D'Ercy Estate
Nikolas stepped away from Robin. His eyes were angry. "What kind of cruel trick is this?"
"No trick. It's me," said Robin.
"Alfred told me you were … are dead. Your obituary was in the paper." Nikolas turned to Thanos. "Explain this."
"This was a unique way to show you the truth. No malice was ever intended," said Thanos.
"Revealing myself to you was my idea," said Robin. She held out a hand towards Nikolas. "It's really me. I'm alive."
Nikolas took her hand. "So Grandmother didn't kill you? What's really going on here?" He looked at Robin's companion. "Who are you?"
"This is Vincent Cassini. He's my-" began Robin.
"Bodyguard," finished Vincent standing off to the side content to be an observer.
"You are not."
"At this moment I am."
"We're going to talk about this later."
"Of course we are."
"Back to Helena. She really did cause the death of Robin Scorpio, um, Drake. She did die," said Robin.
"But you're standing right here very much alive," said Nikolas.
"Doctor Robin Scorpio-Drake was another woman named Eve Montrose. In 2001, she was changed to become me in nearly every way through surgery and mental programming," said Robin. "She lived my life and I … didn't … couldn't."
"Robin, she knew things that only you would know about us. No one can keep a masquerade going like that for so long."
"It wasn't pretending for Eve, Nikolas. She was given a drug that made her truly believe she was me. My life was hers in her mind and in her heart," said Robin. "The how isn't important right now. What is important is that you know the truth about me, Eve and Helena."
"That she killed your … double. All right. I absolutely believe that."
"There's more." Robin asked Thanos, "He knows about the syringe?"
"Only that Helena had it and used it," replied Thanos.
"She targeted you … Eve … specifically. That's heinous enough for me," said Nikolas.
"Helena had the syringe because she was part of the … the organization that created it," said Robin.
Nikolas' expression grew stormy. "Are you telling me that Cassadine money was used for this?"
"We think in the beginning, years ago, that's true," said Robin. "The organization is now known as the Heritage Foundation."
"What?! The same foundation that kept those people prisoner and … and experimented on them?"
"Yes."
"Stefan would never have allowed this."
"I doubt he knew." Thanos added quietly. "No one knew and we should have."
Nikolas looked at Robin then Thanos and back to Robin. "I can't wrap my head around Helena funding this. This level of inhumanity is something she's not capable of. How do you know? What proof do you have?"
"I know because I worked for the Foundation."
"Under duress. Stop blaming yourself," said Vincent.
"I'm being factual. I've never lied to Nikolas and I'm not starting now," said Robin glaring at Vincent. She turned to Nikolas. "I can't tell you the details. I can only say that I know the organization. I know what they did. I know that Helena was one of the principals running it. Everything that Thanos told you about Helena's activities is true."
"It's sinking in," admitted Nikolas. "I've cut her off financially. She's banned from the island and Wyndemere. She's completely dependent on her own resources. What else can I do?"
"May I make a suggestion?" said Thanos.
"Of course."
"Lack of funds is a mere inconvenient paper cut to one such as Helena. Do you wish to mete punishment upon her that is certain to wound deeply?"
"Yes, I do."
Thanos's eyes held a predatory gleam. "Then disavow her place in the family, formally strip her of the role she has so zealously guarded within said family and, lastly, assure all present that she has no claim upon the name of Cassadine."
"Those are gestures. Traditional but they mean nothing in practical terms."
"It means more than nothing. How much more you shall learn tomorrow. Will you do as I suggest at Conclave?"
"How would I do that?"
"Assigning names and roles is a customary procedure. I need only raise the matter for … review. Once the matter is in motion, you simply need to say a few phrases and the deed is done. I shall be most amenable to do my part if you do yours."
"Let it be done," said Nikolas.
"You need not look back on this with regret or remorse," advised Thanos.
"Like you said, the truth hurts but my mother Laura always preferred that truth win out no matter the pain," said Nikolas. "I think I'll visit her after Conclave. Stay a few days before I return home."
"How is she?" asked Robin.
"She's fully recovered. She's opening a small bistro."
"Recovered from what?"
"Mom was in a catatonic state for some time. Robin's, I mean, Eve's formula kept her condition from getting worse," said Nikolas. "She's had relapses but she bounces back every time. Now, Mom is healthy and happily rebuilding her life."
"I've missed so much. Everyone's changed," said Robin. "I'm glad Eve was able to help Laura."
"She was a brilliant neuro-chemical researcher."
"That's what I'm finding out," said Robin. "Nikolas, you can't tell anyone about me."
"Why not? You're alive! Everyone will be happy to know that."
"I'm not the Robin they know. Don't you see that?"
"Of course you are."
"THAT Robin had her own life. She had a career, a family and a child. Me? I'm …" Robin glanced at Vincent. "I'm still adjusting to having a future again. I'm out of step with everything and everyone."
"But-"
"I'm not … I refuse to step into a dead woman's life. Her life had meaning to her husband, to her child and to her friends. I can't erase that history. I wouldn't."
"Then what are you going to do? Assume another identity?" asked Nikolas. "Or are you thinking of never coming home?"
"I'm working on it," said Robin. "I need time. Be my friend and keep my secret."
Nikolas pulled Robin to him and embraced her. "You know I will."
Airborne over the Atlantic
Sean pushed down the window shade then finished his gin and tonic. Seated in first class, he had more room than others. Why then did he feel claustrophobic? He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button. He reclined the seat as far as it would go. Nothing seemed to help.
With nothing to do physically and no one to talk to, his mind was rewinding memories he'd thought forgotten, at least in his waking moments. Spies knew too much. It was an occupational hazard. The spies who lasted learned to not think too much or remember anything too fondly. Unfortunately for Sean, unrelieved stress always made him reflective. Unbidden and unwelcome, pieces of his past played in his mind's eye. He returned to a day and time when a single man changed the course of his life, again.
The cliffs of Dover was the place. The man was Philip Coughlin. The man that Sean had been recruited by and someone Sean strove to emulate in every way.
"Hello, Sean. Thank you for coming on short notice," said Philip drawing up his coat collar and adjusting his hat against the blustery wind of the cliff top. "I hear you've landed on your feet in Paris. Reorganizing the personnel, building a new team."
"It's what you'd be doing," replied Sean. "I thought you were posted to Berlin. Has that changed?"
"Only delayed for a few days. I … I have something for you connected to your real mission in the service."
Sean's heart sped up. He plunged his hands into his coat pockets to contain his growing excitement. "I've been waiting … impatiently."
Philip chuckled. "Never seemed that way to me."
"Paris has many distractions. Enough to make a man forget for a week or a month," said Sean. "But I'll be glad to be doing something real for a change."
"Your cover IS real. You're Sean Donely, head of WSB Europe," said Philip. "Single-minded, ruthless when you have to be, dedicated to the Bureau with a unique flair for selecting the right personnel. That talent will be put to the test."
"I'll bite. How?"
"I'm giving you Operation Brimstone. The details are in the dossier I'll hand over later," said Philip. "The bureau is in a time of transition, Sean. The Cold War will end. It has to. We have to be ready before that happens."
"We are."
"No, we're not. Yes, we've changed training methods and styles. We're recruiting from a wider pool of candidates. But one thing we're not changing is our strategy and vision. The seventies are nearly over. The eighties will be a critical time period - a bridge to the new millennium. To reach our goals for the nineties and beyond, we need to provide the momentum now. Not next year but now." Philip looked at Sean. "Your value is in your head. I've said it often enough that pure strategic thinkers are rare. Those that can distance themselves from emotion and can envision all angles of a plan are priceless in our business. You're one of those and I'm shamelessly taking advantage of it."
"You sure I'm the right person for this? I'm the youngest chief and-"
"Exactly why you're the ideal person. This plan is very long term. It will span years maybe decades," said Philip. "It will be a secret you take to the grave as I will."
Sean let out his breath. "We know what's expected of us when we sign up. I'm going to do my best. What do you need me to do?"
"Our analysts have decided that one man on the other side needs special attention," said Coughlin. "His name is Cesar Faison. In a few months, he will be named as the head of DVX Europe. He's a lot like you without the social skills. He's built up a solid reputation, a broadening base of support in the upper echelons and yet keeps to the shadows himself. He's a textbook loner. We can't get much on his early history either. The DVX seemed to have that covered up or disguised. It doesn't matter. What does matter is what we're going to do about him. He's running projects that are nothing like what the DVX has done before. He's pushing the organization forward with new ideas and he has people listening to him. We can't let him become too strong."
"One person can't make a difference."
"One person made the first knife strike against Caesar. One person rallied a war-weary nation to fight on despite bombs and rockets raining on England day and night. One person made the decision to drop the first atomic bomb on Japan," said Philip. "One person can neutralize Cesar Faison and you are going to find, train and deploy her."
"Her?"
"Analysis believes a woman would have a better chance than a man," said Philip. "We haven't had much success with those women we've sent out for him. Charming as they are, they've been of marginal interest or ignored altogether. However, we do know he has a type."
"Which is?"
"Brunette, above average in height, elegant, smart."
"Beautiful?"
"Not necessarily but she'll have to catch his eye so she has to be at least pretty," said Coughlin. "Oh, and she has to be British and if she's a sharp chess player that would be a plus. Faison is a highly intelligent and disciplined man, Sean. Find a woman that would appeal to his mind and you have a good chance. The accent seems to be a quirk of his."
"That's a tall order," said Sean. "I'll start going through personnel files and-"
"No. She can't be someone who's been in the field. You have to make it difficult for the DVX to prove she's not who she seems to be. For her own safety if she gets as close to Faison as we hope she does, her cover must be above suspicion."
"Why can't we keep it to a simple assassination? I'll even do it myself."
"Because Faison is too important. His death would result in reprisals against us. He has quite the vengeful streak. The collateral damage must be contained," said Philip. "We have decided that Faison must be taken out by more subtle ways. He doesn't have to die for us to win."
"I sacrifice a … a pawn to get an eventual checkmate?"
"You're going to need a Queen to do the job right."
"Assuming that I find the right candidate, train her to be this Faison's very own custom-made Delilah and send her out like a Trojan Horse, how does she or I take him off the board?"
"The tactics are yours to devise. Make him quit. Discredit him. Whatever works short of killing him. I suggest you find a way to get to know him. You'll be better able to train your Mata Hari if you know the man personally."
"But what IS the goal? Or can't you tell me?"
"The goal is what I said before to neutralize Faison. He must not be allowed to gain more power within the DVX. It's 1974, Sean. Over the next ten years, the WSB has plans to execute that will make us better going into the next twenty even thirty years. But as we move forward, we have to ensure that the DVX stays where they are or improves less rapidly than we do."
"This Faison is that much of a threat?"
"We in the Commission think so. Slowing down the DVX and keeping them in check buys us time to change. We have no choice but to change if we are to survive," said Philip. "My career has a few good years left. I'll be lucky to end up at a foreign consulate as a special attache when I'm close to retirement age. But you, Sean, you're just getting started and getting better with every passing year. You're the future of the Bureau. I've presented your ideas to the Commission. They like them. You'll be hearing from a few of the members I suspect."
"I have to be honest. This is too much to process, Phil."
"I know. I hate to drop it into your lap like this but once you read the dossier and the information we have on Faison, you'll know that our decision is the right one."
"Any words of advise or wisdom? Any potential land mines I ought to skirt around?" asked Sean. "What guidelines would you follow if you were devising the tactical plan?"
Philip was thoughtful then he said, "The ideal person can't know she's a weapon against Faison."
"Given what she has to do, how can she think otherwise?"
"Invent the mother of all cover stories. Keep her isolated as much as you can. Work one on one with her as much as possible. You're the puppet master. You write the script and direct the marionettes but never let them see the strings. Not before or during the play and certainly not after it ends."
"My goal is to neutralize Cesar Faison by any means necessary without showing my hand. My agent can't know how damaging she's supposed to be or why. Ultimately, Faison can't know or see he's been played. Ever. Do I have all that straight?"
"Make it happen, Sean. You have carte blanche over Operation Brimstone. An account for your use has been opened and funded at a Swiss bank we have never used before."
"How much time do I have?"
"You need results in three years or less. On January 1st 1979, Brimstone will be buried whether you are successful or not. There will be no medals or even a single mission record. Your involvement must be and will be invisible. The identity and activities of your agent will remain classified for at least two hundred years."
"That's a long time."
"People have long memories. There can be serious political and diplomatic repercussions in taking out an important DVX official without official and public sanction. I know how delicate a balancing act this will require for you and your agent. We want to protect the both of you. The best way is to bury it so deep only those who know the true scope of the operation, that's you and me, will know the truth."
"If she pulls it off, she'll be a hero," said Sean.
"She can never know the full story or anyone else. I can't stress that enough. She and those close to her could be targeted by the DVX. That includes you. And if word get out, Brimstone could set a dangerous precedent within the Bureau itself."
"What kind of precedent?"
"The kind that we don't want to admit to let alone be known as condoning. There are some on the Commission that feel we need to be … dirtier and more ruthless in our operations. To them, it's perfectly all right to plan and assist in assassinations, especially the ones with political shadings or to use torture on enemy agents or to use leverage such as blackmail and bribery as standard tools for gaining the cooperation of difficult parties."
"We do those things now."
"To a far less extent than outsiders would suppose," said Philip. "These dissenters want more. They want to be forceful and dictate the landscape. I disagree. To cause an event is within our job description. But to plan such that there is only one possible outcome and eliminate free will and choice from the equation is not. We're not the ones to run the world. We observe. We watch. We analyze. We act only when we absolutely have to."
"But we live in an imperfect world. We need to control to create order."
"Ah, yes, I used to think that, too. But I've learned that the need to control too much is akin to having a god complex. Our service needs boundaries, Sean. It's the only way to keep everyone loyal, honest and honorable. Otherwise, how would you know friend from foe? You won't."
"Rules can be limiting. Drones in the field can get others killed very easily. Give me a creative thinker any day."
"Rules can be liberating, too. Boundaries should be in place not to harness or control free will but to shape it into the desired mold. But that takes a long time and I find that people have less and less patience to work towards the long view." Philip turned and headed closer to the edge of the cliffs. "Anticipate and plan for every possibility you can. Leave as little to chance and free will as possible. Most importantly, choose your agent wisely and train her to succeed spectacularly. Because after the dust clears, success is her only ticket out."
With a stricken expression, Sean said, "In other words, manipulate from afar, lie twice as fast as I do now and forget I have a conscience."
"Yes. Work on your poker face and your eyes. The higher you go in the service, the longer you need to keep that mask up and the more convincing it has to be," said Philip.
"Maybe we'll change. Masks won't be necessary."
"I doubt it. For as long as I remember, the service does the dirty work. The politicians get the credit. The diplomats get the satisfaction of seeing their names printed in the history books."
"That seems so one-sided."
"No one said life was fair," said Philip. "We get a reward of sorts. If we're lucky, we get to retire, forget about all this and live some semblance of a normal life. Someday I may have a family."
"Families are for suckers. I'll never give up my freedom."
"Families and relationships can complicate things but they are a reward in themselves. That's what I've been told anyway." Philip took the dossier folder out of his coat and handed it to Sean. "Good luck, Sean. This will be the first and last time we speak of Operation Brimstone. You understand?"
Sean did not respond. He took the dossier and turned away. He began to trudge back to his car. He did not look back.
In the present, Sean shifted in his seat. Sleep wasn't going to solve his problem. He ordered coffee. Under his breath he said, "I screwed up, Phil. Big time. I could use some advice right about now."
He took out a small notepad and began to scribble notes and To Dos. Through the long flight he dozed periodically. When he was awake, he sifted through possible options. He had a higher chance of failure than success but he was determined to try. This was his mess. He had to make things right.