The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) (5 page)

Lukas wiped away the few tears he could muster as he paused for effect. It was only the second time he had spoken publically about the death of his first wife, Sue Chambers. While most husbands would mourn the loss of a spouse, Lukas Chambers tried to limit the sorrow for her to the tears he was forced to spill publically. Though a few tears were acceptable, he believed leaders such as he should not openly weep . . . particularly over those they had gladly killed.

“The pain of losing a spouse to random gun violence is something I would not wish upon my worst enemy,” he lied. “It took me years to rebuild what had been destroyed with the pull of a trigger. There was actually a time when I wondered if I would ever love again. And then I met Maria Brekor. In the beginning, she helped me walk through the pangs of despair and learn to love again. Now, over a year since we’ve wed, she continues to reveal the healing power of love day after day. Be that as it may, I do not think I will ever completely shed the agony of Sue’s death. I say this not to diminish the memory of the wife I lost four and a half years ago, but as a testament to those of you here today who share in that agony. It will get better in time. I implore you to never forget their memory, but also to remember to live and love again.”

Lukas cleared his throat and paused before speaking with an all too convincing hint of sadness on his voice. “Friends, we are better than this. I pledge to you today that I will do everything I can to fix this problem, and I will not accept anything less than absolute victory. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness will reign freely again. As your president, you have my word that I will not rest until it is so. Thank you, and may God bless the United States of America.”

The crowd began to applaud again as Lukas descended from the stage. He approached the people who stood among the rows of white chairs, shaking their hands and embracing one teary eyed American after another. He even broke his inner creed once more and prayed with multiple families, including the mother of the two shooters. He was sure she would not have been so thankful for his kindness had she known she was embracing the very man who had used her sons in the last moments of their lives. In a way, Lukas almost found that amusing.

As he continued on with his heartfelt display of lies, he couldn’t help but silently bask in the victory he had achieved. Outwardly, the president portrayed himself as a devoted leader who could personally sympathize with the mourning. Inwardly, Lukas knew they were wrapped around his happy trigger finger. He had won the presidency almost a year prior. Now, he continued his secret crusade for a new world order to the harmonious and heartwarming praise from the very people he meant to change
.

Cheer,
Lukas thought,
and embrace your chains, America.

When the crowd had begun to disperse, the president left the Lincoln Memorial, ringed by his Secret Service agents and their watchful drones, and walked toward his nearby motorcade. He gave one last wave for any media still focused on him and entered the back of the limousine with a triumphant smile. As the car door shut and the vehicle began to move, the woman sitting across from Lukas spoke.

“I must say, you have a way with words, my love,” the woman said in an elegant English accent as she stared seductively at Lukas. “My father will be proud.”

Sitting opposite of Lukas was an unfairly gorgeous woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a revealing black dress. She sat back in her seat with her legs crossed before her and a slender arm stretched out along the backside of the leather bench. She tilted her head slightly to the floor, causing the interior light to cast long shadows across the silky skin of her smooth cheeks. Her glistening dark brown eyes appeared black as they gazed from under the brim of her wide sun hat, digging deep into Lukas’ soul. Only a handful of people had ever been able to manipulate his emotions with a simple stare; Maria Brekor, the woman who had seized his heart and compelled him to covertly arrange the timely death of Sue Chambers years ago, was among the best.

Lukas smiled back at his wife fondly. “I do not think your father or the others will be proud until golden crowns adorn our heads. I hope they do not think poorly of what had to be done. Besides, words are meaningless unless we can use them to our advantage. So tell me, do you think the people will fall for it?”

The woman smiled back and lowered her arm, looking down at her black-gloved hands and staring at her covered palms as though she was more concerned about the stitched lace than the question that hung in the air. It was what she did when she was lost in thought and was one of the many things Lukas loved about her.

After a moment’s pause, she spoke.             

“I think the American people are emotional and open to change. They believe you empathize with them, now more than ever. You now have their hearts, and thus, you have their loyalty. People like that will believe whatever you tell them, no matter how intricate the lie may be.”

Lukas laughed. “Maria, it is not a complex lie we weave. It is a simple lie. Those before us have tried to complicate things and they all failed miserably. If we succeed—”

“When,” Maria said quickly.

“Pardon,
when
we succeed, it will be because we kept the lie simple. It will be a whisper day after day to convince them that they are not safe. And as the whisper becomes a rumor that is then accepted as truth, they will plead for protection; a sense of security that only we can provide once we have remade the world. Until then, we must remain vigilant. Speaking of which, you should really make more of an effort to show yourself with me. The people will trust you far more if you make them believe you are one of them now.”

After a pause, Maria let out a sudden joyful laugh and then leaned forward to kiss Lukas. He knew the public had loved and trusted her since before they were married. She had helped mend their beloved American icon’s heart after the tragic death of Sue Chambers. Sue had been an essential stepping stone to advance his career. In the end, she had been removed when she threatened to topple Lukas’ political career. The paparazzi had first spotted Lukas and Maria together eighteen months after Sue’s murder. The gossip-hungry people of the world chose, or so they believed it was their own choosing, to follow their love journey. Their engagement had come as a surprise when he was governor of Virginia, but their wedding had come as a celebration during a heated Republican primary, giving him the edge he needed to win. Maria had stood beside him as he campaigned for the presidency and rejoiced when he won in the largest landslide since Nixon. The world did not care of their nine-year age difference and neither did Lukas or Maria. The Patriarchs had solved the problem of age years ago, and Lukas, along with his brothers and sisters of fate, would live many ageless eons in the new world. But Maria was something more than political gain or a powerful bond formed because of her father’s influence in Europe.

With Maria Brekor, it was actually love.

“You are right, my love,” Maria said. “You know how I hate funerals, but you are right. I do apologize.”

The presidential motorcade arrived at the airport and pulled up to the tarmac where Air Force One waited. Lukas and the first lady left the car, waving once more for the cameras, and then boarding the plane together. They shook hands and greeted the cabinet members already aboard the plane before walking to his airborne office. Lukas opened the door and immediately turned the lights off, anticipating some much needed privacy with Maria. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, their smiles and subtle laughter quickly vanished, and Lukas’ right eye began to twitch.

“I am beginning to think I may need to upgrade my security,” Lukas said as he flipped on the lights and revealed the three men sitting in front of his desk. “It seems anyone can board my plane these days.”

“Don’t stop because of us,” one of the men said in a very patronizing manner. “We can spare ten seconds or so.”

Lukas’ right eye began to spasm even more. It was his tell. Ever since the ambush, which had been both terrifying and liberating, his right eye would quiver whenever his nerves got the best of him. Every time he felt uneasy and anxious it reminded him of the lies he lived, causing a brief sense of shame as the good and tender voice of his youth would surface, cursing the man he had slowly become. Nevertheless, he hardened his heart and refused to let the pleading voice take its hold.

“Screw you, Rhys,” Lukas said to the only ally he outwardly despised. “Do not believe that just because you have . . . graced us with your presence for two years now that you can belittle me,
your
president.”

The three men sat in the room motionless as the plane engines outside roared to life. Rhys, the man who had spoken, was a handsome blonde in his early forties that clearly delighted in Lukas’ reaction. To Rhys’ right was an overly serious Asian man, sitting quietly with an air of ferocity about him. The final man, a slightly graying Englishman, reclined back with his legs crossed as though he had not a care in the world.

Maria looked at the men blankly before walking over to the liquor cabinet with a little extra sway in her hips.

“There, there boys,” Maria said, as Lukas took his seat behind the desk. “No need for insults among friends. Remember, we are all and one in league together.” She poured three glasses of scotch and handed one to Lukas and another to the older Englishman. She sat down on Lukas’ lap and smiled disdainfully at the blonde man as she took a sip from the last glass.

“Is that so? Are we tolerable as friends but not acceptable enough for a drink?” Rhys asked before letting out a soft laugh. “I see your bitch of a daughter hasn’t changed much, Jacob.”

“Show a little respect for my daughter and our host,” the Englishman said. “I will not have you or anyone disrespecting another Patriarch. Destiny calls for our unwavering cooperation. We are supposed to be allies, and we will never know victory unless we act as such.”

“Thank you, Father,” Maria said with her own victorious smile. “I believe our friend is just jealous that Lukas owns what he may never have.”

“Are you a trinket, Maria, for people to pass around?” Jacob asked. “It’s time for you to show that same respect to yourself and others. So please, be the kind girl I raised you to be and get up and pour them a bloody drink.”

As Jacob spoke, Maria’s smile disappeared. When he had finished, she rose and walked back to the liquor cabinet. As she began to pour two more glasses, Lukas broke the silence.

“Would someone care to inform me why you are here?”

“We are here for the truth,” the Asian man responded. “What happened last week?”

“Luck happened,” Lukas replied. “I saw an opportunity and seized it. And because of that, we can begin Stage Two.”

“The plan was to wait until world was more . . . seasoned,” the Asian man said.

“Destiny waits for no man,” Lukas said.

“Enough of that destiny crap,” Rhys said. “We all know this was about the senator. You’ve been after him since the two of you ran against each other in the primaries, back before I—what was it you said—‘graced’ you with my company.” The man laughed. “We know this wasn’t random fate or whatever the hell you call it. So what really happened?”

“As I said, opportunity—”

Jacob finally broke his cool. “Damn it, Lukas, by the Oath! What did Joe Reinhart know?”

The Oath. It was a simple thread in the rope that bound them together as one. Every Patriarch knew in order to succeed in the end that some secrets, even between friends, must exist. It was what they had done for decades in order to deceive the world as they brought about the elusive Purge, which was for the first time all but in their grasp. However, should another member question one’s methods and loyalty to that end goal, then by the Oath, sworn by the Blood of the Creed, they must reveal their secrets to the others. It was one of two oaths that governed Lukas’ life and he had no intentions of breaking it.

Lukas leaned back and sipped his scotch before answering.

“Though he didn’t know details, he knew something about the food, drugs, and weapons. Both ex-Soviet and civilian.”

Shock replaced the Asian man’s calm composure as he jumped to his feet.

“You can’t be serious!”

“How?” Rhys demanded at the same time. “How the hell did he find out?”

“By my arrogance, I suppose,” Lukas said sarcastically. “But by my aptitude I used it to our advantage. As I said, destiny waits for no man. The attack and his death have provided us with a valuable window of opportunity, and by my care, none suspect foul play.”

“How do you know?” Rhys inquired. “How do you know you took care of everything? Damn it, Lukas! Did he know about the shipping companies? The drones? What about the medications—did he know?”

Lukas only shrugged.

“We can control the media, but I don’t know if I can protect us from . . . from something like this,” Rhys said.

“Rhys, settle down. You’ll give yourself a heart attack and me a cause for celebration,” Lukas said cheekily. “When you have been with us for longer than two years you will understand that fate is a god that works for us. We are destined to see this revolution take place and nothing can stop us. I assure you there are no problems. We had drones trail him from afar until his death and we monitored all his communications before he died. No one knows anything”