There was no way to stop him. He really did deserve the title of Colonel.
And yet… he wanted more.
Colonel Peter Lassiter was already the most successful kidnapper in history. The team was compartmentalized, so nobody who worked for him knew any other person and they knew almost nothing about him. They couldn’t trip across each other because they were all in different cities. When one of his associates finished several jobs in the same place, he moved them to another city. No point taking a chance of any snoopy types seeing the same person near two abductions.
More importantly, none of the operatives knew Lassiter. His team had all been hired anonymously on the dark side of the internet. DarkNet was where all smart criminals lurked, because everything they did there was hidden. Not even Google searched there. Lassiter found and paid his staff (using bitcoin, of course), equipped the local vault, and monitored the whole operation by using the shadowy features of DarkNet.
His associates picked lone wanderers, who were randomly available for them. For each successful kidnapping, they were paid $100,000. It didn’t matter if the ransom was paid or not. Lassiter always paid his staff.
He was untraceable.
But there was no challenge.
Lately, he’d been thinking of trying something bigger, something more exciting, something to get him energized and scared and thrilled.
A movie star?
The spoiled kid whose father ran a Fortune 500 company?
A famous YouTuber?
The options were all out there, but each of them brought significant risks along with the rewards. He only needed to make a single mistake to lead to his downfall.
Decisions, decisions.
For now, he shrugged and sent the text to Jesse Helman.
Terminate her.
Easy peasy. Five minutes later, Lassiter watched Helman appear on the video. He had a gun and casually blew the girls brains out.
Lassiter turned off the feed and took the red hotel away from San Diego, replacing it with a green Monopoly house.
“Time for you to get back hunting, Helman.”
Chapter 18
The sun was starting to set, but I didn’t want the day to end. Nobody in modern history had ever heard Jesus’s words from his own mouth, and it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.
The downside was that the more time I spent with him, the more I liked him, which would make my job all that harder.
I finally got up the courage to ask the main question in which I was interested.
“Do you believe you are the son of God?”
It wasn’t because I was ready to be convinced. I wanted to hear what he believed about himself.
“That’s an odd question,” he answered. He stepped a bit closer and locked eyes with me. It felt like he was trying to hypnotize me with those bright blue eyes, especially when the twilight sun bounced off them. He was majestic, no question about that.
For the first time, I wanted to believe.
Jesus looked at me for several moments and then finally added, “You must believe what you must believe. Is it so hard for you to do that?”
“Yes, it is impossible to believe.”
“You need to have faith, Adlai.”
“I believe in what my eyes can see. Can you perform a miracle for me? Maybe make manna fall from the sky, or raise a body from the dead?”
He smiled, as if my request was childish. Maybe it was.
Although I was Jewish, I’d been to Christian church services many times. Sometimes for weddings, sometimes for funerals, and a few times because of dating a girl who wanted me to go to her church with her. I went and pretended to pray at the appropriate times, and I listened to the sermons, and in my own mind I asked who in their right mind would believe that a magical man once came to Earth who could perform miracles, and whose father was God. He could raise people from the dead and do many other things.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Judaism isn’t any better. The Old Testament is full of miracles, too, ones achieved with God’s help. I don’t believe that any more than the mystical stories of Jesus.
Now, though, I was where the Christian stories had originated, and the enormity of that was weighing on me.
“The Lord wants people to trust Him and to love Him, as He loves them,” he said. “Love is based on feelings, on mutual respect, on the relationship that grows between the father and his children.”
He shook his head, and continued.
“Love is not based on analyzing columns of figures and subtracting others. It is not based on evidence. It is based on faith. That is the only way it can work. Do you love the girl with whom you came? Shonda?”
Now it was my turn to smile.
“No. I met her three days ago. She is very nice, and we have enjoyed our time together, but it is too early to call it love.
“I have been in love other times, though,” I added.
And maybe I still am. I wished Karen Anderson had been with me instead of Shonda.
“Do you ask for proof of everything about a girl before you fall in love with her? Is it not more likely you know some things but others you continue to learn as you grow closer?”
“It is not the same.”
“It is exactly the same.”
“You claim to be supernatural. That is a big statement. In my time, a famous scientist once said that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.”
Jesus nodded. “Carl Sagan.”
And that was the moment my heart skipped a beat.
Obviously, there was no way in hell that a person living in 11 A.D. could possibly know who Carl Sagan was. He was the most famous astronomer in the late twentieth century, host of a successful TV show, but given that he was born in 1934, well, you can see why the mention of his name shook me.
“How could you possibly know Carl Sagan?” I’m sure my voice cracked as I asked the question.
“I am confused,” Jesus said. “You told me Carl Sagan spoke about extraordinary claims.”
“No, I did not. I said ‘a famous scientist.’ I did not use his name.”
Jesus shrugged. “You can either believe you spoke his name or that I performed a miracle.”
It felt like he was playing a game with me that I didn’t know the rules of. I didn’t feel like doing that anymore, so I moved on.
“Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?”
I was thinking of the Holocaust, but it feels like there’s an infinite number of examples. Small children who die of cancer, teenage rape victims, wives beaten by their husbands, and on and on. If God was all-powerful and all-knowing, why would He allow this kind of garbage to happen?
“You like to jump to the big questions.”
“Do you have an answer?”
“I do. But, that does not mean I am willing to share it with you. You are very confrontational, and anything I say would fall on deaf ears. I need you to be more open about your thoughts, instead of being so closed-minded.”
“I am not closed-minded.”
“You may believe that, but I know you better, my friend.”
Karen had called me closed-minded.
Once again, I couldn’t help but think about her. If I ever had the chance to tell her I spoke to the biblical Jesus, her mouth would drop open in shock.
Damn, I really did miss her.
I stared at Jesus and said, “You are a nice young man, Yeshua.”
“But?”
“I do not believe what you say.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Millions of people will be killed because of your ministry.”