Other Worlds: The Turner Diaries, Chapter 15

The Turner Diaries, Chapter 15
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Chapter Fifteen.

March 28, 1993. I'm finally back in the swing of things now.
Over the weekend Katherine answered many questions for me and
gave me the details, especially about local developments, which I
failed to get from Henry Friday.
While I was locked up the work on our communications
equipment had to go on, of course, and now there are two other
well-qualified people in the area handling that task. But there's still
plenty of technical work left for me. Bill is a fine mechanical
craftsman and gunsmith, but he can't handle the ordnance jobs that
require chemical or electronic techniques. He gave me a long list
of requests for special devices which came into our unit while I
was in prison and which he had been obliged to put aside.
We went over the list carefully last night and decided which items
are most important for the current needs of the Organization. I then
made up my own list of supplies and equipment needed to begin
work.
The top-priority items on Bill's list of requests are radio-
controlled detonators and time-delay detonators and igniters. The
Organization has been improvising in the latter category-and
getting too high a percentage of misfires. We want a time-delay
device which is adjustable from a few minutes to a day or more
and which is 100 per cent certain.
Another category of items requested is disguised bombs and
incendiary devices. It is now just about impossible to get into any
government or media facility without walking through a metal-
detector, and all packages and mail are routinely scanned by x-ray.
This will require some cleverness, but I already have a few ideas.
And then there is Bill's own project, on which he needs some
technical assistance: counterfeiting! The Organization is already
successfully printing money on a fairly large scale on the West
Coast, Bill said, and they want him to begin doing the same thing here.
I understand now why the economic status of the Organization
seems to have improved so much in the last year!

Actually, since
we switched to large-scale actions we've begun tapping some new
sources of contributions-mostly fat cats buying "insurance," I
suspect-but we are apparently still finding it useful to print some of
our own money.
Whatever genius is running our West Coast counterfeiting
operation made up a very thorough set of instructions, which Bill
showed me. The guy must have worked for the Secret Service or
the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. He really seems to know his
business. (Note to the reader: The "Bureau of Engraving and
Printing" was the government agency which produced paper
money in the United States, and the "Secret Service" was a police
agency which combatted counterfeiting, among other things. As
we know, counterfeiting was later used by the Organization not
only to supply its units with funds but also to disrupt the general
economy. In the last days of the Great Revolution, the
Organization was dumping such huge quantities of counterfeit
money that the government, in desperation, outlawed all paper
money, requiring all monetary transactions to take place either in
coin or by check. This move played havoc with public morale and
was one of the factors leading to the final success of the
Revolution.)
Bill has already finished setting up nearly everything; he has a
really fine shop for precision printing. He just needs help with the
fluorescence problem. The instructions tell him what chemical
additives to put in his ink, but not where to get them. And he is not
sure about how to make and use an ultraviolet inspection unit for
checking the finished product. That won't be hard.
Our new working and living arrangement is radically different
from the one we had before. Instead of sneaking around
"underground," we are right out in the open now. There's a neon
sign in the window of the printing shop, and it's listed in the Yellow Pages.

During the day the shop is "open for business," with
Carol behind the counter, but Bill keeps his prices so high that just
enough work to maintain appearances comes in. His real work
takes place after hours, usually in the basement, where the armory
is.
The four of us live above the shop, like we did over the old place,
but we don't have to keep the windows blacked out. And Bill's
pickup truck stays parked right on the street in front. So far as the
world is concerned, we are just two young couples in the printing
business together.
The trick, of course, was in establishing false identities that would
stand up to System scrutiny, but the Organization has developed an
admirable degree of expertise along that line. We all have Social
Security cards, and two of us have driver's licenses. The cards and
licenses are genuine (I have heard some unpleasant stories about
how the Organization obtained them), so we can open bank
accounts, pay taxes, and do other things like anyone else.
I just have to remember that my new name is-ugh!- "David J.
Bloom." I am really being ribbed about that. Fortunately, the
photograph on the driver's license is indistinct enough to pass for
me, as long as I keep my hair dyed.
The Organization had no choice about establishing new identities
for all of us who are underground. A person without a documented
identity simply can't function in this society any longer. One can't
buy groceries or even ride a bus without showing either a driver's
license or one of the new identity cards the government has begun
issuing.
It's still possible to get by with a fake in most cases, but the
computerized system will be completed in another few months,
and then fakes will automatically be detected. So the Organization
decided to do it right and give us "genuine" credentials, even
though that's a slow and difficult job. A few special units handle
that task with cold-blooded ruthlessness, but the demand for new
credentials still far exceeds the supply.

It also appears that the System has become even more ruthless in its campaign against us.
A number of our people-perhaps as many
as fifty for the whole country-have been murdered by professional
killers in the last four months. It's hard to fix the exact total,
because some we suspect have been killed have just disappeared,
and no body has been found.
When our people first began to disappear or to be found floating
in the river with their hands tied behind their backs and six or
seven bullet holes in their heads, there was a widespread
assumption among the Organization rank and file that these
killings were internal disciplinary actions by the Organization
itself. In fact, there was a period last fall when we were losing
more members because of disciplinary executions than anything
else. That was a time when morale was very low, and it was
necessary to use extreme methods to convince waverers to remain
steadfast in their obligations to the Organization.
But it was immediately apparent to Revolutionary Command -
and it soon became apparent to everyone else-that a new element
had entered the picture. From our contacts inside one of the
Federal police agencies we learned that our people are being killed
by two groups: a special Israeli assassination squad and an
assortment of Mafia "hit men" under contract to the government of
Israel. Where both these groups are concerned, U.S. police have
been given a "hands off" order by the FBI. (Note to the reader: The
"Mafia" was a criminal confederation, composed primarily of
Italians and Sicilians but usually masterminded by Jews, which
flourished in the United States in the eight decades prior to the
Great Revolution. There were several half-hearted governmental
efforts to stamp out the Mafia during this period, but the
unrestricted capitalism then flourishing provided ideal conditions
for large-scale, organized crime and its concomitant political
corruption.

The Mafia remained in existence until virtually all its
members-more than 8,000 men-were rounded up and executed in a
single, massive operation by the Organization during the mopping-
up period which followed the Revolution.)All the victims so far have been among our "legals." Apparently
someone in the FBI gives the names of persons suspected of being
members of the Organization but not yet under arrest to someone
in the Israeli embassy, and they take it from there.
We have made some reprisals-in New Orleans, for example. After
two of our "legals," one a prominent attorney there, were murdered
Mafia-style about six weeks ago, we mined the nightclub which
served as the local Mafia hangout. When the bombs went off and
the place burst into flames during a birthday celebration for one of
their "underbosses," the fleeing patrons were met with merciless
hails of machine-gun fire from our people, who were stationed on
rooftops across from the only two exits. More than 400 persons
lost their lives there that night, including approximately 60
members of the Mafia.
But this new threat still remains very much with us, and it has
severely damaged the morale of those of our members and
partisans who are exposed to it-namely those who, by retaining
their status as law-abiding citizens and operating under their own
identities, do not enjoy the anonymity of us in the underground. It
is clear that we will soon have to move against the source of the
threat.
April 2. Supply problem solved-at least temporarily. It required
another one of those stickup operations which I really detest. I
wasn't as nervous this time as when Henry and I pulled our first
one-that seems half a lifetime ago-but I still didn't like it.
Bill and I broke our list of needed items up into three categories,
according to their source. About two-thirds of the chemical items
we needed were not readily available on the general-consumer
market and would have to come from a chemical supply house.

Then, I wanted at least 100 wristwatches for timing devices, and
they would cost us too much if we simply purchased them. Finally,
there were a number of electronic and electrical components, some items of general hardware, and a few readily available chemicals,
all of which could be purchased without difficulty and within the
resources of our budget.
I spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday gathering up the items in
the last category.
The chemical problem was also solved Wednesday. That had
been a worry, because suppliers of laboratory and industrial
chemicals are now required to check out all new customers with
the political police, just as are suppliers of explosives. I'd just as
soon avoid that sort of scrutiny. But I checked with WFC and a
found that one of our "legals" in Silver Spring has a small
electroplating shop and could order what I need from his regular
supplier. I'll pick the stuff up from him Monday.
But the watches! I knew exactly what I wanted for our timers, and
I wanted enough of the same style so that the timers could be
standardized, both for efficiency in building them and precisely
known behavior in operation. So Katherine and I robbed a
warehouse in northeast D.C. yesterday and got 200 of them.
It took two days of telephoning just to find the watches I was
looking for. Then they had to be sent down to the Washington
warehouse from Philadelphia. I told the man in Washington I was
in a big hurry for them and would send someone out right away
with a certified check for $12,000 to pick them up. He said they
would be waiting for me in the front office. And they were.
I wanted Bill to go with me, but he has been tied down with work
at the shop all week. And Katherine really wanted to go. The girl
has a wild streak in her that someone who doesn't know her well
would never suspect.

First, one of Katherine's makeup jobs, to protect my "David
Bloom" identity and her own. Identity under identity under
identity-I've almost forgotten who Earl Turner is or what he
actually looks like!
Then we had to swipe a vehicle. That only took a few minutes,
and we followed the usual procedure: Park the pickup in a big
shopping center, walk to the other side of the parking lot,
find a car which is unlocked, and get in. I used a small bolt-cutter to cut the
armored cable to the ignition switch under the dashboard, and then
it was a matter of only a few seconds to find the right wires in the
cable and attach clip leads.
I had hoped there would be no violence at the warehouse, but my
wish was not to be granted. We presented ourselves to the manager
and asked for our package. He asked for the certified l check. "I
have it," I said, "and I'll give it to you as soon as I check to see that
the watches are the ones I ordered."
My plan was to take the watches and just walk out the door,
leaving the manager yelling for his check. But when the man came
back with our package, two husky warehouse workers came with
him, and one took up a position between us and the door. They
were taking no chances.
I opened the package, checked the contents, and drew my pistol.
Katherine also drew her gun, and she waved the man near the door
away. But then the door would not open when she tried it!
She turned her gun on the worker and he quickly explained:
"They have to push the buzzer in the office to unlock the door."
I whirled back toward the manager and snarled at him, "Get this
door open now, or I'll pay you for these watches with hot lead!"
But he nimbly ducked out another doorway, from the office into
the storage area, and slammed a heavy metal door behind him
before I could react.
I then ordered the female clerk at the desk to push the buzzer for
the door. She, however, continued to sit as rigidly as a statue, her
mouth wide open in an expression of horror.
Beginning to feel desperate, I decided to shoot the lock off the
door. It took four shots to do it, partly because my nervous haste
spoiled my aim.
We ran to the car, but the warehouse manager was already there.
The bastard was letting the air out of our tires!
I slammed the barrel of my revolver down on his head and sent
him sprawling in the gravel. Fortunately, he had only partially
deflated one tire, and the car could still be driven.

Katherine and I wasted no more time getting away from there.
What a life!
It wasn't until this afternoon, when I had finished assembling and
testing the first timer, that I was convinced that the fancy watches I
wanted were worth the hassle it took to get them. The new timer
works perfectly; it makes a positive, low-resistance contact every
time, and I am sure it will reduce our percentage of misfires to
practically zero.
I also got Bill's UV inspection unit working for him, and he will
be ready to print his first greenbacks as soon as I pick up his ink
additives Monday. His product won't be perfect, but it should be
close enough. In particular, it should pass all the standard tests
used in banks to spot counterfeit bills. They'll have to take it to a
lab to tell it's phony.
And I finished designing three different bomb mechanisms that
should pass an X-ray examination without arousing suspicion. One
of them fits into an umbrella handle-batteries, timer, and all. The
main shaft of the umbrella can be filled with thermite if one wants
an incendiary device, or the handle can be detached and used as a
detonator. Another timer-detonator combination will be built into a
pocket transistor radio (that one can also be fired by a tone-coded
radio signal), and the third will be an electric wristwatch, with the
detonator and booster molded into the wrist band and fired by the
watch's built-in battery. In each case, of course, the bulk explosives
must be brought into an area separately, but they can be disguised
in many different ways-cast like plaster, for example, into the
shape of any familiar object, even painted the right color.