Under the Radar. Fern Michaels
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crossed the state line from Utah into Idaho and our wives live in Utah. I’ll be the one doing the calling, and I will press charges if you don’t release these women to me right now.”
“Let them go, let them go,” the Sisters hissed. “Let them go and get out of there, Pearl, before those stupid goons make good on their threat.”
Pearl knew when she was beaten. She nodded. “At least tell me where you’re taking them. I want to know they’ll be safe.”
The big man, the spokesman of the four-man group, smiled. “Why, ma’am, I’m taking them to Heaven on Earth, where we all live a satisfying, righteous, happy life.”
The big man turned to the girls and shouted loud enough to be heard into the next county, “Come along, darlings, Daddy is taking you home. Say good-bye to the nice lady, and let’s be on our way.”
“Tell me something, how did you find us and who are you?” Pearl asked as the girls lumbered off the bus.
“My angels travel with GPS tracking devices. They’re pinned to their collars. Or, I should say, there’s one under the collar of my bride. As to who I am, I am the Prophet.”
This last was said with such pride, Pearl felt sick to her stomach.
Pearl played dumb. She hoped she looked as poleaxed as she felt. “Of what?”
The big man drew himself up to his full six-foot height, fixed his calculating gaze on her, and said, “Of Heaven and Earth. Thank you for taking care of my wife and her sisters. Drive safely, now. There isn’t much traffic around here, and if you break down, there won’t be anyone to help you.”
Pearl bit down on her tongue as she slammed the door to the bus. “Did you hear that son of a bitch?” she snarled, the moment she was sure her voice wouldn’t carry.
“Loud and clear. Be glad it worked out this way, Pearl. I’d hate to see your name plastered all over the morning papers. Not to worry, we’ll get him and all the other ones out there. We have a plan. Well, we almost have a plan. Now that your immediate crisis is on hold, we have some breathing room. What are you going to do now?”
“I can’t go back to George and Irma’s. I’ll double back and make my way to the next relay station. Listen, Annie, there’s something you need to know. I don’t think I’m wrong about this, either. The girl, the one named Emily, the talkative one in the bunch, she said she lost her baby. She referred to it as her ‘bump.’ She was going around patting the other girls’ stomachs and saying she couldn’t wait to get another bump. She’s retarded, Annie. Not severely but she is definitely mentally challenged. She said she went to sleep and when she woke up her bump was gone. Now she wants another one. Actually, she’s the only one who really talked. None of them would tell me where their mothers were, they wouldn’t tell me their names or where they were coming from. But, by God, at least one of them had a GPS tracking device pinned to her collar. The Prophet’s bride,” she snorted.
“Retarded?” Annie bellowed in shock. “And she had a baby?”
“A bump. She never mentioned a baby. Okay, I’m back on the road. Tell me I don’t have to worry about George and Irma.”
“You don’t have to worry about George and Irma, Pearl. We’ll take care of things on that end. Drive carefully and check in every few hours until you get to your next relay point.”
“Will do,” Pearl said as she broke the connection. She adjusted her wraparound sunglasses and marveled that she’d gotten out of that little mess intact. She couldn’t help but wonder when her luck was going to run out.
Back on Big Pine Mountain, the encrypted cell phones and the three huge television monitors were working overtime.
Annie pressed a button, and a picture of what looked like a gigantic farm appeared on the screen. “Behold, ladies, you are now viewing the Heaven on Earth compound! Compliments of Google,” she said dramatically. “According to the tax maps, this particular piece of property was purchased by some shell company out of Singapore. Not that we care. There are 120 acres. As you can see, there is a milk barn, another barn that, if you believe this, is used for winter food storage. They sell the milk in town. They have chickens for eggs. They sell those also. In the summer they sell their produce to local markets. They’re the local pumpkin distributor, if that means anything.”
Annie pressed another button. The scene was enlarged, and different buildings could be seen. “This is an aerial photo of the main house, where the Supreme Prophet lives. It’s a five-thousand-square-foot house with front and back porches. These buildings,” she said, using Charles’s pointer, “are where the people, I guess you would call them ‘disciples,’ live. It’s communal, dormitory style. No women actually live in the main house, according to one of the women who got away and gave all this information to the authorities. It was immediately posted on the Net.” Annie moved the pointer. “This is the school. Rudimentary education at best. Eighth grade is as far as it goes. Most of the teaching, aside from math and English, is religion.
“No one in the compound owns anything. Only the Prophet can own things, and he owns a lot. He owns a penthouse apartment in Park City. He’s into fashion, drives a Bentley. And according to what he told Pearl, he owns all the people who live at HOE. The word ‘dictator’ comes to mind.”
“Okay, okay, now that we know all that, why are we going to get involved?” Isabelle asked. “Pearl is okay, she’s back in business, and no one was hurt but the driver of the bus, who died. The girls are back where they’re supposed to be. Or at least where they were headed. We all heard them, they sounded happy when they were ‘rescued.’ So, tell me, why are we putting our necks on the line for something we aren’t involved in?”
In a shaky voice, Yoko spoke up. “Those men are pedophiles. Those young girls are nothing but baby-making machines. Some of them are only thirteen. That is not right. I really want to rescue them and show them a normal life. I was rescued and given a better life. I want to do the same for them.”
“It’s their religion,” Isabelle said. “What right do we have to tamper with someone’s religion? They didn’t ask for our help. Pearl is safe and out of the mess. We could be going into a firestorm not of our making. I think we need to fall back and regroup.”
“I want to know where the mothers are,” Alexis said. “Do they just willy-nilly hand over their daughters when they turn thirteen? What kind of mother does that?”
“The kind of woman who has been brainwashed. That life is all they know,” Nikki said. “Yes, Pearl is safe for the moment, and the young girls are safe, at least in a way. We have to decide if we want to get involved and show the world what those men are all about. The women, too. I think that business in Texas is a start, but I believe the authorities didn’t think it through when they took those four-hundred-plus children. They were overwhelmed. That won’t happen to us. We can go in there, take out the women and children who want to go, deal with those skanky men, and any uncooperative women, too. If we can wipe out just one of those places, maybe our notoriety will spur the authorities to close in and really do something about all those others and at the same time make those pedophiles run for cover.”
“It’s their religion,” Isabelle protested.
“It’s polygamy, and they live in a country where that’s illegal,” Annie snorted. “They’re stealing taxpayer dollars. They’re using children to give birth to children. The women have no options other than what that slimy so-called Prophet gives them. Do I need to remind you that the other prophet, Jeffs, is serving ten years in prison and probably looking at life in prison for the same thing this other Prophet is doing? What kind of religion is that? I’ll tell you what kind it is,” she said, answering her own question. “It’s the kind where they use the word ‘religion’ to get them out of the messes they’re in. They’re pedophiles, they’re tax cheats, they lie, and they brainwash their people. I say we swoop in there and take them all out. Let’s vote. Right now.”
Everyone but Isabelle raised her