Assembly Command and Control Facility
Unknown Location
“The major news networks have picked up our stories on people getting sick from drinking the water in New York City.”
Number Four turned to his senior controller, his liaison between the dozens of staff controlling the operation and himself, handing him a tablet. He took it and smiled. “In their rush to not be scooped by their competition, they’re reporting first, vetting second.”
“Yes, sir. It’s exactly what happened on 9/11.”
“Precisely, and that was before Facebook or any other modern form of social media had taken control.” He shook his head, his smile spreading. “Ten years ago this wouldn’t have worked. But today it’s almost too easy. Everything is so integrated, and with everyone on tight budgets, known security vulnerabilities are left unpatched. And the people don’t trust their media or government, so they’re willing to get their information from anyone.”
“Including us.”
Number Four’s head bobbed. “Including us.” He spun on his heel, heading for the door. “Keep me informed. I’m going to bring the Council up to date.”
“Yes, sir.”
Number Four left the buzz of the control center filling most of this level of the complex, and headed for his office. He sent a secure email updating the council, then debated returning to monitor things. He was exhausted. Would a few minutes to himself really hurt? And who would know?
He headed for the elevator and hit the button. It chimed almost immediately, the doors opening. He hit B-3 and pressed into the corner, closing his burning eyes. Moments later, he was at his destination—the VIP residential area, the entire level reserved for him and visiting dignitaries—Council member representatives. Today, only he and domestic staff were here.
“Can I get you anything, sir?”
He nodded at the busty blonde he had chosen to serve him. In more ways than one. There were advantages to absolute power, and he indulged himself at every opportunity. He had been a member of the Assembly Council for almost two decades now, the trappings of money and inherited power something he thought he had understood before he was approached all those years ago to join this ancient organization his father had been a member of.
When his father had died, the truth had been revealed, and he had been given a choice. Replace him. There really hadn’t been a choice, in fact. The option had been presented to him, the responsibilities explained, and there never really was any doubt he’d accept. Now he realized if he hadn’t, he’d probably have been killed immediately, since he would have known too much.
But he hadn’t hesitated.
He had grown up with wealth and power, thanks to his father. If these people were the source of all that, he wanted it. But with the shackles of modern morality and laws removed, he finally experienced real power. If you never worried about being arrested, never worried about being judged, you could fulfill all the desires the deepest recesses of the mind could conjure.
He had committed every manner of pleasure and depravity to every manner of person on the planet. And they had enjoyed it if that was what he had demanded, or begged for mercy, if that was his desire of the moment. He had killed, he had tortured, he had raped. He had saved lives, rescued the innocent, and made tender love to women he truly felt for. He had done it all, living at the fringes, at the extremes, little demanded over the years beyond the occasional action, such as the current operation.
Starting as Number Twelve all those years ago, with each advancement, he had learned more, though even now he wondered how much he actually knew.
They were ancient.
How ancient, he wasn’t sure if even Number One knew, yet he knew it was many generations. They had been involved in countless human conflicts, manipulating things in the background, relishing in wars that were significant enough to advance mankind technologically. Under his term, they had manipulated several Middle-Eastern conflicts, and even had their fingers in the current Korean, Syrian, and South China Seas hotspots.
Though what they were doing today would overshadow anything that had come before. It would trigger the ultimate conflict, one that would eventually solve many of today’s problems, and force the advancement of mankind beyond its current stagnation. Competition fueled ingenuity.
During the Cold War, the United States and Soviet Union had fought to outdo each other, whether in nuclear weapons or fighter jets, or rocketry and computers. The Space Race had spurred technological innovation that still resonated today, yet that spirit of competition was nearly dead.
Instead, it had been replaced with cooperation and profiteering. Countries no longer dreamed big, and corporations instead focused on shareholder returns, rather than innovation.
But recreate the Cold War, and the competition would return. Already, their efforts were paying off. Russia was the enemy again, modernizing their military and developing new weapons capabilities that were forcing everyone from the United States to the Chinese, Japanese, and Indians, to respond. It was an arms race that now had more than two participants, with inconsequential countries like North Korea and Pakistan now nuclear powers, the Japanese debating tossing aside decades of passivity, and the Chinese asserting control over the territorial waters of sovereign nations that had once been their allies.
It was the perfect storm, nurtured by those like him, waiting for one final match to be tossed on the kindling of decades of subtle manipulation.
A match he was responsible for.
“Sir?”
He shook his head, realizing he had been standing in the hallway, staring at the dessert he had brought with him. “Ice cold Diet Coke, glass of skim milk, and two Boston Cream donuts.”
She smiled. “So your usual.”
He grunted. “Yes.”
She squeezed her chest together slightly. “Will you be following your dessert with…dessert?”
He stared, a stirring below, then shook his head. “Maybe later.”
She almost looked disappointed. She, he treated with tenderness. There was something about her that he liked beyond the sexual. He had never hit her, never treated her with anything beyond respect—or at least the level of respect one could have for someone you could order to pleasure you at the drop of a hat.
He headed for his quarters, feeling reinvigorated, a spring returning to his step that had him checking his watch.
Perhaps a little dessert?
He smiled.
Dessert while eating dessert.
It was settled.
He swiped his pass, the door to his quarters unlocking with a beep, and he stepped inside, still marveling at what unlimited funds could buy. The windows wrapped around two sides of the living area, yet the view they provided were actually projected images that he could select depending on the mood he was in. Whether that was a lodge in the Serengeti, or the view from a hundred-story penthouse, it was hyper-realistic.
The current view, looking down upon the minions of New York City, was one of his favorites. Central Park to the right, skyscrapers dwarfed by his to the left. He sighed as he loosened his top button and stepped into the bathroom. Splashing water on his face, he stared into the mirror. He was showing his age. Just a hint. Most would look at him and guess he was in his early forties as opposed to late fifties, the hormone therapies available to the super-rich working wonders. Yet he still felt weary at times, more mentally than physically.
Never more so than now.
Thousands were dying, and millions would ultimately die before this was over. He might even die, though he doubted it. Not here, buried underground in the middle of nowhere. He and those lucky enough to be inside, would live through whatever horrors the world brought upon itself. And in the end, it would be people like him that would lead the brave new world, steering mankind back to the path of greatness it had let slip away over the past generation.
He sat on the leather couch, the overstuffed cushions enveloping him like a tender embrace. He smiled, closing his eyes. There was a knock. “Come.”
The door opened, and his dessert entered on a tray and in high heels. “Change of plans, darling.”
She smiled. “I had a feeling.”
I think she really likes me.
He drew a deep breath as things were daintily removed.
She’s paid to like you, and you’re an old fool if you think it’s anything more.
Yet did it really matter? If she were putting on a show for his benefit, then so be it. It was the illusion he was paying for, and she was living a far better life than she would have been on the streets of Prague where he had found her. They both got something out of this relationship, though to call it consensual, would be pushing it.
I wonder if she knows she can never leave alive.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, spreading his legs apart. He leaned past her and grabbed the glass of milk and one of the donuts. “Darlin’, you’re too good to me.”
She unzipped his fly. “It’s about to get even better, Mr. Croft.”
He took a bite of his donut and leaned back, closing his eyes as he savored each chew. He groaned.
The Assembly is eternal.