The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) (7 page)

“That’s horrible!” Sarah said with an unrestrained smile.

“I know. And we almost got away with it too,” Adam said. “We got back and told them our version of what happened. Mom immediately believed us and was just happy her boys were safe. Dad, on the other hand, knew better. Initially he couldn’t prove anything, but he also couldn’t find a Frontage Lake anywhere, despite what we assured him. I don’t know why we didn’t just use a real trail or lake. Anyway, a few weeks later, when we thought it was all over, he came up with the perfect idea to find out the truth.”

“What did he do?”

“He sat us down in different rooms and asked us separately which tire was it that blew. Even if I had guessed the same tire as Joe, my red face and hesitation was all Dad needed to know. And apparently Joe was no more convincing than I was. We spilled it all and I thought he was going to kill us. But the funniest thing was that Dad never told Mom. He simply made us pay for the damages and show him this legendary fishing lake.”

“So are you telling me that every time you, Joe, or your dad went to work up at the Frontage Lake camp, you really went fishing?”

Adam held up his hands as though to surrender to his wife.

“And the best part is that Dad must have told Mom a dozen times since then that he was heading out for the weekend to maintain the Frontage Lake camp!”

Sarah burst out laughing and Adam couldn’t help but do the same. He laughed so hard he even began to cry. For the first time in weeks, the tears that came were not rooted in sorrow or depression. They were tears of joy. He wiped his eyes as their laughter slowly subsided, though the occasional chuckle broke through.

She had done it. Sarah had forced him to dig deep and pry out a much-needed bittersweet memory of Joe.

“Your turn,” he said, not wanting to leave that new, intoxicating happiness he felt. “Tell me something you remember about Joe.”

Sarah’s laughter had died down but her delightful smile still remained. She sat there, staring at Adam as though she hadn’t seen him in weeks. Perhaps she hadn’t. Perhaps a hint of the old Adam had broken though his thick, melancholy walls. Whatever she had done, he wasn’t ready for the feeling to vanish quite yet.

“Why don’t I talk about you,” she said.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Adam Reinhart. My husband whom I have dearly missed,” she said as she took a sip of coffee before leaning back into her leather chair. “Did I ever tell you when I first knew you were the one?”

Adam shook his head in silence.

“We had been dating exactly three months. You had been sick for a couple days, but you didn’t want to miss our three-month anniversary, no matter how many times I told you that term ‘anniversary’ didn’t make any sense for a monthly event. You said we were going to take it easy and go out for dinner and a show. But as soon as our food arrived you asked for some to-go boxes. I remember thinking that you had something up your sleeve after all.”

Adam laughed. “I remember thinking that our waitress probably thought we were that awkward couple who fought on dates.”

Sarah laughed. “We took our food, drove up into the mountains and ate juicy ribs with the sunset as our backdrop. And then we danced beneath a shower of shooting stars.”

“I remember,” he said. “I remember it well.”

              The doorbell rang from the front of the house. Adam began to get up, but Sarah rose and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s when I knew, Adam. I knew you were the one.” She leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Let me go answer it. I want you to stay here and think about the man you were. The man you are. Remember, you are the man I danced with below the heavens and you are the man I gave my heart to long ago. Remember those stars, and know that I’ll love you forever and ever.”

She left the room, leaving Adam to sit there quietly and think about their conversation. He wanted more. He wanted to remember the good about his brother. He wanted to be the man he had been before the tragedy. She was right and he knew it. Joe was gone and nothing he could do would bring him back. It was now up to them to honor Joe by keeping his memory alive and well. Maybe, with enough love, he would remember he still had something to be thankful for this year.

Adam looked up and saw Sarah standing in the living room doorway with tears in her blue eyes. Tears he could easily tell were not of the joy or euphoric laughter from before. In one hand she held an opened envelope and a letter. The other hand shook as she held it over her mouth.

“Adam,” she said, “it’s from Joe.”

Adam leapt from his chair and ran to Sarah. He took the letter and looked at the envelope. It had Sarah’s name written on the outside but had been sent to his parents’ home there in Durango. The postmark dated the letter the morning after his death. Strangely, it bore the stamps of many different countries. It had been sent to a South African address first and then forwarded to five different addresses in four different countries with no return address on it. Adam looked at the bottom of the short letter. All it said was ‘Jo’, his usual, first name-only signature. It was definitely from him and whatever was inside, he had gone to great lengths to make sure no one would notice or stop it on its long journey to Adam.

Adam looked at his wife. “Sarah. . . .” he began with no idea what to say next.

“I’m here for you, Adam,” she said. “I’m here.”             

Adam walked over to one of the brown recliners with the letter in hand. He sat down, took a deep breath, and began to read those heart wrenching words from beyond.

Adam,

My hope is that I can be there with you when you get this letter and that I’m wrong about everything I have discovered over the past few years. If not, then you and I both know what that means. I cannot fathom how hard my death must be for you. If there is one thing I have come to learn recently it is that life is never what you think it is. Without God, it can seem to be nothing but a cruel and unfair joke. Adam, I hope you learn to pray again. I know you claim to have lost touch with God years ago, but you must fight for your faith and do not lose whatever belief you still have because of my death. It will be the only thing that will get you through what I fear is about to happen. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if you had been murdered. I do know, however, that I would do everything I could to find those responsible and bring them to justice. And I’m not talking about whoever pulled the trigger. I’m talking about those behind the triggerman. I’m talking about those who want to destroy this nation and remake the world as they see fit.

I’m talking about Lukas Chambers.

DO NOT trust the president. He is the world’s most dangerous lie. That man deserves nothing more than the business end of a traitor’s noose. He has been planning something terrible for America. Something he has somehow concealed from us all. I began searching for the answers three years ago when I first had my suspicions, and yesterday I finally caught a glimpse of the truth. Just a glimpse is all it took for me to know that he is not who he says he is and the United States is in serious danger because of it. That was yesterday, and now, I’m running for my life.

Shortly after I first had my doubts, I set up P.O. boxes around the world, each with a forwarding address in case I ever needed to get something to someone without anyone being able to track it. Call me paranoid, but when you’ve witnessed that debacle with the NSA as a young man, you take extra steps to protect yourself later on in life if you think anyone might come looking. I know they’ll be watching my every step, but even they can’t know all the roads the truth may travel to make itself known. God I pray they cannot. But more important than my fear of being caught is my fear of what will happen if the truth doesn’t get out. This is our fault. All of us. We all allowed the birth of this police state in this so-called free land of ours as we sat back and did nothing. I now fear our ways of safety will become the very methods they use to destroy us.

I wish I knew more, but I will tell you what I can. I’m afraid I don’t know half of what he is planning, but if I’m dead when you get this letter, know that he is the reason for it and that he’s not going to stop with me. If he could turn on me—a so-called ‘good friend’ of his—without a hesitation, then I truly wonder how many people he is willing to sacrifice.

If you hear of or have heard of anything to do with firearms, medications, a drone army, or food supplies then you have to dig deep, find out what’s really going on behind the scenes, and above all, stop it. Find a reason because it is leading to something Lukas mentioned called ‘the Purge.’ I don’t know what it is other than he and his wife laughed about it while he envisioned an America bathed in flames.

Adam, you must do everything you can to oppose whatever it is he is about to do. And be quiet about it! You have to find out the truth and fight back. I wanted to tell you about this long ago, but I myself didn’t know the full truth and I was too worried about dragging you into something this dangerous. But it’s up to you now. You must continue the fight. But for your own sake and those around you do as I did—you must not let him or anyone else suspect a thing. No one can know what you know. Not yet at least. You first have to find friends you trust.

I’m giving this to the cab driver with all the cash I have in hopes he will send it for me. I pray it finds you. I pray for you and the nation. If I don’t make it, then I pray and ask that you make sure to take care of Amy for me. Make sure she doesn’t give up. Make sure she finds a good man when she is ready. Tell her to find joy and that I will see her again, this side of life or the other.

Jo’

The final page had a few hardened watermarks dotting its surface, likely the last tears his brother had shed. Adam shook his head in disbelief of everything he had just read. He had never particularly liked or disliked Lukas Chambers; he more so respected the man because of the office. But he couldn’t shake his brother’s claims and pleas either.
The world’s most dangerous lie.
It was almost too farfetched to be believed that the president, a man voted into office by the people of the greatest nation in the world, meant to destroy that very country he governed.

Why would Lukas even want to destroy America?

As the
why
of it all failed to reveal itself, one solid fact remained rooted like an unwavering oak in Adam’s mind. Adam had trusted Joe more than anyone else, other than his wife. For that reason alone, he knew the letter had to be true. The idea that the world’s most powerful man was representing a lie and using his authority to somehow kill Joe, murder hundreds, and destroy the nation caused a burning sense of primal rage to ignite deep within Adam.

Eventually, Adam looked over at his wife. She was staring back at him, waiting for him to speak. Joe was right that everyone who knew the truth could end up as a target of the president. But he couldn’t keep this from her. She already knew about the letter and there was no hiding his emotions. Adam handed her the letter without a word and stood up to pace around the room. As she read it, he could see the same fear on her that must have filled his face earlier. She placed her hand on her chest as her eyes scanned the pages and visibly fought back tears as she struggled with what she read. When she finished, she said nothing. Instead, she simply looked at Adam and embraced him with weak arms. The two of them stood there quietly, holding one another and crying softly. Adam didn’t want to let go. He wanted to cry in memory of his brother. But he couldn’t. Joe was right and there well could be no one else to continue the fight. After a few minutes, he released her.

“I need you to keep this to yourself,” Adam said. “No one else should know about this. Not Mom, not Dad. Not even Amy.”

Sarah stood back sniffling and nodded in agreement.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

What am I going to do?
Adam tried to think of what to do.
Firearms, medications, food supplies . . . a drone army!
He had no idea what any of it meant, but at least he had a place to start. He wondered how many eyes and ears the president had within the government.
He wondered if his brother had been alone or if others knew something of the president’s true nature.

If he can kill over three hundred and get away with it, what can’t he do to me or my family?
Questions and worry threatened him in those initial moments of uncertainty, but Adam refused to let it all do anything but solidify his new resolve. His life, his family, and his country now needed him more than ever.

“Adam,” his wife said, snapping him back to the present. “What are you going to do?”

He looked back at his wife, and with that passionate fire finally back in his eyes, he knew what had to be done.

“I’m going to find out the truth and stop that son of a bitch.”

C
hapter
F
our

A Noble Darkness

Lukas Chambers closed his eyes and let the cold rush of wind wash over him. The hair on his arms bristled in the mountain breeze, reminding him of his inauguration day one year prior. The evening was quiet apart from the soft hum of the six hawk-sized drones that hovered above him, protecting him with their ever-watchful eyes and deadly projectiles. Not that any unseen threat could attempt to end his life this deep into the Swiss Alps, but protocol called for their constant presence, and thus, they shadowed his every move.

Lukas’ company, H.C. Industries, had designed the drones years before Lukas had become president. In the beginning, they had been portrayed as a method to protect the leaders of the world from assassination and other threats. When the people of the world became comfortable with the guardians that followed the rich and powerful, America decided to adopt them for the public and passed the Federal Observation Drone Act of twenty-four. With that program, defense contractors began deploying surveillance drones as fast as they could print them; all of which, of course, followed the patents, guidelines, and software designed by Holt-Chambers Industries. Crime quickly plummeted, public safety improved, and people began to grow fond of their flying, bug-eyed friends. Although most people believed the drones were there solely to fulfill their motto ‘to observe and protect,’ Lukas and the Patriarchs knew their true purpose. The drones were meant to gently ease the population into an unconscious approval of the new police state that had been established. The FODs, as they came to be called, were autonomous and armed with electrically charged stun darts—save those that circled the president—and protected by digital walls of security so complex that they generated twelve random encryption codes every second of every day. They were the eyes and ears that would see what others could not and remain silent when others would not. Though the Secret Service drones that circled above were taught to act independently just like the drones that protected America, these particular FODs were linked to the president’s voice and obeyed whatever he commanded. The purr of their carbon-fiber blades cutting through the night reassured Lukas that he had few men and even fewer threats of which to be fearful. In fact, the only man who caused him to tremble was the very man currently on his way to the mountain retreat with the others.

Lukas opened his eyes and stared at the breathtaking sight before him. The gray and white mountains rose mightily above a sprawling valley of spinning fog. Curtains of reddish clouds concealed the setting sun, allowing the few stars that shined brightest in the sky above to begin their evening rule. As he watched the sun begin its bow to the encroaching darkness, he realized just how much each part of the grandeur before him fought for his complete and undivided attention. It made him think about the journey he had traveled and the man he had become because of that age-old battle for supremacy. He looked down at the fog and pictured it as the hazy realm of lower men frantically fighting one another in an effort to challenge the mountains that rose above them. The majority of those lesser men lived their entire lives simply to compete against greater men for the world’s attention before death and time inevitably eroded their memories. As it was and has always been with most people, they lived their humble lives unhappily, always wishing for something more but never knowing how to truly seize the day.

But Lukas Chambers, a man of fate, knew better.

In the end, when the sun had set on this generation and the new glorious world revealed itself, both the greatest and lowest of men who failed to give up their selfish ambitions would fade into the overpowering darkness. Lukas did not wish himself among the ordinary or even the monumental of men. His every action was carefully calculated so as to solidify himself as one of the bright stars above them all, shining through the twilight and ready to illuminate the world in her blackness. He and the others would give mankind the only light they would ever need to finally know a lasting world peace. He closed his eyes once more and hoped that the Patriarchs, those dangerous men and women approaching from below, would allow him to remain as a shining star beside them when nightfall dawned.

The glass door behind him slid open and then shut again, though he refrained from turning around to see who it was. It would either be Maria announcing the arrival of the others or John Fresnell coming to talk as he so often did. The distinct click of a wooden heel on an age-hardened deck announced the mystery guest as the latter.

“Fine evening,” John said.

“That it is,” Lukas said softly. “That it is.”

“I tell myself every time I visit this retreat of Jacob’s that I will do so on my own accord one day. No place I’ve ever been surpasses this view. But year after year goes by and I leave that wish to the passing of time.”

“Is that why you continue as the director of the Secret Service while knowing that the nation you protect will perish in the revolution?” Lukas asked without turning his eyes. “Has everything you’ve done been for some . . . vacation?”

“I want peace, Lukas. I want our new world to become something more than just a hopeful dream and I want to do whatever is needed to bring that about. But when it does happen, after the Purge, I mean to see that new world, find a woman or two, and live a very, very long and happy life.”

“I have many mountaintop mansions and I could not care less if I ever saw them again. My only care is fixing this godforsaken world.”

“Relax, Lukas,” John said. “With all due respect, you can be your own worst enemy sometimes. Your words today redeemed whatever mistakes the others might think you made. Like the world has already, the Patriarchs will receive them well.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Lukas said bitterly. “I thought it was over. They all said it was over back in September. Now, all I hear from Jacob as soon as we arrived here is that Rhys has Sigmund all riled up about uncertainties and everything moving forward before we are ready. But when has our destiny been anything but uncertain to the weak and fearful? Rhys has had vendetta against me ever since—”

“If you have been truthful,” Jacob Brekor spoke as he quietly approached the two men from the side, “which I believe you have, then you have nothing to worry about. You said our secrets died with Joe Reinhart and I, for one, believe you. And though—”

“Good. I can vouch for Lukas too,” John said eagerly.

“As I was saying,” Jacob began with an irritated glance at John, “though I may believe you, to have Joe’s very brother speak out against the treaty shortly after you announced the idea to America two months ago . . . well that does naturally call for questions.”

Lukas had first announced his planned law to the country back in late November when the people were still sensitive from the Dulles attack. Though the majority of the nation voiced their enthusiasm for the new weapons treaty, Adam Reinhart had spoken out against any international firearms law shortly afterward, claiming it was not what his late brother would have wanted. The congressman was the first American politician to oppose the president and one of the few that continued to campaign against it before its official proposal to the United Nations earlier that day. Despite the country’s sympathy for the congressman, Adam’s zeal had slowly begun to negatively affect his rising political career. In fact, he voiced his beliefs so strongly that he seemed to care little, if any, about the opinions of the people.

And it was that which troubled Lukas most.

While the congressman continued his campaign against the president’s historic treaty, Lukas couldn’t help but become uncomfortable with the man’s vocal crusade. He was perplexed as to why Joe’s brother would choose to fight this fight instead of rejoicing that something was being done. As the congressman persisted, worry nestled into the back of Lukas’ mind; that worry soon grew into a fear that his secrets did not die with the senator after all. It was an anxiety that kept him awake night after night, constantly going over Joe’s last few hours in search of evidence that Adam Reinhart somehow knew more than he should. Lukas, John, and the FBI agents that were loyal to the Patriarchs sifted through every email, phone conversation, text message, transmission, and anything else they thought could have been used to get a message out. In the end, he could not find anything to link Joe’s knowledge to Adam’s actions, so Lukas passed it off as an unnerving coincidence.

But that had not stopped Rhys from whispering rumors to Sigmund that Lukas had failed them once again.

“Adam Reinhart knows nothing,” Lukas finally said, more as a hopeful statement than as a fact. “And if he does, then he knows somewhat of who we really are and he would not dream of picking a fight with us alone.”

“Suppose he does know something,” Jacob said. “And suppose he is not alone? Then what?”

“Then perhaps the time has already come to silence yet another threat,” Lukas replied as he looked halfway at John.

Jacob laughed.

“Do you want me to think of you as a fool?” he asked. “This is not the hunt you want your dog here to be loosed upon, no matter how badly he wishes for you to throw the bloody stick.”

John grunted with resentment. Before Lukas or John could respond, the glass door opened behind them, followed by Maria’s announcement that the others had arrived.

“The time may come to eliminate others,” Jacob said. “But now is the time for you to save your own ass.”

As Jacob turned to walk inside, Lukas grabbed him firmly by the arm to stop him.

“History is penned by the victor, Jacob. We will be the victors. In the end, Joe Reinhart’s actions mean nothing. His brother means nothing. Any others who might whisper a hint of what we plan will mean nothing by the time we have finished. I swear to you that they will all fade into the night when we are done.”

Jacob pulled his arm away slowly before addressing Lukas with his own touch of anger.

“Careful, Mr. President that you do not overstep yourself. Tomorrow has not yet come and neither has victory. Only then will we have the privilege to swear in absolutes. Until then, and for the sake of all of us, tread lightly.”

Jacob turned and walked back inside, but John and Lukas remained behind for a minute longer. Lukas hated not being in control and he felt at that moment as though he were anything but. He looked up at John, his most trusted ally other than Maria, and flashed a halfhearted smile.

“Whatever happens,” Lukas said, “it is good to see that you still stand by my side.”

“I always have, Mr. President,” John said. “And I always will.”

The two men left the deck and walked into the mountain home. To call the retreat a ‘home’ would be a grave injustice. It was nothing short of a modern-day castle nestled in the rocky terrain. Inside, complete log beams wider than a man rose from the great room floor as though the house had been built around a grove of trees. Thirty feet above they spread their limbs wide into an intricate web of branches that flowed seamlessly into the ceiling. Imported stone and wooden luxuries filled the house, causing the room to fill with an aroma of extravagance, radiating from the exotic materials. An enormous circular table made with wrought iron and ebony sat in the middle of the room, enclosed by thirty-one high-back chairs. Bright light from the lamps and chandeliers filled the space with warmth and life. As Lukas entered, the drones silently filed inside and took up their stations above. John closed the door behind them and the row of windows at the back of the house quickly faded to a silvery gray, matching the other glass windows that surrounded the chateau. The windows were constructed from glass panels that could be electronically activated, causing the image of the outer world to reflect back at any curious spectators, granting the necessary privacy to those inside.

And whenever a secret Gathering was held amidst the world’s great agents of fate, privacy was of the utmost concern.

The double front doors opened, emitting the first of many Patriarchs. The owner of a Chinese shipping company, an Australian mining mogul, a genius and world-renowned Brazilian biomedical engineer, a Saudi oil sheik; thirty-one powerful and devoted individuals assembling together to forward their collective ambition. Rhys Howard walked in at the rear but remained waiting by the door. He shot Lukas a small and dangerous look, a threat that caused Lukas’ eye to twitch with irritation.

One day,
Lukas thought,
you will know your place below me.

Behind Rhys entered the final attendee for the night. He was a man in his mid-seventies, though he looked not a day over forty. The older man had a full head of hair, black as midnight apart from the streak of white above his temple, and he sported a neatly trimmed beard. He walked into the room slowly, under the careful observation of all. While the others were dressed in their best, this man wore a simple charcoal-gray scarf, a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, and a pair of dark blue jeans. As he thanked Rhys with a handshake, he gazed out on the others with an affectionate smile. He was of average height and looked no different than a man who might be enjoying an early retirement abroad. Nevertheless, when the man walked among his allies, there also followed a dark aura that demanded reverence, placing him far above the
average
man. And rightfully so. For Sigmund Dietrich was the last living forefather among the Patriarchs: their beloved and unforgiving leader.