by Siegel, Alex
"Carlos is a mystery to me," Aaron said. "I do know he scares the shit out of everybody else in the Society. Even Ethel doesn't like to be near him. When Marina saw him that one time, she freaked out."
Wesley remained sullen and quiet.
Aaron glanced at him. "Well? What is Carlos' gift?"
"He's been dead for thirty years."
"Huh?"
"The flesh inside turned to dust a long time ago," Wesley stated in a grim voice. "He's just an empty leather bag filled with God's hatred and bitter memories. He doesn't even have eyes. They're just holes in the dried skull of a corpse."
"That can't be right," Norbert said.
Wesley looked up at him. "I always tell the truth."
Norbert flinched. "If he's already dead, how can you kill him?"
"No ordinary weapon can do it. God cursed Carlos. He must walk the Earth for a hundred years after his natural life ended, and he has seventy years of misery to go."
"Why was he cursed?"
"He was a commander in Mexico," Wesley said. "His whole team was wiped out during a mission because of Carlos' incompetence and arrogance. Everybody died, even the assistants. Even worse, the secrecy of the Society was compromised. God raised Carlos from the dead to finish the mission. Afterwards, Carlos remained on Earth to atone for his failures."
Nobody spoke for the rest of the trip to the hotel. When they arrived in the parking lot, Aaron asked Norbert to drive the van down to the service elevator in the basement. Aaron led Wesley and the protection team in through the front lobby.
The foyer of the Rosemont Tower Hotel had black and gold carpeting with a hexagonal pattern. Partially concealed lighting cast subdued illumination, and heavily tinted windows kept out most of the sunlight. The walls were covered with gold colored stone tiles. Instead of a chandelier, there was a suspended sculpture made of glass and flowing water. The trickling of the water mixed with soft jazz background music.
The doorman snapped to attention when he saw Aaron's face. Aaron went straight to a front desk made of obsidian with gold leaf accents.
"Please call Mr. Rosenblum," he told the young female clerk. "Tell him Mr. Berrycloth needs to speak with him."
A minute later, a middle-aged man with a crown of sparse white hair hurried out through a door. He wore a charcoal gray business suit with a golden tie and a golden handkerchief in his pocket. His glasses had expensive titanium frames.
He smiled at Aaron. "Mr. Berrycloth, what can I do for you?"
"These are my good friends." Aaron nodded to Charles, Yvonne, Atalanta, and Carlos. "Give them the best suites available, and anything else they want. Any charges they incur should go against my personal account. I want their stay to be as comfortable as possible." Aaron faced the protection team. "Mr. Rosenblum is the manager of the hotel. If you feel your needs aren't being met to your satisfaction, talk to him directly."
Charles nodded politely. "Thank you."
"It will be my pleasure to take care of your friends, sir," Rosenblum said. "May I speak with you for a moment?" He pulled Aaron aside.
"What is it?" Aaron said.
"I was just going over the statements from accounting." Rosenblum leaned forward and lowered his voice. "They aren't good."
"Why?"
"I worked out the numbers. Even if we booked every room all the time, we would still lose money. Our costs are too high."
Aaron sighed. He didn't have time for this nonsense. "I appreciate your diligence, but this isn't a problem you need to worry about. I'm the owner. Let me watch the bottom line."
"You don't care if you lose money, sir?" Rosenblum furrowed his brow.
"I've seen the numbers, too. The financial situation here is tolerable. If you want to save some pennies, go ahead, but please, don't become an annoying cheapskate."
Rosenblum appeared confused.
"I hired you for two reasons," Aaron said. "First, you have an enormous amount of experience in hotel management. I can trust you to do your job properly without my oversight. Second, you have a reputation for discretion, so I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't give a shit about the money. The Rosemont Tower Hotel wasn't built to generate a profit. Just worry about the day to day operations and collect your generous salary."
"Why was this hotel built?"
Aaron lowered his voice. "Never ask that question."
He beckoned to Wesley, and the boy followed Aaron out of the lobby. They went into a long narrow corridor with a large mirror at the end. The protection team was left behind with Rosenblum.
"Always look at the mirror," Aaron said. "Check if anybody is following you."
Wesley nodded. "OK."
"The correct response for a legionnaire is 'yes, sir.'"
"Yes, sir."
There were small conference rooms on both sides of the hallway. Aaron took Wesley into one that appeared identical to the rest and closed the door. Six chairs with golden upholstery surrounded a black hexagonal table. There was a large display screen on the wall suitable for a computer.
Aaron turned on the display and used a remote to put in a special code number. The image switched to a mosaic of surveillance feeds.
"I'm double checking that we weren't followed. My security chief should be looking at the same images now. We can't be too careful. You know the standard Society safe house codes?"
"Yes, sir," Wesley said.
"We use the same system here. Now look at the camera and wave."
Aaron faced a huge piece of abstract sculpture which stood in the corner of the room. It was covered with tiny holes that reminded him of wood eaten by termites.
The entire room began to rise silently and smoothly. It emerged into a larger concrete chamber with a single elevator. Aaron and Wesley walked over to the elevator which was already open. The conference room descended to its original position behind them.
"That's cool," Wesley said.
Aaron nodded. "There are secrets everywhere in this hotel."
They entered the elevator. There were no floor buttons inside, but there was a keypad. Aaron punched in a combination. The elevator went up quickly.
"This elevator won't work unless somebody is carrying a Society phone," he said. "You have a phone, right?"
Wesley took a bulky gray phone out of his pocket. It looked even bigger than usual in his small hands.
"Don't forget to get all the numbers for my team," Aaron said. "You need to be able to call us, and we need to be able to call you. I'll also need the numbers for the protection team, just in case."
"Yes, sir."
The elevator reached the top of the building and the doors opened. They walked into the secure entry chamber with its intense lighting. The elevator from the basement led to the same place but used a different shaft.
Jack was sitting behind the glass. "Sir," he said, "is that who I think it is?"
"Yes," Aaron said. "He'll be living here for a while. Wesley, this is my security chief, Jack."
"Nice to meet you," Wesley said.
"And I noticed you came into the lobby with four other people," Jack said. "Are they who I think they are?"
Aaron nodded. "They'll be staying downstairs."
"Carlos, too?" Jack appeared very uncomfortable.
"Yes. Make a general announcement. I'm having a meeting in the conference room for the whole team right now."
Jack pressed a button, and a side door buzzed.
Aaron took Wesley into the hallway, down a couple of doors, and into the conference room. There was a huge oak table capable of seating twelve people comfortably. A pattern of shields and spears was carved into the edge all the way around. The matching chairs were still being manufactured, so folding metal chairs took their place instead. Empty bookshelves on the back wall would hold the tabella when they finally arrived. A grid of computer monitors hung on an end wall, but they were presently turned off.
"Sit," Aaron said.
As the team filed in and saw Wesley, their expressions turned to astonishm
ent. Everybody found a seat.
"Most of you saw this young man the last time he was in Chicago," Aaron said. "He's the Voice of Truth, of course."
"No!" Wesley said. "I don't use that name anymore. I'm just Wesley."
Aaron ignored him. "Also known as the Beacon of Light and the Child of Destiny. Apparently, he's joining our team as a legionnaire." He paused to allow that astonishing fact to sink in.
"Sir," Smythe said, "how is that going to work?"
"Very poorly, I expect. Wesley, let me reintroduce you to your teammates. Kamal is our scientist. Nancy is our mechanical genius. Norbert is a legionnaire and a good one. Thank you for that, by the way. Smythe is my second in command and a supernatural healer. The twins, Bethany and Leanna, are the newest members of the team. They're computer experts."
Wesley stared at the twins as if hypnotized by them. He stood up and walked around to stand in front of them. His mouth hung open as he continued to stare.
"You have the prettiest eyes," Leanna said. "They sparkle like little blue crystals."
Wesley turned to Aaron and said, "These women are very special."
"I know," Aaron said.
"No, very special."
"Indeed. Sit down."
Wesley sat but kept glancing at the twins.
"Sir," Nancy said, "I thought Wesley had a team of bodyguards."
"He does," Aaron said. "They're in the hotel below."
She looked down. "Carlos?"
"Him, too."
She lifted her feet and hugged her knees. For once, she stopped smiling.
"Wesley will sleep in one of the guest rooms here," Aaron said. "Treat him like a member of the team. That's what he wants. As long as I have everybody in one place, I'll mention something else. I may be recruiting a new legionnaire soon. She's a young black woman named Tawni Williams. Don't be surprised if you see her around in the near future."
"Sir," Bethany said, "we have some more information about her."
"Then tell everybody."
She pressed a button on the table. A panel slid back, and a keyboard and a mouse rose up from a hidden compartment. The computer monitors turned on. She typed very rapidly and called up the information she wanted in just a few seconds. A good picture of Tawni appeared on one of the monitors, and textual information filled the others.
"Tawni Elaine Williams," Bethany read. "Age twenty-five. Born on the west side of Chicago, just a mile from our old headquarters. Her parents never married. The records are unclear, but it appears they separated when Tawni was about one year-old. She continued to live with her mother.
"Tawni had mediocre grades in high school, which is strange because she scored at near genius level on standardized tests. She isn't stupid. She went to the University of Illinois at Chicago. Her mother couldn't afford to pay for Tawni's education, so she signed up for Army National Guard Tuition Assistance. Of course, she had to join the National Guard to be eligible. Her college grades varied wildly and inconsistently. It seems she simply chose to do well in some classes and not others. Before she finished her degree in biology, she was expelled for fighting with other students."
Aaron nodded. He was starting to see the pattern in Tawni's life.
Bethany continued, "She became a full-time member of the National Guard. They moved her around quite a bit, and she spent a year overseas. After three years of service, she was court-martialed for striking an officer with a baseball bat. Her sentence was three months in the stockade and a dishonorable discharge. She was released four months ago. She returned to the neighborhood where she grew up."
"And became the leader of the Lake Street Vigilantes," Aaron said.
"According to the police, the gang is responsible for twenty attacks on known criminals. I believe the actual number is much higher. Some of the more recent attacks resulted in serious injuries. Her methods are getting bolder and more violent."
"Thank you. This information is very helpful. Now I need you to locate Tawni for me. The police can't find her, but I have absolute confidence the Satin sisters will succeed where they failed."
Bethany smiled. "Yes, sir. We will."
Wesley suddenly perked up. "Where is Marina? Why isn't she here?"
"She's in San Francisco," Aaron said. "Ethel made Marina a commander."
"Huh?" Wesley appeared dismayed. "But you have to be together! You love her!"
"That's true, and she still loves me. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Sure. I mean, yes, sir."
"Follow me." Aaron looked at the rest of his team. "The meeting is adjourned."
He and Wesley took the long walk to the far end of headquarters. Aaron's private suite was in the north-east corner, and his office was just to the south of it.
As they walked, Wesley said, "Please, tell me about the twins, sir."
"They were born as the princesses of Satinia," Aaron said. "They became anti-revolutionaries and then fugitives. They fell into my hands during a mission. They could be the best hackers in the world."
"God's light shines very brightly on them."
"They have lots of conversations with God. They're working on some huge project with Him. It involves a lot of crazy math that I can't even begin to understand."
Wesley appeared lost in thought.
The doorway to Aaron's office was completely open. Custom doors wouldn't be delivered for another two weeks. He led Wesley through the wide opening.
Most of Aaron's office was still in boxes, but he had his new desk. It was made entirely of a metal alloy cast in thick plates. The metal had a smoky gray appearance, was extremely durable, and would never corrode. The desk would probably outlast the building itself.
A gray curtain hung on a wall with a stool in front of the curtain. A studio quality video camera was aimed at the spot, and a giant television was mounted on a stand beside the camera. Aaron turned on the equipment.
"What's this?" Wesley said.
"A secure video conference system," Aaron said. "It lets Marina and I see each other. It's better than just talking over the phone." He sat on the stool. "Stand beside me."
Wesley shook his head. "A video conference isn't good enough. You need to be with her. It's very important. You're meant for each other."
"Circumstances make that impossible. We do visit each other."
"How often?"
"Just once so far," Aaron said. "We're both extremely busy. The San Francisco cell was a total mess when she took over. But we intend to see each other at least one weekend a month after our lives settle down."
Wesley's spectacular blue eyes stared at Aaron with obvious disapproval. "I don't like this."
"It's the best we can do," Aaron said. "A lot of people are relying on us, including the entire populations of two territories. Twenty-two million people. And why am I justifying myself to you? You work for me now."
Wesley scowled but remained quiet.
At first, the television showed just a gray curtain and a stool in San Francisco. After a couple of minutes, Marina moved into the frame. She wore the formal gray robes of a commander which still struck Aaron as odd. He knew the thought was sexist, but she was far too beautiful to bear such a crushing responsibility. The expensive video equipment did a nice job of reproducing the lustrous green in her eyes. He could see the individual strands of her strawberry blonde hair held back by a black ribbon tied in a bow. Freckles on her nose made her seem mischievous.
"Aaron," she said, "I'm sure it's just a glitch in the video, but it looks like Wesley is with you."
"He is." Aaron nodded.
"I'm going to regret asking this question, but why?"
"He wants to be my legionnaire."
She stared.
"I'm tired of traveling all the time," Wesley whined. "I'm tired of living with heartless monsters like Carlos and Atalanta. I'm tired of revealing truths nobody wants to hear. I'm tired of being a target. Mostly, I'm tired of being jerked around by fate all the time. I want an ordinary life."
"Being a legionnaire is ordinary?"
"Compared to being the Voice of Truth, it is. I'm never going to use my gift again! I hate the pain and chaos it causes. The world is a happier place when everybody lies. Humanity isn't ready for enlightenment."
Marina raised her eyebrows. "I was right. I regret asking the question."
"What should I do?" Aaron said.
"Did you call Ethel?"
"She wasn't very helpful."
Marina winced. "I'm afraid I won't be very helpful, either. This is out of my league. Actually, I think it was a mistake to let me see Wesley at all. I didn't need to know he was in Chicago. His location is extremely sensitive information."
She was right. Aaron furrowed his brow with annoyance.
"I do have one question," she said. "Where is the protection team?"
"Downstairs in the hotel."
"Carlos?"
"Yes." He nodded.
She shuddered. "For once, I'm glad we're two thousand miles apart."
He looked at her face and felt every one of those miles. He desperately wanted to hold her. "I guess this is my problem to solve alone. Wesley came to me, not anybody else. We'll see if I'm up to the challenge."
"I love you. Good luck."
He sighed. "I love you, too. Bye." He turned off the video system.
He walked across the room and sat behind his desk. The twins had recommended a specific kind of ergonomic office chair, and he was very happy he had followed their advice. Soft gray webbing didn't allow any pressure points. Everything was perfectly adjusted. He could sit in his new chair for hours without getting uncomfortable.
"We need to talk," Aaron said.
Wesley walked over to the desk. "About what?"
"About you being a legionnaire. It would be extremely irresponsible for me to send you out on assignments. It's too dangerous for you."
"I can protect myself!"
"You're just a kid."
"My parents taught me how to fight every day since I learned to walk," Wesley said. "During the last year, Atalanta and Yvonne took over my training. You can't have better instructors."
"What do you weigh? Seventy pounds? Eighty? You just don't have the physical mass or strength to defeat an adult opponent."
"I'll show you. Let's spar right now." Wesley stuck out his chin defiantly.
