The Hand of War

by Blake Banner

  We began to move. He pressed a button on the side of the table and a concealed TV screen rose and winked into life. It was CNN and Alia Fadel was standing outside the UN Headquarters on First Avenue, holding a microphone and speaking. Behind her the cops, in bright yellow reflective jackets, had the road sealed off and there were half a dozen patrol cars, a SWAT van, and a couple of CSI vans all parked in the plaza inside the gates. She was frowning as she spoke.

  “…nobody really knows what’s going on, Don. Everybody you talk to has a different story. There are lots of theories, lots of opinions, but so far there are very few facts, and those that there are, are very jealously guarded.

  “What we do know is that patrolman Bill Dwight and his partner Maria Portillo arrested a man on the request of Director David Staines. Now, David Staines is not at present available for comment, nobody is very sure where he is, however, witnesses at the scene say they saw officers Portillo and Dwight lead away a man in handcuffs, put him in a patrol car, and then drive out of the UN complex onto First Avenue. And here is where it starts to get strange, because only moments later, the patrol car returned, with its sirens on, and patrolwoman Portillo and the man she had ostensibly arrested stormed into the UN building shouting that there was a bomb. Several witnesses have stated that at this point, the man was claiming to be FBI Special Agent Harrison Mclean. The FBI have made no comment so far.

  “Whether there was or not a bomb is as yet unconfirmed, but security guards who were present at the time have told me that they saw the bomb with their own eyes, and that they watched the man claiming to be Agent Mclean disarm it. They also claim, and hold on to your hat, Don, that it was a tactical nuclear device concealed in a wheelchair. Experts from the Bomb Disposal Unit are currently in the General Assembly Hall, apparently examining the alleged bomb, but so far they have not issued a statement…”

  Ben was rigid, staring at me. “You have no idea, Lacklan, how angry I am right now.”

  I gave a single nod. “I am glad to hear it.”

  He closed his eyes and steadied his breath. “At least,” he said, “you performed this much of your part of the bargain.” He gestured to Marni.

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. I told her to go to Boston.”

  He echoed my single nod. “I see. Give me one reason why I should not kill each one of you.”

  I exploded. “You’re out of your fucking mind, Ben! The only reason we, and a hundred thousand other people, are not dead is because I managed to dismantle that goddamn bomb! What fucking planet are you on?”

  We had reached the runway and now the jet stopped and the engines began to scream as they prepared for takeoff. Next thing, we were accelerating down the runway and rising up into the sky above New Jersey. I stared at him in silence throughout, then said, “What? You’re so mad at me for not letting you kill us, that now you want to kill us?”

  “You know, sometimes you are a very stupid man, Lacklan. If you had stayed at the Institute, as you were supposed to, you would not have been at risk. Did it ever occur to you that I might have put you there for your own protection?” I had no answer for that and he went on, “And as for Marni and Professor Gibbons, if they had accepted our invitation in the first place, to join us and work with us, they would not have been at risk, either. You were all three at the UN against my advice.”

  Marni turned on him. “You were planning to murder hundreds of thousands of people! How can you sit there and tell us off—like children—for spoiling your monstrous plan? It’s inhuman! How can you live with yourself?”

  He gazed at her and shook his head. “I am far too angry to even try to reason with you right now, Marni. I need to spend some time meditating and re-center myself. But you should know that you have both caused us a very serious setback.”

  I burst out laughing. “You say that as though we should feel sorry.” I frowned at him. I had the strange feeling that I was talking to somebody who didn’t speak the same language as me, like I needed to articulate everything very carefully in order to make myself understood. “It has always been our intention to screw up your plans, Ben! You must know that! What is the matter with you?”

  He took a deep breath. “I guess I thought, after our recent conversations, that I was beginning to get through to you. I thought we were beginning to have some kind of…” He hesitated, like he was searching for an appropriate word. He shook his head again. “Some kind of understanding. Obviously I was wrong.”

  I nodded. “Yes, Ben, you were wrong. Perhaps the number of Omega operatives I have killed should have been a clue. Now, would you mind explaining to me what the hell we are doing on this plane? The woman at Teterboro told me you were waiting for me…”

  He shrugged. “People die. If society could learn to accept this simple fact, the world might be a healthier place. The fact that you killed so many of our operatives told me nothing except that you are exceptionally good at what you do.”

  Marni looked away. I sighed.

  Ben went on. “And I might add, Lacklan, that there is more than just a hint of hypocrisy in your holier-than-thou attitude toward Omega. For you, of all people, to accuse us of murder is a little rich.”

  He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The big flight attendant approached. “Bring me another martini, and whatever they want.”

  I ordered a Bushmills and Marni just shook her head and stared out the window. I asked, “Where are you taking us, Ben? What are you going to do with us?”

  “I am taking you to D.C. I want you both to meet somebody.”

  Marni turned her head and looked from me to Ben. “Both?”

  “You and Lacklan. Professor Gibbons… We have different plans for him.”

  She looked alarmed. “What plans?”

  “It’s none of your concern, Marni. But in any case, I will fill you in when we are sure of how to move forward. Plans are in a bit of a state of chaos at the moment.”

  He loaded the words with irony, like he was trying to guilt-trip her. I said, “Who do you want us to meet?”

  “Someone who might help you to acquire a slightly more global perspective.”

  “What does that mean, Ben? You want us to learn how to justify killing a million people?”

  He held my gaze for a long moment, then said, “Or two million, or twenty, or a hundred. The number is not important. Let me ask you something, Lacklan, as you like to preach so much about right and wrong. Is it twice as bad to kill two people as one? How do you measure that? Is it worse to kill a mother and her child than it is to kill ten men? What if one of those men is Mahatma Gandhi, and the child will grow up to be Ted Bundy?” He gestured at me with his open hand. “You murder indiscriminately in the name of your crusade, to stop what you see as Omega’s evil plans. But what if by doing that, you are driving humanity toward extinction? What if our project is the only way to save humanity? Which one of us, then, is the evil one?”

  I had no answer. Or if I had, I had no idea how to articulate it. Marni covered her face with her hands. Her voice came out muffled. “You cannot justify the indiscriminate murder of hundreds of thousands of people. There is no justification for an act like that!” She uncovered her face and looked at him. “How can you not see that?”

  He frowned at her. “Who says I don’t see it?”

  “What?”

  “I see it more clearly than you do, Marni. For you it is an emotional impulse driven by a primal instinct to protect the tribe. But we are so far beyond the point where we can think in those terms! Look around you. We are hurtling toward eight billion people. About four and a half million people are added to the population—net!—every month! Feeding them requires massive industrial production and distribution, a process which is destroying the very environment we need in order to feed these people! We are parasites, Marni! And we are killing our host!” He sank back in his seat. “Now I ask you, do you kill that child, knowing he will grow up to be Ted Bundy or Adolph Hitler, or do you let him live, knowing wha
t he will do when he grows to adulthood?”

  Marni screwed up her face and turned away from him. “You’re sick!”

  He shook his head. “No, I am not sick, Marni. What I am asking you to look at and recognize is sick. I am no more sick than the surgeon who removes a cancerous lung.”

  I sighed at him. “How does killing half of Manhattan help the world to survive overpopulation and climate change?”

  He nodded. “That is a good question, but I am going to save the answer for tomorrow. We have some very serious business to transact in the morning, and you have a very important person to meet. For now, there are two things that I need you to do. The first is this. I would like you both to discuss, very seriously, how you would change Omega’s policy toward climate change and overpopulation. I am not playing you, this is a genuine request.”

  I frowned, hard. All my alarm bells were going like crazy. Marni looked stunned, then turned, looked at Gibbons, and back at Ben.

  “What about Philip?”

  He ignored her and switched the TV back on. We were still at the UN and in the background you could see a gurney being wheeled out of the main doors toward a waiting ambulance. Alia Fadel was talking to the camera and pointing back toward the scene that was unfolding behind her.

  “…this latest news has taken everybody by surprise. It is a huge blow to international efforts to get the world to agree on an agenda for sustainable growth, and a terrible shock for the international community. Professor Philip Gibbons was, despite his controversial and often confrontational style, highly respected and well liked. His contribution to this ill-fated conference was, according to his colleagues, going to change the face of international politics and world economy. Exactly why he was murdered by the man posing as Agent Mclean is as yet unclear, as is the whereabouts of his young protégé, Dr Marni Gilbert, whose own contribution to the conference was, apparently, going to have at least as seismic an effect as Professor Gibbons’. He will be sorely missed…”

  He switched off the TV.

  I shook my head. “You bastard. You’re going to kill him and blame it on me…”

  He shrugged. “That is very much up to you and Marni. You have a lot of soul-searching to do over the next few hours.” He glanced at his watch. “I have arranged accommodation for you both in Chain Bridge Road, between Palisades and Wesley Heights. You’ll be very comfortable there. Gibbons will come with us to sleep off his mild intoxication.” He glanced at me. “He has very powerful friends, Lacklan, as I have mentioned to you before. They will not be pleased. All of his suspicions about you will have been confirmed.” He turned to Marni. “And I am afraid they’ll be wondering about you, too.” He sighed. “What becomes of him is up to you. What becomes of all three of you, is up to you. Despite what you think, we are not in the business of destroying people for the fun of it. We would much rather have the three of you onside. So please, spend this afternoon and tonight productively, and when we meet tomorrow, be prepared to tell us how you would change Omega if you could. Your lives, and Professor Gibbons’ life, depend on it.”

  We had started to descend toward D.C. He reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he slid across the table to me.

  “The address of your house and two sets of keys. You will be under surveillance, but you will not be controlled or stopped if you attempt to go away. You are not prisoners. All that will happen is that I will be informed. A car will come to collect you tomorrow at two PM, after lunch. If you don’t come to the meeting, Professor Gibbons will be executed.”

  Twenty

  Chain Bridge Road was not so much leafy as wooded, and not so much suburban as semi-rural. Our house was set back from the road, among plane trees and pines, with a crescent driveway to the front door. It was a big, stone affair, painted cream, with blue, gabled slate roofs and tall chimneypots that poked up among the trees toward a perfect blue sky.

  Marni paid the driver while I unlocked the heavy, blue wooden door. Somewhere a rook, or it may have been a raven, cawed like he thought what I had done might have consequences. Bad ones.

  I stepped in. It wasn’t super luxury, but it was spacious and comfortable in a pleasant, old world sort of way. There was a big hall with a broad, oak staircase that climbed to the upper floors. A dark, wooden door on the left led to a large living room with an red brick fireplace and the kind of cozy furniture you’d expect from a New England cottage. At the far end, there was a long dining table, and behind it French windows stood open onto a mature garden with stone steps leading down to a well-tended lawn, and a pond. The raven who had laughed at me was now strutting across that lawn, like he owned it.

  There was a tray of drinks on a credenza, a couple of large, well stocked bookcases, and a smell of baking coming from somewhere. I turned to look at Marni, who had come in behind me. I smiled. “Welcome home.”

  She gave a humorless snort. “You think it’s bugged?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s not?”

  She shrugged. “You think they abducted Rosalia and Kenny too, and they have them baking in the kitchen?”

  As if in response to her question, there was a tap at the door and an agreeable woman in her forties looked in and smiled. “Good afternoon, are you Mr. and Mrs. Walker?”

  Marni gave a single shout of laughter and pointed at me. “He is Mr. Walker, I am Dr. Gilbert. Who are you?”

  The woman looked startled. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Dr. Gilbert. I am Mrs. Henderson. I’m almost finished in the kitchen and I have done upstairs…” She hesitated. “According to the instructions I was sent…”

  Marni smiled. “Sure, Mrs. Henderson. I didn’t mean to bark. That’s great, thank you.”

  “Pie’s in the oven. It needs an hour. Can I get you anything before I go?”

  We told her we’d be fine and watched her through the leaded bow window as she cycled away, along the wooded lane. When she’d disappeared from view, Marni turned to me and looked up into my face.

  “Lacklan, they are insane. What is this? Tell me you think they’re insane as well.”

  I nodded. “I do. I think they are out of their minds.”

  “Cozy country house, French windows onto the lawn, Mrs. Henderson cooking us pies, and tactical nuclear bombs at the United Nations…” She shook her head. “Excuse me?”

  I laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh, it was a bitter one. I dropped into one of the overstuffed armchairs and a wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. “You think they’re trying to make a point?”

  She watched me from the window. “What point?”

  “I don’t know. This represents their core values, the bomb represents what they are forced to do in order to achieve those values?”

  “You buy that shit?”

  I sighed. “No, Marni! I’m the guy who just nearly got vaporized diffusing the bomb, remember?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Lacklan, that was stupid.” She came and sat in the chair opposite me, then said, “No, I don’t think they are making a point. I think they are just insane.”

  I shrugged. “Is it so different?”

  “So different to what?”

  “To what so-called legitimate governments do. They send men like me to Afghanistan and Iraq to hunt and kill human beings, they allow multinational corporations to devastate the rainforests, support child slavery, exploit African mines in states where twelve-year-old kids are taught how to behead people and use assault rifles. They allow banks like ITCD to launder the Sinaloa’s drug profits. And meanwhile, the men and women who make billions out of all this chaos and cruelty sip champagne in mansions, spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a single suit or dress, and shoot two hundred thousand dollar sports cars to Mars for fun.” I shrugged again. “I don’t think Omega is any more insane than our legitimate governments. I think Omega is just the distillation of everything that is our society. It is our society taken to its logical extreme. Are they any more insane than, say, the Third Reich, o
r North Korea? If anything, they are less extreme.”

  She was frowning at me. “Are you apologizing for them?”

  “Again, no. All I am saying is that, however offensive they may be—and to me they are very offensive—they are not as weird as they may appear. Human beings behave in very strange ways when they become extremely rich and powerful. Jesus! Look at the Bohemian Grove! The Pizza scandal, Wyss…” I spread my hands. “Need I go on?”

  She sounded uneasy. “No, but what’s your point?”

  “I don’t know, no real point, just that we shouldn’t see them as something freakish or abnormal. I think they represent the status quo.”

  Now she looked unhappy and changed the subject. “What about this request of Ben’s, that we prepare a statement on how we would alter Omega?”

  I sighed. “It’s pretty cynical.”

  “They’re trying to lure us in, like your dad.”

  I nodded. After a moment, I said, “His big regret, when he died, was that he allowed them to do that.”

  Her gaze was lost in the garden behind me. The raven was still cawing. The smaller birds ignored him and chattered, like gossiping mothers in a storybook world where owls read books and bunnies make tea. She puffed out her cheeks and said, “I believe you. My only recommendation for how they could improve would be for them all to make like lemmings and jump.”

  I gave a small laugh. “I don’t think that would be very helpful, somehow.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Helpful?”

  “Marni, I can’t remember the last time I slept. I am more tired than I can describe. Please don’t jump down my throat every time I say something that isn’t perfectly expressed.”

  She raised both hands. “My bad. You want to get some sleep.”

  “I think I have to, but we need to give some very serious thought to what Ben has asked us to do. The implications if we do it, and if we don’t, need to be very carefully examined.”

  She leaned forward, with her elbows on her knees, and rubbed her face. “If we go there tomorrow and offer him a range of proposals aimed at how we think Omega could improve, that will do three things. One, it will be an acknowledgment that we believe Omega can improve to a point where we would consider joining it; two, it will allow them to appear to meet our requirements and entice us to join; and three, it will allow them to engage us in a dialogue, effectively a cease-fire. It will give them a beachhead and allow them to try to seduce us, drive a wedge between us… You name it!”