Eye of the Syndicate

by Drew Avera

  He probably expects us to grovel before his acute bravery afterwards.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Pontiff?” Zeravan asked.

  I hardly wanted him to convince Halem otherwise, but I felt a certain level of responsibility to back up Zeravan’s plea as we stood before other members of the council, not all of them people I could trust. It was interesting to me that Zeravan spent the first part of the trip keeping his mouth shut, simply nodding and grinning at every word fluttering from Halem’s lips as I led the tour of the city. He probably saw an opportunity to kiss Halem’s ass and jumped head first for it.

  Despite his effort, my heart nearly skipped a beat as Halem nodded enthusiastically. “I’m one-hundred-percent sure.” He answered, emboldened by his own defiance to decorum, and almost surely expecting to relive a part of his glory days as an officer of the law.

  It hugged the curb of pathetic, but it played into my hand perfectly. I no longer had to find a way to lure him out as I planned with my department heads before his arrival. They thought it would be impossible. I smiled thinking of how they would respond knowing I hadn’t lifted a finger to steer him towards his demise.

  “You heard the Pontiff, he wants to experience what our citizens are exposed to every night. I think this is a show of great leadership that our citizens will appreciate,” I said, placing my hand on Halem’s shoulder for a moment before he cut his eyes to me. I let it slide off nonchalant as I addressed the members of the council. “Other than Pontiff Scrimpshire and me, who would like to tag along on this expedition? This could be a learning experience for all of us.”

  “I would,” Akran answered, almost too quickly to have given it any thought whatsoever. Half a dozen sets of eyes fell on her with shock, but Halem expressed something else. Pride perhaps?

  Figures, I thought, she craves his attention enough to return to where she was assaulted. Idiot.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea considering what happened here?” I asked, giving her an out to save face and not come across so utterly desperate. After all, this wasn’t going to be a joyride. I had my own motives for separating Halem from anyone who would ally with him. I wanted a clean break, in more ways than one.

  “Yes,” she answered, “I’ll have my assistant, Roslyn, come with me.” She folded her arms over her chest, feigning defiance when I knew she was scared, but needed to prove something to someone and I was almost positive it wasn’t herself.

  “Fine,” I said flatly, not meaning to. “You may have to ask Roslyn to step away if we discuss sensitive topics for which he isn’t cleared for.”

  “I understand,” she replied with a nod of her head.

  “Does anyone else want to tag along?”

  The rest of the councilmembers looked at each other, eyes wide and questioning, each orb like a gateway into their fear-filled, little, private worlds. Finally, someone else spoke up.

  “I’ll come with you. I’ve been meaning to see it for myself for quite some time.” Ainya stepped forward, his hands deep in his pockets like a child nervously standing in public. I noted that it was probably because he knew the plan and didn’t want to see it carried out. I would have to remember his reluctance when the time came.

  “Very well, it looks like you have a small entourage, Pontiff,” I said, catching the slightest exchange between him and Akran. It was a glinting moment between each of their gazes and I recognized it for what it was. A weakness that I would use to my advantage.

  You never should have volunteered, Akran, I thought wickedly. You’re not going to want to see what the future holds for lover boy.

  “I look forward to it,” Halem said as he stepped closer to the cart, using the frame to support himself as he eased back into his seat with a groan. “Until then, maybe we can enjoy some dinner?”

  “Of course, Pontiff,” I said, satisfied that my time with him was not over yet. There was still so much I had to say to him regarding what we needed from the World Council to prosper. With any luck, he would cede to our requests before fate comes for him. “What do you have in mind?”

  Without missing a beat, he turned to look at Akran. “What do you suggest?”

  “You know me, Pontiff. I love Italian.”

  “So, do I,” I interjected as I plopped down into the driver’s seat, glancing back at my fellow councilmember knowingly. I saw exactly what they were trying to rekindle right before our very eyes. I was the only one in the group who knew their past, but I would be damned if I let it disrupt good order and discipline. “I know the perfect place, and it’s not too far from here.”

  Halem eyed me for a moment before saying, “Let’s go.”

  Oh, we’ll go all right, I thought as I put the cart in gear and eased off the brake.

  Pasquallie’s was the first Italian restaurant built in Clenist. It was located just north of the Southern Sector, not far from the World Council Building nearest the center of the city. It was a mere ten minutes from either location.

  As the entourage exited the cart for dinner, I noticed two councilmen whispering to one another. Hydric and Banion had scowls on their faces and I couldn’t resist the urge to ask them what was wrong.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked as the rest of the group stepped out of earshot.

  Hydric sighed and shrugged. “I thought we were here to speak with the Pontiff about the projects needed to aid Clenist. Instead, we’ve sat on this cart listening to you kiss his ass for three hours. I thought we had a plan?”

  His words struck a nerve with me and it was all I could do not to chop him in the throat for disrespecting me. “I have everything in order. I just didn’t think he would want to arrive and jump headfirst into a painful council meeting. Besides, you saw how quickly he jumped into the snare we had for him.”

  “Listening to our concerns and sending them upline to the main body of the World Council is his job as Pontiff,” Banion spat. “Let him do it before focusing solely on your own motives. He doesn’t need this fieldtrip experience to help us with our city. He needs facts and figures to send our requests to our Archean members with the purse strings.”

  “Banion is right. Let’s drop the smoke and mirrors and get down to business. We have him as a captive audience while we eat. You can direct the conversation to our needs. He’s just a man, we should talk to him as such instead of contributing to the pedestal mentality that so many others are holding him to.” Hydric crossed his arms over his chest as his face slacked into a pout.

  I understood where they were coming from, but I also understood what kind of man Halem was. He wasn’t the facts and figures guy, he was the see it and come to his own conclusions type of person.

  “I see. I’ll certainly take that into consideration—”

  “Don’t patronize us,” Banion replied. “Just do your job and steer us in the right direction to negotiate our needs. We can handle the rest.” He shoulder-checked me as he stepped past. When I glanced up at Hydric, I noticed a glint in his eye. “Look, Micah, we served with Halem in Archea. We know how he works. You were a junior councilman before volunteering to stand up the Council here. You only saw a limited version of the man you’re escorting around in a cart. If you want to win him over, you have to play to the psychology of what makes him tick. Kissing his ass and trying to impress him with mundane data isn’t going to do it. Prove you care about the future of Clenist by offering a solid plan to get us ahead of where we are now. You’ll win him over.”

  I stood there, silently seething as two people who worked for me plotted against my leadership just a few hours after I laid out my plan. “I will not let this stand,” I spat before turning to walk into the restaurant. If anything, my willingness to work for the Council was shot dead. All I wanted to do now was indulge in my own plans which had been set into motion for months. And I would do it, too.

  Whatever it took.

  To hell with everything else.

  Twenty-Seven

  Halem

  If I had
a dollar for every time I thought about picking up my comm and calling Akran to my room I would be able to fund the new power grid for Clenist. Instead, I dropped it back onto the mattress and exhaled. I did my best to play it coy, to pretend like being in her presence didn’t tinker with my emotions like a cat with a mouse, but I wasn’t fooling myself. Seeing her brought up all sorts of mixed feelings, most of them stemming from the acute loneliness I felt in Archea, a prisoner of my own position with no retirement plan except to fade from existence as my last breath left my body.

  I felt like the embodiment of hopelessness.

  I knew why the figures in my position were commanded to live life alone. It was a security protocol to prevent a leader from having someone they cared about used as leverage against them, or the World Council, or its offshoot, deep state organization we often referred to as the Syndicate. The truth was that even those who obeyed the law could not stop themselves from caring about others, there would always be that chink in the armor a true enemy could take advantage of. It was the restrictions of this life that led most of us to give into our human nature, our need for companionship.

  The game was rigged, and we all knew it, but some played it off better than most.

  Alas, I was not one of them.

  I picked up the comm once again and flipped it open, my thumb running along the screen with anticipation. Every fiber of my being demanded that I call her, and for the briefest of moments, I wanted to obey. I fought with each press on the screen. My will weakened to the point I could hardly contain myself, and just as the connection was made, I dropped the comm again, like a coward.

  Forced compliance of a rule I hated so ingrained in me that I knew what would happen if I acted out of step with the expectations placed on me. Now was not the time.

  Perhaps it would never come.

  That was the part that scared me.

  “Get yourself together, Halem,” I spat, turning to pace the room and relieve myself of the budding anxiety coursing through my body. I had a big night planned, but it wasn’t going to be the romantic rendezvous I had hoped for. Hell, I anticipated being locked to Akran’s lips within the first few hours. I hadn’t expected Micah to cart me around the city, chewing my ear as if his life depended on it. It was because of this that I regretted coming to this godforsaken city.

  I made my way to the window and took in the scenery so different from what I saw from my perch above Archea. Clenist did possess a beauty rivaling the first colony on Mars. They had decades of experience to draw upon when designing this new place. It was funny to me that despite advanced technology and the benefit of learning from past mistakes, Clenist had already fallen victim to mismanagement and hard luck. Perhaps “funny” wasn’t the appropriate term, but it certainly tickled that part of my mind that thought something was more than meets the eye.

  That, in and of itself, made the conspiracy theorist wheels in my head turn.

  I saw firsthand what happened when someone manipulated policies for their own bidding. Is that what happened here? If so, then what would exposing myself to the criminal underworld hope to accomplish?

  “This is just an ego trip, isn’t it?” I asked myself the question several times since Micah dropped me off to my room. I still didn’t have the balls to answer it, or the audacity to back out. “How bad could it be compared to your life more than a decade ago?”

  My reflection looked back at me in the window and the graying of my temples weren’t the only major changes I saw glaring back at me. There was a hardness in my eyes that wasn’t there before Marada was killed.

  I wondered if it was her death that put it there, or the years of loneliness which followed, that hollowed me out like a rotting log. It didn’t matter. I knew my life wasn’t going to be the same as soon as I took the position as Pontiff. I accepted that as willingly as I accepted the fact that I was going to be a murderer if I pulled the trigger on Etan when Pollux told me there was a hit on me.

  The darkest part of my heart denied that I did anything wrong. Perhaps that was my problem, denial.

  “You’re just being dramatic,” I scolded myself and stepped back, slumping onto the bed, the creaking of the mattress reminding me that I definitely was not in my own apartment. As I sat in silence, my comm chirped, startling me. I snatched it off the blanket and answered with a bark. “Pontiff Scrimpshire,” I said.

  “It’s time,” Micah said, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I replied, avoiding the urge to tell him I’d spent the better part of the last hour pacing impatiently. “I’ll be down to the lobby in a few minutes.”

  “Let me escort you down, sir. I can come up to your room.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  “I insist. Besides, I’ve already boarded the elevator.”

  How am I not surprised? His neediness was evidently a problem and not something I was eager to jump back into. Still, I had to do this, there was no backing out. Better to just grin and bear it, I thought with a sigh. “Fine, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Excellent,” he replied, closing the connection and leaving me in silence with the comm pressed to my ear awkwardly.

  “What have I gotten myself into? This man is going to drive me to jump off a building.” I grabbed my wallet and shoved it into my pocket along with my comm and waited by the window.

  As the sun slowly fell behind the horizon, its light prismed out in bolder hues than we saw in Archea. It was probably due to the newer acrylic material used, but it certainly stood out as another more remarkable thing of beauty the city had to boast about. The clarity of the dome gave a view of the world outside that I hadn’t expected to be so magnificent as the rust colored landscape beckoned me beyond the reach of humanity. My thoughts immediately drifted to Tetrim’s dream to tear down the domes and build the artificial atmosphere surrounding Mars.

  It was a dream that ultimately resulted in the death of Marada, but that legacy haunted me more regularly than the memory of my late wife. It further perpetuated my guilt, manifesting itself in anxiety-ridden speculation that every decision I made was the wrong one. I wished I had someone to confide in about it. But the only listening ears were now hidden in this city; yet another decision I was paying for.

  A knock drew me from the window and my self-reflection. I heard the faintest voice on the other side of the door as I made my way to it. As I slowly opened the door, I was met with a toothy grin only partially distracting me from Micah’s piercing gaze.

  “The rest of the council tagging along on this trip are downstairs, sir. We’re ready when you are.”

  I glanced back into the room, not knowing what I expected to find, but craving the briefest of delays of the inevitable. “All right, let’s do it,” I said as I closed the door and looked back at Micah’s expectant gaze. “Lead the way.”

  Somehow, his grin grew wider. “Yes, sir.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Pollux

  How did I get here?

  The question burned through my mind as I stood between two concrete walls, perched five stories above the main thoroughfare in the Southern Sector of Clenist. So many of my memories were a jumbled mess, yet I could see bits of them as if I was a spectator living outside of myself. Some of those visions gave way to ones I could not fathom, the haunting display of aggression unsettling enough that a squeezed my eyes shut trying to force another scene into existence.

  I had no memory of where I was moments before, just glimpses of dark rooms and anxiety-riddled fear coursing through my veins. I had never lost control like this before, even at the peak of my involvement within the Agency. Right now, my main concern was whether it would happen again.

  What if it was happening now?

  A part of me knew the answer. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing where I could see my target approaching, hidden in the shadows. Halem closed in on his inevitable future and I was the one to deal the final blow. I didn’t want any part in it, this wasn’t the life I wanted to live, but powerles
sness crippled me to fight against it.

  “This is the endgame.”

  Those four words came to my mind but were not my own thoughts. They were merely a projection of someone else’s design. The singsong refrain reverberated in my mind, reminding me that true evil always hid in the shadows like a coward.

  “I have planned this for quite some time. There is no stopping what will come.”

  A reminder that I could do nothing to stop it. A part of me didn’t want to stop it, but that voice sounded foreign in my mind. Was I breaking, forming another personality apart from the one programmed by the Agency all those years ago?

  No.

  This was something different.

  Something more sinister.

  “Get out of my head.” I said the words out loud. Defiance dripped from the tip of my tongue and fell deafly like ash disintegrating before my eyes. My resiliency was gone, unable to withstand the pressure of the fight from both sides of sanity.

  “There is no one to reason with, Pollux. You are here to do as you are commanded. You serve but one purpose.”

  “I am serving no one if I am not the one in control.” My words prompted the return of stabbing pain behind my right eye. The not-so-gentle reminder of whom was in control.

  It was not me.

  It was them.

  Him.

  “Keep your thoughts to yourself and do as you are ordered. If you continue to fight, I will fry every braincell and ensure you are a vegetable.”

  That’s not a bad idea, I thought before the searing pain returned, momentarily taking my breath away in the process. I collapsed into the catwalk, my hands digging into the metal, nonslip surface. I focused on the ground through the slits in the steel, the darkness of the eternal abyss beckoning me before the voice returned to scold me into compliance.

  “Perhaps I will take pity on you and allow you to die without the burden of remorse for what you are about to do,” the voice said.