Passing the challenges Father Gabriel and the Commission had put before me, I’d finally earned the right to learn the specifics regarding the unique calling and activities of the Western Light. Not its fellowship or religious activities; those mirrored ours, as did the Eastern Light’s. To the unsuspecting tourist or resident of the nearby ski towns, the Western Light was nothing more than a group of religious zealots who kept to themselves. Those people had no idea of the billion-dollar operation happening in their midst.
The Light’s tax-exempt status, as well as the freedoms afforded by separation of church and state, kept all of The Light’s campuses a mystery to outsiders. Father Gabriel might have stated in the beginning that God had given him visions of The Light’s current greatness; however, even as an Assemblyman, I wondered if he had ever fathomed its current magnitude.
The Northern Light was the brightest, the most profitable. However, this campus, the Western Light, was doing better than many Fortune 500 companies, a fact most would disbelieve based solely on its outward appearance. The Western Light’s deceptive facade was even more important than ours. Though driving to the Western Light was difficult, flyovers were much more common in Montana than Alaska.
While our community concentrated on the production of product, the Western Light had a twofold goal. Primarily it packaged and distributed the pharmaceuticals. Its second goal was production of Preserve the Light preserves. Most of the females of the Western Light worked around the clock—literally, in shifts—producing and canning preserves. The jams and jellies were made from local berries, grown in the community. The Western Light followers who weren’t part of the chosen worked tirelessly in the gardens, the greenhouses, and the preserve plant, producing and canning. If they weren’t working there, they were in the packaging plant, preparing the pharmaceuticals for distribution.
Production of the preserves never stopped. To the outside world it was the acceptable source of income for The Light. To those who were chosen to understand, Preserve the Light was the cover for the illegal distribution of pharmaceuticals created at the Northern Light.
Members of the Western Light’s Assembly and Commission organized all the logistics. Father Gabriel had chosen the location of this campus perfectly, as Canada made the perfect market for low-cost medications. With Brothers Raphael and Benjamin’s research, the pills and capsules created by the followers of the Northern Light were indistinguishable from those produced by mainstream pharmaceutical giants. Since Father Gabriel’s followers worked not for worldly goods or money, but to maintain their standing in the community, production costs were minimal. The followers believed they were making the medications to help others.
They were, just not the others they thought.
When I first entered The Light, it was through the smallest campus, the Eastern Light, in Detroit. At that time I was led to assume that the production and sale of illegal drugs was the focus. Over the last three years I’d learned that illegal drugs were present, but only as the smallest piece of The Light’s revenue pie. The crack and meth produced and sold through the Eastern Light were more of a diversion—Father Gabriel’s backup plan. If the time ever came when the operation was discovered, each campus had enough paraphernalia to give the perception of a large illegal drug network. The investigation would satisfy the FBI and ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Though they would boast the closing down of a large illegal drug organization, in reality they would have stopped only the tertiary source of income.
Even the preserves made more profit.
Until my recent promotion, I hadn’t known the breadth and scope of the entire operation, governed by Father Gabriel, on three campuses, with twelve Commissioners—four at each campus—and thirty-six Assemblymen—twelve at each campus. The hundreds of non-chosen followers were completely unaware.
Being Father Gabriel’s pilot offered me access that others didn’t enjoy. I had the pleasure of flying to Father Gabriel’s mansion outside Detroit, though I was never invited up to the big house; I’d seen the telecasts that gave the appearance of mundane surroundings while knowing they were recorded in the large luxurious mansion. Keeping those secrets had been some of my first tests. Passing those first tests undoubtedly aided my rise to the chosen.
Sharing my knowledge wouldn’t benefit anyone. It would result not only in my banishment, but also in the banishment of whomever I told, including other members of the chosen. I wouldn’t nor could I risk that. Micah and I were the only followers at the Northern Light who saw things away from that campus.
Each challenge presented to me was a test or a stepping stone. The only way to access the knowledge of the inner workings of The Light was to succeed. With the addition of a wife, I hadn’t only passed one of the final tests, I’d become vulnerable. That vulnerability made me less of a threat, less likely to breach The Light’s trust.