Velvet Mafia

by Lydia L Watts

  They also knew that once people were in denial, not only would the weapon be free to do what it was created to do, but it would do so for years before any attention would be given to what would soon be the largest population in the world suffering from the weapon’s destruction. And this population would end up having little to no input into or ownership of what was being financially planned down the road.

  The plan was simple: morbidity plus mortality equaled victims. Victims equaled a war on AIDS, and the right victims equaled unparalleled research and development dollars. The Illuminati, knew that eventually, governments would have to get involved in the eradication of the weapon. That would mean the development of a new industry, a new world economy, and new benefactors — all of whom could be controlled.

  However, what they did not foresee in their elaborate and sinister plan was that this biological weapon opened the door for a new minority to be born … one willing to come completely out of the closet … a group with unknown power and influence … a cohort that would use the impact of death and disease to establish a gay agenda and use their voting bloc and discretionary income to rewrite all constitutional provisions that did not recognize their existence.

  Seeing both the benefits and the consequences of this new minority, the Others created, within its own ranks, a group — the Velvet Mafia — that would protect this new voting bloc using tactics even a militia group would not employ. The Others saw the power of this new minority, especially its ability to organize gay sympathizers. Gay people may have been in the closet, but they had not been in there all alone. They had friends in high places, friends willing to organize their clout, too.

  This unintended consequence provided significant cover for the Others. If and when the conspiracy was uncovered, all blame would inevitably shift toward the United States government with its history of engaging in unethical practices on poor and marginalized populations. The same government that had created the weapon was now going to be charged with creating a new world industry. These new monies would ultimately be controlled by the Others and protected by the gay community worldwide.

  And that community was a force to be reckoned with. It had an agenda that challenged every fundamental belief system created and protected by the church and the constitution, an agenda that proved that separation of church and state was a fallacy.

  Thus, one lie of grotesque proportions, set in motion by a group of saboteurs hiding in the shadows, had devised a weapon of mass destruction, which then inadvertently emancipated a group willing to own and defend the lie and its decadent consequences.

  Teddy knew that what she had discovered sounded like fiction and it would be hard for many to believe. But it was true and she had the evidence to prove it, evidence that linked key government officials to the plan. Specifically, she had the FSA’s missing progress reports documenting the activity of the program, including its cost and the members of the development and research team.

  She also had the original work of Dr. Isabella Cardosa, as well as Lance St. John’s updated antidote logic flow chart. Teddy could prove that the antidote could eradicate the disease within forty-eight hours — with an efficacy rate of 100 percent — once inside a human host. In fact, she had more than the data; she had the human hosts. Before Basil had been murdered, he had been the first human subject, knowing it was a risk that could kill him, but one he was willing to take in order to document the antidote’s effectiveness.

  For data to be credible, Basil had videotaped the progression of his disease and then the impact of the antidote. He had all his test results, T cell counts, and medical reports. He had collected vials of his blood before and during infection. He’d then had a University of Chicago colleague test his blood after using the antidote, and there was no sign he had ever had the disease or that his immune system had been compromised. In fact, he had more T cells than expected.

  Then he had gone a step further and showed his video and lab results to key members of the dissident community who also had the disease. They also agreed to take part in his experiment. He used the same techniques he had used on himself. He had collected samples of their blood before they were injected with the antidote and after. After forty-eight hours, there was no sign of the disease in the subjects’ blood or in any of their organs months after taking the antidote. The results were conclusive: the antidote worked.

  Deliberate indifference to human suffering had been the price the world had to pay for a few to feel superior, and by any means necessary, Teddy was determined to fix a wrong, even if it meant she would have to die in the process of exposing the truth.

  Since the deaths of Basil and Kennedy, activity around the safe house had been slow. After Kennedy’s funeral, Lance stayed in DC for some time, while Teddy remained in Maryland to be alone with her thoughts. Although she never showed it, inside she was struggling; the loss of both Basil and Kennedy had hit her hard. For a while, the time alone felt good. She was able to feel and grieve without anyone looking over her shoulder.

  But once Lance returned to the safe house, things changed. He was different and so was she.

  “Tell me again, Teddy. Was it worth it?” Lance asked as he walked into the kitchen. He could tell he had surprised her. She hadn’t been expecting him and it showed.

  “Was what worth it?” she replied as she tried to maintain her composure.

  “The body count,” he said coldly. “Was it worth it?”

  “Yes, Lance, it was,” she said. Now standing and facing him, she could tell he’d been drinking and crying. “Everything we did was worth it, and everyone who lost their life believed it was worth it, too.”

  Teddy walked out of the kitchen and headed to the living room with Lance following her.

  “Kennedy didn’t agree to this! Kennedy wasn’t consulted. She had no say whatsoever, and now she’s dead, and you killed her. You got her hooked up in this mess. It’s because of you that she’s dead.”

  By now, she realized she had made a foolish mistake, but before she could do anything about it, Lance was waving a gun at her. She could see he no longer cared about the work he’d done. He had a different objective. His final chapter would be to take a life for a life. His final chapter would be laced with the poisonous venom of hate, retaliation, and retribution.

  “An eye for an eye, Teddy. That’s what the good book says, right?” Lance asked, now holding the gun steady. “You are nothing more than a hypocrite. Look at you standing there all helpless. Now you know what Kennedy must have been feeling. Let me guess. You want me to forgive you, don’t you? Let’s see; have you forgiven the man who killed your precious Isabella?”

  There it was. Lance had asked the one question that exposed her hypocrisy. In eight-plus years, she had never once thought about forgiving the men who’d killed Isabella because to do so would rob her of her strength, the main thing she needed in order to see the journey through. And even now, facing imminent death, she couldn’t bring herself to forgive.

  “Do you have any idea how it’s been for me to watch you every day? To work with you side by side, knowing the reason I felt empty and alone was because the person standing next to me had taken what was mine and left me wanting and desiring something no longer attainable? Each time I looked at you, my stomach turned. And if I hadn’t needed the antidote and all the evidence we collected, I would have killed you the day of Kennedy’s funeral and no one would have known the difference. Hell, Teddy, you didn’t even come to the funeral.”

  “I wanted to go to the funeral,” she said. “I loved her too and —”

  “Shut up!”

  At that moment Teddy realized, no matter what she said, Lance no longer had the capacity to listen to her. And the only thing that mattered was the fact that he still hadn’t pulled the trigger.

  “Why do you need the antidote, Lance?” Teddy asked. “Tell me. Why do you need the antidote, Lance?”

  “I don’t need it. The Velvet Mafia does,” he said. Then he pulled the trigger.


  Teddy fell hard. As she lay there, blood pouring from her head, Lance roughly pulled the key from around her neck, the key that would open the safe where they had kept all the original documents.

  Once the safe was open, Lance retrieved the schematic flow charts, the reports, the members list, and the antidote formula, and placed them in his leather bag. He collected all the vials of blood that had proved the antidote worked and packed them in a portable cooler filled with dry ice. Then he left the house and ran to a nearby sheltered area.

  “Good job, Lance,” Eli said. “The Velvet Mafia is in your debt.”

  “I can’t believe I just killed her,” Lance said, out of breath from running. “Oh, God, what have I done?”

  “It is not up to us to understand why we are asked to do what we are asked to do,” Eli said. “It’s only up to us to know that it is our duty to complete the task. Based on what we know about Ms. Alexander, you and I both know she deserved to die. We also know that you, of all people, were the best choice for this tremendous responsibility.”

  Lance could barely stand, he was so shaken by what he had done. As he stood there watching Eli’s lips move, he was struck by the fact that weeks earlier, he hadn’t even known him. Yet, in a short time, Eli had convinced him to kill. Where had he come from? Why had he shown up at the funeral when he did? How did he know so much about Kennedy? Was this all an elaborate plan? Or had Lance simply been that eager to take Teddy’s life? With each question, Lance could only hope that what had just happened was simply a dream and soon he would wake up. But, when he heard the man’s voice, he knew the nightmare was real.

  “Did you get what we asked for, Lance?” Eli asked as he extended his hand toward the leather satchel. Without looking up, Lance handed over the bag and the cooler. It was as if he had been hypnotized; every command given by the stranger, he honored.

  Blake arrived at the safe house just in time to see something he couldn’t believe. Standing with Lance in an area sheltered by trees and shrubs were Eli and another man. Crouching down so as to not be seen, Blake could barely make out what they were saying.

  “Good. Now give me the gun,” Eli said, “and I will dispose of it.”

  Taking the gun, Eli passed it to the man standing to his left. Without hesitation, the man stepped back and with deliberate aim, pulled the trigger. Lance’s head popped back, then ricocheted forward before he fell to ground. The man then grabbed one of Lance’s legs and dragged his body back to the safe house.

  Without warning, Blake threw up everything he’d consumed that day. All he could think about was that Lance was dead and everything they had worked on, including the antidote, was now in Eli’s possession. But where was Teddy?

  Eli’s accomplice came out of the house and Blake watched the two of them leave. Then a noise and a smell made him turn toward the safe house — now engulfed in flames. Blake ran down the hill and entered the house through a back door. By now, black smoke was everywhere and visibility was difficult. As he made his way through the kitchen, Blake knew he didn’t have much time. The source of the smoke was in front of him and if Teddy was in there, he would have to crawl in order to find her.

  “Teddy!” he yelled. Teddy!”

  Gasping for air, Blake pulled a curtain down and used it to cover his mouth. Smoke was definitely in his lungs but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to find her. Then there she was. Right in front of him, lying on the floor. He could tell she was hurt by the amount of blood by her head. He just didn’t know whether her wound had already killed her. Regardless, he had to get her out of the house before it was too late for both of them. He scrambled into action.

  Once outside and safely away from the house, Blake lay Teddy down on the ground softly, then searched for her wound. Teddy was wearing the titanium vest — thank God — so he could see where the bullet had struck, but he couldn’t figure out where the blood was coming from. As he continued to search her body for the bullet’s entry, he was surprised to find there was none. All he could find was a gash on the back of her head. Apparently the impact of the bullet had been so forceful, it had caused her to lose her balance and fall. When she did, she split her head wide open on the corner of the table.

  Looking at Teddy covered in smoke and her own blood, Blake was overcome with remorse. For the first time, his judgment had been wrong and he regretted that he hadn’t shared with her sooner Lance’s affiliation. As he cradled her in his arms, he knew his mistake might have cost her, her life. “Lord, please bring her back to me. Please.”

  As Blake carried her farther up the hill, he could feel her regaining consciousness.

  “What happened?” she said.

  “Hang in there, kiddo. You’ll be all right soon. I just need to get you to the hospital.”

  “My head is killing me,” she said, barely able to open her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Teddy, we’ll be at the hospital soon. Everything will be all right.” Placing her in the backseat of his Range Rover, Blake knew that if she didn’t get immediate attention, her injury could cause permanent damage.

  “Do you remember anything that happened?” he asked. “Teddy? Wake up. Teddy!”

  Teddy regained full consciousness while at the hospital and received thirty-six stitches and instructions to stay off her feet for the next forty-eight hours. Then Blake drove her back to his place where he knew she would be safe. Once Eli realized she was not dead, Blake knew he would come looking for her. But he also knew that Eli couldn’t put the two of them together.

  With the antidote and formula in hand, Eli and his accomplice left the scene. The smoke from the accelerant used to ignite the fire had become so thick, the two men were able to move freely through the brush that surrounded the home’s outer perimeter. As they did so, they saw emergency vehicles approaching, as well as neighbors who had by now left their own homes to witness the fire’s magnificence. Then the front of the safe house exploded with such intensity that the flames reached almost fifty feet in the air and every neighbor within a two-block radius watched as the fire trucks attempted to maneuver within the cul-de-sac.

  Whatever Jason Walls used to start and sustain the fire made tracking the two men difficult. However, Charlie had been following them from the moment they had entered Beaver Park. He’d known that after Dr. Rhodes was executed and the final DaKira Paper released, the Others would move to gain possession of everything it had explained; he just didn’t know when. So, he’d had to stay alert.

  After watching Walls execute Lance, Charlie also knew they would dispose of anybody and everybody with any knowledge of the conspiracy, or anyone else who got in their way.

  The smoke’s density began to blend in with the natural foliage, making it harder and harder for Charlie to see his targets. The only thing he had working for him was that he knew where they were going once outside the brush. If he could make it to the road before they did, he would be able to continue his surveillance efforts. For Charlie, it was bigger than just protecting the antidote; apprehending the Others kept him focused. He knew that once he had the access he needed, the house of cards would come tumbling down.

  Eli and Walls finally reached the small creek that sat quietly at the bottom of the brush. Created by the summer air and heat from the fire, steam emanating from the creek created the perfect ambiance to put Charlie in position to get in front of his targets. He could get to the street and his truck before they did. That way, when they headed to their getaway car, he would be in position to follow. But before he could make his move, Walls made his.

  Charlie watched as Walls pulled out a revolver and pointed it at Eli. This had to be a sanctioned hit and that meant the Others were making a change in their management structure. Now all he could do was wait to see what would happen next.

  Eli started to hand over the satchel, but used it to begin to wrestle with Walls over the gun. Soon the two men were in the creek, both struggling to get control. At first, it looked as if Walls had the upper hand.
Then Charlie heard a gunshot. Not sure who had the gun or if anyone had been hit, Charlie continued to watch the two men in hand-to-hand combat. Based on what he could see, Eli had met his match. Walls may have been a few years younger and thus, less experienced, but he was about the same size as Eli. Whoever walked away would definitely be the victor.

  The fight was between two gladiators. Eli was relentless as he pummeled Walls. At the rate he was going and with the speed of each punch, Charlie finally believed Walls was doomed. Charlie watched with anticipation but, much to his surprise, Eli didn’t finish his opponent off. Instead, Eli stopped his rapid succession of punches and pulled Walls’s battered and semiconscious body from the creek. He then laid him on the ground and checked his pulse to make sure he was still alive.

  Charlie had expected a kill and his expectations had been reasonable since he knew the Others had bred Eli to be a killer. But, for whatever reason, Eli was choosing to spare a life rather than take one. And the life he spared was the life of the man who, if things had turned out differently, would have completed his assignment and left Eli lying at the base of the creek.

  After seeing that Walls was okay, Eli went back to the spot where it had all started and retrieved the satchel and cooler. From where he stood, Charlie could see that Eli may have walked away from the fight, but he had been seriously injured. He’d been shot and he was losing blood fast. Eli was struggling to walk. Every step he took, his breathing became more labored. Then he tumbled. His face hit the ground like a weight hitting a mat — one bounce before coming to a full stop.

  It didn’t take Walls long to regain consciousness. When he did, he couldn’t believe he was still alive. Walls had encountered many adversaries but none like Eli. Eli could take a punch and he could give one. In hand-to-hand combat, Eli fought like a strategist. Each punch landed as if from a well-trained and seasoned heavyweight fighter.