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  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It was ten o’clock Wednesday morning on an unusually warm spring day in D.C. when Senator Wellsenburg walked into his office at the Hart Senate Office Building located northeast of the Capitol. The Hart Building is the largest of the Senate office buildings and was named for Philip Hart who served eighteen years as a Michigan senator.

  A quick stroll through the outer rooms of the senator's office revealed scores of mini museums doubling as waiting rooms. The content of the exhibits varied widely, ranging from historical artifacts and sports memorabilia, to expansive ego walls featuring only himself pictured with famous political, sports, and Hollywood personalities. It was obvious that Wellsenburg appeared to have already built his presidential library.

  His personal office featured a moderately sized mahogany desk in front of a floor-to-ceiling library of books ranging from revolutionary war journals to general myths and legends of Babylonia and Assyrian religion and culture. He was very proud of his historical literature collection and considered himself somewhat of an expert on such matters. He was brimming with renewed energy after his meeting with Dante and his various supporters. His focus was clearer than ever. In his mind, he was going to be the next President of the United States, and no one or thing was going to stand in his way.

  The senator closed the door behind him, put his briefcase down next to his desk, and sat back in his high-back leather chair. He closed his eyes and began to replay the last forty-eight hours in his mind. A smile crossed his face, which grew larger and more sinister as all the possibilities danced through his mind. Just the thought of having all that power sent a rush through his body and reminded him of a quote from Henry Kissinger whom he had met and talked to many times. He would say, “Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”

  He had, of course, tasted it from all his years as a U.S. Senator, but now he wanted more. His dream was getting closer to becoming his reality.

  His daydream was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Ms. Venoldy, his secretary.

  He quickly sat up in his chair, “Come in.”

  Ms. Venoldy was thirty-five years old, black hair, green eyes and, as he often remarked privately, very well put together.

  “Senator Wellsenburg, Mr. Toller is here to see you. He said it is urgent, sir.”

  “Send him in.”

  Harry Toller, a tall, well-built man of thirty-eight was Wellsenburg’s eyes and ears around Washington. He was part private eye and part enforcer, depending on the situation, but whatever needed to be done, it was always performed discretely and without a trace. That was what the senator loved about him. What he did not like was what the senator called his dirty habit. Harry loved cigars. Not just any cigars, but fresh off the boat, 100% authentic Habanos. However, he would have to wait until he got outside to light one up.

  “Hello, Harry. What have you got for me?”

  Toller sat down on one of the two vintage club leather armchairs that were positioned in front of Wellsenburg’s desk.

  “I found out who’s been snooping around, asking questions about your relationship with Dante and your involvement with the Sons of Nimrod. It’s some agent from the Paranormal Division named Frank Lederman.”

  “Paranormal Division?” the senator asked bewildered. How could such a classification exist without him knowing about it? The more he thought about it, the more enraged he got - to think that something like that could’ve gotten by him.

  “What the hell is this Paranormal Division and who is this Frank Lederman? Does he work out of D.C.?”

  “Well to answer your last question first, sir, yes. He works out of the Hoover Building here in D.C., and from what I’ve been able to gather, he answers to George Donovan, the head of this new division.”

  Wellsenburg was getting antsy and more and more aggravated with every second that went by. “What about this paranormal nonsense? Who’s responsible for that?”

  “The director of the FBI apparently instituted this division two years ago. It seems there is a lot of interest in paranormal activity here in Washington lately. It reminds me of the Germans in World War II when Hitler went crazy looking for strange artifacts that were supposed to have some mystical powers. Crazy stuff.”

  Wellsenburg gave Toller a nod and look of agreement, when in his head he was thinking, I need to talk to Dante about this.

  “I want you to keep an eye on this Lederman,” Wellsenburg instructed. “No guns, no rough stuff. Remember - he is a Federal agent. I don’t want to kick off a large-scale FBI investigation that might lead back to this office. Just find out where he goes, who he talks to, and what he knows about the society and get back to me. Understood?”

  Toller nodded, confidently, “No problem. I’ll handle it.”

  Wellsenburg put both hands flat on his desk, leaned over, and said, “This has to be our last meeting at my office.” He grabbed a pen, wrote a phone number on a notepad, and gave it to Toller.

  “Call me on this number from now on and, if need be, we’ll set up a place to meet. We need to be careful from here on out.”

  Toller nodded, took it, put the number in his pocket, turned, and walked out the door without saying another word. The senator sat back down in his chair and thought to himself, The game is afoot. He reached in his pocket, pulled out his burner phone, and called Dante. He knew Dante would know what to do about all this.

  “My good senator, good to hear from you. Trouble?”

  Dante knew there had to be a good reason for him to call on this line.

  “I just found out that the FBI has a new division looking into paranormal activity and they are poking around asking questions about me and the society. I thought you should know.”

  “I am aware of some interference around D.C., but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  The senator was more than a little nervous. He couldn’t afford to have anything interfere with his run for president. “Listen, Dante,” Wellsenburg said, “this thing needs to be handled right away. It will get sticky around here if this gets out.”

  Back in L.A., Dante rolled his eyes, trying not to lose his temper. “Senator, I have taken care of every detail up to now so there’s no need to worry.”

  Wellsenburg felt very uneasy talking to Dante this way. He was walking a tightrope between offending Dante, which could be very dangerous, and dealing with the fear of someone exposing things that he didn’t want anyone to know about… things that would cause him to lose the most important opportunity of his life.

  “You have taken care of everything so far. I just need to know for sure that this is taken care of. I hope you understand.” He really, really hoped he understood.

  “Let me put your mind at ease. Frank Lederman and Jack Bennett, right? These are the two men you are worried so much about.”

  The senator was shocked. “How did you know about Lederman, and who is Jack Bennett?” That was a name that he had never heard before.

  “Lederman is not the problem, at least not right now. Our biggest nemesis is Bennett, but like I said, I am working on it. Whatever trouble they create, we can fix. I am coming to D.C. next week. We’ll talk more then.”

  Dante wanted to say, “Bennett and the prayer group,” but he didn’t want to confuse Wellsenburg. He wouldn’t understand it anyway.

  “I’ve got to go. Just relax. There’s no need to jump the gun. I’ll be in touch.”

  With that, Dante hung up. Senator Wellsenburg put his phone back in his inside jacket pocket, swallowed hard, and hoped Dante was right. He sat up in his chair and stared out into space. He picked up a pen, slid his notepad over, and wrote two words. Jack Bennett.

  He would have to find out just who this guy was and why Dante knew him. Ironically, Wellsenburg did not like being kept in the dark.

  The silence was broken by Ms. Venoldy’s voice coming over the intercom.

  “Senator Wellsenburg, Senator Daniel Colson is here to see you and, I must warn you, he seems very agitated, sir.”
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  Colson was a conservative senator from Arkansas, which would have been enough to qualify him as Wellsenburg’s number one nemesis. To make matters worse, he was also a “Born Again Christian” who believed there was a conspiracy afoot to rid America of Bible believing Christians like himself. This would not be their first confrontation.

  “Fine. Send him in,” he said reluctantly.

  Colson came storming through the door and stood right in front of Wellsenburg’s desk. He looked as though he was about to explode.

  “Senator, we need to talk! There is a battle brewing over religious freedom laws and I understand you plan on sponsoring a bill that would demand that churches all over America marry any gay couple that petitions them, despite their Biblical and foundational beliefs that a marriage is between a man and a woman. If any church does not comply with that law, they should be disbanded and no longer allowed to operate as a place of worship? Is this accurate, sir?”

  Wellsenburg sat back in his chair and smiled like the cat that just ate the canary.

  “You need to calm down, Senator,” Wellsenburg said condescendingly. “You know you can’t listen to every idle rumor that makes its way down these hallowed halls here in Washington. I admit I am concerned for every American’s rights and, at this time, I am endeavoring to protect my gay constituents’ rights to marry as they wish, but I see no conspiracy in that, Senator. I am just doing the job I was elected to do.”

  Colson eyes widened. He was a seasoned politician and he knew when he was getting a snow job. He grew more enraged.

  “You and your leftist cohorts, sir, have gotten very good at hiding your true agendas. You wish to divide this country and put the blame on those who love the Lord. What about their rights to worship God and live according to the gospel of Christ? My sources have confirmed that there is already a movement on the state level to revoke non-profit status for religious organizations that do not abide by same-sex marriage. I know you and your associates won't stop until there are no more churches; until there are no more people who are spreading the Gospel of love and forgiveness through Jesus Christ. And I'm talking now about the unabridged, unapologetic gospel; the one that tells both sides of the story; the one you want to see abolished.”

  Wellsenburg didn’t think it was possible, but he hated this guy a little more every time he opened his mouth. He knew Colson could see right through his rhetoric, but now was not the time to confirm or reveal anything. In his heart, he couldn’t wait for the day when Colson and all those who thought like him were either behind bars or...

  He stopped himself and refocused.

  “Senator, I assure you I have never heard of such things, nor do I believe anyone else has any such plans. I simply believe that all discrimination should be banned from our great country. Are you against all gay people, sir?”

  Senator Colson stood up straight and looked directly into Wellsenburg’s eyes. He knew the senator would love to paint him as a crazed, hate mongrel. Colson’s eyes burned like lasers, narrowing in on his opponent.

  “No, I am not, Senator! I am friendly with many gay people. I represent all my constituents, sir. All I’m saying is, let’s have equal rights for all Americans. I may not personally agree with the court’s decision, Senator, but I am sworn to uphold it and I will do so.

  “I’m sure you remember those poor people in Oregon that refused to make a wedding cake for a lesbian couple. They lost their business and their very livelihood. They didn’t have any rights, did they, Senator? You say there is no conspiracy, then let me ask you a question. Suppose it was a Muslim family who owned that business? Would everyone have acted in the same manner? Islam is clear in its prohibition of homosexual acts. I assure you Senator, there is a conspiracy to use gay rights to bring down Biblical Christianity, and I will not let you or anyone else get away with it. I will be watching. You can count on that. In case you have forgotten the first amendment, Senator, I leave you with this: ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances,’” Colson quoted.

  With that, Senator Colson stormed out of the office. Wellsenburg was seething with anger. He slammed his hand down on the intercom. “Ms. Venoldy, call my driver. I will be out of the office for a few hours. I do not wish to be disturbed unless it’s a real emergency.”

  “Yes, sir. Very good.” There was no mystery in Ms. Venoldy’s mind as to why he was leaving the office.

  Wellsenburg needed to take a walk and gather his thoughts before he said or did something that would endanger his ultimate plans. He walked out of the office and down the hall that overlooked the lobby and got into the elevator. He desperately wanted to call Dante again, but he knew it would only make him look weak and needy and his pride wouldn’t let that happen. He decided to hold off until next week and talk to him in person when he arrived in Washington.

  The elevator door opened and Wellsenburg walked out onto the large marble-floored atrium, passing the huge 39-ton steel “Mountains and Clouds” sculpture. Above it, suspended from the roof, were matte black aluminum clouds, the largest of which weighed one ton. It was quite a sight to see for most visitors, but to him, it had become invisible. He had many thoughts running through his head as he walked out the entrance doors onto Second Street, but the one that kept playing over and over again in his head was what he had just heard from Dante Adal. “Our biggest nemesis is Bennett.”

  Just then, his driver pulled up. Senator Wellsenburg walked up to the car. His driver quickly got out, walked around the car, and opened the door for him.

  “Where to, sir?”

  “Take me to the club, Ralph. I need a break.”

  “Yes, sir. No problem.”

  Wellsenburg got into the car and took a deep breath in an effort to relax, but he couldn’t shake the thought. He kept asking himself, Why would someone as powerful as Dante Adal be concerned about a nobody like this Jack Bennett? Even though Dante told him he would handle it, he wanted to know everything he could about this mystery man, so he pulled out his phone and Googled his name.

  A picture came up and then a short description. “Jack Bennett, author of Paranormal Activity and the daily blog, The Growing Evil on Planet Earth.”

  Suddenly, he made the connection. Paranormal Activity, he thought. That’s what Harry Toller was talking about. He mentioned Frank Lederman and said he was an agent with the new Paranormal Division of the FBI. He remembered that Dante had put those two names together. Now it was coming into focus. Jack Bennett must be working with Lederman. He couldn’t let them connect him to the Sons of Nimrod. Not yet anyway. Not until he became President. After that, he figured it wouldn’t matter.

  His mind was racing. What kind of power does this Jack Bennett have? Is he a real threat? And why didn’t Dante tell him about this before? He was determined to find out and, if need be, he would take care of the situation himself. He sat back in his seat and stared at the phone that displayed the image of his new adversary.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning and CJ’s was hopping. Emily was working hard trying to keep up with all the orders when Jack came in carrying his briefcase. Last night, Jack had asked her to save them a table towards the back of the café away from the windows where they usually sat. She asked why, but Jack said he wasn’t sure. It was just what Frank had asked for. Emily usually didn’t like those kinds of answers. She liked to be kept in the loop, especially now that she knew what Jack and Frank were involved in, but she knew Jack would tell her if he thought it was important.

  She motioned to Jack, pointing to the table against the wall in the back corner of the café. Jack walked over and sat down. He knew Emily would bring a carafe filled with hot coffee as soon as she could. He put his briefcase on the floor next to him and placed his phone on the table an
d waited for Frank. He didn’t have to wait long. Frank walked in, spotted him immediately, and walked over to the table.

  “Hey, Frank. We’re getting a little mysterious these days. I get this weird text message last night to meet you here for breakfast, like it’s the first time we’ve done this. You got Emily all freaked out. What’s up?”

  Frank quickly glanced around the room and said, “I’m being followed.”

  Jack looked puzzled. “Followed? By who?”

  “I’m not sure just yet, but I picked up on it yesterday afternoon when I was in D.C.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe we’re all just getting a little paranoid. I mean there has been a lot of crazy stuff going on lately.”

  Frank gave Jack an are-you-serious look, then said, “I know when I’m being shadowed. I think it’s about my questions concerning Senator Wellsenburg and the Sons of Nimrod. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “Do you think he followed you here?”

  “Yes, I do. That’s why I had us sit here on a busy Saturday morning. It’s more difficult to use audio listening devices in a small crowded room like this, especially with us sitting so far back from the street.”

  Jack put his elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead. “Wait a minute. So you’re not just being followed, you believe someone is using full -blown surveillance techniques on you?”

  “It’s a good possibility. We know Wellsenburg is going to pursue the Democratic nomination for President so it makes sense that he would not want anything that would damage his chances to get out. Think about it. What if our little investigation somehow proves that Wellsenburg had something to do with the deaths of the Oslows? We know they were big contributors to his senatorial campaign thirty years ago and we know they were involved in this secret society thing. I can see the headlines now? Dead, Middle-Eastern Mystery Couple Gave Millions to Wellsenburg Campaign.”

  Frank could see Emily coming with the coffee so he abruptly stopped talking.