The Overseer

by Conlan Brown

  Hannah reached into her pockets, emptying anything that fit that description, turning them out as instructed. A security man with a metal detector wand approached, waving the device over her. Two others were looking through her bag.

  “Are you certain of the deadline?” Devin asked, talking into his cell phone as he approached from behind. He made acknowledging sounds both to the phone and to the guards as he passed through their security measures. He finished on the phone and handed it to a guard, them emptied his pockets.

  Devin lifted his arms over his head. “I have an FN FiveseveN pistol at the small of my back,” he announced, “and two more firearms in the bag.”

  A security guard reached behind Devin’s back and removed the gun, taking the magazine out and ejecting the final round from the chamber. “Do you have any more weapons, Mr. Bathurst?”

  “No.”

  They didn’t seem to believe him. They continued to pat him down, running the wand over every inch of his body twice. When they were satisfied, they moved him over to where Hannah stood. They were instructed to wait and were left standing in the harsh sun for several more minutes.

  Hannah mopped sweat from her forehead, wondering how long she’d been standing. She was about to ask when a women in her thirties, a very beautiful Latina, came down the steps of the second jet and approached. The woman wore a dark suit but no tie. On her lapel was a yellow pin; the sign of the Firstborn—the triquetra over an upside down crown.

  “My name is Nina, head of Mr. Goldstein’s personal security,” she said with a kind of authority. “Do you understand what is about to happen?”

  Hannah shook her head, confused. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “You’re about to speak to Mr. Goldstein. This isn’t a common occurrence, so you need to understand the basic guidelines.”

  “Understood,” Devin agreed.

  Nina continued. “While you are with Mr. Goldstein, there will be no quick movements. I will be in the plane with you, and I will maintain control of the situation. If Mr. Goldstein considers you to be a threat at any time for any reason, the meeting will be over. If I consider you to be a threat at any time, the meeting will be over. All of my colleagues and I are armed. Do you understand?”

  Hannah’s mind swam. What kind of people was she dealing with? What kind of meeting was this? Had everyone and everything suddenly gone completely crazy?

  “Understood,” Devin said without hesitation.

  Nina looked them over. “Good,” she said. “And one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” Hannah asked.

  “Mr. Goldstein is the patriarch of the Ora. Meeting with him is an honor. I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect. Do you understand?”

  “Understood,” Hannah said with a nod.

  Nina turned to Devin. “Mr. Bathurst?”

  “We’ll see,” he said with a snarky smile. “Lead the way, Nina.”

  Hannah followed the woman up the steps to the plane, climbing into the cabin.

  The interior of the plane was dark, the shades pulled shut. A man with a beard and a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt sat at the back of the jet. His seat was a cushioned bench facing the aisle. “Devin,” the man said happily, standing, motioning them to sit across the aisle.

  “Mr. Goldstein,” Devin said, motioning for Hannah to sit first.

  “And you must be Hannah Rice,” he said, looking at her.

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “I knew your grandfather Henry. He was a good man. I’m very sorry about what happened to him in San Antonio. I was in the city the night that happened.”

  “So was I,” Hannah said, not making eye contact.

  “You were in San Antonio?” he asked, then continued. “I’m sorry we didn’t have the chance to be properly introduced. But after the meeting, things went horribly wrong, I’m afraid.”

  Hannah nodded in agreement.

  “Do you two want something to drink? Soda, mineral water, anything?”

  Devin spoke first. “No, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” He turned to Nina. “Could you get me a bottle of water?” She nodded. “And bring one for each of my guests as well.” Nina nodded and turned away, walking to the other end of the plane.

  “Thank you,” Hannah said. “I didn’t expect—”

  “Hospitality?” Clay Goldstein asked with a grin. “You’ve just been dealing with my security. They take themselves a bit too seriously, but there’s no reason we can’t have a good chat.”

  “Too seriously?” Devin asked.

  Clay Goldstein shrugged. “A bit.”

  “Do you still believe that the Domani killed your sons?”

  Clay paused midsmile, looking awkward. “Well…”

  “Your water,” Nina said, setting a small glass bottle on a table next to Clay’s seat.

  “Thank you,” he acknowledged.

  Nina handed Devin and Hannah their bottles, sweating chilly condensation in the Nevada heat. Clay cracked his open and took a swig.

  “Why are you helping us?” Devin asked, leaning back and crossing his legs.

  Clay set down his bottle and was quiet for a moment. “I’m sick,” he said without prelude, watching their faces to see their reactions. “I have Parkinson’s disease.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Hannah said, genuine in her empathy. “Are you OK?”

  Clay cleared his throat. “Parkinson’s is fatal. If the disease doesn’t get you, a heart attack will. Which means my days are numbered.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your diagnosis,” Devin said unsympathetically, “but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

  Clay looked them over. Nodded. Leaned forward and clasped his fingers, elbows resting on his knees. “Vince Sobel is my subordinate in the Ora—or at least he’s supposed to be. The position of Overseer should have come to me, but Vince doesn’t think I’m well enough.”

  Devin spoke up. “So you’re helping us to spite him?”

  “No,” Clay said with a dark laugh, “I’m helping you because Vince isn’t going to stay Overseer for long. He’s going to have to pass it on to me at some point. I just have more experience and more vision.”

  “You’re going to undermine Vince and have him replaced,” Devin continued, “the same way he did with John Temple?”

  “Meh.” Clay balked. “You make it sound so dramatic. So cloak-and-dagger. I’m the one with the background in the film industry.”

  “Then what is it?” Devin asked.

  Clay’s face got suddenly serious. “There are people already working on getting me into the position of Overseer. It’s just a matter of time. But,” he continued slowly and carefully, “I want you to know whose side I’m on when I get there.”

  Hannah thought of the various possibilities. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I want people like you and Devin—people with initiative— to know that you can trust me.”

  “To owe you favors,” Devin retorted.

  “I want you to trust me,” Clay said without any trace of weakness. “And I want to be able to trust you. If I’m going to lead the Firstborn, that leadership needs to be built on mutual trust; don’t you think?”

  Hannah thought for a moment. Perhaps this man was the right man for the job. “That sounds reasonable.”

  Devin didn’t seem as convinced. “And what’s going to make you any different from Vince Sobel or Blake Jackson, or even John Temple on his bad days?”

  “Because,” Clay continued, “I have a vision.”

  “Meaning?”

  Clay seemed to relax, his body moving effortlessly into what he said next. “Why do you think the Firstborn exist?”

  “To serve God on Earth,” Hannah said without hesitation.

  “But why do we have these gifts? Gifts that no one else has. Why would God do that?”

  Hannah paused. “I hadn’t really thought too much about that.”

  Clay smiled. “I have. And why else woul
d God put us here: people with the ability to see everything and fix everything? Because that’s exactly what we’re meant to do.”

  “To fix everything?” Hannah asked.

  “To fix the world,” he said with an almost magical twinkle in his eye. “Just think about what a united Firstborn could do. With John Temple in charge, we haven’t been nearly as effective as we should have been. In less than a year he’s plunged the Firstborn into very serious financial problems.”

  “The IRS?” Hannah clarified.

  “Yes!” Clay declared. “The people who were able to send Al Capone to Alcatraz for life when nobody else could touch him. The people who put away Mickey Cohen, the mob boss of Hollywood, in the fifties. The big, mean hammer of the federal government that hangs over everybody. And because of John it’s coming down—and it could come down hard.” Clay took a breath, looking at them with a kind of intimate sincerity. “It’s time for a change.”

  Hannah looked at Devin. He said nothing and made no expression, simply listening. “Continue,” she insisted.

  “God put us here to change the world. To fix the problems around us. Think about the Ora—the ability to see and feel things in the moment. We could negotiate a lasting peace. We could solve the world financial crisis, facilitate discussion, end nuclear proliferation, end exploitation of women and children worldwide, bring all American troops home, cure the diseases of the world. Just think about everything we could do if we would stand together. If someone would just lead us together.”

  Hannah watched Clay Goldstein’s face. He was serious as a heart attack. “You really think the Firstborn could do all of this?” she asked.

  “I do,” Clay said with a nod, “and we will.”

  “How?” Devin asked bluntly.

  “We get the SEC squared away and the IRS off the Firstborn’s back,” he said with a rehearsed polish. “Pursue profitable enterprises that really bring back the vitality. Play it smart though. Not just going with knee-jerk reactions like John Temple did. I’ve spent the last few years buying up media companies. We’ve become a leader in the field of mass media and communications. We do that to make the money and increase our influence. Then we start in on politics—and we shape foreign and domestic policy.”

  “You’re joking.” Devin scoffed.

  “No,” Clay said with a smile, “I’ve been talking to my people. We can do this. If we pool our resources and our abilities, we can be up and running in no time. Every Firstborn on a central payroll in constant contact with one another.”

  “You’re going to turn the Firstborn into a corporation,” Hannah stated.

  “Yes.” Clay nodded.

  “Isn’t that a little tacky?”

  He shrugged. “Sociology 101: It’s the natural progression of things. First comes religion, then politics, and then business.”

  Hannah frowned, not buying it. “What do you mean? Religion hasn’t gone away.”

  “True,” Clay conceded, “but the religious elite are no longer the ones who dictate values to the most people. They used to be—the Vatican, the theologians, the clergy—but then the Enlightenment came and government became the new leader in ideas.” Clay laughed to himself. “I mean, look at the Founding Fathers. They were practically deified in early America. The prophets of the new age. But”—he waved his hand airily—“all that has given way to the profits of the modern economy. It’s our corporations and advertisers who dictate our values now. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still make those Christ’s values.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “There are more ways to follow God than just going to church and doing religion. A person needs to make a difference in the world if they’re really going to live out their ideology—and that means growing out of religion and into a body that can make a change.”

  “Politics,” Devin interjected.

  “Yes.” Clay nodded. “But you have to pay for it all, which means business. It’s a natural progression of importance and social growth.” Clay took a drink. “One of the best examples is in Salt Lake City. The tallest building in a city is usually considered the most important, and in the beginning the Mormon Tabernacle was the tallest building in the city. That was back when people valued the opinions of their religious leaders. But times changed and society grew, and they built the capitol next door.”

  “And it was taller,” Hannah agreed.

  “And then came business, and those buildings tower over everything.” Clay paused for a moment of effect. “Power shifted. And if we want to be relevant in the world, we have to shift with it.”

  “You’re serious,” Hannah uttered, her mind finally wrapping around the concept.

  A shrug lifted Clay’s shoulders. “Sad fact, kiddos: while an individual may do a better job of having meaningful insight than large groups, individuals will never be able to accomplish anywhere near as much.” He took another drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm. “With unity and coordination—with a central vision at the core of our leadership, we can fix the world. We can change everything forever— and we can lead the world to a new era of peace and prosperity. We can bring the kingdom of heaven to Earth!”

  Devin cleared his throat. “You really think that it’s our place to ‘change’ the world?”

  “We can save the world,” Clay said with a nod.

  “And what if the world doesn’t want to be saved?”

  Clay waved a hand at Devin. “You’re just being a contrarian. Of course people want to be saved—and I’m going to make sure it happens.”

  Devin shook his head. “I don’t understand. How does this involve us?”

  “I want you with me,” Clay said, raising his bottle of water to them. “I want the best and the brightest of the Firstborn to be with me in this endeavor—this crusade. Can I count you in?”

  Devin was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “A lot of very terrible things have been done in this world while attempting to do something good. What you’re talking about sounds very risky.” Devin was quiet again for a moment. “I’m not ready to commit to your cause, but I do appreciate your help.”

  Clay sat back, letting the subject drop for the moment. “Of course I’ll help. Vince is scared of this Angelo guy.”

  Hannah spoke up. “And you’re not?”

  Clay shrugged. “Why should I be? I’ve caught glimpses of him skulking around for the past few years—nothing serious. He knew some private details about Vince’s wife and the affair she had with their pastor. Tough stuff. It scared Vince, but I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “So you have no problem with us stopping the Foster assassination?” Devin asked.

  Clay shook his head. “Not really. I think you’re wasting your time with small stuff, yes, but I see no reason to try to stop you like he has.”

  “Small stuff?” Hannah queried.

  “Yeah,” he said casually. “Truth be told, Senator Foster is a slime. If these guys don’t get him, somebody else will—and the world won’t be too sad without him. It’s not like he was any good as a senator anyway.”

  “It’s still wrong for people to try to kill him,” Devin said with resolve.

  “What about the girls?” Hannah asked. “Do you think that’s ‘small stuff’ too?”

  “Human trafficking isn’t going away,” Clay said. “Sadly, eight thousand girls were shipped into this country last year, and next year will be the same. There’s a demand in this country for sex without strings, and that’s not going to be solved by saving a few girls.” Clay turned his palms out. “Besides, I have reason to believe it may already be too late. But if you believe in this, then I’m not going to stop you. I’m just going to ask that you be darn certain this Angelo guy was wrong.”

  Devin spoke. “I don’t understand.”

  “Are you certain he’s wrong about the Firstborn being torn apart?” Clay took another sip of water. “Sure, he’s crazy. He’s seeing past, present, and future all at once, and it’s burning up his
mind. It’s too much for any normal person to handle. But are you so certain he’s bonkers that you’re willing to risk the future of the Firstborn?”

  “If you’re so concerned,” Devin asked, “why are you letting us do this?”

  Clay shrugged. “I’ve always been more interested in the present. In the moment. The future doesn’t bother me very often. Maybe he’s right; maybe he’s wrong. I wasn’t too fond of the way the Firstborn were anyway.”

  “So you’ll let terrible things happen if we’re wrong?” Hannah asked, amused by the concept.

  Clay remained casual. “I’m dying. My mortal life is going to be over sooner than I’d like to think. That’s changed my priorities. A year ago I was mostly an administrator. But today I have a vision of the way I’d like to leave the world.”

  “A legacy,” Hannah added.

  “Yes,” Clay agreed, “a legacy. And while saving a few girls is good, I’d rather bring an end to the whole practice of sexual predation for profit. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Hannah nodded, “it does.”

  “But if you believe that you can save these girls, I’m not going to stop you. Just be aware that Angelo may still be right—and you don’t want that to be your legacy, do you?”

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No.”

  “If you want my advice,” he said, putting the cap back on his water, “go to the sale tomorrow, and if that doesn’t bring everything to a happy conclusion, then drop it. Let it go. There’s no point in burning precious time chasing after one incident, and if you have any doubt about doing this stuff, then that’s a good deadline.”

  The cabin of the plane was quiet for several long seconds.

  “Is that all you wanted to discuss?” Devin asked.

  Clay thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess it was. Mostly, I want you to know that I trust you.”

  Hannah smiled cordially. “I’m very flattered.”

  “You should be,” Clay agreed. “I don’t trust people very well anymore. Not since my two grown sons were killed.” He eyed Devin for a moment, waiting for some kind of response, then turned his attention back to Hannah. “I’ve left Napa Valley only three times in the last two years. One of them was the night your grandfather was killed. One of them was today.”