The Hidden Society

by R. Chauncey

  He was in the living room lying on a lounge chair, a few yards from the dining room he’d eaten in, reading from an electric tablet one of his twenty thousand first editions. It was Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. He didn’t particularly like Dickens. He was too wordy an author. But a first edition of any of his works was a priceless possession. And he had ninety percent of all Dickens works, and they were all first editions. As soon as he’d solved his immediate problem, he was going to get the other ten percent of Dickens’ first editions. And he didn’t care who he’d have to have killed to get them. A man with his power couldn’t be denied his pleasures regardless of what they cost others.

  He’d had all of his first editions scanned and put on his computer’s hard drive by one of the Hidden Society’s computer experts over ten years ago. That way he could access them any time he wanted to from anywhere in the world. But he could also access any book or publication in the world. Since there wasn’t a publishing house, private, public, or government controlled whose computers he couldn’t get into thanks to Paul Duffy’s all-purpose chip.

  One of the nice things about being in his position was he had almost absolute power, and no one knew it but him now that the Council of Twenty and John and Sally were dead and rotting in the corridor and conference room hundreds of feet below ground.

  Once this mess was over he’d let the other members and soldiers know what he had done, and he’d be able to enjoy his power. No one in the Society could oppose him. They certainly couldn’t take him to court or complaint to the police without exposing themselves.

  Derrick lowered the tablet he was reading from and thought, there are at least thirty powerful industrialists I’ll have eliminated once I get home. They’ve interfered too often in the Society’s expansion plans by doing things that didn’t benefit the Society. I must also triple the salaries and benefits of the soldiers to insure their loyalty. Maybe reduce the number of members to only fifty. Fifty are easier to control than seventy-seven. He raised the tablet and continued reading.

  An hour has passed before Derrick lowered his tablet and placed it on the table to his left. He was bored with reading and decided to go outside and look around. He put on a pair of heavy brown cotton khaki pants, tailor made of course, a matching shirt, a pair of insulated desert boots with matching socks, and a heavy brown leather hip length coat which had a hood. He put on a matching leather hat and gloves, opened the small dresser in his bedroom, and took out two white handkerchiefs and put them in one of the pockets of the coat, and then picked up a pair of binoculars, and went outside.

  For all his power and arrogance it would have never dawned upon Derrick that someone would be watching him.

  From the moment he opened the door to his camper Dorothy’s com-cell vibrated telling her Derrick was outside. She turned off the TV she had been watching and put on her coat and left her camper. She didn’t worry about Charlie and Lester bothering her. They were sports fanatics and were deeply involved in watching some European sporting event.

  Sports had never interested her. She had been too involved with her duties over the last four years to be interested in anything other than what she had to do.

  She quickly climbed to the top of the hill that separated her camper from Derrick’s, making sure to keep low so the heat detector Karl and Willow had didn’t pick up her body heat, and went to the spot she had selected two days ago, where she could see and hear everything within fifty feet without being seen or heard, and watched Derrick. She got comfortable and raised her special binoculars to her eyes.

  The expression on Derrick’s upturned face as he looked at the hill in front of him told her he didn’t like where he was, or what he was going do. She watched him moved to the hill and start climbing it.

  His slow, clumsy climb up the boulder dominated hill, and his stopping six times to dust off his gloved hands clearly indicated he was a man who hated anything to do with the outdoors.

  Good, Dorothy thought. He won’t suspect anything.

  Once he got to the top of the hill he chose a spot only a fool would chose, since anyone within two hundred yards and good vision could see him, and sat down on a large, round rock after using one of his handkerchief to knock the dirt of it.

  *

  Willow had been on duty for two hours, and was so bored with scanning the rocky hills with his binoculars he almost missed the man. He wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t used a white handkerchief to dusted off the rock he was sitting on before he sat down.

  What type of asshole dusts off a rock with a white handkerchief before he sits down in this back country? He thought as he watched the man. I wouldn’t be surprised if this asshole called for room service to bring him a warm drink.

  He adjusted his binoculars to full power and carefully looked at the man.

  The mixed expression of arrogance and dislike on the man’s face told Willow he was probably rich, and use to someone waiting on him. The seamless leather gloves he wore that matched his coat said he was also use to the best and nothing else.

  “Karl,” Willow said.

  “Yeah,” Karl asked. He had been trying to get some sleep for two hours, but couldn’t manage more than keeping his eyes closed and relaxing his body. He was thinking about Lawrence Ames. He knew that killing him was a serious violation of the Hidden Society’s main rule. No soldier could kill a member, nor could a member kill another member, without permission from the leaders and the Council of Twenty. It was a rule that had existed as long as the Society had existed, and was written to protect members from soldiers who hated them, or members who hated each other. Like all associations, the Hidden Society had members and soldiers in it who disliked each other. The rule had been written especially for the soldiers since they were trained at killing, and all experienced in killing.

  Soldiers protected members and obeyed them even at the cost of their own lives. They were never supposed to harm them or disobey them.

  But Karl had considered Lawrence to a worthless shit head ever since he first met him over fifteen years ago. Killing him meant less to Karl than the killing of the insect pests on his property. At least the pests, even though they were pests, served a biological need in nature. Lawrence Ames was, as far as Karl was concerned, a perfect example of the value of jacking off.

  It wasn’t the killing of Lawrence that disturbed Karl. It was Willow had witnessed it. And never in the twenty some odd years he’d been killing for the Society, he didn’t bother remembering the exact number of years - what was the purpose, had there been a witness to any of his killings. But Lawrence had pissed him off, and he’d acted out of impulse without considering the consequences or that Willow had witnessed it. That disturbed Karl more than the killing of Lawrence Ames. Never in his life had he ever allowed his emotions to take control of him. He promised himself he’d never let that happen again.

  I’ll take care of the Ames killing problem when the time comes, he thought.

  “There’s a guy on a hill with some real fancy duds on. “

  Karl opened his eyes and looked at Willow. “Are you sure?” he asked him positive in couldn’t be anyone associated with Marlene Done and her accomplice. Dodge and Betty would have let him know if Marlene and her accomplice were within a hundred miles of this place. They would have been easy to spot in this isolated country.

  “Sure, I’m sure,” Willow said. “I’m looking right at the guy.”

  Karl got up, picking up his binoculars as he did, and walked over to Karl. Making sure he couched low as not to silhouette himself against the light of the western sun. He raised his binoculars to his eyes and forced himself not to show a surprised expression on his face when he saw Derrick.

  So, he thought as he carefully looked over Derrick. That piece of shit
is going to kill me sooner than I expected now that I know where the Society keeps its information. Well, fuck you, too, Leader.

  “You ever seen this guy before?” he asked Willow.

  “Naw, never seen him in my life. I would have remembered a guy who dusts off a rock in the wilderness before he sits down,” Willow answered. “What do we do about him?”

  “Nothing. Leave him to me.” He went back to his sleeping bag and lay down. Positive now that he knew Derrick’s plan he could get some desperately needed sleep.

  *

  Dorothy shook her head in disbelief and went back down the hill to her camper. Knowing that in spite of all his power Derrick was a foolish man because of his arrogance.

  The result, she thought. Of spending all of his time in that Big Sur mansion of his with servants to satisfy his every need and little or no contract with the real world. The chance of things going as planned look much brighter.

  ***

  Chapter 35

  January 10, 12:45 a.m.

  They had crossed the Utah-Nevada border ten minutes ago on US 80.

  “Route 29 dead ahead,” Dodge announced as he saw the overhead sign for the off ramp to 29.

  Snow was still falling in large flakes, but at least the wind had died down to less than five miles per hour. Road conditions were still dangerous for even forty-five miles an hour, and Dodge was doing sixty-five and fighting to keep the Land Rover from sliding off the road and into a ditch. Twice he’d slide into snowbanks and taken his foot off the accelerator and let the speed of the Land Rover back drop to almost five miles an hour so he could correct the slide and maneuver the Land Rover back on the road.

  Both times Betty had held her breath and carefully watched Dodge correct the slide and increase his speed back to sixty-five miles an hour.

  “Not too far from the ambush spot I picked,” Betty said as she looked at the spot she’d chosen on the computer screen.

  “How far behind us do you think they are?”

  “Two hours probably more,” she said, switching to a copy of a satellite view of Route 29 on the Land Rover’s computer.

  “You sure?” he asked her.

  “You know those five vehicles I told you about on 29?”

  “Yeah, they’re still there?”

  “Only one. And its speed is about thirty miles an hour.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “This satellite view I’ve got of it is only an hour and a half old, and it shows only one vehicle on Route 29. The speed of this vehicle was over forty when the satellite caught it.”

  “Good,” he said as he dropped his speed to fifty-five.

  “Why we slowing down?”

  “We’re ahead of them, Betty,” he said. “No need to rush. When we get to this spot you’ve picked out we check it out. Make sure it suits our needs.”

  “We should call Karl,” she suggested.

  “No!” he shot back at her.

  “Why not?”

  “You want to tell him we set up an ambush for Done and her friend, and they got through it?”

  Betty nodded her understanding and approval and said, “Better to tell him after we’ve succeeded.”

  *

  January 10, 2:30 a.m.

  Dodge had dropped his speed to thirty miles an hour and was looking about the country they were passing through. The road conditions weren’t as bad as he thought they’d be, but there were still snow patches on the road that looked slippery. There were no houses just trees and a lot of snow covered brush, and it was dark. If there hadn’t been snow on the ground they wouldn’t have been able to see more than five feet in front of them without headlights. The storm had lessened a bit, but it was still snowing and cold with a dark overcast.

  “We close?” he asked Betty.

  “A few more miles,” she said. “Five at the most.”

  Dodge turned off his headlights. He realized he couldn’t use the breaks. The red lights would cast a sharp color against the black and white background. The snow on the ground would reflect enough light for them to see, and he’d have to let the Land Rover’s weight bring it to a stop. He reduced speed again.

  They drove quietly at twenty miles an hour for half an hour before Betty spoke.

  “See how 29 cuts through that hill ahead.”

  A hundred and fifty yards ahead of them Route 29 pass between two a divided snow covered hills. The trees and brush on both sides of the hill were covered with snow making them look like over size snowmen and short, wide igloos, and snow mounds - the result of snow plows and the wind, filled the ditches on both sides of the road to a height of over twenty feet. Snow overhangs on both hills extended from the sides of the hills to the edge of the road.

  “Yeah, I see it,” Dodge said, taking his foot off the accelerator so the Land Rover’s weight could slow it down.

  “Good place for an ambush,” she said with a smile. “You on one side of the road and me on the other side up high lying on those snow mounds firing down. Lying on top of those snow mounds we’d have a perfect field of fire. Put a few dozen electric bullets into the Highlander of theirs and the engine quits and them, too.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. The spot looked good but not good enough to him.

  “What’s wrong with it?” she demanded.

  “See those overhangs of snow over both those mounds. There must be a couple thousand pounds on each side.”

  “So?”

  “What if the noise we make causes those overhangs to break loose and fall? You wanna get hit by a couple thousand pounds of snow?”

  She understood him. They would be crushed to death as well as buried. “Well, the fucking snow doesn’t show on the map. I chose this gap because of the trees and we’d be

  up high shooting down. Always the best position for an ambush.”

  “Let’s look beyond it,” he suggested.

  Betty shrugged. It didn’t matter to her if they found a better spot. Killing was killing to her. One place was just as good as another as long as she got the job done, and got paid.

  As they passed through the gap Dodge said, “I wonder why they don’t close this road during the winter. Somebody could get killed in an avalanche “

  “That’s probably because the people who live close to this place are smart enough not to use this road after a heavy snowfall. There’re probably safer side roads and there’s always US 80. That’s probably plowed after every snowfall.”

  Dodge looked at her.

  “It’s still snowing!” she snapped back at him. “That’s why there’s no one on this road.”

  “So?” he asked.

  “We pick a better spot.”

  As they passed through the gap the country opened up for a few hundred yards then two small hills of boulders appeared on both sides of Route 29 just as it began a gentle turn to the left.

  “There!” Betty said, pointing at the two small hills of boulders. “Over there just where the road makes that turn to the left.”

  “Great spot,” he said, noticing the hill on the left was higher than the one on the

  right and was farther from the road. “Hope it keeps snowing.”

  “Why that can stand against us?” she said.

  “It will also cover any tracks we leave,” he said. “Marlene and her friend may not be complete fools, you know.”

  “We’ve got to pull off the road,” Betty told him.

  Dodge nodded and said nothing. He was looking for a spot to pull off the road.

  “Let’s do that af
ter the turn then park the Rover somewhere it won’t be seen then you and I can walk back to those hills and take up positions and wait.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “What do you want? Left or right.”

  “Right,” she said. “I like being close to my targets.”

  “Alright.” He had a slight smile on his face she couldn’t see in the dark.

  They drove around the turn slowly looking for a spot to park the Land Rover.

  “Over there. On the left,” she said, pointing to the spot. “Behind those low trees.

  That’ll hide the Rover.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said as he gently pressed down on the brake, slowing down and moving to the left side of the road. “See anything that looks like houses?”

  “No, not one house just wild, open country for miles.”

  When the Land Rover came to a gradual stop, Dodge opened the driver’s door.

  “What you doing?” she asked.

  “There’s probably a rain ditch next to the road. Don’t want to end up in one,” he said jumping out of the Land Rover into the snow and the cold. The cold air knocked some of the exhaustion out of his body and made him more alert. “You drive. Shift to power drive while I find a safe way over any ditches. I’ll ground guide for you.”

  “Okay,” she said, moving behind the wheel while he closed the door.

  I should have put on that winter gear, he thought as he walked along the edge of the road. The cold cut through the jacket and pants he was wearing and attacked his body. He had been cold before, and didn’t like it. But at least the cold destroyed his desire lay down and go to sleep. He felt more awake than he had for hours.

  Western winters are always bad even in a mild year, and this was a typical western winter, with a lot of snow and with single digit temperatures during the day and below zero temperatures after sunset.

  He walked for almost fifty yards before he found a snow covered connection to 29. He stopped and looked around. Side road, he thought as he looked around. He didn’t see any fences or markings to indicate private property. He walked on till he found a shallow dip off the ride road. The Rover should be able to make this, he thought. He turned around and waved Betty forward motioning for her to follow his tracks.