Free Book Excerpts

FBI agent Mark Dylan investigates a series of gruesome murders that lead to the Kingdom Seven Family Temple and its charismatic leader, Minister Lucas Manson.

Excerpt

Dylan and Evy made their way cautiously forward, crouching behind rock outcroppings, scrubby bushes, and cacti. Less than a half-mile ahead they could see temple buildings with windows brightly lit, street lights illuminating concrete sidewalks, and in the center of the compound the majestic temple and spire.

They picked their way through a stand of cacti and found themselves standing on a carefully manicured lawn. To their right was a nondescript three-story white stone building. “Probably a dormitory,” whispered Evy. To the left, perhaps a quarter-mile away, was the Temple Cathedral, towering above the compound like a gleaming vertical ocean liner.

Standing on the lawn at the edge of the pool of light cast by one of the tall, sleek aluminum streetlights, their position would make them appear highly suspicious to any temple member who saw them.

“Let’s take a walk to the cathedral,” said Dylan.

They walked the shortest distance over the lawn to the sidewalk and then started in the direction of the cathedral. From the direction of the cathedral a man approached them. He looked at Dylan and Evy without expression.

“Evening, brother, sister,” he said.

“Evening, brother,” they replied.

The man brushed Dylan’s shoulder as he passed on the narrow sidewalk. Dylan and Evy kept walking.

“So far, so good,” Dylan whispered.

The cathedral entrance was fifty yards ahead. The building’s design evoked the great Gothic cathedrals of medieval Europe, with a long nave and a crossing transept. Gracefully arcing flying buttresses supported the walls and the steeply pitched copper roof. The design harkened back to a time centuries ago, but the construction was sumptuous and new, and reflected a high level of refinement and attention to detail.

There were a few people coming and going from the three deeply recessed arched doors that formed the main entrance. Dylan and Evy casually walked onto the square plaza that faced the entrance. Their presence did not arouse any curiosity. They took a deep breath and followed a middle-aged woman as she entered the great cathedral.

They found themselves in a low-ceiling reception area, which opened up to reveal the soaring vaulted ceiling of the nave. Hidden lights provided a golden glow illuminating the gilt columns, glittering stained glass windows, and the richly canopied pulpit. The grand center aisle led to the high altar, which was flanked by carved mahogany choir stalls and, on the right, the golden pipes of a massive church organ.
Dylan approached a bronze plaque on the wall. “Check this out,” he whispered to Evy. “It’s a tribute to Lucas Manson. Tells all about the cathedral.”

The plaque stated that the building measured four hundred twenty feet in length. Minister Manson personally selected this size because it was two feet longer than the Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris.

The nave soared to one hundred fifty feet, and the spire one hundred feet further. The transept, which crossed the nave, spanned one hundred thirty feet. Minister Manson specified this distance for a particular reason: the plan of the cathedral followed the proportions of Manson’s own body. The overall length of the building relative to the width was proportionally exactly the same as Minister Manson’s height and the width of his shoulders, and the dimensions of the cathedral’s apse were derived from measurements of the minister’s head.

Dylan and Evy turned away from the wall and looked around the immense space. Temple members and staff came and went; some were kneeling in prayer in the gracefully curved pews, some were gazing at the scenes from the Holy Books of Solario that were depicted in the stained glass windows, and others were cleaning or polishing the silver basins and lighting fixtures.

Placed along the side walls were statues of white marble. Most were larger than life-sized and depicted men and women in contemporary dress, although a few wore ancient robes.

The largest statue stood against the right side wall, midway down the nave. It was twenty feet high, sheathed in gold leaf, and mounted on a marble pedestal. The statue depicted Minister Lucas Manson, clad in Roman senatorial robes, holding a golden book in his left hand. His right hand was raised in a benediction. Dylan and Evy could not resist making a closer inspection, so they strolled down the right aisle to get a better look at this monument to the founder and leader of the Kingdom Seven Family Temple.

They approached the base of the statue. The figure of Manson loomed over them, shining and radiant.

“Magnificent, isn’t it,” said a woman’s voice. Dylan and Evy turned. The woman who spoke was about seventy, with white hair and jeweled teardrop-shaped eyeglasses.

She turned to Dylan. “How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Oh, we just arrived,” replied Dylan. “And you?”

“I’ve been here since the day we opened nineteen years ago. I came here to live and never left.”

“Never once?” asked Evy.

“No, why should I? Everything we need is right here in the Temple Center,” the woman said with a beatific smile. She did not look at Dylan or Evy, but continued to gaze admiringly at the towering figure of Minister Manson.

“He healed me,” the woman said.

“Oh really? What may I ask did he do?” replied Dylan evenly.

“When I arrived here I was very sick,” the woman stated. “I had been diagnosed with a tumor in my abdomen. My doctor in Albuquerque said it was very serious and wanted me to go for surgery and chemotherapy. My husband agreed with my doctor. But something inside of me told me that there was a different path. I had heard about Minister Manson. I came here with nothing. Just walked up to the gate. I told them my story and they let me in. The next day I went to a service right here in the cathedral. Minister Manson was preaching. During the service he called out for people to come forward who needed to be healed. I knew he was talking to me. I went to the front, up to the sanctuary. Minister Manson lay his hands on my shoulders. I felt like electricity was shooting through my body. Then I fainted, I guess, because I woke up on the floor. Right over there.”

The woman pointed to a spot on the polished marble floor near the pulpit.

“I never went back to the outside world. My cancer went away. I left my old life behind, like I was born all over again. When I came here I felt like I had arrived home after living in the desert for fifty years. My old life faded away like a dream and I gave all of my money to the temple. One day my husband came to the gate but they would not let him in. He went away after a while, and I never heard from him again.”

The woman turned to Dylan and Evy. “You seem like nice young people,” she said with sincerity. “I’m sure you’ll be happy here. It’s nice that you have each other.”

“Thank you,” replied Evy.

“My dear, I think we should be going,” said Dylan. He clasped Evy’s hand and gently steered her toward the main entrance. She willingly allowed herself to be guided. Her hand felt warm and relaxed.

They emerged through the tall arch of the center door onto the plaza in front of the cathedral.

“We need to check out the building with the chimney,” said Evy. Slowly, or so Dylan thought, she pulled her hand away from his and they were once again separated. They walked through the plaza and followed the sidewalk away from the cathedral.

Read more about Lucas Manson and Thomas A. Hauck HERE.

Copyright 2010 Thomas A. Hauck. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.