by O. J. Lowe
Could he do that? Sudden panic gripped at his heart. Nwakili hadn’t even considered that an option. Surrender. Bend. He might not have to die after all.
But what sort of life would it be? At the beck and call of a madwoman, always having to watch out for fresh new assassins who’d be out for his blood because he’d betrayed the other four kingdoms. It’d mean turning his back on everything he’d believed in, everything he’d based his life on. The Senate might have betrayed him, but it didn’t mean his own loyalty to them had been shattered. He’d sworn an oath, he’d meant it. Even his imminent death wasn’t going to change that. Leonard Nwakili knew he didn’t have much left, but he did have his integrity and he’d take it to the grave with him.
He couldn’t do it. The moment the words came out of his mouth telling Domis to go and engage in a depraved act with a goat, the big man reacted, grasped him by the neck and the ankles before smashing him down hard face first into the ground. Not just once, not just twice but repeatedly, over and over. Even if Nwakili had been able to fight back, any resistance would have been knocked out of him by the first blow. Gratefully he lapsed into unconsciousness, the pain the last thing he felt as a living man. Soon there was very little left to distinguish him as a human being, never mind who he’d once been.
Several days later, an announcement was made on the steps outside the very same palace following a frantic effort to clean up the gardens and restore peace to the city, that Phillipe Mazoud had been named the new Premier of Vazara. Mazoud was there, making efforts to look what he probably considered to be regal, while Claudia Coppinger herself placed the crown on his head and took his oath to serve her in her new world and to renounce the cruel and self-serving Senate of the Five Kingdoms.
“Because,” Mazoud said, looking at the videocam with a pleased expression burned into his features. “The Senate did not come to Vazara’s aid when my predecessor asked for it. Vazara will not ask again. Vazara will not offer it. For all intents and purposes, five has just become four for the time being. But fear not, other kingdoms. One day, we will be reunited under a new banner. The Age of Unification has passed. The Age of Coppinger has begun.”
Chapter Three. The Reformation.
“To change is to survive. To adapt is to thrive. Sometimes in order to raise up the new, the old needs to be displaced. There will be those that don’t like that. They fear change in the same way they fear inevitability. The kingdoms have changed too many times already for the fear of change to paralyse us with its poison. If we do not do something, gentlemen, we may face greater change than simply Unisco.”
Opening statement in the argument for Unisco reform in the Senate.
They’d swept through the plans for new Unisco reformations just a few scant hours after the attack on Carcaradis Island. The Senate had acted, and nobody had been able to stop them. With Terrence Arnholt on his deathbed, Brendan King had been stepped up to the role of temporary director until they knew for sure what would happen. With their leader out of action, they’d done the best they could to keep on going, but everyone knew Brendan’s authority to only be temporary. It made it hard to take him seriously. The changes had kept coming and coming despite protests from him becoming increasingly feeble. Either he’d given up or chosen not to oppose them. Fervour had been ramped up in recent days, the need for suspected Coppinger sympathisers were to be rounded up as quickly as possible, apprehended and interrogated was present across every agent, even if they weren’t sure where to look.
Meanwhile, Arnholt was recovering slowly from his wounds. When the memo had gone around the building he’d be returning, there’d been a collective sigh of relief. Even the true director might not have been able to resist the changes that had been imposed on them by the Senate, but many felt he’d have done a better job of compromise than Brendan had. Too many suspected he wanted the job full-time to try and fight with the powerbrokers on a decision like this. The Senate had a big hand in appointing the director of Unisco after all, rumour had it that they’d not been entirely happy with Arnholt’s wilful ways after granting him the job.
It even hadn’t escaped the outside world with several political commentators remarking on how unsavoury it was to be reshaping and restructuring Unisco at a time when national securities across the five kingdoms were about to be tested. They’d either been ignored or marginalised. Everyone had been surprised when Arnholt had endorsed the changes, speaking passionately about the decision to reform a previously oversized unwieldy organisation into thirteen separate departments under the same banner. He’d spoken minimally about them but with great passion, chosen to go along with any hope for change, citing the importance of dealing with Claudia Coppinger as quickly as possible.
Outside, a storm was brewing, lightning striking the sky at intermittent intervals, thunder threatening to rip through the rain with its omniscient boom. And shielded from it all, the heads of the thirteen departments found themselves meeting on Arnholt’s first day back on the job, along with an aide of their choice. The director was the first to arrive, still walking stiffly following his shooting, but otherwise feeling in good health. He entered the room and took in the view for himself, running an absentminded hand across the back of his seat to check for dust. He did it for another, still deep in thought. In the pit of his stomach, he wasn’t as happy as had been made out by the changes thrust upon the organisation in his absence, he definitely wasn’t happy with Brendan King for facilitating it. The relationship between the two of them had been fading for many months now, they’d once been close friends, now they could barely tolerate each other. Like it as not, he was King’s boss and as he’d told him on more than one occasion, if he didn’t like it, he knew where the door was.
Whether he was happy or not was irrelevant to this whole situation, the sad fact remained that it had happened. Leave the blame at the door and see that it works. His only option was the same as the one he’d offered King. If he didn’t like it, he knew where the door was. And he wasn’t about to walk out amidst a crisis like this. That’d be irresponsible, he’d be failing in his duty of care to the kingdoms. When the Coppinger situation was defused, then there would be words with the people who’d set about making these unwanted changes. He’d at least recovered in time to have final say on the choices for the department heads, he wasn’t about to leave that in the hands of Brendan King. He didn’t want to have twelve people sympathetic to probably his biggest rival to the position sat around him. It could make things very difficult indeed, although he held no doubts as to the integrity of those who worked here, he didn’t believe in taking undue chances.
Predictably, King was the first man through the door, along with his chosen aide, Nicholas Roper. Arnholt wasn’t surprised by the choice, Roper had been quietly going about Unisco business more and more over the past six months according to the records, completing every assignment laid to him with the same ruthless efficiency as he employed on the calling battlefield. He’d completed more assignments in the past six months than he had in the two years before it, more than that, he was actually volunteering every time one linked to the Coppingers came up. He looked fantastic, like he’d really been putting the time and effort in at the gym, he looked as deadly now as Arnholt had ever seen an agent ever.
It didn’t take a genius to see that he’d made it personal. Given Rocastle had pretty much admitted to the death of his future wife and Rocastle’s ties to the Coppingers, Roper had cut himself off from the life he’d led, leading a terrifying one-man stream of vengeance. Rumour had it that Brendan King was on the verge of making him his second in command in the operations department. Not only had he been completing assignments himself, he’d been running command for others, a less dangerous position but one no less stressful. The operations department was in as good a pair of pair of hands it’d likely ever be in. He might have doubts about the way King had run the entire organisation, but he’d been in charge of ops for over thirty years before and he knew what he was doing there. A
nd Roper, well, Arnholt had a great sense of personal gratitude to the man. He’d saved his daughter’s life after all.
Through the door next came the new deputy director, Walter Swelph and the head of the Management department, the day-to-day stuff that Arnholt himself didn’t have the time to deal with. Swelph was a new appointment to the post, another Arnholt wasn’t entirely pleased with, he’d been a joint Brendan King-slash-Senate appointment and while he hadn’t done anything out of character, he was looking for an excuse to step him back down. Swelph was a bald man prone to paunchiness with an impressive moustache that hid most of his mouth. His aide followed him in, a petite redhead in a severely cut suit of midnight blue, Arnholt didn’t know her name.
More and more were coming in next, Liam Caulker, the head of Intelligence, Rosemary Dyer of Records and Allison Crumley of Public Relations all in conversation until they stepped through the door, he caught some of it. Nothing beyond what he’d have expected of them. William Okocha and Ross Navarro of Surveillance and Equipment respectively came in next. Navarro had undergone something of a meteoric rise in the organisation recently, he’d not long since been a pilot and engineer but following the Carcaradis Island event where he’d held out under Coppinger capture, he’d taken to the organisation with a new lease of life. Not, Arnholt had noted, unlike Roper. Possibly the hardest decision he’d made in regards of the roles, he had to admit. Six months ago, Alvin Noorland would have been nailed on for it. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. They all missed Noorland.
The Espionage head, Parley Khan, mother of Prideaux, strode in alone, no aide with her. That surprised him, or it would have had he not known her as well as it did. She didn’t do things by halves. That included responsibility. Her daughter was the same, he had a lot of respect for the both of them. Tod Brumley, now responsible for Recruitment and the academy came in on her heels. Brumley looked tired, like he was yearning for simpler days. Nobody had had any responsibility foisted on them that they were deemed incapable of dealing with, yet some carried it better than others. Tobias Ojo, head of Logistics walked in with Daniel Kearns, in charge of the Liaison department and Othella Carpenter, the Property manager for the organisation. It was her duty to discover suitable locations for safehouses and field offices, a prestigious position.
That left, by his count, just one more department. Silently he cursed them as he looked at the timepiece on his wrist. They’d best not be late for this meeting. Already they were viewed as a less than credible way for credits to be spent during the current crisis, and given the way things were, he couldn’t afford for them to come off as a bit of a joke department. It just wouldn’t do. He felt it had been a good idea at the time, he just hoped that he wasn’t going to be proved wrong.
The door opened, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Vassily Derenko, the newly minted head of the Department of Mysteries, along with Ruud Baxter at his side, walked in like they owned the place. Arnholt was privately just glad that they’d shown up. Neither of them looked unduly bothered by being the last to arrive, they sat down at the back of the room, the only seats left in the room. Nobody else met their eyes.
That particular department was a new addition and one he had personally invested the effort into, though he was aware that there were those who bore scepticism towards its inception. That those same individuals doubtless didn’t know the true purpose behind the department made him care very little about their opinions. He’d needed something like this. He had Baxter’s people running around as part of the organisation, Baxter had initially wanted to be in charge of the department himself. Not a way in seven hot hells was Arnholt going to let that happen, before the atrocity on Carcaradis Island, Ruud Baxter hadn’t been a Unisco agent for a good five years. He’d left on good terms. Even passed his majeur de ceperacion, the last such time it had been implemented. But the Vedo… They brought plenty to the table. He just didn’t want them self-governing. Hence his appointment of Derenko to the role to ensure they were overseen correctly. Derenko had brought in a dozen or so major crime bosses from across the five kingdoms on that Eye of Claudia mission, he’d earned a promotion. And, Arnholt had been pleased with this idea, he’d seen the work ethic from Derenko many, many times to make him think this the right idea. More than that, he was strong-willed enough to resist Baxter’s particular brand of suggestion if it came down to it. The most important trait of them all.
This department, if it was going to get off the ground, needed someone like that in charge. Someone who would make it work. He still wasn’t keen on the name, but it was possibly the least important facet of the entire process. They dealt in the unknown, a department slowly increasing its personnel. Baxter had tested many of the Unisco agents for an uncanny ability to touch the Kjarn and he was building up the ranks of those he was training. In six months, the number of Vedo had exploded from a handful to more than fifty in training. Hence the reason he was surprised Baxter was present. Those who he’d already trained had gone on missions. None had been killed. Every commanding officer he’d read reports from had praised them as important assets that had made the difference, had spoken about their ability to fit into the makeup of the team, of their professionalism in the field under fire.
So far, he felt justified. However, he would have felt a lot more confident in the program if he’d been certain that across the other side of the board, Wim Carson wasn’t doing the same thing. On that front, they remained ignorant and it rankled. Considering that had been Baxter’s entire offer, to hunt the rogue Vedo down, it felt like the Vedo were getting more out of this offer than Unisco were for the time being. If the arrangement was to continue, that might have to change in the future. Successful skirmishes were one thing. The big battles were where the wars were won.
The time for introspection was over. He cleared his throat, banged his fist on the table and spoke aloud. His first speech since returning to active duty
“Welcome,” he said. “We all know why we’re here. It’s good to see you all for the first time in your new roles. I know none of us are happy about the way this has been forced upon us…” He lingered his gaze on Brendan for a moment, the man’s craggy features set in a decidedly neutral expression. If he didn’t appreciate the comment, he didn’t show it. “... But there’s nothing much we could have done about it. What we need to do is ensure that we get up to speed as quickly as possible. We can’t afford to screw around with the task at hand here and now. The Coppingers…” He wasn’t comfortable referring to the group under that moniker, but it had stuck. They followed Claudia Coppinger’s insane leadership, they’d been party to what she’d done at the Quin-C final. It summed them up. They were what they were and nothing more. “… They’re not going to go away. You each know what you’re meant to do. Do it. It’s been six months. We all know what we’re good at. We all know what needs to be done. The swifter we resolve internally, the faster we can get back to where the true work is.”
There was a huge elephant in the room, he didn’t want to bring it up, but he had no choice. “First things first… Vazara.”
If anything, the silence in the room became even more potent. They’d all seen the signs. The news footage. They’d heard the stories about how Nwakili had demanded more protection from the Senate to shore up his own rapidly depleting army and he’d been let down. It was something that had cost them a kingdom. The silence wasn’t for that. Leonard Nwakili had been a Unisco agent once. The loss was profound, to say the minimum. When one of their own died, they felt it.
“We all know what the Senate did. We cannot change that. What we can do is remember Leonard Nwakili and everything that he did while he was alive. He was a good man…” He hadn’t been really, but to be pedantic about him now that he was dead just felt churlish. “… and he played his part in the security of the five kingdoms when he was with this organisation. Vazara has lost a leader who you always knew where you stood with. I will miss dealing with him.”
He knew what to expect
with Phillipe Mazoud as well, but it wasn’t really anything he looked forward to. “He was my friend. He epitomised the spirit that Unisco needs to utilise in order to conquer this challenge.” He cleared his throat again, saw everyone had their heads bowed. Deep within the centre of each Unisco building, there was a wall with the name of every Unisco agent, past and present who had been killed in action. Though Nwakili had long left them, his name was being added to it even as they spoke. The way he had acquitted himself in his final moments, he deserved that honour.
“Vazara. It has fallen. Phillipe Mazoud has declared himself Premier under the blessing of Claudia Coppinger. We have lost an ally; they have gained a foothold. More and more people from that kingdom feel she’s got the right idea. The word from our intelligence sources tell us how they feel she gave them something nobody else has been able to do, ever in their history. She gave them their kingdom back, she stripped away the harsh deserts and gave them fertile land and more water than they can ever drink. She built the factories to purify the water, she invested in the kingdom and there are no longer people starving there. They’re getting basic human rights we take for granted over here, and for that, she has their undying love. She’s won a major victory, as far as that kingdom is concerned.”
Okocha scowled, Arnholt tried not to look at him. Hard to tell what was going through the minds of the Vazaran Unisco agents at a time like this. There had to be some sort of conflict within them. He didn’t doubt the professionalism of any of them.
“Premier Mazoud’s first declaration was to split away from the rest of the five kingdoms. He made his point that Unisco are no longer welcome there, our jurisdiction is no longer recognise. Any Unisco agents of Vazaran descent who wish to return and work for him will be forgiven for their betrayal of the kingdom and will be permitted to use their talents to increase the Vazaran advancement.”