Cult Read Online Free PDF Page B

completely. Now, something deep inside of her, at the core of her feminine self, had been moved.
    â€œYou’re looking good, Nay,” he said, putting a spiral notebook he had been carrying on the table between them. It had a plastic cover, the kind that students used. The old fashioned notebook seemed incongruous with Barney’s usual technological sophistication.
    â€œYou too, Barney.”
    In the awkwardness of the moment, they started to speak simultaneously. There were still preliminaries to breach.
    â€œI appreciate your doing this.” He watched her, showing a flash of the old Barney. “Bet you have a direct pipeline to the White House by now.” He offered his old salesman’s wink, but it had lost spontaneity. It hurt to see the mechanics of his charm show through.
    â€œI’m a Democrat, remember?”
    â€œI thought all you guys worked together, hand in glove.”
    â€œWith them? Never.”
    She felt the old resentment, the black Irish cynicism. Hell, it was irrelevant. They were dancing around a cold bonfire.
    â€œAnyway,” she said hoping to put a halt to the clumsy small talk, “I’m glad to help. But don’t put too much faith in what I can really do.”
    â€œWhen you’re desperate, you reach out…,” he began haltingly, forcing her eyes to turn away in embarrassment. Odd how they had returned immediately to the most corrosive issue of their relationship. She pushed it away. Nothing would come of dwelling on the past. Not now. Or ever.
    â€œWhat I have is not encouraging….”
    â€œI know. I’ve done a little homework on my own.”
    Reaching for his notebook, he opened it and flipped the pages. “I’ve written it all down. To whom I’ve spoken so far. What they’ve said. It’s a very consistent story.”
    She looked at the notebook as he spoke.
    â€œI don’t want to miss a beat. Want it all down on paper. Bearing witness, so to speak. I guess it’s a salesman’s habit, writing down reactions, noting possibilities. I’ve got one helluva problem on my hands, Nay.”
    â€œI know,” she replied. She had talked to lawyer friends and to a number of congressmen that she knew. She also contacted a friend at the FBI. She had personally gone through the back files of the
Washington Post
and the
New York Times
and had her assistant plug in to every data service available. She needed to know who was his enemy, the people who had taken his wife. By now, she had the facts, but no real decision as to a course of action for him.
    â€œIt boils down to this,” she said. “The Glories is a religion, bona fide in the eyes of the law. Their status has been challenged by various people—mostly ex-Glories, by the way—but on the point of being a legally sanctioned religion, they emerge in the right. Apparently, they have a huge cadre of prestigious law firms on their payroll. They are very, very rich. The fact is that all you need is fifty names and an application to the Internal Revenue Service to declare yourself a religion. If the IRS says it’s okay, presto, you’re a religion.” She suspected she was presenting what was obvious. His reaction was passionate and swift.
    â€œLegal or not, they’re a scam, a fraud. They challenge our vulnerability. They have their greedy hands in most moneymaking schemes you can think of. They are ubiquitous and powerful. They have these businesses. And their followers work for them, literally, as slaves. Oh, they’re very clever. They know how to slip just under the legal radar. They’ll have Charlotte doing their bidding in the name of their all-holy jackass guru. Working for nothing, selling their merchandise, whatever. They’re also in real estate, media, large-scale business. It’s big, big moneymaking. Tax-free. All religions are tax-free, and they’re one of many. How dumb can our government be to