The Fall of East

by Nana Malone

  We all stared at the map in front of us. When we were done with Jameson, the only one left to deal with would be Middleton. And we'd have finally gotten justice for our friend. Just the sheer enormity of that idea, that we'd very nearly pulled this off, made me smile. My only concern was if there would be repercussions. But now was not the time to think about that. In one more day, we were dealing with Garreth Jameson and his father, and there would be a new dawn of the Elite. And hopefully, everyone would be safe and standing when we were done.

  Nyla

  Later that afternoon, Amelia was shifting on her feet, hovering. She never hovered. I glanced up at her. "Okay, what gives? What's the matter?"

  She sighed. "Okay, it's not that I don't want to give this news because I do, but I also feel shitty because I was actually going to use this geezer and try to get his sentence shortened."

  "What's the matter?"

  She sighed. "I talked to the crown prosecutor, Avery, about the human trafficking case. Thanks to Chantal Anderson’s statement and my old colleague from Scotland Yard, they discovered other underage girls willing to testify. And while Bram Van Linsted wasn't officially on the books for the human trafficking ring with his father and the other members of the Elite, they’ll testify that he does have a long track record of benefiting. Underage sex parties, that sort of thing."

  My stomach churned. "Jesus."

  "Yeah, Jesus."

  I felt compelled to tell her it wasn't her fault. "Amelia, you were following a lead. One that could have gotten you what you wanted."

  She shook her head, looking ill. "It was the wrong hunch. I feel sick for the girl Chantal was. I feel sick for the pain she suffers now. I feel sick that I would have been a willing participant in furthering her pain if I'd found a way to reduce his sentence or made things easier for him in any way. It just sucks that I was so blinded by my ambition. And I'm just… I don't know. It doesn't sit well."

  "Amelia, of course, it's not going to sit well. But we make judgment calls every day. Some of them are good ones, some not so good. I would have been more concerned if, after everything you knew, you still continued. That would have been the real shame. But you didn't know.”

  She shrugged. "Maybe, but I’m not sure that’ll help me sleep at night."

  "Do you know the number of times I have tenaciously gone after something only to end up hurting someone else? Countless times. Hell, you know better than I do. You often have to witness the aftermath of hurricane Nyla. We've all been there. At least, count your lucky stars that you stopped that train before it got too far, right?"

  She sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. I just… God, I hate it."

  "I know. Believe me, I hate it too. But it is what it is. Now she's going to get justice. Now she gets to live her life. And the fact is, you didn't give up on her. You didn't say, 'oh, well, not my problem,' then walk away. You continued to chase it down and you sent it off to the right people. You did the right thing, Amelia. Sometimes it's the best we can do. And we just vow to do better next time, trust different people, and depend on our mates to tell us when we've gone too far."

  She gave me a sheepish smile. "Yeah, thanks for that."

  "Any time."

  "You know, you're starting to look like yourself again. A little less pale."

  "I don't exactly feel like myself, but I know what it looks like when someone's beating themselves up. So…" I shrugged.

  She gave me a wan smile. "It's going to get better, Ny. I promise."

  "I know." And because I could feel myself dangerously close to tears, I cleared my throat and blinked rapidly. "Now, what do you say we get back to work?"

  Chapter Twenty

  East

  "So, we're doing this?"

  Ben threw me a glance then looked to Bridge and Drew. "Yeah, looks that way.”

  Over the years, we had survived a lot together. We could survive this too. Because, thanks to Nyla, we knew the truth. I was fully aware that we wouldn't be where we were without her.

  Ben rolled his shoulders as we were all getting dressed. Our black robes billowed around us. Our black robes were for normal ceremonies. The red robes were for special honors. White was for discipline.

  Ben winked at me. "Relax. No security worries in here. We’re locked in a vault with a man who might have committed murder. No big deal."

  "Right. We just don't need any fucking surprises. You know what I mean?"

  He nodded. "I know. But look," he glanced around at all three of us, “you lot, you're my family. And I'm happy with my family. I'd fuck up anybody else who has anything to say about it. We have a plan, and we stick to the plan, but if we have to, we will burn this place to the ground."

  We all nodded.

  He was right. To change this place, to make it what we'd all hoped it would be, we would have to dismantle it. Start from the ground up. And if it couldn't be changed, couldn't be reformed, we would burn it to the ground. But one way or another, the Elite would never be the same.

  One of the ushers came down the stairs. He was masked, and he waited until we all took our masks from our lockers and then fixed them to our faces. All of our masks were the same, covering three quarters of our faces, making us indistinguishable. Only Ben's mask was different. As Director Prime, it only covered half his face. The other half was the same pretty mug I’d been staring at for years.

  I clapped him on the shoulder. "Mate, are you sure?"

  He grinned back. "We got this."

  I released him and took my place in the line. Our normal formation went in the order of initiation. Drew, then Bridge, then Ben. Toby would have been between Ben and me. My heart pinched when I thought about him. We'd been working so hard for months to try and bring him justice. And now that it was so close, I just wanted it all over with.

  We headed up on the elevator then followed the path to the voting room.

  We'd always hated this place. It had been the Van Linsted mansion back when Marcus Van Linsted was the Director Prime. We hadn't known at the time that the mansion really belonged to whoever was Director Prime. Currently, that was Ben. Not that he wanted the stupid house. We still used it as the Elite’s headquarters though. Ben said there was no way that he was going to live here, which was already a break with tradition that the members didn't like. But they could kick rocks, because we were going to do things our own way. It was time to shake things up.

  Order was called by the Five. Since I knew who the Five were, I could identify them easily, even if they were wearing robes and masks. Rowan Downs, Adam Hilton, Blake Boynton, Jace McClaren, and then finally, Taron Davies. The Five stepped back, giving Ben space to speak. I held my breath.

  There was no telling how either Jameson would react. This was happening. But we were prepared for it. We had anticipated it. We were ready to move. And there was a part of me, of course, that worried about Nyla outside on watch, praying she didn’t do anything rash.

  Who are you kidding? Of course she’ll do something rash.

  Ben stood at the center, surrounded by the voting members. When he spoke, his voice was clear.

  "The majority of you chose me as your Director Prime. And in the last three months, I have proposed the changes that the Elite must go through to survive and evolve in accordance with the dynamics of present society. As you all know, we’ve been dealt a blow. A number of our members are no longer with us because they have committed unlawful acts for which they were inevitably brought to justice. Even our power couldn't keep them from that. Even our power couldn't protect them. Not that they deserved it. They made their choice to go against our tenets, and now they are paying the price. Those men are cowards. They are weak."

  There was a murmur. But they hadn’t heard the best part yet. I'd been waiting for this.

  Ben took off his mask then, and there was a hushed silence in the room. "These masks don't protect us. What I have to say, I can say without the necessity of covering my face. As Director Prime it is my job to make sure we withstand the
tests of time. It is my job to make sure we endure. Ensure that we prosper. We cannot do that if we continue as we have.”

  There was more murmuring. Some nodding along as if they’d been waiting for someone to right the ship for years. Others shifted on their feet uncomfortably.

  “We will start by making changes to our selection processes.”

  That started the first uproar. Which we anticipated.

  The Five attempted to take control, but it was Ben holding his hands up that got everyone settled.

  “Sons of the Elite will always be invited, but so will the best and brightest who are not our sons. And all will be tested to the breaking points. Some will not persevere. But from now on we will truly only accept the Elite. If you believe your sons worthy, then you will have no issue.”

  That quieted everyone down. After all, if they were truly Elite, their sons would be fine. Or so they thought.

  “Additionally, there are men in here who are seditious, who seek to break traditions and laws of our society to replace me in a masked bid for power. So I’ve removed my own mask. If you want power, come and take it. But before you do, let me explain a few things to you."

  Several members shifted on their feet. "Garreth Jameson…" He turned and pointed right at Garreth. How he'd known it was him, I had no idea. "This man stands before you looking every bit like he's one of us, but he's not.” Ben paused for effect. “He is a wanted art forger. Matter of fact, Interpol will be arresting him this evening once we leave.” Ben kept going as if he hadn’t dropped a bombshell. “Additionally, he is not the son of Walter Jameson." He pointed at who everyone knew to be Lord Jameson to the left of Garreth. "Lord Walter Jameson died in Italy thirty years ago. That man is an impostor. His real name is Henry Warlow."

  Warlow ripped off his mask. "This is p-p-preposterous. These are lies."

  Ben smirked menacingly and then stepped forward. He reached into his robe and pulled forth the one piece of evidence that was the most damning. Henry Warlow's mug shot. It had taken some work to unearth that, but Henry Warlow had been arrested in his youth. It wasn't so much that the photo looked like Lord Jameson now. It was that the photo looked exactly like Garreth Jameson. "This photo is of Henry Warlow from thirty years ago. Henry Warlow was posing as a student in Italy. He'd ingratiated himself upon the young Lord Walter Jameson and his friends, including Marcus Van Linsted. This man"—he pointed his finger at Warlow again, who was now sputtering and backing away, but our guard blocked his path—"traded places with him after Walter Jameson died under mysterious circumstances."

  Warlow sputtered some more, stumbling forward. "That's a lie. This is all a lie. That photo has been doctored."

  Ben nodded sagely. "I anticipated that accusation. You can see the signatures of Interpol representatives here and here.” He indicated the signatures. “These documents, in fact, point out that this photo is of a man called Henry Warlow. Not Lord Walter Jameson. Thirty-two years ago, on April thirtieth, Henry Warlow stowed away on a boat for a regatta with Walter Jameson and his mates, including Marcus Van Linsted. During the regatta, there was an accident, or so the newspapers say. During that accident, all the young men were in the water for several hours, waiting until someone rescued them. One gentleman was pulled out of the water, having been injured by a blow from the mast of the sailboat to the face, and he was severely battered. His face was so mangled that he required reconstructive surgery. But he was identified by the clothing he wore by none other than Marcus Van Linsted, who we all now know is not to be trusted."

  There was a hush around the room again.

  Ben continued, looking every bit the confident Viking as he strode around, throwing his swagger about.

  "That man, Henry Warlow, has infiltrated our organization for decades, manipulating us in markets, in favors, in order to increase his wealth, his power. But he's nothing more than a common thief. Henry Warlow was a known associate of the renowned art thief, Francois Theroux."

  Ben was enjoying this. I could tell. A small smile played across his lips. He was having a fucking ball. Well, if anyone deserved it, it was him. He'd been under a lot of stress. We all had. I just wanted this over so I could go back to Nyla and tell her that for once, we were safe.

  “I call for a blackball removal. After all, he is not who he says he is. And the Elite must remain intact, evolve. We’re not a den of murderers. We are the Elite, gentlemen, above all.”

  The hushed murmur resounded yet again as the members were obviously taken by surprise from Ben’s revelations. “We are the Elite. But we need to change. I know. No one likes change. Change is difficult. Change requires blood. But if we cannot grow and conform ourselves to the dynamics of society, we will lose our power. There are those here that intend to convince you that I want to do away with our traditions. And I do intend to change some of them, but not all. Some of them are worthwhile. They got us where we are today, after all. But if we do not evolve, others will come for us, and we will lose our strength. So we must change in order to grow. If you have no confidence in me to lead you through that, fair enough.”

  Behind my mask, I couldn't help but grin. Goddamn, he was enjoying the fuck out of this. Leave it to Ben to have a great time. Git.

  And then he stepped back, replaced his mask, and stood silently.

  I watched the so-called ‘Jamesons.’ Henry Warlow was already trapped. There was nowhere for him to run.

  Garreth, though, was scowling. And then he pulled a gun and made a run for it.

  East

  Why was it always some kind of dramatic exit?

  The guard had been focused on Lord Jameson, not Garreth, so he was able to slip around and pull a gun from his robes, brandishing it as he tried to shove his way through the crowd.

  Idiot.

  This was always the scenario. The attempt of criminals to escape when trapped, fools who thought they could get away with their crimes.

  In the flurry of activity, he shoved several members out of the way, sending one elderly gentleman to the ground.

  Ben growled. "Fuck. We’ve got a runner."

  I grabbed my com unit so that Nyla, Telly, Emma, and Amelia outside would know that he was coming. They weren't on the grounds because obviously, they weren't supposed to be there. But they were just outside the perimeter at different stations. "Garreth Jameson is coming your way. I'm not sure which exit though."

  Nyla's voice was calm. "Copy that."

  My mates were already on my heels as I ran after him. The Five were trying to call the meeting back to order, but Jameson turned back and fired around inside the chamber, so that was the end of that meeting.

  It was total chaos. Luckily, I knew the place like the back of my hand. And also, I had wired it with a brand-new security system. Reaching inside my robe, I pulled out my phone. With a few quick taps, I accessed it and searched for Garreth’s location. I saw him moving toward the inner courtyard, and I directed Drew and Ben to go one way while Bridge and I went the other. Right in the direction of Emma and Telly.

  I could hear Bridge's feet slapping on the marble and stone outside along with mine.

  Bridge kept pace with me easily. Jameson was quick and sporty, but he was no match for our agility.

  In the coms, Ben was panting. "Do you have him?"

  "I see him, but he’s moving quickly. Emma, Tells, he's coming your way."

  Telly laughed briefly. "Yes! I might get to fire a gun."

  Over the coms, Nyla's voice was a little bit antsy. "Nope. No gun firing for you, Telly."

  I could hear Emma bickering. "I’ve got her."

  Bridge's voice next to me was terse and angry. "Emma, stay in the fucking van."

  I glanced at the security feed on my phone again, and Garreth was at the hedges, getting ready to jump and escape. We were going to lose him. I looked for the nearest gate that led outside the security perimeter. There was one straight to the right of the hedges he was headed for. I pointed Bridge in that direction, and we booked it. We t
urned one last corner to find Jameson about to go over the hedge.

  Emma was standing below him, fully clad in black, holding a baton. "Where do you think you're going? A fancy-dress party and you didn't even invite me? I feel sad."

  Jameson turned around and faced her. "Bitch."

  "No, no, we've never met. I feel like you can't make a proper assessment. I mean, you’re probably accurate, but honestly, how would you know that?"

  He lunged at her then, but she managed to deliver him an elbow to the temple, and he groaned and staggered. Bridge hesitated for a moment because clearly, Emma was no shrinking violet. She knew how to handle this idiot.

  "Let's not do this. I might break a nail, and I'd be irritated by that."

  He lunged for her again, and Bridge sprinted toward him.

  I was right at his tail.

  Telly jumped out of the van, pepper spray at the ready. “Get out of the way so I can spray him."

  Emma didn't even spare her a glance. I could hear her trail of laughter at Telly’s attempt to join in the fracas.

  Emma was good. Really good. Clearly, she'd been training for something like this, because there was no way that Toby's little sister miraculously knew how to fight.

  Still, Bridge tried to jump in, but I held him back. "We need a better opening. He has a gun."

  Bridge scowled at me then. "It's fucking Emma."

  Why was it so hard to reason with love-whipped men who refused to admit it? I tapped into the coms. "We have a situation at the van."

  Nyla answered back. "On my way."

  In cases like this, we called for backup because we had no guns. And to just jump and join in the chaos was stupid. Somehow, in the heat of the moment, Garreth managed to grab an arm around Emma, and Bridge launched for him.

  Garreth shook his head. "No, no. You come for me, and I’ll shoot her."

  Bridge scowled at him. "If you fucking put your hands on her, I will kill you."