me.”
“On paper, I work for a gentleman named Arthur Gardner.”
“And he’s in the New World Order, am I right? Or the Bilderbergers? Or the CFR?”
Landers smiled. “He’s in public relations.”
“Public relations?”
“He runs a multinational firm called Doyle & Merchant.”
“Doyle & Merchant.” Simmons pronounced the names as thoughthey left an unmanly taste in his mouth. “Sounds like a couple of San Francisco rump-wranglers.”
“Be that as it may. You can believe it or not, but as much as any single force in human history they’ve shaped the world you live in, and the world that’s about to come.”
“What with, words and pretty pictures?” He spat again. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
“Of course you don’t,” Landers said. “And they wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Another lackey came to the balcony and informed the two that Mr. Pierce was almost ready now for the conference to resume.
Olin Simmons let out a sigh, cracked his neck, and started for the door, but Landers stopped him.
“Tell me something,” Landers said. “Are you ready for more?”
“Sure. I’m not much of a man for meetings, but this one’s blowin’ my mind—”
“No,” Landers interrupted, and he made a subtle show of looking behind him and through the open door to ensure they were alone. “What I mean, Olin, is that a time may come soon when I need more from you. And I want to know if you’ll be ready to step up and do what needs to be done when I ask you.”
Simmons pocketed his tobacco pouch and considered that for a moment. “When you ask me what?” By the sly tone of this question it was already clear he had an inkling of its answer.
“I have to trust in the leadership I leave in charge here,” Landers said. “I’m talking about Mr. Pierce, and his future with us. Just watch while we’re in there, and you’ll see what I’m seeing. Everyone must serve their purpose, and I need to decide how faithfully he’s going to serve his. Be ready to give me your counsel before I leave.”
Landers put out his right hand, and after a thoughtful moment Olin Simmons took it with a firm shake and all the gravity appropriate to the pledge of a new allegiance.
Chapter 14
B efore the final session of their pre-deployment conference could resume, word arrived at the Pierce compound that the remains of two men had been found, identified, and recovered from the adjacent woods.
These had been a pair of the organization’s best commandos, both sent out in pursuit of Molly Ross on the night of her recent escape. A third was still missing in action—the nineteen-year-old nephew of the little General himself—and considering the fate of the other two and the amount of time that had passed without contact, it was only realistic to presume this young man to be dead at the enemy’s hands as well.
As Warren Landers returned to the meeting room the other attendees were still milling about on their break, grumbling about the dismal news from the field. George Pierce sat alone, deep in study at the head of the table, with unfolded maps and a ream of handwritten notes spread around him. A Bible lay open to its final pages nearby. He continued this way, seemingly engaged in his own intrigues even after the assembly was called back to order.
Throughout the night, Landers laid out the details of the nationwide tactical plan.
Their orders were simple enough for men of this class to understand and carry out; no real comprehension of the broader design was required. Timing and orchestration would be the key to their role in this coup d’état, like the sequenced detonations of a controlled demolition. Without such an underlying scheme, in fact, if executed randomly and one by one these small assignments he gave might have little impact on a prepared and courageous public.
Fortunately, prepared and courageous was not the trending status of the modern American people.
Many thoughtful decades had
“On paper, I work for a gentleman named Arthur Gardner.”
“And he’s in the New World Order, am I right? Or the Bilderbergers? Or the CFR?”
Landers smiled. “He’s in public relations.”
“Public relations?”
“He runs a multinational firm called Doyle & Merchant.”
“Doyle & Merchant.” Simmons pronounced the names as thoughthey left an unmanly taste in his mouth. “Sounds like a couple of San Francisco rump-wranglers.”
“Be that as it may. You can believe it or not, but as much as any single force in human history they’ve shaped the world you live in, and the world that’s about to come.”
“What with, words and pretty pictures?” He spat again. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
“Of course you don’t,” Landers said. “And they wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Another lackey came to the balcony and informed the two that Mr. Pierce was almost ready now for the conference to resume.
Olin Simmons let out a sigh, cracked his neck, and started for the door, but Landers stopped him.
“Tell me something,” Landers said. “Are you ready for more?”
“Sure. I’m not much of a man for meetings, but this one’s blowin’ my mind—”
“No,” Landers interrupted, and he made a subtle show of looking behind him and through the open door to ensure they were alone. “What I mean, Olin, is that a time may come soon when I need more from you. And I want to know if you’ll be ready to step up and do what needs to be done when I ask you.”
Simmons pocketed his tobacco pouch and considered that for a moment. “When you ask me what?” By the sly tone of this question it was already clear he had an inkling of its answer.
“I have to trust in the leadership I leave in charge here,” Landers said. “I’m talking about Mr. Pierce, and his future with us. Just watch while we’re in there, and you’ll see what I’m seeing. Everyone must serve their purpose, and I need to decide how faithfully he’s going to serve his. Be ready to give me your counsel before I leave.”
Landers put out his right hand, and after a thoughtful moment Olin Simmons took it with a firm shake and all the gravity appropriate to the pledge of a new allegiance.
Chapter 14
B efore the final session of their pre-deployment conference could resume, word arrived at the Pierce compound that the remains of two men had been found, identified, and recovered from the adjacent woods.
These had been a pair of the organization’s best commandos, both sent out in pursuit of Molly Ross on the night of her recent escape. A third was still missing in action—the nineteen-year-old nephew of the little General himself—and considering the fate of the other two and the amount of time that had passed without contact, it was only realistic to presume this young man to be dead at the enemy’s hands as well.
As Warren Landers returned to the meeting room the other attendees were still milling about on their break, grumbling about the dismal news from the field. George Pierce sat alone, deep in study at the head of the table, with unfolded maps and a ream of handwritten notes spread around him. A Bible lay open to its final pages nearby. He continued this way, seemingly engaged in his own intrigues even after the assembly was called back to order.
Throughout the night, Landers laid out the details of the nationwide tactical plan.
Their orders were simple enough for men of this class to understand and carry out; no real comprehension of the broader design was required. Timing and orchestration would be the key to their role in this coup d’état, like the sequenced detonations of a controlled demolition. Without such an underlying scheme, in fact, if executed randomly and one by one these small assignments he gave might have little impact on a prepared and courageous public.
Fortunately, prepared and courageous was not the trending status of the modern American people.
Many thoughtful decades had
Similar Books
