Chapter 12
Her Grace sobbed. The few tears she shed dried quickly in the thin mountain air. A nurse entered the great room, bowed respectfully and asked:
“Your Grace, may I help in any way?”
Her Grace realized this was the last chance the doctor would give her to get her emotions under control. She agreed with the doctor. The Church could not afford to lose her now. None of the others had her combination of courage, conviction and ability.
“No, my dear. I am simply saddened. Tell the doctor I’ll be fine now,” she answered as kindly as she could.
“Please repeat command?” the computer asked, its mechanical voice sounding almost humble.
“Compose reply,” she said.
“Do you wish to compose a reply,” The computer asked?
“Yes,” After ten minutes of weary effort she had composed the reply. When translated it would say:
You have been given another chance at redemption. Continue with your work.
She pushed thought of the man’s failure out of her mind for a moment, told the computer to disconnect itself from the network and laboriously instructed the computer to open the jump drive in the USB port. At least some of their projects were bearing fruit. The riot had resulted in the destruction of the laboratory that had caused them so much trouble. It had been easy for her agents to infiltrate and incite the animal rights group. Because of their fanatic love for soulless animals, there was no way the activity would be connected to the Church. They were fools, she thought. How should medical research be conducted-on their children? She would not object if they were children of atheists, Jews or Muslims.
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One of their pet politicians had succeeded in pressuring the FDA into even more Byzantine rules that would make it nearly impossible for these agents of the devil to tamper with her savior’s work. She watched the video of his speech from the house floor. He had spoken with such conviction and power about the need for safety. His eyes had burned bright as he wove his web of lies about contaminated cultures and genetically altered crops mutating. He was a major power on the congressional committee that controlled government grants to biotech research labs. The voting populus was so ignorant that many believed he had their interests at heart. She quickly read another article and then stopped and smiled.
The politician had assured her that the new law giving the federal government even more authority in its fight against terrorism would help them. And now, he was proving to be right. Much of the research done in biotech could be spun to appear to be a risk as a possible bioweapon. This had given Homeland Security the in it needed to monitor and, in many cases guide research. Promising lines of research were being stalled and in some cases funding cut or the programs shut down because they weren’t secure. Her laboratory was being left completely alone and funding increased. The Sword of God was being fully funded with a few simple keystrokes on an accounting system.
Once she was done counting their victories, she told the computer to disconnect the jump drive and had one of her aides remove it and put it in the safe. Her thoughts returned to this new instrument their savior had supplied. This man they provided for her was a good tool. This man who had failed, believed, wanted, and had the will. He was also able to carry out the parts of his task that were most distasteful and difficult. The man had to be taught new skills. She had watched the progress reports as the man went through training. It was not a question of physical skill. The man was powerful and strong. His foot, deformed at birth, had not been a source of weakness, but of strength.
His head injury made him nearly emotionless, which was so important now. At first, she had doubted her agent’s reports that some of the enemy could read minds. This was blasphemy. Her savior was the only one who could see into the minds and hearts of men. Then they showed her highly classified government documents. It was true. A new scourge of the devil placed on her children. Some men and women were able to read the feelings of others. And a very few could read actual thoughts. It was times like these that she wished she could still cross herself: Some could move objects with their minds. These were surely the children of the devil. It made this man’s robot-like nature very important. He was a cipher even to these children of the devil.
The man did not have the technical skills to avoid electronic surveillance. He only had rudimentary computer skills. He had struggled. His lack of formal education should have made it impossible for him to succeed. He succeeded by working for days on end with little rest. He triumphed by asking many questions, and, even more important, making sure he understood the answers. He succeeded by reading three books to explain the one assigned. The man succeeded in his preparation by force of will.
She thought again about how close they had been to success with the first one on the list. A few more minutes would have been enough. The man she used had prepared and watched and waited. The Church had provided him with information that was most thorough and completely accurate. No one but the Church could have acquired such information.
The Church sent only rudimentary information, and that in code, by any electronic method. The full report would be written by hand and delivered by messenger who would memorize the report, destroy it and deliver it. There would be no trail hidden in the black powder on paper from a printer. There would be no electronic scent left on a hard drive that someone might forget to empty, fill with ones and zeros and then destroy. Pen and paper would give her the details. She believed that when she saw the full details she would know the man had done everything and more that was necessary to succeed.
It was simply a matter of happenstance. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of her mind, in some small corner, there might have once been a doubt. A tiny flicker of doubt about their righteousness crept into her heart. Perhaps they were not ordained to succeed? She discovered this tiny flicker of doubt and crushed it as her father had crushed her soul in those dark and sweaty nights she remembered so fondly.