The Illuminati (40 page)

“Jeff, I've got a problem. Take a look and tell me what you think it is.”

Jeff stepped over to Karen's station.“What's up?” he smiled at the cute frown on her face.

“I don't know,” she replied, instructing the system to print a hard copy of the file. “Something has cropped up in the middle of the files I was compiling. Maybe it's some bad memory.”

“No, it couldn't be that,” Jeff said as he watched the printer spewing out several sheets of data. “The system would patch around the bad memory and send a message to maintenance to replace the defective core.”

As he picked up the printed pages, he whispered to Karen, “It's a message from your father!”

“A message! How could . . .”

“Shhh,” Jeff put his finger to his lips. Then he walked over to his briefcase and removed a small device with an antenna. Flipping on the switch he said, “It's okay now. I scrambled their transmitter.”

Down the hall, in the monitoring room, the agent ripped off the headset, cursing, “It's doing it again,” he griped to the other agent lounging in a chair nearby.

“Probably static from something in the building. Try another frequency.”

“I did,” the first agent said angrily. “The static seems to be on every channel.”

“Must be in the building's power system then. Just file a report and let maintenance handle it. We've been at this for weeks now and they haven't done anything but work. So what's the point anyway?”

Back in Jeff's office, Karen voiced her astonishment.“What do you mean, a message? How could Daddy send a message? Could it be a computer error message?”

“No, Karen. The computer would send any error messages through the system printer. It's in hex. Someone is talking through the compiler in machine language. That could only be your father. It's a code we used to use.”

“Can you interpret it?” Karen was trying to comprehend what Jeff was saying. How was it possible for her father to talk to them?

Jeff was already at his computer typing. “Normally we use the data base and it converts our instructions over to machine language—in this case, hex. So I've instructed the compiler to convert the hex to English.”

Jeff called up the conversion routine, and suddenly a message appeared on the screen: “Karen, great danger for you and Jeff. Contact me at station two, Dad.”

“It is from Daddy!” Karen exclaimed. “How is that possible?”

“Back when I was first designing Data-Net, your father and I discussed the feasibility of simultaneous processors and how the main controller would need to function. We would often transmit ideas via Data-Net, through the compiler itself. I thought I had closed the port a long time ago. Apparently your father figured out a way to reopen it. Station two is another system console I enabled in his facility. He's a pretty crafty old programmer himself,” Jeff said admiringly. “I don't think there is another programmer in the world who could have reopened the port directly into Data-Net's memory banks. With access to the internal compiler, anyone could input data and defeat the monitoring system. Having access to the compiler on Data-Net is a little like being able to withdraw money from the world's biggest bank, without any record of it.”

“Can you reach Daddy now?” Karen asked breathlessly.

“I think so,” Jeff said, as he typed more instructions into the system. “First I want to be sure that the data is encrypted in both directions and the calls are not recorded. As far as Data-Net is concerned, no one will ever know we communicated.”

As soon as his instructions were compiled, Jeff typed in: “Hi, Dr. Eison, how are you?”

“Good, Jeff,” came an almost instant reply. “Is Karen there?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeff typed in the reply. “What's wrong?”

“I have information vital to you and Karen,” Dr. Eison responded. What had sparked his need to contact Jeff was what he had seen and heard from several close colleagues around the country. They reported friends and associates being arrested and held without appeal. Some suggested that internment camps had been set up in various parts of the country to hold political prisoners. He had discounted the reports as just rumors until the incident with Jeff and Karen. Then he knew something was terribly wrong. He had begun a systematic check of friends he knew were Christians or Jews. He was alarmed to discover that several were missing, along with their families.

As his inquiries widened, he began to exercise extreme caution. He had seen the ruthless manner in which the secret service acted with him, and he had no doubts that they were capable of more. What he didn't realize was that a group outside the federal agencies had carefully monitored the progress of his investigation.

The group monitoring Dr. Eison decided to take a chance that he was on the level, since he was checking on the whereabouts of some colleagues who were missing. It was clear he was not conducting a formal investigation.

Bill Eison was tired and frightened about what he had discovered. He did not fear for himself; he was long past worrying about his own safety, but Karen . . . that was another matter. One evening he entered his motel room in Washington where he was attending a meeting on Star Cluster and as soon as he opened the door, he saw the outline of someone in the room shadowed against the dim light of the setting sun.

“Who's there?” Eison demanded as he reached for the light switch.

“Please don't turn on the lights, Doctor,” the shadowy figure asked politely. “I would prefer that you didn't see my face just yet.”

Eison complied and sat down in his big easy chair. “What do you want?” he asked. He was surprised to discover that he was unafraid. The events of the last several months seemed to have drained him of all emotions.
Or maybe I'm just too angry to care
, he thought.

“Doctor, I know you have been making inquiries about some colleagues of yours. I have information that may be helpful. Do you know a Dr. Epps?”

“Paul Epps? Sure. He's an old friend from the space program. Why?”

“I have a letter from Dr. Epps. He said you would know that he wrote it.”With that he handed Eison a handwritten note.

Dear Bill:

Just so you'll know it is really me writing this, I wanted to remind you of our camping trip in 1960. Remember when we decided to catch the friend who had wandered into the camp—the perfumed friend?

Eison smiled at the memory. He and three other students had been camping out in Yosemite when a skunk, drawn by the smell of food, had wandered into camp. Paul Epps told the others that, being a farm boy, he knew if you caught a skunk by its tail and held it up high, it couldn't spray you. Eison, being young and gullible, grabbed the creature by its tail and hoisted it off the ground. The skunk, who was unaware of Paul's theory, promptly sprayed them all with its pungent odor—dead center. They missed several days of classes as overly sensitive professors commanded the stinking students to depart their classrooms. Even with tomato juice baths, the odor lingered for more than a week.

Eison read on. He had no doubt the letter was authentic.

Because they are Jewish, some of my family have been detained in a camp outside of Phoenix. Bill, these are fine people whose only crime is that they are Jews
.

I fear that we're seeing a repeat of what happened in Germany during World War II. If you can help the man who brings this letter, I encourage you to do so. It is possible that I will be arrested myself
.

Eison put the letter down. He was visibly shaken.

“Do you believe the letter, Doctor?” the visitor asked.

“Yes, I do. I knew Paul well. It's just hard to believe this is really happening. We are not Germany. We don't detain innocent citizens.”

“I'm sure many people in Germany said the same thing, Doctor. But they waited until it was too late to do anything.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I believe you know Jeff Wells?”

“Yes, I worked with him on the earthquake program. My daughter is working as his assistant now.”

“I understand he is the designer of the system known as Data-Net. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Eison replied. He knew that if the man were a government agent, he had just signed a long prison sentence.

“Our sources tell us that Mr. Wells attempted to contact you when he began to have doubts about the use of his work. We also believe that he is the key to helping a lot of innocent people get their freedom back.”

“What can I do?” Eison repeated as he thought about the horror of Nazi Germany being replayed in the United States.
There will be no one to come to our rescue
, he thought grimly,
not like the U.S. did for Europe
.

“We need someone whom Wells will trust to contact him. He is in grave danger and, as soon as Data-Net is fully operational, he and your daughter will be eliminated. Once that happens, the process cannot be reversed.”

“Why would they do that?” Eison said, visibly shaken again. He had assumed Jeff was too valuable to risk harming him.

“He's a threat because he is the one man who can wreck their system. I assure you, Doctor, our sources confirm that Wells will be eliminated as soon as Dr. Loo can run the system.”

“Dr. Loo?” Eison asked. “Do you mean Kim Loo?”

“Yes. He has been brought in to take over management of the system as soon as it is operational.”

Eison knew Kim Loo well. He was a brilliant scientist but politically committed to a one-world government. He had heard Loo discuss the philosophy too many times. Even liberal Berkeley had ousted Loo because of the trouble he stirred up among the students there.

“I'll help. Tell me how.”

“Can you contact Wells so that no one, and I mean no one, will know?”

Eison thought for a moment. Then he answered, “I think so. But what should I tell him?”

“The truth, Doctor. The absolute and dirty truth. His system is being used to control millions of American citizens. If the laser identification system becomes operational, your daughter and Wells will live or die at the government's whim. Right now it's the Christians and Jews. Who knows who will be the next targets?”

That had been two weeks earlier. In the intervening time, Bill Eison had worked feverishly, trying to reopen the channel he and Jeff had used when Data-Net was in the early stages of development. Finally, earlier that day, he had discovered Jeff's password to restart the secret message compiler. It was “Karen.” He immediately sent the coded message Karen had seen on her terminal.

Jeff could scarcely believe what he was reading on the computer screen. Dr. Eison laid out the whole plan, as it had been explained to him. Jeff had guessed parts of the plan, but his mind would not let him believe that the United States government would be rounding up citizens for extermination.

“My God!” Karen exclaimed as she read what her father transmitted. “Is this possible, Jeff?”

“You know your father, Karen. Do you think he could be duped into believing it if it weren't true?”

As she thought about it, she knew he could not. Her father was an absolutist about scientific evidence; he would have verified every detail before telling anyone else.“No, it's true,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes once more.

After a few seconds' pause, Jeff typed in: “What should I do?”

The terminal responded: “Keep options open, and get out of there. Group will contact you with best means of escape.”

“What does that mean?” Karen asked as she saw the final entry.

“It means he wants me to keep the link to terminal two open so we can get into the compiler again later.”

“Can you do it?”Karen asked as Jeff closed the channel to the compiler.

“I honestly don't know. I put every protection I could think of in the main program. It regularly sweeps its files, looking for unauthorized entries. I don't know if it can be defeated. It's like trying to beat yourself at chess.”