Corie Tarlner was livid. "How dare you use the cold-blooded murder of thousands of innocent people to jump-start that traitorous ex-president's so-called "Religion of the Masses'!"
Corie had spent years piecing together the dark purpose behind the sequence of events and projects that the ruling cabal had contrived or underwritten for well over half a century. She wasn't about to back down just because the trail led her right to the door of the self-proclaimed savior of corporate hegemony. The man quavering a few inches from her nose was hardly responsible for all the crap she'd uncovered, but he'd volunteered to speak for those who were. Barry Jurdens was the latest public relations flak to front for what Corie considered the worst brand of malevolence since Torquemada ran the Spanish Inquisition, and she had cornered him in one of the back rooms of a seedy sex shop he frequented.
"Miss Tarlner." His voice was low, and tightly controlled. "I suggest that you refrain from making slanderous accusations. Or would you prefer to visit your family at a Federal Detention Center?"
"That would be your reaction, wouldn't it? After all, their worst nightmare would be for someone to expose the real reason why "ground zero' has been treated like holy ground from the moment the twin towers were turned to dust. Well, fortunately for me, your little hideout caters to high rollers with a privacy fetish. That's why I chose it. You have no witnesses unless someone's peeking through that glory hole -- and I have a little something to threaten your sorry ass with as well."
He blinked nervously. "Oh?"
"That's right. Or did you think that blackmail was the sole prerogative of the self-anointed ruling class you work for?"
"Ask your daughter about her new friend. Now, as I was saying, Mr. Jurdens, your masters are convinced that they can fabricate whatever perverted reality they want by stage-managing the beliefs and experiences of the masses. Destroying the twin towers was more than just the catalyzing event they needed to seize power in this country. They'd started planning that mythic event long before ground was even broken for the Pentagon. I mean, really, do they actually think nobody would notice that the outer ring of their power palace was punctured on the anniversary of the day it was set up?"
He laughed derisively. "That's a pretty tenuous connection. Just because it was targeted by the same people that hijacked-"
"You can forget trying to convince me that those patsies were anything other than cover for their false-flag hit. It wasn't even a well-run scam. The people who laid out the plans for the Pentagon needed it in a specific location, and went to a lot of trouble to make sure it was built there. As far as the world knew, it was nothing more than the home base for the US military, and that its shape grew out of the in fighting among the various branches. But a five-pointed star has other, far more interesting uses, and one of the things you do when you complete a ritual is to break your working space. The Tomahawk cruise missile that really pierced the outer ring was a metaphoric stand-in for a different kind of blade."
Jurdens crossed his arms and hardened his stance. "You followed me in here to feed me that tripe? I suppose the next thing you'll tell me is that Oswald didn't kill Kennedy."
"He didn't. But you're missing the point."
"The point?" he said, louder. "The only point you've made is that you're an unbalanced conspiracy theorist with a penchant for stalking. I could smear you in my sleep. It wouldn't matter if you'd stumbled on the story of the millennium. Nobody is going to believe a word you say, even if you do find an outlet foolish enough to repeat it. Emotional reactions are easy to manage, and you've just stepped into a minefield you'll never escape."
"It's not me that will need to escape it. It's you."
"Now I know you're crazy. What have I got to worry about?"
Corie smiled. "The most dangerous person for your masters is someone on the inside with a reason to take them down. And you're about to have that reason."