Author's Notes:
Welcome back readers to the seventh installment of my story!
If you haven't read the previous chapters, I recommend that you do so before continuing. Little effort is made to explain references to earlier events and characters (of which, there are a lot). This chapter picks up directly after chapter 6.
Standard disclaimer: Please, if you like the story, or if you don't like the story, take a moment to comment. It's especially helpful if you have something constructive to add. It helps me quite a bit to see the story through others' eyes.
Finally, as always, all sexual activity takes place between adults.
-MB
*****
Even with the foreknowledge of what he was about to witness, the video Jordan provided was a shock to the system for Carson. He wondered,
How can they possibly be so callous about this?
As the video played, he surreptitiously observed Edwards's face. Given the man's history, he thought this was probably about as painful a thing to endure as possible. At the same time, he also possessed a unique perspective on what
Eisenfaust
was doing.
Tilda watched in silence as well, and while her face showed the appropriate level of horror, he could also see that she felt a little bit of vindication of her theory about the existence of the cabal.
When the video ended, Carson cleared his throat. "So. Any idea on how we're going to stop them?" he asked.
"We need to proceed cautiously," counselled Tilda. "We don't know the extent of their reach, and if we tip them off too early, who knows what they'll do."
Carson nodded in agreement, turning his attention to his gentle giant. "What do you think, Edwards?"
Before replying, Edwards carefully brushed an imagined piece of lint from his slacks. "There was a long-serving head of state through much of the 20
th
century in Ethiopia, named Haile Selassie. Some people thought he was a messiah. He once said, 'Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted, the indifference of those who should have known better, the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most, that has made it possible for evil to triumph.' These people and their plan are obviously evil; I don't believe that we have a choice in acting. But I agree with Ms. Grimaldi, we must proceed with caution."
"How should we proceed, then?" asked Carson. "I don't have any experience at spying, and I'm afraid that I would only cause problems."
Tilda spoke up. "Let me get some people I trust working on this from the SSH. I'll keep it small, maybe three or four people, but we'll see if we can't figure out what the end goal is. Maybe there's a way we can disrupt the process somehow."
Edwards shook his head. "That's not enough," he said. He looked Carson in the eye. "We are now in a battle for the very survival of the human race. We face an enemy that is entrenched and has unknown strength." Turning his head towards Tilda, he said, "By all means, gather intelligence, Ms. Grimaldi." Returning his focus to Carson, he continued, "But we must also begin to
attack
the enemy. We are a small force, right now, so we cannot afford to confront them directly. But we can follow the guerrilla insurgency model. We must use propaganda and social networking to our advantage for political purposes, and we must take direct action against the support structure for their organization."
"Are you suggesting we organize an armed response?" asked Tilda.
"Not exactly, Ms. Grimaldi. More like a tactical operations unit that could damage their businesses and operations centers."
Tilda looked thoughtful. She turned to Carson. "I know some people who might fit the bill. They won't come cheap, though."
Before he could reply, Edwards interrupted. "With all due respect, I spent a number of years performing
exactly
the kinds of operations we're in need of, against the enemies of my home country. I could have a team together by the end of the week who are already well-versed in indirect warfare tactics." He leaned forward, a deadly fire in his eyes. "Please, sir, let me handle this side of the conflict. Let me be your field commander in this. I will not let you down."
Carson looked at each of them in turn. Considering what he knew of each of them, he tended towards agreement with Edwards. He should be the tactical commander, while Tilda handled intelligence. The thought also occurred to him that once he initiated these activities, there was no stopping short of complete victory. Anything else would result in either subjugation, or eventual annihilation, of the human race. He shivered at the immense weight of responsibility he was assuming for himself.
He looked at Edwards and said, "Get me the best team you can find. We will need to work in the physical world, but also in the digital world. We need to begin to shrink their resources, cut off their supplies. They need to be isolated, but in a way that keeps them in the dark as to who their adversary is."
Refocusing on Tilda, he continued, "We need to find out everything we can about Clemente, Lund, and especially van Heuval, and their holdings. Where are their weaknesses? Where are they vulnerable? And most importantly, we need to figure out as much as we can about their plan and if we can stop or reverse it. You'll be my intelligence chief, and Edwards will be my field commander."
Standing up, he asked, "Any questions?"
Edwards and Tilda exchanged a quick glance before each responded in the negative. "All right, then," said Carson. "Let's go try and save the world."
A few minutes after his 'generals' walked out, Corinne entered and began tidying things up. "Can I do anything for you, Mr. Jayne?" she asked. There was no discernable innuendo in her question.
She hasn't called me 'Mr. Jayne' when it's just the two of us since maybe her second week on the job
, he thought.
I've really hurt her, despite my best intentions
. He crossed the short distance to where she was working. As he did so, she studiously avoided making eye contact.
He took her hand and said, "Stop." She froze, but still refused to meet his gaze. She might not be one of his Lionesses, but it still hurt him to know that he'd caused her pain. Softly, he said, "Sit with me? Please?"
He slowly sank onto the couch, and a moment later, she joined him. The cleaning rag was clenched in her fist, her fist held firmly in her lap. She sat stiffly, an invisible chasm between them.
