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As Scientology became more popular, Hubbard sold licenses to operate local missions and churches, which offered more advanced courses. Each such franchise was required to send 10% of its income to the parent church. Government attorneys who have studied the organization figure that more than a million people have been "audited" worldwide. Estimated fees: $300 per hour.
Haunted by his fears of such "enemies" as the FBI and the IRS, Hubbard in 1966 set up headquarters in a 330-ft. converted British ferry. He took nearly 500 Scientologists with him aboard the Apollo, including children signed over to the church by their parents and, according to defectors, controlled by brainwashing techniques. Aboard the Apollo, Hubbard acted out his wartime fantasies as he sailed the world's oceans. He was addressed as "the Commodore," his bevy of young women servants were called "Commodore's Messenger Org" (for organization), while his uniformed "Sea Org" elite formed his crew. Tonja Burden, 23, a onetime Hubbard favorite, contends that anyone breaking a rule was placed in foul chain lockers below deck: "I saw one boy held in there for 30 nights, crying and begging to be released."
Hubbard came ashore in 1975 and attempted, unsuccessfully, to take over the city government of Clearwater, Fla. Meanwhile, his followers set up secret bases in Dunedin, Fla., and in La Quinta and Gilman Hot Springs in Southern California. Hubbard spent most of his time hiding in the desert during the late 1970s, a tan Valiant auto and $500,000 in cash were always at hand for a sudden getaway. He supervised the production of Scientology films for the faithful. He also stashed money overseas, setting up holding companies in Liberia, Luxembourg and Liechtenstein, and awaited what former intimates call "the all-clear date," when his legal troubles would be over and he could publicly return to direct his flock.
The all clear never came, and, in fact, Hubbard's problems grew worse. A complex paramilitary organization (he had secret police, finance police and watchers of the secret police) kept control of his followers, even at times sending them to church prisons for rehabilitation. But there were growing disaffection within his ranks and legal pressures from without.
In March 1980, Hubbard disappeared, apparently in the company of two married associates, Pat and Ann Broeker; since then none of the three has reportedly been seen by other Scientologists. His wife, who claims she feels no ill will toward Hubbard even though he let her take the rap for spying on the Government, says she hears from him regularly by mail. Some old acquaintances maintain that they have received letters from him, one as recent as three weeks ago.