Short Story: The Secret Donor: A Padre Peters Mystery
This story continues the adventures of Padre Peters, a religious man on a mission to challenge evil. In this tale, he has brought together some of his colleagues in this effort. The members of the Religious Organization of Detectives (ROD) must act swiftly. Nevertheless, this story is fiction. Any resemblance to people or places real or imagined is strictly coincidental.
I thank Sean Dragon, Manatita44, and my wife for encouragement. I also thank other Hub Pages authors, such as Nikki Khan and Ms. Dora, for encouragement as well. Please, enjoy: The secret Donor, and leave comments if you prefer.
The Secret Donor: A Padre Peters Mystery
If you are reading this document, then congratulations. You are the new leader of ROD (Religious Organization of Detectives.) I pray you achieve the goal of reducing the strength of our ancient adversary. I’ll try to give as much advice in my journal as possible in this encrypted file while I sip my tea. In some ways, that sums up the nature of what you are about to read.
I have always fathomed the possibility of man someday figuring out how the quantum forces, and the immense forces (gravity, electromagnetic, etc.) manage to coalesce; I suspect the finding will be God is the binding source. His mysteries are on every scale. Yet, He did leave us clues. Otherwise, we would be bored. Our nature is to question and solve riddles. This thought drives me, and I pray such questions fuel your endeavors.
I take finding clues seriously when battling humanity's old foe. For this reason, I study various perspectives, always remaining grounded in my Christian faith. For example, I became fascinated with numbers, learning that my Savior, Jesus Christ, walked his ministry, forming a complete circle. This is consistent with God being Alpha and Omega, the starting and ending point of all things. It is also consistent with a few of the ancient Hindu Gods, often portrayed in circular representations. Other cultures also use a circle to show the eternal. Apparently, zero is more than nothing.
Of course, as I research, I check my email. My colleagues work around the world - Africa, Australia, Antarctica, and Europe. Remaining in contact is essential to our goal. One of those communications came from Padre Ulysses, based in Europe, requesting a meeting. Another was from Padre Montreal, located in the Caribbean, desiring to meet. They wanted to discuss this new development. I knew both men from the Academy in Argentina, where we surrendered our old names for new ones. We were all young followers of Jesus Christ dreaming of what we should do as adults. Today, we remind Satan he is defeated; we seek out his minions and give them a good thrashing.
That’s what I finished before writing this entry. Hidden in a cabin in a southern U.S. mountainous region, one of his demons had set up shop. Complete with wi-fi, the evil creature had tried to influence politics, spamming garbage across the internet. The dastardly beast was tapping into the cell phone towers, sending phony messages to get people to vote for some politician or another. I unplugged him.
Connecting with a foul being at the heart of the bond is chaotic. But that isn’t the nature of the beautiful valleys I saw on that mountain. They were testimonies to our interwoven dependency on the Creator. I regretted having to leave such a beautiful forest, but Asia beckoned me. Before going on with this journal entry, answer and think about the following question.
Do you think an over dependence on technology threatens our soul?
My colleagues had traveled the Himalayas, battling our foes with vigor. They had won new followers over to Christ. They worked through love with success. Now, we would tackle a whole new problem. I knew these men were ready for the task.
I arrived at our agreed upon location, a stunning waterfall, which offered privacy and seclusion. I could sense the men had already prayed and knew God's angels were with us. I hurried to join them.
“Greetings, Padre Peters,” called Padre Ulysses, “I know this isn’t our normal way to speak, but we need privacy.”
“Agreed.” I said, “This whole affair is troubling."
“Yes,” said Padre Montreal, “and I think time is growing short. Something is definitely afoot.” All of us were dressed in jeans and long-sleeved shirts, fascinated by the natural beauty we were beholding.
We don’t believe in formal wear. Jesus told humanity to come as you are, and we did. We sat on the stony ground near the waterfall and talked.
“I buried it, Padre Peters. The sack with the money is just behind this boulder. Padre Ulysses pushed back a huge rock. He and Padre Montreal quickly retrieved a sack.
“Where could this be coming from, Padre Peters? Who is sending us this cash?” Padre Montreal inquired as he meticulously formed little piles of money in U.S. bills on the ground.
We all examined the bills. I spoke quietly, “You know as well as I do. No one has the address of the academy or our branches but those who have attended it. I have my suspicions. No one should be sending you money directly anyway.” Both men nodded.
I scooped up some of the bills, stashing the cash in my pocket for later. I continued, “We must get away from here and get to the source of things. Let’s go to one of our bases in the United States, particularly, the east coast. I'll book our flights for the morning.”
Our flight was uneventful. After retrieving our belongings, we went straight from the airport to our old house in a remote area of a southern U.S. town. We went inside, locking the door.
“Padre Peters,” Padre Montreal asked, “we haven’t spoken on this subject for nearly twenty-four hours. Why come here?” His voice was knowing in tone.
I responded, “There is no risk of further infection from here, Padre Montreal. We can put a stop to this now.”
“You know what’s been happening?” Padre Ulysses said, in a slightly melodramatic voice. I nodded, and both men did, too. I had already figured out that these two were on the same page with me when we met in Asia. After all, they are two of the best.
I put the cash I had stashed from the meeting at the waterfall on a little round table. I reached and turned on the computer sitting there. I commanded, “All right. You have our attention. What do you want demon?”
The screen of the laptop remained black as night, shimmering in an unholy darkness. In very human inflections, the machine spoke, a pure rattling distorted sound of evil, “Well, James Peters, I am honored. How do you like my gifts of money? You know you boys can’t just jet around the world for free. Somebody’s got to carry that bill. Show some appreciation.”"
"Silence, demon!" said Padre Montreal sternly, “We are not having any party. You don't visit a person's home without an invitation.”
“Of course not, French-Canadian super stud. You want me to leave.” The speakers on the laptop shook with a violence which rocked the entire room. The thing hooted in delight, “Give up my cozy place? This technology is mine to shine by and by. You’ll fly away. I'm shutting you boys down.”
We were hurled through the air, out the door, and crashed beneath trees. I checked to see if my team mates were hurt. They were not. Initiating prayers the moment the hellish winds began saved our lives.
After giving my team directions, we hastened back through the door. We formed a triangle around the table, praying and quoting biblical passages. (Three is a sacred spiritual number, too.)
The monster cursed our families while screaming at God. It tried to push us out of the building again; but we were like mighty oaks planted beside the water. We would not bend or be moved in any direction.
With a shriek which would dwarf the winds of a tremendous hurricane, the thing vanished. Afterwards, We had a debriefing.
Once we were seated, I spoke, “There was only one way it could have had our locations, the demon had to invade our secure internet connections. Likewise, the Bible teaches us we don’t battle flesh creatures, but spirits. One is noted as being the Prince of the Air, which includes telecommunications. Of course, I knew he was hiding there for easy access to us through the internet.”
“Yes,” went on Padre Ulysses, “I remember reading a finding by scientists that if aliens wanted to destroy mankind, why send battle ships? It's easier to infiltrate our internet and place bugs there to cause our self-destruction.”
Padre Montreal affirmed, “Our enemy would try the same trick.”
“Ascend to our top levels of communications to confuse us and ultimately compromise ROD.” I stated, “Maybe it did not read enough. The demon would have discovered we have global donors, affiliated with many religious denominations. We pick up the cash personally, avoiding the mail. It wasn’t real anyway.”
I pointed to the table. The cash had turned into a pile of paper. My team mates smiled, “Money is the root of this demon’s evil. Money, influence, power – those evil beings never tire of the same script.” Said an exhausted Padre Montreal.
I gave my team new assignments, and we held a devotion before parting.
Truthfully, technology is a tool. It can encourage big change; It’s a healer and a destroyer of lives. We need technology to assist us with stitching together the various parts of life. It in itself is not a bad thing. Who knows? I may combat the Duke of Tacos next week. Demons love glorious names and grand frauds. Regardless, I’ll need my computer to help me put it out of commission. For these reasons, keep technological marvels in your tool box of necessities, like the Bible. Good luck to you, and enjoy a cup of tea when you can.