seeking, guiding, exploring, caressing, and igniting. Jasper stared at her pink nipples, excitement building as he, holding her breasts, tasted her again and again. Their lovemaking was feverish, this abandonment was too much for Jasper, and he climaxed quickly. Mary breathing heavily held him as he regained his desire and this time met her needs gently, but surely. Mary, her eyes closed, shrieked in pleasure as Jasper drove her wild with his deliberate movements, responding to her every move, building to a climax they had not imagined possible.    
    ......

Later, while driving her back to her home, he turned to Mary, "You know we should get married. I want us to be together forever."
"We are too young, Jas."
"But I can't bear to be away from you for any length of time. I love you so much Mary."
"I love you too;" she became flushed with happiness, "I am not quite eighteen yet, Jas."
"Well I am ready to be married, if you are."
"I wanna wait till I finish school, till I am eighteen." She snuggled up to him and kissed him, feeling warm all over.
The two delicious months went by too fast for Jasper. They had talked a little more about the possibility of getting married soon. Mary's energies had been focused on pleasing Jasper and herself. She was not quite eighteen yet, and wanted to wait for that. She also felt a little guilty about the thought of leaving her father.
The last week of June had been hot, Jasper's father was to return in July and Mary and Jasper had spent many a night together. Once Mary drifted to sleep in Jasper's arms waking barely in time to wake him up to drive her home, for her to sneak in before her father awoke.
She barely noticed it till she went over the calendar and counting the days, knew that she was eight days overdue. She was scared and screamed at herself, "What am I going to do? Why did this have to happen? Maybe if I wait long enough ... it will happen ... everything would be fine. I must talk to Lizzy. What's Pa going to do when he finds out?" She sat on her bed shivering with helplessness.
She waited for Lizzy to show up. When Lizzy finally showed up that Wednesday night, she whispered, "I need to talk to you after supper, away from Pa. I am in big trouble!"
Lizzy knew what had happened. The last few months had brought a change in her younger sister. Mary had blossomed. She looked happy, contented, and in a dreamlike state. Her body had also changed, she was surer in her walk and was more aware of the power of her body. Lizzy knew, without being told that Mary had started having sex with Jasper. When Mary told her she wanted to talk to her, the desperation was quite obvious. There were only two things that could cause it, Jasper breaking off with her, or Mary getting pregnant, or both.                                              Lizzy had been married for two years and was looking forward to having children. She wanted a child soon, now that she felt they had reached a point in their married life where a child will help the relationship grow. She was young and had many childbearing years ahead of her. She had grown comfortable with her routine of meeting her sister and father every two or three days. Sometimes for a few minutes, other times she would bring in food or help cook supper and stay for a few hours. She felt like a mother to Mary and enjoyed sharing her new secrets.
After supper, when Mary and Lizzy went for a walk, Mary broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, she told Lizzy about the cessation of her period. Lizzy hugged her, "Does Jas know about it yet, Mary? You got to tell him right away. And Pa, too. I wonder what he will say? He could get mad for nothing you know."     
"I will see Jas on Friday for sure; but I don't know how and what to tell him. What do I say, Lizzy?"                              "Don't worry, Mary. You tell Jas you are gonna have his baby, you must talk to him about getting married. He loves you, for sure, don't he? How old is he?"
"He's just over twenty, Lizzy. I know he loves me and he has said he will marry me, but he ain't twenty one yet, and I ain't eighteen yet either."
"So, how you gonna tell Pa? ... I tell you what, you talk to Jas on Friday, then come see me Saturday, maybe I can tell him so that he doesn't get mad. He won't like it. He ain't ready to take care of himself yet. But you don't worry about him. Come see me Saturday and we will figure out what to do."
Mary was reassured by Lizzy's words. She knew she could always take her problems to Lizzy and they would all be solved. This however was extreme and no matter what and how, she knew she would have to face the future without the help of Lizzy, but for now it felt good to know  that she could count on Lizzy one more time. 
.....

Jasper sensed something was terribly wrong, as soon as he spotted Mary. Her face was pale, her eyes seemed to avoid his, and she had a desperation about her that puzzled him. It did not take long for Mary to break down and spill her heart. Jasper was amazed at how strong he felt. He held her in his arms till she stopped sobbing. "You don't have to worry so much, Mary.  I am gonna take care of you. We are gonna get married and will have a good life together. You talk to your pa and I will talk to mine. I'll be twenty-one in October, and you're gonna be eighteen in two months. Worse comes to worse, we can split this town." He smiled hoping things will not turn out that badly.
Things got worse. The next time they met, Mary was bewildered, angry and not sure of anything. Her father had thrown a tantrum. Lizzy's presence had helped, but her father refused to accept the fact that his Mary could be having a baby. "Mary's a virgin. She's always been a virgin and will be a virgin till she got married. I don't wanna hear anything else. If I see that boy ever again I am gonna break his legs."
Philip Craden was not pleased either; "I told you that Mary was trash Jasper. Don't you ever listen to me? I don't want you to marry that gal, and I don't ever want you to bring her here. This is my house and I won't have her in my house, no matter what. And don't go around knocking up any girls in our town, you hear me?"
And so, the plan was hatched. They would get married on November 20th, just a few days after Jasper would turn twenty-one. Lizzy would help them all she can. Jasper had heard of some building contractors in Phoenix that could use him in installations and design. His boss was willing to give him references and make phone calls if needed.
    .....

Lizzy and George were the only two witnesses at the Justice of the Peace. Lizzy had helped them get the necessary papers and Mary though nearly five months pregnant, did not show it. She managed a smile along with her countless tears as she embraced Lizzy for the final goodbye. Jasper thanked both of them, assuring them that he will take care of Mary, and not to worry about them. Lizzy slipped him twenty dollars for gas and food and holding George's hand, watched as they got in the Bel Air and left for a new life.    
.....


Chapter 6  ... The Coming of Jacob
The day had been overcast from the beginning. A winter storm was on its way from the northwest. Jasper was a little worried. They had planned to drive through New Mexico to Arizona. Arizona would be nice and pleasant but getting out of Colorado and New Mexico will take a day or more if they came across snow. And it started snowing as they headed south. A light, boring drizzle that went on for miles.
The drive was very emotional and tiring for both of them. They had talked repeatedly about their future, their finances, and the approaching birth of their baby. Mary had been scared and desperate, but Jasper's repeated assurances had finally soothed her fears. She had snuggled up to him, talking about how being married felt like and had slowly drifted to sleep. He pulled off at a picnic spot for their cold lunch.  After lunch Mary's spirits had improved. She talked excitedly about the baby. She was sure it was going to be a boy, she could feel his strength inside. She had come up with a name for him - Jacob! Equally relieved and happy, Jasper had teased her. He was sure it was going to be a girl, and of course he had a perfect name for her - Samantha!
Their spirits lifted, once again they headed south on the freeway. As if it had been waiting for them, the snowstorm intensified. The visibility dropped and the road became slippery. His eyes wide with concentration, Jasper drove for another two hours, finally tired and exhausted he decided to pull over to rest for a while. He could feel the car overheating, a little worried he turned off the car. They sat covered with blankets and holding hands, quietly watching the mesmerizing snowflakes.
"Do you know where we are, Jas?" asked Mary, sensing there was something wrong.
"We are either in New Mexico, or just near the border. The car is probably heating up, so we're gonna sit here for a while and then go on." He grasped Mary's hand under the blanket, trying to give her an assurance that he himself did not feel. 
They sat there for an hour, but it felt like an eternity. The sun hadn't shone the whole day, and it was rapidly getting dark. Jasper started driving cautiously. The car protested as it climbed Raton Pass. Now, that Jasper knew where he was, he felt better, more in control. He had hoped to reach Albuquerque by nightfall, but now he knew that they would not make it. The storm had grown worse as night approached.
When they were back on level terrain, Jasper told Mary to look for lights, any buildings, a shelter to pull over and get a warm place to sleep in. The temperature was already down to zero and Jasper did not want to continue for too long.
Mary spotted the dim light in the distance. They could make out a house with no lights on and an adjacent barn with a faint light. He drove towards the farmhouse and walked up to the front door. It was locked. Puzzled he walked to the barn, unlatched the door and looked inside. There were two cows, three horses and an assortment of chickens, ducks, dogs and cats. The dogs ran up to him, barking, their tails moving excitedly. There was straw scattered all over the rough wooden floor, and a large water trough in a corner. The place was not warm, but it was sheltered well from the storm. The window with a broken glass panel, was the biggest source of cold in the barn.
Jasper and Mary carried their blankets in and spent the first night of their marriage in a barn with two friendly dogs and cats that snuggled up to them for comfort.
It was snowing harshly. The wind howled as Mary stumbled onto the barn full of farm animals. Where was she? She spotted Jasper in the center, he had made a bed of straw. He had found some lanterns from somewhere and those were the only source of light in the barn. Mary could feel the baby beginning to move towards the birth canal. Jasper placed some blankets under her head and told her to relax. She felt cold as her water broke. The baby was ready to come out. Driven by her instinct, she started pushing. It was taking too long, was the baby stuck? Will he survive? Can he make it alive? She was panic-stricken. With clenched teeth she pushed for the umpteenth time and with a small cry Jacob was born. Jasper put Jacob in Mary's arms. She was completely exhausted.
She opened her eyes and tried to accustom herself to the familiarity of this barn, which was only slightly different from the one in her dream. As if to remind her, the baby kicked her. She was overwhelmed with emotion and lay awake for a long time, listening to the storm and Jasper's occasional movements.
    .....

They left right after daybreak. The storm was dying down and the sun was promising to come out. Jasper felt better, his body ached a little, but the daylight was assuring. By the time they reached Santa Fe, the sky cleared, a bright sun was warming the countryside. The hot Mexican food was good. The hot coffee was even better. The drive into Phoenix was smooth, uneventful, rather boring, but restful for Mary. She recovered from the horrors of her dream of the childbirth by sleeping all the way to Phoenix.
Phoenix was good for Jasper. The very first contractor - Gambell & Gambell, hired him on the spot. Jasper was on the job the very next day, familiarizing himself with the ways of the building industry. The work was easy and plenty. Jasper established himself as a hard working, knowledgeable, craftsman.
Mary got their home ready for the baby. She had gained weight, enjoying the fulfillment that married life provided. She missed Lizzy terribly but wrote to her occasionally, keeping the relationship alive.
    .....

March the seventeenth arrived. Mary had an almost painless childbirth. It was a boy. She had been right all along. She held Jacob in her arms and looked into his deep brown eyes, feeling a special bond for him. He was the result of such a lot of love, pain, and heartbreak. His need for her, his total dependence on her, made her life complete.
Jasper though devoted to Mary and little Jacob, was getting more involved in his work, spending long hours designing, consulting, being creative, using an intellectual side of him that was extremely fulfilling. He was making better money now, and though not a member of the Gambell family, he felt comfortable, wanted, and trusted.
Jacob was an intense child. He would stare at an object for hours, once he had studied it, he would tire of it and move onto another. He was moody and other than being with Mary, wanted to be left alone.
Jacob was nearing his second birthday and Mary was pregnant with Samantha, when Lizzy finally wrote to her telling about her own pregnancy. Mary couldn't be happier. Life was good. She wanted to visit her sister, but knew she could not do it at this stage of her pregnancy.
Samantha and Jeff were born within a month of each other. When Mary finally visited Lizzy with Jacob and Samantha and saw little Jeff, so bouncy and friendly, she felt a joy that she knew would not be matched in her lifetime. Jacob, who hadn't cared much for Samantha, took a liking to Jeff. 
    .....

Jasper worked harder, making more money to buy a bigger house for his ever-growing family. The years were not kind to Jasper. His face grew older as his home filled up with five children in nine years. He had grown tired of the countless routine of diapers and doctors and schools and bills and the life that he had thought of with just Mary in it had acquired too many others, pushing them a little farther apart every year.    
Mary loved her children. With each new one there was more joy to be had, more happiness to be shared. She loved the sounds of her children filling her home. She was unaware of the effect her growing family was having on her oldest son.
At first, Jacob missed the love and the attention, the absolute control he had over his parents. He grew feeling a little different. He accepted that he had to share them with his sister Samantha. But with Kathryn, then Rodney and finally Matthew, it was too much, he never got over the loss of being the center of his world and felt neglected and unloved.
He grew up first feeling neglected, then accepting it and finally adopting an attitude that he didn't need any one. He did not need the attention these young kids did. He knew everything there was to know. He felt superior, and did not want to be with his own brothers and sisters. His youngest brother Matthew doted on him, following him around like a little puppy.
Samantha and Kathryn left him pretty much alone. His moodiness and dislike of their make-believe games and his refusal to join them when they needed him to make up a fourth, finally did make him alone. He would walk around the house, or the street, observing, studying, understanding and rejecting.
When he was ten, one day he picked up a stray puppy, a mixed breed that showed up from nowhere but started running around him following him and sniffing him. He liked the little dog and petted him. Trying to keep it a secret, he sneaked some bread from the house and fed him. The puppy attached himself to Jacob. He took a little rope and tied the puppy to the split-rail fence that ran around the house, keeping him as far from the house as he could. That night he woke up. The dog was yelping as if in pain. Jacob had kept the fact of the puppy a secret from everyone. He dared not get up and check it. The yelping stopped in a while, and Jacob went back to bed. 
When he woke up the next day, he ran to the back, to play with his new puppy. He saw the brownish white puppy draped over the lower rail of the fence, dead. He had apparently, tried to free himself in the night and in his panic had run several times around the fencepost that he had been tied to and had jumped over the lower rail hanging himself. His cries had woken Jacob but had not helped him survive.        
Jacob looked at the puppy and tears filled his eyes. "What a useless, lying, stupid world is this?" he sobbed, raising his fist to the sky. "I will get even for this," he said, blinded by his pain, anger and helplessness. He untied the puppy not liking the feel of the cold dead body. He carried it to the field by the house and threw it on a pile of weeds and dead wood.
After that Jacob never had another pet in his life, but he did grow a little protective towards his brothers and sisters. He hated to show his emotions, but would pick up little Matthew every now and then and talk to him, bonding with him.
And then Jacob turned twelve. 
.....



Chapter 7  ... The Calculation
Jacob's mind was racing, it was calculating, trying to understand what and who he was. He had heard his mother speak of her marriage many a times ... the day in November, when the weather had turned ugly, and when they had to drive out of Denver in a blinding snow storm. Now, he was trying to understand how his birth five months later could have come without his mother conceiving before she got married. He had finally made the connection between their first year of marriage, his arrival and the length of time needed to bring a pregnancy to term.
It was hard at twelve to accept that he could be a "bastard." He confronted Mary with, "How could you make me a bastard? I was born within five months of your marriage, how could you do this to me!"    
Mary hugged Jacob and tried to soothe his irrationality, "You are not a bastard, never ever say that again. Who told you this nonsense? You are very legitimate, you silly fool. A bastard is someone born outside of marriage. You were just a little bit early. Your father and I have always loved you and always will. What a strange way your mind works? We love you Jacob. We love you very much. You better know that. You do know that. Don't you?" She could feel his heart beating wildly and tears that wanted to flow, fighting his will to control them. She held him tightly, her tears flowing easily, trying to make him feel all the love that she had for him.
Jacob, relieved of his fear of confrontation and amazed at the strength that he had in controlling his own tears, grew up that day. He put a lot of distance between himself and all others, relishing the idea of being strong like a rock even though not sure of the limits of his vulnerability. The underlying anger he felt towards his mother and father was to last forever, so would the slight resentment he felt towards his own brothers and sisters.
.....

Seventh grade in the Sentinel Middle School was almost as boring as the rest of his learning experience. He found his teachers sorely lacking. Each year, he would start to feel excited about the possibility of learning new things and would be amazed at the vast knowledge that his teachers seemed to have, but soon it would be over. The teachers never met his expectations. The lessons were nothing but repetitions of the same old things, over and over again. Whenever Jacob tried to push his teachers for more, he was surprised at the lack of depth of their knowledge, and their disinterest in providing him with anything more than the stale, daily diet of extremely tiny concepts repeated several times.
He enjoyed his speech class, developing his own method of delivering powerful speeches by sometimes following the norm and sometimes reversing it. He could make words gain power by putting stress where he deemed necessary. He could slow down the pitch of his voice and make the audience strain to hear him, or overpower them by using a throaty, booming voice. He learned to read his audience, loving the extra energy he gained from his audience. His personality started to take on a cynical, defiant edge, yet he learned to control his emotions, never letting anyone know, what he really felt.              
It was this unique mix of his strength and strangeness that got him the nomination from the faculty to be the editor of the school paper. The Sentinel Eagle had been a traditional paper, sometimes pretentious, sometimes humorous, but always staying in limits that were undefined but well understood. Jacob's winning speeches, especially his style had won him some supporters among the faculty and when he asked to be allowed to write the monthly editorials for the obscure school paper, he was handed the job without contest.
His first editorial hit the first edition of the 73-74 year, causing a commotion. He had picked his subject deliberately. Richard Nixon had won the presidency, the Vietnam War had ended, at least everyone hoped so. Jacob had picked up the religious doctrine prevalent among the school kids, analyzed it and rejected it. He felt that accepting the beliefs that religion fostered somehow diminished his own power. He wanted to be powerful and by contradicting the religious ideas and stories with logic he felt powerful. In his own mind, Jacob had been boiling with ideas of how to expose the ugly underbelly of the religious institutions controlling the daily lives of all. September 24th, the first issue of the Sentinel Eagle carried his editorial
"Religion: the Tool of Manipulation"
"Our daily lives are controlled by religious doctrines of acceptable behavior and the morality of our actions. The meaning of morality literally goes to the basic definition of good and bad. When society, coerced by the church, accepts a behavior or thought or action as good and labels another as bad, it is committing a fraud, perhaps unconsciously on its citizens.
First, we are taught that we are sinners by birth, because of birth. This so-called concept of "Original Sin" is so ridiculous, that how anyone accepts it is beyond logical comprehension? We are already labeled at birth and accused; no, not accused, but branded a sinner. The most innocent new baby, the very definition of innocence, has been brutally defiled by Christian religion. Before the newborn child can even formulate a conscious thought, he has already been condemned.
If that wasn't enough, we are also expected to meekly follow our destiny. Everything is predestined, and we cannot change it. Any human being that accepts that accepts an insult to humanity, an insult to what makes us human ... our spirit ... our very souls. That everything is fixed and we cannot change it, is in itself the most immoral statement pushed down the throats of society. The essence of man, the normality of man is good.
And man remains good till he accepts the religious doctrine that he is born a sinner and cannot change it. Once accepted, the load gets heavier and harder.
Perhaps, the most interesting aspect of the power of religion is the simplicity of its illogic. The success of all these religious doctrines require the consent of the victim. All the victim has to do is to open his eyes and reject these absurdities. Without the sanction of the "sacrificial sheep", all power of the church would be reduced to nothing." 
The editorial carried a comment by the faculty editor Mr. Jerry Sebastian. He explained that though the student editorial seemed to be radical, these thoughts and ideas had been expressed before, that religion was a matter of faith and not logic. It was nice to see thought provoking ideas expressed in this new year and he hoped that the courage displayed in this first issue will continue through the rest of the school year, and will explore all kinds of political, religious and social issues.
    .....

Jerry Sebastian almost lost his job. He was lucky that even though he gave the final approval before the paper could be printed, he had talked to some of the other faculty, who seemed a little impressed and a little amused by the seriousness of the article. His thoughtfulness in adding his comment to Jacob's article had portrayed the right effect that should come from an older, wiser teacher.
A week later, when the excitement had died down, Jerry asked Jacob to see him after school. Jacob walked into his office and sat down on one of the guest chairs in the small office. Jerry got up from his desk, came around and shook his hand, "That was a pretty good article you wrote Jacob. I liked your thought process and the way you expressed your thoughts."
Jacob smiled, "Thank you, sir. I wasn't sure, if people will understand or appreciate what I wrote, and how I wrote."
"You have a good head on your shoulders, son. I liked the command of the language you displayed. It was a good article, and we got in a little bit of trouble for it. I would just suggest that you stay away from attacking religion. You understand."
Jacob understood.  He had long understood the mechanics of subtle manipulations in and around his life.
"Don't worry Mr. Sebastian. I meant to cover politics and football next."
They both smiled. "The reason I wanted to talk to you is that you could work as an intern at the Phoenix Daily Times. If you are interested, I will send your name to them. They pay nicely and you learn a lot by actually working in the industry. The work may not be very challenging, but you have a chance to learn and to decide if you would like to do this as a career. You can also see how a big newspaper is run and if you would like to adopt journalism as a career."
Jacob was puzzled. He did not know if he was being punished or rewarded or what. He filled out an application and left the school deep in thought.
    ....

Jasper was cranky and irritable; he had never smoked but was developing a chronic cough. The sawdust that he had been breathing for most of his life had invaded his lungs, punishing him. The years had not been kind to him. He was annoyed by Jacob's article, "I know we are not very religious Jacob, but we are not against the church either. I would like you to apologize to the bishop next time he comes around. Where do you get such ideas from, anyway?"
"I am not apologizing to no one," Jacob was defiant; "I wrote the basic truth, as I understand it. I did not make up any lies or half-truths. I do not believe in God or church."
Jasper had a violent coughing attack and Jacob brought him a glass of cool water. Jasper put his hand over Jacob's head and patted him affectionately, not understanding the working of his own son's mind. "I don't know son, we never learned stuff like that or talked like that in my school."
Mary walked in with Matthew trailing behind her. She had a worried look on her face, "You got to go back to the doctor, Jas. You sound pretty bad."
"These doctors don't know what they are doing. I don't think they can get rid of this anymore." Jasper hacked again.
"Mom, can I work part time at the Phoenix Daily, if I get the job? My teacher said I could probably get it, but I will need your approval to work." Jacob had chosen this moment carefully, to ask his mother in presence of his father, knowing this would be the best chance for him to get them to agree.
    .....

Jacob was very cheerful. He handed the approved application to Jerry Sebastian, who forwarded it to the Phoenix Daily with a letter of recommendation and a copy of Jacob's article.
Jacob was assigned to the city desk pool of assistants and spent most of his weekends and some evenings running around town with one of the reporters, assisting them with equipment, lunch, or whatever they needed. He would also take their notes and type out parts of their stories for them to finalize. He learned to do research for the reporters and used his newfound skills for his studies and the school paper. The reporters liked to have this young kid around, who would often surprise them with his genius, assisting them in solving problems that would come up with ease and a clear understanding of the outcome, from obtaining press cards to the mayoral briefings, to obtaining access to the nuclear physicist at the Arizona Nuclear Medicine Institute. Hank Silva, the senior city desk reporter, took a liking to Jacob and became his mentor, allowing him to write an occasional story, opening the world of journalism for him.  
    .....

Jacob's part time job opened his eyes to the rest of the world and its complex workings. His group of friends was increasing as his time spent with them was decreasing. Michael Simons and Andy Imberg became his closest friends. They wanted to form a group with its own identity. Andy was more aggressive than most thirteen-year-old kids, he said, "I think we should call ourselves "The Jaguars" GRRRRR!"
Michael was more down to earth and suggested "Jacob's True or Truth Association, we are searching for our own truths and defining our view of life."
Jacob nodded, "I like the sound of that. We want to call ourselves what we think we are. Are we crusaders? Are we violent criminals? Are we antisocial thrill-seekers?" He paused and continued, "I think we are trying to establish a sense of truth based on what is our reality, what we accept as reality and what we want to be our reality.  Our own reality that simply rejects all irrational concepts." Of course Jacob always knew what they needed and they settled for his suggestion "Jacob's Reality Group."   
.....



Chapter 8  ... Michael
Jacob had seen the seven kids ahead of them. They were moving suspiciously but Andy and Michael were unaware of the impending doom. Andy turned to look back and saw the gang, "Jacob there are those sons of bitches ahead of us. Shit! I don't think this is going to end up good. Oh! Shit."
"Don't forget the power of logic, we can talk and out-smart them. Be cool. Don't let them see that you are scared or even that you notice them, that there's something wrong here."
"That is if they don't start beating the crap out of us first. I am going to run the first chance I get. They are too big and too many. We don't stand a chance." Michael was scared. His heart started to pound in his chest.
"Let's be cool and just walk around them as if nothing is wrong." Jacob mentally crossed his fingers and considered their plight. School was over fifteen minutes ago. The five of them had hung around the playground as usual. And now the goons were going to get them. He recognized most of them. They were from the ninth or the tenth grade, older and bigger and hated Jacob's group for getting so much attention, especially from the girls. So far, they had avoided a physical confrontation, but today the bullies were ready to corner and torture their prey.   
The five of them moved forward. The gang ahead shifted nervously and started to spread out as if to cut off all routes of escape. Big Bill shouted, "Here come the loonies. Jacob Freaks. Let's get them." They started running towards them.
Michael heard big Bill's words and started to run, away from the gang, away from everyone. Three of them took after Michael, while the other four started beating up on the remaining four. 
Michael was running to his left and saw that Steve would cut him off. Ugly Steve had sprinted ahead and was now circling in to catch little Michael. Michael was mad with anger and afraid of the pending humiliation. He bent his head and flew straight into Steve, ramming his head in his stomach. Steve gasped in pain, his eyes full of tears, he collapsed in a heap.
Michael was too stunned by his success and stood up glaring at Big Bill and the other kid coming up on him. Big Bill hit him in the stomach and as Michael tried to kick the two, Big Bill held him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. The other kid hit him twice in the stomach screaming, "You bastards, ... sons of bitches."
Michael looked towards the others. Jacob and Andy were throwing punches blindly. Matthew was trying to egg them on and Jacob was trying his hardest to protect him. It was almost comical. Michael tried to wriggle out of Big Bill's grasp but could barely move. He bent his knees half in pain, half in fright muttering, "Let me go. Son of a bitch. Let me go."
Big Bill laughed. Michael bent his knees further and then pushed up straightening suddenly, pushing his head back and upward, hitting Big Bill squarely under the jaw with the top of his head. Big Bill screamed in pain and put his hand up to his mouth. Three teeth had been knocked out; there was blood in his mouth and on the front of his shirt. He looked at the teeth in his hand and all the blood. It was too scary. He started to wail loudly. The fighting stopped. 
.....

The group walked towards Jacob's home talking excitedly. Jacob laughed loudly, "Here is our Hercules." Michael grinned sheepishly as Andy patted his head, "Our savior, the fighter."
"You guys", he said smiling with pride.
"What happened? What came over you? You were like a mean fighting machine."
"I guess I was angry and mad ... yeah, and scared ... they had me cornered. It just made me mad like hell. I just wanted to kick and punch and kill them. When Big Bill held me like that it made me feel even worse. There was no way I was going to let them humiliate me like that. No way in hell."
They laughed and patted each other. Now, they had a fighter among them. And Michael's fear had been killed by the incident. He felt fearless and powerful. He became powerful. The group felt secure and protected and Michael liked how it made him feel. He knew he would feel this protective feeling towards Jacob and the group forever.
.....

High school was about to be over and Jacob had been trying to secure a scholarship to study journalism. He walked over to Michael's home one Saturday morning to discuss their future plans. Michael had been applying to the same schools as Jacob, hoping to be together through college.
"You know Michael, you are really lucky. You don't have to worry about money to go to college."
"Well, I still have to convince my dad to let me go to UCLA or Michigan or wherever the heck you end up at. They cost more than Arizona especially with the out of state tuition. What has been happening with your applications?"
"Well my dad can't afford to pay any out of state tuition. I need a scholarship. Without a scholarship, I will be stuck here in Phoenix. I am lucky that Hank Silva at the Phoenix Daily is trying to help me. He is an alumnus of Michigan. He thinks that I have a pretty good chance of getting in there."
"Have you heard anything from them?"
"No, but Hank is going to call them up next week to make things happen."
" Do you really want to go to Michigan? That's too far away and cold and nasty."
"They have a good journalism program there. And don't forget the Wolverines. They got a great football team. We will have fun, if we make it there. No parents, no brothers and sisters, no little kids. I can't wait."
"And what about our friends here? What about the Reality group."
"I am sure it will survive. We will start another group when we get to the campus. I am not stopping the direction that it has given me. Journalism is a step towards that. We need to be more polished, more mature, more believable, more acceptable."
"I will miss Phoenix, but I am ready to be independent and on my own, completely free."
.....

Ann Arbor was covered in a gray light. Michael got off the bus and looked around in disgust. A cold September in Michigan was nothing new to the locals, but Michael felt the cold dig into his bones.
The two of them parted company soon. Jacob heading to his dorm and Michael to his. He was roomed with another freshman from the engineering school. Daniel and Michael were soon good pals, attending some classes together and occasionally spending a Saturday afternoon watching the football game. Michael's contact with Jacob weakened in the beginning but picked up in subsequent semesters. Jacob had joined a group from the journalism school, often taking part in debates. When he invited Michael to join them and become a better speaker, Michael's fear of public speaking made him shiver.
"No, I can't do that. I don't want to do that. You are good at it. I am too scared man. I don't want to stand in front of a bunch of people. I am afraid I will make a fool of myself."
"You must do it Michael. We will need to work together to create the Reality concept here. I will do all I can. But I want you to take charge."
"Hey, I will help you all I can. Just keep me out of the speech making business. I just can't see myself do that kind of stuff. You are the main force behind Reality. You will always be the one in charge. I will do whatever else needs to be done. Just leave me in the background."
In the end, reluctantly Jacob gave in.
.....

The second semester brought spring and warmth. The snow that had turned to ice disappeared and Michael felt back to normal. He was home sick and wanted to go back to Phoenix, even if just for a short time. April third was a Wednesday; Michael was sitting in the library bored with his assignment that was half done. He wondered where to go. He looked at his watch, nine O'clock; "Damn it's dark already. I wonder if I will find Jacob in his dorm room."
He left the library taking a shortcut through the trees. He was lost in his own thoughts and took a longer time to realize there was something wrong up ahead. He slowed down. Two people were struggling and then he heard it, "No, damn it. Leave me alone. Don't touch me."
The voice sounded like Denise's from his Physics class. He turned towards the two. He recognized her easily, it was Denise, with her short blond hair and a thin body. He could not recognize the boy. He seemed to be bigger and stronger, perhaps a senior. He jerked her around and stood facing her. She was trembling. He slapped her and ripped open her top. She screamed.
Michael ran towards the two shouting "What the hell do you think you are doing? What's going on?"
"None of your damn business. Get the hell out of here."
"Are you all right Denise?" he moved towards her putting himself in the older boys face.
"Thank God. Help me get back. Don't leave me Michael."
"Don't worry, I am here for you."
The older boy looked around. There was no one around. He hit Michael in the face and turned to hit him again. Michael recoiled from the sudden attack and kicked him straight in the stomach. As he bent forward, he hit him on the back of his head. He lay there cursing. Michael took Denise's hand and started running, half pulling half dragging her with him. When they were out of the shadow of the trees, he helped the shivering, terrified Denise into his denim jacket and walked her back to her dorm.
.....

When he asked Denise to report the guy she shook her head, "He apologized to me and I am not going to see him ever. I was too naive and could not believe someone could turn nasty like that. Anyway, you came just in time to help me. And I learned my lesson. I owe you a lot."
"I am glad I was there. You can always count on me."
The two of them grew closer as the semester progressed, finally they started dating and the relationship grew. Ann arbor seemed the most beautiful place on the earth to Michael. He could not bear to go home for the summer.
Phoenix was too hot and dry and lonely. Andy and Jacob were working during the summer and Michael would hang around his father's business running errands and dreaming of Denise. The more he stayed apart, the more he longed for her. The few phone calls he made were not enough. He would stare at the phone after the phone calls dreaming of her blue eyes, her thin lips and oval face. He longed for her thin athletic body. It was torturous.
.....



Chapter 9  ... The Consumption
Jacob felt great walking back to the apartment he shared with the other two juniors at the University of Michigan School of Journalism. He skipped through the lawn covered with reddish brown leaves that were signaling the beginning of autumn. He had finally managed to talk to that great-looking  dark haired beauty Lisa, who set his heart on fire every time he thought about her.
At twenty Jacob was one of the best looking students on campus. He was a little skinny, but at five-foot-eight, his height complimented his body. He had his father's features, dark brown eyes, full lips, a straight nose that was thinner than his father's, a hint of a wave in his long dark brown hair that covered his collar, and an attitude about him that demanded attention. He dressed well without getting flashy. He had a preference for blue denim shirts. He would roll up the sleeves partially and leave his top buttons open, giving him a casual look that he treasured.
The Journalism school had been a suggestion of Hank Silva. Jacob could sense how things fell into place when everything went right. He had scored well on the SAT. He had graduated in the top ten of his class. He had worked well at the Phoenix Daily Times, and his articles and the commendations he had accumulated easily got him a full scholarship at the University of Michigan.
The liberal, and friendly atmosphere at the campus was exactly what Jacob needed. His style attracted people easily, his voice captured their hearts, and the sincerity of his convictions captured their minds. It was hard for anyone to disagree with him, yet there were people who despised him for his popularity or for his radicalness or both.
     .....

Lisa Jorgensen was a freshman. Her parents had chosen her school, just like so many other things that were done for her. She had found it easier to let things happen than resist the powers that be. At five-foot-five she had a body that she knew men stared at. She had shoulder length black hair that curved inward at the ends, a sensuous upturned nose that ended in a perfectly rounded tip, large blue eyes and almost full lips. Her full breasts and hips and a thin waist were well revealed by the jeans and tee shirts she wore. 
She knew that Jacob could not take his eyes off her, the first time he saw her. She saw him a few times around campus and heard about him from her friends. She knew he wanted her and she liked this popular good-looking kid, who was apparently on a kick about the superiority of human beings and why they should be proud of who they were and could be. He was an occasional contributor to the Detroit Free Mirror and she was impressed by someone who could get his name in the paper.
Their first date went quite routinely. Jacob drove to Lisa's dorm to pick her up. He had a White '75 Toyota Corolla with a cassette deck that he used constantly. He had been listening to Pink Floyd's "The Wall" over and over again, rewinding to listen to "We don't need no education. We don't need no thought control. etc." He agreed with Roger Waters.
Lisa wore a tight fitting green dress that accentuated her hips and breasts. Jacob's face lit up when she walked out of the dorm. He took her hand and walked her to his car. He kept looking at her as he drove. "She is so beautiful, so perfect" he thought.
Dinner at The Royal Yellow China was good. Jacob stared at Lisa constantly, consumed by her sensual look. Lisa knew how to turn the charm on. She would run the tip of her tongue over her slightly parted lips, making Jacob's heart skip. "So, how often do you write for the Free Mirror and do you get paid for it?" She asked knowing that this would pump up his ego.
"Oh! I send them an article a week most of the time. They print some, they reject some, and they also send some back asking me to rewrite them. I get a check every couple of weeks, a few bucks, not much. What I really want to do is to write up a whole series of original issues on religion and faith and God." He waited a few seconds, sensing he was loosing her interest, "I don't mean to come across too serious or something, you know. What about you? Are you working? What do you like to do?"
"Oh, I am interested in what you are trying to do," she lied while smiling at him. She had learned to do that early on and knew it worked. Men were so weak, she knew. "No, I don't work at all. My parents send me all the money I need and I am not sure what I want to do. But I like Psychology and Behavioral Science ... I am just a freshman you know." 
He hung on to her every word. She knew the charm was working. She leaned over and kissed him, sending his head spinning. She whispered, "I like you, I know I do."
Jacob kissed her aggressively and she responded enough to push him just a little further. They left the Chinese restaurant drunk on their own youth.
Jacob wanted to go further but Lisa was becoming cooler. They stopped at the Baskin Robbins on Ford Road, went back to the dorm and walked around the campus, sometimes holding hands, sometimes kissing.
They bid each other goodnight with a lingering kiss and Lisa let him kiss her deeply as she made him feel the softness of her breasts on his chest.
    .....

The casual white top and fading jeans that Lisa wore that Saturday to the football game, made her look like a different girl altogether. Jacob brought a blanket along for the coolness of the Michigan afternoon that hits you when the sun starts fading.
The game was good and loud and Jacob proudly introduced her to all his friends that he ran into at the stadium. Lisa smiled at him a lot and drank the lukewarm beer that he got through his roommate. After the third quarter with the Wolverines ahead by 13 points and Wisconsin not able to get any offense together, the crowd started thinning. The temperature was dropping. Jacob and Lisa sat on their blanket, holding hands, kissing occasionally and feeling each other's body. 
They went back to his apartment and carried on, on the sofa. He whispered in between their kisses, "Let's go to my room." He got up and helped her up from the sofa to his room. They kept kissing as they sat on his bed. "Love you, Lisa," he kept whispering, breathing heavily. Lisa would let him put his hands down her jeans, but would push him away whenever he tried to undo them. Jacob took her hand and put it on his erection. She smiled, playing with it, teasing it, alternately squeezing it tightly and then softly massaging it. Jacob closed his eyes and began to breath loudly, moaning as he neared his climax. Lisa's lips were parted invitingly as she smiled at him, driving him crazy, he exploded. Jacob went to the bathroom, came back, his face flushed but smiling, his eyes dreamy. He kissed her, "Let's go," he said.
Lisa smiled as they walked out of his apartment, to her dorm, and kissed lightly as they parted.
    .....     

Jacob and Lisa continued to see each other somewhat regularly, their relationship getting more casual and comfortable. Their dates were the usual dinner, movie, and a long drive or football game, type of dates. There were a few special occasions like the dinner thrown by the local chapter of Choice.
Jacob was the featured speaker, his views on abortion and fiscal conservatism served them well. Lisa sat mesmerized, hanging on to his every word as he spoke.
"I support the concept of personal responsibility. The decaying fabric of our society has led to the increase in the number of unplanned pregnancies. Since we are overly protective of our human species;" he paused and smiled; "the rational way to end an unwanted pregnancy is abortion. I believe in supporting abortion to the deepest extent of our pockets. Most of these "would be default parents" have no concept of personal responsibility, they are incapable of being responsible for another, specially a child; and they are not intelligent enough or careful enough to use preventive measures to avoid pregnancy.
Burdening these people with the load of another life easily adds to the growing rolls of the socially dependent. Often these fragmented families, living on the fringe of survival, never rise beyond that, draining the resources of the social system forever and ever.
I believe in not allowing that to happen or at least in minimizing that. When added to the arguments for better quality of life for the productive and independent members of society, it makes perfect sense to spend as much as possible on preventing the fiasco of perpetual dependent segments of society."
The auditorium was filled with applause. Lisa's eyes widened, drinking in the adoration bestowed on Jacob, and second hand on her as his companion.
The question and answer session lasted a short duration with the supportive audience clarifying and enhancing Jacob's words bringing them to a mutually supportive concept with the goals of the Choice organization.     
Lisa had been aroused by the magnitude of Jacob's support. She hung on to his arm as they left, kissing him passionately. Driving back to Ann Arbor, Jacob was getting more relaxed. Happy with his performance, Jacob sensed Lisa's excitement and wondered if tonight may be the night. Lisa had her left arm around Jacob and dropped her right arm in his lap.
Jacob was getting more excited by her aggression and kissing her suggested, "I want you so much Lisa, let's go to a motel." He looked at her and saw her smile as she nodded, "Alright Jacob."
The Hilltop Motel on Telegraph and Seventeen Mile Road was convenient and the night clerk took Lisa's credit card, staring at the two young kids wondering if they were just college kids or if she was a hooker.    
Jacob left his jacket and tie in the car. He removed Lisa's coat as she opened the door to their room. He threw off the covers from the double bed impatiently and removed his shirt. He stopped and looked at Lisa. Lisa smiled and removed her bra slowly while looking into his eyes. She helped him take off his pants, kissing him deeply. She pushed him down on the bed and smothered his face with her breasts. He squeezed her breasts with his hands while tasting her nipples.
Pushing her down on the bed, Jacob climbed on top of her and pushed in. Lisa parted her lips slightly, breathing in small gasps. She lowered her eyelids and looked at him opening her lips wider. The look drove Jacob wild. His movements were still rough as holding her by the waist he hurried his rhythm. Lisa moved her hands on his back and met his movements with her own creating a harmony. Jacob was breathing very hard now, he looked at her breasts, increased his tempo, shuddered in his joy and collapsed on top of her. Lisa gently rolled him to his side and held him in her arms.
Jacob recovered his breath, disengaged himself from her embrace and rolled onto his back, smiling. He stared at the ceiling ... the irony of it all ...he had managed to unlock her secret. He loved Lisa. She was perfect. She understood and filled his needs when he needed her and now he knew how to get her to surrender to him completely ... the trick was to get her drunk on his successes. She could not deny him when the crowd lifted him over the rank of ordinary humans. She was impressed by his stature and every time he could have it affirmed, he could have her!
It was almost too easy. He would show her his articles, the editorials that praised him, the adoring fan mail that he received, he would take her with him to every public appearance he made, every dinner he was invited to. Her eyes would light up ... all these people adoring him ... like a movie star ... he was more than a man in her eyes. She was his for the asking.  
.....



Chapter 10 ... Andy
At twenty-nine, Andy Imberg was the youngest vice president in the Sylvester Consulting Group. It had been the right mixture of experience and political connections that landed him the offer from Steve Sylvester two years ago. He had a difficult time moving up from administration to policymaking, but he always had the right vision and never faltered. The public relations firm had huge corporations and powerful politicians as clients. Andy's power grew as his base in the organization strengthened.
1988 was his toughest year, the comeback of senator Jerry Nash was in his hands. The three million dollars raised by Jerry had been matched by the Republican party, giving Andy full freedom to design and present a new Jerry Nash for the Michigan voters to elect.
Jerry had been defeated in the '86 race after having served just one term in the senate. His spirit had been broken and he had contemplated suicide. Ninety-eight percent of the incumbents were re-elected and Jerry had lost to a young democrat virtually unknown till the last two weeks of the elections, when James Monroe had become a household word thanks to an overabundance of TV advertisements. Jerry had tried a little too late to recapture his popularity but failed by a seven percent margin in the polls.
Andy gave him a new personality. Jerry's gray beard was shaved off. His sultry face was surgically corrected to lift the corners of his lips, giving him an easy smile. His gray hair was colored dark brown and his eyebrows clearly defined to make him younger. He was given a clear political agenda - pro-family, pro-education, pro-religion, anti-crime, and anti-abortion. Press releases were carefully planned, TV spots were thoughtfully designed. The Michigan papers and the local TV stations were flooded with Jerry Nash's advertisements especially near the day of the election and an easy victory was obtained.
Jerry Nash walked back in the U.S. Senate and Andy Imberg climbed another notch on the corporate ladder. A huge party was thrown at the International Sheraton to celebrate his victory. A beaming Jerry with his arm around Andy walked to the podium between thunderous applause and hundreds of red, white and blue balloons. 
When they sat down for dinner, Andy found himself next to Mr. Thomas Jorgensen and his daughter Lisa. Andy could not keep his eyes off her. She looked gorgeous. She had on a tight fitting gold dress that hugged her body in all the right places. She was fascinated by him and talked to him throughout the dinner. He was enjoying the almost girlish fascination she had for him. She took him to the dance floor. He was more than willing and excited at hitting it off so well with her. Everything was working out perfectly tonight, he thought. 
    .....

Andy and Lisa left the festivities intent on their own celebration. Andy had never felt so good in his life. He was drunk more with his own success than with the champagne. Lisa had never been with such a polished man in her life and was overjoyed to connect with him.
Andy drove her to his home in West Birmingham. The deep blue Porsche matched his style. The lavish home matched his status. Lisa undressed while Andy poured more wine for them and lit the fireplace. They made love on the rug in the glow of the fireplace, slowly at first as the wood crackled and faster when the blood rushing through their heads exploded into brilliant sparks. They lay breathing loudly in a long lasting embrace.
Andy dated Lisa for a few more weeks. Each date, hoping for that magic he felt when he had first seen her, disappointed at the lack of the feeling of triumph they had achieved on their first date. The relationship died quickly. Andy's job placed more pressure on his time. He stopped dating on a regular basis and had forgotten about Lisa completely within the last year. 
    .....

Andy was sound asleep. The night-light bathed his bedroom in a bluish light, giving the paintings on the three walls a strange silvery tinge. Andy was walking on the desert, barefoot. A hot wind was blowing and the brilliant afternoon sun was blinding. There was no end to this sand. There was no end to the sun ... and there was not a hint of a shade in sight. His lips were caked. He touched his lips with his fingers, they were peeling and it hurt. He ran his dry tongue over his lips. There was sand under his clothes and he felt dry and itchy all over. He scratched his left shoulder under his torn shirt, and as he shifted his shoulder he stepped on a rock and cut open his right sole. Bleeding, he walked on. The heat hampered the coagulation of blood. When the pain became unbearable he sat down and pulled up his foot to look at it. He started to remove the sand from his open wound, the pain shooting up making his eyes water ... the phone rang.
He shook his head to clear the dream from his head and picked up the phone, "Hello?" He touched the sole of his right foot, it was fine. He ran his tongue over his lips, they were fine too. He ran his hand over his head and softly massaged his neck.
"Oh shit, you are in another time zone ... I keep forgetting. I am sorry Andy, but we do need you now. The time is here. You must leave whatever you are doing and come join us full time. We need you;" Michael paused, then spoke slowly and distinctly, "Jacob needs you!"  
"Good morning to you too, Michael," Andy smiled; "What the hell is going on? It's midnight here, are you in Colorado?"
"Yeah, Denver ... Can you fly out tomorrow?"
Andy was fully awake now, he lit up a Winston and took a deep puff filling his lungs with nicotine, he let it out slowly, "It's going to be hard, Michael.  What's happening down there?"
"Andy, listen to me. Quit your job. We have all the money in the world .... millions ... you will have a free hand in doing whatever you and Jacob agree on and he is getting too busy to be involved in the administrative stuff. You need to run the public relations end of our organization." Michael was getting impatient, "Just fly out tomorrow, and we can work it out. Please! You are one of the very few people that Jacob or I can trust ... and Andy, Matthew is here too ... full time. Just fly out to Denver and Jeff and Matthew will pick you up."
"Who's Jeff?"
"Oh! don't you remember? Jacob's cousin ... from Denver ... surely you've met him ... didn't you?"
"No, I don't remember him. Let me think about it ... this is too unexpected ...  let me call you in the morning." Andy wrote down the phone number and tried to sleep.
He called Michael the next morning, "So! You want me to quit everything and fly down there, for what Michael? I haven't heard from you in years. What makes you think that I am ready to give up everything at this point of my life?"
Michael said the magic words, "It's for Jacob. Jacob wants you here. He feels you can take care of things. Jacob trusts you. And you have my word, unlimited access and freedom like you have never known! Come down today, meet everybody and spend a couple of days here. Then you can decide."   
    .....

Andy sat in the first class section, smoking and remembering. Each new thought in his head, drew him further behind to a distant past that he cherished.
"Where did we start?" ... He vaguely remembered the birth of Jacob's Reality Group, and the subsequent heady days through high school. Jacob had acquired so much clarity in his logical dissection of issues dealing with their lives that he had become more than a friend to him and Michael. He was like an affectionate father, or a loving mother, or a trusting older brother to all of them. Just being in his presence opened their eyes and uplifted their spirits.
The group had grown steadily, and with the growth of the group there were other challenges. He remembered the almost gang like fight they had on two occasions, the names that the other kids in school had given them.  He smiled as he remembered being called "Jacob Freaks", and "The Unreal Goons" when they had triumphantly defended their small cohesive group against a larger, stronger group of bullies with the transformation of Michael.
Finally high school was over and Jacob had moved on to Michigan. Michael had left too and Andy's contacts with the original group were limited to Matthew, who had stayed behind in Phoenix with the rest of the Craden family, and Samantha. Dark haired Samantha had grown up to be an attractive, fun loving, bouncy girl and Andy had dated her a few times. He leaned back, smiling with the pleasant memories of his boyhood.
He was surprised at the clarity of his recollection ... in front of his parents' home. That pleasant day in March, when Jacob and Michael appeared from nowhere, grinning from ear to ear. They told him about their plans, the organization that Jacob had decided to form and the headquarters in Denver, where Hank Silva had built a following of Jacob that was much larger than the one on the campus in Michigan. Andy was being invited, as one of the founding members, to join the group's beginning. It was hard to decline their offer but Andy had become very practical in the days of his college and insisted on finishing school and following a "normal" life.
Their contacts had then diminished. In 1983 he drove to Denver and visited Jacob and Michael, living in a house that was also being used as the headquarters for the Reality Group. Though impressed by the progress of the organization, Andy went back to his new job in Phoenix.     
That had been seven years ago. The Reality Group had made a small name for itself with some of their radical ideas, and Andy had become a regular contributor. Jacob had obtained a national stature as a new radical intellectual. Andy had watched him admiringly as he appeared on the TV talk-show circuit, bringing the concept of Reality to the general public, magically empowering them with their own destiny.
The fragile link between Andy and the group had been maintained ...  and now  ... Andy wondered as he exhaled .... what will he do now? He didn't lack money. He had been more than successful. He relished challenges and the Nash project had been thrilling. Was there something more to life? ... something better .... a tougher challenge ... a higher purpose? He wondered. The restlessness from the previous night finally caught up with him and he dozed off. 
    .....

Matthew met him as he stepped out of the plane at Stapleton Airport. Andy did a double take as Matthew introduced Jeff Stevens. Jeff appeared to be what Andy had imagined Jacob would look like after all these years. Jeff was full of life, energy, and compassion, and Andy was overwhelmed by his resemblance to Jacob and his presence.  
He was amazed at what had happened in the last few years. The Reality Organization complex was housed in the Highlands Ranch area. A large three-story building, with evergreen trees and lush grass adding a nice touch. The complex housed a publishing facility, a video lab and other supporting units.
Matthew took Andy straight to the second floor and to Jacob's office. It was a large office with burgundy carpeting and gray and steel blue decorations and white furniture. In the middle of the office were Jacob and Michael with oversized school-boy-grins on their faces. Jacob took Andy's hand in his hands, "Welcome ... welcome home."
"It's great to see you after all these years" his heart was pumping furiously; Andy had never gotten over the power Jacob had over him. He was overwhelmed. His eyes were getting moist.  Michael put his arm around him and led him to the sofa around the coffee table in the middle of the room. 
Andy listened as Jacob and Michael explained what they were heading for, "It seems inevitable that we need to gain political power to correct the course of human destiny. The power of logic stays in people's minds and their hearts for a long time but that necessary next step needed to make the ultimate change, is a general feeling of the correct direction of the country."
Michael asked Matthew to get Hank and joined in, "Andy, we are going to turn our group into a new political party with it's own concept. We will need to work to establish our party as a viable political power and deal from a different perspective."
Andy smiled, "A new political party! Why can't you go on as before and build up your support base, first?"
"Michael will show you what our financial situation looks like. Hank Silva has built up a financial network of supporters and our investments have made us almost completely independent for our current size. If we want to stay the same, we don't need to make any changes. Hank will show you his projections and if I, Michael and Jeff don't go out and take on a bigger challenge, what will we do? What would have been the point of coming so far? The seed once germinated must achieve life as the tree." Jacob smiled, "I think we are at a point in this nation's life, where we can turn it towards a definite direction. The logical conclusion is to not to let what we have started lie dormant, but to start the process to make the permanent change." Jacob's eyes were lit with the fire that Andy had seen many times before.  
    .....

Andy spent the rest of the day with Hank and Matthew going over the financial picture of the organization. After a long, hot shower he joined the five of them for dinner. Conversation was very light hearted and Andy was amazed at the amount of energy he seemed to have gained in that day. Unlike his work day, when he had a hard time making it to his basement gym for a short work out, Andy felt wide awake. "This is how one should feel" he thought.
Jacob and Michael met with him in the morning. "No pressure" said Jacob.  "We would like you to join us on any terms you wish, but I want you to go back and think. When you have made a decision, call me."
Michael added, "Of course, the sooner the better, but whatever you decide. I know we will have fun. I can feel it."
Andy lit a cigarette and headed back to Detroit.     
.....



Chapter 11 ... Andy II
Andy looked at his life from a different angle. His job, his home life, his workout routine ... What was it all for? ... What would it all lead to next? ... What should it lead to next? ... Is this how he wanted to spend the rest of his life? He wondered how it would be working with Jacob and Michael and the rest of the gang. He felt a sense of tenderness towards the group that he had not felt for anyone or anything before. ... Would it matter if they succeeded or failed? ... Did it matter that there may or may not be a permanence in this new job? ... But the challenges and the potential for doing the right thing ... the potential for doing so much good!
In the end it felt natural. "Michael, I will be down there in a few days. Don't worry about the terms or anything."
"I knew it Andy. Come down soon. Let me know if you need anything. We have a good base in Michigan too. We can wind up things for you."
"Thanks Michael, I will put the house up for sale and ship out my stuff. I will see you in a week or so."
"Andy, let me send somebody to do it for you. And you just fly down here as soon as you can." The excitement in Michael's voice was building; "I will set up a strategy meeting for next Tuesday. Sound O.K.?"
Andy gave in. "All right, send somebody to take care of this place. I will join you by the weekend!"
     .....

Jacob seemed relaxed as Andy sat down for the first strategy session, with what he would eventually name the "Brain Trust". Jacob and Michael seemed to be the primary movers, Jeff and Matthew came next, Hank was probably the senior most and Jake probably the oldest of the group.
Jacob introduced everyone. Andy of course knew most of them. There were a few new names to be added to his sketch of the organization.
Jacob started, "When we have a decision put to vote, we all carry an equal vote, all twelve of us, and now you will be the thirteenth. We have never had a tie and would probably not need a tie breaker, but you may be the deciding vote in such a case."  Jacob was the ultimate authority here and everyone understood it.
"Andy has been brought in to take care of public relations and political campaigning for our party. For those of you, who may not have known Andy, he and I go back to middle school days in Phoenix." Jacob smiled. "Michael, Andy and I have known each other since the sixties. We had tried to get him to join us when we first started back in 1981. By now he has gained a lot of experience and respect in the political field and is even more valuable to us. I am glad to have him."
The discussion slowly turned to initial strategies for selecting candidates for state seats that may be contested in the next few years, coordinating efforts with Phoenix and Ann Arbor and putting Realist candidates in the house and senate in Washington.
Jacob suggested Matthew, Bart and Sean as possible candidates for state seats. Michael smiled, "We are going to have our kid brothers run the state." He patted Sean affectionately. The group broke up in laughter.
Andy let the laughter subside, "I think our first candidate should be either Jake Scott or Hank Silva. I have known Hank for a while and know his potential. I am fascinated by the looks and style of Jake and know that radical ideas coming from a mature adult like him will be listened to and understood rather than rejected and ridiculed. The maturity offered by Hank and Jake should be one of the main deciding factors for their candidacy. And having a successful election will give momentum to the party for the next group of candidates."
Everyone nodded in agreement.  The evening progressed satisfactorily for Andy and Jacob.
    .....

Before the end of the week, Andy had set things in motion. Hank Silva's contacts in the media business were a great asset. Jake Scott and his grandiose style was the first factor that Andy wanted to establish, and had started him with understanding, discussing, and defending the political stance of the Realism party.
Andy wanted the announcement to be a news event with an interview with Jacob as the centerpiece, followed by Jake as the first candidate for the state House.
The planned day brought a few reporters from the local papers and a TV crew from Channel 7. That was Hank's doing. He knew few media people would be interested in the announcement of a new political party and its first candidate. He made sure that his contacts at Channel 7 would cover the news in one of its daily or weekly broadcasts.
Andy met with all the media people individually, introducing himself and inviting them back for follow-ups. At the designated time, Hank Silva took the stage and introduced Andy. Andy carefully laid out the party platform, "The Realism party is the creation of Jacob Craden and his fundamental belief in the goodness of people and their ability to understand and choose. It stems from our attempt to establish truth based on Reality.
Our platform flows from that base. Our party supports individual choice over everything. Choices when available, and availed without duress are our basic goal. We want to educate the public about real choices. We want to remove coercion in all forms including the most subtle coercion in our society."
He introduced Jacob, "And now, I would like you to hear from the founder of the party ... Jacob Craden."
Jacob walked to the podium slowly, shook hands with Andy and took the mike.
"This is a very satisfying day for me. The Reality Group has been around for years and I intend to take it to wherever we can do the most good. Our influence has been growing and we have reached a point in our growth where the next realistic goal is to attain political footholds and try to make fundamental changes in the society. I intend to provide the best help that I can to the next House member from District 14 ... Mr. Jake Scott."
Jake walked on to the stage. He was wearing a sweater over his shirt, covering most of his tie. His gray hair was brushed back and his brown eyes were sparkling behind his glasses. The crowd gave him a friendly round of clapping.
The reporters started to shoot questions at Jake. Jacob walked out of the auditorium and towards the elevators. He was pleased. Andy had done a great job. He entered his office and drank a glass of cold water. He knew he would have a long wait before Andy would show up. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.        
He awoke with Andy standing in his office and looking at him in a strange way. Andy finally said, "Matthew just called. Your dad is dying. Matthew wants you to meet him at the airport in two hours. I feel bad about it happening now.  Now at this time!  Do you want me to do anything before you go?" 
"No don't worry about it. My dad has had problems with his lungs for a long time. The job that helped him survive also poisoned his lungs. He has been on oxygen for sometime. You and Michael just keep things moving. I will call you from Phoenix." He paused, seemed to remember something, "Oh yes! Can you or Michael go meet Lisa at the airport? Her flight comes in at ten tonight."
"Lisa who?" Andy had a sinking feeling. "Where is she flying from?"
"Detroit. Haven't you met Lisa yet? She is moving to Denver to be with me. I finally convinced her. We were getting tired of the constant trips back and forth between Ann Arbor and Denver."
"What's her last name?" Andy asked.
"Lisa Jorgensen. You sure, you haven't met her?"
"I have met her. But that was many years ago ... in Detroit. I will pick her up. I will take Jeff or Bart with me. Do I take her to your home then or ..."
"Yes. Thanks Andy."
"Don't worry about us Jacob. Go be with your dad. We will take care of everything here." 
    .....         

Bart was more than willing to accompany Andy to the airport. It gave a chance for Andy to get to know him. Bart was quiet and unassuming but had a deep intensity about him. His devotion to Jacob and the Reality party was almost fanatic. "Good man to have around," thought Andy.
Andy felt strange about meeting Lisa again. He was quite uncomfortable, however the presence of Bart and the way he introduced Lisa and Andy helped the situation. Lisa seemed to recognize him but did not show it, "It's nice to meet you. Where is Jacob? Is he busy this late?"
"Jacob had to go to Phoenix, his dad is dying. He had to leave suddenly.  Andy and I will take you home."
"Oh! I am sorry to hear that. But, I talked to him this morning. He didn't say ..."
"We got a call this afternoon and he left with Matthew." Bart guided her towards the parking lot.
"Lisa, I guess you don't remember. But, we met a few years back in Detroit." Andy said, as they settled for the drive back.
Lisa looked into his eyes and froze. "Yes she remembers me," thought Andy. "We met at Senator Nash's reelection party. We saw each other a few times." Andy knew that she was trying to deny her knowledge of him.
"I can't seem to remember. How do you know Jacob?" she said slowly.   
"We have known one another since childhood." he smiled.
"He joined our headquarters full time, Lisa," said Bart.
Lisa turned to Bart and talked to him the rest of the way.
After dropping off Lisa and then Bart, Andy took a long walk. He lit his second Winston reflecting; "Lisa does remember me ... why is she trying to pretend that she doesn't ... Lisa was not so bad ... but she wasn't so great either. She must fulfill some need of Jacob that no one else can. I never thought of Jacob as having human needs. What an interesting twist. But of course! Jacob has needs like anyone else. He just seems to be different ... almost superhuman ... like a Greek statue on a pedestal. I wonder what would have happened, if Lisa and I had continued? No, we didn't seem to fit well together. Maybe Jacob and Lisa have the sparks that we never did. Does this change anything?" He knew it would take some work to patch up this coolness between him and Lisa. On the other hand, she maybe nothing more than Jacob's love interest. He hoped she was not going to be involved in the running of the party. He lit another cigarette and walked a little more.
    .....
Jasper was in the intensive care unit. Mary had just visited him. Her face was grave and tired. She had been there for the last eight hours, visiting him whenever the nurses allowed. Jasper's condition was deteriorating. He had lost more than eighty percent of his lung capacity. He had collapsed at home and had been rushed to the hospital. Mary knew the end was near. She looked tired but was determined to stay till the end.
Jacob looked at his dying father unable to feel any emotion other than pity. He thought he would have a sense of loss but all he felt was pity for his frail father, laying on the white sheets, hooked up to machines that were trying to keep him alive. He tried to remember his father as a strong man who would lift three or four children playfully, all he felt was a detached feeling, a vague sense of loss but mostly pity.
Jasper died without gaining consciousness. Mary was prepared for the end and grieved quietly. She was thankful that the end did not drag on for days. Jacob tried to understand what this meant to him. He decided he must be one of those that grieve later.
    .....

Jacob came back from his father's funeral unchanged except for becoming a little quieter. His life changed completely. Lisa had not settled in yet, and Mary was going to come live with him too. He wasn't sure if Lisa and Mary would get along. If Mary would accept Lisa and his relationship.   
He tried to rekindle his passion for speaking. Andy used him to set up several fund-raising events for the party and especially for Jake Scott. The month of October approached slowly.
.....



Chapter 12 ... The Invitation
Father Antonio Sarducchi looked over the gathering of the bishops, pleased at the turnout. He had been gently persuaded to attend the annual western region conference of the bishops, it provided a nice trip to America, a chance to visit the rich parishes and dine lavishly and perhaps fire these bishops with renewed enthusiasm for the church.
Phoenix was a little warmer for his taste but the air-conditioned limousines and mansions he was invited to visit and stay at made the heat a nice topic to start his conversations with. These Americans really had too much money and wasted it on personal luxuries, he felt, however it was his turn to enjoy it this time.
He opened the conference with a special prayer chosen by him for the occasion. The Benedictus from Luke was well suited for the conference, it raised the image of an enemy, and people who hated the Christians, it ended with the lord delivering the faithful and perhaps leaving others in the shadow of death. It conjured up the right mood for the bishops for the rest of the conference.
The bishops had been pleased at the Vatican sending them a cardinal to head their conference, bringing the Holy Father's words to them. Each one of them hoped for divine intervention to turn the tide of slow deterioration that the churches had been feeling for the last three years.
Even the Vatican had been affected by the new breed of enemy that was hitting them in their tender most spot, the pocketbook. The tide had been changing slowly. A few small churches could not survive the lack of collections and without help from the richer more powerful dioceses and eventually the regional and national headquarters, they had to close down. It was good at first for the few that gained new parishioners, but soon the more affluent, the more rationale, the more intelligent would leave, creating gaping holes in the gold mine of church finances.
The media had noticed the changing attitude of the populace, it was slowly growing more confident, more independent, freer. The ideas of the church did not seem to parallel those of the modern society or Jesus either. The church had taken on a personality that was turning people off. The organizations opposing organized religion had always been around. The United Atheists of America, The Freedom from Forced Values, and the most powerful The Realism party, had all combined to deliver a one-two punch to the stability of the churches, especially in Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Michigan.
The central theme of the conference was to gather and safeguard the flock. The morning session on gathering the flock together for the survival of the church went well. Bishop Gary Emerson from the richest diocese in Albuquerque was the speaker for the morning session.
"I have drawn a plan of a series of sermons and prayer vigils to first unite the church by instilling a sense of community; second using the symbolism of the shepherd and the sheep, with each of us as the sheepherder - not that much different than the savior himself, attain the unquestioned loyalty of the members; third unleash an attack of us against them, with them being those that will oppose us, taking care to welcome people back with forgiving, wide open arms while attacking the organized destroyers of religion as agents of the devil, beginning with unnamed enemies and ending with naming those that we want destroyed."
Lunch was a lavish affair, many a churchgoer would have gasped at such extravagance indulged in by these men of God. Cardinal Sarducchi enjoyed the wonderful cuisine, prepared especially for the occasion. His large waist was going to gain a few more inches this trip, he thought as he poured himself another glass of surprisingly good California Chablis. 
The archbishop from Colorado and the bishop from Arizona had sought a special meeting with Cardinal Sarducchi. He wanted to meet the bishops and get to know them, but was somewhat apprehensive about the kinds of problems brought to his attention during such sessions. He also knew that he didn't really have a choice. He knew he could not turn down a request for a meeting without adequate reasons. The meeting for late evening was granted with a little fuss and hesitation.  
Archbishop John Andersen introduced himself and then Bishop Forrest Johnson from Arizona. Cardinal Sarducchi was smiling, "I welcome you to my home ... my home in America ... my adopted home for these three days in September. And my home is open to you tonight ... come join me in tea and then we will have some supper later on ... yes?"
His charming personality was genuinely magnanimous and the two bishops looked at each other wondering how and when they will ever get to a level of comfort to disclose their concerns to him. John started laying the groundwork, "Holy father, as you are greatly aware, we are seeking your help, your guidance, your intervention in our plight. We, in the western region have been suffering greatly because of a substantial drop in our membership. This has been causing great hardships for us to carry on the work of the Vatican, and the Holy Father."
He took a sip of the tea and looked at Forrest, who took the cue, "Both of our states, Colorado and Arizona, have been victims of the concentrated efforts of one of these anti-religious groups, The Realism party. The party, which has now declared its political intentions, was known as The Reality Group and targeted Catholic organizations in our states. They have a dangerous man as their leader."
Father Sarducchi selected another piece of cheese from the large assortment on the silver tray, took a little bite, savored the taste, washed it down with tea," So, who is this man? And why would one person be so dangerous?"
John smiled, the word "dangerous" was such a nice plant. He had known that once they established "dangerous", even the Cardinal would take the bite. John looked at Forrest, "Go on father. Tell him about this man."
"His name is Jacob Craden. He has created a powerful network of political activists who have systematically reduced our influence on the general public. His group carries anti-religious, anti-church, anti-God messages and spreads poison among our parishioners. His group has slowly and steadily gained power in Arizona, Colorado and many other western states at the expense of our churches. We need help against this man."
"Jacob ... Jacob Craden, I have heard this name. Yes ... Craden is indeed a ... how you said it ... dangerous man. He has been misleading people all over the world. We have noticed his influence in America and possibly some ... same problem as America ... in Sweden and Switzerland."  He reached for another piece of cheese and smiled at the two men. What exactly did these two want from me? He wondered, and what could he offer them, and what could he imply he was offering them - that was the key ... appear to help them or at the very least to intervene on their behalf, and ultimately you expand your power-base, whether you do anything or not!
John could not read the cardinal's reactions. This worried him. He was very good at manipulation and would lean one way or the other depending on the reaction of the person he was dealing with. The cardinal appeared like a peasant one moment, a most knowledgeable diplomat the next moment, and always that smile, that was either fake or permanent. John could not tell if the cardinal was smiling at two amateurs or at the taste of cheese! This man was good.
Father Forrest started, "It is indeed very enlightening to hear that the Vatican is aware of Jacob Craden. We have been trying individually and collectively to deal with him and his organization without any success. We need some guidance, some direction, some help, and perhaps some intervention by the Vatican in dealing with him."
The cardinal smiled, "Of course, I understand. I would very much like to help with this problem that you have with Craden. The Vatican will definitely hear your concerns. I will be stopping in New York to talk with the Archbishop and would ask him to perhaps give you some help in this matter. Do you feel that, the Archbishop Kennedy can help you? I think, he would be happy to do what he can."
John sighed, Archbishop Kennedy had not bothered to return his calls in the last year and a half, perhaps the cardinal could persuade him to respond. Maybe there was some way to really find an answer. The two thanked him profusely and declined his gracious offer of supper. The cardinal blessed them and they withdrew to their hotel rooms.
    .....
The three men met secretly, a little after ten o'clock p.m., in John's room. The bishops from Arizona and New Mexico, and the archbishop from Colorado would have passed as ordinary tourists in their street clothes. It was not their holiness that they were hiding, it was the evil intent, deep in their hearts and souls.
Before the others arrived, John had ordered two fifths of Chivas and Canadian Club sodas for those who diluted their scotch. He had poured himself a generous portion of Scotch on ice cubes and waited for the others to arrive. 
Each of them poured his own drink. Gary was the first to start, "So, how was the meeting with the cardinal? Did you spell out our problems for him? What is he going to do? Did he offer to help?"
"Hold your horses" Forrest smiled slowly; "The cardinal is a smarter man then he lets on. Don't be fooled by the way he speaks English, his mind is sharp like a stiletto. He heard us and promised as little as he could and as much as he could" he chuckled with the memory of Cardinal Sarducchi.
John butted in, "He said he would have the Archbishop Kennedy call us and provide us all the help he can. That's more than I expected, other than a permanent solution of course. What else can be done?"
"Perhaps Sam can solve our problem. He has all the New York connections" Gary added slowly, "including the mobs and the gangs."
"I am sure, we all detest violence and neither the archbishop nor the cardinal will condone an extreme act of violence." John sipped the last drops of his drink, "however, there are more ways than one to take care of Jacob Craden. And, if the problem becomes extreme, we could suggest extreme solutions. What was surprising is, that the Vatican is aware of Craden and his influence. The cardinal even mentioned problems in Europe created by his group. And he agrees Jacob is ... how you say ...dangerous." He tried to copy the cardinal.
They laughed and refilled their glasses.
"I am sure we don't really expect them to kill him" Gary said looking at the golden reflections in his ice cubes. "Or do we? Won't that be something? But what exactly can they do? Jacob Craden is well protected. I am sure his people know how to keep him safe. It may be possible for an assassin to take him out, but I would think that's highly improbable, given the high degree of organization the Reality group has. What can anyone do to such a man?"
"We have gone through that before, without much success. If only we hadn't waited so long. In the beginning, they were like college kids, extremely vulnerable, but we didn't think they were going to become so popular with the masses, so destructive of Christian ways, now it's like a cancer that has taken hold of major organs" John said, relaxing as the scotch washed down his concerns for the night.
They discussed a little more and drank a little more till each in his own mind and together as a group agreed that the next action was the responsibility of the archbishop and if he refused then the Vatican's . They were finally accepting the long, tough fight ahead of them. The possibility of violence and their own involvement was frightening. The scotch and the night hid their fears.
    .....
Cardinal Sarducchi looked at the clock. He had been in Phoenix for four days but was still not used to the new time zone. He tried to sleep, gave up after turning over and over, he decided to write a note to the Archbishop.       
"Dear Archbishop Kennedy, ... greetings from Phoenix, Arizona, and God bless you.
I have been enjoying the great experience of the conference put together by these fine bishops of yours. I have also been meeting a few of them separately to talk to them about issues they have and getting to know them personally. 
This has proved very good for me, both physically and mentally. Getting away from the daily routine of the Vatican has energized me again and I look forward to each day with a smile and a prayer.
We will meet shortly, as the conference finishes and I return to Rome by way of Chicago and New York. But, I have a matter of some concern that has been brought to my attention, and I believe you may be able to do something to try and resolve it.
A man by the name of Jacob Craden and his people have made things hard for people in the fine states of Colorado and Arizona. I have also heard of his people causing hardships for our Christian brothers in many other places perhaps also in New York. You, of course may already be aware of him and the hardship brought on our brethren by his organization.
The Vatican does not approve of this man, his followers, his group, and his influence. This man and his ideas must be discredited and stopped from spreading. You are a capable man and should be able to stop him from furthering this evil. You have the Vatican's and my personal approval.
Please contact Archbishop Gary Andersen from Colorado and put forward your plans in motion.
This is God's work.
May the hand of God always be on your back."
.....



Chapter 13 ... The Attempt
Archbishop Sam Kennedy looked at the letter and frowned. "How could someone like a cardinal write such a thing? Doesn't he know any better? What if this got into the wrong hands? But of course, this was a cardinal from the Vatican who either didn't give a damn or just didn't know any better."  He lit a cigarette and thought intensely turning several options in his mind.
He called his personal secretary, "Sylvia, Get Archbishop Andersen, ... Colorado, on the phone, please?"
Sylvia walked into his office, looked at him with worshipping eyes, "Archbishop Andersen, O.K. just one minute." She hurried out to her desk and soon Sam and John were on the phone. She sat at her desk, her face losing color, becoming whiter and whiter as she sat listening to Archbishop Kennedy's side of the conversation.
    .....

Spade Jackson looked up at the gray New York sky and wondered if his new assignment will take him to a warm place like Miami or San Diego. "With my luck, I will probably end up in Alaska" he muttered. He entered the cottage and eyed the secretary giving her a good long look. She was probably in her late thirties but had a nice body. He wondered why all these women hid their bodies and why didn't they use a little makeup, and a little lipstick, and style their hair a little, she could pass for a nice doll, he was sure.
"I am here to see Archbishop Kennedy," he looked into her eyes and stared at the front of her dress. He ran his tongue over his lips.
Sylvia didn't like the look of this man, she was suspicious about the bulge around his left shoulder, but was used to the different types of people that the Archbishop received at his weekend cottage. "A Mr. Spade Jackson is here to see you, should I bring him in?" She wondered what she would do if he would say no, but of course he never turned anyone away, especially the scary types.
"Mr. Spade Jackson, I was told by the Colonel that you could arrange for someone to do a job in Colorado. He thought that perhaps even you yourself might be available." He liked the looks of this rough, tough looking man, "perfect for this kind of job," he thought.
"Colorado, huh ... I and my friends can be ... available. What's the job?" Spade looked eye to eye at the obviously powerful man across from him, giving him the "expensive-pro" look, nodding his head very slowly.
"I want a report on the accessibility of a man named Jacob Craden, ... he is the head of a large organization in Denver. I want to know if you ... if somebody could ... "get" ... to him." he paused. That's what the Colonel had advised him.
Spade's eyes brightened. A real hit, for these kind of people would be at least a hundred thousand if not more. "I see" he said slowly. He wanted a drink but knew he will have to wait, "I will need to find out more about him ... Craden, how do you spell that?" he took a little notebook out of his coat pocket. 
"Don't worry about the details, the Colonel will give you all the details that we have ... pictures ... addresses ... etc. Is this something you would consider doing?"
"Well, I could do it, it will depend on what you are willing to pay. This could cost a lot of money ... to travel ... to get people .. to do the job. This kind of job is right down my alley. Depends on what the job pays, what are we talking about?" he ran his tongue over his lips. This was what he was waiting for.
"Here is a little something for your initial expenses, just to find out, if it can be done or not? Like you said, for initial expenses." He handed him an unsealed white envelope.
Spade counted twenty hundred-dollar bills and stopped; there were at least twenty more in the envelope. Before he could say anything, the Archbishop said, "This is just for preliminary expenses. If you ... your people can do the whole job, we will have the Colonel give you a "quarter." He watched Spade's eyes light up.
Spade wetted his lips, "Yes sir. This would be perfect."
"All right then, talk to the Colonel on Wednesday. After that, take a trip and figure out what you can or cannot do. Keep in touch with the Colonel. Don't contact me from now on. The Colonel will pay you more after your first report. After that, it will depend on how, and what you can do. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir. This would do just fine. I will do the best job you ever saw done." He left, taking a last look at the secretary, knowing he will buy a woman tonight, and a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch.
    .....

Jacob looked at the clear blue Colorado sky and smiled at the sight of the dark blue mountains, rising against the sky, overshadowing everything, "What a beautiful day, this is perfect ... this is a nice day to die."
Lisa looked at him and shook her head. The early October sun was peeking through the morning clouds, trying to cover everything with its orange color. Jacob brought the pot of coffee outside and they sat on the deck drinking the morning in.
Things were going very well for Jacob. Mary had moved in shortly after Lisa had settled in, but kept mostly to herself, perhaps still grieving privately. She got along well with Lisa and didn't disapprove of her son sleeping with her.
"Are you prepared for your speech?" Lisa looked at him intently.
"Well! I have the basic pattern outlined. It's for the Atheist group at the Boulder campus and I should be able to use material from my previous speeches. Perhaps, I can just take off on a tangent at something that strikes me as worth exploring. Of course if I die, I don't have to make the speech" he smiled and put his head in her lap staring at her face and the orange blue glow behind it.  
Lisa ran her fingers through his hair and gently massaged his scalp. "You are crazy. Are you having one of your moods? If you feel so good about today, why talk of dying? If the day is so perfect, you should talk about living forever. Why this strange obsession with death?"
"Because it's so peaceful, so final, so correct." The morning strolled lazily ahead.
    .....

The meeting was scheduled for seven o'clock p.m. Jacob was expected to arrive by seven and would be the main speaker at about fifteen past seven. Jacob and his group of men left in two Lincoln Continentals and two vans. The vans always carried security personnel and equipment specifically acquired to deal with emergencies. The two cars always drove one behind the other with leads changing every so often. This pattern was designed and enforced by Andy, who himself would often accompany Jacob in a Continental, or be in charge of one of the vans. Today, he accompanied Jacob in one of the Continentals.
    .....

The deep blue Toyota Celica turned on its emergency lights and pulled off on the left hand shoulder of southbound I-25 just past the I-36 interchange. Spade turned off the lights and looked at his watch. "Six-thirty-two ...  good." He spoke aloud breathing slowly and trying to calm his nerves. His lips were drying, he ran his tongue over them. He reached behind the passenger seat and pulled out the Uzi and the binoculars. He opened his black leather jacket and tucked the Uzi under his left arm. He put his right hand on the concrete divider and vaulted over it. He walked across the hard dry grassy area and scaled the concrete divider on the northbound I-25. He waited a few seconds for a clear path and darted across the freeway. He walked towards the meeting point of the two freeways and positioned himself at the spot he had picked earlier. He stayed in a crouching position, the binoculars glued to his eyes as he searched for the caravan to arrive.
"Six-forty ... where are you baby?" He said as he relaxed his eyes for a moment. He checked the Uzi and felt the Adrenalin flowing. He scanned the freeway again, "Slowly ... slowly .... catchy monkey." He smiled and ran his tongue over his lips. The caravan was approaching.
Jacob was going over the basic outline of his speech with Andy in the lead Continental. The car slowed down on the exit ram to I-36. In a flash a hail of bullets hit the front, right side and back of the Continental. Andy pushed Jacob to the floor and covered him with his own body.
"Hurry, speed up, get the fuck outta here." He screamed at the driver. The Continental took off, waving from side to side as the driver fought to maintain control.
Spade turned around and hit the second Continental, spraying it in a nice arch, painting a line from the passenger side to the back window just like he had done to the first car. He ran across the highway, jumped over the concrete dividers, into his car and pulled away. It was six forty two by his watch.
    .....    

Natasha Davidson was near the I-36 exit when she heard the call on the radio. She turned on her flashers and sped towards the Fifty-eighth avenue exit to double-back towards the scene of the shooting. She barely noticed the blue Celica pull into the left lane from the shoulder as she sped towards her goal.
    .....

The Continental carrying Jacob and the second van sped towards Boulder, now in radio contact. "Everything's O.K." Andy let them know. He looked at Jacob.
Incredulously he was smiling, "You won't believe me, but this morning I told Lisa that it was a beautiful day to die!"
"Well! You can thank the bulletproof windows for having saved us. Can you see well enough to drive?" Andy asked Mike the driver.
"It's shattered but not too badly. We can make it without too much of a problem. But I will have to slow down ... that is when ... if you think we are out of danger."
Andy peeked through the windows. They were ahead of a fair amount of traffic and nothing seemed amiss. "All right slow down, but hit the gas if anything seems wrong. Be alert." He turned to Jacob, "Are you feeling O.K.? Do you want to cancel the speech?"
"No, no way. Someone took a shot at us, but that's not going to stop me or my ideas. I would give my speech even if I had been shot." Andy looked at Jacob with enormous adoration and knew that he meant it.
    .....

Spade paid off the cab, and carrying his duffle bag walked into the Airport Inn, went up to his room and called the front desk for messages. There were none. He splashed cold water on his face and let it dry as he lay on the bed. He waited for his heart to slow down, finally got up and poured himself a bourbon. He took off his jacket and shoes. He picked up the phone and called the Colonel.
"Spade here. I just made a hit on the target, but I don't know if I got him or not."
"You dumb ass, what the heck did you do? I told you not to do anything other than scout the possibilities."
"I am sorry Colonel, but it was too good to miss. He had to give a speech ... and there is this freeway." Spade tried to explain the excellent opportunity that had presented itself and his plan to shoot at everybody in both the cars; "And it was only .. oh .. probably less than forty feet. I hit both the cars but didn't stay to see what happened. I knew what you wanted and this was a perfect place to hit him. ... well yes... there were two cars and vans.... yes I hit both the cars ... no, the cars kept on going ... the first one did ... but you know the second one did stop. Now that I think about it, the second car and one of the vans stopped. I should have gotten everybody in the cars, but the glass didn't quite break through completely."
"What do you mean?"
"I think they had bullet-proof glass. Nobody had told me that. I won't have tried it if I had known that Colonel. Damn it, these guys are too cautious. How was I to know? No one told me, Colonel."
"All right, get out of there. But don't show up in New York. Call me when you are out of Denver and wait for at least a week before you call me. What the hell am I going to do with this shit now?" The Colonel was angry and nervous. He called John Andersen in Denver, "One of our men tried to do the job today. I think he goofed up, have you heard anything?"
"I have just received reports that somebody tried to shoot up two of his cars, he was in one of them, but didn't get hurt. He is actually delivering his damned speech right now. Who the hell did it? Who gave the go ahead? Why was I not told? Damn ... Damn!"
"I am sorry Archbishop Andersen. We didn't authorize him to take any action. He overstepped his authority. He says, because the chance was just too good. He didn't know that the cars had bulletproof glass."
"Tell him to get out and stay out. No one better find out about it. No one should be able to connect us with this."
"Rest assured Archbishop Andersen. I will make sure this man keeps quiet. No one will ever connect you with this. Please inform me if anything happens. He has been told to leave Denver and contact me after a week, hopefully everything will be blown over by then."
    .....

Natasha went over the details once again. "I got the call at roughly six forty five . I was headed south on I-25, just approaching the I-36 interchange, when the call came in. I sped towards Fifty-Eighth Avenue exit to double-back. That's when I noticed a blue Celica pull into the left hand lane just ahead of me. He must have been parked on the shoulder. I didn't pay much attention to him. I was just trying to get ahead of the traffic and out of the freeway at that time. I had no idea."
Detective Wayne nodded his head, "When did you connect the car to the gunman?"
"One of the men in the van, I wrote down his name ..."she flipped through her notebook;" Mark Thompson, of the special security detail of the Realist group ... he ... his van was coming up to the ramp and the second Continental had stopped. Apparently they use two Continental and two vans whenever Jacob Craden travels around town. Mark Thompson got out of the van and saw a man run across the northbound I-25. He had a machine-gun, probably an Uzi ... according to Mark, and a pair of binoculars dangling from his neck ... five-foot-eight, hundred-forty pounds ... black jacket and dark trousers. He jumped over the concrete dividers and got into a blue Celica. Mark even saw my car when I turned on the flashers, and he saw me speed ahead and away from the Celica. Damn! If I had only known."
Detective Wayne made her repeat her story a final time. The Denver police force started searching for blue Celicas, hoping to find a man that fit the description.
    .....

The blue Celica sat in the returned car lot of the Hertz office on Colfax. The night clerk, a twenty-two year old college freshman had been too busy talking on the phone to notice the man returning the car. The customer, an elderly man with a beard and glasses had returned it earlier than the ten days he had rented it for. He had taken a cab and disappeared. The rental register showed his name to be Joseph Carter.
.....



Chapter 14 ... Jacob's Speech
Jacob and Andy had a hurried conference. Jacob insisted on keeping the attempt on his life out of the evening's speeches. Andy gave in. Jacob looked cool and collected but his eyes were full of fire.
The news about the possible assassination attempt was already being whispered through the auditorium. There was hardly anyone left who hadn't heard of it by the time Andy and Jacob walked on to the stage. Andy sat through the introduction but left before Jacob started speaking.
Jacob touched the mike and looked at the faces of hundreds of young students waiting for his words to fire them with enthusiasm. "Friends" he began, "I had a speech already prepared for this evening, but I am going to abandon that in favor of an exploration of the hypocrisy in the catholic church and the myths that are used to enslave the minds of the public.
"I want to talk about the beginning of the myths ... the beginning of the story ... the beginning of the fraud ... Mary and Joseph, the parents of Jesus ... As the custom in their times dictated, were engaged for quite sometime and lived together, not much different than today's couples who often live together before marriage and sometimes even before the engagement. Our times require a better compatibility between two people before we tie knots of permanence in our relationships. Joseph and Mary were really not much different. They, like most couples today, engaged in sex and as logic and probability dictates, Mary got pregnant.
"Of course, the church will contend that Mary was impregnated by God himself, to provide his son to mankind! Their logic is quite convoluted, God didn't have sex with Mary but she was impregnated ... why didn't God just produce Jesus without Mary is not known ... myths and rumors are created this way.
"And of course, if you dare question or disagree, you are a heretic ... liable for the fate reserved for the worst sinners ... crucifixion. There is that same circular reasoning as in every other aspect of the church. And if you are a young woman claiming to be impregnated by God, the same church will stone you to death.
"Mary ... no not Mary, but the Virgin Mary is what the church bases itself on ... the very core of the church ... a very false core. Mary was not a virgin. Nor did she ever remain a virgin. She produced many children for and with Joseph. But to this date, Mary is always known as "The virgin Mary". The church does not recognize the existence of a non-virgin Mary. It honors her by calling her "The virgin mother" ... a contradiction in terms, ... a contradiction in logic ... another irrational concept ... another nail on the cross through the body of reason.
"Of course, truth as always takes a secondary place in the catholic church. And the hypocrisy of the church is unbelievable, women have no role in the church. Without a woman their Jesus would not have been born, even God needed a woman to give birth to his son. The pope and his cardinals and bishops and whosoever else, needed a woman to be born. But the church considers women as sub-humans. It reveres only one woman, a false image of a virgin and treats real women as if they do not exist or do not matter in the eyes of the church.
"Interestingly, I am not the first person who has challenged the concepts of Immaculate Conception and a Virgin Mary. Many people have known and challenged this illogic including someone on whom  the church bestowed sainthood ... Thomas Aquinas. It's interesting, how the church rewards some and crucifies others for the same act ... for the same logical conclusions.
"The church relies on blind faith, it relies on people to follow what it says blindly, like a dog's leash in a blind-man's hand. Wherever it leads, the man will go ... whether the path is straight, zigzagged or circular. The more confusing the paths of the church, the tighter their holds on the faithful.
"It takes a first-hander to question the false stories of the church, it takes much more to reject the illogical ... the irrational ... the leash. Many of us continue to use religion and the church as a crutch. It takes courage and strength to reject what for centuries has been accepted as a matter-of-fact, as a part of our lives. Lack of courage ... lack of courage to take a stand ... lack of courage to be different ... lack of courage to be oneself, has made the church what it is ...  rock solid.
"It only takes the weight of logic, rationality, reality; hardly heavier than a feather to knock over the rock of ignorance."
The auditorium was filled with applause. Jacob smiled and looked over the crowd, "Yes, this is worth it ... worth getting shot," he told himself.
    .....

Natalie walked into the Denver Police headquarters and after a few preliminaries was allowed to interview Natasha Davidson. Natasha looked relaxed, she was not wearing any make up, almost matching the little or no makeup look of Natalie. They had the same height, five-foot-five, the same color of eyes, brown, the same color of hair, black and the same short hairstyle, the same slightly upturned nose, the same thick lips.  Except for the color of their skin, they could have been sisters. Natalie had a light brown skin with a golden tinge, Natasha was many shades darker. Both had the same air of confidence about them.
"What can you tell me about the man who shot at Jacob Craden?"
"I did not actually see him ... all I saw was possibly the car he used to get away ... I saw a car driving away from the scene of the shooting as I was speeding to get to the crime-scene."
"Someone has been giving out his description as five-foot-eight ..."
"Oh that! I took the report from the driver of one of the vans in the party. He saw the man running across the highway and into the Celica."
"Have the police found the car?"
"No, we can't find the car matching the description of the man driving it away ... we are looking for the driver of a Celica that will match that description ... he may be long gone."
"What kind of a gun was used in the shooting?"
"From the description, it was an Uzi. The driver of the van described it to be an Uzi."
"Is that easily obtainable?"
"Yes, if you have the money and want it badly enough." Natasha smiled.
"Was there anyone else involved in the shooting ... another man driving the getaway car?"
"No, there was only one man seen at the scene of the shooting and only one man in the car that I saw. As far as we know, this was a one man job and nothing else."
    .....

"What a waste of time ... but probably necessary" Natalie told herself as she drove back to her office. She found a file copy and read through the speech that Jacob Craden had made the night of the shooting. "Incredible, this is the speech he gave after the attempt! I wonder who would have known about his speech? Could that have brought about the attempt?" she dug holes in her notepad.
She drove to the Realism party headquarters for her interview with the public relations man, Andy Imberg.
"Who do you think is responsible for this attempt?" She looked into his eyes and asked.
"Well, that's up to the cops. They need to find him. We think it's an organized and dangerous attempt to curb opposition to the Catholic Church. It may also be a warning to our political candidates, giving them a not so subtle message about their vulnerability."
"So, you think there is someone or some organization ... possibly the Catholic Church ... behind it?"
"I can't say that." Andy smiled at her. He liked this beautiful yet intelligent woman. For a moment he thought he should ask her for a date. He hesitated and the moment was lost.
"All we know and feel is ... this was not a lone lunatic individual brandishing a gun ... this was a hired assassin, equipped with a machinegun. He was sent to kill. Had it not been for the bulletproof glass, all of us may have been killed."
"What about the church? Mr. Craden's speech that night was not very kind to the Catholic Church."
"Mr. Jacob Craden has made hundreds of speeches against God and religion for many years, last night's speech was not much different than the rest. Of course, many a men have been tortured and killed in the name of God and religion. This won't be the first time that they try to silence opposition with violence."
"Who could have known about the content of his speech that night? Was there an advance release?"
"Jacob Craden was speaking in front of the Atheist Group on the Boulder campus, there should not have been any question on the basic content of his speech. But he writes his own speeches and that night he followed his prepared outline for the most part."
"What about the recent backlash against the Realism party from Archbishop Andersen? He has been quite vocal in the last few weeks, singling out your organization."
" I am not sure, who is behind this action. The Church has always been against our organization, I don't know if this is how they choose to silence us now." He thought for a moment, "I hope this doesn't come out sounding like that. I don't know who is responsible, and I am not blaming anyone." Natalie smiled and nodded her head.
"Can I speak to Mr. Craden ... ask him a few questions?"
"No, he does not want to comment on this matter. He is resting. Perhaps later."
"How is he? Was he shaken?"
"You read his speech. He is solid as a rock. A few bullets won't deter Jacob Craden."  
    .....

Archbishop John Andersen looked quite human in his casual clothes. The air of holiness that he normally had about him was missing. Natalie started her interview right to the point, "What is your reaction to the attempt on the life of Jacob Craden?"
"Well! I don't know who is behind that. I think he has angered many a men in his lifetime. One of those men took matters in his own hands ... perhaps. It could be anyone who is angered by his ideas ... his speeches."
"Did you hear what he said in his speech that night?"
"I skimmed through part of the news. He is an anti-religious freak. He speaks not only against the church but also against God and Christ. He is a blasphemer of the lowest kind. Such people are not tolerated by many. We in the Catholic Church have our bible and teachings of Christ. We would gladly turn the other cheek. We do not believe in retribution. God will deal with him when his time comes." He raised his eyes towards the sky.
"But you have spoken against him and his Realism party in recent weeks, calling them "enemies of the church and decency." How do you relate that to the violence against him?"
"Our attempt is to wake people to the evil around them and help them reject it, and turn to God. We are doing God's work on earth. He is doing Satan's. We want to bring peace and the word of God to men, he wants to stir them in a frenzy of unrest and violence."  
"Some people think that the assassination attempt was the work of an organized group, do you have any reaction to that?"
"It's possible that some group or organization that has been targeted by him in the past may think enough is enough."
"What do you think of his attacks on the Catholic Church? This has been one of his targets since even before the beginning of the Realism party."
"He is a heathen, a sinner, a most horrible and despicable man. We do not care for his attacks on our church. But the church does not seek vengeance. That's in the hands of the almighty."
"Have you ever spoken to Jacob Craden personally?"
"No, I would advise all to stay away from such evil. When a man has chosen to bring the message of Satan to the masses, he should be shunned. I don't believe there is any hope for such a man."
    .....
     
Natalie looked at her face in the mirror. She had had a long day. Now that she had finished the interviews with all the principals, she had time to think. Which direction was she headed in?
She poured herself a glass of Black Velvet and water and considered what she knew so far ... a paid assassin had tried to kill the leader of a political party, which at its heart was anti-religious if nothing else. The Catholic Church ... the archbishop had spoken out against this group very recently ... Andy Imberg had expressed his feelings about the church trying to silence their party and sending a message to their candidates ... it had to be connected ... who else wanted Jacob Craden out ... did the existing political parties or their candidates have anything to fear ... yes, they did ... the polls were in favor of Jake Scott and Hank Silva, even she herself liked Hank Silva. His journalism background added to his image. 
Natalie poured herself another whiskey and wondered if the Catholic Church could be really as sinister as Jacob Craden made it out to be in his speeches? The thing to remember was that this whole incident was quite sinister, no matter who was behind it.
She dreamed that Jesus Christ was walking towards her with a staff in his hand. Natalie and Andy Imberg were walking up to him, but Archbishop Andersen came up from the side and reached him first. He whispering something in Jesus's ears as she and Andy reached him. Jesus raised his staff and cracked open Andy's head. Blood spurted everywhere, her dress was covered with blood. Andy collapsed at her feet. Natalie bent over him paralyzed with fear and bewilderment. Jesus raised the staff over her head and said, "Your turn heathen." She screamed and collapsed.
.....



Chapter 15 ... The Assassination
Chicago was much too cold for Spade's liking. The late October winds would pick up the moisture from the river and then use the frozen moisture like knives to dig into his bones. It was not a city fit for humans, and this was not even November yet. The Colonel was not happy. He had flown all the way from New York to meet with him. Spade did not like the look on his face.
"I am sorry Colonel, but as I had explained to you ..."
"That's over with Spade, I just want you to keep your mouth shut about it." He handed him a fat envelope containing crisp new hundred dollar bills.
"But I really did not expect any payment for that. I screwed up and I won't take any money for it" Spade took the money eagerly, counting roughly half of it. There were fifty thousand dollars in that envelope. He pocketed it quickly. "Holy mother! What did I do to deserve it," he wondered.
"That's to cover your expenses if any, and even though you did not do exactly what we asked you to do, I have a new assignment for you."
Spade ran his tongue over his lips.  He knew he had somehow hit the mother lode. "Anything Colonel, I will do anything for you." He meant every word.
"Here are the pictures of the man and information about him. And, this time it will be easier, you don't need my approval. When you see an opportunity to do it, do it. Just make sure, you don't miss him. Take your time in doing it. I want a perfect job this time. No fuck-ups. Remember, make sure, and take your time." He handed him a large brown envelope containing pictures and papers.
Spade took the pictures out. His eyes widened as he recognized the target. He looked at the Colonel and wondered if he could say anything or ask a question. He waited for a while, fingering the pictures, "Do you want this done right away?"
"There is no special hurry, but I want you to get started right away. And Spade, do not make any mistakes. I want you to follow my directions to the word. It's very important. And yes, you would get a quarter at the end."
    .....
   
Like a bad dream, Spade came back to Denver. This time he was Peter Kramer and had a mustache. He was from Miami and wore his favorite dark brown leather jacket. He also wore a blonde toupee that covered his ears and collar. This time he carried a suitcase and rented a burgundy Cadillac.
    .....

John Andersen's Tuesdays were always hectic. But this Tuesday had taken him out to Colorado Springs for an emergency meeting. He was tired even before he got back to Denver. He changed his plans to work in the evening and headed straight for home.
The burgundy Cadillac waited near the archdiocese offices on University Boulevard till seven p.m. When the white Lincoln drove back out of the office with only the chauffeur, Spade drove to the residence of the archbishop.          
He had the blueprints of the residence well memorized and knew that the archbishop slept in the west wing of the house. He scaled the eight-foot wall and waited in the dark, just inside. Even though there had been no signs of dogs when he had been there earlier, he was not leaving anything to chance. After five minutes, when no dogs had shown up, he relaxed and unscrewed the silencer from the nine-millimeter semi-automatic and put it in the backpack. He walked around the house, east to south to west. 
    .....

Archbishop Andersen looked in the mirror. His eyes were slightly red. He splashed some cold water into his eyes. He was tired and decided not to brush his teeth. He walked into the large bedroom and took off his robe. He sat on the bed and looked towards the west side window. The draperies were drawn but he knew it was pitch dark outside. He sat on the edge of the bed thinking.
Spade adjusted the woolen cap over his ears. The temperature had dropped from a pleasant sixty-two degrees to a chilling thirty-seven in the last few hours. The sun had disappeared early on, taking the warmth away with it. Spade inched towards the semi-lit bedroom window. He looked inside but could not make out anything through the drapes. He knew the position of the bed was parallel to the window. He took off the backpack and placed it near his feet, crouching, he slowly massaged his gloved hands and waited.
The light went off near eight p.m. Spade waited for twenty minutes more. He put the grenade and the three-fifty-seven magnum on the windowsill. With his hammer he took four quick blows at the triple-pane window, shattering it in a split second. He pulled the pin out of the grenade, pulled the drapes aside with one hand and threw the grenade towards the bed.
John Andersen woke up in a sweat. He had heard what seemed to be four shots through the window. He threw off the blankets and rolled off the bed away from the window. There was a large thud, something dropped in the room. He started crawling towards the bathroom.
The explosion lit up the bedroom temporarily blinding John Andersen. Spade counted to five and climbed into the bedroom through the broken window.
John Andersen had been hit with fragments of the bed, glass and ceiling. He had dust and dirt in his eyes, mouth and nose. There was a ringing in his head. He could not see anything. It was totally dark.
Spade flicked on his flashlight and saw the crouching figure on the floor. John Andersen saw a dark figure with a gun in his hand. He raised his hands and tried to scream. The three-fifty-seven magnum came alive three times and he dropped down. Spade focused the flashlight on him. John Andersen's head had been shattered; he was dead. He shot him once again, straight through the heart. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handful of papers. He threw them over the dead body.
He vaulted out of the bedroom, over the wall and into his Cadillac. He drove quickly out of the housing area and was on University Boulevard in seven more minutes. He looked at his watch, eight-thirty-two. He had done his job and had cleared out in twelve minutes. He was proud of the perfect hit. His lips were dry and his heart was pounding. He started breathing deeply to calm himself.
It was another four minutes, when he heard the fire trucks and police cars going towards Cherry Creek Village. He kept a moderate speed, keeping his car in the middle of the other few cars that were on the road and drove up to Arapahoe, turned left and headed towards the highway.
    .....
   
Detective Steve Malooney was amazed. Someone had the guts to kill the archbishop in his own home, in a secure neighborhood, using a bomb! This was a professional hit. He waited for the lab people to take pictures and samples. He looked at the pamphlets, several copies of "Is God Necessary" by Jacob Craden, and "Reality - Your New Life," lay blood soaked among others.
"What could be the meaning of this? Is this some kind of a message?" he wondered.
    .....

Governor Sam Shepard called the attorney general in. Helen Taggert looked like she had been through hell.  She hadn't slept all night. There were dark circles under her eyes, the three cups of coffee that she had downed in a hurry hadn't done her much good either.
"What exactly have you found out so far?"
"Governor, Archbishop Andersen was killed in his own home around eight-thirty last night by one or more killers. They broke open the bedroom window and possibly threw a grenade ..."  
"What the hell ... a grenade?"
"Yes Governor, the police think a grenade was thrown into the bedroom. There were several shots fired at close range ..."
"How close?"
She looked at her notes, "a few feet ... He was shot several times in the head and once through the heart. A professional hit without any doubt."
"Damn it" the Governor hit his right fist into the palm of his left hand. "What else?"
She hesitated, "they found some pamphlets from the Realism Party ... thrown around the dead body. You know ... written by Jacob Craden ... anti-religious pamphlets."
"God damn son of a bitch", he shouted.
"The police are quite certain that it is a professional job, but so far they have found no finger prints or descriptions of the man or the car, just tire marks from possibly the getaway car. We have dogs trying to track the smell."
"Damn, damn." he muttered.
"We have no proof, and it's pure speculation on my part ... but you remember when someone tried to kill Jacob Craden ... earlier this month ... this could be ... sort of a revenge, you know? That was a lone assassin too, only this time this one succeeded."
    .....

Helen Taggert called her assistant into her office, "Tom, you remember that contact you have with the newspaper ..."
"Yes, Terry Rupert ... why?"
"You need to call him and leak the news of the Realism party's involvement in the assassination of the archbishop ... tell your source that the Realism party may have been responsible in the killing of Archbishop Andersen ...  let them know about the pamphlets found thrown around the body ... and just for your own information, these orders are from the Governor ... he wants this done."
"But I thought ... the pamphlets are just plants and may have been left there to create speculation. I mean, who would be that stupid to ..."
"The Governor has other plans and ideas .. he may be trying to cripple the Realism party ...  he may be just trying to give them a black eye ... this is serious business, be very careful."
    .....

Terry Rupert was surprised to get the call. He called Natalie over to his desk, "You won't believe this, there is a rumor that the Realism party may be behind the John Andersen assassination."
"Wow, where did you hear that?"
"It's one of my "off-the-record" sources in the A.G.'s office. Apparently they found some pamphlets from the Realism party at the scene of the crime."
Natalie's mind was racing, "Are they trying to say ... is this a revenge for the attack on Jacob Craden ... that was just weeks ago, Terry."
"Well, kinda stupid ... to leave your calling card."
"That has to be an obvious attempt to throw suspicion on them ... no one can be that stupid ...  to draw attention to themselves ... I am going to call that guy in their P.R. department, I want some interviews. I want to find out more."
    .....

Spade waited in his downtown rental apartment for the news to hit. He had barely woken up at three in the afternoon. He ate the cold pizza from his refrigerator and turned on the TV. The soaps were interrupted a few times with special news bulletins but there wasn't enough.
Tom Brokaw started the six-o'clock news with, "Shocking news from Denver, Colorado ... last night, assassins broke into the home of the Archbishop of Colorado - John Andersen ... and killed him ... the catholic church is grieving the loss of the reverend John Andersen at the young age of fifty-three ... The attack seems to have been well planned and violent ... the work of hired assassins ... "
Spade smiled. Good, they think more than one person has done it. Great! He turned the volume louder to hear the comments from Archbishop Sam Kennedy in New York;" There has been too much violence in our society and now Archbishop John Andersen - a man of God, has been murdered ruthlessly by anti-social, anti-religious, anti-establishment, anti-life criminals festering in our society."     
"You bastard, you are the ones who wanted him dead, son of a bitch", he smiled and poured himself half a glass of bourbon and waited for the call from the Colonel.
    .....

Cardinal Sarducchi was pleased. He got Sam Kennedy on the phone, "Sam, good work. I like how this is turning out. Get ... ah ... as much out of this as you can."
"Thank you Cardinal. The earlier attack was just a bad mistake by the operators ... this one was better planned and financed. I am happy that you are pleased with this. We have suggested everyone to take full advantage of this by speaking out against the Realism group among others. This could turn things around for us."   
"Yes, yes ... that's good. We are going to issue a statement from here also. And Sam ...  remember, this is only the first step. We have a long way to go to accomplish God's good work."
.....



Chapter 16 ... Jacob's Speech II
The TV reporters thrust their mikes in Andy's face. He was angry, annoyed and worried. Jacob had thrown a tantrum when Andy tried to talk him into appearing before the press. Andy knew, this was too big, too serious, and too volatile to not be attended by Jacob. The fate of the whole organization depended on what the media believed or portrayed from now on. Andy tried to keep his tone level and looked straight at the reporters, "We are extremely disturbed by the assassination of Archbishop Andersen ... we condemn this action and the people responsible for it ... the Realism party does not condone such violence ... we stand for morality and life ... we detest the killing of any human being."
"Mr. Imberg, hasn't your party been involved in criticism of the church and it's leadership ... hasn't it ridiculed religion and the church?"
"The ideas that are the basis of our organization are truth and reality, and individual choices without coercion in any form ... we have criticized religion because we perceive it to be one of the most subtle forms of coercion in our society ... We have never encouraged violence against anyone."
"What about the stories that your party has been linked to the archbishop's murder and is under investigation?"
"We have not been questioned by anyone yet, but would like to offer any help in uncovering the person or persons behind this, there is no truth in the rumors that someone is spreading about our party to hurt our image", he knew it was time, he introduced Jacob to the press.
"Mr. Craden, what's your reaction to the murder of the Archbishop?"
"The death of a human being in such a way is deplorable. This is what our society is heading for ... it's a sad reality of the times. Such tragic violence is becoming the norm rather that the exception. I do not support any initiation of aggression or violence against anyone."
"Do you feel that your ideas against the church may have caused this?"
"I do not like the implication of that question. I have never suggested violent means for achieving individual freedom in any form other than to respond to violence. This act is the act of a coward, I can assure you that this is not our organization's doing today, and will not be our way of dealing with others tomorrow. I personally detest violence preferring to use more powerful means to change society, ideas expressed by words not by bullets."
Andy sighed with relief. The worst was over and hopefully the spin-doctors will not put another meaning on Jacob's words.
    .....

Natalie Skinner looked highly desirable. Andy wondered if he was losing control over his feelings as the situation around him kept getting worse.  Maybe his mind had developed a defensive mechanism or was just blocking out the bad news. He shook his head wondering why she had asked for an individual interview with him. She had mentioned something about some information she wanted to discuss with him without letting it out to the rest of the media.
"I am really sorry about those people out there, Andy. They are like hounds that smell blood."
"It is their job to do that. Hopefully they will not twist what we said and create their own meanings. What is it that you wanted from me?"
"We have got a leak from someone in the A.G.'s office that some of the Realism party literature was found around the body of the archbishop. Have you been questioned about that yet?"
Andy's heart stopped beating. He could not believe what he had just heard, "What ... our party literature ... on the dead body ... are you certain?"
"That's what we have been told unofficially. You may know more, once they decide to question you."
"Unless they called in the last hour, I have not heard anything from the police or the A.G.'s office. I can't believe someone would put our literature there ... some kind of sick joke I suppose. I had no idea. This is terrible news, if true."
Natalie nodded in sympathy. She believed he was telling the truth, that he had not known about the literature on the crime scene. She drove back to the office more puzzled than she had been before.
    .....

Andy sought the help of Michael, "Michael, we have to do something about the upcoming Realism convention. We can't let Jacob go out there and blast the church and religion once again ... not now ... not with all this stuff ... our literature on the murder scene ... you have to help me stop this somehow."
Michael had barely recovered from his questioning by the A.G.'s office, he was one of the ten principals interviewed by them. He understood the gravity of the situation. "I agree with you completely, but who is going to convince Jacob? He loves entering the lion's den. He does not care about the outcome of something so volatile ... he loves the feeling of fighting danger. That's his badge of honor. He is so hardheaded. You know how he is."
"Among other things he was going to ridicule the customs of the church in his speech, the role of money in religion ... you know ... not the best possible speech at this time. Can't we do something?"
"Well, he has said those things about church and money before", he thought for a while, "He may have to be convinced by the whole group. We can have a special meeting, I think we do need to try. If everyone tells him the same thing, he may agree."
    .....

Jacob was too powerful, too hardheaded, too stubborn, and too strong to be swayed by the group's discussion. It was his speech, being delivered before his party, and no one dare even hint of censoring his words. His words were too powerful, in the end, they did not even vote, there was no point in it. He would have ignored them, overruling them in his own unique way.
    .....

Sam Kennedy arrived in Rome early in the morning by the Alitalia flight. The Colonel was waiting for him, having flown a day earlier. The chauffeur drove them to the Hilton and Archbishop Kennedy checked in. This was an unannounced, unofficial visit at the request of Cardinal Sarducchi. 
The evening meeting with Cardinal Sarducchi and Cardinal Jack Fisher was rather informal. As usual there was wine, cheese and fruit to allow them to relax and discuss the next phase, "I have been very pleased with how you handled the failed attempt and turned it to our ... side ... by putting the ... the suspicion on them for the killing of Archbishop Andersen ... may God rest his soul."
The Colonel smiled, "Cardinal, it was our intention to punish our man for his failure, but ... the Archbishop had a better idea. The same man who made such a mess of the first job was used to do the second job. As you said we turned a bad situation completely around."
Cardinal Sarducchi poured more red wine for his guests and a generous helping for himself. He took a bite of the local cheese and said, "Try the cheese, it's made out of goat milk ... very nice ... yes? ... As I was saying, how much did you have to pay these people and is it safe ... will they, how you say it ... keep the  ... quiet .. keep the secret?"
"Don't worry about the secrecy. The operators will not be used for anything anymore and have been paid more than half a million dollars so far. But we are more interested in the rest of the plan."
The Colonel smiled. "What a smooth liar Sam Kennedy is, he turned a quarter million expense into a quarter million dollar gain in the blink of an eye." He told himself.  He was enjoying this. This was the big time for the Colonel, the biggest ever.
They left after further discussions and agreements for the ultimate plan.
    .....

Jacob Craden was not giving an inch, he had never done that before and did not even know how. "What makes the church tick? Like any political party, like any business, the heartbeat of the church resides in money. If money had not existed, the church would have invented it.
"From the very first church, the richer the parish, the more lavish the church was, the poorer parishes were destined to pray at a wooden cross. The rich had an understanding and fear of the church, the church promised "salvation" for money. It created the concept of salvation ... a most interesting concept ... it was not selling membership, it was not selling goods or services, it was selling an un-understandable concept of a good life after death. The best part of selling it is that no delivery is required and your customer cannot come back for a refund. There is no possibility of a backfire.  The deal will never go bad.
"To realize how deep this is embedded in the conscience of society, consider some of the customs of the church ... like cannibalism. The church would be the first to condemn cannibalism, yet its custom is built on cannibalism, the salvation that it sells, is symbolized by eating the flesh of a human being and drinking his blood. And we accept this as normal! When the story of the plane crash and the survivors eating human flesh is told, most of us are disgusted ... yet, when on each Sunday the church feeds you the flesh of Christ and gives you his blood to drink, why are you not revolted? What is this pretension behind words that dulls your sensibilities and logic? Why do you suspend your power of judgment? Why do you close your eyes and accept the absurd notion that by eating a man's flesh and drinking his blood will make you one with him?
The applause was somewhat subdued. The members of the Realism party were awed by the strength of Jacob Craden. A week after the assassination of the archbishop of Colorado, and four days after the questioning by the A.G.'s office, and still being subjected to rumors in the press, Jacob had the courage to continue to speak his mind against the rituals of the church, he continued to doggedly expose the fibers that bound the church. His courage and strength were etched in the minds of the people.
    .....

The short dark man in the black suit and gray hat walked hurriedly through Kennedy Airport's customs and immigration. He was looking for someone, squinting his eyes against the bright lights in the terminal. The Colonel spotted him and walked up to him, "Mr. Paggio? I am Sam's friend."
"Oh Colonel! I did not quite recognize you. Must be the long flight. How is our friend, the archbishop?"
"I am here to take you to your hotel and then we will meet with him later this evening."
The drive to the downtown Marriott was quiet. Roberto Paggio was accompanied with two small suitcases and a fat briefcase. The Colonel wondered how much money had been brought for the execution of the extensive plan that Cardinal Sarducchi had developed with Archbishop Kennedy and him.
    .....

This was a down-to-earth, get-down-and-dirty type of meeting. Cardinal Kennedy had made sure that enough liquor had been brought in for his visitors. He was partial to vodka and the Colonel joined him. Roberto preferred straight scotch. They toasted to the plan, "We have made arrangements to deliver dynamite and plastics to you through Chicago. I am going to detail you on the plan as envisioned by the Vatican.
"A group of forty people plus you or your field operatives would be the minimum number of people needed. You could enlarge the group to as many as sixty or more, if you are comfortable with that."
"The more the number of people, the less control you have, secrecy goes out the window," the Colonel interjected.
"We can get you reliable people through our contacts, if you have a problem getting such a large number," Roberto smiled at the archbishop.
"Let's go over the details, before we start solving logistical problems," the archbishop poured himself another large drink of vodka.
"We want you to hit thirty or thirty-five targets.  You may have to take some hits on your personnel too. The targets are spread out from Colorado Springs to Boulder, that's why the large number of people will be needed," Roberto gulped down the remaining scotch in his glass and licked his lips. He wanted a cigarette badly but was not sure if he could smoke in the presence of the archbishop.    
"I remember the cardinal insisted that all this be synchronized and be done as close as possible. I have thought that if we positioned five or seven teams ... say one for every five targets ... one in Boulder, one in Colorado Springs and the rest in Denver ... we could achieve it", the Colonel's eyes were narrowed in thought.
Roberto opened his fat briefcase and removed the map of Colorado from the top, exposing rows upon rows of stacked hundred dollar bills. "I have brought the seed money", he smiled.  "Two million dollars. If anymore is needed, I am authorized to let you spend it with the understanding that we will repay you."
Archbishop Kennedy's eyes lit up, "We will gladly do our part and share in the expenses as much as we can."
Roberto spread out the map on the table and started reciting the targets. 
.....

Before we can decide the necessity of god, we need to understand god. God was created by humans because of the critical necessity to explain inexplicable phenomenon - The rising of the sun, the creation of man, the creation of man's surroundings ... all natural and physical phenomenon could be explained by creating the concept of god. It worked very well.
And as the intelligence of the people grew, the powers attributed to god and his role grew. When the physical life was not enough, an after life and previous lives were created.
A peaceful and horrible eternity was created. If you did not like him or serve his purpose, you could be punished by him forever. If you served him or his agent's purpose, you could be rewarded forever.
God served man well. Especially the man who used god for his own purposes.  Power and wealth could be had by using god, and giant institutions were formed to exploit it. The creation of priests and bishops and cardinals and popes followed.     This was a great growing industry. The extent of Power and Wealth was only limited by the vision of the people.
As this explosion of control over people's lives has been taking place, a few rational beings have rejected the concept of god. The concept of god is not only irrational, it's also insulting to the intelligence of man.
As man realizes his own strengths and capacities to reach his own goals; as he achieves the means to his own happiness using his own capabilities; the unacceptable irrationality of a supreme being and a life hereafter and a life before is easily rejected.    
The explicability or nonexplicability of a phenomenon, physical or natural does not explain the phenomenon of god. Once an individual recognizes his own rational faculty and understands the complexities of goals and happiness and his ability to achieve or fail on his own, the individual acquires the attributes of a real human being.
And for real humans there is no need of god or heaven or hell; or even the stories of god or heaven or hell.


















































A publication of:

Realism party
555 Waterford Canyon
Highlands Ranch, CO 80123
   







Is God Necessary
by
Jacob Craden
 




Chapter 17 ... The Governor's Rage
Sam Shepard slammed down the newspaper, "God damn son of a bitch ... who the hell does he think he is? How dare he give a speech like this within weeks of the murder of the archbishop? The bastard." He lit a cigarette and poured himself another cup of coffee. His secretary connected him to archbishop Kennedy, "Yes, this is the governor. I am boiling mad here at those bastards in the realism party. The speech that bastard Craden gave last night ... he shouldn't be allowed to live."
"Yes, that's quite shameless. These people never learn when to stop, for Jacob Craden to talk like that within days of the Holy Father's murder ... it's inexcusable. But ... what can one do about it? Our society accepts it ... tolerates this indecency. How can one turn all this around? These men don't listen to reason, they live in their own make believe world."
"I am going to talk to him directly. I will demand that he stop this attack on our churches and religion. I am going to warn him ... once and for all. I am not tolerating anymore nonsense from this group."
Archbishop Kennedy smiled. He marveled at how well things were working out, for the best ... maybe the governor could be used to their own advantage. He hung up slowly.
    .....

Jacob Craden arrived at the governor's mansion that evening. Andy and Michael accompanied him, but the governor met him alone in the small study room on the second floor, next to the bedroom.
"I am glad you made it Mr. Craden. I have been holding back for a long time. I am a religious man ... I have been forever ... if I didn't have my faith I wouldn't have survived this long."
Jacob hesitated, he was about to say that he too was very religious in his own way, but decided to not get the Governor any more confused or angry.
"I go to church every Sunday that I can. I contribute what I can. My wife is involved in all sorts of church activities. I too take part. To me church is part of our life ... a very essential part for the citizens of our state and our nation. It's essential to put our faith in the creator and follow his teachings. Religion holds the fabric of our society together. It's the bond that binds us together. I have been very angry with you and your kind of organizations. I can't believe your audacity in continuing to attack the church a few days after the murder of the archbishop. What is your reason for this indecency, this attack?"
"I am sorry Governor, but I and my organization are basically opposed to the Catholic Church ... this opposition is intellectual and rational not violent. I do not condone the killing of any human. Our organization has continued to grow because of the support of the citizens of this state and country. Very simply, if they did not support us ... if they withdrew their support ... our organization will parish. I believe that I have a right ... no a duty  ... to continue the message of realism ... to help the members, and the organization. The archbishop's death was unfortunate but I have a duty to my organization and it's goals, I speak my mind without fear and hope they will learn from my example."
"I am warning you Jacob Craden, I will not stand for such behavior again. I do not want to see any body punished, but you are asking for it. I am through being a nice guy. If there is a next time, I will not talk to you. I will act."
"I can't see any point in talking about un-substantive accusations against me ... and your threats are nothing new governor. We have had threats since we organized our first talk. And have you forgotten; it was I, who was the target of assassins not too many days ago! Where was your anger then? Is your sympathy only towards a few selective people?"
    .....

Andy and Michael got all the details by the time they reached the headquarters. Andy was worried, "This could be very serious."
Michael agreed, suggesting, "I think, we need to cool it for a while ... not be so gung-ho for a while ... let things settle. The governor can make things really hard for us. We don't need another powerful enemy."
"I can't believe you are talking like the cowardly governor! These bastards like to do things by intimidation. I will not be intimidated ", Jacob smashed his fist on the desk.
"Jacob, you have to realize ... things are getting dangerous ... that attack on your limo was close to being successful", Andy almost whispered.
"I don't mind getting shot ... I don't mind dying. I will say what I have to say and take the consequences ... whether I deserve to die for my beliefs or not is inconsequential ... it does not matter if they kill me, it matters if they silence me."
Andy and Michael looked at each other. They walked out shaking their heads.
    .....

The editorial by Jack Short was titled "The Psychotic's Reality."   
"Jacob Craden of the Realism party was the target of possible assassins on October 5th, we were shocked and outraged by that. A few days later on October 18th, the archbishop of Colorado was brutally murdered in his bed. We were shocked and outraged by that too. 
We have watched the growth of the Realism party in awe. It came from nowhere and acquired national prominence. Two of its members are now in the state senate. Both Jake Scott and Hank Silva are thoughtful, respectable and extremely capable senators. Colorado is proud to have them and hopes for bigger and better things for and from them.
The behavior of Jacob Craden in the midst of the sorrow of our community is what we find outrageous. He continues his relentless criticism of the Catholic Church and its proponents to the point of indecency. When he addressed the Realism party convention and attacked the custom of the Eucharist as cannibalism, he crossed the limits of public decency and entered the realm of the psychotic.
We were angry at the violence against Jacob Craden. The anger we have at the murder of the archbishop is greater. The archbishop of Colorado has a greater influence on the well being of our society. The anger we have at the uttering of Jacob Craden surpasses all angers. His behavior is hideous, uncivilized, unacceptable, and unforgivable.
We cherish the rights of speech as our fundamental right, but we cherish the right of decency and humanity over all others. If this is the underlying ugliness of the Realism party, it has no place in our society. If not, then Jacob Craden should be unceremoniously removed from his party, he has no place in our society."
    .....

The call from Andy was quite unexpected. Natalie remembered his charm as she had interviewed him, she thought she liked him and accepted the dinner invitation easily. She knew this would be mostly business and didn't expect too much out of the evening.
Andy and Natalie sat down to dinner. Over a glass of white wine Andy began, "I have been really surprised by the viciousness of the media against Jacob Craden and our party. I find it hard to believe that voices are being raised to stifle him."
"It's coming to a head, I think. I feel that people have tolerated a lot of strange things for quite some time but the novelty may be wearing off. The media is just responding to the call of the times, Andy. Things are not as they seem out there, a lot of things are happening below the surface."
"Are you saying that there is no tolerance for different thought and belief? I feel that basic rationality is being abandoned in favor of a mob mentality. I agree that a very important church leader has been murdered, but the way the governor has been behaving ... and some of the editorials ... you would believe that Jacob Craden was on trial for murder."
"Andy, you know that he is. He may not be suspected ... he may not be tried ... he may not be proved guilty ... but he can be punished ... I think that's what you are seeing ... but then, he keeps on talking this way ... almost taunting everybody ... bring on your guns ... you know, sort of a devil-may-care type of an attitude. He doesn't seem to be very cautious."
"Natalie, Is that fair? He does not approve of violence or killing ... he has the right to speak his ideas in front of people that want to listen to him, doesn't he? Should he be persecuted for his ideas? In this century? In our time and age ... it's quite unbelievable."
"You may not realize this, but people are turning more and more conservative, they are less likely to turn the other cheek if they feel their style of life is being threatened. They are like children who like the warmth of the fire, but scream when they get burned, because they got too close. You should realize that public opinion is definitely changing. The public is fickle and turns its direction in an instant. All they need is a little trigger, any little thing."
"We both know what public opinion is ... a couple of editorials, a couple of politicians making speeches, a well organized demonstration ... and you have your public opinion, whichever way you want it."
"That's quite correct in most cases. But you know, your party is in for some rough times. The public does not like what it may consider violation of some sort of boundaries ... some kind of taboos. Can't you get Craden to shift his focus or keep quiet for a while?"
"We have been trying to do what we can. He is not an easy man to be persuaded. He does have a very strong sense of the correctness of things ... he is guided by a much stronger ... unforgiving sense of his own destiny. He does not yield easily."
    .....

The governor was glad to receive the call from Archbishop Kennedy, "Yes, I did talk to him ... he doesn't seem to give a damn, but I have warned him.  We will wait and see what happens next. I would prefer if there wasn't a next time."
"I had a feeling that he cannot be persuaded. He is the kind of person that doesn't give an inch. But, we have our own plan to deal with him in a big way. We want to finish him and his party once and for all."
"How do you plan to do that ... Is there some way that we can help you in your plan? I am willing to help you in anyway that we can. He has got me hopping mad."
"We are finalizing our plans and will be sending our teams to Colorado when they are ready to execute it. I will be in touch with you and give you the details."
"You can count on me and my administration for anything you need or want ... anything we can do ... please don't hesitate to call me. I will do all in my power to help you in your plan."
Sam Shepard relaxed for a while. He then started weighing the archbishop's words and wondered what sinister plans were being hatched in New York. Did he commit himself too easily, he wondered uneasily what he was getting himself into?
    .....

Governor Shepard's press conference began with a prepared message: My administration is seeking legal ways to ban organizations like the Realism party. This organization has been linked to the assassination of the archbishop of Colorado and its actions in the recent past have brought forth its true anti-social nature to the surface. The structure of our society is based on family and church. Organizations like these are bent upon the destruction of the very basis of our society. The violent nature of this organization is an extreme threat to the stability of our society. I as the governor am committed to preserving the stability of our society by whatever means available.
"Are you declaring the Realism party illegal as of now?"
"The A.G.'s office is looking into ways to stop its existence by legal means ... the events of the recent past may be used against it."
"Are you challenging any other organizations ... other than the Realism party?"
"It will be our first target, but we are going to take a look at any antisocial organization in a different light from now on. We want to preserve the peace and quiet of our society. Our citizens have a right to feel secure and unthreatened by such antisocial elements."
"What about the separation of the state and the church? How can you take a stance that is pro-religion and not violate the neutrality of your office?"
"This action is not targeted against the Realism party because of its antireligious stance. It's targeted against this party because of its antisocial stance and its violent agenda that is coming to light." 
"What is the connection between the Realism party and the murder of the archbishop?"
"The A.G.'s office can fully explain what the connection is. My information is that the killers placed the literature of the Realism party at the site of the murder as a warning to the rest of us. The sanctity of a human life did not mean anything to them. It was just a means of silencing opposition. It was akin to claiming responsibility for the murder, in my opinion. It was like the action of a street gang. They not only murdered the archbishop, they also wanted to claim the killing as a badge of honor like so many other terrorists do."
    .....

The A.G.'s office confirmed the existence of the literature but nothing more. The organization was under investigation but no link had been established between the Realism party and the murder. More information will be made public as soon as it was available. 
The Realism party was under siege. Andy spent most of the day pacing back and forth. He re-read the editorial and the governor's comments. He held a long discussion with Michael. Michael convinced him to call an emergency meeting of the board.
.....



Chapter 18 ... The Counter
Andy took a sip of water and looked at Jake Scott for assurance. Jake had walked in stiffly, his face tense, his eyes red with sleeplessness. "I am glad you called the meeting, Andy. I feel tremendous pressure from all the citizens that have been calling and writing to me. It's getting awful. We need to do something."
"We will try to bring everyone up-to-date on where we stand, what our options are, and what we can do from this point on." Andy patted him lightly on the shoulder. He looked at the group of thirteen that officially constituted the board and Lisa, who had become a fourteenth member by being present in some of their meetings and by her active participation in discussions and decision making.
Andy began, "In barely five weeks, we have undergone a phenomenal set of events ... the attempt on Jacob, the murder of the archbishop, and the governor's attempt to get our party declared illegal.  
"The attempt on Jacob was a professional job, we were lucky that the precautions we have been taking allowed us to escape without any injuries. The police do not seem to have many clues and now with the new turn of events, we may never find who was behind it.
"The murder of the archbishop was executed in part to throw suspicion on us. The presence of our pamphlets points at us in a crude way. For the authorities to act so stupidly as to fall for this obvious plant is unimaginable."
"They may be just grasping at straws ... they have been frustrated by our successes and may be willing to accept anything," Michael interjected.
Jacob raised his hands, "Don't be fooled by the obvious. Someone has probably planned the whole scenario .... perhaps hand in hand with the authorities. The Governor was extremely offensive towards me and warned me against speaking out when we met. This may be deeper than you think."
Andy steered the discussion again, "We will probably not be able to find who is behind all this. What we do need to decide is, where do we go from here? Michael and I have talked to our legal counsel, who will fight any action taken against our party. What they have cautioned us about is: the possibility of extraordinary actions taken under the guise of "public safety under critical conditions." The governor and the legislators can acquire extraordinary powers under those conditions and can act as dictators."
There was a prolonged pause as the gravity of the situation sunk in. "We must preserve our party and our independence by all means," Lisa spoke with conviction trying to interject some action in their discussion. She was annoyed at all the pessimism that was overtaking the meeting.
"Should we attack the authorities for their accusations? Should we wait for them to take the next step? What should we plan for?" Michael wanted action as much as Lisa.
"We can have a demonstration of support from our people, we can have the "freedom of speech" angle played up too."
Lisa liked this better, "Let's arrange a rally of our supporters. A gathering at the capitol. A show of solidarity. We can demonstrate our strength."
In the end, it was quite unanimous. A public show of support will be planned. A little gathering at the end of the march on the Capitol steps. And a few speeches.
    .....

Michael held Jacob back in the meeting room. "Jacob, we are at a point where the next misstep will mean the end of our party ... the end of all we have struggled for ... the end of the movement that held so much promise just weeks ago ..."
"What are you getting at, Michael? Are you going to suggest the content of my next speech? Are you going to prevent me from speaking? Are you going to accomplish the goals of the governor for him?"
"I am trying to get you to understand the seriousness of the situation. If you can hold yourself to addressing the basics of Realism, without getting into the roots of God, church, and religion ...  without attacking them ... just keeping it positive around Realism and not negative around religion ... we may be able to pull this off and continue towards our goals. What we need to do is show our solidarity, appear in public as a moral, decent, friendly organization of men and women joining together for the good of the society. We must not be misunderstood, we must not appear threatening to the peace and stability of society. We must ... "
Jacob looked at Michael and shook his head, "Come on Lisa, let's go home. I am getting tired of this."
Michael stood in the room looking at the back of Jacob and Lisa as they walked out. He wondered if he was losing his friend, and his loyalty, and his future? He stood staring at empty space for a long time.
    .....

Jacob's anger was building up, but Lisa could not keep quiet, "I know you disagree, but I think Michael is very correct. This is not the time to think of just your own self, this involves the survival of the organization, the survival of us all, and the whole party. And I don't like any threats to your life either."
"You too ... I know and understand the criticality of our situation. What makes me mad is your assumptions, like Michael, that what I will speak will turn out to be destructive ... and now if I do not do what you all are afraid of ... I lose the perceived sense of my integrity ... do you realize what a predicament you have put me in?" he smiled sarcastically and shook his head. 
"What concerns me is what people out there perceive you to be ... people who do not know you. When you continued on your own agenda ... the message that the people out there got ... was not the honesty of your conviction, but the evilness of your ways ... you played right in the hands of the enemy, Jacob. Michael is right, your being good and honest is not enough, you must also appear to be good, honest, non-threatening, like everyone's neighbor Joe from next door."
She moved to him and held him in her arms. She wanted to sooth his pain, his anger, and also her own sense of doom. The night engulfed both of them in her dark hands and lulled them to sleep.
        .....

Andy was alarmed by the call from Michael. He called Jacob.
Lisa answered the phone, "He is sleeping, Andy. What's up?"
"I just talked to Michael ... he is not sure about what Jacob intends to do next ... he is concerned ..."
"Andy! I talked to him too. He needs to work it out himself ... he does not need anyone to irritate him anymore."
"It's more than irritation, Lisa. The whole goddamned world is out to get us ... we have to respond very carefully ... Jacob has to be extremely careful ... Jacob can't deal from a position of strength, we are down and need to come back up carefully and not appear ..."
"I am on your side, Andy ... but Jacob is also on your side ... give him the time to work it out. It's not only the party that is at stake ... it's also Jacob ... his whole life ... what he has put his whole life to build ... don't think that he does not understand that. He understands that and more. I will talk to him again, but I think he understands the seriousness of our situation and understands the predicament we are in. He will do what is correct, what is right."
Lisa looked out at the bright sun-drenched city and hoped.
    .....

The Colonel stood outside O'Hare airport waiting for a cab. He was fuming with anger over the new assignment at such a short notice, but knew that it had to be done. The meeting had been scheduled in a hurry and he had to make sure the personnel were adequate. He had protested mildly. He didn't want to use the Chicago crew, but Archbishop Kennedy forbade him to use the crew from the Colorado assignment.
The cab ride to the Elmhurst Marriott was unnerving. The sun had set and the biting winds from the lake had dropped down the temperature. He had just enough time for a shower and a scotch.
The Colonel was surprised to meet Menzel and Cindy Williamson. They were a nice couple. Clean cut with the appearance of white-collar, working professionals. "I am glad to meet you, but frankly I am a little surprised. I did not expect to see someone in business suites and ..."
"This is not our first job Colonel," Menzel smiled. "We have been working for the National Catholic Association for several years. Cindy and I have done several covert jobs in the past."
"All right then, I have been instructed to turn over the assignment to you. The Realism party is organizing a demonstration in Denver on the eighth of December ... we want that to be disrupted ... violently if possible. The cops will be on our side. Your contact in Denver will be Bishop James Gilmore. He will share with you his plans for a counter protest. His counter protest will take place close to the Realism demonstration. You will need approximately a dozen people to start the disruption ... a few key people will need to create the need for the authorities to intervene ... a demolition, gunfire, firebombs ... anything to bring the situation to a head."
"We have worked in Colorado before, nothing fancy ... just a protest against abortion ... a little firebombing. But we know the area and we have our people," Cindy smiled as she patted Menzel's shoulder.
The Colonel's doubts were fast diminishing. She is colder than anyone I have met. Her smile is so deceiving. She would probably plunge a knife in your chest while smiling sweetly all the time, he thought with a shudder. He continued, "You should be aware that we are planning a bigger project for later on this month ... just before Christmas. Nothing you do should jeopardize our project. No words, no leaks, nothing. Worst comes to worst ... abandon your project. The Christmas project is just too big to be hurt by anything. Do you understand? The Christmas job is the final job in this chapter, you are just adding a little taste of bitterness to the Realism party's cup."
"Of course, Colonel. Do you want to review the draft of our plan or should we go ahead and execute it? Mr. Paggio has given us his complete confidence. Is that enough for you?"
Robert Paggio was no warmhearted, animal loving human, he was colder than a stiletto. The reference to his name was enough for the Colonel. If Paggio had faith in these two, then he certainly felt relieved. He left satisfied that the couple he had just met would indeed carry out their assignment with as much success as his own people would have. He looked forward to his next scotch. The trip had been worth the hassle. He felt reassured.
    .....

Jacob rolled away from Lisa and slowly got out. He walked into the living room and stood by the window. He stared at the cold sky with a few stars still daring to stay out in the cold. He made a cup of instant coffee and recalled the events of the day.
There was a strong tension growing between him and Michael, and him and Lisa, and him and everyone else. He wondered if he had somehow imperiled the organization he had built, and the people he loved and cherished. The atmosphere in the meeting had been very unfriendly. There was a huge amount of uncertainty slowly taking hold of the group. He understood the gravity of their next move.
Michael was surprised at the early morning invitation from Jacob. He sat at the breakfast table enjoying the bacon, eggs and fresh coffee. Jacob seemed relaxed and Lisa seemed to be more enthusiastic than she had been for months.
"Michael, you were right, as always ... and I was wrong. I kept narrowing my focus instead of enlarging it."
Michael breathed a sigh of relief. "I am glad Jacob. I am relieved to hear that and so will the others. We need to slow down some. Lie low, let events happen slowly. Not push so hard. Things will turn around eventually and we can look back and laugh over the last few months. There will be time for more frontal attacks in the future, but for the time being we need to watch our backs."
Lisa poured more coffee for everyone, "He could not sleep last night. He sat drinking coffee and thinking about everything. I found him on the sofa, out like a drunk. But he seems to have found the answers he was looking for. And look at him, he even seems relaxed." 
"I feel better having resolved my own inner conflicts. In the process I have a better understanding of my relationships with all of you and the party. It was worth it to feel the solid ground under my feet again."
Jacob walked Michael to the front door with his arm around his friend.
    .....

The afternoon sun was melting the remnants of the snow from the storm three days ago. The mood of the people had brightened up. There were hints of clouds on the horizon, the forecasters predicted sunny and warm days till the weekend. Denver appeared calm, lazy and  at peace.
The two vans left the airport and headed downtown. The flight from Chicago had arrived on time and the group had formed into two. One group was under Menzel and the other under Cindy. There could be no communication problems under this arrangement. Cindy and Menzel had plotted the details of their project meticulously. The dirty dozen from Chicago knew their individual assignments well. Unknown to the people, Denver's peace was in jeopardy , Denver's calm was about to be shattered.
.....



Chapter 19 ... The March
Michael and Lisa worked together, planning the march, ordering banners and signs, creating and distributing an informational newsletter. In essence, they worked on everything. Michael enjoyed working closely with Lisa; she appreciated his sense of humor that came through even in the most routine job.
"You know, we should have gotten together earlier. We work well together. Let's keep this partnership going."
"Sure, Lisa. I was just not sure of what to expect from you. It has been fun working on the rally. I look forward to a bigger and better partnership."
"O.K. pardner. Bang." She smiled at him and shot him with her finger. He flicked the imaginary bullet off his shoulder. The day passed swiftly.
    .....

Bishop Forrest Johnson was overjoyed at the professionalism of the couple from Chicago. They had planned out every little detail. The Realism party was gathering at the Capitol steps at nine thirty A.M. The church gathering would take place at eight forty five in the Civic Park. Bishop Johnson would make a short speech and they would disperse just after nine forty five. As the group would disperse a segment would follow Cindy towards the Capitol. Menzel would already be at the Capitol intermingled with the Realism group. A confrontation would be created. All the weapons had been brought in and assembled. The crew was relaxed. This was just another routine job ... disturbing the peace of a community and creating chaos.
    .....

Cindy Williamson and her Chicago group walked towards the Civic Park. They had backpacks and carried signs: Love, Peace and Christ, and Love Thy Neighbor. The six-foot long two-by-fours that had signs nailed to them, made excellent weapons.
There were at least five hundred people gathered around the temporary stand created for the occasion. Bishop Johnson spotted the Chicago group and waved at Cindy. The support group of fifty that would follow Cindy was around her as the bishop began his speech.
"My fellow Christians, I welcome you to our little gathering in the park. We are here to show our strength ... our solidarity ... our faith ... It's not enough to have faith, we must actively proclaim it in order to preserve it and expand its reach ..."
    .....

Lisa opened the back of the van and took out several signs handing them to Michael and Andy. She carried the larger sign, still wrapped herself. Three other cars had joined their van in the parking lot and all twelve of them walked towards a larger group just north of 10th street. Lincoln Street was almost deserted this morning except for the demonstrators and a few curious onlookers.
The group had swelled to over fifty and with signs hoisted and a few slogans they started marching towards the Capitol. The sun had disappeared and a gray dullness had covered the city.
    .....

Natalie Skinner watched the group approach the steps of the Capitol. She recognized Andy in the front of the group and waved to him. Andy's eyes were bright with anticipation. He carried one of the numerous signs created by Lisa and Michael: Open Your Eyes to Reality. He passed on the sign to one of the fellow marchers and hurried towards Natalie, "Are you here to support us, or just for the story."
"Hi Andy. I am here to do both. How do you like that?" She flashed her friendly smile.
"That's just great. I am really happy to see you here. Let's get together at the end of the rally. We should talk. I want to ..." He was pulled away by one of the sign carrying men and vanished in the crowd.
Natalie positioned herself a little south of the podium. She glanced towards her left; the church gathering was taking place just a few hundred feet away. By now there were some cops on horseback and a few police cars were parked on Lincoln Street. She wondered if it was a coincidence or a plan to have the two completely opposite groups so close together.
Michael walked up to the podium and looked at the four hundred and fifty people gathered around him. He had expected more. He had wanted thousands of people, but this was good. He knocked on the microphone, "Friends and Realists ... welcome to the Capitol. We are meeting here to exercise our right to free speech and to demonstrate our unity and support for the ideas we stand for. We have been targets of media bashing and political name calling in the recent past. We are refuting that by showing our presence here."
Natalie noticed a group of people crossing the street from the west and walking up the Capitol. They were shouting and carrying signs. She gasped when she realized this was a group from the church demonstration.
Menzel Williamson carefully watched the group coming up the steps. He was on the east side of the podium, away from the direction of the crowd that was coming up to the Capitol. He held a sign: Freedom of Speech Equals Freedom to Live. He looked a t his watch and started moving towards the podium. His Chicago group intermingled with the Realism crowd also serpentined towards the podium with him.
    .....

Michael heard the shouts and looked over his shoulder.  He looked back to see the movement of the other group. The two groups were both shouting and moving towards each other. What was going on? These people did not seem to belong here. He was getting a little suspicious. He raised his arms and shouted for silence and attention. A rock came flying towards him and other rocks followed it. Soon there were bottles and rocks being thrown all around. He was losing control of the situation. He repeated his request for order.
Cindy Williamson removed the bottle of gasoline from Jeff McDaniel's backpack. She stuffed the rag into the bottle. Jeff held it as she lit it with her lighter. She smiled and handed him the Molotov cocktail. He threw it expertly towards the podium.
Michael saw the firebomb coming his way. He screamed and dove. The firebomb missed its target by five feet. There was a loud explosion and the tall Black Walnut tree by the podium caught fire. The large banner: "Realists for Peace and Reason" went up in flames.
Andy knew something was up as soon as he heard the commotion. Jacob was just walking up the east side of the Capitol. Andy shouted in Lisa's ears, "Something's up. All hell's breaking loose. Get Jacob away from here. Run! Now!"
Another firebomb landed in the middle of the crowd. There were horrified screams. The crowd went into a panic. The two groups were one and fights were breaking out all over. Some cops came up to the podium. There was gunfire in the air, the cops retreated. Michael ran away from the podium. He saw Lisa running towards Jacob. He joined the retreating group. 
Andy saw Menzel with his pro-Realism sign as he smashed it down the head of someone who looked familiar. He realized it was getting dangerous. He turned around and looked for Natalie or the purple color of her dress. He saw her and waved to her.
Natalie sensed it correctly. She knew this was prearranged. The two groups, one within the Realism group and the one from the church, had their moves well defined. She ran towards Andy to warn him. Andy turned and saw her, he waved towards her. She shouted, watching in horror as Menzel ran up to Andy and brought down the two by four on his head. She screamed and pushed and shoved her way to him.
Andy sensed something and turned. He saw the face of Menzel as a dark blur at the same time as the two by four landed on his head. Blood spurted from his head; he raised his hands and passed out. Menzel knew he had hit one of the prime targets. He touched the gun under his shoulder, looked around for a second and moved towards his next target. The cops started throwing teargas shells in the middle of the crowd causing more panic and flight. Some mounted policemen came galloping in the crowd, creating more disorder. The area was filling up with smoke, teargas, sirens and screams. 
Natalie pushed her way through the panic stricken crowd and finally reached Andy. She kneeled by Andy and put his bleeding head in her lap. "At least he is breathing and still alive," she sobbed to herself. She looked around helplessly. She shouted to someone to get her a tourniquet. Blood was all over her dress. She could barely hear the sounds of ambulances and fire trucks in the distance.
Menzel was smiling. Mission accomplished well. Time to fly. As he started to run towards his appointed spot on Lincoln street. He saw the woman in purple with Andy's head in her lap. He raised the sign up for the last time and shouted, "Your turn heathen." The two by four broke on top of her head splitting it open in a flash of red lightning. She screamed and fainted, falling forward, protecting Andy's head with her body. Menzel threw away the broken two by four and reached for his gun. A policeman on a horse came galloping towards him. He abandoned his last thought and ran.
    .....

"This was great," Menzel smiled as he got in the van with the rest of his six members and the driver took off. Within minutes they were high-fiving and embracing the rest of their Chicago group and some of the local supporters. A cold keg of beer was waiting along with hot food and congratulations.
"Any casualties, yet?" Cindy asked bishop Forrester.
"No, I believe, we are all accounted for. No serious injuries ... some minor bruises. That's all. You guys are perfect."
"Those idiots didn't know what hit them. They had no clue. It was like bolts of lightning hit them unexpectedly. We were great, man," Menzel kissed Cindy again and poured more beer for himself.
    .....

Sam Shepard was on the TV within an hour. He declared a state of emergency in the light of the riot and announced an indefinite dusk to dawn curfew in the metro area. "There has been a riot in the heart of the city ... right on the steps of the Capitol. Three men are dead and fourteen people have been hospitalized, two policemen among them.
"This morning the crowd from the Realism party attacked the peaceful Catholic Church supporters who were dispersing from their meeting. A fight started using bottles, rocks and  Molotov cocktails and guns. These people had no intention of a peaceful demonstration; they had come prepared to attack the other group.
"It is very disgusting. Our cities aren't safe for our citizens. In addition to the curfew, I am going to ban the gathering of more than five people in public places.
"I want to assure the citizens of Colorado, that we are trying to bring the situation under control and do not expect further violence. Once matters have been completely resolved, the curfew will be lifted."
    .....

Natalie was groggy from the medication. "What day is it? What happened? Where am I?"
The fourth floor nurse smiled, "Good morning, Miss Natalie Skinner. Take these two pills first."
Natalie felt too weak to protest and swallowed the large white pills. "What happened?"
"You were hit in the head in that riot. You were lucky Miss. People died in that riot. We stitched you up yesterday afternoon. You lost some blood."
Natalie tried to remember ... oh yes! The demonstration at the capitol and Andy ... and .... she slowly remembered everything ... she looked for a phone, "I need a phone."
"No, sorry. Can't have that. You must go back to rest. Can't talk to anyone or see anybody till the doc says so. You are weak and under shock. Just rest. Don't bother your mind with anything. Just relax and leave the world's worries out of your head."
    .....

Andy was lying on the bank of a deep blue lake surrounded by mountains, some of them covered with snow. The tall blue-green grass was moving hypnotically, there were no other sounds. The lake was almost still reflecting the mountains and the clouds nearly perfectly. Andy's head was lying in the lap of Natalie. She looked ravishing, her hair gently moving in the breeze, her dark brown eyes fixed on him. She bent and kissed him. He held on to her thick dark lips as long as he could. Finally, he had to come up for air. That shattered his dream.
He didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to hold on to that vision. His head started throbbing. Someone had hit him on the head ... there was trouble. I have to make sure Jacob is safe. He opened his eyes to see Lisa in the hospital room.
She put her arm over his, "Do you feel O.K.?"
He nodded his head.
"Don't try to get up. Your head is bandaged. Seventeen stitches. You are strong, Andy, you recovered fast. Do you need anything?"
He shook his head, "No. What happened? How is Jacob? How is everybody?"
"There was a big fight. I took Jacob away just like you told me. It was just in time too. You don't remember, do you?"
He shook his head.
"Three supporters ... our party members ...  died. Almost a dozen wounded. Your friend from the press ... Skinner was trying to help you and somebody hit her too."
"How is she?"
"She is in the same hospital, fourth floor. In intensive care. You were moved out of intensive care just this morning."
He tried to absorb everything. Tears came to his eyes. He asked for a drink of water. Lisa supported his body in her arm and put the plastic cup to his lips. He drank slowly. He thanked her and lied back down.
    .....

Three days later, Natalie was finally out of intensive care. Andy visited her. He held her face in his hands and kissed her, "You know, you saved my life. And that's what got you almost killed. This is not how I dreamed this happening. But I do owe you a lot."
"Andy, I saw everything. And, I know what I was trying to tell you before that guy hit you. It seemed all preplanned ... it was well choreographed ... that's what I felt while watching it. Like a play or a dance, it was well planned. Those guys knew what they were doing."
"Don't worry about it Natalie. We will take care of everything. We will figure out what happened and why. You just relax. I am here, if you need anything."
Natalie didn't know about Andy's dream. But his tenderness moved her. She smiled watching him, as he sat there for a long time, till she drifted into friendly sleep.
.....



Chapter 20 ... The Band
Archbishop Kennedy was thrown into a panic, "Get me Sam Shepard," he screamed at his secretary. "Why did this have to happen? Just when things were going great too!"
"Sam, why did you have to go and put a curfew on the city? Our plan is to finish these guys once and for all, not this piece meal stuff. What are you going to do with your curfew?"
"I had no choice. All that violence. I am having the attorney general figure out a way to outlaw them by using what happened."
"No! You don't do anything. Don't you understand. Our plan was supposed to go into motion next week. We can finish him. We didn't need this at this point. This little stuff  is not enough to harm him. We have bigger things in store for him."
"What do you have in mind? How do you intend to finish him?"
"I will let you know, when it's time for you to take action. Our teams were almost ready to head off to Denver. And the riot was manufactured by our people too. Didn't you know? If you try to dig deeper, you won't be able to pin it on them. You have to lay off  this investigation and allow the city to return back to normalcy. That's when our final plan will take place."
"What are you saying Archbishop?  Your people were involved in the riots. I don't understand?"
"I didn't want the Realism party to have a public show of order and unity and come across as peaceful ordinary citizens exercising their constitutional rights. I wanted that stopped and we did. But that was just a small first step. Now, the next thing you need to do, is to lift the curfew and we will start implementing our plan a few weeks later. We will execute it after Christmas rather than before. Damn, it would have been perfect before Christmas."
Sam put the phone down and gazed into space. He wondered what was really going on?  If he had any control left over his own state?  And if he could dare to do anything to slow down the Archbishop's plans?
    .....

The Colonel reported to Archbishop Kennedy.  Sylvia sat behind the desk with a worried look in her eyes. The Archbishop had been on the phone since morning talking to people in Denver and the Vatican. He had been getting angrier as the day progressed. When he asked her to get the Colonel to his office, she knew things would not improve. She smiled at the colonel, "Just a minute, I'll tell the Archbishop you are here."
Sam Kennedy shook his hand, "The stupid governor of Colorado has screwed our plans up. He put the damn city under curfew."
"Oh no! Do we have to cancel now? After all that preparation."
"Well it throws our plan out of schedule. The Vatican wanted it done before Christmas. Now it has to be delayed till after Christmas. Perhaps the first or second week of January. We have to let the city get back to normal before we hit it."
"Have you asked the governor about when he could lift the curfew? Maybe we can squeeze it in."
"No, we have to push it to January. The governor will have to wait a couple of days before he can really lift the curfew. He made such a big deal out of it. He can't back out that fast. I called him up and told him what he needs to do. I don't like this damn delay. How is the crew doing?"
"Well we were ready to move in two days. We can polish our plan and our preparation, but the crew is ready to go. We were moving full steam ahead, now we have to apply the brakes and slow down a little. I will revise our schedules."
    .....

A heavy winter storm covered Colorado. The white of the snow covered the ugly scars of the previous week. As the storm moved away and the sun broke through the clouds, the curfew was lifted.  The Broncos were poised for the Super Bowl, at least the fans were convinced of it. The city returned back to normal. The riot was talked about only when no other topic was available.
Natalie walked into the city editor's office, "Mark, I want you to put somebody on the story behind the riots. I saw things that make me believe the local Catholic Church was behind it. I saw ..."
"Natalie, how's your head, are you all better?"
Natalie paused, the nurse had been careful about not shaving off too much of her hair, yet there was a noticeable thinning of her hair from her right ear to the middle of her head. It had taken courage to come back to work, but any stare at her hair or a remark about her head made her self-conscious. She moved her hand over her hair patting it around the scar, "I am fine. What about putting someone to do some detective work on the story of the riot?"
"That's a dead story. We worked it the best way we could. I am not interested in digging up any dirt on the church. Do you know what day this is? Only ten days to Christmas ... are you crazy suggesting we follow an antichurch story. Forget it. Just relax and take it easy. You didn't have to come back so soon."
"But Mark, I came back to talk to you about what I saw. There is a conspiracy behind this. I think that the governor and the church are together behind it somehow. I know if we dig deep, we will find the truth. I can feel it."
"I will think about it. But definitely not now. Not until after Christmas anyway."
    .....

Andy was looking forward to his meeting with Natalie. He felt he was getting really old to think of it as a date but his heart was pounding faster just thinking about it. He had started wearing sports caps to hide the gap in his hair. The hair had been growing slowly. The healing had progressed both on his head and in his heart. Meeting her will do me good, he knew.
He kissed her lightly and sat down across from her. He couldn't help himself, "You look wonderful. How have things been?"
"You look pretty good too. You know the cap makes you look a little younger." She waited till the wine arrived. She spread the photographs on the table. "These are the copies of the photographs that I could obtain from my paper. Look at this one ... you notice that guy carrying the sign ... here use this magnifying glass ... do you recognize him at all?"
"He seems familiar ... I remember him vaguely ... is he one of our people?"
"He is the one who hit you on the head with the same sign that he is carrying in this picture. I saw it from a distance ... I was running towards you and I saw him approach you ... I screamed but you didn't hear me."
Andy stared at the picture of Menzel Williamson. He thought he would feel angry ... instead he felt coolness ... an empty feeling  ... a feeling that he couldn't name as anger.
"I saw him move from one end of the group near the podium ... towards this other group that had come from the church meeting but was headed over the grass and up the steps  ... towards the other group; as if to create some commotion between them. I felt as if they knew exactly what they were doing. It was together, at the same time ... choreographed ... that's what I felt." She pointed at another photograph and Andy looked at all the pictures, one by one, touching her fingers with his as the pictures were passed to him, absorbing her construction of events while drinking in the feel of touching her.
"What does it all mean? Why would the bastards want to destroy our rally? Why put the lives of people at risk? There could have been more deaths and injuries."
"I tried to talk my editor in following the story. He wouldn't do it. It's too close to Christmas and he is not ready to run an antichurch story at this time."
"They must be even more dangerous than I thought possible. Jacob may ultimately be proved right. These religious bastards. He compares them to the lowest criminals on this earth ... you know who the lowest criminal on this earth is?"
Natalie shook her head.
"A criminal who doesn't give value for the money. Even a hooker gives you value for your money, these religious institutions and their representatives don't. And the depth they sink to, is lower than prostitution."
    .....

Jacob was frozen deep in thought, "Nobody recognizes this guy? Nobody?"
Andy shook his head. The enlarged photograph showed Menzel carrying a sign and looking towards the other side of the podium, the side from which the other group had come.
"A plant from the bastards. What does it mean, what were they trying to do?"
Andy looked at Jacob, "I think they have become desperate. If they were behind the attempt on you .... and when that failed, they chose to disrupt the rally ... they may have planned to assassinate you again at that rally!"
"If that's correct, then this is not the last time they will try something. They must either want to finish me off or finish the organization ... or both." He smiled, "We must have scared them. Wow! There really is power in truth and logic. It's not what you and I say or have said ... it's the power of the truth behind what we have said ... the correctness of the logic and the simplicity of reality ... they couldn't have validated it any better. They must be scared of what we are about to accomplish. The possibility of the beginning of the end of religion as we know it. That must be what they feel. Our progress is hurting them more than I thought it was."
Andy felt things clicking. It was like a puzzle about to be solved. "But what do they plan to do next? What if they succeed the next time?"
"I feel good about the whole thing. Even if they kill me ... destroy our party ... the words, the thoughts, the idea of controlling your own life at your own terms is too powerful. No church or god can stop it."
"Yes but what about us .... what about you and me ... what about Michael or Lisa ... what about the people we love and care about? What happens when our right to live the way we want to is violated by these hooligans? What about the threat to our lives, to our style of living?"
"All we can do is face and deal with the realities of our lives. That too is required Andy. The consequences of our actions have to be faced by us ... whether we deserve them or not. The past has been rather smooth, but we weren't in it for the easy life, were we? The hard challenging part starts now."  Jacob's eyes were bright with brilliance. He was cherishing the situation that had scared Andy.
    .....

The Colonel smiled smugly, "We are as ready as you can get. We have the teams all ready, the plan finalized and fine tuned, the plastics, the firepower, the backup plan ... everything. We are ready Sam. As soon, as you think its O.K., we will move."
Archbishop Sam Kennedy smiled, "January fifth, three more days and you can leave. You would reach Denver by the eighth, ninth is for rest and final preparation, and finally tenth for the blastoff."
"I am glad that the wait is over. The tension that this delay was building up will now disappear. January fifth sounds wonderful." 
The caravan of seven vans and two cars left early morning. The Archbishop had stopped by, meeting all the forty-two people, wishing the Colonel the best. The Colonel was in the second car along with two group commanders. He turned to Steve Polansky,"Steve, You have to remember to call Jake precisely at eight fifteen and report the status. If all is well, just use the green phrase. If not, give all the details. Jake will relay everything to me or to Scott James. Remember, take care of the problems as they happen, but get the charges set and ready to go. Every thing must work as precisely as we planned."
"No sweat Colonel. My men and I will give you the best explosions of all, I guarantee. This can't be any harder than blowing up villages full of VC," he grinned.
"You are the best plastics man we have, Steve. I expect 100% success in Colorado Springs. And Jason, you have a shorter area but easier to hit the targets ... they are all so close. You must do the same as Steve, your reporting time is eight seven, since I expect you to be done first."
Jason Daniels was enjoying this routine. He knew this talk reinforced the plan, getting everyone on the same wavelength at the eleventh hour. The Colonel was doing to them what he expected them to do with their own groups, "I have everything memorized and expect to execute the plan like clockwork. Boulder will never be the same peaceful place ever again."
"That leaves the remaining three teams in Denver ... the south team will report first, followed by the north team. I intend to be with the center team, that will be the most crucial, hitting the biggest targets right in the heart of the city."
They sat for a while, reflecting. "I love to be back in action. This is a hell of a project we have got ourselves. I can't wait for the fun to begin. I feel twenty years younger. God, it's good to be out in the field. I feel so alive." he breathed deeply, stretching out his arms.
The others in the car shared his enthusiasm but not for the same reasons. Money and explosives ... that always brought out the best operatives. Jason liked the money. This would be a nice paycheck. He may not have to rob another bank or liquor store for a while. The last robbery had only netted him a measly forty seven hundred dollars. He hated the credit card system. All that extra cash that would have been his if only people did not use those damn credit cards.
Steve Polansky hadn't blown anything in five years. He wanted to feel the exhilaration of the immense power that he had wielded in Vietnam. The sense of danger. The courage it took and the chance to display his courage. The feeling of the finality of each step. The life and death stakes that one got to play with. He would have done it for much less money than the fifty thousand dollars he was going to make. He sat in the car, looking out the window, seeing bridges and buildings blowing up at the touch of his fingertips.
.....



Chapter 21 ... The Big Blow Up
January tenth arrived quietly. Nothing unusual. It was cold but not snowy. Denver like many other cities was recovering from the excesses of Christmas and the New Year. The Realism party had been laying low for the time being, recovering from the bad memories of the riot and awaiting the move of others.
The seven vans and two cars that had started together from Chicago had entered the city at different times. The three teams had different targets and different hotels that they were going to operate from. The Colonel had checked in at the Marriott Airport Inn with his second-in-command Scott James. He woke up early on the tenth. He lay in his bed staring at the ceiling and turning the plan over and over in his mind. The meeting the night before had gone as planned. Everyone seemed to be on the same plane. And the best part was the excitement that was building up. The old tension of waiting had been replaced by the welcome tension of action. They were ready to go. He felt good all over just thinking about it.
    .....

Steve Polansky and his crew of ten left the motel at six-fifteen. It was already dark. Steve looked up at the sky as he got into the blue Chevrolet Corsica that he had rented in the morning. The van pulled out of the motel first and Jack driving the Corsica for Steve swung the car behind the van, following it closely to the I-25 south freeway. He kept a small distance between himself and the van, keeping the van in his sight all the way to Colorado Springs.
"We should be there before seven thirty. Everyone here ready for action?" The other two occupants nodded their heads a little nervously.
7:25 ... The van exited off the highway and on to Fillmore Street.
7:30 ... The van turned south on Union and pulled into the First church of the Faithful. Two men got out of the van. The van got back on Union and headed south.
7:35 ... The van stopped in the parking lot of the Eternal Flame church on Constitution Avenue. Two more men got out. 
7:39 ... The Chevrolet Corsica turned off the highway and headed south on Hancock Avenue. Two men got out at the crossing of Hancock and Fountain Boulevard. They walked to the Church of the Nazarene as the car drove off. Jack drove to Academy Boulevard and turned north.
7:40 ... The van turned left on Circle Drive and stopped at the Colorado Episcopal church on Dale Street. The remaining two shut the engine and hurried towards the church, now almost completely engulfed by the night.
The Episcopal Church was the smallest church on the list and well suited for the team of Daniel and Max. Max went towards the right as Daniel headed left, the plastic charges were carefully placed. The two were at the front within four minutes. Daniel smiled as Max gave him the thumbs up sign and drove the van back towards Constitution Avenue.
Max picked up Joe, who was waiting for him. Joe gave him a high-five and they drove north on Union.
7:42 ... Jack parked the car in the parking lot of The Lion of Israel Synagogue. Steve and Jack got out hurriedly and headed for their targets. Steve glanced at his watch. Good, we are doing fine. He turned to the right wall of the building while swinging the pack off his back. The first spot was chosen matter-of-factly at about eight feet off the corner. He applied the pre-portioned plastic charge under the windowsill and moved towards the back.
7:50 ... The van turned east on Palmer Park and pulled into Our Lady of Mercy church. The two men looked at each other, nodded and headed towards the target.
7:52 ... Rabbi Schaffer shut the door to his modest home and stepped into the cold. I must be losing my memory. It is the third time this week that I have left my reading glasses in the office. "Oh! To be young and not feel this cold and tired during the winters," He whispered to the night. 
He walked the twenty yards to the side entrance. He spotted a faint movement to the left of him. He stopped and stared. There seemed to be a shadow crouching and digging at the bottom of the wall. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, "Who is there? Is there something wrong?" he walked towards Jack.
Jack was setting his last charge on this side of the building. Jack damned his ears for not hearing any footsteps.  His mind raced going over what he should do if he was discovered.  He stood up slowly and reached for his 9mm semi-automatic.
Steve was moving fast. He was at the back of the synagogue. Two more charges and it will be ready. Not too long from now, they can start blasting. He heard the voice of Rabbi Schaffer and froze.   ... The VC was everywhere. He threw down his pack and hugged the wall, creeping towards the sound. Jack was in danger. Steve damned the VC to hell. He pulled his forty-four out of his jacket and turned the corner.
The Rabbi noticed the backpack at the foot of the man who was  holding a gun in his hand. "My God! What's going on? What are you doing here?" He stopped and stared at Jack five feet away from him.
Jack's mouth was dry. Should he kill the bastard who had found him? What should he do? He tried to clear his throat. Words refused to come out of his mouth. His hand slowly moved up pointing the gun at the Rabbi's head.
Steve turned the corner and saw Jack facing the VC and leaped out of the shadows. "Hit the ground Jack," he shouted as he squeezed the trigger four times, two across the chest and two in the center of the head.
Rabbi Schaffer could not comprehend anything. The bullets hit him like a bulldozer. He went down in a heap, the pain overpowering the rest of his emotions. "Guns ... thieves ... what are they doing here ... what's happening..." He died wondering.
8:00 ... Max and Joe met at the front and lit up cigarettes. Their jobs were done but the worst thing was up ahead ... the waiting.
    .....

The Boulder crew started promptly at seven. The green Oldsmobile with Jason Daniels, Roxanne his second in command, J T and Buck as the driver, was the first to get on highway I-36 followed by the van with the crew of six.
7:32    ... The Oldsmobile exited on Baseline Road while the van headed straight up.   
7:38 ... Roxanne and J T got out at Gilpin and walked towards the church of the Holy Ghost.
7:40 ... The van headed down 28th Street in the town of Boulder and turned right on Valmont Street letting two men out in front of The church of the Holy Trinity. The van made a left and continued towards Edgewood Street.
7:44 ... Buck turned the Oldsmobile onto Valley View Road and turned left on Euclid Avenue. He parked in the lot. The Church of the Holy Mother was completely dark, the cloud cover hiding the two as they started placing the charges.   
7:45 ... The van stopped at 19th Street and let two more men out in front of the Blessed Sacrament of the Lord Church and headed towards the last target.
7:50 ... The van turned off Broadway and onto Marine Street. It stopped in front of the Boulder Annunciation Church. The two men got out quickly and started their rounds.
7:51    ... Jason hurried to the car and drove to Baseline Road and picked up Roxanne. He gave her the thumbs-up sign, "Everything's O.K. so far." They drove to Lincoln and turned right on Aurora Avenue. They were immediately engrossed in the task at hand in the Queen of Heaven Church.
    .....
      
The South crew with Michael Johnson in charge started their round at seven fifteen using one van and two cars.
7:20 ... Michael and Smiley parked their burgundy Oldsmobile at the corner of Arapahoe and Quebec.
7:25 ... The van pulled off the I-225 freeway and headed west on Mississippi. It stopped at the corner of Victor and let two men out. It headed back west on Mississippi.
7:27 ... The black Chevrolet turned off Bellview and headed north on Holly. It found its mark and slid silently into the parking lot of Our Mother of God Church.
7:30 ... The van turned right on Moline and parked in the parking lot of First Baptist Church.
7:31 ... Michael and Smiley working quickly finished laying the charges and connected and armed the firing device. They headed towards University and then to Columbine.  
7:37 ... The van pulled out of the First Baptist Church and headed towards Victor. The two men gave the thumbs up sign as they got in. The van headed towards chambers and the Church of Immaculate Conception.
7:40 ... The Chevrolet pulled off the I-25 highway and onto  Hampden Avenue. It turned left on Hudson Street and into the Seventh Day Adventist Church of Aurora.
7:42 ... Smiley stood up and lit a cigarette. He walked to the front and smiled as Michael walked up to him. "Everything all right?" he whispered.
"Yes, it's all set to go. Give me a cigarette."
7:50 ...  Their jobs finished, the crew of four got in the van quietly and huddled ... waiting for time to pass.
    .....

Denise had been in Colorado for many years now. Marrying Michael seemed so natural. And even though he did not complete his degree, she made him wait another year before she joined him in Denver. The feeling of accomplishment that she thought she would feel on graduating was not what she felt. She moved to be with Michael and gave up on pursuing her own carrier after the birth of her first son Jim.
The distance that Denver had created between her and her roots in Michigan was only mildly compensated by Colorado's well-hidden secret ... it's weather. She had been used to months of dull gray weather during winter, spring and summer. The lack of sunshine and the effect it had on her moods was replaced by the bright, sun filled days of Colorado. It could snow for hours and yet be warm enough to melt all the snow in two days, leaving the city green and dry. 
Michael's excessive involvement in the Realism party had made Denise look for something else to cut down on the boredom of her days. Jim was attending school and her days seemed empty. When her neighbor suggested she join the neighborhood 'Pencils for Purpose' charitable organization, she joined willingly. Her involvement was modest but gave her a chance to get out and socialize. She felt a sense of fulfillment through her involvement with the charity not aware of the impending doom.
January eleventh was the day of their monthly meeting and she agreed to help in the arrangements for the meeting. On the tenth, she and five others arrived at the site of their meeting at 6:45 ... Our Mother of God church.
Some other parishioners had just finished their meeting and were leaving. Soon the church was quiet as the six of them started working on arranging the meeting hall for their group.
Pete was laying the charges on the south side of the church when he saw the group of people through the window. He went around to the back and whispered, "There are a bunch of people in there, Art."
"Well, you know that doesn't mean anything. We have to do our job no matter what. Let me see."
The two of them went back to the window and looked in. Art motioned Pete to follow him to the back.
"Listen, these people may leave by the time the charges are set off. Maybe nobody will get hurt."    
"But there are women in there, Art. I don't like getting them killed because of what the Colonel wants. For a lousy ten thousand bucks."
"Hey, when was the last time you made ten thousand bucks for one night's job. Come on, let's get it over with. These people will probably leave in a few minutes and no one will get hurt."
Pete went back towards the meeting room and bent down to lay another charge.
.....

The work was almost done. Denise looked at her watch. It was barely past eight. She felt good at the pace of their work, hoping to be  out of there in a few minutes and back home. The large hall was cooling down and she wanted to be back in the comfort of her warm home.
One of the women opened her bag and started handing out homemade cookies and brownies.  Another started the coffee pot and the group sat down to celebrate a job well done.  One thing lead to another and a discussion about buying computers for the kids started.  Before she knew it, it was thirty minutes past eight.
Denise shook her head, "Listen, it's already eight thirty. I have had enough. We are going to discuss computers tomorrow, so why don't we all get ready to ..."
She never finished her sentence. The whole church trembled and was lifted off  its foundation. The lights went out and there were multiple explosions. The walls and ceilings started collapsing, showering them with concrete, glass and wood. In less than a minute the group was buried under a large pile of rubble and then the fire started.
Denise saw the wall shake and everything turned black. She heard the screams of others and started to get up from her chair. A large beam fell on her pinning her down. She screamed for Michael. The dust was slowly settling as she saw Michael running up to her. Michael the savior. He lifted the heavy beam off her without much effort and extended his hand. She saw Jim besides him and took Michael's hand. She patted Jim, "What are you doing here in this mess Jimmy?"
"We came to get you Mom." She saw his smiling blue eyes as her head exploded, killing her hallucinations with it.  
 .....

The Center crew had a different plan than the rest. The first group of four with the Colonel moved to the heart of the city. Broadway and 19th. The Holy Trinity Church stood beside the banks and office buildings. A landmark, a historical building, soon to be rubble. All four got out of the van and started laying the charges. The Colonel was counting the seconds and looking out for trouble.
7:35 ... "Two minutes flat. Beautiful." The Colonel's face was beaming as they headed towards Colfax and Emerson, pulling into the parking lot and started on the Sacred Heart Church.
7:39 ... Though not as fast as on the first target, the crew had finished in three minutes and were on their way towards the Church of Holy Christ on Colorado Boulevard.
7:48 ... The van stopped at 12th Avenue and the crew cautiously stepped out under the big front of the Church of Holy Christ.
7:58 ... The Colonel pushed the crew this time. The van arrived at Alameda and Garfield and all except the Colonel started work on the Christ in the Valley Church. The Colonel stayed in the van monitoring the phone and acting as a lookout, his forty-four ready in his jacket pocket. He counted the seconds, cherishing the Adrenalin kicking in.
7:30 ... The Chevrolet Corsica with Scott James turned off Speer on 11th Avenue and right on Delaware and the three started wiring the first of their three targets.
7:42 ... Scott James practically shoving the other two, raced back on Speer towards Broadway and First. The First Church of Broadway waited patiently for its destroyers.
7:57 ... The car turned left on Mississippi and was soon at the last target of the day. The Church of All Saints was hurriedly finished. Lucky for Scott, they were supposed to phone in their 'mission accomplished' code precisely at 8:12 from the last target.
    .....

7:32 ... The North crew that was traveling together split up as the van with Terry Stoker and four others pulled off Federal and turned left on 64th Ave. The van stopped just before Lowell Boulevard, two men got out with their gear and walked to the All Angels church.
7:37 ... The van pulled up to Saint John's Church at the corner of 80th Avenue and Sheridan. Terry Stoker jumped out first, his excitement pounding in his heart.
7:43 ... Terry Stoker lit two cigarettes and passed one to Jack as they headed back to pick up their friends. The four of them were back in the van and headed to Wadsworth and 94th Avenue.
7:52 ... The four quickly got out, the huge Church of the Latter Day Saints shining in its newness welcomed them.
8:00 ... Their hearts racing, Terry Stoker drove into the Lamb of Christ Church at the corner of 108th Avenue and Dover.
7:35 ... The white Thunderbird carrying the three men pulled off the I-25 freeway and turned right on 120th Avenue. It pulled into the Church of Christ just short of York Street.
7:43 ... Their target easily wired, the Thunderbird turned left on Washington and made a left on 104th Avenue, stopping at Lafayette for the Church of the Holy Trinity.
8:02 ... The Thunderbird was back on Washington headed south. It made a left on 88th Avenue and stopped just short of Hoyt Street at the final target of the Church of God.
    .....

8:07 ... Jason Daniel called in two minutes after finishing the last target, "Daniel here, Colonel. All six sides of the hexagonal are drawn. Everything set to go. No problems. Perfect."
"Good. See you soon," the Colonel gave the thumbs up sign to Scott. "The Boulder job has gone without a hitch. Hope the rest follows the Boulder pattern."  He crossed his fingers.
8:10 ... Terry Stoker called from 104th Avenue, "Stoker reporting, Colonel. All seven kids ready to play. Nothing but smooth sailing. No problems, no delays. Ready to rumble."
"See you at the playground, Terry. Good work, over." The Colonel high-fived Scott, "North group ... everything fine. Two more to go."
8:15 ... Steve Polansky called in, "Colonel, all eggs ready in the basket. Little problem at the Lion's cage. No casualties."
"Good work, Steve. See you soon." The Colonel turned to Scott, "They had a problem at the synagogue. But Polansky apparently took care of everything. We will find out later what happened. He did say 'no casualties', I wonder if anyone got hurt?"
"It was his target, Colonel. I am sure glad it happened at his target and not someone else's. Steve's a good man. He doesn't mess up."
8:18 ... Michael Johnson phoned in, "Colonel, all seven dwarfs accounted for."
The Colonel smiled, "Cinderella is ready to go to the ball. Mike, get out cleanly."
Scott shook hands with the Colonel, the van was filled slowly. It drove off, quietly disappearing into the night.
    .....

The governor was puzzled by the phone call. He took the phone, "Yes Archbishop. I am surprised by your call ...  so late ... but of course, I welcome any chance to ..."
"Listen carefully. Tonight is the final night for Jacob Craden's freedom. In about ten or fifteen minutes explosions will rip your state from Colorado Springs to Boulder. The hardest hit area will be Denver and the areas immediately surrounding it. You must immediately secure Jacob Craden, and arrest him soon after all the churches explode."
"Churches ... explosions ... I don't understand ... what's happening and why ... how do you know what's about to happen?"
"I told you Sam, that we were going to take care of Jacob Craden and his party. We have done our part. You will know of the destruction shortly. You have to do your part, now. Are you ready? Do you understand? I will be back in touch with you when the time is right."
Sam stared at the phone for a long time, not sure what he had heard or what was about to happen.
    .....

Phones across the city started ringing as the explosions rocked them. The powerful plastics and precisely timed automatic devices set off charges at almost twenty five targets at precisely 8:30. The rest of the targets were mostly manually triggered, and followed immediately after the automatics. The vans and cars moved quickly picking up their colleagues and disappearing in the blackness of the night.
Fire trucks and police cars were running all over the cities as the switchboards for 911 calls were jammed. The sounds of the sirens filled the night as the flames from the explosions lit up areas of the city.
The Colonel's van pulled into the Marriott parking lot. Scott and Colonel went up to his suite and called Bishop Johnson.
"I have been waiting for your call. I can hear sirens all around me. Is this all your doing?"
"Yes bishop. The plan was executed as drawn. I am waiting for all operators to call in with a final report, but I do not expect a final tally till morning. The initial reports were perfect, all the targets were readied according to the plan, so I am assuming that everything went right.  I will call you back with the final tally when I have it."
"Yes, I have had calls from many parishes. You have created quite a havoc! I did not expect such large-scale destruction, when Archbishop Kennedy called me earlier. I hope it's all worthwhile."
"I hope you understand. Our target was extreme and we had to do the extreme to achieve our goal. I hope you know this was cleared through the Vatican."
"Of course, I know. Archbishop Kennedy told me that he want us to help you over the Colorado border. Come visit me tomorrow afternoon, and we can discuss the details of your exit."
The Colonel smiled at Scott, "We are going to meet Bishop Johnson tomorrow afternoon. I hope we can get out of this place soon, now that our job is done."
The two sat drinking, listening to the sirens and periodically picking up the phone to get another batch of results from another group of their colleagues.
.....



Chapter 22 ... Jacob's Arrest
Governor Shepard was on the television, "There has been terrible destruction in our state. Thirty churches and a Synagogue have been bombed tonight ... from Colorado Springs to Denver to Boulder ... it's like a military operation targeting all places of worship. It looks like a demolition zone out there.
We have reports of twelve dead including a rabbi and three bishops. This is the most loathsome disregard of human lives and malicious destruction of public property I have ever seen.
Acting on information we have received, I have ordered the arrest of Jacob Craden and am considering outlawing the Realism party. I am not going to tolerate any nonsense. I am through being forgiving. We have been very tolerant of their attempts to disrupt the peace and tranquility of our society. But they have crossed the line and will not be allowed to exist as before. The peace and well being of the public is more important than the rights of an extremist organization like the Realism party."
    .....

Jacob Craden picked up the phone, "Yes?"
"Jacob, have you heard the news? Churches have been blown up around the city and the state ... and Jacob ... the governor has just gone on TV ... he has ordered your arrest."
"What Andy? Churches blown up ... my arrest? What the hell for ... oh, I see ... yes they could frame it on us. When did you hear it? What exactly was said?"
"Jacob, there are twelve people dead ... as these churches were blown up ... they were caught unawares ... and apparently a rabbi was shot."
"This is truly amazing, Andy. People killed ... churches blown up ... Who could have done this? And why would they think it was us ... what should I do? What can I do in such a situation?"
"I have called our lawyers and am sending them over. I will be on my way in a minute. I imagine the cops will be arriving there any second. Hold them there if you can. Wait for the attorneys to show up. Follow their advice ... please Jacob. I am trying to get hold of Michael. He seems to be out of town or something. Do you know anything about his whereabouts?"
"No, but let me know when you find him."
"Be careful Jacob. Follow the lawyer's advice. I'll see you shortly."
The doorbell rang followed by loud raps on the front door. Jacob moved towards the front door. He could make out the lights from the police cars as they flickered on and off changing the colors that sneaked through the curtains.
    .....

Tom Brokaw dubbed it "Satan's Night out in Colorado: Last night at precisely eight thirty p.m., thirty one places of worship were blown up in Denver and surrounding cities. Directly as the result of the bombings ... twelve people have been found dead. A rabbi in Colorado Springs was shot several times and a group of people including three bishops and eight others were found buried under the rubble of the churches of Our Mother of God church in Littleton and the church of Immaculate Conception in Aurora, Colorado.
Jacob Craden, the founder of a known anti-religious organization: The Realism Party; has been arrested. The entire nation has been shocked in disbelief. This kind of violence ... targeting religious institutions may be the new direction violence has taken in this country. There has been no comments from Jacob Craden on the bombings, so far."
    .....

The Vatican condemned the bombings, "We are saddened by the violent eruption in the Untied States of America. We mourn the three bishops and their parishioners who were so ruthlessly killed in two of the attacks. We also mourn the death of our brother Rabbi Schaffer.     
The destruction of holy places of worship is the work of the lowest form of humans; they deserve no mercy, no sympathy and should be punished by death. These people have been ruthless in their actions and deserve to be stoned to death in public places.
We will rebuild the churches and welcome the involvement of the public in rebuilding our churches, our society and our lives."
    .....

Cardinal Sarducchi was smiling, "Good work by you and your men Archbishop. I want to ... how you say it ... yes ... I want to congratulate you and the Colonel on the fine job you have done."
Archbishop Kennedy smiled, "Thank you, your holiness. You had helped us design the plan and it worked very well. We found the best people to do the job and the results show the level of professionalism. Now, we need to move on to the next stage of our plan. Making sure of the conviction of Jacob Craden in the court of law. We need an artist who can copy Jacob Craden's writing on a copy of the plan ... I remember you had suggested that we contact you when we were ready. Do you know who we can use?"
"But of course. There is a monastery in Wisconsin and they have an artist named Brother John. He is a great artist and has created wonderful pieces of paintings for us to use in the Vatican. He has such wonderful skill for writing too. He creates the most beautiful scrolls we have ever seen. He is the man you need. He is ... how you say it ... professional ... the best professional for this job."
"So, you think that he will he be able to copy someone's handwriting, well enough to pass experts?"
"Oh! Without any problems. He learned to paint by copying other paintings ... you can't tell the difference between the copy and the original. He is simply marvelous. Take my word for it, he is very good, one in a million. You can't find anyone half as good. You have my assurance."
"Which monastery is he in? Where in Wisconsin?"
"I will have one of our men look it up and call you. Yes, you must use him. He is the best. You will be amazed to see how good his work is."
    .....

The monastery was well secluded. The shiny limousine that stood on the dirt drive seemed out of place. The air exuded by the car seemed to defile the purity of the monastery. The Abbot hurried out and escorted the Archbishop to his private office.
"I am so pleased, you chose to visit us. The message from the Vatican was very flattering. Brother John is our expert artist and calligrapher. We have sold his original paintings and reproductions of the masters all over the world. His writing is so beautiful. His calligraphy of the psalms from the bible that we sell in the local markets is most popular."
"Abbot Samuel, I am truly impressed by all the great things I have heard about Brother John. Cardinal Sarducchi insisted that we use brother John, as there is no other person as capable as him. And we do need the best for the task."
"Oh! Absolutely. I have talked to him very briefly about your visit. The cardinal seemed to think that you could use his help in creating some very important documents. I am honored that his services can be used for the services of the church. I will bring him shortly."
"Could we have complete privacy? Just me and Brother John?"
Archbishop Sam Kennedy sat across the desk from brother John, "We need your help. This is for the church and the possible future of our religion. You could ensure the future of Catholicism by creating these documents for us. These other pages are samples of the writing of this man that we want you to copy."
Brother John was clad in his dark brown robe, loosely tied around his waist. His gray hair and beard matched his peaceful gray eyes. He looked at the oversized sheets of paper with roughly drawn maps of Colorado Springs, Boulder, and Denver. He looked closely at the handwriting samples that the archbishop had brought. He kept his head down as he spoke, "Your holiness I have no problem in recreating these maps, what I am uncomfortable with is the copying of the writing of this man onto the maps. It appears sinister and not a worthy task for us or you." He pointed at the pages of Jacob Craden's handwriting.
"This is the most important work you will do in your life, Brother John. This man is guilty of the most horrible crimes. He has blown up churches and murdered three bishops ... and also perhaps the Archbishop John Anderson of Colorado. Innocent people have been killed by this man, including women and children. There is an extensive amount of evidence against him ... but your help will secure the verdict in his trial."
Brother John shifted uncomfortably. He stared at the maps and the papers. He didn't look up, "We have no news of the outside world. I prefer not to be told of the events outside our monastery. Even the smallest news of the violence outside our monastery poisons our tranquility. I wish you hadn't told me that." He stared at the floor for a long minute, and whispered, "How soon would you like this done?"
Archbishop Kennedy smiled in relief, "Take your time brother. I know you are the best artist and writer in the whole country. I want you to do the absolute best job on this. Don't feel any pressure to finish this job, the quality of the job must be impeccable. If we allowed you all the time needed for the perfect job, how long do you think it will take?"
"I could have it done in two weeks or less, there isn't that much work involved. I just have to be very careful as I prepare the documents to not lose the rhythm of the originals."
"Two weeks! That would be perfect. And do remember the special message on the map of Denver."
"Yes your holiness." He stared at the floor of the abbot's office for a long time; completely disbelieving what had taken place.
    .....

The governor's eyes were bright with fire, "The legislature met for this extra ordinary session today. We have voted to outlaw the Realism party and the overwhelming majority voted with me. As of midnight today, the Realism party is outlawed. All of its assets will be seized and anyone associating with the organization will be subject to prosecution. This is the first step towards securing the peace of our society."
The press, though expecting such an announcement, was stunned. The reporter from Channel Four fired the first question, "What about the freedom of speech and freedom to associate without coercion? Have you considered that?"
"Well, as you are aware, Jacob Craden has been involved in repeated attacks against God and religion and his ultimate act ... the destruction of churches and killing of bishops and Rabbis proves beyond any doubt that this man is extremely dangerous. This man is a threat to the welfare of our society. This man and his organization do not have the best interest of the society in their hearts. When the welfare of the citizens of the state is being threatened, the rights of such an individual should and will be curtailed."
"Has he been charged with anything yet?"
"The A.G. will answer that," the governor helped Helen Taggart to the microphone.
"We intend to charge Jacob Craden with several criminal charges including four counts of first degree murder in the deaths of a rabbi and three bishops."
"What evidence do you have connecting him with any of these murders?"
"We have information tying him directly with the planning and execution of the bombings of January tenth. It's up to the courts to decide the validity of the evidence. I will not discuss it here."
    ..... 

Helen's face was red with rage, "You promised to deliver the evidence governor. I have nothing. We confiscated boxes of papers and documents ... there is nothing in there. We have spent hours going through all of those. Nothing. I don't doubt that the Vatican will help us convict him, but I need real evidence. And I need it now."
Sam Shepard smiled at her, "Helen, I have never let you down, have I? I have received the first batch of evidence. Copies of invoices and purchase orders from an explosives supplier in San Diego. These are the purchase orders from the Realism party and invoices for explosives shipped to their address. You will take these and discover them in the papers confiscated from the Realism offices. Understand?"
"Yes Governor. That is good ... I would of course need much more. This helps, I am relieved that there is at least some evidence we can use."
"There is more coming. The actual plans of the bombings with Jacob Craden's handwriting on them will be delivered to you within two weeks. The Archbishop of New York called me and assured me that the plans will be made available soon."
Helen's face softened, "I never really doubted you. But there has been tremendous pressure put on me and my office and so far we have had no real evidence. This will make my job easier. You and I both know how badly we want to put him out of commission. This may seal his fate. You can rest assured, with the right kind of evidence, I will crucify him."
"It's not just for us, Helen; it's for all the decent citizens of the state of Colorado. All of us want to preserve our lifestyle and will not accept any impediment in our worship of God almighty. Jacob Craden is evil and we will be getting rid of him soon."
    .....

Michael arrived home late. He was surprised to see that Denise's Camaro was not in the garage. He wondered if she had perhaps gone over to the Realism headquarters. All that news about the churches being blown up had him concerned. Then it hit him. Didn't she say, she was going to one of the churches tonight for some kind of meeting.
He ran into the home. The phone was flashing. He hit the play button. It was the babysitter. She was still waiting for some one to pick Jim up. He was supposed to leave by 9'O Clock, it was past nine thirty.
He found the babysitter's number and called her up. "Denise isn't back yet. I will come and get Jim. But before I do that, do you know which church Denise was going to ... for her meeting?"
"Oh, my God no. I don't really know, but last month they had their meeting at the Mother of God church ... Our Mother of God church, on Holly just off Bellview. You don't suppose ..."
"I don't know. I will drive up there and see if I can find anything. I will be around to pick Jim up soon."
He hung up the phone. A pain started to build up on the right side of his chest. He felt cornered. He dialed 911, but could not get through. "Shit," he screamed and got back in his Bottle-Green Thunderbird and sped towards Holly.
He saw the flashing lights of the police cars and fire trucks as he neared the church. "My God," he screamed. There was nothing left. The church that occupied about a third of the block was reduced to rubble. Smoke was still coming out of the piles of twisted concrete, glass and bricks. He approached one of the firemen. "What happened to the people in there?"
"We have removed two bodies and are looking for the rest. Are you looking for someone?"
"My wife. I think, she may have been here. She is not back home yet." And then he saw the Black Camaro and her license plate.
"She is in there." He screamed and ran towards the smoldering rubble. Two men held him back as a rage of helplessness built up inside him.
.....

Andy and Scott Thomas walked into the plush office of Stan Simpson. "We want to know exactly where things stand at this point? What has happened and what has not?" Andy asked.
"Jacob has yet to be charged with anything yet. However, as you are aware the A.G. intends to charge him with murder and perhaps destruction of property ... they could go so far as to charge him with crimes against the state. Depends on what she thinks she should go for."
Scott shook his head, "What evidence do they have ... how can they do this?"
"The way I understand it, they will try to prove that Jacob ordered the bombing of the churches and is therefore directly responsible for the deaths of the people that died."
Andy stood up, "That's outrageous. Jacob or the Realism party had nothing to do with the bombings. Why have they not arrested the people who really did all this, instead of pinning it on him? Don't you think Scott or I would have knowledge of such a plan, if the Realism party were involved in such a thing? Do you think we will let Michael's wife die, if we had any idea about this? Denise, his wife, was caught in one of the churches and did not survive, no one survived."
"We are not dealing with truth here, Andy. The justice system does not find the truth; it only finds guilt or absence of guilt. It does not find anyone innocent ... it just finds them not guilty of whatever charges that are levied against them. Do not fool yourself into some sense of "truth will always triumph" ... there is no such thing."
Scott as always, was the calmest, "So, what evidence do they have of Jacob's or the Realism party's involvement?"
"They will disclose their evidence to us during discovery. They have to charge him first ... I expect they will do so in the next few days and then we will have a chance to examine the evidence. Till then, all we can do is wait. The judge refuses to let him be bailed. I expected that. They are serious about what they want to do to him."
    .....

Andy held Natalie's hands in his and looked in her eyes, "Just when you think life is so good, it turns to shit. I thought this is it ... I have found what I want ... life is good ... Natalie likes me ... we are good together ... I love her ... life is great ... and out of nowhere  ... with the collapsing churches, my life has been blown up."
Natalie touched his hair, lightly stroking the scar on his head, "I really like you Andy ... what has happened to us?"
" It's my life that has been destroyed. Jacob arrested ... everything is in chaos ... I will cut off my head to secure Jacob's freedom, if only I could ... I can't believe what is happening. Why did this have to happen?"
"Andy, I will always love you. We don't have to stop now. I will be with you all the way ... no matter what."
"No, this is war. There are no rules anymore. I don't know what I have to do ... but I will do it. I can't expose you to any more danger." He laughed, "I owe you for saving my life already. I can't risk anything happening to you."
"Are you saying goodbye, Andy?" Her voice was breaking.
"It has to be ... It's killing me to say this, but this is the last time. I will miss you."
They kissed. Their eyes moist, the two departed.
.....



Chapter 23 ... The Trial
Jacob looked relaxed in his prison garb. He wore the same blue tee shirt and gray pants that all the other prisoners wore. His natural style, the way he walked and talked, the way he stood or sat, set him apart from the other prisoners, he gave the impression of a free man, even freer than his lawyers. He met with the lawyers in the meeting room for the pretrial discussions. Stan Simpson and Stacy Morgan laid it out for him.
Stan began, "Jacob, things do not look very good. They have some very damaging evidence. To begin with, they have purchase orders from the Realism party, and invoices for explosives bought from an explosives supplier in San Diego ... what do you know about these?" Stacy opened her briefcase and handed him the copies of the purchase orders and invoices.
Jacob's eyes were wide with surprise, "They look very authentic, but who in the party will order explosives and what will they do with them? I don't believe anyone would have actually ordered these. Could these not be fabricated to implicate the Realism party?"
"That's very possible ... we found no bank transactions backing payments for these ... however that may not by itself disprove their authenticity."
"What does Andy know about it, have you talked to him and Michael?"
"Neither of them have any idea where these came from. They were both as surprised as you are." Stan reached for the copies of the plans and handed them to Jacob. He studied his face intently.
"Look at these carefully, tell me whatever you can about these. These are copies of maps that have all the targets from the night of January tenth marked. It has names of people in seven groups and their group leaders and dates and explosive placements ..."
Jacob gasped, "What the hell?"
"What is it?"
"Someone has copied my handwriting on these plans, the bastards. They have copied my handwriting all over these. They are trying to get me and my party by whatever means they can." He paused ,"This is interesting. Sinister but interesting."
Stan and Stacy looked at each other, "Is there anyway we can throw doubts on the authenticity of these?"
"It's a very good copy. But, can they convict me with such fabricated evidence? Don't they need actual physical evidence ... witnesses, trail of connections between the people who blew up the churches and me or the party? They can't build their case on just these pieces of papers, can they?"
"We will try our best to throw doubts on the authenticity of these and other pieces of evidence, however if the jury buys their story that you designed the plan for the bombings, and approved the purchase of the explosives directly or indirectly, they can pin the murders on you. I have seen people convicted with less evidence."
"Don't they need real evidence for conviction? This doesn't seem enough material evidence to me. Can they convict an innocent man for murder ... based on so little?"
"Oh yes, there will be more evidence. But your own words and actions in the past will be used against you. You have to be prepared for the worst. And Jacob, the A.G. is not talking any deals, she is convinced she has an airtight open and shut case ... that's what bothers me the most. I wonder, if they can create a pattern of violence around the Realism party and indirectly hold you responsible. Who would have all the details of your movements and the party's official gatherings?"
"That would be Andy Imberg, and you should talk to Michael Simons about this too. Have you talked to Michael at all? Do you know that his wife was killed in one of these bombings? Would a close-knit party like ours do something to harm one of our top people? This is all so strange and unthinkable."
    .....

John Markovich, the assistant attorney general, handled the opening statement. He walked slowly up to the jury box, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury ... the state will prove that Jacob Craden and his party engaged in undermining the very foundation of our society ... the Realism party and it's founder, Jacob Craden, have consistently attacked the traditions that secure the peace of our society ... and if that was not enough, Jacob Craden planned a massive attack against the thirty one temples of worship. Catholic, Baptist, Jewish, Mormon ... every religion in our community. His plan and its almost perfect execution spared no one.
"The mass destruction of property is nothing compared to the destruction of our way of life. And if that was not enough three bishops and a rabbi ... the very pillars of our society were ruthlessly murdered. The killing of these and other innocent citizens caught in the bombings will be directly linked to the bombings. And ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we will prove beyond a shadow of doubt that Jacob Craden planned and ordered the bombings himself.
Do not be fooled by the demeanor of the defendant. He is as cold-blooded, as calculating, as ruthless, and as power mad as they come. He is no thinking, rational intellectual. He is a single minded, deceitful destroyer."
    .....
    
On the third day, the attorney general Helen Taggert dropped the bomb. She had examined a handwriting expert who authenticated the handwriting on the plans as that of Jacob Craden. She had also established that the thirty-one targets on the maps were the actual sites of bombings by using six different sheriffs from six different counties. "I would like to call Jacob Craden to the stand."
Jacob was sworn in. He was very alert and even a little amused by the trap that was being sprung on him. He had agreed, in fact demanded to be put on the stand. His lawyers needed him on the stand and could not keep him off it.
"Mr. Craden, I will like you to examine exhibits 17A, B and C. Do you recognize these?"
Jacob studied the exhibits, "These are maps of cities in Colorado with several areas marked."
"Very well, we have already established that these are the actual thirty one targets that were bombed on the night of January tenth. Do you remember drawing these maps?"
"I did not draw these maps."
"Do you recognize your handwriting on these maps?"
"I did not create these documents, but someone has copied my handwriting on these. It's a very good job, but it's not mine. Someone is trying to implicate me and the Realism party by fabricating these documents."
"Please refer to exhibit 17C, do you recall those words on the upper right corner?"
"Yes ... they are from a poem I wrote in college."
"What was the name of the poem?"
"Objection your honor," Stan Simpson stood up, "Permission to approach the bench."
Helen Taggert and Stan approached the bench, "Your honor, the name of the poem is irrelevant. We have already presented our experts who have cast doubts on the authenticity of these documents and the handwriting on them. This line of questioning does not accomplish anything."
"Let me make it clear, your honor, even the name of the poem and the symbolism behind it are linked to the bombing. It's not my interpretation that I want to use, it's Jacob Craden's interpretation that I want to bring out. It's the deep rooted violence in his words and the depth of the violent ideas inherent in his words that I want to establish."
"Objection overruled. Mr. Craden, answer the question."
"The name of the poem is 'Dead fish'."
"Dead fish? Could you explain to us what that means?
"Fish is the symbol of Christianity, dead fish would symbolize the end of Christianity."
A gasp went through the court, the jury shifted uneasily.
"Would you read the lines of the poem that have been written on the plan for us?"
"Objection, your honor."
"Overruled."
Jacob solemnly read the lines
"Like a holy knife that's unsheathed,
I am poised.
Beware those who are not gods yet;
I have crossed the threshold
before you could know it.
And those who understand
Let the temples be lit."         
"Did you write that poem?"
"Yes I did."
"Does "let the temples be lit" mean set the temples on fire? Or does it have some other meaning behind it?"
"Objection your honor."
"I will rephrase the question. What does 'let the temples be lit' mean? What is your interpretation of it?"
"It could be taken to mean set the temples on fire; it could also mean light the temples of your mind to begin the ultimate worship ... the worship of yourself. Depending on the direction of thought and images that the poem creates in your mind, you could interpret it either way."
    .....

On the tenth day the closing arguments were presented. Helen Taggert wore a plain gray suit, she knew that would help add power to her words, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We have heard all the arguments, we have seen all the evidence, we have examined everything from all points of views ... and we have reached an end. But this is the start for us ... you have to start weighing the pros and cons and come up with a verdict. Guilty or not guilty. You could set this man free or take his life.
"As we have gone through the evidence, it's clear that one person and his actions are on trial ... the deeds of Jacob Craden ... the views of Jacob Craden ... the ideas of Jacob Craden ... the words of Jacob Craden ... yes, indeed ... Jacob Craden is a powerful man; not because he has mastered some secret martial art, but because he has mastered the use of words. He is a master at manipulating words and manipulating people by the use of his words.
"From the beginning, even as a child, his words have been directed against one single aspect of our lives ... religion. He is violently opposed to any form of religion and makes no bones about it. He has given dozens of speeches and written hundreds of articles attacking God and religion, but in doing so, he was really attacking the very fabric of our society, the very thread that keeps our society coherent, the very thin strand that keeps our society decent and whole, the very essence of the unity of our society.
"He has an ego the size of Alaska. You heard him read his poem ... the words he wrote on the plans to bomb our churches. He thinks he is God or perhaps he thinks he is better than God  ... and those of us who don't understand or bow down to him, have no right to live. He demands that we worship him and blow up the churches ... what sickness ... what perversion ... this man while reaping the fruits of our society is a cancer that's feeding on the very heart of our society.
"As we have shown, this man created a monster and named it Realism. He has actively sought the demise of the Catholic religion. In his mind, he devised a most sinister plan ... he put it on paper and he actively conducted the execution of the plan. He kept it well hidden, but not hidden from the eyes of God. I believe it was the hand of God that helped us find the evidence. Jacob Craden's arms are ultimately too short to fight with God.
His handwriting is on the most damaging evidence that we have presented. The guilt of this man has been proven without a shadow of doubt. Keep that in mind, we have presented our case and proven our case. No doubts exist about the guilt of Jacob Craden.
"What we need from you, ladies and gentlemen, is not a confirmation of his guilt ... that's obvious ... we need to make sure such a thing never happens again and we need an example for people who may harbor such sinister ideas in their mind. We need an end to such satanic actions. A cancer like this, must be eradicated ... there is no cure except radical surgery ... he must be silenced forever."
    .....

Stan Simpson walked to the jury box and began slowly, "My esteemed colleague has just summarized the best case she could present. She has said that she has proven without a shadow of doubt that my client Jacob Craden is guilty of the most horrendous crimes against society. Don't be fooled by those words, she means every one of them. That is her job.
"I too have examined the evidence, and presented a clear picture of what happened. Jacob Craden is a great thinker ... he is a great writer ... and yes he is a great speaker too. And yes, Jacob Craden is against religion based on his sense of life, reality and personal beliefs. His opposition to religion is absolute and is absolutely intellectual. But please remember, there are millions of people like him scattered throughout our society. He is not alone in his beliefs.
"Jacob Craden was shot at, while on his way to a meeting at which he was scheduled to speak. He has been subjected to various violent attacks all his life, yet it's a known fact that he has always opposed violence in all forms. Jacob Craden abhors violence as much as he abhors religion.
"The flimsy evidence that has been presented by the defense is fake. It has been manufactured. There has been no confirmation of any of the documents that the prosecution has presented. The whole case is based on the assassination of the character of Jacob Craden. The prosecution wants to convict Jacob Craden based on preconceived notions of decency and civilization. The prosecution has only produced proof of Jacob Craden's philosophy of life, which is opposed to religion. The prosecution has failed to produce any evidence linking him directly or indirectly to the attacks on the night of January tenth.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury ... Jacob Craden is being tried for events that took place on the night of January tenth. What happened on the night of January tenth? Churches were blown up and people were killed as a result of the bombings. We all detest that. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, even Jacob Craden detests that. The prosecution has not proven who planned or executed the attacks ... the prosecution has not proven who was involved in those attacks, remember the prosecution agreed it was the work of dozens of professionals working almost flawlessly, yet the prosecution has not produced a single one of the culprits. I want you to ask, "Where are any of the people that executed this plan." The attorney general has known the names of the people on that plan, why has she not produced a single one in this court? Why has she not used the resources of our state to find the real culprits? Why has she focused on an innocent Jacob Craden?       "The entire case of the prosecution is absolutely indirect ... it is so indirect that the prosecution can not prove a single fact involved in the events of the night of January tenth. The only thing the prosecution has done is to use the words and ideas of Jacob Craden and convict him for his ideas.
"Well, I have news for you, this country is built by men of ideas, it survives because of men of ideas ... above all the very meaning of democracy involves the freedom to disagree with established ideas. To demand a society without dissent is to turn a democracy into dictatorship. Just because we do not agree with the ideas of a man, does not mean he is guilty of murder.
"Jacob Craden has no link to the events of January tenth, yet he is an easy target ... a political target ... a target that can be blamed for any violent act against any religious institution.
"Examine the evidence carefully. Do not let the blood of an innocent man be on your hands. Release Jacob Craden. His only guilt is that of speaking his mind to free people intellectually. He has committed no crime. He is as innocent as a newborn baby. He is the most guiltless, innocent man I have ever known in my life."
.....



Chapter 24 ... The Verdict
Judge William Rhinehart delivered his instructions to the jury and sent them away. Andy patted Jacob on his arm as he was taken away to wait for the verdict. Stan Simpson had an exhausted look about him, "Now it's in their hands. I hope they know what they are doing."
Andy patted him on the back, "You did an excellent job, I think.  You separated the issue of the crime from the issue of the man. Jacob has been well represented. What do you believe, the jury will do?"
"I hope they will come back and set him free. But we have so many unknowns. We don't know who did it. We don't have any one in custody that took part in the bombings. What we know is that there are some people out there who consider Jacob a threat. The Catholic Church is the first one for sure. The governor of course and perhaps one of them or another fanatic group has helped fabricate some of the evidence against him. My gut feeling is that there is a powerful organized force behind all this."
"That has to be, of course. What do you think, will they crucify Jacob Craden for being Jacob Craden; regardless of his innocence, regardless of any proof of his involvement?"
"I don't know how the jury will react. I am prepared for the appeal of their decision in any case ... the evidence was insufficient in my opinion ... and not really authentic."
    .....

Helen Taggert welcomed the limelight, "I am sure the jury will do its duty and find Jacob Craden guilty."
"If he is found guilty, how certain are you of getting the death penalty?"
"I really believe that the extreme nature of the crime ... the bombings and the killing of religious leader of our society will be considered sufficiently aggravating. I would make my case in the post conviction hearing."
She retreated back to her office. Yes, this is great. I know he will be found guilty. The next step is to get the death penalty. I know this case will be the jewel in my crown. And, this is the ultimate case of my career ... not just from my head but also from my heart.
    .....

The jury quickly chose Rachel Wright to be the foreman. She was a natural leader, tough and matter of fact in her approach to life and her role as a juror.
"Let's take the charges one by one ... or if you agree, we can lump them all together. In my mind Jacob Craden's guilt or innocence is the same in all the charges of murder. How many are convinced that Jacob Craden is guilty of all the murders ... please raise your hand ... one, two three, four, five, six, seven ... and counting me it makes eight."
Russ Machon raised his hand, "Let's also find out if anyone thinks that he is absolutely innocent or not ... if we all feel he is guilty to some extent, we can consider the case in that light ... what do you think?"
Rachel smiled, "O.K., how many think that he is absolutely not guilty ... raise your hand ... none?"
Terry Jawoski spoke up in his timid voice, "I am not sure ... if we are not convicting him for his speeches and beliefs alone ... rather than associating his part in the crime ... I think, he may be innocent ... to some extent ... that is, there is some doubt of the authenticity of those documents ... no?"
The deliberations began, they all knew which direction they needed to go to reach a verdict.
    .....

Brother John woke up with a sweat. What was I dreaming? He tried to remember the strange dream he just had ... a group of monks that were trying to help another monk find a man ... brother Sean ... yes brother Sean was trying to find someone desperately ... and he wanted to punish this man ... he was very angry at this man ... he probably wanted to kill him, for some unknown reason ... and brother John along with six or seven more had joined him "to help him in his search" ... all the way to Italy! ... he had just spotted someone's shadow dart away from the street and towards the house at the end of the street ... "There he is," brother John said loudly ... "He just went into that home ... yes, second from the end ... the one with the green door" ... the group hurried towards the home, like a mob of angry dogs running after a cornered rabbit.
"Why am I dreaming this? Help me lord ... return my peace to me." he started praying. He dozed off momentarily and found himself in front of the house. They knocked on the door but did not wait for a response. The door was torn off its hinges and brother John was face to face with the man they had been chasing ... his face was chiseled like a Greek statue ... his intense brown eyes stared into his ... this man was guiltless and fearless ... his cold stare burnt deep into him, he rubbed his eyes to avoid the intensity of the man's stare and woke up.
Brother John knew this was a crisis of immense proportions. The dream was foretelling some bizarre future, a future event or events for which he was responsible. He left his room and went to the small chapel that was lit by two candles at this time of night. He knelt down and started to pray.
His mind kept wandering to the events of the last few weeks. He had agreed to forge documents to convict another human being. Was he allowed to judge others? He had come to the monastery to get rid of the mindset that judges others. He had come here to escape that outer world that eats one up like a cancer ... the rat race that catches one up and forces one to run in a maze ... How could he agree to do such a sinister thing. And yet, he had agreed to do this. He was too weak ... He was easily talked into doing this  ... it wasn't the archbishop that talked him into it, it was his own lack of strength, lack of spirituality, lack of faith, lack of conviction. He had no real strength. He was still as weak as he was the day he came to the monastery. "Forgive me lord. Give me peace. Give me strength." He wept sobbing silently. Soon he was exhausted and asleep.
    .....

In the end the argument that turned Terry Jawoski's vote to guilty was Rachel's statement, "You know I don't trust that face. He appears to have these airs about him ... as if he is superior to all of us. He portrays a coolness that is not human ... as if we were a lower life form. Even his answers have been given in a way as if he didn't care about anyone or anything. And, it's obvious even now he hates God and religion. The nerve of the man. He is the same flesh and blood as the rest of us. He is no better than us. I don't believe so."
The jury filed back to the court. The foreman handed the verdict to the court bailiff. The judge looked at it and handed it back, "Will the defendant please rise?"
Jacob Craden stood up. Stan Simpson and Stacy Morgan stood next to him. 
"Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty...." like shots out of a semi-automatic gun, Jacob Craden had been found guilty of all counts. Rachel read the verdict, periodically lifting her eyes to look at the judge, the public and once Jacob. Jacob's eyes burnt her. "The look" that she hated, went through her like an unstoppable red-hot volcanic river. She lost her control and her voice shook momentarily.
Jacob embraced Andy and shook Stan's hands, "Well, this could be it."
"We have to prepare for the next step. It's not over yet. I will see you early tomorrow," Stan patted him on the arm as he was led away.
Lisa ran up to him, her eyes moist, "No Jacob. No. I can't believe this. This can't be happening."
Andy held her arm and put her head on his shoulder as her body shuddered uncontrollably.
Michael had tears in his eyes as he embraced Jacob. Jacob was slowly led out, surrounded by his well-wishers patting him on the shoulders or occasionally giving him a hug on his way out of their lives.
    .....

Brother John awoke to the sound of prayer bells and sunlight. He got up from the hard wooden bench in the chapel and hurried to his room.
"You look tired brother John," said Sean as they ate their morning meal - left over bread, cheese, preserved fruit and warm milk.
"I am being punished for being weak; weak and evil. I can't sleep without having terrible dreams. It's too much. I need help brother Sean. I am having doubts about my faith and my convictions."
"Perhaps we should take a walk and talk about what's bothering you. You know that talking to someone willing to listen to your troubled thoughts can start the healing process. Would you like to take a walk after we eat?"
"Yes, thanks brother Sean."
The two friends stepped out of the monastery and walked around and to the back. They had taken this walk many times, mostly each in his own thoughts, occasionally making a comment or two but mostly in silence. Today it was very different. They started walking on the well-traveled path through the vegetable farm that the monastery maintained.
"Brother Sean, I am having strange dreams in which I am helping someone chase after a man ... in Italy ... I don't know why but I believe it must be because of something that I did recently."
"That's strange, what happened ... what did you do?"
"You remember when the archbishop from New York visited us last year?"
"Of course, I do. I know he talked to you for a while. I assumed he gave you a special assignment for one of those huge paintings that you are always doing ... didn't he?"
They walked silently for a while. Brother John stopped and faced brother Sean, "I have to speak the truth. I accepted an assignment to create some papers ... maps. And I agreed to copy a man's handwriting on them. I have been troubled ever since then."
"What man? What for?"
"I was told this man had murdered bishops and blown up churches ... This man was evil and ..."
"Jacob Craden..."
"I don't understand. Brother Sean, you know the man I am talking about? I hoped ... no I told myself this man did not exist ... just to hold on to whatever little faith I have left."
"I heard about the verdict yesterday. As I was going around the farmers market selling the vegetables and buying flour and sugar, everyone was talking about this man that had been found guilty of murder in Colorado ..."
"Oh God! No."
"What's wrong Brother John? ... This man was guilty from what I heard ... they had proof in his own handwriting... oh! ... what the ..."
"Forgive me lord. I didn't mean to ... I didn't ... I was ... he told me ... I was told that ... but I didn't want ... forgive me lord ... I have caused ... I have ... I ..."
Brother Sean stared at Brother John's face. It had turned white. He was shaking uncontrollably and muttering incoherently. He put his arm around him and gently brought him back to the monastery.
    .....

When he gained control of his senses, it was dark. The half moon was barely shedding light outside the monastery. Brother John was calm. His mind was made up. He sighed with relief and walked back to the vegetable garden and stopped by the barren cottonwood tree. He glanced at the thick branch just a few feet over the ground. He slowly removed the cord from around his robe and flung it easily over the branch and tied it. He made a crude noose around his neck tying several knots to tighten the end around his neck.   
Brother John said a long, silent prayer; he looked up at the moon and with a final determination bent his knees, putting almost all his weight on his neck. He held his breath for a while and then tried to breath slowly at first and then desperately ... The man behind the green door smiled, "Come in brother John .... My home is your home ... come in ... come on in ... Welcome home."
    .....

Jacob looked tired but peaceful, "What happens next?"
Stan Simpson ran his right thumb over his lips, "The sentencing ... actually a post conviction hearing, at which the A.G. plans to establish aggravating factors and ask for the death penalty."
Jacob looked at Stan's face and smiled, "Well! You did tell me they will try to get the death penalty ... that will certainly silence me forever."
Stan fidgeted in his seat, "There is an automatic review if the sentence is indeed death."
"When do you think it will be over. I am getting tired of all this. I want this over and done with ... one way or the other."
"Don't worry, these cases drag on for years and years, we can keep appealing for almost as long as we want."
"Let's not get into that yet. I may not want you to do that. I am getting fed up with these legal games, these charades."
.....

A stunned Stan and Stacy met with the board of Realism party. "I talked to Jacob this morning. He understands that the A.G. is going to ask for the death penalty."
A silence fell on the group. Hank Silva recovered first, "We knew that could happen, but ... what are our options?"
"We will appeal as long as we want to, but Jacob seems reluctant ... he does not like the idea of endless appeals that drag on forever. He is getting tired of all the legal maneuverings."
"We have to keep him alive ... and free ... I know him like a brother. We have to keep him free ... that may be more important to him than anything else ... even life."
"I agree with Jacob," Michael spoke slowly and emotionally, "Jacob is my brother. He needs freedom like a second skin. Without that he would choose ... d .. death."
.....



Chapter 25 ... Pawns on the Board
Scot Simpson looked at Stacy and shook his head, "I did not get through ... these people had already made up their minds. I feel sick. They were so easily manipulated by the prosecution. It's amazing how the lack of evidence did not bother any of them. What a farce."
Jacob stood silently observing his own feelings. He felt nothing. These ignorant people had pronounced the death penalty on him but he felt nothing. Just an emptiness in his stomach. And pity. Pity for these ignorant fools. He patted Scot on the shoulder and walked out with the sheriff towards the waiting police van.
Lisa stood speechless staring at Jacob's receding back. Andy and Michael stood on either side of her trying to comfort her with their presence.
    .....

After the fourth appeal, Jacob screamed, "I want you to stop it. No more appeals. No more. I have done nothing but go from courtroom to courtroom, from one appeal to another ... I don't know which ones are automatic and which ones have been filed on my behalf. But I want this stopped as of now. Immediately."
"Your importance to the organization ..."
"I don't care to survive this way. If I am not free to move as I choose, if I am not free to think and speak as I choose, if I am not free to be with whoever and whenever I choose ... then I choose not to live. Life is pointless if I cannot live it at my terms. Just staying alive is not my choice. Instead of spending the rest of my life locked up and silent; I would rather be dead."
Scot knew this would happen, but was surprised at the depth of Jacob's passion for life. The passion that would gladly embrace death over accepting life at any cost.
    ..... 

Andy spoke first, "All right Scot, You did your best. I think the dice are stacked against us. They have been since the very beginning. And I understand Jacob's feelings on not going through any more appeals. You tried, and we tried."
"He does not want to spend the rest of his life in a jail cell. That's worse than death to him. But we have to ... do something," Michael looked at the group gathered in the living room of Hank Silva's home. What a change, he thought ... from our own building and conference rooms to this.
"The last eighteen months have not been very good to us. The Realism party is in shambles. I wonder how long we will last? I will always be available and my home is always available for all of you whenever you need it." Hank smiled and nodded at the group.
Michael motioned for Andy to stay back. When everyone else had left. He turned to Hank, "Can we have some coffee. We need to plan a rescue or an escape."
"I agree. I feel desperate. This is war now. I don't care if I live or die. I would do anything to get Jacob out," Andy spoke slowly, emotionally.
"We still have enough money that we can use to buy people if we need. Let's see ... October 1993; that gives us time to find the right people in the right place that can get him released or to plan to bust him out," Hank looked at Michael expecting the start of the formulation of a plan.
"Perhaps Hank can find out where Jacob will be imprisoned prior to the execution." Andy choked on the word, "I will go through the information on members of Realism and see if I can come up with anything."
    .....

Sam Shepard put his arms around Helen Taggert and kissed her, "We did it. You wonderful A.G. You are marvelous. I can't believe how hard it was. But you did it. You are great. Jacob Craden is going to fry, what a great day this is!"
"Thank you, governor. I think we would have put him away, no matter what. The jury didn't like him either. And the wonderful evidence. I can't begin to imagine how it was obtained. But we owe a lot to the Vatican. The evidence was beautiful. The death penalty was almost guaranteed, I am glad we went for it. Oh! I am so happy."
"That's right. The Archbishop must be thanked. I will call him right away. This is a wonderful day."   
Archbishop Kennedy took the call, "Yes governor, I just heard the news. Great work. You must thank the attorney general on my behalf. She did a great job."
"Yes indeed. But without your help, I don't think we would have been able to convince the jury. The evidence supplied by you was perfect. Will you thank the Vatican for me? I am very grateful."
"I will talk to the Vatican and convey your gratitude. I am sure they will be as pleased with the verdict as I am."
    .....

Cardinal Sarducchi got up from the dining table slowly. He felt nauseous. His mind kept being tempted by the cheese, pasta and wine, but his stomach kept churning. Maybe I will feel better at dinnertime. Perhaps I should take a seltzer to silence my stomach.
Tiredness seem to take control of him, as he walked towards his private office. He was going to go and lie down on the couch. His heart started pounding and his breathing got harder. He felt numbness in his right shoulder. The ground started spinning and he collapsed in a heap.
He was slowly lifted from the floor and carried to his office and onto his couch. The resident physician was there in five minutes.
"Where does it hurt, Cardinal?"
"It hurts to breath. I ... I can't feel my right shoulder ... and my legs ... there is a numbness in my ..."
Father Sarducchi's face became blood red as something in his body gave up. A valve to the heart plugged up and blood stopped pumping through the heart. The doctor started CPR, "Get an ambulance. The cardinal is having a heart attack" he screamed.
    .....

"Cardinal Sarducchi? No this is father Parseene. Who is this please?"
"I am Archbishop Kennedy ... from New York ... America. May I please speak to the cardinal?"
"I am so sorry. Cardinal Sarducchi died this afternoon ... a massive heart attack. Right after lunch."
"My goodness, I am so sorry to hear that. I had no idea ... were there any problems ... He seemed healthy and in good spirits the last time I saw him."
"Well, he was not in the best of health the last few months. You know, too much cheese and wine in the diet ... and the lack of exercise ... it becomes too much for the heart to handle ... May God rest him in peace. Is there something I can do for you?"
"I was just calling to thank him and the Vatican in helping us in our cause ... perhaps you could thank everyone ... our gratitude for the help in the case against Jacob Craden ... could you please?"
"But of course."
The Archbishop stared at the receiver. Fate ... how ironic ... he didn't even know what a great job we really did ... and in his own way the cardinal played his part ... the real evidence was a gift from the cardinal ... how ironic ... he will never know.
    .....

Jack Short sat on his desk and turned on the personal computer. "The Beginning of the best of times for the society is at hand. Our judicial system has spoken, the people of this state have spoken and Jacob Craden will not be allowed to poison the minds of our citizens anymore.
"The clever ploys used by the defense were no match to the simplicity of the truth that we have all known. Jacob Craden has been like a messenger of the devil, defying anything that hints of purity and decency. His speeches had been tolerated under "freedom of speech" rights, not anymore. His acts of violence against our religious institutions, against our religious leaders, against religion and God will not be tolerated anymore.
"Other would be assassins of morality and decency better take notice. It is a new beginning for the citizens of Colorado and an end for the dark evil forces like Jacob Craden and his Realism party. Our society can look forward to the days of enlightenment and peace."
He read the column twice, making minor changes. Smiling with satisfaction he poured himself another cup of black coffee and reached for a chocolate doughnut.
    .....

Natalie Skinner threw her coat on the sofa and walked into the kitchen. She had just heard that Jacob Craden had instructed his lawyers to stop the appeals process. He just wants to die. She didn't really blame him. Who wants to be in a prison cell for the rest of his life? She agreed with his decision. She  admired his courage.
She filled a glass with ice cubes and filled it more than half way with Black Velvet. She filled the rest of it with tap water and sat down on the sofa. She took a sip and let the whiskey run through her body slowly warming it up. The whole day, she had felt cold and dry, the whisky energized her.
The end of the appeals process would mean the execution could go ahead as planned. What will that do to Andy, she wondered? She took another sip. She still missed Andy. The last time she had talked to him had been after the arrest of Jacob. The last time she had seen him was in the courtroom the day Jacob Craden had been found guilty.
Guilty. She shuddered. She knew there was some kind of conspiracy involved in this. She had seen too much at the rally. Getting hurt at the rally had actually turned out to be quite good. She smiled as she remembered how Andy and she had been drawn closer and closer as they both healed slowly, together. She ran a finger across her scalp, trying to trace the scar on her scalp. She stared blankly at the wall and sipped the whisky slowly.
Was the evidence real ... no it couldn't be. She had come to know many of the Realism party members. They were not a bunch of hooligans bent on destroying society, they had seemed to be more intellectual and above these sort of things. They were more interested in sowing the seeds of enlightenment that would lead people in the right direction, the direction they chose. It could never have been done by them. And what about Michael's wife ... Denise had died horribly. The explosions on the night of January tenth had shattered more than a few lives, including hers. 
    .....
    
Andy went through four boxes of documents on members of the Realism party. He found nothing. "What the hell am I looking for? If there was someone out there who could help Jacob, he would surely have contacted us by now? Where do I look to find this person?"
He walked into his kitchen and poured himself half a glass of Black Velvet. As he added ice and water, he smiled. Natalie. Natalie Skinner. She was the one who weaned him away from scotch, turning him on to the blended whiskey that had become their mutual drink. He stared in space and rolled the bottle in his hands lovingly. He shook his head to clear it of those memories and went back to his office.
He looked around, not sure of where his search should start next. He opened the box marked "Contributors 1980-85". There were about a dozen ledgers of people who had made at least one contribution of one hundred dollars or more between 1980 and '85. He started flipping through the first one.
After two hours, he had still not found anything. "Maybe I should call it a day. If its not going to be the easy way, we will break Jacob out the hard way." He said to the glass of Black Velvet. He bent over and picked up another ledger.
Cynthia Brown was the third name on the first page. He looked at the ledger not believing his eyes. He read it again. Cynthia Brown ... $200.00; Profession: R.P.N. State Territorial Correctional Facility, Buena Vista. Member since: March 1982.
He jumped up in joy. He had hit the unknown, unseen target. He wrote the name down in his address book, kissed the ledger and replaced it in the box.
    .....

Michael was very depressed. It had become harder and harder to sleep each night. He would start getting drowsy and would hit the bed. Lying in bed he would stare at the ceiling unable to sleep. Nothing seemed to work.
Images filled his mind. Denise screaming for help, stumbling in dark, her arms extended, reaching for him, her savior. He had not been able to save her. If only he could. Tears started to flow as he clutched the pillow in his arms. The emptiness of the bed made his whole universe empty.
He tried to think of Jacob ... what would happen to Jacob ... Jacob extending his arm to be injected with cyanide ... and then twitching in a horrible death ... Denise and Jacob, the two treasures in his life taken away from him  ...  Explosions as a team of commandos break into the prison and free Jacob ... escaping in fast cars ... Police cars firing at them, chasing them forever on the freeways ... Lisa and Mary staring at Michael ... as if waiting for him to give them the answer ... Andy wringing his hands, getting angrier by the second ... And Jacob looking at him, without looking at him, looking through him ... waiting ... waiting for something or somebody ...
The phone rang, breaking the images, "Yes Andy?"
"You won't believe what I found? It took almost a full day of digging through all the boxes, but I found it."
"Found it ... what?"
"I found Cynthia Brown."
"Who in the hell is Cynthia Brown?"
"She is our answer ... listen to this: R.P.N. A Registered Practicing Nurse; at the Buena Vista Correctional Facility! One of our own, right in the facility."
"Wow! She can be the answer. Thank you Andy, we may be able to pull something. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe we can help Jacob now. Set up a meeting with Cynthia."
"Who else?"
"Well; you, me, and Hank. We should meet her together and find out how she feels about Jacob and what she may be willing to do. We have to try our best to get as much information from her as we can and to try to talk her into agreeing to do whatever we can to get Jacob out."
"I feel very good about it already."
"I think you may have given me my peace and sleep back. Thank you Andy."
"How are you holding up?"
"Not very well, some days are worse than the others. The feeling of being alone is terrible. I may have to send Jim to my parents in Michigan. I can't take care of him without Denise?"
"Hang on Micheal. We will recover from these bad times. I promise you, we will. Now that we have found Cynthia."
.....



Chapter 26 ... The Awakening
Jacob blinked. He anticipated pain but was surprised by the soothing effect of the drugs running through his veins. He involuntarily flexed his arms and felt the soft cotton blanket tucked around him, holding him, keeping him warm. He tried to see through the haze. Where was he? What had happened? He saw someone approaching him and tried hard to focus his eyes.
"Are you up Jacob? I hope you are up. Can you hear me? It's a nice morning, with a few clouds, but the sun is going to burn these morning clouds and it's going to be a beautiful day."
Lisa? His mind recognized the voice. What was happening? Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Was he not dead yet? Was he hallucinating? "Lisa?"
Lisa's heart skipped a beat. "Jacob, can you hear me?"
"Yes Lisa. Where am I? what's happening?" he whispered. "My lips feel glued together."
"Don't worry yourself Jacob. You are home. We are taking care of you. You will be back to normal soon. Don't exert yourself. I am here for anything you need. Can you see at all? Your eyes don't seem to open completely."
"I can't get them to focus. How long have I been here? Get me some water ... I am thirsty."
"I'll get you some cold water. You just relax and let your body recover. You are improving day by day. We will tell you all you need to know in time. Just relax for the time being. Have patience. I will get Mary."
"Mother?"
    .....

Jacob's recovery was slow but steady. Having his mother and Lisa around accelerated his recovery. Michael and Andy visited him on an ongoing basis; sometimes regularly, sometimes not.
On one of his visits, Andy called Lisa aside, "Jacob looks quite good to me, but what do you see? How is his progress?"
"He has fully recovered the use of his eyes and speaks almost normally. The extent of the damage to his brain is unknown. He can function almost by himself, but he does not seem to comprehend most of who he is, what he has done, what was done to him, and the complex life that was his and is his now."
"Do you think he will ever be back to his old self, or close to it?"
"I am not sure. It's like dealing with a child. He is learning things rapidly ... I hope it will be soon."
"I admire your dedication Lisa. Are you holding up all right?"
"Oh! I am doing great. I never thought I would assist Jacob with anything. I never thought I would be as significant in his life as I am now. This is an opportunity that is very gratifying. I feel lucky to be able to do something for him. And Andy what about you? How are you holding up after this long ordeal?"
"I may go back to Michigan. To my old job. I am not sure right now."
    .....

Andy made up his mind. It was time to go on. Jacob will recover slowly and perhaps someday something could be done somehow. Lisa and Mary were more than adequately helping Jacob.    Andy had put his own life on hold. He needed to restart it. The public relations firm wanted him back, badly. He could regain his status in life. He could continue to visit Jacob every so often. He couldn't wait any longer to put his life back in some semblance of motion. It seemed to be the right time.
He called Jacob, "Jacob, this is Andy. How have you been?"
"Andy? Yes, Andy. I am fine. Nice to hear from you. How are things?"
"Jacob, I have decided to go back to my old job ... in Michigan. I plan to leave on Tuesday. I will continue to call you and visit you as much as I can. Can I talk to Lisa?"
"You want to go back to Michigan? I hope it's nice."
Lisa had known what was coming, "So, you are planning to take that offer?"
"Yes Lisa. I am no good to anyone here. And, I do need to restart my life, I think."
"I wish you lots of luck, Andy. I'll miss you. I hope you can come back and visit us from time to time."
"You can count on that. Lisa, how's his progress?"
"Oh! I should tell you. I dug up some of his old tapes. You know, his speeches, some recorded as he delivered them and some as he practiced them. He is listening to them very intently, I think he is very close to full recovery. He loves that tape that he made with you ... one of his old tapes with you pushing him to do more with his voice and to build up the theme more and more at each step ... do you remember?"
"Which one is that?"
"Oh! You know, the one about the basic fallacy of religion. The one that goes on and on about ... what kind of religion is this and what kind of religion is this etc. etc."
"I remember that. That's so old ... what seven, ten years old?"
"He loves that. It seems to give him his youth back. He has listened to it a hundred times. He tries to copy his own style and deliver the same speech. It's doing him good."
"I am glad to hear that. He is an extraordinary man and always will be. I hate to move so far, but I will always keep in touch. And anytime you need anything call me. Don't ever think twice. Just call me."
"You don't have to tell me that, Andy. Let me ask you about your own life. What about Natalie? Have you thought about her? Have you called her?"
"No. I think that's a part of my life that's past and done with. I am making a new start ... a new life."
"You fool, you will never feel what you felt for Natalie ever again. I know you Andy. She may be out there just waiting for that one call ... from you. Don't make such a huge mistake. Please give her a call. Will you Andy? Think about the relationship that you two had built before all hell broke loose. Call her Andy."
"I'll think about it Lisa."
"Andy, you have done what you could for Jacob. You saved his life. Jacob is doing fine. The best that can be expected. You may never get to do what you have done in the last few years. But your life is still ahead of you. The rest of your life. You need to do something for yourself for a change. Think back. Think of the time you spent with Natalie. Not only the intellectual contact but also the physical. You are good for each other. Call her. For your own sake."
.....

Andy walked to gate A-28 and looked at his watch again; 6:35. It was getting dark. He wished the plane was there and he was on his way out. He walked the length of the Concourse marveling that Stapleton was still functioning. Like bad dreams the memories of DIA were not completely forgotten. He was glad to be flying out of Stapleton.
He looked at his watch again. Lisa's words came back to him; "Think about the relationship you two had built ... give her a call ...    she may be out there just waiting for a call from you ..."
Natalie. Natalie Skinner. He knew he loved her. He knew she was the perfect woman for him. Why was he hesitating now? Why did he stop the relationship? Why did he weave the web around himself to keep her out? Why did he create this world of loneliness around him? Why? Why? Why?
Natalie. When was the last time he saw her? Was that at the funeral? He did miss her. Could he really call her now? Lisa had said he should. "Don't be a fool ... Don't make such a huge mistake ..." Did he have that kind of courage? After all these years? Did he dare?
Andy shook his head to clear it of all the thoughts of Natalie. He looked around the airport. He spotted a row of telephones and started walking towards them.
    .....

Jacob's voice was booming, " What kind of religion is this that the highest achievable goal is predefined to be not achievable by man! What kind of religion is this that you have sinned because you were born! What kind of religion is this that the conception of its leader is immaculate, but conception of the rest is dirty, and doomed by definition! What kind of religion is this that's built on the foundation of its victims minds ..."
Jacob's eyes were burning intensely as he reabsorbed the speech. He pulled a writing pad towards him, "I have an idea." He started to write furiously, his mind tumbling words and images and ideas and sounds and creating magic.
THE END   
Copyright (c) 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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