Rise of the Beast (56 page)

It was early that Sunday morning, long before the thing that occupied Krissie’s flesh had awakened, that he had journeyed to Brooklyn. Pastor Smith was not difficult to find. He was in his study at the church. He seemed genuinely surprised to see Leland.

Leland was truly desperate at that point. His soul was so filled with the filth and spiritual decay he’d been exposed to the past few years. They talked for nearly two hours. He told him everything. Leland was, in turn, surprised to discover just how much Reverend Smith knew of this whole affair.

Before he was through, Leland had fallen to his knees in grief. “How can God forgive me for what I’ve done?” He wept. “I’ve given Satan himself the means to rule our world. Even before that, I was a pimp. I sold drugs, and I encouraged women to sell themselves for money. I’m a real piece of work.”

“Christ died for sinners,” said Smith. “He didn’t come here for the righteous. You’ve just given Him your heart and soul; now comes the most difficult part.
You’ve got to serve him on a day-to-day basis in the darkest place in our world. God will give you a way to derail Lusan’s plans. You, Leland, are in a unique position to do just that.” The pastor glanced over at the clock on his desk. “I wish you would stay for service.”

“It’s just too risky,” said Leland. “I don’t want that thing in Krissie to get suspicious. Anyway, I can’t chance someone seeing me here.”

“I understand,” replied Smith. “I’m glad you’re finally with us.”

Leland nodded as he headed for the door. He had a difficult journey ahead, yet he knew he had started down this road himself. Now he’d have to complete it.

By the time September had arrived, Lusan was on the road again. This time his travels took him to Europe. He was met like a champion of the people. In Berlin, a small and quiet demonstration by a group of local Christians protesting Lusan’s arrival turned violent as counterprotesters clashed with them. Within minutes, 37 people, mostly the demonstrating Christian’s, lay dead in the street. Public opinion had turned against them, and it was getting worse.

The mob had crossed the line, and they would cross it still further. Before the evening was through, they would burn churches and drag known Christians from their homes, beating them to death. Some would fight back, yet this only fanned the flames. Not since 1938 on the night of broken glass, had the likes of this been seen. Before order was restored, the death toll had soared to over a thousand.

In an impassioned speech, the new European Union president spoke with regret of the incident in Berlin. He asked the people of Europe to be tolerant. Yet at the same time, he spoke against a policy of hate, and he openly stated that the source of that hate was these evangelical Christians.

Europe, Germany in particular, had seen this whole thing before. Nearly a hundred years ago, in the midst of rising anti-Semitism, the value of the life of a Jew had become tragically cheap. They had become the focus point for a beaten-down nation’s frustration and wrath. Now, with the memories of the great, global meltdown still fresh in the memories of the people, it was happening again. Humanity’s memory was short indeed.

To the man of reason, the parallels were undeniable. The problem was—men of reason were in short supply these days. Now with over half of the people of Europe in Lusan’s camp, things were likely to grow worse. Things were little better in Latin America and Asia. Despite China’s efforts to stem the growing madness, its people revered Lusan’s words over the rhetoric of the party. Christians there had become used to being treated with something less than respect, but now matters were worse.

Yet in England, the United States, and a few other smaller hold-out nations of the world, Lusan’s message was met with skepticism. And these were the same places where another breed of miracle was being felt. These nations were in the midst of a Christian revival. Yes, Lusan had a hold in these nations, but it was not as great as in the rest of the world, and in some places he was starting to lose ground. In the American South and Midwest, there was a revival in progress like none the nation had ever seen. In the Middle East, another sort of rebellion against Lusan was taking place. Elements within the world of Islam were also rebelling against Lusan, though this rebellion took on a distinctly more belligerent flavor. Lusan was not bringing peace to the world. Clearly, the world was on a collision course with disaster.

Through the whole thing Leland was there, crunching the numbers from his office, gathering the information that might one day expose Lusan for what he truly was. And watching him every step of the way was Krissie. On the outside, she seemed so much like she had once been. The demon within her was doing a better job these days. At times she even seemed loving and caring, almost like herself, and for a time, Leland could forget what she had become.

Yet all too quickly, she could turn around and speak of the Christian blight on society. She spoke of the wonders that might be accomplished in their absence. Perhaps isolating or confining them was the answer. Perhaps more radical means of neutralizing them might be justified. It was language that seemed so foreign coming from her lips. When she spoke like that, Leland found ways to be out of the house.

And his grandmother appeared to him in his dreams. Through her, he knew that Krissie was safe, at least for the moment. That knowledge helped him focus upon what had to be done in the here and now.

Leland gathered information about Lusan, damning information. He passed it on to Pastor Smith who saw that it, in turn, was passed on to the proper authorities. Leland longed for an end to it all. Someone had to stand in Lusan’s way. He only prayed that someone would step forward soon.

Detective Strom and Lieutenant Stoddard sat across the desk from the commissioner in his downtown office. The commissioner was still pondering the pile of documents set before him.

“You’re serious,” he finally said. “You want to charge this Andre Lusan with murder, accomplice to murder, money laundering, racketeering, and being in this country illegally. Have I left anything out?”

“Attempted kidnapping,” said Strom.

“Oh,” said the commissioner, “I missed that one.” He leaned back in his chair. “My god, man, do you have any idea how well connected this guy is? I mean, he might as well be the Pope.”

“We can prove every charge,” said Stoddard. “Detective Strom has been working on this case for years. He and his family were nearly killed over it. This Lusan is a menace. No, he is even worse than that.”

“From what you’re saying, you’d think that he was the Devil himself,” noted the commissioner.

Strom practically bit his tongue to keep from saying something foolish. No, he wouldn’t hurt his case, not now.

There was a pause. “Look, I don’t like this guy either,” said the commissioner. “I’m a good Catholic. I go to mass every Sunday, but I sense something spiritually wrong with this guy. My priest tries to be politically correct, but he senses it too.” Again there was a pause. “I’m sticking my head way out on this one, but I’ll authorize it. Arresting the most popular religious figure since Jesus Christ—it almost makes me look like Caiaphas, doesn’t it?”

“No,” said Strom. “You’re doing the right thing. Your children and grandchildren will thank you.”

The commissioner shook his head. “My own son follows this guy. He thinks that Lusan is some kind of saint. I’ll let history be my judge. Go ahead, do the paperwork; pick him up, but do it by the numbers, by the book.”

“Yes sir,” said Stoddard, as he and Strom rose to their feet. They headed out the door, through the secretary’s office, and down the hall.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” said Strom, “I owe you big time.”

“For what?” asked Stoddard. “It was good police work, some of the best I’ve ever seen. You’ve got your ducks in a row, Bill. Lusan is guilty all right. It will be interesting to see how he rules this spiritual empire of his from behind bars.”

Lusan offered up no fight as he was escorted from the Davidson building in handcuffs. Despite every effort to make this as quiet an arrest as possible, an array of reporters were on hand just outside the main door. All were anxious to get a piece of the biggest story of the year.

Lusan was quickly led to the back of a squad car and was whisked away. There was no time for questions and only a fleeting moment for photos. There was rejoicing, crying, and even violence in the streets that afternoon.

By the following day, the news had spread to every corner of the world. In France, protests in front of the American Embassy turned into a rock-and-bottle throwing exhibition. In other European nations, the protests and violence against America and American citizens escalated.

When Lusan’s bail was denied by a New York court, the outcries against America grew even louder. The European Union’s President Julien Devereux spoke out angrily against the arrest of Andre Lusan, calling it an act of Christian American imperialism. He demanded the immediate release of Lusan.

All the while, Lusan sat in his cell on Riker’s Island, a model prisoner, enjoying the show. His enemies had fallen into the trap. They had sewn the wind; now they would reap the whirlwind.

The issue of Andre Lusan was no longer a city issue or even a state issue. It had become an international incident. A week of political bickering and legal wrangling ensued as some of the nation’s best lawyers hopped on either side of the argument. In the end, it was politics that decided Lusan’s fate and not legal precedence. Neither the City of New York nor the United States could afford to put Lusan on trial, and as it turned out, the Country of France filed a request for extradition. It provided the American president with a way out of this political quicksand. She urged the powers that be to deport Lusan, to turn him over to the French authorities.

Ten days after his arrest, he was on his way from New York to Paris, in the custody of the French authorities, with first-class flying accommodations. He was greeted like a returning hero upon his arrival in Paris. A day later, he was cleared of any charges in France. He was free to continue his crusade in the place where his support was the greatest.

The Divine Light Foundation’s offices in New York would be closed, and his offices in Paris would become the center of his spiritual empire. There was no purpose in having the capital of his empire in such a closed-minded and hostile nation as America. He would deal with her people soon enough.

Leland was clearing his desk in his office when he got an unexpected visitor. “Mr. Pagoni,” said Leland rising to his feet.

Pagoni smiled broadly. “How are you doing my boy? It has been too long since we last talked. Please, sit down. The way you jumped to your feet, you’d have thought that his holiness had just entered the room.”

Leland couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. Pagoni’s comment. He quickly pulled up a chair for his landlord and his friend.

“Bad business, all of this,” said Pagoni sitting down across the table from Leland. “Will you be leaving us?”

“Yes sir,” said Leland. “That’s my understanding, anyway. Word is that I’ll be relocating to Paris.”

“Such a shame,” said Pagoni, “and your lovely wife, too?”