Chapter 3.
THE SYNDICATE
The gentlemen's club can be found in most larger cities across the country. It has always provided a safe haven for its members. Here gentlemen gathered to dine and read in silence, to gossip and plot and take advantage of the well-stocked cavernous wine cellars. Gambling and card playing is also an accepted part of the elite society.
A taxi stopped outside of the wooden front door. The door was decorated with a plate in brass which read The Gentlemen's Club of New England ND. A man stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver. He was tall and handsome, dressed in an elegant suit, greyish-brown hair, and a well-groomed beard. With the portfolio in one hand, he looked like a banker.
"Would you like me to wait for you, sir?" the driver asked as he received the payment for the trip, as well as a generous tip.
"That would be a long wait, I'm afraid." The man replied and walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
After a few seconds, an attendant opened the door.
"Good evening, sir." The attendant greeted. He knew him by his looks, although he never learned his name. He only knew that he would be given the special treatment.
The man that looked like a banker was taken to a door at the far end of the library, a double door with a plate that read Fencing Hall. As the man stepped inside, the waiter pressed a switch at its side, and a concealed sliding door was opened in the wall just inside the double doors and the floor in front of him begun to drop away. The opening now formed a spiral staircase.
The elegant man walked calmly down the flight of stairs. He knew what he was going to find below because he had been there before. To the men that waited for him in the rigidly furnished boardroom he was only known as Ulysses. It was not customary for the members of the board to refer to each other by nicknames, but the man known as Ulysses held such an important role in the Syndicate that it was vital that his real name would not be revealed. If he were exposed to the authorities, years of work would be lost.
The board members came from all parts of the country, and there were even some that hailed from across the sea. They were all experts on organised criminality. They knew all about secret routes of transportation and illegal communication. Each of them was in possession of qualities that made them invaluable to the Syndicate.
They were all intent on creating an artificial crisis, something that would unite humanity under their leadership.
When Ulysses entered the boardroom, the rest of the members of the board were already at their seats. He walked with purposeful steps until he reached his seat. In advance pencils and notepads had been placed out for each member. Everyone sat down in silence, waiting for the chairman - the other man in this room that was not known by his real name, to start the meeting.
When he did, he spoke with a steady voice.
"I think you all agree that our collaboration during the last three years has been most fruitful." He never bothered with formalities. It was for lesser men. "I now have the pleasure to announce that our means in accounts in Switzerland, London and New York are in session fourteen hundred and fifty billion dollars. According to our calculations, the combined sum will be well enough to cover the expenses for our project, and if everything goes according to our plans, the sum will be doubled within a year. The profits will of course be shared among us as we have agreed upon."
Every one of the present board members breathed a sigh of relief and placed themselves more comfortably on the chairs.
"As you know, I presented a list two years ago of ten foreign hotspots to replace the Middle East as the new evil empires." The leader continued. "Of those ten outlined scenarios, seven have now occurred with agents of the Syndicate at every scene. Now the congress will continue funding the armed forces actions abroad, thus increasing the already large budget deficit in the country. The purpose of course is to reduce the country to poverty, thus agitate the population into armed disputes, paving the road for a politician under our banner to candidate for the White House."
Once his opening speech was completed, the leader begun to listen to the reports presented by member by member in session. The reports were mostly of economical contents. He had already studied them, so they were solely for the benefit of the members of the board. However, when the turn came to Ulysses, he stiffened in his chair and begun to listen with more care.
"The World Unification Alliance has authorized Hugh Heyman to proceed with his plan of an anti-terror task force." Ulysses reported. He looked the leader straight into the eyes and gave his report from memory. It was a sign of confidence, necessary to retain the trust in the organisation. Whenever the leader detected hesitation or even the smallest hint of deceit, he would replace that board member with someone new. For precaution, most members only knew a fraction of the Syndicates work so a loss of a member could not compromise the entire organisation.
"Heyman has tasked Andrew Trakker to come up with the design of armed vehicles that will utilize stealth to get close to troubled area without attracting attention. Their next step will be to find a leader and recruit suitable agents."
"Are you aware of any known candidates for this position?" Asked the leader.
"No one has been considered just yet since the project has just been approved. I do know however, that they want someone who is able to think outside of the box. Unconventional and innovative out on the field. With the right people under his lead, the Special Missions Force could be a source of irritation."
There was a mumble across the boardroom. The leader silenced them with a gesture with one hand.
"A source of irritation, yes." He spoke. "But do you recon that they could become a threat to us?"
Ulysses kept looking the leader in the eyes.
"They are still groping in darkness." He assured. "They know the name of our organisation, that we are conducting most of the larger incidents across the country, but they are unaware of how our organisation works and they have been unable to expose any of our contacts. As a government contractor, they are obliged to provide my office with regular reports, so if they manage to uncover anything of importance, I will immediately be informed of this, and we can take the necessary measures to counter their attempts."
One of the other board members carefully cleared his throat and turned towards the leader.
"Would you want me to eliminate Trakker?"
The leader looked over at the man, who immediately fell silent.
"No. We still don't know what kind of threat that The Special Missions Force will be able to pose to us. In any case it is too early to play our hand. The World Unification Alliance is blissfully ignorant of our informers within their organisation. Were we to eliminate the leader of the Special Missions Force they would have to commit a full investigation and our informer could be exposed."
He gave the man who had suggested the murder a long look, reminding him whom it was who gave the orders.
"Leave Trakker alone until further notice." He ordered.
The board members mumbled their approval, while the leader glanced at his golden wristwatch.
"The operation will proceed as we have agreed upon. You will report your progress as well as eventual problems to me through the usual routes. Never directly. I hope you all understand the importance of this."
He fastened his eyes on everyone present, and they all nodded their assent.
"Then I declare this meeting concluded. I will send out summons when the next meeting will be held."
Upon this word. everyone stood up as one in front of their chairs and bowed in respect for their leader. Then they calmly walked for the door. Not a word was exchanged between them.
Matt and his family had remained in Miami for a couple of days after the riot. Rebecca and the kids had all been shaken by the incident and Matt wanted to give them time to recover before going back home to Denver.
He and Rebecca had been out on the golf track the previous afternoon and this morning he had played tennis with Chloe. Now they sat by the pool. Chloe was working on her tan while Scott had Matt measure the time he could spend under water.
"That was eight seconds." Matt informed as the boy resurfaced.
"Eight seconds?" He responded, disbelieving. "It must have been longer than that. You're just counting slow!"
"It was eight seconds. And I was being generous. You came up for air just after I counted seven."
"It was a good thing that he didn't stay submerged any longer." Teased Chloe. "You almost reached the height of your counting."
"Oh, I can count much higher than that." Matt assured her. "I just have to take my shoes of first."
Rebecca, who was reading the news on her pad laughed. She and Chloe got along fine although she was not her biological daughter, and it was always fun to put the man in the family in his place. Matt took it with good humour.
Once they got back home, Chloe would return to her mother for some time though, so the more time he could spend with her, the better. It was the downside of a divorce with shared custody of a child. Matt would have liked to have her all the time, but her mother had an equal right.
"Listen to this, Matt." Rebecca suddenly spoke as she read from an article. "Last night there were a riot in Baltimore. A street party where the participants had been served food, played ball, danced and had been drinking beer. But a small fight had started that had blown out of proportions and the youngsters had been driven into a killing frenzy, escalating to the ensuing disturbances.
Over 150 police officers, among them some k-9 units, had scrambled to contain the violence and limit the destruction."
She put the pad down and eyed him.
"Two riots in just a few weeks' time. Can you believe that? What are the odds?"
"I don't know." Matt replied, shaking his head. "And there have been no forewarnings. No new laws or regulations that could enrage them."
"Why do people riot, dad?" Chloe asked, raising on her elbow.
"Usually because they feel disrespected." Matt explained. "People that lives under poverty, unemployment or governmental oppression. It is a form of protest."
"But does it really help them to go out and destroy like that?"
"Not really. It usually has the opposite effect. The destruction costs are so high that the government must increase the taxes to cover for the repairs which often results in more urban decay."
"Is Uncle Andy's company doing anything to help?" she wondered.
"I'm sure he is. Young Enterprises help with education so that more people with low socioeconomic status can apply for better paid work and lessen the economic inequity."
"Wouldn't it just help to give them money?" Scott asked. He didn't understand all that was being said but didn't want to be left out.
"It wouldn't help in the long run. Many people are against alms. It makes them feel stigmatized, branded, since it gives them a label that distinguishes them negatively and affects how people judge them. What your grandfather wanted was to help people help themselves so they wouldn't have to continue to rely on welfare."
"How do you do that?"
"Educating them is always helpful."
"Haven't they already been in school? I mean all kids go to school."
"Not all." Rebecca told. "Some people that has moved here from other countries haven't had any school to go to. Others had to leave school early to help to provide for their families."
"I would much rather work than go to school." Scott sighed. "School's boring."
"You can help us best by finishing school." Matt pointed out. "And you should never forget that you have a privilege that some others could only dream of."
"Sure." Scott replied, dropping the subject.
His eyes said otherwise though. He didn't agree, but he was mature enough to understand that he wouldn't get an approval from his parents about dropping school. For Matt it was important that both he and Chloe understood how things were for others. They were born into a rich family, they never had to miss out on anything. It was so easy to get spoiled.
Matt had always been an early riser and one of the reasons was so he could perform some of his hobbies undisturbed. Like here in Miami, where he could go out surfing by himself before breakfast. He loved to have the ocean all by himself, finding his way to the biggest waves without having to watch out for other surfers.
With the surfboard under his arm, he waded out into the water as far as he could. Then he laid down on top of the board and paddled with his feet in an attempt at catching the largest wave. Getting up on top of it, he rode the wave until it finally collapsed, gliding elegantly across the spraying water.
Like racing, this was one of the things he lived for. The thrills of adventure, the challenges where he could forget about everything and just live in the present. Everything there was now, was he and the ocean, and he enjoyed it.
But his solitude did not last long.
He was surfing a large wave when he noted that he was no longer alone. Looking over his shoulder, he discovered a second surfer coming up the wave behind him, effortlessly changing direction to remain on the wave. The man barely spared Matt a second glance.
The wave reached shallow water, and so did the two surfers. But while Matt begun to paddle out anew, the other man dismounted and walked quickly up the sand.
"What a strange man." Matt thought for himself. "It's perfect surfing conditions, yet he only rides one wave into shore, and then leaves the bay.
The man was gone, but so was also Matt's concentration. As he attempted to get atop a new wave, he lost his balance and the wave quickly crashed over and wiped him out. He swam for shore, out of breath and sat down to gather his strength before walking back up to the hotel.
He looked for whereabouts of the man who had surfed in minutes ago, but there were no traces of him. Matt wondered if the man had had a car waiting for him that had driven him of.
The strange incident from the morning didn't give his mind a rest. He spent a big part of the day teaching Chloe windsurfing, but every now and then his mind begun to ponder on the activities of the surfer. He decided that he should ask the staff what they knew.
After dinner, he walked up to the registration desk and spoke to the clerk, a middle-aged oriental man.
"I was out surfing this morning," he said casually. "and there was another surfer out at the same time. I found his behavior somewhat strange, because there were perfect conditions, and he didn't stay but drove of almost immediately."
"Ah, I see that you have encountered our local phenomena." He understood. "Yes, there are several guests that have spotted him. He comes surfing the same day every month, he is very punctual. You can set your watch after him!"
The clerk laughed heartily.
"Who is he?"
"No one really knows. He's quite a character, but he's harmless. Pay it no mind."
But forgetting about the surfer was the last thing on Matt's mind. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that the man was up to something illegal.
"It could be a smuggler." He thought.
The following morning Matt again awoke early. He dressed in khaki-colored clothes and walked down to the beach. The night was going into morning, and Matt could see the first rays of the sun emitting over the horizon. He knew that the surfer couldn't come earlier than this, because there wouldn't be enough light for him to move about.
He hid in the grass with a pair of binoculars, scanning the ocean for anything that didn't appear right. But there were neither any boats nor surfers to see. Despite this he remained in position for almost two hours before returning to the hotel. He knew that if the surfer were up to something illegal, he would not be coming during a time when there could be people on the beach.
The following morning, he repeated the same procedure but once more there was nothing to see. The ocean was just as devoid of boats and surfers as it had been the previous day.
"Maybe I am seeing ghosts." Matt thought to himself. "But I would like to know more about this guy!"
He was unable to conduct any more reconnaissance, as they were going to fly back to Colorado. Still, Matt decided that he would return as soon as he could. If the surfer were indeed doing something illegal, he would uncover his operation and hand him over to the police.
Later the same day they had taken a taxi to Miami airport and was just about to check in their luggage when Matt was suddenly approached by a woman. She was dressed in a black jacket, a patterned cream-white blouse, and a white skirt. Her long light-brown hair was tied up in a French twist on the back of her head.
"Matt Trakker?" she asked with a distinguished British accent.
"That's me," Matt nodded. "What can I do for you?"
"My name is Helena Bennett." She told as she showed her ID. "I'm executive secretary to the chief of security Hugh Heyman at the World Consultation building in New Orleans. We would like you to attend a special meeting regarding national security."
"The World Consultation Building?" Matt echoed, surprised. "What would I want to see them for? Is it something that involves Young Enterprises? In that case perhaps you should seek out my brother Andrew…"
"No, it's definitely you that Mr. Heyman wants to attend the meeting."
His curiosity awakened; Matt tried to press her for more details.
"What do they want to see me for?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not really at liberty to say anything more, so is it alright if your family goes home alone while you follow us to Louisiana? We have a jet standing by."
Matt was a bit hesitant since it meant deserting his wife and kids at the airport, but Rebecca assured him that it would be alright.
"It sounds like it could be important." She said, as the World Consultation Alliance and national security had been mentioned. "You better go with them if they've gone through all this trouble of collecting you here with a private jet."
"Sorry for the short notice." Helena said apologetic. "We have a rather tight schedule, so it was not possible to call you in advance."
"Just don't keep him for too long." Rebecca said, something Helena promised her not to.
Matt said goodbye to them before he followed Helena to the waiting jet. It took off almost as soon as they were aboard.