Death and Conspiracy

by Seeley James

  The light beaming through the window was high on the opposite wall, meaning the sun outside was low. They’d driven us around for a long time with hoods on our heads to disorient us. We’d lost most of the afternoon.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You checked on the surveillance gear, and they jumped you?”

  “They were smart. They didn’t wreck it; they knocked a couple cameras sideways to make it look like a goat had done it. I went out before dawn. They’d been waiting for me all night.”

  The roving mobs of conference attendees had been looking to ambush my team. I should’ve seen that and warned them.

  “Miguel knows you’re here?” I asked.

  “You know him. He’ll rescue us. He’s a one-man wrecking crew.”

  “You have someone on the outside?” Arrianne asked with the first hint of hope in her voice since we left her place. “He can save us?”

  The door clanked open. A hulking shadow filled the frame. They gave the shadow a shove.

  Miguel landed in a heap on the floor next to Arrianne. His wrists and ankles were bound just like ours.

  Tania and I hopped over to our friend and squatted next to him. He’d taken a blow to the head. His unfocused eyes wandered over us. We pulled him up to sitting, which isn’t easy given his size.

  “This is your savior?” Arrianne burst into tears. “Oh, God, we’re dead.”

  “Don’t count him out,” I said. “He’s got skills. Mad skills.”

  Arrianne scooted back, not wanting to sit next to two non-white people.

  Tania gave her a once-over. “You know what? I served with men and women from all walks of life. All of them signed up to die for you. If you can’t hang with people who volunteered to pay the ultimate price to save your sorry ass from all threats foreign and domestic—you can just drop fucking dead.”

  Arrianne’s mouth fell open.

  I pulled the small, razor-sharp knife hidden in my belt buckle and carefully sawed through almost all of Tania’s bindings. She did the same for me. We left enough rope intact to keep the guards from noticing while being able to break free with a good tug. Miguel was waking from the bump on his head, but he grasped the plan.

  The door clanked again. It opened slowly. In the opening stood the pixie-silhouette of Nema holding a silver tea service in her hands.

  A guard with a Beretta AR70/90 stepped in front of her. He came down the steps brandishing his weapon. We understood and moved back. Behind him, covering from the top of the stairs was our jailer’s twin, also aiming a Beretta at our heads.

  Mercury said, The Hungarian brothers have itchy trigger fingers, brutha. No sudden moves.

  I said, I’d hoped to reason with them. Do they speak English?

  Not a lick. Mercury smiled. Good news is, no one around here can communicate with them. They’re not even sure what Nema’s doing here. I told you I’d level the playing field. A little.

  “Are you all right?” Nema tread cautiously down the steps with her tray. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Don’t pretend to care,” I said. “I know it’s you.”

  “What’s me?” She batted her eyes like a ’50s starlet.

  “You run Free Origins. You masterminded ROSGEO.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ethnopluralism,” I said. “You planned mass shootings thinking the result will be a race and religious war that will redraw geopolitical maps.”

  The look Nema gave Arrianne telegraphed a death sentence.

  Her gaze softened considerably when she turned back to me. “Did they beat you?”

  “When do you plan to start your little nightmare?”

  “You don’t look hurt.” She stepped closer and lifted the tray to me. “Tea? Take the cup nearest you.”

  Tania, Miguel and I hopped forward. I moved straight toward her. The other two used the opportunity to get closer to the guard while widening the separation from each other. The guard wasn’t a professional, but he instinctively knew their flanking maneuver wasn’t going to work out well for him. When he pointed his muzzle at Miguel to intimidate him, Tania moved closer.

  He realized his problem. He could only get one before the other tackled him. He nodded to his brother on the landing above. They adjusted their aim to cover both my friends.

  “I smell bitter almonds, Nema.” I gave her my soldier stare while she worked out what I was saying. “Army training includes a lot of how-not-to-get-killed-by-the-enemy seminars. I learned how to smell cyanide.”

  Arrianne gasped. “Oh my God, Nema. How could you?”

  “Shut up.” Nema threw the tea service at me. I batted it aside. She glared at Arrianne. “Your treachery sealed your fate. Paladin has decided how to deal with you.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to stop you,” Arrianne shrieked.

  “We found Tyler.” Nema’s voice turned hard and cold. “Poor little Tyler is safe now.”

  Arrianne froze, then sobbed and turned away.

  “When is ROSGEO?” I asked.

  “They’re on their way here for you.” Nema gave me her big eyes. “Paladin has plans for you.”

  “Why not have them shoot me?” I nodded at the Hungarians.

  “We don’t trust them. They might talk.” She threw daggers at Arrianne with her gaze. “Some people have no loyalty.”

  “Why ethnopluralism?”

  “Come with me, Jacob.” Nema stepped close. “Paladin has a plan for you. A glorious plan. We’ll keep your friends here in case you don’t put your back into it.”

  I said, “I’d rather die in the company of honorable people than help you.”

  “We aren’t going to kill you. It’s the colored people and the Muslims who are killing us all. I’m offering you a chance to do something about it.”

  “That’s your excuse for killing thousands of innocent people?” I asked.

  “I don’t need an excuse.” She jutted out her jaw. “I’m sick of people judging me. I hate walking in the street where people judge my body. I hate the rich ladies who judge my clothes. I hate my family for judging what kind of girl I am. Paladin’s going to fix this broken world. He’s going to set it all straight.”

  Her outburst about judging didn’t fit in the conversation. It had to have been about her rape. That was driving her hatred. How it fit together wasn’t clear.

  She prowled around me like a predator. “People like you are pathetic. White people can’t stand still and let an invasion of animals with violence in their DNA interbreed with our kind. You don’t see eagles breeding with owls or coyotes breeding with hyenas, do you?”

  “For your analogy to be relevant,” I said, “you’d need to correlate Western Coyotes breeding with Central Coyotes, and yes, that happens all the time. But what are you talking about, violence in DNA?”

  “Black people are more violent. Proven by criminal statistics.” Nema pointed at Tania. “She’s more violent than our kind.”

  “Name three black serial killers.”

  Nema stared and frowned and stammered.

  “I’ll spot you the first one, Wayne Williams, Atlanta. On the white side, there’s Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and a long, long list. Then there’re the mass shootings like Las Vegas, El Paso, Sandy Hook, which are dominated by American men. But after ROSGEO, you’ll be the worst.”

  “I’m not a serial killer.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Only because Ace and Diego failed.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with them. Those guys were acting alone when—”

  “How did you know who I’m talking about? The press didn’t release their codenames. I got them from a CIA agent who’s been tracking you guys for a year.”

  Nema staggered back a step with her hand over her mouth.

  Tania piped up. “We found Diego’s family. His real name was Sergio Navas. He had a little shrine to Nema in his room. He was in love with her.”

  Nema’s eyes registered recognition at Diego�
�s real name.

  “Did he know she didn’t care about him?” I asked Tania.

  “Hell no.”

  “Shut up!” Nema yelled. “I hate the world and everyone in it. You’re all falling for the plot to replace us. The Jews and the Muslims and the Mexicans are replacing the white people in every country. They’re like a plague of locusts. You can’t stop them with walls or laws. Paladin has a plan to make them all go back where they came from. I’m with him a hundred percent. My family blamed me for what happened. To hell with them. To hell with everyone else too. It’s time for Paladin to turn the world black. Everything. Turn it all black. Black out the sun, blot out the sky. Turn the streets black with drying blood. You can’t talk me out of it. He promised me a year ago not to let another Pentecost pass without acting.”

  Mercury looked over her shoulder. Tell me you heard that about blame, homie.

  I said, I heard it. I don’t know what it means, but I’m counting on you to tell me later.

  Like everyone else, I only know the world I see from inside my head. Once in a great while, I feel how others might feel in a certain situation. Empathy. I feel connected to that person afterward. The hate Nema just spewed gave me one of those windows into how she felt. I didn’t feel connected to her at all. While the anger she ejected was the result of a rape, she had intentionally cultivated and nurtured that hatred. At some point, she actively chose to become evil.

  I said, “Don’t blame Paladin. You run the show. You call the shots. And you alone can stop it.”

  “You’re still wrong about me,” she snarled. “You don’t know shit.”

  “You know what gave it away? You blew it the morning Arrianne caught us in bed together. You wanted me to cozy up to you, tell you about the rosary. Tell you what we look for when we’re hunting terrorists. I never answered those questions because I never intended to help you. That frustrated you. That’s why you wanted me to hold you all night long. You figured if I wouldn’t fall for Arrianne, maybe I’d fall for you. It didn’t work. And you lost your cool in the morning. You called me a hired hand. Peers don’t see each other that way. Bosses do. No one believes Paladin is running anything. We know it’s you, Nema. You’re the only one who can stop ROSGEO.”

  “I won’t stop anything.”

  Nema would never change her mind. I had all the information I needed to stop the tragedy from unfolding. I knew what ROSGEO was, and when it would happen. It was time to go. I gave Tania the nod. She broke her shackles and threw Nema into the Hungarian. His head banged off the pillar behind him with a sickening thud.

  At the same time, Miguel bolted up the stairs. The second Hungarian looked shocked at the turn of events and raised his rifle. He fumbled the safety and mode selector, which saved Miguel’s life. That extra second was all Miguel needed to tackle the man.

  I grabbed Arrianne’s hand and tugged before realizing I hadn’t sliced her ropes. Tania was bounding up the steps. I pulled my knife out and started cutting. In the corner, Nema started pulling herself together. She grabbed the rifle out of the Hungarian’s hands. I freed Arrianne’s wrists.

  “I’ll shoot.” Nema leveled the rifle at me.

  From the top of the steps, Miguel aimed the other rifle at her but wisely held his fire. In our stone dungeon, a ricochet could kill any one of us.

  I kept working on the bindings around Arrianne’s ankles.

  Nema fired a bullet. As predicted, shooting inside a stone chamber turned out to be a terrible idea. The round flew past my ear and ricocheted six times in a thousandth of a second. Everyone ducked. Nema didn’t look up until the danger was over.

  “Run,” Arrianne said. “Leave me.”

  The Hungarian pulled a sidearm. He was still too woozy to shoot but coming around fast. If I stuck around long enough to kill Nema, he’d kill me.

  I finished Arrianne’s ankle ropes, grabbed her wrist, and headed for the steps.

  Mercury stepped in front of me with a deformed bullet in the palm of his hand. He said, You’re welcome.

  His eyes moved from mine to the bullet and back.

  Oh for crying out loud, I said. Luck. You catch a random break, and then you want me to believe it was divine intervention?

  CHAPTER 30

  I bounded up the steps with Arrianne right behind me. Miguel aimed his weapon at Nema to cover us.

  Nema screamed her anger. It rattled the stones and echoed through the house. Miguel slammed the door and bolted it from the outside.

  We were in the hallway of an empty wine cellar. Ancient wooden racks stood empty as if they’d been robbed. The second Hungarian lay on the floor. His pockets had been turned inside out.

  “Shoot her,” I said and pointed Miguel at Nema.

  He showed me the rifle he’d taken from the man. The charging handle was bent into the upper receiver. I glanced at the Hungarian and saw a matching dent in his forehead. Miguel had taken the weapon from him and knocked him unconscious with it. And damaged our only weapon in the process. He shrugged.

  Stranger things have happened during life-and-death struggles. Not many, though.

  Half a magazine of bullets flew through the wood next to us. Splinters flew around us. Nema must’ve realized we were just beyond the door and that her bullets wouldn’t ricochet if she fired through the wood.

  “Let’s go.” Tania disappeared around the corner. Arrianne followed her.

  We found ourselves in a large and aging hacienda. Red-tile floors stretched across a large dining room. We ran through it to the living room. It opened onto a courtyard full of flowers glowing in the warm light of dusk. Walkways crisscrossed between flowerbeds. The house enclosed the entire courtyard.

  “Where’s the exit?” I asked.

  “Ask that good-for-nothing god of yours,” Tania sneered. “If he exists.”

  Miguel faced Arrianne, turning the question to her.

  “How would I know?” Arrianne answered. “I’ve never been here before, I only heard about it. This is where Paladin and his crew stayed.”

  She turned to Tania. “What god are you talking about?” Then me. “Jacob, you’re a Christian man, aren’t you?”

  I said, “It’s possible.”

  We ran from doorway to doorway, looking in each room for a foyer or a front door.

  “This is a nice place,” I said. “You didn’t rent this for the conference.”

  “A donor let them use it. The guy who owns this orchard loves Free Origins. He’s in Madrid for the month.”

  Miguel found the exit. From the house only. It led us to a much larger farmyard. It was a cobblestone space the size of a football field surrounded by machine sheds and barns. Behind them, surrounding the entire compound, stood a wall fifteen feet high topped with razor wire. At the far end of the farmyard, a large gate made of solid iron sat on steel wheels. Its upper support frame was the only place on the wall devoid of deadly wire. In the middle of the yard, a black VW Tiguan waited for us.

  We ran to it and got in. Tania landed in the driver’s seat. She checked the console and the visor and under the mats. “How come in the movies, the convenient car always has keys in the ignition?” She looked at us. “Someone have the keys?”

  “The guy I tackled didn’t have any,” Miguel said. “I didn’t see any on the counters near him either.”

  We all leaned to the middle. In unison, we said, “Nema.”

  Mercury howled with laughter. Ah, homie. When you guys run for it, you really know how to roll. Leave the keys in the pocket of the only person around who has a loaded—and working—machine gun.

  I said, Now would be a good time for divine intervention. Can you help me out?

  He said, I already leveled the playing field for you and gave you a couple good chances. The other gods are satisfied this is an honest game now. So, you gotta get out on your own. Good luck, brutha.

  I said, Good luck? You bet against me.

  Mercury laughed as he rose into the sky on his little flappy wings. Bastard.
>
  Just when the gods restore your faith in their benevolent powers, they remind you that your life is just a game to them.

  We got out and scattered in different directions as Nema and one of the Hungarians came out of the hacienda. Miguel leveled his rifle at them, keeping the damaged charging handle from view, which forced them to duck.

  Somewhere beyond the compound, the sun painted the western sky in oranges and yellows. Dark approached but not quickly enough to use it against our pursuers.

  A machine shed with a half-open door looked like a good spot to me. I ran in with Arrianne hot on my heels. To my disappointment, I learned the Spanish weren’t big on back doors to their sheds. We ducked behind a giant tractor with a strange device on the front. It had what looked like cloth scoops that would fan out to either side. An olive harvester.

  When I peered around the five-foot tire, I found a big, black man standing in front of me. He wore a bronze breastplate, a cape, and a skirt. A manly skirt, but still.

  I said, Let me guess. You’re Mars, god of war.

  The giant smiled.

  I closed my eyes. I gotta take my meds. Gotta take my meds. Gotta take my meds …

  He tapped me on the shoulder, caught my gaze, then nosed at the tractor. The keys were in it. Which didn’t matter because a twelve-year-old could outrun a tractor. Then he nosed at the wall. A spool of baling twine hung on a peg among a bunch of tools. Different from the kind most people keep in the kitchen junk drawer, baling twine holds thousand-pound bales of hay together. It would work fine.

  I looked back at Mars. Thanks.

  I grabbed the twine and a pair of sheers off the wall. I climbed up to the tractor and fired it up. Arrianne followed me into the enclosed cab and sat on a toolbox next to me. I pushed the throttle forward and knocked the meager barn door off the entrance.

  We crossed the farmyard to the barn where I’d last seen Miguel. He and Tania ran out and climbed onboard.

  Bullets pinged off the back. I didn’t mind. Tractors are made to weigh a lot. It keeps them grounded when they’re hauling heavy loads in mud or rain-slicked fields. The back ends are always big chunks of steel. You can accessorize with additional steel plates. This one had three steel plates on the back and five on the front. Nema whittled down her ammo figuring that out.