The King of Plagues jl-3

by Jonathan Maberry

  “So … you didn’t do the attacks on the Towers?”

  “Oh, but we did,” said the Saudi with a smile. “That was a masterpiece of planning of which we are all very proud. But it was the Inner Circle who derailed our carefully drawn plans by shifting the focus away from Al-Qaeda and onto Saddam. All that nonsense about weapons of mass destruction. Saddam was a murderous fool, but he was no Hitler. He was not even a decent Mussolini. Iran is ten times greater a threat to the United States. Iraq … that was purely a grab for oil.”

  “And to place substantial U.S. military assets in the Middle East,” said War. “If we had not stepped in to fund the Shiites and some other interested parties, then the Americans would have flattened Iraq and that would be that.”

  Gault walked over to the Saudi. “Where do you fit into all of this, then? You are the face of the Al-Qaeda. They are hunted because of you.”

  The King of Lies smiled. “It was always our intention that the Al-Qaeda take the blame for the Towers. However, we initiated the project and invited them in. They were involved, have no doubts, and most of them are as true to their cause as they say. I, however, am not, nor have I ever been. We stoked the Al-Qaeda’s hatred of the—ahem—Great Satan. Overall, it was one of our greatest successes.”

  “And we used our people here in the States to amp up anti-Islamic hatred,” said the American. “Hate crimes are mucho profitable. They impact stocks, they shift populations, they influence elections—and there are profits to be taken at every step of that.”

  “So you destroyed the Towers to make a buck?” Toys asked.

  The King of Gold said, “Most negative world events influence the stock market, mainly because the vast majority of investors are timid sheep who piss themselves if the wind veers. Deliberate negative events, such as terrorist incidents, cause significant and sudden drops in the market. The key is knowing what is coming and, most importantly, when. That way you can buy when prices are plummeting. Do it through a hundred intermediaries and you don’t leave a trail. We learned that from 9/11. And if the government panics and closes the market, wait it out. It will always reopen and prices will always rise again. Once things stabilize, we begin to sell when prices get to about sixty percent of the pre-panic price. Again, you don’t appear to be a strict profiteer. You’re just one of the sheep meandering back to the fold after the Big Bad Wolf has been chased off.”

  “So,” said Gault, impressed, “instead of having your people poised to act should something happen, you have them ready to maximize the take based on true foreknowledge.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Bloody brilliant.”

  “Manipulting the United States and its global image has been the key,” said the King of Thieves. “America has been a crucial element in Middle East politics since the British withdrew in 1971. Despite all of the hate and criticism leveled against them, intelligent people on all sides of the issue know that they are a positive influence on the stability of the region. If their credibility were so badly damaged that they could no longer adequately play their role, then there would be a regional crisis that would cause oil prices to skyrocket. We saw some of that in 2006 and ’7 when Americans were paying over four dollars a gallon to keep their SUVs on the road. Go back in time and you can see other price spikes corresponding to incidents of damaged American credibility and regional instability. The 1973 oil embargo was the first, then the Iranian revolution of 1979 and the Iran-Iraq war the following year. Over and over we see proof of this.”

  “The current conflict has other useful effects,” continued the King of Famine. “Our actions have brought the United States into armed conflict with the Taliban in Afghanistan.”

  “I thought you were opposed to open war?” said Toys.

  War laughed. “Afghanistan isn’t an open war. It never will be. It’s a guerilla war. That’s fine, because that kind of thing can go on for years and years without any dramatic resolution.”

  “Which America can’t win?” suggested Gault.

  “No one can,” agreed War. “Not unless you are willing to exterminate the enemy, and America—for all of its faults—is not willing to take that step. Not even the Bonesmen can sell ethnic genocide to the U.S. people. We can bank on that. We have, in fact, banked on it.”

  “Bush is a Bonesman, isn’t he?” asked Toys.

  “Yes, but he’s not Inner Circle,” said the American. “Dubya was their public face, and may not have even known it. He’s a Texas jokester who couldn’t manage a Wal-Mart and the Inner Circle put him in the Oval Office for two terms while they moved behind the scenes.”

  “What about the current administration?” asked Gault.

  “The Inner Circle doesn’t have the same kind of control over this president, which is why they are trying to weaken him and discredit his accomplishments. Once he’s out, they’ll put another one of their mannequins in the White House.”

  “Don’t tell me you voted for the Democrat,” Toys said with a grin.

  “Actually, we did.” The American chuckled. “Though rest assured it had nothing to do with supporting him, his policies, or the do-gooder agenda he’s selling. No, we stand behind anyone who isn’t on the Inner Circle’s leash.”

  “We are trying to meet the Inner Circle on the same ground,” said the King of Famine. “They are kingmakers and they have a lot of experience in that regard. We are working toward that end. We want to put one of our puppets in the White House and, ultimately, in Number Ten Downing Street, the Palazzo del Quirinale, the Élysée Palace, and the Kremlin.”

  “How far along are you?” asked Gault.

  Famine shrugged. “We have a program in place now that is designed to increase racial and religious hatred between Islam and Israel, which should embarrass sitting governments and shake some power players out of their seats. Then it will be a horse race between us and the Inner Circle to fill those seats.”

  “Through religious conflict?” asked Toys, and he was careful to keep his voice neutral.

  “None of us have any particular anger toward any religion or ethnic group; however, we agree that hate crimes are good for business. Our business,” said Lies. “Our campaign is being driven through systematic disinformation on the Internet, and through bribes and donations to certain extremist groups who lack only funding and a kick in the backside in order to act.”

  “And by ‘act’ you mean—?”

  “Walking into mosques or temples wearing vests packed with C4. Or leaving bombs in religiously significant areas.”

  “Christ,” said Toys, and Gault cut him an annoyed look.

  “There are always people willing to kill in the name of their God,” said Famine. “Because of the open-forum nature of the Internet, laws about free speech, and news media hungry for controversial stories, small and disenfranchised groups have found a voice that can now be heard around the world. It’s lovely. With money, Internet postings, and other support, we give them a fist as well as a voice.”

  “And,” said Gault, “because they’re vocal factions instead of countries, hate crimes increase, tension increases, but the actual nations don’t go to war. And you profit.”

  The Kings beamed at him.

  “This is all so … elegant,” murmured Gault.

  “Elegant, maybe,” snorted the American. “But it’s riskier than it needs to be.”

  Gold turned to him. “Not so. Your mother, the Goddess, has done great work.”

  The American made a disgusted noise.

  “You disapprove of this campaign?” Gault asked him.

  The American looked around the room before he shrugged. “We may not have secrets here, but we don’t always agree on policy. I was the only dissenting voice on this. Mom still hasn’t forgiven me.”

  “What’s your objection?”

  “It puts my ass on the line. This whole campaign requires me to use resources that are part of what I do outside the Kings. If this falls apart, guess whose dick will be in the wringer?” />
  There was a brief and uncomfortable silence in the room.

  “My brother,” said the Frenchman quietly, “we’ve talked about this. There are so many layers of subterfuge between your businesses and the Goddess’s plan that they will never dig deep enough to expose you.”

  “Maybe,” snapped the American with bad grace, “but those Inner Circle pricks aren’t forgiving and they can bring a lot of guns to bear. They’ve already aimed the DMS at us. Those sons of whores took out seven cells that we’ve been grooming for hits here in the States.”

  “How?” demanded Toys. “How does the Inner Circle know what you’re planning?”

  There was a heavy silence in the room.

  Finally the King of Famine said, “We suspect that the Conscience of our former King of Plagues was leaking information.”

  Toys glanced at the empty seat. “And where is he now? Seems like you should be turning thumbscrews on the chatty bastard.”

  “We did,” said Gold, and when Toys and Gault looked at him they saw that he wasn’t joking. “We can get quite—oh, what’s the phrase?”

  “We went medieval on him,” supplied the King of Fear. “But we got a little overzealous. Well … I did, I guess. By the end he was confessing to everything from killing Marilyn Monroe to starting the Chicago Fire. My bad. I thought I could open him up.”

  “If I may,” said Rafael Santoro, placing his palm over his heart, “if there is a next time, please consider allowing me to do what is necessary, yes?”

  The American nodded. “Not a problem. I should have waited until you were back in the country rather than having a go at it. Even so, the leak seems to have stopped, though.”

  The Russian said, “Our goal of instability works even when the Bonesmen are pulling the strings in Washington and, through proxy, the Middle East. We have damaged and will continue to damage governmental credibility, and when America stumbles money spills all over the place.”

  “And you were there to lap it up?” said Toys with a smile.

  “We were there with big fucking buckets!” declared Famine. “The economic crash of 2008? That was ours. It was our riposte to the invasion of Iraq, and we skewered the Bonesmen very nicely.”

  Gold laughed. “People talk about all the billions that were lost, but money is never ‘lost.’ It is like energy—it continues to exist in one form or another. Money drained out of banks and automobile manufacturers and it flowed to us through a thousand channels within the global market.”

  Gault smiled. “This is all brilliant, but … is there a place for me in Eris’s program?”

  “Please,” said the King of Thieves quickly, holding up a hand. “In the Chamber of the Kings, she is to be referred to as the Goddess.”

  Gault bowed. “‘Goddess’ it is, and I can’t think of a better description for her.”

  “The first wave of the program is already under way,” conceded the King of Famine. “But your late predecessor, the esteemed and much-missed Dr. Kirov, had been working on several key steps of the second phase. They are very much ‘your’ kind of thing, Brother Plagues.”

  “Tell me.”

  He told Gault the plan. The information was staggering in its beauty.

  “Kirov had about half of it worked out,” said the King of Gold. “And he was preparing for a trip to Egypt when he died. A stroke, by god! A tragic loss and a hard blow, because we don’t know how he was going to accomplish several key steps.”

  “Yeah,” observed the American, “it left us with a big fat frigging hole in Mom’s evil master plan. Kirov was the point man for this whole operation. Now we have to decide if we can continue with what Kirov had planned, or if we need to cut our losses.”

  Gault pursed his lips. “I’d like to look at Kirov’s research and see his lab. And, of course, I’ll need to know everything about what you are planning. What you want to do, who you want to kill, and what you hope to accomplish.”

  “That will take some time … .”

  Gault smiled a great and icy smile. “Then let’s get to it.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Fair Isle Research Endeavor

  The Shetland Isles

  December 18, 2:41 P.M. GMT

  Mr. Church’s phone rang and he stayed inside the chopper to take the call. The caller ID said “unknown.” The voice said, “Area 51 was the work of the Seven Kings.”

  “I was wondering when you would be calling,” said Church as mildly as if the call were from an old friend. “It’s been a while.”

  He attached a cable to his phone and plugged it into his laptop, initiating a seven-continent multiphasic search that used MindReader to hack satellites and phone company databases.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “I always enjoy our chats. Do you have something for me?”

  “I want to see the Kings destroyed.”

  The tracking signal began bouncing around from country to country.

  “The DMS could accomplish that,” Church said, “if you gave us something more concrete to go on.”

  There was silence on the line. The tracker had so far traced the call through eighteen national exchanges and fourteen service providers.

  “Can you at least tell me something about the Seven Kings? What do they want to accomplish?”

  There was a sound that might have been a laugh. “They want to break the bones of their enemies and suck out the marrow. That’s what they want to do.”

  “That isn’t particularly helpful.”

  “Yes,” said the caller, “it is.”

  And he disconnected.

  The signal vanished without any clue to its origin.

  Chapter Thirty

  The State Correctional Institution at Graterford

  Graterford, Pennsylvania

  December 18, 2:42 P.M. EST

  Nicodemus was led into the office. Rudy sat behind Stankeviius’s desk. He had borrowed a technique from Mr. Church and had purchased a pair of nonprescription glasses with tinted lenses. Except in direct light his eyes were virtually impossible to see.

  “My name is Dr. Sanchez,” said Rudy. “Please … sit down.”

  Nicodemus sat. His hands were cuffed to a waist chain and he laid them in his lap. He stared at Rudy with eyes that rarely blinked.

  “Please state your full name.”

  Nicodemus studied him for a long time before answering, “Nicodemus.”

  “Is that your first name or your last name?”

  “It is all that I am.”

  “Why are you reluctant to tell me your full name?”

  “Why do you need it? Only witches and sorcerers conjure with names. Is that what you are?”

  “Do you think that’s what I am?”

  Nicodemus smiled but did not answer.

  “Do you know why I wanted to see you, Nicodemus?”

  “I know.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  Almost a full minute passed before Nicodemus answered, “It is the nature of prophets to know things that other men do not.”

  “Are you a prophet?”

  “Sometimes voices speak through me.”

  “Are you aware of the event that occurred in London yesterday?”

  “I am aware that souls are in the smoke and that darkness stretched across the sky.”

  “What else do you know of that event?”

  Nicodemus leaned forward. “Are you a God-fearing man, Dr. Sanchez?”

  “I am a person of faith.”

  One corner of the prisoner’s mouth curled upward in a small sneer. “Then if you are a Bible-reading man, brother, you will be familiar with the Book of Exodus, chapters seven through twelve.”

  Rudy had been expecting this. “You’re referring to the Ten Plagues of Egypt?”

  “You are a Bible-reading man! Yes … God visited the Ten Plagues on Egypt in order to free the Israelites who had been kept as slaves.” He leaned forward very quickly and Rudy noted that the guards gasped and stepped back first r
ather than lunge forward to restrain the man.

  They are just as afraid of this man as Warden Wilson and Dr. Stankevi ius, Rudy mused. What kind of hold does Nicodemus have over everyone?

  Nicodemus’s eyes burned with excitement. “Had it been God’s will simply to release His people, He could have done so with a legion of angels. But that teaches nothing. Do you know why God sent so many plagues, and why he hardened Pharaoh’s heart each time so that the Israelites were not freed?”

  “Please tell me.” He noted that Nicodemus used the word “God” rather than “Goddess.”

  “I asked you, Doctor.”

  “Very well. It seems to be a matter of how one interprets the meaning of the words, bearing in mind that they are translated. I do not believe that the passage is saying that God forced Pharaoh to commit evil, but that God allowed it.”

  “Why would He allow such a dreadful thing?”

  “It is the nature of free will. If we humans have free will, and faith in the face of doubt suggests that we do, then it comes from God. Otherwise no one would be responsible for anything that they do, and that includes acts of charity and kindness as well as acts of evil.”

  “Then, Doctor, by your own statement you do not believe in the guidance of the Divine in our actions.”

  “That isn’t what I said, and I believe you know that. Guidance is not the same thing as coercion.”

  He watched Nicodemus’s eyes when he said the word “coercion.” Was there a flicker? Did they tighten just a fraction?

  “What about the Devil, Dr. Sanchez? Do you believe that the Devil and his demons can dominate the mind and soul of a person and make them do terrible things?”

  “No,” said Rudy. “I do not believe that.”

  “How can you believe in one part of the Bible and not all of it?”