Chapter One
Janet was growing extremely impatient. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t put that kook on the radio when we were hanging out. Why am I listening to this crap?”
Renard Alciatore smiled, leaned over and grabbed two fresh beers from the cooler. Tossing one to Janet, he sat back on the seawall and gazed out at Lake Pontchartrain. It was coming up on quarter to five in the afternoon, and the New Orleans air was crisp and cool this sunny April day. Ren had been listening to “Talk Now! With Jay Hadley” in the car on the way to his bi-weekly stress break along the lake with his best friend, then pulled out a small, expensive boom box to finish listening to the program. Having heard what he needed to, he turned off the radio.
“I’m sorry, JJ. I know I said I wouldn’t bring the radio out when we were here, but this was something I just had to hear live. That kid is a regular visitor to my web site, and we knew he could get past the call screener. And, boy, did he get through! Made ol’ Hadley hit the panic button big-time!” Ren knocked back the rest of his beer. His ebon-colored eyes almost glowed as the sun began to dip. Standing, he stretched his almost-six-foot frame and reached for another beer.
Janet frowned. “I still don’t get this obsession with a radio preacher. You’re Catholic, went to Catholic school, you still go to a Catholic church. OK, the guy is a goof, and he’s probably fun to mess with. You’re taking this way too seriously these days. It’s gone so far past simply being a guilty pleasure that it’s not funny anymore.” A petroleum engineer, Janet Julianne Garrison was a very practical sort. She and Ren first met in graduate school at the University of New Orleans, both trying their hand at getting MBA degrees. Even though she was married and seven years his senior, the two bonded quickly and had become fast friends.
“JJ, this guy isn’t really a radio preacher. He’s a crook. He doesn’t have a church, he’s never been ordained by a respectable denomination, and he spends better than 30% of his two-hour show begging for more money. And guess where that money goes? Straight back to his pocket! He’s even got his own ‘fan’ newsgroup on the Internet!” His eyes followed a sailboat that was about a mile out on the lake for a minute or so. Then he finished the thought. “Look, it’s not really a religion thing. It’s an honesty thing. The guy is taking money from old folks and lower-middle class families that buy into his line. If he was selling some kind of product or legitimate service, that would be one thing. All he tells people is that they’ll get blessed if they donate to him. That’s as bad as the indulgence sellers were. I like to think I’m making a small contribution to ridding the world of con men like this guy.”
Janet wasn’t all that impressed. “Ok, that’s all fine and dandy, but some of these fundie types aren’t stable. You go messing with the wrong person and you’re asking for trouble. Consider that before getting too involved with bringing down kings.”
Ren smiled sheepishly. “OK, point taken. I’ll remember that. Wanna go get something to eat?”
“Nah, I’d better get home. The boys don’t have soccer tonight, so Joe will want me home at a reasonable hour.
Ren smiled. Janet’s husband Joe was as much a friend as his former grad-school buddy. “OK, far be it from me to get in the way of marital and maternal bliss. Get on with yourself, then!”
“Yeah. Seriously, Ren, I really want you to think about what I’m saying on this Hadley thing.”
Ren grabbed her shoulder and pushed himself up. “Fine, I’ll give it some thought. Really, I will.”
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and touched his shoulder. “Seeya.”
“Later.”
Ren gathered up the cooler and radio and headed back to his car, a 1970 Mustang Mach One. The car used to be his brother’s, but he sold it to Ren a year ago when they had their third child. It was worth the trip all the way to Seattle and back to go get it. His house on Moss St., along Bayou St. John, was only five minutes away. Parking the car in front, he bounded up the walkway and opened the front door.
The house was Ren’s home, office, and photography studio. Most of his work as a photographer was on location, but the master bedroom on the first floor had been converted into a small professional studio for indoor work. He slid the cooler down the hall towards the kitchen and entered his office. Those who didn’t know Ren would swear they’d just walked into a CIA electronic listening post rather than the office of a photographer. There were three computer systems up and running: Ren’s regular desktop workstation, a system dedicated to photo scanning/editing/composition, and a server tying the first two to the Internet and operating Ren’s website. While many photographers shy away from computers, Ren fully embraced the technology, and a substantial portion of his business was now derived from World Wide Web design and development. All that work enabled him to have a high-speed phone line hooked up to the house.
It had been a busy day for Ren before he met up with Janet, and the sigh he let out when he fell into his desk chair reflected that. Spinning the trackball on the desktop system, he checked his e-mail. As expected, there were half a dozen messages from those in the know about Lonny’s antics with Jay Hadley that afternoon, as well as some business-related inquiries and a note from his brother. He settled in and began to read through the day’s correspondence, when his instant-message program flashed, indicating someone was paging him with a new message. Checking his contact list, ht wasn’t from anyone he already knew. Curiosity piqued, he opened the message.
“Hi,” the message read, “I have information you might find useful. Information about Jay Hadley.”
A more detailed check of the sender revealed nothing; all the privacy flags the messaging program allowed someone to use were activated. At the very least, he was speaking to a fairly computer-literate person. He clicked the reply button and began to type.
“Oh, yeah? And what sort of info would that be? :-)” Ren usually ended messages with a “smiley” face because it tended to put whomever he was talking to at ease.
“Lonny was right, you know. Hadley paid to fly his copy editor and her kids to Dallas at the same time he was there doing a public appearance in Ft. Worth about two months ago. Had a teenager take the kids to Six Flags all day that Saturday, and they spent the going at it like rabbits.”
The mystery messenger had his full attention now. “OK, I can confirm the travel arrangements for this woman and her kids, but how do I confirm your allegations of sexual impropriety?”
There was a bit of a pause, just enough to make Ren wonder about the truthfulness of the person on the other side. “Hadley likes to play with digital cameras.”
That statement took Ren aback. “Are you saying you have pics of ol’ Jay with this woman?”
“Yes.”
Trying to remain calm, Ren continued. “Great. When can I get these files from you?”
The screen flashed again. “Not yet. You have to build up to it. Remember Woodward and Bernstein during Watergate? It’s the same deal here. You have to build up to it. Follow the trail. I can guide you, but you have to do the work yourself.”
Trying not to get annoyed, Ren pressed forward. “Are you saying you’re too close to the situation to be directly involved?”
Another pause. “In a way, yes.”
The tension of the person on the other side was visible to Ren. One of the reasons he enjoyed chatting on the computer so much was because he had a gift for “feeling” emotions online, even if the other party was in another country. His next question would confirm that his instinct was right. “Can we meet?”
“Eventually. Not yet, though.”
“How do I know you’re not just jerking me around, or worse yet, setting me up?” Ren was satisfied that his instincts were correct, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
“Check your e-mail in a little while. You’ll find some interesting reading that will establish my credentials with you.”
The program’s sound-effects kicked in with a closing-door sound, indicating that the other side had closed the connection and logged out. Leaning back in his chair, Ren closed his eyes, trying to use his intuition to sense whether he was on to something here, or if he was walking into a trap of some kind.
Had Ren been able to see the face of the person on the other side of the connection, he would have known immediately that this was no trap. Cecilia McIntyre had worked for Jay Hadley Ministries for five years, but she had never seen him as angry or upset as he was after this afternoon’s program. She spent fifteen minutes in Hadley’s plush office being screamed at for allowing Lonny to get through and embarrass him in that way. Worse still, he did this in front of a representative of the company that published all of his books.
Feeling thoroughly humiliated, Cecilia hurried out of the office and headed for a little pub she and her friends regularly frequented on Thursday nights. This was a Tuesday evening, but she was still welcomed as a regular, as she proceeded to gulp down several glasses of Chardonnay. The wine had kicked in by the time she arrived at her Old Metairie apartment, and her feelings of humiliation had turned to anger. Activating her computer, she quickly accessed the personal web page of Renard Alciatore, who she know was the Webmaster of the most active anti-Hadley website on the Internet. Setting her instant messaging configuration to total anonymity (a regular occurrence for a single woman), she messaged Alciatore, dropped some teaser information on him, then e-mailed him some interesting inter-office memos from the Ministry via an anonymous e-mail server. She was more than a bit good with computers, so covering her track was no problem at all. Neither Hadley nor Alciatore would know that this information came from her, unless she decided she wanted them to know. And for the moment, she mused; it was better if she remained a mystery to both.
Chuckling inside, then, she shut her system down and curled up on her couch to watch TV. Alciatore and his buddies had been playing small-time faith-busters up to now; she had just moved them into the big leagues…
Ren was now on his second reading of the material his mystery chatter had left him via e-mail. None of the contents of the memos was what you would call earth shattering, but it was juicy enough to be considered annoying by Hadley and staff. If this wasn't merely a one-shot acquisition by his source, this individual could be a very useful conduit of data about the ministry. Using a little cut-and-paste wizardry, he integrated components of the memos into his existing “what’s new” section of the website. This was a big step for Ren. Prior to this point, the entire contents of the web site were all publicly available, focusing on responding to things Hadley said on the air. Various rumors and innuendo concerning Hadley’s personal life were always reported as third-party hearsay, repeating what others said on the air. Publishing the contents of these memos, even in the paraphrased format Ren was using meant he was directly entering into the effort to bring down Jay Hadley Ministries.
Ren took a deep breath, got up from his desk, and walked quietly through the house to the front door. The humid night air hit him like the brick wall that it is when he descended the front steps and headed towards the bank of the bayou. The waxing moon was a fingernail crescent, barely illuminating the surface of the water. Ren sat down at the water’s edge and sighed. He always thought that the content of the web site was aggressive and productive, but now all he could hear was J.J.’s voice in the back of his mind, warning him that going after Hadley may be more than he could handle. Still, if he didn’t publish this information, he was all but assured that his source would not provide him with any further goodies. It was clear now that there was someone on the inside of the Ministry who shared his sentiments on this. How could he not press forward with this data?
Tossing a twig into the water, he listened for the splash and turned to go back across the street and to the house. Leaning over his desk chair, Ren moved the trackball and clicked the keystrokes that sent the new Hadley information into publication on the server. Not even sitting down, he closed down his work system and headed for the shower. It was time for a beer or two...
Ren woke with a start the next morning. Even though he had no early appointments, he could hear his alarm clock chiming, so he rolled over to switch it off when he realized that the chimes were not from his clock but from his web server computer. Climbing out of bed and walking to his study, the chiming got louder as he approached the server. A quick glance of the activity report of the time since he published the new Hadley information indicated that not only had the number of visitors to the web site had increased, but now someone was making a crude attempt to shut down the server by repeatedly issuing one request immediately after another from multiple locations on the Internet. A few quick modifications to the server’s configuration dealt with that problem, and the chiming alarm ceased. Ren could now turn his attention towards his workstation system, so he could check e-mail and hopefully find out what had been going on while he rested.
His server’s e-mail filters had done their job in terms of removing the usual annoyance mail sent to him by pro-Hadley supporters, leaving his “inbox” with a few notes from friends, one from his niece in Seattle, and a note from one of his fellow Hadley-bashers who lived in Abita Springs, on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. The letter congratulated Ren on publishing confirmation that JHM had withdrawn its application for full membership in the Association for Broadcast Ministries, a watchdog organization formed after the Rev. Jim Bakker went to prison for his PTL Network dealings. When publishing this the night before, Ren regarded this fact as a small news item, but his north shore acquaintance, who went by the moniker “Professor Apocalypse,” went into some detail to explain that ABM certification was becoming more and more important to a TV or Radio-based ministry, and Hadley’s reticence to become a full member indicated that his financial dealings and records might not stand up to independent scrutiny. While this revelation might not in and of itself deal a major blow to Hadley’s fund-raising efforts, it was a setback that would keep him from joining the ranks of the well-respected media ministries, such as Jim Dobson’s “Focus on the Family” program. As “Professor Apocalypse” pointed out, anything that held JHM back from moving into that top-echelon of ministries absolutely incensed the Rev. Hadley.
Ren didn’t know whether to laugh or cry while reading his colleague’s explanation of why his web server had been “under attack” for the last couple of hours. The good doctor’s knowledge of what this ABM situation was all about made him feel better in that Hadley would probably figure he was Ren’s source of information. Today’s “Talk Now!” program might just be the most entertaining one of the month...
Cecilia McIntyre was having a most uncomfortable morning, sitting in her boss’ office, listening to him carry on about the impact of Ren Alciatore’s web site on the ministry’s financial position.
“OK, I need a major diversion today, Cee.” Hadley was pacing behind his desk, stopping to look out over the lake as he spoke. The view was spectacular, with cars darting back-and-forth over the causeway bridge. Cecilia could almost see a shiver go up Hadley’s spine as he contemplated the possibility that the day would come when he would not be able to meet expenses on this office suite and would be forced to find a less-opulent home for the ministry. “We haven’t had a full-blown exorcism on-air in what, six, seven weeks, right? See what you can line up for me.”
Cecilia cringed inwardly. Of all the things she did for “the good of the ministry,” this was one of the things that really turned her stomach. What Hadley wanted her to “line up” was someone who was “possessed” with demons that Hadley could cast out. Cecilia would line up aspiring actors to call in and play the role of the possessed, and Hadley would play the person along, eventually bringing them to the Lord live for all the True Believers to hear, and hopefully pay for.
She nodded to him and said, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of people I briefed, anticipating that we do one next week. Let me try to track one of them down and see what we can do. Do you have a male/female preference?”
Hadley grinned. “Oh, female, definitely. I want a real gut-twister if possible. I want total focus on the positive, and an exorcism gives us a great excuse not to take negative calls without appearing to be hiding from the issues.” He stood reached for the phone and gave her a stern look. “Let’s have no nightmares this afternoon, k, Cee?”
She nodded again, stood up, and returned to her office down the hall. Cecilia was still reeling from the dressing-down she received from Hadley yesterday over Lonny. Flopping down in her chair, she reached for the phone and called her first dinner-theater actress who was about to get a sudden case of demonic possession...
Forty-five minutes later, the afternoon’s feature event was all planned out. The best exorcisms they’d staged on the radio were ones where the “victim” had a solid script and background story, worked out in advance with Cecilia. Hadley was kept in the dark about the specifics of the situation, that way he had to pull the facts out bit by bit. Any prior knowledge of the facts might blow the spontaneity of the call. Hadley was good at this, and if the “victim” could keep up with him, the whole experience could be a major revenue-generator for the ministry.
Of course, there were the occasional “real” exorcisms, people who just called in truly looking for help, but those made Cecilia very nervous. There was simply no way to control the flow of the call, making it very difficult to get scheduled breaks in. Sometimes the “real” calls worked out, but most often they fizzled as the caller grew silent or simply hung up on Hadley. Cecilia rationalized the staged calls as being good “simulations” that showed the public what was at stake in terms of fighting the forces of evil in this world.
She e-mailed Hadley that everything was set up for the show, even though he was just a few feet down the hall. Not interested in being reminded about yesterday one more time, she kept her door shut and used e-mail to control her access to the outside world. A quick check of the Web showed that Ren Alciatore had been a busy bee last night, which more than explained Hadley’s desire for a big-time diversion this afternoon. Calling up her word processor, she began to assemble “talking points” for Hadley’s un-scripted pledge breaks that focused on defending the ministry from outside attack. These were always presented in general terms, not recognizing specific attacks, but acknowledging that there were people trying to bring the ministry down. After an hour of typing and revising, she sat back, rubbed her eyes and smiled a satisfied smile as she reviewed her handiwork.
She was going to just e-mail Jay the file she had completed, but decided to print it out and walk it in by hand. As much as she didn’t want to face further criticism today, she also did not want Hadley or anyone in the office to perceive her as a wimp. The document she was pulling off of the printer was good stuff, and she had nothing to be ashamed of; things went awry yesterday, and now she was taking steps to put everything back on track.
Getting up from her desk, she walked back down the hall to Hadley’s office. Seeing the door open, she walked through unannounced to find him on the phone. The twang of the voice emanating from the speakerphone made the caller immediately recognizable to her ears—Anita Delatorre, of Marcus Kayson, one of the largest publishers of Christian books in the world. Cecilia slid her document onto Hadley’s desk as she listened to the caller.
“...Okay, then Jay, I’m on the way to Love Field in a few minutes. I’ll make sure I stop by your office once my other business is finished. Y’all have a good afternoon, and hope the show goes well today!”
Hadley was smiling his “charm-the-ladies” smile, even though the conversation was over the phone. “Great, Anita. Call me on the cell when you get done, and maybe we can grab a bite to eat tonight.”
“Wonderful, Jay. Ciao!” Cecilia smiled inwardly, visualizing the big-haired blonde Dallas debutante on the other end of the connection as she turned and walked out the door. Hadley called after her.
“Hey, Cee, make reservations for me at Delmonico tonight, willya? Thanks, babe!” Without turning around, Cecilia gave him a thumbs-up and headed back to her office to grab her purse and go get some lunch.
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