Glenn Beck - The Eye of Moloch

George Pierce nodded.

“Good,” Landers said. “So this is how you’ll start to take your justice. Who’s your best marksman?” After a moment Olin Simmons raised his hand and Landers passed the weapon to him. “Gentlemen, this will be the last point on the agenda today. Mr. Thomas Hollis is about to go on a coast-to-coast killing spree.” He briefly consulted the dossier again and turned to Simmons. “We only have an old description and one dim photograph of the man. You’re tan enough to pass, you’re about the right size, and with a wig and a beard from the costume shop you’ll be a reasonable match for any eyewitnesses to report. It’s a plus that Hollis is ex-military; good for the standard mythology. But he doesn’t seem to have a middle name, and that’s a pity.”

“Why is that?” Simmons asked.

“It’s better for the headlines.” Landers smiled. “Every ruthless lone gunman should have a middle name.”

Chapter 15

Alone in the conference room, from deep in his studies George Pierce became aware of a faraway sound outside. With a finger he held his place in the open Bible and listened; it was the shrill, swelling roar of a helicopter coming up to full power and lifting off. By the transit of its noise he could follow the craft as it slowly rose above the trees and made a single orbit low overhead, as if to complete a rude inspection, and then it faded steadily away on a heading toward the southeast.

Pierce smiled. With a final rattling of the shingles this smug interloper Warren Landers was gone, no doubt in full confidence that his mission here among the simpletons had been a success.

But a success for whom? Among other burning questions, that remained to be seen.

“Mr. Pierce?” A voice from the doorway interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes, what is it?”

“That prisoner we’ve got, he’s come around now, and you said I should let you know.”

“Bring him to me,” Pierce said, but then another thought occurred. “Wait—where is Olin Simmons?”

“Him and some of the others walked out with the gentleman you all was meetin’ with before, I guess to see him off on his way home.”

“Of course they did.”

All will be tested, so the Good Book says, and all duly judged in the Lord’s good time. But the darkest corners of perdition were reserved for those who once knew the ways of righteousness and then turned their backs on the sacred command.

“Don’t just bring the prisoner,” Pierce said. “Bring Mr. Simmons, as well. Bring them all.”

When the men had been gathered, on his orders some cleared the central table to the side. Soon the guest of honor was brought into the middle of the room and roughly seated in a straight wooden chair. He was conscious, though so bloodied about the head it would be a genuine surprise if no permanent damage had been done to his brain. Whatever the case, he really wouldn’t need to last much longer.

“My brothers,” George Pierce began, “as you’re all well aware we’ve been honored over the past few days with a visitation from the invisible empire. A messenger has descended to us, come down from Olympus and the awesome, faceless powers that be. I foresaw that it would happen at some point near to the end, and I’ve told you as much, and now it’s come to pass. The great deceiver has sent forth his ambassador and finally shown his hand.

“But I am not taken in by his idolatries, I’m not deceived. We—will not be deceived. If you think we’ve lost our power with this new alliance, I tell you now, we’ve only gained. We will accept their money, we will use their weapons and resources, and to the degree that they coincide with our own ambitions we will execute their plans. We will help them collapse this broken American system, but it is we who will rebuild it, true to our vision. We will not lose ourselves. We will not lose this war.”

The men responded enthusiastically, and amid the cheering and encouragements Pierce scanned each of their faces for any signs of duplicity or reserve. He committed what he saw to memory, and pressed on.

“Now I’ve got me a grudge to satisfy,” he said, and the crowd hushed as one. “There’s a wrong that cries out from the grave to be put right. Some of you may have heard that I’ve been forbidden from on high to act in this matter. That I’ve been warned by this Warren Landers against avenging the betrayal and the killing of my own nephew.

“And I don’t know, some of you might even agree with that prohibition. You may have heard and seen what’s been said and done here in the last two days, and you may be standing there believing that the only choice we’ve got is to kowtow to our new overlords, to worship at their pagan altar with our hats in our hands and hope to cuddle up and curry favor like gelded lapdogs. As for me, boys, that is not my way.

“Now I’m not proud, and I’m not perfect. God’s made no perfect men. But let me ask you, has it ever been said that George Lincoln Rockwell Pierce would ever shy from a fight? That I don’t look out for my people?”

The long room erupted in a rowdy chorus of cheers, stomps, and loud applause.

“You!” Pierce shouted, as he pointed at the seated man. “What have you got to say?”

The prisoner raised his battered head to nearly level, and it seemed to take considerable effort to focus his good eye on the one who’d spoken to him. “I told them everything already—”

“You will stand when you address the company in this room.”

It was all quiet as the shattered man strained and suffered to get to his feet. A would-be good Samaritan took a step forward to help but at a stern gesture from George Pierce he stopped short and quickly resumed his place.

“For those here that may not know,” Pierce said, “tell us all your name.”

“My name is Ben Church.” He was standing by then, but with an unsteady sway and crooked posture, clearly favoring something torn or broken inside.

“Mr. Church is a devotee of Molly Ross and the Founders’ Keepers. He came to me with an olive branch just the other day, as a self-appointed peacemaker, without her knowledge or approval, as I later came to learn. When all of you were up to your necks in government lead and brimstone in that battle up at Gannett Peak, it was this man who’d come to solicit the help we provided her there. He knew his people were outmatched and he came begging for the kind of salvation that only we could offer. And now the lives we’ve lost since are on his hands, and no one else’s. Isn’t that right?”

Ben Church nodded, though he winced at a pain brought on by the movement.

“Once you brave men had done your duty I brought Molly Ross and her folks here in good faith. I kept Mr. Church’s involvement a secret from her, I told her we’d found this man shot and killed by those government men so she could make her choice without feeling that one of her own had come to me, to set her up behind her back. I gave her every chance to make the right decision and join us. But it wasn’t too long before she showed us her true colors, and we all saw the results.”

Pierce turned again to the prisoner. “Three more of my men are dead, now, Mr. Church, and my own flesh is among them. Who’ll answer for that?”

“It’s my fault, I won’t deny. I’m sorry for it. Coming here and asking for your help, it was the only thing I knew to do. I only wanted to save her life. I didn’t know—”

“We’re not here to receive your confession. We know what you did and why you did it. All you can do to help yourself now is to tell us where she is.”