Snake Eyes: A novel of the Demon Accords

by John Conroe

  The wall of seated committee members stared, completely shocked, as we set Wulf and Cora down and I unlimbered my baby bags.

  The chairman, Representative Lawson, actually had to close his mouth, but when he did, it went into a thin, angry line.

  He slammed his gavel with authority, but it took at least ten whacks before the noise subsided, even as the cameras kept clicking.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he asked us. The room went quiet to hear my response.

  “You demanded our presence. Here we are,” I said, staring him right in the eyes. I was designated bad cop for today’s show and tell.

  “You can’t bring babies in here,” he demanded.

  “You would have us leave them unattended? Unacceptable, Mr. Chairman. In fact, that’s criminal and inhumane,” I said, letting Grim peek out at him a bit.

  He blanched but before he could even sputter, Tanya, the good cop, stepped in. She placed one slim hand on my arm, turning apologetically to Lawson. “Mr. Chairman, our children have—unique requirements. If we aren’t the ones watching over them, it has to be one of our close staff members. They are all asleep this time of day,” she said, pointing at the clock above the chamber entrance.

  “Miss Demidova, this is unprecedented. You cannot expect this committee to believe you have no qualified fully human help to watch those children.” he said.

  “Chairman Lawson, these children, themselves, are unprecedented. Their nutritional requirements are completely unique. I have to be with them for them to feed,” Tanya said.

  “What requirements?” he asked, falling into her trap.

  “Breastfeeding, Mr. Chairman,” she said, waving a hand at her own chest. Her shoulders were back just slightly, which opened her jacket enough to highlight her pregnancy endowments pressing against her thin shirt. Tanya’s body had not gained any extra weight and the V-squared virus had almost instantly returned her to her pre-pregnancy figure, with just the addition of her aforementioned baby feeders. At least seventy cameras fired like machine guns.

  Lawson, and every other member of the committee—which numbered thirty or so—were all left speechless, staring awkwardly at her chest.

  Flushed, the vice chair, Martha Ratcliff, recovered faster than the men. “Have you heard of a breast pump, Miss Demidova?”

  “Are you an expert on Darkkin breastfeeding, Ms. Ratcliff?” Tanya asked. “Because as far as we know, I’m the first to do it. And so far, it turns out that Beowulf and Corella won’t drink pumped milk. Believe me, we’ve tried it. Our physician feels that they are more sensitive than most babies and don’t like anything but the real nipple.”

  I saw at least four men on the panel wince at the word nipple.

  “If you would prefer to convene after dark, we could have Darkkin staff to watch the children, although I would still need to feed them every hour or so,” Tanya said, her tone reasonable.

  “Nevermind. We will proceed. Our schedules are not so flexible as yours,” Lawson said, looking at Tanya and avoiding my eyes. “We will call this hearing to order. The House subcommittee on Homeland Security is hereby in session. Our purpose is to determine the events of the past week in Las Vegas and the extent of the risks to national security that the actions of Christian Gordon, Tatiana Demidova, Declan O’Carroll, and Stacia Reynolds, as well as others, represent. Just where are Mr. O’Carroll and Miss Reynolds? They too were named in the subpoena.”

  “As we indicated to your staff, Declan and Stacia are out of the country at this time,” I said.

  “Where are they? Leaving the country will not excuse them from Contempt of Congress,” Lawson said.

  I looked at Darion and Stephen. “Can I answer him or does the Executive order forbid that?” I asked them. They both shook their heads as per the script.

  “What Executive Order? I’m not aware that President Polner has had time to issue any orders,” Lawson asked.

  “Executive Order 13758 was issued by President Garth and classifies all information within the order as Top Secret, Code Word Brothers. I can tell you that Oracle is the agency tasked with handling Project Brothers,” I said. “According to the documents I signed, I cannot say anything else. You would need to speak to Nathan Stewart.”

  Lawson was completely nonplussed. Bernie Torres, the ranking member, according to his nameplate, jumped in.

  “Are you asking us to believe that you have Top Secret Clearance, Mr. Gordon?” he asked.

  “No, I would highly doubt that. I think you would find that Tanya and myself are more likely the classified topics, rather than being cleared for them,” I said.

  An aide stepped up behind Lawson and set a tablet down in front of him.

  “He is receiving a text from an anonymous source indicating that Code Word Brothers refers to a gate to another non-demonic world,” Omega said through my phone just loud enough for Tanya and me to hear.

  “May I remind you that this is the Homeland Security committee,” Lawson said, lifting his eyes from the tablet.

  “That would seem to be a topic for Oracle or the new president, Mr. Chairman,” Tanya said, rocking Wulf’s carseat. He seemed a bit fussier today than his sister.

  “So Mr. O’Carroll and Ms. Renolds are conveniently tied up on a purported mission for Oracle? We’ll be checking that fact as the hearing progresses,” Lawson said.

  Another aide stepped forward, a phone to his ear and, after apologizing to Lawson, handed him the phone. “Who is it?” Lawson demanded in disbelief.

  “Director Stewart of Oracle, sir,” the aide said.

  The chairman took the phone and stared at it, then hit the speaker button.

  “Representative Lawson? Nathan Stewart, of Oracle. Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to inform you that Declan O’Carroll and Stacia Reynolds are not available for your hearing by order of President Polner. They are engaged in a Code Word operation on behalf of our nation.”

  “Your timing is suspicious, Director Stewart,” Lawson growled.

  “Unavoidable, I’m afraid. The mission parameters require complete communications blackout prior to launch for operational security.”

  “Since you are on the phone, Director Stewart, perhaps you could enlighten the committee on parts of your report regarding Las Vegas?” Lawson asked, a slight smile on his face.

  “As long as the answers don’t cross into sensitive or secret information, Mr. Chairman,” Stewart replied.

  “So noted, Director, so noted,” Lawson said as he rifled through some papers. “In your conclusion you report that while the events in Las Vegas did not preclude a true ELE, you felt confident that they resulted in the best outcome for the nation. What did you mean by ELE?”

  “Wasn’t that properly footnoted?” Stewart asked. “My apologies. I use that abbreviation so frequently of late that I must have failed to adequately annotate it. It stands for Extinction Level Event, a term used at our level to identify a grave threat to the continued existence of the human race.”

  “And you felt that the world was not, in fact, in danger of extinction? That the dangers were not that great?” Lawson asked, eyes watching us.

  “I say it wasn’t a true ELE, but it was still very, very serious, Chairman Lawson. Our best estimates indicate that if things had not worked out in Las Vegas, the world population would likely have decreased by approximately one point seven billion in the first ninety days. One year out, total losses would likely exceed two point four billion, perhaps more. So no, not true extinction. Most of the early losses would be felt by the United States and Canada. As we are entering winter, the resulting climatic changes would likely result in enormous loss of life in the northern climate countries of Europe and Asia. Follow-on losses would result from starvation.”

  Lawson’s face had blanched, then he frowned, rapidly shuffling through the pages of what must have been Stewart’s report.

  “Thank you, Director. That should be sufficient, I think,” Lawson said. Wulf chose that moment to make a small co
oing sound.

  “Oh, was that by chance one of the twins?” Stewart asked. “You are extremely lucky, Chairman Lawson. Those are without a doubt the most unique babies in the world.”

  “Yes, fine, thank you, Director. We must continue on though. Goodbye,” Lawson said, rapidly hitting the disconnect on the cell phone. Ratcliff leaned over and whispered in his ear.

  “Yes, right. Miss Demidova, you mentioned earlier that your babies require unique nutritional requirements. Did you mean blood?” Lawson asked.

  “They subsist on the unique milk my body produces, Mr. Chairman, not blood. If you are asking if they’re vampires, the answer is that we don’t think so. Not truly,” Tanya replied.

  “What is so special about your milk?” Bernie Torres asked.

  “It contains high levels of the V-squared virus,” I interjected.

  “Ah, the same virus responsible for creating vampires, correct?” Torres asked.

  “In part. I too am riddled with V-squared, yet I’m not a vampire. The babies were born with the virus throughout their systems, yet they don’t have definitive vampire characteristics,” I said.

  “Such as?” Torres asked.

  “I was born with canines, Representative Torres, and required blood for my sustenance ” Tanya said. “The twins have no teeth yet. They also are not bothered by sunlight, as shown by their presence here today.”

  “What characteristics do they show?” Lawson asked.

  “Nothing monstrous, Mr. Chairman. They are exceedingly healthy, very alert, and have not lost any of their birth weight. That’s about it.”

  “Do they heal rapidly? Are they resistant to cold?” Torres asked.

  “That would require us to injure them or place them in a cold environment in order to test that, Mr. Torres. Nobody is injuring my babies or placing them in any sort of injurious conditions,” Tanya said, her voice hardening. “Should anyone seek to do so, I will object—strenuously.”

  “As would any parent,” I said. “Would you cut your kids to see how well they heal, sir?”

  “My children were not born riddled with a virus that many believe might be the fountain of youth, Mr. Gordon, or I might have,” Torres said.

  “Then perhaps we should be holding a hearing on your parenting skills,” I said.

  “Enough. This hearing is being conducted to determine the risks that your actions have created, not ours,” Lawson said. We stayed silent while he reviewed his notes.

  “While we are on the topic of blood and the virus, let us talk a moment about the damage your corporation has done to the world’s medical system,” Lawson finally said.

  We waited.

  He arched his brows. “Well?” he asked.

  “Did you ask a question?” Tanya answered after sharing a puzzled look with me. We were carefully playing to the media, as Attorney Meers had advised.

  “What do you have to say about the damage inflicted on pharmaceutical and biotechnology companies throughout the world by your offerings?” Ratcliffe asked before Lawson could.

  “Are you talking about the decline in share price or earnings, or both? And to be clear, Demidova Corp does not, at this time, offer any medical treatments. We are developing and testing treatments, but nothing is being sold at this time, and none of the testing takes place here in the United States,” Tanya said.

  “I am, of course, talking about the destruction of share value and diminished earnings of those companies,” Ratcliffe said.

  “Surely you realize those are market actions, right? We don’t invest in any of those companies ourselves, but the stock markets have re-evaluated those prices by normal means. That’s not our fault. In terms of lost revenue, I believe that stems from those companies' own aggressive price cutting to maintain market share for their product lines. That is a direct response to a decline in demand,” Tanya said.

  “We don’t need a lesson in stock market actions and theories, young lady. We want answers to the monopoly you hold on your virus-based treatments,” Ratcliffe said.

  “None of which are for sale. Testing is continuing, but we don’t charge those who undertake the test treatments. In fact, we pay their expenses incurred to participate,” Tanya said. “We’re losing money on research, much like other companies do.”

  “Yet your test subjects are all miraculously healed of their afflictions,” Ratcliffe said, almost accusing.

  “Preliminary testing has been very positive,” Tanya said.

  “And what will happen to our medical corporations when you do begin selling these treatments? You’ll drive them out of business, destroying jobs by the thousands, wiping billions of equity value away in a week,” Lawson said.

  “Are you implying that it is illegal to produce new technology, Mr. Chairman? That anything that threatens the product lines of these companies, which I believe all donated heavily to your last re-election campaign, is to be crushed?” I asked. “Last time I looked, disruptive innovation wasn’t illegal.”

  “Watch yourself, Mr. Gordon,” Torres said, but Lawson raised a hand to restrain him, smiling at me.

  “Let’s talk about disruptive technology, Mr. Gordon. Disruptive computer technology in particular. Tell us about Omega,” he said, a vicious smile on his face.

  “If you are referring to the Omega computing project, that is proprietary information,” I said.

  “We have it on good authority, by direct information from one of your former board members, that you’ve developed a true quantum computer,” Lawson asked.

  “That was the goal of the project, a project that many other corporations and countries are currently engaged in,” I said.

  “Yet Mr. Cryor says that you’ve actually achieved it. That your technology is so far above anything else out there that it makes it obsolete. That kind of technology is, if true, world-changing. So much so that it becomes a matter of national security,” Lawson said.

  “Ah, so this is where you’ve been headed this whole time? You want to seize our technology in the name of national security,” I said. “That’s called nationalization and it’s the hallmark of a facist society.”

  “No Mr. Gordon, it’s a concept called societal inequality. You, with your powers and strengths, your looks and wealth, your medicines and technology, take much more from the society than you give back,” Lawson said.

  Whoa. I felt myself pull back, feeling Tanya do the same. We said nothing, studying him… them.

  “Your advantages are too great for any normal human to even begin to reach your positions. What you have is virtually unattainable by anyone else,” Lawson said.

  “So you are talking about taking what we’ve built and doing what? Redistribution to the masses? No, more like redistribution to the elite. You, Chairman Lawson, were born to wealthy parents with a highly successful family trucking business. You grew up with homes in Indiana, Key West, and Costa Rica. You attended Yale, received your law degree from Georgetown, and were hired right out of law school. Should we break up Lawson Shipping and give its pieces away?” Tanya asked. “You want to use your political platform to seize a technology that you don’t understand, to harness it for America’s elite class. That’s what we’re really talking about about here, isn’t it?”

  “Says the twenty-five year old with the billion-dollar business,” Lawson said.

  “Oh, no other young billionaires out there? Starting Facebooks, Googles, Amazons, Paypals, apps, programs, technology, medical processes, or social media?” Tanya asked him.

  “The difference is that their inventions didn’t render all others obsolete. Mr. Cryor feels you achieved your breakthrough less than seven months ago. By every measurable business metric known, Demidova Corporation has exploded during that time. I would dearly love to bring your company under investigation for being a monopoly, but we don’t even know enough about what you are actually doing to figure it out. The best business analysts on Wall Street are baffled by your results,” Lawson said.

  “I would love
to tell you, I really would,” my vampire said. “I would like nothing more than to explain how much more money we’ve given to charities this year than last. How many jobs we’ve created around the world through direct and indirect means, how many lives we’ve enriched through ownership of our stock, how many children we’ve saved with just the testing of potential treatments. How many demons my Chosen has sent back to Hell. But you’ve shown yourselves too clearly. This isn’t a congressional hearing on Las Vegas, or even on our powers. It’s a power grab wrapped up in a witch hunt. Burn them at the stake so the magistrate can seize their holdings. My mother is over two hundred and fifty years old, Mr. Lawson. Her mother is older than most countries. My bedtime stories were filled with people like you. In my world, you were the monster. We’re done here.”