Eye of the Syndicate

by Drew Avera

  “No thank you,” I replied. “I don’t know if this will make any difference to you, but I think you made the right decision opening your shop here. One day, things will be back to normal and you’ll be glad you stayed.”

  I heard her scoff behind me. “I hope you’re right about that. I spent my life savings to come here. I would hate to lose everything on an ill-fated decision.”

  “Me too,” I muttered and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  My plan was to walk the area as night came and get an idea of how long it took for the criminal activity to rise to the surface. Based on the reports Halem sent me, I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long, though I imagined tonight might differ considering the news of Akran’s attack and her position in the World Council. The smart criminals might stay holed up to keep the spotlight off of them.

  “I’ll settle for the stupid ones,” I said under my breath as I made my way across the street to examine the graffiti more closely. It was obvious to me that the “artist” lacked in skill and originality, but I could see the faintest hint of consistency in each tagging. It seemed to me that the artist was practicing and didn’t see much point in covering the defiled mess he or she left behind.

  I just hoped that my standing here would be enough to draw them out. I was trespassing, after all. If they truly owned this corner, then they would feel the need to protect it.

  I leaned against the rust-colored brick wall and gazed down both ends of the street, but my eyes kept finding their way to the waitress at the coffeeshop as she closed up for the night. I tried not to make it noticeable as I watched her, but more than once she glanced back in my direction and nervously went back to work. Eventually, I thought it best to disappear for a while and walk further south, making my way around a large block of buildings before returning to that lonely corner. The scene was the same all the way around, closed storefronts, some abandoned, some tagged with graffiti, but all empty. It was truly becoming a ghost town. When I arrived at the corner near the coffeeshop, the lights were out, and it was empty.

  Just like me.

  I felt a tinge of guilt for not following the waitress to ensure her safety, but what I had planned would bring some hope back to the Southern Sector.

  Twelve

  Micah

  With the news agencies onboard with the narrative I wanted put forth to the people, I felt as if I could finally catch my breath. Clenist had no one to stand in as the speaker on behalf of the World Council; no one to play the role of Pontiff for our settlement of civilization on Mars. With the void of leadership staring blankly into our future, I casually obtained that position due largely to no one else being ambitious enough to take on the mantle. It was strange how reluctance turned into jealousy once my esteemed colleagues recognized how much authority it granted me to the people; and to the Archean members of the council.

  I took their snide comments and jealous sneers on the chin with a faint smile. They could carry that burden and leave me to do what I set out to do. The first step of the plan was to exude confidence that I could handle the pressures of holding a seat at the table of authority. With proper guidance, I did just that in remarkable time, and now, with Clenist under my control I was put in a better position to steer control of the World Council to us; to me. The second step was already in motion and I hardly had to lift a finger to initiate it.

  “Are you ready to address to media, sir?” Khari asked from his desk across the room. The clutter of files and random paperwork would have driven most into a storm of anxiety, but he seemed to thrive on the chaos. It was normal conversation with the general public that sent him into a stupor.

  “Certainly,” I replied as I slid my chair out from under the mostly empty desk and stood up. I took a moment to shake out the wrinkles in my clothes and rubbed a lint-free pad across the poly-fiber suit. There was an expectation for how the voice of “the people” should look and I was not about to let that detail slip from my fingers. I took the role I played seriously, as expected.

  “I have your notes ready,” he said as he ushered forward and handed me a small piece of cardstock. The notes were printed on a single side in a coded font which was difficult to read without a sensory augmentation. I pressed the tiny bulge on my temple and activated it, scanning the notes uninhibited. Technology is the salvation of humanity, I thought with a smirk as I read of the notes.

  “How are the citizens reacting to the news that this was not a coordinated attack on a member of the World Council?”

  Khari shrugged. “We don’t have consistent data for that. I believe everyone is afraid that an attack took place, and not necessarily to whom it was targeted towards.” He mumbled something else, but I was too caught into my own line of thinking to consider it.

  “We can use that,” I interrupted, placing the card into my pocket in case I needed it later. I committed most of the narrative to memory at this point. Khari may have done the leg work, but he did so at my beck and call. “Initiate another poll, but ensure we have people in place to say what we want them to say. We can use the media to push this message a bit more subliminally to sell it to the people on the fence about what happened.”

  “Yes, sir. Is there anything else you need before the press conference?”

  I patted him on the shoulder, taking note of the small flinch. “No, I think you have prepared me well enough. It’s just on me to put on my persuasive charm,” I said.

  “Indeed,” Khari replied.

  Together we stepped out of my office and left the building to address Clenist with the backdrop of the World Council building looming behind me, the crest of the old-world government in brilliant display. For all anyone outside of government knew, the World Council still existed, the reshaping of it was merely a necessity given the amount of corruption which seeped in over the years. What they did not know was how the World Council was a cover for something more mysterious and dangerous. The rise of the Syndicate propelled us to new levels of success, but also drove us towards a form of tyranny that no one would accept if they knew it was coming.

  “Keep the people stupid,” I whispered, repeating the words of my mentor when I was brought into the World Council.

  Even those whom I worked beside missed the clues as to what we were really doing. Not all could be as enlightened as I was and make it as far as I have. People like Akran Tyrel would crumble under the pressure. Though, she served a purpose of which she was brilliantly led through, blinded by her own sense of ambition. She was what most would consider a useful idiot. Her unwavering allegiance to a sense of ambiguous morality clouded her judgement. She would eventually protest, but by the time she realized what happened, it would be too late.

  Her fate was already sealed.

  This attack could have derailed that plan, but now that I had regained control, I was able to save it and manipulate what happened for my own needs. It was as if fate dictated in my favor despite the blundering idiots at my feet.

  I made my way across the garden area and to the podium as it stood before a small contingency of reporters. Each one sat with their legs crossed and their recording devices primed to take in every nuance of my address. I preferred this intimate setting. I liked how it disarmed them with its serenity and the smell of flowers dancing to a melody of fragrance beneath their noses. This helped shape how they viewed the person giving them the news in a positive manner.

  Psychological manipulation did not begin with communication, it started with atmosphere, and I was the master of this methodology.

  “Good evening,” I said as I stepped up to the podium.

  All four reporters greeted me in kind before settling into the appropriate silence for me to conduct my address. We had performed this charade countless times and each reporter fell into the rhythm of it without prompting. It was one of many ways that I controlled my audience. The next would be in the pre-written questions they knew they could ask if given the platform to do so.

  “To the citizens of Clenist, I know you a
re afraid of the news regarding the attack on Councilwoman Akran Tyrel. When I woke to word of the assault, I felt the timbre of fear in my core. What kind of world are we living in for such evil deeds to exist?”

  I paused for a moment to let the question sink in to the listeners outside of the garden.

  “I tell you, times are not what they were. Blind ambition dictates the paths of those without structure, and I do not want that to be the future for Clenist. I have it on good authority that the World Council is negotiating a budget to bring more law enforcement into Clenist to make our streets safer, especially while the Southern Sector undergoes construction efforts to repair the power grid. This will go a long way towards giving stability to our city while boosting the economy.

  “Once the Southern Sector is fully functional, then we can bring in more citizens, and jobs to our great city. Our vision for Clenist is not waivered by this attack, nor should your esteem for our city be painted by what occurred. We are in this together, and the work to restore lawfulness begins in the building you see behind me. You have my word that we are doing everything in our power and authority to ensure your safety. Thank you on behalf of my brothers and sisters in the World Council.”

  I stepped back as I concluded my address, allowing the reporters to know it was time for questions. Like a well-rehearsed cast, the first reporter promptly raised his hand, seeking my permission to speak.

  I granted it. “Yes, Pardo?”

  “Councilman Troth, earlier today a body was discovered which had some resemblance to the attacker Councilwoman Tyrel described to law enforcement. Do you care to comment on that?”

  I smiled. “I heard the report, but we have not verified if the body was in fact of the suspect the councilwoman described. I’m afraid it is too early to speculate. Though, the sector the body was found in does align him in the vicinity where she was attacked. Time will tell after a thorough investigation concludes as to the identity of the attacker and of the body. Thank you for your question.”

  The next question came from Kila as she raised her hand and waited for me to acknowledge her. “Councilman Troth, how long before Councilwoman Tyrel returns to her duties?”

  This was not a question I deemed necessary to ask, but it was harmless enough. “I think it best to give Councilwoman Tyrel a few days to recover and allow her to make that determination with the assistance of her practitioner. I’m not a doctor and don’t care to speculate. With that said, I know she is eager to continue to work for the people of Clenist. I look forward to her return as well.” I stepped back again, my cue to the reporters that I was done answering questions. They immediately fell silent and still, waiting for me to speak.

  “I’m afraid that concludes the address. I have pressing business as we await the arrival of the prestigious Pontiff Scrimpshire in the coming weeks. I assure you, his visit to Clenist will leave a lasting impression on him. Have a great afternoon.”

  Khari nodded as I turned and walked in his direction. The address went painlessly as I expected, but the stray question did pester me. Why would Akran’s return to duty need a date assigned to it? She was attacked last night, it was not conceivable that she would be up to returning to work given the extent of her injuries. The only reasonable answer I had as to why that question was prompted was to test me.

  I didn’t know for sure who was behind it, but I had a sneaking suspicion. If I was right, then it was a gross overstep of boundaries to try and unsettle me on my platform to the people. I knew I performed well under pressure, but the boldness to try me at such an event rattled me.

  “Ask Kila where her question came from during the debrief,” I whispered.

  Khari nodded. “That was not a vetted question. I assure you of that.”

  “I know,” I hissed as I walked off, my heels clacking against the stone sidewalk leading back to the World Council building. If my suspicions were right, then my hold over the media was slipping. The seemingly harmless question would go unnoticed by the people, but it didn’t fool me for a moment. Someone was infiltrating my command over Clenist.

  That someone would pay dearly.

  Thirteen

  Akran

  I dressed for the day with the same drive which got me out of bed every day. I knew I was not expected to go into work, but a tinge of guilt for not continuing plagued me like a shadow over my soul. To make things worse, I felt worse as I tried weening myself off medication and alcohol. I just wanted to curl up into a ball as anxiety and insecurity took their toll on me, but I could not stay cooped up in my apartment any longer. I was hungover and hurting, but I needed the distraction that came with work. I needed to prove to myself that I was not a prisoner in my own home, or in my city.

  I needed to know it was a one-time incident and that I was safe to go out into the world as I had been two days ago.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Roslyn asked as I stepped out of the bedroom. He spent the last two nights in my guest room to help take care of me. It was a kind gesture, but he had a prickly way of going about it. It was a mix of mannerisms and sly comments that led me to believe he had better things to do. Of course, it could have been my imagination manipulating my emotions. Either way, I was grateful to not be alone, and his presence pulled me out of my self-destructive routine where I wanted to drink myself numb.

  It wasn’t the first time.

  “What else am I going to do?” I said as I tucked my keys into the pocket of my jacket. I gripped them tightly, feeling the ridges carved into the metal with my thumb. It was reminiscent of when I used to cut myself. It had been years since the last time I did it, but the emotional storm tormenting me after the attack placed me right back into the helpless feeling I had as a teenager struggling to deal with everything life threw at me.

  I had someone help me back then, someone who recognized the signs of my cry for help. Somewhere between now and then I misplaced the tools they taught me to cope. That helplessness only perpetuated the madness inside of me.

  “The doctor said you should rest,” he replied without the smugness of his impromptu intervention from the day before.

  “And you know how my head gets flooded with images of what happened if I stay locked inside. This is more for my mental health than it is to prove anything at work.” It was true, sort of. With Halem coming to Clenist, everyone I worked with was bursting at the seams trying to ensure his visit would go without a hitch. being involved with him in the past put more of a toll on me than I would have admitted, but I put on my brave face and did what was expected. Perhaps I do have something to prove, I thought guiltily.

  “I wasn’t implying that you had anything to prove, Akran,” he said. “I only meant that if it is simply your desire to leave your apartment, then we can go and do anything you want. I just don’t think it’s wise for you to return to work and deal with the stress…or the stares.”

  There it was, his lowkey way of trying to guilt me into not following through with what I wanted to do. So typical. I immediately shook the thought from my head, knowing full-well that was not his intention, but it was difficult to argue against the voice in my head that turned everything into an assault on my psyche. I was practically raised in a controlling home where my father had the final word on everything. It was difficult to not see that trait in other men, no matter how hard I tried.

  “The sooner I return to work, the better it will be for everyone,” I muttered, not believing it myself, much less expecting him to believe it too. I hoped he would let it go, but I knew better.

  “So, you want to take the anxiety and pain over what you went through, and just rip it off like a Band-Aid? I don’t think it works like that, honey,” he said as he grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch and put it on with a huff. “You need time to process and heal. Diving back into normalcy is counterproductive.”

  I scoffed. Every time he called me “honey” it reminded me of when we first met, before either of us were brought into the murky world of the Syndicat
e. We both naively believed the World Council was the face of the governing body for Mars, but the truth was much darker than either of us thought. Money and power dictated everything. Coming from nothing put me in the unique position of being wowed into compliance. I wanted the power promised to me by my inclusion into the system. I hardly batted an eye when I witnessed the questionable deeds of my fellow “councilmembers”. It was a difficult secret to keep to myself, but I had the forethought to not say anything to anyone, except for Roslyn.

  His response that night was one simple word. “Honey,” he had said with his hands on his hips and his jaw slack. I recognized in that single word, and his expression, that he had said it all that night. It was a warning, but it was also his willingness to help protect me at all cost.

  “I know you’re right, but I need to do this my way, all right?”

  He straightened the lapel on his jacket and glanced at me with his head still facing down. “I knew that since you walked out of that door this morning. I just wouldn’t do what I promised if I didn’t try to save you from yourself.”

  I stepped over to him and kissed his cheek. “I love you for that, you know?”

  He couldn’t pretend that didn’t illicit a smirk as his face blushed. “I know,” he said after a moment. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe the hustle and bustle will convince you where I have failed.”

  “Not likely,” I replied as I grabbed the door and pulled it open. “But it’s nice that you think so.”

  Fourteen

  Halem

  I woke with a start.

  It had been months since I experienced the recurring nightmare which plagued me for years after my wife’s murder. What caused it to return had to be the fact I had been thinking of her so much lately. Those thoughts brought forth more than just idle guilt, but the nighttime torment as well.