Judgment Day (19 page)

Daniel's sister was waiting for her session and when the two saw each other they embraced. Three-year-old Faith had to be pried sobbing from her brother's grasp and Rosa made a mental note not to schedule them back to back in the future. Rosa took a moment to set both recorders up for the next session, then put the toys and cookies away. Then she had the social worker bring in Faith, who stood where Daniel had, with tear-stained cheeks and a runny nose. Rosa waited for her to calm down, thinking of Daniel and the good start that had been made that morning.

CHAPTER 35 VISITOR

Conservatives are notorious for their paranoia. Delusions of persecution leave them believing there are rooms full of men plotting to do them harm. Of course, in reality, nothing of the kind happens.

—
THE CONSERVATIVE CON
, RON CARTER

A
utumn Rest Cemetery was the centerpiece of Crow's burial empire. The sprawling cemetery spread over seven hills in suburban San Francisco. Evergreen hedges rimmed his property, screening out the housing developments that had crept to the edge of his land. Sprinkled around the grounds were deciduous trees strategically located to increase the value of certain plots. It amused Crow there were so many willing to pay extra to be buried in the shade.

Near the western edge of the cemetery was the mausoleum and crematorium. Cremations brought only a fraction of the revenue of burial. Crow would have built Autumn Rest without the crematorium, except he needed the furnace for his own purposes. For that same reason his office complex was built next to the crematorium, connected by an underground passage unknown to the employees.

After his election to Congress, Crow preferred working at his Autumn Rest office during recess, unconcerned about potential conflicts of interest.

His financial affairs were now handled by a "blind trust" that was run by a woman handpicked by Rachel and directed through her by Crow.

He parked his Mercedes in his reserved space, at the same time noticing a man leaving a van and walking directly toward him. As wary as the bird he shared a name with, Crow tensed, standing by his open car door, ready to spring for a hidden gun. Sensing Crow's wariness, the man spread his arms.

"Good afternoon, Congressman Crow," the man said in a low crisp voice.

Military, Crow thought.

"Congressman Crow, if you have a minute I would like to talk with you about a matter of mutual concern," the man said, stopping five feet away.

"If you want an appointment, call my assistant, Rachel Waters."

The man was tall, at least six feet, broad-shouldered, and well muscled—physically intimidating. His brown hair was thin on top and cut short on the sides. His nose was slightly crooked. His brown eyes were flecked with yellow. His thin lips were pulled into a slight smile. A crooked white scar on his right cheek marked some old wound. He was dressed casually, in jeans and polo shirt, wearing a light jacket, even though the afternoon was warm.

"This is about the Fellowship," the man said.

Even more cautious now, Crow played the part of congressman.

"My committee's investigation of the Light in the Darkness Fellowship is ongoing and I can't comment on it until we've completed our fact-finding."

"You had enough facts to try and shoot down one of their ships," the man said.

Crow's face darkened.

"That's an outrageous accusation!"

Reaching slowly into his coat, the man extracted a photograph, handing it to Crow. Crow recognized the man in the photo as the man he had hired—the man he knew as "the mechanic."

"Do you really want to have this discussion in a parking lot?" the man asked.

Crow nodded toward his office building, leading the man inside. Crow led the way, bypassing the business office, preferring not to be seen with a man he might soon kill. Instead, he used his private entrance and led him straight to his office. The man sat opposite the desk, filling the oversized chair like no one else ever had.

"Who are you?" Crow demanded.

"Call me Mr. Fry," the man said.

"What is it you want, Mr. Fry?" Crow asked, expecting blackmail.

"Before we get to that, I want to know what you did with our man?"

"Your man?"

He tossed the picture he had shown Crow in the parking lot onto the desk. It slid across to stop in front of Crow.

"The man you hired to shoot down the
Rising Savior
worked for us,"

Mr. Fry said.

"Us?"

"The Company."

Crow kept his face impassive, but his heart was racing. Rachel had made the contact with the assassin, but if the CIA knew about him then the game was over.

"No need to worry, Congressman," Fry said. "The agency isn't aware of your activities."

Crow brightened. If only this man knew about him, the knowledge could be contained.

Then, as if he was reading Crow's mind, Mr. Fry said, "Others in my organization know about your involvement."

"I thought you said the agency didn't know."

"This information hasn't been routed through official channels," Fry said, leaning back in the large leather chair. "Sometimes it is necessary to act outside the restrictions imposed on us."

"Like reporting to Congressional Oversight Committees?" Crow suggested.

"We might as well call the
Washington Post
directly," he said.

Crow knew congressmen privy to intelligence were notorious for leaking information in order to block intelligence activities they disagreed with.

"Don't worry, we're not going to turn you in," Fry assured him. "We let you proceed with your plan because we share your concern about the cult.

Religious fanaticism in any form is a threat to the nation."

Crow saw through the rhetoric. The threat Mr. Fry and his associates worried about was the loss of control over a segment of society. The Fellowship's technology gave them unprecedented social and economic freedom.

"For a long time the agency has worked to make sure no Islamic countries obtain nuclear weapons," Mr. Fry continued. "The Islamic bomb has been our greatest fear. As it turned out we were looking the wrong way. We were watching for external threats when the greatest threat of all developed in our own backyard."

Reading between the lines, Crow could see that this was about power.

Nuclear weapons in the hands of Islamic fundamentalists would radically shift the distribution of world power. The antigravity drive of the Fellowship threatened to do the same thing.

"At first we thought shooting down their craft was the right move and we were happy to support your efforts. However, the Fellowship's disinformation campaign had successfully hidden the extent of their development efforts. Our goal now is acquiring that technology."

"Can you do that?" Crow asked, intrigued.

"We briefly infiltrated two of their labs but with no success. Our people couldn't get access to the drive technology. The rest of the technology used in their ships isn't any more sophisticated than a Boeing
111
and can be bought off the shelf in a half-dozen countries. Still, we have turned up some interesting clues to the source of their power."

Mr. Fry leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"That's why we've come to you," Mr. Fry said conspiratorially.

Careful not to incriminate himself, Crow remained silent, letting his visitor lead the way.

"We suspect after you failed to shoot down the
Rising Savior
, you arranged for its destruction through contacts at NASA."

"Nonsense," Crow lied.

"That was a good piece of work," Mr. Fry said, ignoring Crow's denial.

"If you are still interested in ending the monopoly the cult has on this technology, I have a proposal for you."

"I'm listening," Crow said, trying not to sound interested.

"Since we are working outside the Company, we don't have access to the financial resources we need. We can generate income through various means, but it increases the risk of discovery. However, if we can get the resources to complete our current project we believe we can acquire the cult's technology."

"How?"

The man reached inside his jacket, pulling an envelope out of an inner pocket. When he did Crow spotted a gun in a shoulder holster. The man tossed the envelope to Crow, then settled back in his chair.

There was a blurry photo in the envelope. Crow saw only black, white, grays, and shadows. Turning the photo around he realized it was shot underwater, finally he identified a shape—it was a sphere—the
Rising Savior
.

"Their ship is intact?"

"It was tracked by Norad all the way down. Apparently the drive system cut in and out slowing the descent enough so that it didn't burn up."

"Have you raised the ship yet?"

"No. We've acquired the necessary equipment, but we're short of cash.

We can have it up in a month if you can provide the money."

"Why do you need me? Surely the agency would bankroll this project."

"They would, but we aren't prepared to share the technology. Too much risk of leaks. Besides, the president doesn't yet understand the threat this represents. The president actually uses the cult as an example of the free enterprise system at work."

Clearly Mr. Fry and his associates wanted the power that came with the Fellowship's technology for themselves, but that didn't matter to Crow. Destroying the cult was his primary goal and he could use Fry and his group. Besides, Crow had been told to "prepare the way." He hoped the world would soon have bigger problems to deal with than rogues in the CIA.

"I think I can help you," Crow said.

"Good. One thing more. We'd also like you to fund a research project. As you know Ira Breitling is the technical genius behind their antigravity drive. We believe he made the discovery while he was a graduate student at the Ohio State University. There was an accident then—that's how he lost an eye."

"You're talking about the explosion."

Crow knew of Ira's past, but Simon Ash had turned up nothing to suggest that the accident at the university was the root of their technological breakthrough.

"You have evidence there is a link between the explosion and their drive?"

"There was unusual structural damage to the building not typical of an explosion."

"Breitling wasn't working on anything related to a space drive—it was a materials science project, I believe," Crow argued.

"The goal was to develop a metallo-ceramic alloy under a Defense Department grant," Fry said.

Crow tucked that bit of information away. If Breitling had made a discovery while working for the Defense Department, ownership of the technology could be challenged in court.

"DOD killed the project immediately after the accident."

"What was the goal?" Crow asked. His visitor was a wealth of information.

"They wanted to develop an energy resistant material to coat ballistic

missiles and stealth aircraft. They wanted a material like that used on the belly of the space shuttle but instead of diffusing heat the surface would disperse a wide range of electromagnetic radiation—specifically radar. The project was abandoned when a separate project developed materials that absorbed electromagnetic energy."

"Do they still have records of the experiment?"

"Everything was destroyed in the lab. All we have are copies of the progress reports filed by Dr. Kurtz. Unfortunately, he died three years after the accident."

Crow knew of Kurtz's death, but without Kurtz who would lead the research project?

"As you probably know, one of Kurtz's graduate students was killed in the lab while working with Breitling—Constance Wong."

Crow nodded. Ash had filled him in on all of this.

"But there was another graduate student privy to Dr. Kurtz's work," Fry said. "He's the one we'd like to recruit. Constance Wong was the love of his life. His name is Dr. Kent Thorpe and he hates Ira Breitling."

CHAPTER 36 BREAKTHROUGH

The presenting symptoms of clients can usually be ignored. Instead, therapists must begin digging immediately, because trauma is usually buried deep in the unconscious.

—
HIDDEN TERRORS! WOMEN IN THERAPY
, ROSA QUIGLY

O
n his fourth session with Rosa, Daniel went straight to the rug and sat down. Rosa noticed that Daniel had scratches on his face.

"What happened to your face, Daniel?" Rosa asked.

"I got in a fight," Daniel said, head down.

"With who?"

"Marty," Daniel said softly.

Rosa knew Marty was one of the older boys at the center. Daniel had complained about Marty before.

"Why were you and Marty fighting?" Rosa asked.

"He was pinching Faith," Daniel said. "He made her cry. I told him to stop but he wouldn't."

Rosa clucked her tongue.

"You should have let Faith handle it, Daniel."

"But she's little and she's scared of him."

"He's the one that's afraid, Daniel," Rosa explained patiently. "That's why he picks on you and Faith. He doesn't like himself very well and he's afraid you won't like him either."

"I don't like kids who bother other kids," Daniel said.

"Daniel, you should know that hitting people never solves problems,"

Rosa said.

"Marty didn't pinch Faith after I hit him," Daniel said. "I hit him real good. Right in the stomach."

"You should feel sorry for Marty," Rosa said in a soothing voice. "Try to understand him. He could be a good friend if you gave him a chance."

"Nobody likes him," Daniel said.

"If you didn't have any friends you might pick on other kids too," Rosa said.

"If he didn't pick on us we'd like him lots better," Daniel countered.

Rosa shook her head. Turning social theory into something children could understand was always difficult. With children brainwashed into traditional thinking, like the Remple children were, it would take years of reeducation.

Rosa triggered her hidden recorder, smiled, and said, "Did you try harder this time, Daniel?"

"Yes," Daniel said. "If I remember something can I go home like you told me?"

"You have to remember first," she said.

Daniel nodded solemnly and looked sad.

"It will be all right, Daniel," Rosa said. "Just try and remember."

Rosa sat back in her rocker, smoothed her ankle-length skirt, and triggered the police camera.

"How are you today, Daniel?"

"I remember something," Daniel said immediately.

Turning her head so the police camera could catch her facial expression, she faked surprise and said, "Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Yes. My daddy touched me on my privacy once."

"Only once?" she said, a slight edge to her voice.

"More than once?"

"You tell me, Daniel."

"Yeah, more than once. Can I go home, now?"

"Where did he touch you?"

"My privacy."

"Get the dolls out, Daniel. Show me how he touched you."

Daniel opened the toy box and took out the little boy doll, pointing at the oversized genitals.

"Get the daddy doll, Daniel. Use the daddy doll to show me what he did."

Daniel retrieved the other doll but held it limp in his hand, his head down. Rosa waited patiently. They were so close and she knew the memories must be welling up in the little boy's mind. The pain of what his father did to him was rushing back, just as the memories of her own father's crimes did her. In his own way, Daniel knew he was giving evidence against his father and that would be hard for him. It would be harder still when he testified in court. Finally, Daniel took the daddy doll's hand and placed on the little boy's genitals. Tears in his eyes now, he looked up at Rosa.

"Can I go home please?"

"Not just yet, Daniel. I want to talk to you about Reverend Shepherd."

Tears were streaming down Daniel's face.

"Reverend Mark?"

"Did Reverend Mark ever touch your privacy?"

Daniel broke into tears and Rosa knew the truth. Mark Shepherd had also abused Daniel and probably Faith too. Rosa knew patriarchical religious cults had been known to pass children around for use as sexual toys. However, Daniel was so upset it was clear they could not continue, so she picked up the cookie tin, signaling the end of the session. He couldn't stop crying so she put two cookies in his pocket, then turned off the police recorder.

"Daniel, you were very good today. You remembered some, but you need to remember a little more. Can you remember that Reverend Mark touched your privacy too?"

"But he didn't," Daniel sobbed.

"You just don't remember, Daniel, but if you try really hard I think you can. Maybe it was in Sunday school or maybe it was in a car. Did he ever drive you somewhere without your parents? Maybe he put his hand in your lap?"

"I'm never going home," Daniel said.

"If you remember it all, you can," Rosa assured him, even knowing Daniel would never live with his father again.

"You promised," Daniel said.

"You'll feel better if you remember, Daniel."

"I remembered about Daddy," he said, then broke into sobbing.

"That was good, Daniel, very good. You can't go home yet, but for being so good I think I can get you out of the Children's Center."

Daniel's sobbing came under control.

"I hate it there," Daniel said. "The other kids are mean to me and Faith."

Rosa knew Daniel and his sister Faith had been subject to abuse at the center. Praying before meals and at bedtime set them apart and made them targets. Unfortunately for Daniel he had been indoctrinated by the cult into thinking Faith needed protection and that it was his job. By standing up for his sister he took her beatings and denied her the opportunity to learn assertiveness. Being at the Children's Center had been a good lesson for them and made leaving the center a powerful reward that Rosa could use in the healing process. Daniel would be grateful to Rosa, not realizing it was she that kept him there long after the other Fellowship children had been placed in group homes or returned to their parents. That little bit of power was the lever she could use to remove the blockage that prevented him from remembering his abuse.

"In a couple of days you'll get to move to a real home and have a room to yourself. I'll see to it."

"Faith too?" he asked.

"Yes, but to a different home."

"Faith has bad dreams when I'm not with her."

Daniel's paternalism irritated Rosa but changing his attitude toward women was secondary to recovering his memories of abuse. Instead of rebuking him, she tried comforting him.

"The people she is going to live with will take good care of her."

Rosa crossed to the door, signaling Daniel's social worker it was time for him to go. Daniel's social worker took him by the hand and led him out as he used his other sleeve to wipe his nose and eyes.

Rosa understood the little boy's pain, but they had achieved a breakthrough today. He was starting to remember and soon the memories would flood back.