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IT HAD BEEN only two hours since they arrived in Washington, D.C. and they were already sitting on a comfortable sofa in the Oval Office. Under any other circumstances, he would have been impressed, but not this time. A billionaire, a prominent member of the Order of the Black Rose from Italy, had provided the private jet that carried them to Washington, D.C. As a member of the Order, Eric had quite often had access to luxuries of that kind, and although he appreciated the joy of driving fast cars and travelling comfortably on private jets or luxury yachts, he sometimes wished his life was simpler.
Eric’s gaze focused on the portrait of George Washington that hung over the mantel at the north end of the Oval Office. The voices of people talking tentatively around him echoed like buzzing bees over his head. And one thought was digging into his mind. Floriana is in danger. She was in danger, and he was pushed into this room without the authority to act the way he knew best and save her. All they’d done since they arrived in Washington was talk. And talk. And more talk. They had lost valuable time in discussions over what the Order of the Black Rose was, who Dr. Duclan Davis really was, what the secret society he was working with was, but no one cared about Floriana. Expect for him. Okay, I’m exaggerating. I’m not the only one who cares about her, he thought.
He knew how much the Master loved his granddaughter. And how much he trusted his grandson. “I’m sure Floriana will be fine. Vittor would never let anything bad happen to her,” the Master had tried to comfort him, but Eric could see that his mentor’s eyes were clouded by worry. However, they both knew that, despite their anxiety about Floriana and Vittor, they had a world-threatening disease to fight.
“Are you saying a secret society that praises Aryan Supremacy has been living freely on American soil since the end of World War Two? And you want me to take you seriously? Director Adams, how dare you bring these people to me!” President Gabriela Maria Alvarez’s shouts took Eric out of his thoughts and brought him back to reality.
“I’m afraid they are right, Madame President,” replied Michael Adams, the National Security Agency director and longtime friend of Norchelle’s who was sitting beside her on the yellow-cream couch. It was with his help that the Order’s representatives had managed to arrange a meeting with the President in the middle of a red-alert situation. Michael had met Norchelle long before he was appointed NSA director, and he was fully aware of the Order’s existence and practices. His longtime friendship with Norchelle had proven beneficial for both organizations. The Washington Rose had been granted the discreet liberty of working underground to serve its cause, while Director Adams benefited from the information the Rose’s undercover agents gathered without getting his hands dirty. They had been working to closely monitor the Empire’s movements over the past few months, and the fact that they had not managed to prevent this attack made this urgent meeting with the President unavoidable. However, President Alvarez’s reaction was unexpected.
“If they are right, then you are incompetent, Director Adams. And now, please leave,” she demanded as she stood up from her black leather desk chair.
“With all due respect, Ma’am, we are not going anywhere. This meeting isn’t over yet,” Norchelle declared as she remained seated.
“Excuse me? Who do you think you are? I'm calling the guards right now,” said President Alvarez, her voice shaking in surprise at the unexpected disobedience.
“I'm no one, Ma’am. And you are the President of the United States. And you can have the guards throw us out of your office anytime. But you won’t do that. Because that will bring about the end of your tenure and your political career.”
Norchelle stood up slowly and approached President Alvarez, who clenched her fists defensively. “I have always been loyal to my president, Ma’am, and I always will be. I have taken an oath to serve my country and give my life to protect it. I'm not a soldier of the US Army, but I am a member of the Order of the Black Rose, as my father was before me, and his father, and my great-great-grandfather. My ancestors joined the forces of the Order as soon as they earned their freedom in order to fight injustice and stop evil forces from bringing chaos to peoples’ lives. I wear this black agate ring with pride, and it's the oath I have given to it that makes me stand here in front of you and say, ‘Please stop talking and listen.’ Madam President, you are in danger. Your Chief of Staff, your Secretary of Health, and CIA Director, they all work for the Empire.”
Norchelle took a deep breath, trying to make her hands stop shaking. Ganni and Etoc threw her approving glances while Toby tried to suppress a smile of satisfaction.
“Um, well,” the President added after she cleared her throat of the lump Norchelle's speech had caused. “Ms. Williams, ... um...what's your first name?”
“Norchelle, Ma’am.”
“Norchelle. Beautiful name. May I call you Norchelle?” President Alvarez added as she smoothed her burgundy two-piece suit.
“Of course, Ma’am.”
“Well, Norchelle, what on earth is going on?”
“Madame President, I would recommend you be seated. It's quite a long story.”
After President Alvarez took her place behind the Resolute desk, Norchelle turned to Ganni.
“Grand Master, would you like to take over from here? You are more familiar than me with the events that followed the end of World War Two,” Norchelle proposed.
“With pleasure,” Ganni said as he moved at the edge of his seat on the yellow-cream couch. “Madame President, I hope you’ll allow me to stay seated. I'm old enough to remember those dreadful events.”
With a gentle gesture, Alvarez expressed her approval.
“All actually started before the Allies defeated Nazi Germany. I was a young aspiring scientist working for a Nazi laboratory in Berlin under the supervision of a well-known alchemist of the era, Dr. Foulkaneli. Madame President, don't be alarmed,” he said as he noticed Alvarez becoming uneasy. “I was a German citizen, and I was obliged to serve my country. Foulkaneli was a great mind, but his brightness reached the edges of insanity. The creation of a super soldier was our main goal, and we would probably have succeeded if we had more time. After the war ended, Foulkaneli disappeared from the face of the earth, along with his notes about some of our incredible experiments on biological weapons, treatments for serious diseases, even DNA manipulation.”
“Was Foulkaneli ever seen again?”
Norchelle exchanged glances with the Grand Master, and after she received his approval, she took the floor.
“He was considered dead until one of our agents snuck into a secret society that was founded in Virginia by former Nazis that fled Germany when Allies invaded Berlin. They built houses and shops, and they called their new city Millville. They have remained faithful to Nazi beliefs and the German way of life. They eat sausages, drink beer, even annually celebrate Oktoberfest. They have named streets Adolf Hitler Street, Goebbels Street, and Goering Street. They parade along these streets wearing SS stormtrooper uniforms. They have hedges trimmed into swastikas. They have blocked the entrance to their town to anyone non-Aryan. There, in the forests of the Blue Ridge Mountains, they live as if Hitler didn't lose the war, despite the fact that they are all American citizens. They live life in secrecy and under the radar, as no one not of German origin has ever been allowed to rent or buy property in Millville. Now you may understand why it took us so long to break through the barriers of their secrecy. It's obvious I would have difficulty passing as an Aryan.” Norchelle broke into a smile for the first time since she’d crossed the White House doorstep. Feeling more confident, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“As the time passed, their security measures have loosened. As the years passed, they’ve started feeling more comfortable sharing their views with other fascist organizations. Luckily for us, they looked for a genetic engineer outside their town walls.” Norchelle resumed her narration. “That was the opportunity we had been waiting for. Our scientist-agent, Dr. Duclan Davis, volunteered to go undercover, and in a short time, he managed to win the trust of the chief scientist of their laboratory. Guess who that scientist is. Yes, Dr. Foulkaneli is very much alive and continues to conduct the atrocious experiments he started in Nazi Germany.”
“And he has my daughter-in-law, whom we thought to be dead for years, working for him,” the Grand Master said.
“Director Adams, are you sure these people aren’t playing a prank on me? A secret Nazi town on American soil? How could this be possible? Why hasn’t anyone ever taken notice of them and shut them down?” President Alvarez gasped with surprise and disbelief.
“They’re serious, Ma'am. Millville has been known to us, but they never gave us reason to shut them down. They have always been extremely cautious, and they never broke any federal laws.”
“And why have I never been informed of their existence?” she asked.
“You should ask your CIA Director, Ma'am. The NSA is only responsible for signals intelligence and U.S. communications networks protection.” Director Adams smirked.
“This is what monitoring and collecting private information and data is now called. Yes, I’m aware of that.” President Alvarez puffed out a breath, exhausted.
“And here is where your presidency comes in.” Director Adams stood up and stepped towards the president’s desk. “Alfred Roetter, Anni Sauer and Harold Schaefer: your White House Chief of Staff, your Secretary of Health and Human Services, and your director of the CIA.”
“Do you have any solid accusations against them except the fact they all have blond hair and German-sounding names?”
“They are all members of Empire. And you have been their way into the White House. You were their Trojan Horse.”
“This is absurd,” Alvarez objected.
“I am sorry, but you are wrong. I have data about them back to when they entered the public eye a year ago as personnel and financial supporters of your presidential campaign,” replied Adams.
After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, President Alvarez finally uttered. “My presidency represents everything they oppose. I am a Latina; my grandparents were Mexican immigrants. I am not a blonde woman with a pale skin. My pre-election rhetoric was centered on equality and equal opportunities for welfare.”
“You started as the underdog of the presidential election race, and your road ended in the Oval Office. Have you ever questioned how this happened? If it were not for the huge amounts of money your sponsors spent on your campaign, this room would not be yours. A politician is nothing without money to run a campaign. You did not have the money until Rhoetter, Sauer, and Schaefer showed up. It was their fundraising that ensured the millions required for advertising, consultants, and travel expenses. Madame President, can you please inform your guests what Rhoetter, Sauer, and Schaefer requested in exchange for their valuable services to you?” asked Adams.
“I am not obliged to tell them anything,” President Alvarez stated.
“You are not, but you should,” Adams replied.
“They requested a post in my administration. More accurately, they requested the positions they are currently holding,” Alvarez said quietly after a moment of consideration. Feeling their dismissive glances, she felt the need to defend herself. “You think I sold myself and my presidency out to them, but you are wrong! I never cheated my voters. My rhetoric has always been sincere and righteous. I stay true to who I am and where I come from. And I am devoted to fighting for human rights and equality. I knew from the beginning that I would never get to the Oval Office without the financial support they granted me. But I would never allow myself to become their strawman. I am the most powerful person in the world. I am their boss. They will be dismissed if they do not follow my orders,” Alvarez said, shaking.
“I am sorry to say, Madame President, that they do not give a damn about your presidency. All they wanted was a cover-up for all the atrocities they planned to put into action. And just did. The Macedonia biological attack was only the first one they plan to unleash on American soil. We have accurate information that there is more to come,” said Adams.
“Why would they do that? What their real plan is?” Alvarez asked, tears in her eyes.
“Their belief is that the Aryan race is the master race and all minorities should be exterminated. They want to eliminate all those who do not fit their concept and won’t stop until they succeed,” Adams stated, his voice steady.
Sweat trickled down Alvarez’s face, and her hands trembled as compunction filled her soul. Moving slowly, Norchelle approached the President and put her hands on Alvarez’s shaking shoulders, who accepted the comforting gesture.
“Madame President, I believed in you. I voted for you. And I am still convinced that you were not aware of the mad plan they had. All of us here in the room, we have your back. All we ask is that you believe us and trust us. We can stop them. There is still time to stop them,” Norchelle said in her velvety voice.
President Alvarez turned her glance on Norchelle and looked into her glowing eyes.
“I have failed. I trusted people I should not have trusted. My chief of staff, my most trusted advisor. The CIA Director. And all the others ... I chose wrong ... I put my country in danger. It is because of me that my country faces the greatest danger in her history. I do not deserve to be the President of the United States. I have to resign,” Alvarez mumbled, entering in a state of shock.
Her body starter shaking under Norchelle’s hands, her eyes were wide open as if she had seen a ghost, and she kept repeating the same things. “I failed ... I am dangerous ... I have to resign...”
“Madame President! Ms. Alvarez! Gabriela!” Norchelle shouted at her before she slapped in the face. “I am sorry, I am so sorry, I had to do it to make you stop,” she apologized as droplets of sweat rolled down her cheeks.
They were all standing around the Resolute desk trying to calm Alvarez down. They had spent valuable time talking and explaining without taken any serious action. It had been hours since they had last communicated with Vittor; they could not know if he and Floriana were safe. They had not received any reports on the Macedonia attack either; however, they were now convinced that a massive cover-up was underway, and the truth would not come out unless President Alvarez composed herself and made the right decisions.
“Gabriela!” Norchelle shouted again. “I need you to listen to me carefully. I am a woman, and I know how it is to live in a man’s world. I am a woman of color, and I know that I will always have to try harder to achieve my goals. I imagine how it is to be you, Gabriela Maria Alvarez. I voted for you. I trusted you. Now, please prove me right. Do not show me that I should have voted for that guy!” she yelled, looking into the President’s eyes.
Gabriela’s chest started moving up and down as she tried to take deep breaths. She kept staring into Norchelle’s eyes as she uttered her first words since her panic attack had started.
“I am responsible for you. I am responsible for them; for my voters and those who did not vote for me. I have to stop this. I have to stop this,” she repeated slowly.
“We all make bad choices. Trust me. Listen to the old man who is talking to you; I have made countless bad choices in the many years I’ve breathed and lived on Earth. And to be honest, it is because my mistakes have worked with your mistakes that we find ourselves in a position like this right now,” the Master said. “My daughter-in-law, whom I thought dead for more than a decade, is working with your people, and they all work for the Empire,” he added as he noticed the president’s questioning look.
“Well,” President Alvarez said as the ends of her lips curled up, “old man ... I think you are more fucked-up than I am!”
She started shaking again, but this time it was due to a burst of laughter that escalated as the others joined her. One by one, they erupted in cachinnation, freeing themselves from the tension they’d suffered the last hours.
A knock on the Oval Office’s door brought them back to order. The smiles froze on their faces, as the president’s personal assistant announced, “There has been another attack.”