June 2076
Council Headquarters
Location Unknown

Donald Reeves sat in the chair at the center of the dark room. Perspiration dampened his brow as he sought in vain to see the faces of those surrounding him at their desks. Meeting with the Council was always a nervous affair for Donald. He didn’t even know their real names. It was like speaking to ghosts. He fidgeted with his hands, trying to calm himself and stop his heart from racing. Appearing before these people was never something Donald looked forward to doing.

“Mr. Reeves, welcome back,” said the first figure on his left, identified to him only as Mr. Jefferson. “I assume your reason for being here personally suggests our plans are moving along?”

“Yes, um, yes, sir. Everything is, is, moving at an even p-pace,” Donald stuttered. He was never one for interrogations and being spoken to by people hiding in the shadows didn’t help. He pulled at his collar and took a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve secured b-both teams for the convention s-s-security d-detail.” 

Reeves hated meeting with the Council. They spoke little and seemed more interested in his reaction to what they asked of him than they did in the results he delivered. At least he had good news to deliver. Bad news was never received well.

“I understand your own son is to be part of one of the companies, Mr. Reeves. You must be proud of the role he will play,” replied another figure, ‘Mr. Grant’, who sat at the far end of the table from ‘Mr. Jefferson’.

“Yes, sir. Jeremy will be taking contract with Pride Security, I’ve been assured of his place by the head of the company,” Reeves responded. He was proud of his son, but also afraid. The mission in question would be extremely dangerous for all parties involved. More people involved would be dead that day than alive. “His friend, Sebastian Malwood, will as well. They are both c-c-capable and I’ve been told they are to receive distinction in their e-e-examinations.”

“What of the others?” a third figure asked, Mr. Adams. He sat squarely in the middle of the arched table, directly facing Reeves’s chair.

“The others I am not sure about, s-sir,” Reeves replied uneasily. “Hawthorne, Sanderson, and Woods may take a variety of offers. As for, Alex Samuelson, it has been speculated he will be joining Lionheart Security. Its Director, Darren Blake, was a friend of his father, I’m told, before the man passed away.”

“Excellent,” a voice cackled sharply, this time female. ‘Mrs. Lincoln’, she was the original member of the Council and had planned the entire operation from the start. “Have you been in contact with Miss Hawthorne?”

“Not yet,” Reeves replied. “Their graduation ceremony will be held in two days time. I will be there for my son, but I will also have access to the others.”

“Very well, Mr. Reeves. See that you do. She is the key to this plan, she is the only one Samuelson truly trusts, that much is clear,” the mysterious woman replied contemptuously. “She is the only one who has a chance of taking him alive. And we need him alive.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Reeves,” Mr. Jefferson said, clearly dismissing him from the meeting. Reeves stood and bowed. He slowly back up to the door, opened it, and left the dark room. Nearly a full day of travel time, to give a report that lasted no more than 15 minutes. Typical decorum. But Reeves had also situated himself well with the Council, and had been promised a large reward in exchange for his services.

“Is this really going to work, bringing in that team alive?” Mr. Grant asked, as the portly agent waddled backwards out of the chambers. “With everything that will be happening, there is a good chance they will all die before we can extract them.”

“Temper your personal feelings on this,” replied Mrs. Lincoln. “This plan is years in the making. We have more eyes and ears on the ground than even you know. We will have them right where we want them and then we will take them. You would do well to focus on your side of the operation and leave the rest to us.” Her tone clearly showed her anger, but the man she addressed simply shrugged.

“Speaking of ‘my side’, I need to get back. I’ve got an incoming call about the shipments from Canada. If you will all excuse me,” he bowed. Then he was gone through the side door, leaving the rest to discuss more matters between themselves.

“Can he be truly trusted?” Mr. Jefferson asked of the others. A few grunted in the affirmative or stayed silent in their own suspicion.

“He cannot be trusted further than we can throw him,” scoffed Mrs. Lincoln, her cackle once again carrying across the room. Several others join her for a moment before the din died down. “No he cannot be trusted to do anything of his own volition. But we still have the power to destroy his family. That’s why we can trust him to carry out the plan. He cares for them more than the rest of the world combined. He will complete his tasks, I promise you that.”

“And then, what? We release him?” asked Mr. Adams sharply.

“Of course not. When he has served his purpose, he becomes our ticket to power. Who better to blame than the man who actually ordered the attacks?” chuckled Mrs. Lincoln again. This time the entire Council erupted into cheers and soon champagne was being broken out.

“To Operation Restoration!” shouted one of the other Council members. “To America, now and forever, the greatest nation on earth!” 

A chorus of approval followed and the celebrations continued long after the meeting was adjourned.

* * *

Reeves slid into the posh limousine that awaited his return in the subterranean garage of the NAIL headquarters building. He still didn’t know exactly where the headquarters was located. Whenever he was summoned, he flew into Omaha, St. Louis, or Chicago. He was then driven several hours to the location in a blacked out limousine. 

“Just like the Bermuda Triangle,” he mumbled as he felt the smooth leather stretch under his weight. The door closed and the car was suddenly very dark compared to even the dimly lit garage it now drove out of.

“I’ve always thought of it like that too, Mr. Reeves,” a low voice from across the car said quietly. Reeves jumped in surprise.

“Who the hell is that? How did you get in here?” Reeves shouted, though a small voice in the back of his head reminded him the car was also soundproof. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

They wouldn’t kill me now, not while their plan still hangs on the Hawthorne girl, he thought, calculating who the stranger was and what he would need to do to survive the car ride to the airport. A lot could happen in three hours.

“I am a member of the Council, that is all you need to know about who I am,” the voice said. It was muffled and synthetic. Reeves realized whoever it was at the other end of the car, they were taking pains to not let him know their identity. That puzzled him greatly, since he only recognized the voices of the Council members, not their real names of faces.

“What do you want? I already gave my report. If you are on the Council, you’d know that,” Reeves replied, tempering his suspicion. He didn’t want to make a mistake now. If things went well, he’d never have to speak to the Council again.

“Oh yes, your report was satisfactory, have no fear,” chuckled the voice. “No, what I need is for you to deliver some important items to some even more important people.” The figure raised a gloved hand and pointed to a small box next to Reeves, and the plain envelope resting upon it. “Do not open the box or the envelope, and do not touch their contents, is that understood?”

“Y-Yes, p-perfectly,” Reeves replied quickly. 

He didn’t need convincing that this was one of the council members and they had all been present when he had left. It could be any of them, but Reeves would not risk angering any of them, especially not here in the heart of their power.

“All I want you to do is deliver the items to the people whose names are written on them. I understand the graduation ceremony is in a few days. That should present an opportune time to deliver the packages,” replied the shadowy figure.

“Who do I s-say this is from, s-sir? Won’t it look suspicious me just handing her a gift, a girl I’ve never met,” Reeves asked timidly.

“Just let Ms. Hawthorne know it is from a perspective recruiter, that’s all you need to say Mr. Reeves. As for Blake, just tell him it’s from an old friend,” replied Council member in the shadows. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some other business to attend to.”

A slight hiss sounded to Reeves’s right side and he smelled a sweet scent. He realized too late what it was as he slumped into his seat, fast asleep. The figure in the shadows stepped out of the vehicle and nodded once to the driver, who closed the door behind the man.

“Make sure Mr. Reeves gets on that plane,” the man said to the driver. The driver nodded silently, got into the car, and drove off, back toward Omaha.

When Donald Reeves woke some time later, the limousine was parked at the Omaha International Airport and the door of the car stood open. He wondered at what had happened, then saw the box on the seat next to him. 

That bastard drugged me, he thought uncomfortably, but smoothed out his suit and grabbed the box. Climbing out into the harsh sunlight caused him to try to retreat back into the vehicle, but the door was already closed. The driver stood next to him, holding out Reeves’s first class ticket. Reeves snatched the paper and stalked inside to catch his flight back to the Pacific Territory.

Next Chapter: Ch. 11 - Graduation