Rise of the Beast (65 page)

Still, possession was nine tenths of the law. Lusan was in France, and neither the French government nor the European Union would recognize America’s right to extradition. Still, the accusations themselves had brought some degree of discredit to his ministry and organization. That at least was a start.

Leland had been a part of that organization and had been involved with Pagoni, too. Still, the government viewed him more as a victim than a perpetrator. His only real error was his unwavering faith in this Andre Lusan. In the course of the investigation, he had told all to the FBI and the state and federal
prosecutors. It was a puzzling story indeed, filled with gold from Heaven, demons, and possession. Most of the investigators who heard his incredible story agreed that he was not being intentionally deceptive. They were convinced that he had been the victim of some sort of elaborate smoke and mirrors illusion. Perhaps it had been a trick of the spirits, spirits of a different kind. After all, he had admitted to drinking in excess at the party that night. That certainly wasn’t a crime, but it was an explanation.

Normally, as a potential witness for the prosecution he would not have been allowed to divulge any details of his testimony. Nonetheless, the authorities knew only too well that it would be unlikely that they would ever get Lusan before a judge. Therefore, in a very uncharacteristic move, they had granted Leland wide latitude with only a few restrictions.

When Leland finally stepped up onto the stage at the evening revival meeting in the Chicago Convention Center, he stood before an audience of nearly 10,000. All eyes were upon the handsome, well-dressed man before them.

There was anticipation in the air. Few people knew much about this enigmatic figure. Most knew of his wife, the long-time spokeswoman for Lusan’s organization. But Leland had been in the background, in the shadows, though from all accounts, he had wielded significant influence within the organization. Serena had introduced him as Lusan’s former head of finance and closest human confidant.

It seemed strange to Leland that she had used the phrase human confidant. Apparently she had sensed what was to come, knew what it was that he had to say.

“I may be the greatest sinner this modern world has known,” began Leland. “My wife and I helped bring the current darkness upon the land, though many may refer to the darkness as light. And I humbly ask for your forgiveness for what I have done.”

Leland’s voice was certain and powerful, the sort of voice that commands attention from its very nature alone, notwithstanding the message. Never had anyone come forth with such an incredible eyewitness account regarding Andre Lusan. Particularly riveting was the telling of the events of that first night, the night he and Krissie had met Lusan.

Leland softened the blow of the events of that first night by openly admitting that he had been drinking. Perhaps some of what happened had been a sort
of illusion, though he doubted it. Still, the deaths of those kids in Central Park were only too real, and it had been Lusan and Duras who had killed them.

Half an hour later, when it was all said and done, he left his audience in shock. He had just confirmed their worst nightmares. He could only imagine what they truly felt inside. Did they even believe him?

Believable or not, his comments made the religious section of both the Chicago
Tribune
and the Chicago
Sun Times
the next day. He had started a firestorm of controversy. More incredible still, there were eyewitnesses to many of the incredible events of which he spoke.

Lusan supporters picketed the revival meeting the very next day, and within an hour, clashes were reported with the police and with attendees of the meeting. Leland’s comments had brought to the forefront a fear that had been only murmurings a few days before. His words spread quickly across the map as more news agencies latched onto it.

On the second night of the conference, Leland spoke again. He seemed very unyielding. No, he meant every word of what he had said. The Devil himself walked among us.

Before leaving Chicago, he had been interviewed by a talk radio station, three newspapers, a television talk show, and three television news programs. If people did view him as some sort of religious nut, nuts were apparently popular.

By the last night of services at the convention center, Leland was exhausted. The experience had been both physically and mentally draining to him.

“And you two have been doing this for almost ten years?” asked Leland as he and his hosts got back to the RV.

“That’s about right,” confirmed Chris, preparing for their departure tomorrow.

“You don’t get home often?” asked Leland.

“No,” said Serena. “We have this wonderful rock house in Oregon. Oh, how I love to be there. But we seldom are. What we do on the road is too important.”

“The same home you mentioned in your book?” asked Leland.

“You’ve read our book?” asked Chris.

“Absolutely,” confirmed Leland. “I read it just a couple nights after your wife came to my office with my grandmother’s electronic journal.”

“The same house,” replied Serena. “I can’t tell you how many times I thought of that house and my garden in the back when I was in Hell. How I longed to be there.”

“But most of the past ten years have been spent in this RV?” asked Leland.

“Oh, heavens no,” replied Serena. “Most of that time was spent in our old RV. It was barely half the size of this one. We got this one when Julio and Karina started traveling with us.”

“It’s hard to imagine,” noted Leland. “It sounds like the life of a gypsy.”

“I suppose it is,” said Chris. “But you have to set priorities. Our experience ten years ago was very good at helping us do that.”

Leland nodded. He tried to imagine the life these two spiritual vagabonds had been living. Their lives were so focused. Then again, having lived a part of your life in Heaven and in Hell might have a tendency to do that to you.

Chris looked at his watch; it was just after ten. “Well, I’m calling it a night. I’ll be getting up at four to unhook the cables and pull out. You folks sleep in. I can do the driving. The next crusade starts tomorrow evening at six. I want to be there early.”

Leland shook his head. “Chris, I don’t see how you do it.”

“You just need to know what is at stake, that’s all,” he replied. “We could have a matter of weeks before the Lord calls us home, maybe less. I plan to take advantage of every minute of it.”

“It’s been this way for us for ten years,” confirmed Serena.

“I feel like I’m entering the fight so late and after all the mistakes I’ve made,” lamented Leland.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” said Chris, heading for the bedroom. “Now that you’re with us, just make up for lost time.”

“I will,” confirmed Leland. “Thanks for having me along.”

“Oh, we’ve loved having you,” assured Serena. “It’s great to have you on our side. You really made the people think these past evenings. Who can say how many people your testimony touched.” Serena wished Leland a good night and headed for the bedroom.

As Leland settled in for the night, he considered all that he’d seen these past few years. What a rollercoaster. Yet he suspected the roughest ride was yet to come.

No one else in the RV had yet stirred as Chris pulled out of their spot and onto the road.

Maneuvering through the light early-morning traffic, it wasn’t long before he caught Interstate 57 south. They were on their way to Shelbyville.

This would be an unusual revival, a small church in a town of 5000. This meeting had been arranged the better part of a year ago. Actually, they had been there four times before and had made some good friends. This revival would be like the old days, before these huge citywide meetings, when things seemed so much simpler.

It was almost sunrise when Chris pulled off of the interstate and onto State Route 16. He remembered the lake just north of town. This might be his last opportunity to get in some fishing with Pastor Dave.

By now, both Serena and Leland were up. Serena was fixing breakfast for the group. The smell of bacon filled the RV.

Chris hadn’t noticed the police car trailing him until his lights popped on. He glanced down at his speedometer; he was right on the speed limit. Chris pulled over, hoping that the officer would pass him by. He didn’t. He pulled in right behind him and stepped out of his car. Chris could tell that he was a county sheriff’s deputy.

“License and registration, please,” he said, as Chris lowered his window.

Chris complied. The deputy looked them over carefully. “Mr. Davis, the reason I stopped you this morning is that you have a flickering tail light, probably a loose wire. It makes it look like you’re trying to make a left turn. Where are you heading this morning?”

“Shelbyville,” replied Chris.

“Well, this is nothing serious,” said the deputy, “just a repair order. You’ll be fine till you get to Shelbyville. Garage ought to be open by the time you get there. You can get it fixed there.”

“Yes sir,” confirmed Chris, “I will.”

By now Serena and Leland were watching the goings on from behind the passenger’s side captain’s chair. The deputy glanced over at them, smiled, but said nothing.

“Let me head on back to the car and do the paperwork,” said the deputy. “You’ll just need to get the repair order signed by the mechanic and mailed on back to us.”

“Oh, sure,” said Chris, “no problem.”

The deputy walked back to his patrol car. For a moment, he got on his radio, looked back toward Chris, then began to fill out some form attached to a clipboard.

“We have a bad tail light, that’s all,” said Chris, turning to Serena and Leland.

Leland hesitated. “There’s something wrong about that guy.” “Like what?” asked Serena.

“It’s something about his eyes,” said Leland. “They’re lifeless. I used to see it a lot back at the office. My wife’s eyes were like that after, well, after they did what they did to her.”

Serena seemed confused. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed anything in particular, but she’d only seen the deputy for a couple seconds.

It was about two minutes later that another patrol car pulled in behind the first, even as a sheriff’s van pulled in front of them, cutting them off. The deputy was once more approaching Chris.

“Mr. Davis, we need you to step out of the vehicle, along with your passengers,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” asked Chris.

The deputy looked at him, his eyes cold and impassionate. “The sooner you folks comply, the sooner you can be back on your way.”

“Sure,” said Chris, stepping from the RV.

Serena and Leland quickly followed. They were surrounded by four other officers.

“I’d like your permission to search your RV,” said the first deputy. “Search all you like,” said Chris.

Two deputies headed on into the RV while Chris and the others watched nervously. What were these guys looking for?

“There’s fresh coffee in the coffee maker and cups on the counter,” said Serena, glancing back into the RV. “You’re welcome to some, if you like.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” asked one of the deputies, hostility in his voice.

“No, she was just trying to be friendly,” said Chris, who at this point had about enough. Still, he managed to control his frustration and anger.

“I’ve been through this sort of thing before,” grumbled Leland, practically under his breath, “but it’s been a while.”

It was about two minutes later that the deputies emerged from the RV. One of them had in his hand some smoking paraphernalia and a small plastic bag filled with white powder. “You have an explanation for this?” he asked.

“Of course we do,” replied Leland. “That’s the stuff you planted in the RV. Who you working for anyway?”

A second later, two of the deputies had drawn their weapons. In that moment, Leland seemed to understand.

“So, it’s come to this,” said Leland. “Yeah, I know who you work for.”

“We will need to take all of you into custody until we can sort this thing out,” announced the deputy. “I need your legs spread, hands in front of you,
leaning forward on the vehicle.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been through this whole thing before,” grumbled Leland. Still, Serena hadn’t. There was fear in Serena’s eyes as she turned to Chris.

“We’d better do what he says,” said Chris.

A moment later they had all assumed the position, only to find themselves searched and handcuffed, with their hands behind their backs. They were then herded into the sheriff’s van for transport to they knew not where.

The van was flanked by the two patrol cars as it proceeded up the main road for about five miles, only to make an abrupt turn down a dirt road on the left.

“I wonder where they’re taking us,” pondered Chris, trying to draw as close to Serena as he could.

“One thing’s for sure—it isn’t to the police station,” said Leland.

“Pipe down back there,” said the deputy on the passenger’s side, looking back through the grill that separated the two compartments.

“Or what?” said Leland. “Or you’ll kill us? I think you’ll do that either way. You’re all a bunch of losers anyway. You’re gonna lose this fight no matter what happens.”