Carter—father and grandfather to
the abducted Chantal and Dodie—and his best friend, Harley Maxwell, are just
leaving Fargo , North Dakota Iowa . Because
both Chantal and Dodie have black hair and blue eyes—to some men considered the
most fair of women—Harley suspects the very professional abduction was
committed by the Illuminati.
Excerpt from Chapter 10 Illuminati
Goals & Tactics
“You mind taking the first driving
shift?” Harley asked.
“Fine.”
“We’ll go straight to I-29 south.”
“Right.” Carter’s mind was flying
as he climbed into the shiny vehicle and started it. Maybe if he changed the
subject back to, “So what about this world domination thing they want? A lot of
people have wanted that, throughout history, and they’ve all been
stopped…eventually.”
“All except the Illuminati, because
their organization is so secret, and buried inside our societies for
generations. Some claim for hundreds of years.”
Carter put the crew cab in gear and
started out, “And they’ve never been caught, or exposed?”
“Because they are so secret
and buried,” Harley continued, “But, recently—over recent years I
mean—some people—some really high up—have come out and made claims, written
articles—that the mainstream media wouldn’t touch, so it’s left up to the
conspiracy theorists, who nobody believes anyway—so the whistle-blowers go
online—thank God for the internet—but sometimes those articles disappear.”
“Disappear?”
“Yes. Did the writer—for fear of
getting exposed—delete his own articles? Or did the Illuminati discover them
and do the deleting? They have people prowling, looking for such stories
constantly. If the story is related to pop music—as many are—poorly written,
poor grammar and such, they leave them up. But if the story hits close to home
they disappear. And sometimes the whistle-blower disappears too. There are even
rumors of certain conspiracy theorists disappearing.”
“You mean…assassinated…?”
“Yes.”
“So the Illuminati actually hope to
achieve world domination, and what will they do when they get it?”
“Well, through war and disease, and
maybe in the end quite a few chemicals—”
“In the end?” Carter interrupted
“In the ideal Illuminati world they
want to have eighty-five percent fewer people, just enough for slaves to keep
the Illuminati happy and well-fed.” Harley reached to Carter’s shoulder and
squeezed, “They plan to kill billions of people, my friend, and nobody will
even know who did it. Even then they won’t be truly exposed. Not till the deed
is done and just the mind-controlled slave population remains.”
“Mind-control?” Carter steered onto
I-29 south at the intersection of Main Avenue ,
then slapped the steering wheel, “Christ, Harley, just tell me what I need to
know, and I doubt I need to know about mind-control…!” Snapping at his friend
probably was uncalled for.
“Sorry, Carter, I’m not trying to
bore you, but, you see, I don’t know what you need to know. I’m just
filling you in on what comes up, what things I do know about
these people.”
“It’s OK, Harley. I’m sorry too. I
just feel so helpless sometimes…but, please, go on about that mind
control-thing.”
“H-A-R-R-P. The High Frequency
Active Auroral Research Program. Or Harp. That’s an intense array of antennas
up in the Alaskan wilderness.” Harley gave a short laugh, “Ol’ Jesse Ventura
tried to get in to that one and got stopped.”
“You mean the ex-governor of Minnesota ?”
“Yes, I do. He’s one of the top
conspiracy theorists, even got his own TV show, but he couldn’t get past the
gate at Harp.”
Carter, with just two fingers on
the steering wheel and appreciating the ease of operating such a vehicle,
looked over at his friend and changed to a lighter subject, “How many horses in
this baby?”
“A little over three hundred
galloping Belgians, five point three litre V8 engine.”
“How about the floodlights? Don’t
see much of them anymore.”
“Had to special order, an “after
market” thing. That and special suspension shocks, so we won’t have any trouble
going off road.”
Carter shook his head at the
information, “Let’s just keep going. All day and all night. We’ll change off
driving.”
“Agreed.” Harley stored his
portable laptop and opened the one built into the console, slid it out, then
did some more clicking and found a news page where a weatherman was standing
before a huge map showing both the eastern seaboard and the Gulf. The
weatherman’s words took over the conversation: “…highly unusual for two
hurricanes to be approaching at once, but that’s what’s happening. In fact, I
have never heard of such a thing, and these are both vicious storms,
folks. At this point it looks like they both will be a category three or four…,
or more.”
“Could be a Harp event,” Harley
said quietly.
Carter listened for a few more
seconds to the weatherman, then tuned him out. He was again more interested in
the information Harley was providing, “So, this ‘harp’ can control
minds?”
“Yes and no, and, I don’t know,
Carter. What my quick research has told me, those antennae can temporarily
excite a limited area of the ionosphere. And by doing that, and intensifying
the signal, can control the weather, cause drought or flood, earthquakes—in
fact this double hurricane really could be a harp-caused event—and
control the mind.”
“Freaking, fucking, scary, man.”
Carter could hardly believe the words that had just left his mouth—
“…just in, the Senate, through a
squeaky close vote, just passed the new gun control law and the president is
expected to sign it immedia—“
Harley changed channels then turned
the sound down.
“Why did you shut that off?”
“Christ, Carter, gun control has
been in the news practically nonstop, for how long now? I’m sick of hearing
about it!”
Harley seemed more than a little
sick of it, like somehow the new law could affect him personally. He wondered
but held off asking. Again, maybe something he wouldn’t really want to know
about…but it was sure making him wonder, and noticed his friend tapping again
on the keyboard, “What are you doing now?” He didn’t mean to sound suspicious,
because he wasn’t—he didn’t think—but was pretty sure he had sounded
that way.
“Nothing,” Harley said, sounding a
bit perturbed, and moved the screen slightly so that Carter couldn’t see,
“Nothing important. We’ll plan a hundred miles or so per shift and then change
drivers.”
‘Nothing important’ right,
but the new site Harley went to took his full attention. Why would he turn
the screen so I can’t see?
End of chapter
Thanks for reading
Author’s notes
(Digital
downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
In my fiction I do
not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular
people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they
can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one
genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to
fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in
third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children.
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