Glenn Beck: The Eye of Moloch

“I’d like to go now,” she said.

“Hear me out, Molly—”

“Nothing you say will make a difference.” She moved to stand but rough hands from either side gripped her shoulders and kept her seated. “I’m warning you—”

“Warning me,” he said, with what was obviously meant to be a good-natured amusement in his voice. “It shouldn’t come to this. We have a common enemy in this revolution. You shy away from the clarity of some of our beliefs, I understand that, but it’s only a small step I’m asking you to take. We’re both outlaws in the oppressors’ eyes, after all. Have you seen what they’ve done to you, and your group, and to your mother’s memory?” He paused. “You haven’t, have you? You’ve been on the lam all these months, and you haven’t seen, or your people have kept it from you. You’ve been spared from what the Jew-run blogs and the leftist underground media and their minions have made of you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve officially become an enemy of the state, Miss Ross. You, and your insiders, and your dead friend Danny Bailey—by all accounts you’re all homegrown terrorists, enemy combatants, the dreaded white al-Qaeda. You plotted with a turncoat FBI man to destroy a federal building and half of Las Vegas last fall, and you nearly succeeded. Your mother was so distraught over your treason that she committed suicide.”

It took a physical effort, but Molly kept her voice steady. “All lies.”

“If a hundred million people believe a lie and only one knows the truth, tell me, whose version do you think history will record?”

“More than one knows the truth.”

Pierce sighed heavily and retook his chair. “Let’s cut to the heart of it. On my orders we saved your life today, at a considerable cost of men and materials. Though some of my advisors disagreed with me on this course, the decision was mine. In my view what that means, at the minimum, is that you owe a great deal to me. In our discussion outside this door just now there were differing opinions on how that debt was to be paid.

“After much prayer and soul-searching I’ve determined there are two courses, and the one we take will be yours to choose. The first is an official and public alliance between us.” The room was still as he waited for her to respond in some way. She didn’t. “Do you understand?”

“I understand the word alliance, yes.”

“With your eyesight as it is, can you see at all?”

“Only some light and shadow,” she said.

“All right.” There was a brief rustling of paper. Someone walked past her to the desk and then came back, took her wrist, and put a single sheet on a clipboard and a heavy marker into her hands. “Despite the best efforts of our enemies there are still likely hundreds of thousands of your mother’s faithful who still may believe in you. These represent a valuable constituency to me. I’ve written a statement and you hold it there. We’ll have someone read it to you so you can memorize it. I want you to sign it, and sign it big, John Hancock–style. We’ll scan it then for a mass e-mail announcement, and when you’re ready you will deliver it for the camera—”

“You don’t have to read it to me. I’m sure I know the essence. It’s addressed to your audience, and mine. It says that I’ve seen the error of my ways and decided to join forces with you. It says that everyone who believes in what my mother stood for, and that I still stand for, should all follow my lead and do the same.”

“. . . You’d rather speak it from the heart, then?”

“Actually,” Molly said, “I’d much rather die.”

Pierce crushed out his cigar with a good deal more force than would have been required to simply snuff it. “And there you’ve struck upon the second option, but you should know something before you choose it. Any noble stand you take will be for nothing. Out on the Internet a dead person can go on living for a long time, for years maybe. So through the magic of technology you’ll sign and deliver that statement postmortem, and many others after that, and nobody will ever know that it wasn’t really you.

“But I’d rather we didn’t go that way. If you’re to be a living ally you bring several advantages to me. If not, then you bring only one. My boys here haven’t seen such a pretty young woman in a month of Sundays, at least one whose affections they didn’t have to purchase. I expect they’ll all want to enjoy you for a spell before we bury you alive.”

Pierce said this with the inhuman detachment of a textbook sociopath, with no discernible anger or malice. Molly sat for a few seconds, thinking. The character of the waning light through that window had dimmed and grown warmer, but not yet quite enough. She would need just a little more time.

“I’m still listening,” Molly said.

“That’s better.”

“What about the people who were with me?”

“What’s left of the Founders’ Keepers? They’re out there under guard in the next room, sweating out your decision, and I’m afraid they’re quite a bit worse for the wear. One’s wounded and I’m told that we brought back another—a Mr. Church, if I recall—who’d sadly expired from the rigors of the day. But it’s good you asked, because there’s one of your number we can’t account for. This big mulatto that rarely leaves your side, this Thom Hollis, I believe his name is. What is he to you, some kind of a Secret Service?”

“He’s my friend.”

“And he’s a half-blood, is he? Or a quarter?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s never come up.”

“Well, despite the fact that he’s a good fraction of a porch-monkey, I’m told that he’s a rare breed. From what I hear he’s not your typical black man; hell, I’d say the half that’s Caucasian may be a better soldier than most of these whole white men right here. I hear he fought well for you. They also tell me he’s articulate, and bright, and clean. He’s light-skinned with no Negro dialect. I want you to know I need men like him, so don’t you worry about that boy.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I’m saying is, he’d have a place with us here if that’s what’s on your mind. You just think about how far we’ve come. A few years ago this guy would have been fetching us coffee, and here I’m pulling up a seat for him, right here next to me. And it would be a considerable load off my mind if you told me where he is right now.”

“I wouldn’t tell you that, even if I knew.”

“Now, there’s no need to be that way. Look, I’ve got three of my best trackers out there looking for him, and they’ll bring him on in living or dead before too much longer. Three against one on enemy territory, them’s tough odds to beat, I don’t care how good he is. But, if I had an encouraging word from you about my proposal, well, then, I’d just radio my boys and it’d go much better for him. For both of you. The choice is yours, it’s no skin off my nose either way.”

His voice had taken on a new earnestness that only made the words that much uglier. “I think you’ve got me all wrong, Molly. I think one man is just as good as another so long as he’s honest and decent and not a nigger or a Chinaman. My old mom told me, ‘George, you can’t go to heaven if you hate anybody.’ We practice that. There are white niggers, I’ve seen a lot of white niggers in my time.

“See, I don’t hate the kikes, or the spooks, or the beaners, or the rag-heads. I don’t even hate the chinks anymore. I don’t hate any of those unfortunate people. We should all just stay with our own, you see? I think even brother Farrakhan would join hands with me on that score.

“This is our time, Molly, and our God-given commission. It falls to this generation to cleanse this country, to take it back to the purity it once was. It’s us or them. That’s why I’ve got to know right now if you’re going to be one of us. You’ve got a way with the common people I’ll never have, but you’ve had no muscle behind you. These men here that fought for you today and thousands more like them across America, this is your army. We’re ready to march. Now let’s do what we have to do and take these sons of bitches out.”