The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) (8 page)

Sigmund stopped short of the circular table and scanned the room with a slight grin as they waited for him to speak. His eyes rested on the president no longer than anyone else, but Lukas still found himself clenching his teeth and narrowing his eyes as the man’s stare passed over him. Sigmund always appeared gentle among both friends and strangers at first. However, those who knew his true character quickly learned to steel their nerves and harden their hearts if they desired to survive such a vicious and noble darkness.

Eventually, Sigmund tilted his head slightly upwards and spoke in a raspy voice.

“Formalities would have us recite our creed, swear the Oath, and then attend to recent events. However, I fear that we very well may be in the presence of a traitor to our cause. So forgive me, but I believe tonight may be a little . . . different.” He motioned for everyone to take his or her seat at the table. Lukas’ eye twitched rapidly and he silently cursed the sweat that began to bead on his forehead. Sigmund might as well have announced Lukas’ death sentence. The president eyed his hovering drones and wondered if they would strike down Sigmund by themselves or if he would need to cry out for their help. Though his thoughts endangered his outward composer as much as Sigmund’s threats did, Lukas forced himself to take a deep breath as he sat down with the others. He had chosen this way of life and he knew, as he always had, that it did not come without its moments of danger.

When everyone had taken their seats, Sigmund pulled a polished cylinder from his back pocket and casually began to circle the table.

“Our origins are not something we often speak of. I wonder if it be that we are too busy molding the world to our liking that we fail to pause and reflect on the journey behind us. My hope is that we are simply too focused on the future to care much about the past. But I do not believe that is the case. I feel that in our steadfast diligence we have failed to remember not just who we are, but why we are. So I’d like to begin the night’s exhilarating events by first looking back.

“In the mid-seventies, at the height of the Cold War, I came to know a man living in Soviet Russia named Henrik von Jaegar. You all know of Henrik as founder of the Patriarchs, but you know little else of him. He was a man devoted to peace when mankind was on the brink of mutual annihilation. Many before him had envisioned a world better than what it had become. As great as the potential mankind inherently possessed was, it remained plagued by the same evils century after century. Problems of war, hunger, poverty, sickness, and hatred for others reared their ugly heads in every nation and every generation. Some had tried to pinpoint the source of that taint before Henrik, but he was the first to discover the truth. He believed that the blame of so much hurt lay not with men themselves, but at the feet of the few tyrants that ruled the world. But it was not just the merciless dictators, presidents, and kings he saw at fault. The rich and powerful of even civilized men had long preyed on the weak and used the excuse of government as justification for their hateful actions. As a young and passionate man, Henrik gathered the first of us with the goal of saving mankind from itself.”

Sigmund continued to circle the table, glancing every now and then at a random member, causing them to shift or even flinch as he did so. Lukas was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one fighting the man’s rancorous and uncomfortable gaze.

“In the beginning, when our initial plans began to blossom, Henrik came to believe that the Patriarchs, though we existed for such a noble idea, could very well keep the disease alive with our own faults once we were finished. He thought the only way to remove the problem completely would be to rise to positions of power all around the globe before collapsing the entire system and plunging the world into anarchy. He thought that from the fires of complete lawlessness men would rise as equals. As well intentioned as Henrik’s beliefs were, he was also a fool to think that others would devote their lives to such a scheme. To create a new world we first needed great allies, and I knew those we converted would never give up their power. A few of us—our friend Jacob being one of them—saw that even if all men became equals after the madness, tyrants would rise again and resuscitate the ways of old. We understood that the world needed to be steered to the brink of chaos and then controlled like a wild stallion with our hands alone on the reins. Henrik refused to see it our way. I saw in my heart of hearts that he would remain problematic ‘til the end, and victory would never be achieved as long as he lived.”

Sigmund stopped his pacing for a moment, looking over at Lukas with both sorrow and hatred in his dark eyes, before continuing on.

“I sometimes regret the murders of those first allies of mine, but I did what was needed for the Purge; that day of days when we rid the world of the systems that have plagued it. We will ignite a fire that purges the ways of old and blazes a path for the new dawn of mankind. My friends, we will live to see a lasting peace. At least, most of us will.” Sigmund’s face contorted into a joyful smile as he let his words soak into those who watched him. “Now that we remember the path behind us, let us remember where we are going. Mr. Espinosa,” Sigmund motioned to the Italian man sitting three chairs to Lukas’ right, “would you kindly recite our creed?”

The Italian man spoke in an unwavering voice. “Live to light tomorrow, tomorrow to purge the way. By life we serve and follow, to bring order to the decay.”

“Ah yes, the Creed. That which defines us all.” As Sigmund rounded the table he stopped behind Lukas and rested his hands on the president’s shoulders. “Lukas Chambers, my beloved friend and the president of the United States. Though all of us here are great in our own ways, none before us have risen to such great heights as you. You have allowed us to further our goals and brought us nearer to the Purge than any other before us. Though we may all be equals here, we acknowledge your greatness. So tell me, Mr. President, if our cause is more worthy than any of the great lives we here live, what do you think the punishment for traitors to that cause should be?”

It was a question to which Lukas knew the answer, though he found trouble uttering the correct response when it was his neck resting on the chopping block. Nonetheless, Lukas had refused to be a man who lived in fear long ago so he calmed himself as best he could and spoke the answer Sigmund was waiting for.

“Death,” Lukas said with a coolness that surprised even him. “Nothing less will suffice.”

After a pause and a slight squeeze of Lukas’ shoulders, Sigmund began to walk again, causing the president to let loose the tiniest sigh of relief.

“Death,” Sigmund said amusingly as he looked back with a grin. He walked away from the president and neared the Italian man. “If death is to be the ultimate punishment for treason, then I would agree it is the only suitable punishment. But we must ask ourselves if there is something more we can offer than merely death. Something with a little more sting, I think.” He paused, looked down at the silver cylinder in his hand, and then glanced back to Lukas. “For example.”

Sigmund jabbed the shaft into the back of the Italian man’s neck. It let out a hiss of gasses as Mr. Espinosa let out a curse of his own.

“Merda!” The Italian man shouted as he rose quickly from his chair. “What was that?”

“The use of microscopic nanobots in our bionic drugs has always interested me since our Brazilian friend here first discovered it. It has allowed us to cure the incurable and begin to cheat age and time itself. It’s quite marvelous to think we may one day live forever because of our microscopic, robotic friends. But the idea of using that same technology to alter someone’s very perception of reality is what really fascinates me. Someone, perhaps, that I now see as an enemy. Or a traitor.”

“Sigmund, no,” the Italian man pleaded. “I said nothing!”

“Indeed,” Sigmund replied. “Years ago I became captivated with the idea of computer-generated medicine when I met our Brazilian friend here, Doctor Roe. Though the nations of the world quickly banned any such technology for fear of hacking and security issues, I encouraged him to push forward and unlock its full potential. In the past, even the greatest drugs did not lack the many unwanted side effects. With all of the code-based biomedical advances Doctor Roe has achieved over the past few years, we can now program in the desired effects to be experienced and then inject that synthetic code of serum into whomever we wish. Then, with the push of a button . . .” Sigmund flipped a cover on one end of the cylinder that had hidden a glowing blue button, “we can bring about all the pain or joy you would ever wish upon that person.”

He pressed the little blue button and the Italian man screamed.

Mr. Espinosa fell to his seat and clawed at his skin as his shrieks grew louder. The others shifted uneasily in their chairs as the man thrashed about in agony. Sigmund, however, casually stepped back, handed his scarf to one of his bodyguards, and unsheathed a long knife from behind his white shirt.

“I, for one, love this newest creation,” Sigmund said as though he was speaking casually at a college lecture. “It’s a blend of psychological stimulants such as Methamphetamine, synthetic neurotoxins, and an assortment of other digital drugs. They combine to form what I amusingly call the ‘lake of fire.’ When activated, it causes the mind to drastically slow the perception of time and experience the senses on a heightened level. From what we gather, it should almost be as though they bathe in fire for hours when only seconds have gone by. I assume it is quite the unforgettable experience. Wouldn’t you agree, my old friend?”

Sigmund’s final words to the Italian man were more of a snarl than a question. He raised his knife with a deadly pleasure in his eyes and began stabbing at the screaming man. The man fell to the floor with a series of screams and grunts. Blood splattered Sigmund and the costly rug underneath the two. It took only moments for the man to stop his horrific cries. Even without Sigmund Dietrich’s terrifying new creation running through the president’s veins, time seemed to slow for the Lukas. He stared at the dying man as his body convulsed one more time. Eventually, Lukas tore his eyes away and looked around the table. Some still held shocked expressions upon their faces, while others tried to mask their horror behind a false composure. Lukas knew it was no time to lessen his dignity if he were to avoid joining his brother in death. He smoothed his hair and sat back, waiting for Sigmund to speak. His eye, however, continued to twitch.

A few more moments passed before the vicious glare disappeared from Sigmund’s face. He wiped the blade on the dead man’s ornate coat and stood. Blood covered his white shirt and face, giving him more the look of the devil than of a man. Lukas, for one, could almost believe he was.

“Death . . . and a little more sting,” Sigmund said as his affectionate smile returned. “I recently heard from an ally of mine that Mr. Espinosa had given up his faith in our cause for a faith in something else. His church. Such foolhardy views would normally be addressed in a much more subtle way, but as it turns out a faith in his church included a confession to a great friend of mine. A confession of all we plan to do. Foolish of him to think he was alone where I had placed him. Many of you, too, I gather, may think you live every day and plan your every move behind closed doors. But if our friend’s death is to be of any lesson to you all, then let it serve as a testimony to the fact that I know everything you do. I know everything you say and should you choose to betray this all-important undertaking of ours with your ignorance. . . .” He turned to Lukas, speaking directly at him. “Then know that death will be the least of your worries. Now please,” he motioned to the bodyguards nearby, “remove this filth before I become really upset.”

“I think I speak for everyone that such a punishment is indeed appropriate,” Jacob said coolly. “May we find better ways to discipline those who wish us harm.”

“Speaking of those who may harm us,” Sigmund said, “am I really supposed to believe that Joe Reinhart’s secrets actually died with him, Lukas?”

Lukas casually leaned back in his chair as though he were indifferent to the question. He knew that in order to hold any amount of respect with Sigmund and the others, he first needed to preserve his own aura of authority.

“The question I think we should really be wondering is why we continue to waste time with worthless banter when the truth remains the same. We have reviewed every angle of his final moments and have found nothing that would reveal us. Period! But if this keeps you up at night, then I propose that we eliminate Adam Reinhart immediately.”

“We will do no such thing,” Sigmund said. “And neither will you. You are to authorize no similar attacks, murders, or assassinations without our consent. You threaten us all with your carelessness and I will have no more of it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Lukas said.             

“You walk a fine line, my old friend. Should you ever share our secrets, by accident or not, with any who have not sworn by the blood of the creed then you will share in Mr. Espinosa’s fate. Hear me, Lukas, and know my words as fact.”

Lukas nodded slightly in agreement.

“Well then,” Sigmund said. “Five years. Five years we wait until the Purge. What is the status on control?”

Doctor Roe was the first to speak.

“As you all can tell from a moment ago,” he said it as though witnessing the brutal murder had not fazed him, though Lukas had watched the man almost lose his dinner, “the Nano-bionic treatments are advancing far beyond what we initially hoped. We now have the ability to not only activate a serum from anywhere in the world, but we can also change that serum after it has been injected. I know it’s hard to believe, but the recent breakthroughs we’ve had have given us the ability to control people from virtually anywhere. We have begun to covertly slip in the coded nanobots with other biological and synthetic drugs at a few of the larger pharmaceutical manufacturers that we own around the world. In five years’ time, we will have over three-fourths of the developed world’s population infected with digital drugs that we can change to whatever we want.”