by Liz Wolfe
“Hey, Ethan. The receptionist said I could come back.”
Ethan motioned Drake into the office. “Come on in, Drake. We may have to cut it short. I just found out Senator Hemings has scheduled a meeting in a few minutes.”
“I would have thought he’d be too busy after winning the election.”
“You’d think,” Ethan said. Senator Hemings wasn’t letting that stand in the way of his work as the chairman of the Intelligence Adherence Committee. In spite of what had to be a packed schedule, he was still doing his committee work and requested regular meetings with a variety of CIA officials, and he continued to attend congressional sessions. Ethan wondered if the man was really human.
“I suppose he wants to make sure we’re still adhering to all the rules.” Drake snorted.
Ethan waved a hand. “They don’t understand that our kind of work can’t always be accomplished within the boundaries of rules. But I’ll meet with him and tell him what he wants to hear.”
“What he wants to hear or what you want him to hear?”
Ethan smiled thinly but didn’t answer. “How do you feel? Ready to work again?”
“More than ready. Not really thrilled about desk duty, though.”
“I know. But it’s necessary. We’re not going to send you back out until we’re sure you’ve recovered. Besides that, I need you as Zoe’s handler.”
“Yeah. About that, Ethan. I really don’t think I’ll be effective as a handler.”
Ethan swiveled his chair to stare at Drake. “You can stop right there. You will be Zoe’s handler because you have more firsthand information about the Order than anyone. Zoe is an excellent thief, and that’s the only reason we have this opportunity. But she’s not an agent.”
“Right. I understand that. But I just don’t know that I’ll be any good at directing someone from the sidelines.”
“You’ll have plenty of resources for that. But we need your input. There will be times when we need to give her direction. You’ll be a key player in that.”
Drake clenched his jaw causing a cheek muscle to jump spasmodically. “I guess there’s no talking you out of it.”
“No.” Ethan shook his head and hid a smile. “There isn’t.” He turned toward his telephone as he heard Susan’s voice.
“Mr. Calder, President-elect Hemings is here to see you. He’s on his way in.”
On his way in was Susan’s way of letting him know that Hemings wasn’t about to cool his heels outside. He’d been the same way before he’d won the election. Ethan straightened his tie and stood behind his desk. “We’ll talk more about this later, Drake.” He glanced at his watch. “Evidently, handling the situation with the Order doesn’t keep me busy enough. The director has decided I have time to play congressional liaison.” Ethan didn’t care for Jefferson Hemings and refused to refer to him as President-elect Hemings.
The door opened as Ethan was speaking, and Hemings stepped in without knocking. Hemings was tall enough that most people had to look up at him, and at sixty-three he still had the imposing physique of a man who worked out regularly and strenuously. The first black senator from Virginia, Hemings had served three terms before he’d campaigned for the presidency.
“Good morning, Senator Hemings.” Ethan nodded at Drake. “Do you know Drake Leatherman?”
“You’re the one who came back from the Order, right?” Hemings asked.
“Yes, sir.” Drake shook the senator’s hand. “Nice to meet you. And congratulations on winning the election.” He took a step toward the door.
“Thank you. Why don’t you join us? I’m impressed with your abilities. And I understand you’re back at work already?” Hemings sat down and placed his briefcase on his lap.
“Yes, sir. Desk duty for a while, though.”
“I know that has to be hard. But take the time to recover fully. Tell me; were you able to learn much from your infiltration of the Order?”
Drake sat back down. “Not as much as we’d hoped, sir. But we’ll keep working on it.”
Senator Hemings nodded. “I read about your success last year in Italy. The information you were able to provide helped us take down that arms dealer.”
“Thank you, sir. Just doing my job.”
“Ethan, what are the plans for further infiltration of the Order?” Hemings held up a hand. “I’m only asking because of the committee. I understand that when we aren’t able to infiltrate and obtain information in the usual manner, there’s a tendency to want to use more unorthodox methods.”
Ethan laughed and sat down behind his desk. “Of course, the temptation is always there, Senator Hemings.”
“Please. Call me Jefferson.”
Ethan nodded. “The CIA is being very circumspect in this situation. Of course, we’re concerned about what the Order is up to. We want to know more. But we also realize that they haven’t actually done anything at this point. We’re absolutely playing by the rules.”
“That’s good to hear. But we still can’t confirm that they’re responsible for the abduction of Giovanni Castiglia?”
“No. We suspect, naturally, but we don’t have any proof. No intel that would assure us they are responsible.”
“I see.” Hemings leaned back in his chair and tented his hands, his fingertips tapping together. “Any word on Forrester?”
“Nothing new. We’re still researching him and the possible reasons for his leaving the NSA.”
“Good. Information is vital. And I want to assure you that the committee has not been formed in order to deter you from your task. We just want to make sure that everything is being handled properly.”
“Absolutely, Senator. And it is. Was there anything specific you wanted to see while you’re here?” Ethan asked.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to take a look at the Satellite Observance Operations. The committee doesn’t really have an interest in that area, but I’ve always been fascinated by it personally.”
“Of course. I’d show you myself, but I have another meeting soon.” Ethan picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Susan, would you ask Jeremy to take Senator Hemings on a tour of the Sat Ops room?” Ethan had already known that Jefferson Hemings hadan interest in the Satellite Observance area and had arranged to have Jeremy Olson standing by to conduct a tour. Hemings would be out of his office and safely in the hands of an agent who knew exactly what to show him and what to avoid. His office door opened and Jeremy stepped inside.
“Jeremy. Thanks for coming. This is Senator Jefferson Hemings. I’d like you to show him the Satellite Observance operations room. Answer all his questions and give him full access to everything.”
Jeremy shook Senator Hemings’s hand. “Glad to be of service, sir. If you’ll follow me?”
When they were out of the room, Ethan turned to Drake. “I don’t want you to say a single word to Senator Hemings that you haven’t cleared with me, understood?”
Drake lifted his eyebrows. “What are we hiding from him? He’s going to be president soon, you know.”
“He isn’t the president yet.” Ethan smoothed his thin hair. “Specifically, I don’t want Hemings to know that we’re using Zoe on this. If or when that becomes necessary, I’ll take care of it.”
November 30, Florence Italy
Capo removed the roll of parchment from the safe and laid it on his desk. He closed the safe, spun the dial, and swung the painting back into place. The parchment crackled as he unrolled it, but he wasn’t concerned. It wasn’t the original. That was kept in a much safer place than his office. He’d gone to some lengths to ensure that the copy looked as old as the original, which had been penned in the early eighteen hundreds. This copy wasn’t complete, either. He’d left out the illustrations and quite a bit of the text. There was just enough here to show everyone that the time had come and that he was the one chosen to bring it all to fruition. A soft knock sounded at the door and Capo glanced at the clock.
“Come,” he said. He rolled
the parchment up and secured the leather thong around it.
“The Triumvirate is waiting in the conference room, sir.”
“Very good, Esteban.” Capo handed the young man the parchment. “Have this put in the frame and placed in the auditorium. Let the others in a half hour before the meeting starts.”
“Yes, sir.” Esteban took the roll of parchment. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No.” Capo shook his head. “Not until tomorrow.
I’ll meet with the Triumvirate and then we’ll join the others.” Capo watched Esteban walk down the hall. The young man handled the parchment with the respect it deserved, and Capo knew he would personally place the document in the glass-enclosed frame and set it upon the stand near the entrance to the auditorium. Capo closed the door to his office and locked it, then opened the door on the other side of the room and stepped inside the conference room.
“Gentlemen,” Capo said as he took his seat at the round conference table. The three men shifted in their chairs. “We are getting close to our goal. Everything is falling into place just as the Legacy foretold.” The Legacy had pointed out each one of them to him as the men he would need to run the Order in order to succeed. But only he was privy to the whole truth. He was the Chosen One. This was the legacy of the Brotherhood. It was his duty, his privilege to bring it into focus, to make it happen.
“How much will you be announcing to the General Order tonight?” Weisbaum asked.
“Not everything. Not that they aren’t to be trusted, of course. But it’s better to feed them the information as they need it.”
“I agree,” von Bayem said. “Too much, too soon, and some of them are likely to rush to the conclusion.”
“Exactly. And the Legacy warns us against that.”
Capo smiled at the men. “Tonight we will only tell them that we have found the man who reads the corrupted language and the woman who will deliver the secrets.”
“It still amazes me that the Legacy mentions them specifically,” Simitiere said. “Just proves how right this is. How it is meant to be.”
“Precisely, Pierre. Zoe Alexander will deliver all the documents to us, and Logan Forrester will tell us what they say. Then we will be ready to work on the first phase.”
“How long before the energy source is developed and useful?” von Bayem asked.
Capo considered him from under lowered eyes. Von Bayem was most interested in the energy source. Although it was only a part of the overall plan. An important part, to be sure. Development of an inexpensive energy source would give them power. The power of having something that everyone wanted. “After we have all the documents and they have been interpreted, it shouldn’t take more than a few months. All the information is there.”
“You aren’t going to mention our recently acquired spy?” Simitiere asked.
“No. There’s no need to. We know that the Legacy tells us that we must have him. And the General Order knows that it is mentioned in the Legacy. Butthere are some who might have a problem with spying. They might not be able to see the necessity.”
“It’s all for the greater good of the world,” Weisbaum said. “But I agree. Some might not see it that way. Especially the Americans.”
“That will all change. Within our lifetimes, men, women, and children will cease to identify with a certain country. Everyone will become citizens of the world. A united world that will live in peace. Working together to make a better world. We will cure disease and eliminate prejudice.”
The three men nodded their agreement.
“Gentlemen, we are building a utopia. Let us never lose sight of our goal.”
Von Bayem lifted his glass to Capo, and Weisbaum and Simitiere nodded. Capo was pleased at their agreement, but not surprised. He expected no less. They had all been indoctrinated, first by their fathers, and later by him. They truly understood and believed. He’d made sure of it. Going over the Legacy with each of them until they knew in their hearts that it was the right time and that he was the leader to follow. The Legacy documents had revealed each of them to him, and he had followed the instructions from the Legacy to bring them fully into the fold.
It was too bad that he couldn’t have had the Ascendants here to speak to the General Order. But itwas too difficult to gather the thirty men and women without undue publicity. The Ascendants were always in the public eye. Men and a few women in positions of power all over the world. Presidents, premieres, sheikhs, princes, some powerful men in the Universal Banking Association, heads of multinational corporations. They were the kind of people the press paid close attention to. Separately, they influenced the face of the world. Together they were becoming indomitable.
Even the General Order consisted of men and women who were powerful in their own right. Senator Hemings, in particular, was a most valuable asset. Descended from Thomas Jefferson, an original member of the Brotherhood, and his slave Sally Hemings, Senator Hemings had been prepared by his father for his destiny, both as the future president of the United States and as a member of the Order. In just a couple of months, the Order would boast a U.S. president among its ranks.
“Let’s go tell the General Order our good news.” Capo stood and walked to the door, the three men falling in behind him. They took the elevator down to the auditorium in silence. When the elevator opened onto the sublevel, they walked to the end of the hall and entered the small chamber that led to the auditorium stage. Capo straightened his tie and led them through the double doors. The Triumvirate stood behind himas the heavy velvet curtains opened.
Immediately the people surged to their feet applauding. Capo held up his hands to quiet them. These were only a fraction of the twelve thousand who made up the General Order. There were another hundred thousand or so beneath the General Order who believed in the Order and the utopia they were about to achieve. And under that were half a million who were just beginning to be indoctrinated. Capo smiled at the tip of the iceberg as they stopped clapping and settled into their chairs.
He knew he was the single perfect snowflake that had drifted down from heaven to rest at the very top of that tip.
December 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Yes, Robyn?” Ethan said when he picked up the phone.
“Tech op is complete for Agent Alexander.”
“Ms. Alexander. She’s not an agent.”
“If it walks like an agent and talks like an agent and uses my tech ops …” Robyn chuckled. “Do you want me to report to Agent Leatherman, too? I mean, since he’s her handler?”
“Yes, please do. Thanks, Robyn.” Ethan hung up the phone. Robyn seemed confused about reporting to both him and Drake and rightfully so. Normally she’d report the completion only to the handler. But Ethan had only named Drake as Zoe’s handler because he had some experience with the Order. And because it was a way of keeping Drake on desk duty a little longer. He wanted to make sure there were no psychological repercussions from Drake’s experience with them. He was concerned about Zoe flying to Italy for the Order and had considered pulling her out. In spite of Robyn’s tech ops, Zoe was not an agent. He supposed the upside of that was that there was probably less chance of her actually being exposed to the Order.
His phone rang again and he pushed thoughts of Zoe and the Order from his mind. “Hello?”
“Ethan, there’s a briefing in conference room ten in five minutes.”
“What’s it about?” Ethan asked the division chief, Kevin Bolton.
“More terrorist activity, what else?”
Ethan sighed and hung up the phone. Was there anything else? Everyone had become so attuned to the threat of terrorism that it seemed like everything was blown out of proportion. Still, the CIA couldn’t ignore even the smallest incident. So every hint of terrorist activity was taken seriously and thoroughlyinvestigated. He logged off his computer and grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to the conference room. Probably, he could have gotten out of the briefings since he was only here to dea
l with the Order. But he knew he might hear some information that could relate to the Order.
Several other senior agents and supervisors were already there. Ethan had just taken his seat when Kevin entered from a side door and sat at the head of the conference table. He clicked the remote to the LCD projector connected to his laptop, and an image displayed on the screen on the wall behind him.
“This is Ziyad Al-Din. We’ve been watching him for a while. Our latest intel indicates that he’s the head of a new terrorist cell, Jammat al-Qadar. Ziyad’s move up through the ranks has been swift by taking on jobs like the bombing in Italy last May.”
“Do we know the purpose of the new cell?” one of the agents asked.
“Unfortunately, we don’t know much. But we think he’s been put in charge of something that’s important.”
“Important? Just how important?” Ethan asked.
“Again, we don’t know. The NSA has been able to capture only a few of his cell phone communications, and the analysis indicates the Jammat al-Qadar are planning a big event. It’s our job to find out what it is and stop it.”
“What do we know?” another agent asked.
Kevin clicked the remote and another picture flashed up on the screen. “This is Mussad Abdullah. A known associate of Ziyad’s. He’s also known as Antonio Cimino, son of Vito Cimino, who lives in Florence. Mussad’s mother took him and returned to her homeland when he was three. He didn’t see his father for years.”
“So, we can assume his loyalties lie with his mother’s people?” Ethan asked.
“Exactly. Although recently he’s been visiting his father every few months, sometimes more often. The NSA has picked up several e-mail communications they believe originated from him.”
“What’s our objective?” one of the men asked.
Bolton closed his laptop. “We know that Ziyad makes regular trips to Italy. Mostly Florence and Rome. We don’t know what he does there, but we suspect he’s meeting with other terrorists. Possibly passing on information that they don’t want to trust to e-mail or phones. All of you are involved in, or supervising, missions that put agents in Italy. For the time being, we want everyone to watch for Ziyad. If he’s spotted, we want as much intel as possible on what he’s doing there, who he’s meeting with.”