Curtis Belltether, the shadowy web journalist and founder of Leak-o-paedia, had been trying to track down Rev. Peter Campbell for weeks. He was aware that before the New Jersey blast, Campbell’s widely publicized pronouncements of God’s coming apocalypse had caused the media to sarcastically label him “the Deacon of Doom.” But now that a mini-apocalypse had actually occurred right across the bay from the media center of the universe in New York, Belltether noticed that the high potentates of the mainstream press weren’t giving him the time of day — except for AmeriNews, which had quoted Campbell a few times. Belltether loved this kind of intrigue. He had the notion that Campbell might have something interesting to say about a whole lot of things.
But there was something else. The web reporter had been working a story about the United Nations climate convention and the newly formed global coalition of religions that had become its public relations arm, trying to force new international environmental standards on every nation. Many of his fellow reporters had been tracking the climate revolution, but all from a sympathetic angle, about the need for global preparedness. But when the horrendous New Jersey nuke blast happened, that eclipsed everything in the news business. At least at first. The news coverage that had focused on the crumbling U.S. economy, the gas riots at the pump, the depression-like failure of the American agricultural heartland, the mall bombing, and then the shocking news of President Corland’s coma, now gave way to something even more stunning.
The media launched into nonstop coverage of the nuclear devastation to the small town of Union Beach and the damage to its neighboring boroughs. Questions were asked about how it could have happened. Within hours after the tragedy, the innuendos started about a group of private vigilantes — had they tried to interfere with the terrorists and recklessly caused the bomb to be detonated? Perhaps the federal authorities might have stopped the bomb before it arrived in New York, had it not been for this lawless band of private mercenaries?
But now, a week and a half later, some of the global-warming spokespersons were speaking out about the effects of the nuclear detonations on the earth’s climate. They predicted that the radiation from the blasts in New Jersey and those in Iran would create a superheating of the atmosphere, beyond even that caused by the recent, unexplained acceleration of average temperatures.
But the more that Curtis Belltether dug, the more he sensed that the real story lay down at the murky, muddy bottom. During his interview with Dr. Robert Hamilton at the University of Hawaii, Hamilton had shown him his hard data on the climate effects of volcanic eruptions. The uptick in the number and the severity of global volcanic events, which had spewed millions of tons of dust particles into the atmosphere, actually explained why suddenly global temperatures seemed to have spiked exponentially. Belltether was particularly interested in Hamilton’s complaint that the federal climate agencies had blacklisted him and refused to consider his findings. If Hamilton’s theory was right, the increase in temperatures was not a global-warming crisis, but a short-lived trend caused by Mother Nature that would soon even out.
As Belltether kept digging, he saw a fascinating phenomena unfolding before his eyes: an international movement was capitalizing on the climate “crisis” in ways that might change life on earth in radical ways. Belltether was now a dog on a bone, and he would not be sidetracked.
When the Union Beach nuclear disaster occurred, Belltether figured that it would take a miracle to get Pastor Campbell to sit down for an interview. The pastor was working around the clock in the neighborhoods near his Manhattan-based Eternity Church to help those who had been impacted by the blast. Setting up soup kitchens. Locating missing persons. Establishing a homeless shelter in his church. The radiation findings so far for New York City were fairly good news. The strong easterly wind blew most of the radiation out to sea. But Wall Street and the stock market had been shut down and was still frozen in trading status since the blast. The real fear that nobody wanted to talk about because of the grotesque loss of life in the New Jersey attack — eight thousand dead not counting
those injured, perhaps critically — was the impending collapse of the American economy.
The United States government had cordoned off most of the New Jersey shoreline surrounding the pitiful, ashen ruins of what had formally been Union Beach. The FBI was performing an “all-out” investigation to trace the groups behind the attack. Secretly, however, they had discovered Jim Yaniky’s connection to the disaster and took him into custody. The U.S. attorney general’s office was personally conducting the interrogation. The government was quickly starting to mount a criminal case against the Roundtable, and Abigail Jordan in particular, for acts of “vigilantism”; acts, according to the Department of Justice, that had actually provoked the nuclear detonation during their botched citizens’ attempt to stop it.
Jessica Tulrude, meanwhile, had finally been sworn in as president of the United States as Virgil Corland continued to languish in a coma. Her strategy had been to keep delaying the formal swearing in until the optimal political timing; her instincts proved to be spot-on once again. It just so happened that now she could officially assume executive power
after
the New Jersey attack. That way Corland would be blamed, and she could avoid political responsibility for that horrible assault on American shores. She immediately ordered the attorney general to forcefully prosecute any “renegade citizens” who might have taken the law into their own hands. By that, of course, she meant the Roundtable, Abigail Jordan, and especially, Joshua.
On a hunch, Belltether painstakingly worked his way through the crush of traffic, police checkpoints, and emergency radiation huts around New York City. Finally he showed up at Eternity Church. He figured that would be a good place to start. Hundreds of people — church staff, the homeless, and volunteers — were milling around. No one seemed to know where Pastor Campbell was.
One elderly black woman heard Belltether inquiring about Campbell and piped up, “You leave him alone,” she said. “He’s taking a nap down in the church kitchen. Let the man catch some sleep …”
And with that Belltether immediately charged down the stairs to the busy church basement, where meals were being handed out to
several hundred people. He nosed around until he came to a storage room. He cracked open the door. There, curled up on the floor and snoring, was Pastor Campbell.
“Sorry to bother you,” the reporter announced, even though he really wasn’t sorry and kept nudging the minister until his eyes opened. “Pastor Campbell, I’m Curtis Belltether, the web commentator. I’m doing an exposé on the Global Coalition of Religions and the international climate movement …”
“Belltether?” he replied bleary-eyed. “Oh, yes. I remember …” Campbell slowly rose to his feet and dusted off his wrinkled pants and open shirt. “You’re going to have to follow me while we talk … I can’t sit around for an interview … too much to do …”
“Okay with me. So, first question … the New Jersey bombing. Eight thousand massacred. The missile strike on Israel and the nuclear detonations in Iran … isn’t this starting to look a lot like Armageddon to you?”
“Armageddon?” Campbell said, as he patted a few volunteers on the back as he walked past. “Hardly. What you’re seeing right now are simply shadows of things to come.”
“How can you tell?”
“Israel will be attacked …”
“Already happened. Come on, I’m sure you’ve read the news …”
“No, you don’t understand, Mr. Belltether. The Bible has already told us precisely what is about to occur. Iran’s missile attack against Israel was not it … no … the Bible tells us explicitly about a coming war against Israel. The real thing hasn’t started yet. But I do read the news, Mr. Belltether, and I believe we will be seeing the beginning of the end unfolding very soon.”
Campbell was a fast walker, so much so that Belltether was having a hard time keeping up as they made their way across the church basement, up the stairs, and through the sanctuary. A young Asian man interrupted them to give Campbell a quick report on the church’s project to help the New Jersey families impacted by the blast. When he left, Campbell smiled as he pointed to him. “See the young guy there? He stopped by one day to listen to a press conference I was holding here at the church. He never left.”
Then Campbell turned to Belltether and put his hands on both of his shoulders.
“Listen to me carefully … the Bible tells us that the war against Israel will be a defining moment that marks the end of the age — the beginning of the last chapter of life on earth as we have known it. Then it also tells us
who
it is who will be waging war against Israel … and even something beyond that …” Campbell’s index finger was pointing straight up in the air. His face was illuminated by some interior flame. “Mr. Belltether, the Bible tells us exactly
how
God is going to miraculously intervene. It explains very plainly
how
He is going to do it. And when God intervenes, when that happens, I guarantee you, my friend, it is going to be a wonder to behold …”
Belltether wasn’t going to let it rest there. Sure, he considered Campbell and his fundamentalist prophecy cronies to be crackpots. But he did believe that the real-life formation of a United Nations – backed world religious coalition, one that in lightning speed had gained the support of the most powerful nations on earth, well, that was something surprising, even to him. And in the background, as Belltether was beginning to realize, a few interesting personalities were pulling the strings. He knew that to get Campbell’s take on all that, he would have to endure the pastor’s ramblings about the end of the world.
So he asked the question that even a cub reporter would ask … the billion-dollar question: “Tell me, Rev. Campbell, who’s going to invade Israel? And exactly what is God planning to do about it? I’d like to hear.”
Campbell swung open the front doors of the church, the daylight poured in, and he stepped outside. The pastor turned and said to Belltether, “Anyone who really wants to know had better have ears to hear …”
“Hear what?”
Pastor Campbell answered with only two words. Belltether had no idea what they meant. At least not then.
The two words were:
Ezekiel’s thunder.
With Moscow’s coffers replenished by the global oil boom, Adm. Vladimir Masorin, Russia’s naval commander, has announced ambitious plans to expand the country’s primary Black Sea base and establish a “permanent presence” in the eastern Mediterranean for the first time since the Cold War.
Washington Times, August 7, 2007
Russian Federation Navy group’s frigate “Ladny” and deep-sea tug “Shakhter” will make stops at the naval base of Taranto from 5 to 8 and Augusta from 13 to 15 September… . The presence of the naval group in the Mediterranean, belonging to the Black Sea fleet, is part of the development of international cooperation between the Italian Navy and the Russian Federation.
World Aeronautical Press Agency, September 2, 2010
A Russian flag in the center of Jerusalem, in such close proximity to the Holy Sepulcher, is priceless.
Sergei Stepashin, former Russian prime minister
and security police general
In the Situation Room of the White House, Secretary of Defense Roland Allenworth was using a red-dot laser pointer. He was aiming it at a digital wall map of the world, sending the iridescent dot to several points throughout Russia, over to its neighboring republics, across the Mediterranean, to points in the Middle East, and then to northern Africa.
President Tulrude had planned on devoting the majority of the national security meeting to the nuclear attacks on U.S. soil, both the New Jersey massacre and the foiled attempt in Virginia. She had a plan and a political “solution” she wanted to float once again as a cure for these terror attacks. If she could get her national security staff behind it, she could roll it out for America, and she would be viewed as its champion-in-chief. Now Allenworth’s report about this Russian thing was a distraction. Her tone was clipped. “So what’s the conclusion, Secretary Allenworth?”
“Madam President, we’re not sure yet. We are trying to locate a pattern to these large troop movements of Russia and its federation, as well as some of the Islamic nations. It’s a complicated picture. There are intense naval movements as well. We’re looking for some logical symmetry to them. Our agents are picking up Russian communiqués that indicate this is just a coordinated set of ‘war games,’ but the question is whether they’re giving us a false lead.”
“So, you have nothing definitive? Fine. Then keep us apprised …”
Admiral William Patch, the national security advisor to former
president Corland, raised a finger to speak. Tulrude didn’t care for him, and she knew that the buzzer was about to sound on Patch’s tenure now that Corland was out of the picture. And Patch knew it as well. “I think,” Patch said, “that the secretary’s warnings are not just theoretical. This could be a major military engagement, possibly to expand the Russian Federation, maybe as a counterpunch against Israel now that it has fended off Iran’s attack …”
But the secretary of state threw a disgusted look at Patch. “What would Russia possibly have to gain by that? Russia would have to be concerned about our reaction to a military offensive like that. Besides, thanks to Madam President’s deft diplomacy, our relations with Russia are superb. They’ve increased oil allotments to the U.S. It’s all good …”
President Tulrude broke in. “Admiral Patch, our ambassador told me just yesterday that he believes Russia was probably going to flex its muscles in that region just to keep Israel and Iran from escalating an already nightmarish nuclear exchange that has occurred between those nations. Frankly, having Russia play policeman in that region is fine with me. The United States has enough problems of our own. We don’t need to do that job. In fact, right after the Natanz and Bushehr attacks, didn’t the EU Parliament even call for Russia to play — what was the wording — I think it was something like ‘the firmest possible security role to ensure peace in the Mediterranean.’ Along those lines. Am I right, people? This isn’t unusual. Russia’s been playing an increasing naval role in the Mediterranean over the last decade. Furthermore, two days ago, as a gesture of goodwill, the Russian prime minister pledged one half billion dollars in Russian aid to help rebuild the New Jersey area and outlying areas. Does that sound like a country that wants to offend us?”
“No,” Secretary of Defense Allenworth replied with a smooth-as-glass calm in his voice. “That sounds like a country who wants to bribe us.”
Tulrude exploded with a loud caterwaul. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
Admiral Patch started to speak, but Tulrude cut him off. “You people would be the first to criticize me if I ignored American interests in favor of some tiny nation in the Middle East. But here I am, saying
that America has suffered a nuclear attack, so let’s look to our own interests and not waste our time on some tiny nation in the Middle East.”
“By that,” Admiral Patch said, “you’re referring to Israel? America’s long-standing ally in a hostile area of the world?”
“Wake up, Admiral!” Tulrude snapped. “We have other allies. Arab allies. Russian allies. Global allies. United Nations as an ally. Check your calendar. This isn’t the 1950s.”
The room fell quiet. Tulrude said, “Now for a very timely matter. I’m happy to report that Congress is getting close to being able to pass my key proposal, the National Security through Identification Act. And I want you all on board with this.”
Helen Brokested, the director of Homeland Security, jumped in. “This legislation is brilliant. It mandates a biological identification tag imprint on the body of every American citizen. The BIDTag. Madam President, you have extolled its virtues before — in this very room, as a matter of fact, when you were vice president. The BIDTag would have stopped those nuclear murderers who set off the bomb in Union Beach and the terror cell in the Shenandoah … and the Mall of America bombing, as well as the Chicago air disaster. We could have identified each of them when they passed through the airports and train stations and public buildings, because they wouldn’t have had their BIDTag imprints. Or if they did, then their backgrounds, criminal records, associations — all of it would have instantly shown up on our screens. This is an idea, Madam President, whose time has truly come.”
Tulrude basked in the accolade. “I really do believe this is going to revolutionize national security. By imprinting every lawful American citizen with a tiny laser tattoo, invisible to the eye, painless, that contains all of their biological and personal identification data, criminal record, international travel data, we can screen them, and then we can instantly weed out the bad eggs from the good. After all, people do that when they go grocery shopping don’t they?”
A few of her advisors laughed and nodded. Admiral Patch wasn’t one of them.
Tulrude put a finer, much more somber point on it. “Eight thousand
Americans dead, ladies and gentlemen, in New Jersey. And the number is growing. Our citizens want some assurance of safety. And I am the President who is about to give it to them.”
At Hawk’s Nest, Abigail was finishing up a phone call with Harry Smythe, her attorney. “Any more news about Josh?” Harry asked.
“No, not since the last call from Rocky Bridger, when he confirmed that Josh had been rescued and was out of Iran, thank the Lord.”
“Abby, I’m so sorry all of this is falling down on your head.”
“I’m trying to focus on the positive … Josh is safe. Deborah is okay. I talked to her. She’s tucked away in a friendly condo outside of Jerusalem. We’re working on getting her out of Israel … but, well, Deb is just like her dad — strong-willed. She’s refusing to leave without her father. I guess I can’t blame her …”
“Well, I’ll let you know,” Harry said wrapping up the reason for the call, “the minute I find out anything about a criminal indictment against you on your involvement in the nuclear incident in New Jersey. Right now it’s hard to know where this thing is going.”
Abigail’s voice cracked. “All those thousands of people. Innocent people in that little town. Killed. And I can’t shake the feeling that I’m the one responsible. Harry the nightmares I have, every night, night after night …”
Harry got tough. “Look Abby. Two things are true. First, terrorists drove that bomb into New Jersey, not you. Get that straight in your head. If Josh were here he’d say the same thing. Brave men tried to stop it. You gave the order, but they volunteered. And brave men died trying. And it looks like the nuke would have gotten into the heart of New York City had it not been for you. And second, where was our government? Why does it take a semiretired lawyer in her log cabin in the Rockies to try to stop a nuclear attack?”
Harry’s tone softened just a little. “Abby, you’re putting up a brave front, but I can hear the anguish underneath.” But then the quintessential Harry Smythe came out. The ‘I told you so,’ coming from an attorney who never liked the idea of the Roundtable in the first place.
“I just want you to recall, Abby, that you told me yourself that you knew the legal risks. You knew the Roundtable could be prosecuted by a hostile, motivated Department of Justice. Now it’s come home to roost. ”
She didn’t like to hear that, but Harry was right.
After she hung up, she noticed that Cal had slipped out onto the porch and was standing next to her.
“Any news?”
“No,” Abby said. “Harry’s waiting to see if the grand jury’s going to issue an indictment against me and the Roundtable.”
“You’re a hero, Mom. So is Dad. But I guess that doesn’t mean anything.”
But Abigail didn’t feel like a hero. She had blood on her hands. And the weight of that thought was almost too much to bear. “We do everything we can do. Even when it ends … in terrible disaster. Then all we can do is stand and wait on the Lord. No matter how difficult …” She had to choke back tears.
Cal put his hand on his mother’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Any news about Dad?”
She regained her composure. “Nothing new. Cal, where in the world is Josh right now? Where?”