The Veritas Deception

by Lynne Constantine

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  A melodious voice answered her.

  “Don’t you see I already have? Your parents are gone. Your sister thinks you don’t care about her.”

  “My sister will never give up.”

  He laughed. “She’ll forget about you.”

  “Never.”

  “Trust me, Maya. She’ll find a new family. Now that your parents are dead, and you’ve abandoned her, she’ll move on. We’ll send her a letter from you saying that you never want to speak to her again, that you’ve made a new life in Europe.”

  She shot up from the chair. “She’ll never believe that!”

  The man rose and walked toward her, his back to the camera. He put his hands on her shoulders and spoke slowly and deliberately to her. “She thinks you’ve run off with someone you met from here. She’s very hurt that you missed her wedding.”

  She hung her head.

  “Eva got married?”

  Taylor looked at Jeremy. “Eva?”

  Jeremy hesitated. “Your mother.”

  Jack looked back and forth between the two of them, bewildered.

  Jeremy turned the television off and sat next to Taylor. “My mother and your mother were sisters,” he said.

  Taylor looked up, trying to remember. “My mother told me about her parents being killed before she got married, but she never mentioned a sister. Why would she keep it a secret?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was too hard for her.”

  “We can use that tape to prove he kidnapped her,” Jack said.

  “It’s not enough. It’d be impossible to authenticate. He could say it was fake. Plus, you never see his face,” Jeremy answered.

  He handed a piece of paper to Taylor. “This is a letter she wrote to your mother. I guess she knew it would never get mailed, but she wrote it anyway.”

  Taylor took the paper from Jeremy with a shaking hand, and read aloud.

  February 11, 1976

  My darling Eva,

  He has shown it all to me. It is appalling how easily he has managed to manipulate the people who work for him. They are zealots who actually believe in the philosophical rhetoric he uses to blind them. There are already dozens of his graduates placed in key positions— politicians, judges, doctors, captains of industry, media executives. They are everywhere. There are files on all of them, evidence of his empire and all those who have done his bidding to build it. Brainwashing, torture, even murder—there is no method that is beneath him. He took great pride in sharing his collection of memoirs with me.

  His favorite topic though is how, through his efforts, it will one day be legal to decide who should live or die based on their worth to society. Life will have no intrinsic value. The so-called bio-ethicists, a term he uses with malicious irony, will succeed in convincing otherwise intelligent people that the greater good is served by weeding out the weak. Those with incurable illnesses and diminished mental and physical capacity are better off being released from this world, so resources can be better used for the healthy and firm.

  My time is coming to an end. I have so many regrets. I never got to say good-bye to you and to Mama and Papa. I wish I could tell them that I returned to my faith—and that I love them. How difficult it can be for a person of intellect to accept the things of God. If it couldn’t be scientifically proven, I had no use for it. Now I see how small we are in relation to God, yet how interested He is in us personally. The magnitude of His grace is beyond my comprehension. I am grateful that this temporary detour to hell has brought me to my senses. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when my usefulness to Damon is gone and he kills me, I will be sent into the arms of Jesus. And I will be at peace at last.

  All my love always and forever,

  Maya

  “I’m so sorry. So very…” Her voice broke and the tears fell. She took a deep breath and put her hand on Jeremy’s. “They’re together now.”

  “Your mother was a believer?”

  Taylor smiled. “Yes. Her faith defined her.” She gave Jeremy a long look. “So our mothers were sisters? We’re first cousins?”

  Jeremy didn’t answer.

  She leaned over and embraced him. “I thought I felt a connection when I met you.” She laughed. “Not to mention that we have the same color eyes. Must be from our grandparents.”

  Jeremy looked at her somberly.

  “I have something else to show you.” He opened up a drawer in the table next to her and pulled out a photograph. “This is my father, Damon Crosse.”

  Staring back at her was a man with emerald-green eyes—eyes the exact color of hers.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  The man in the trench coat tried to ignore the twitching in his eye. Count to ten, he reminded himself. Shut up. Shut up. They’re looking at you. One, two, three four, five, six seven. Breathe, breathe, look normal!

  He’d gotten out a few days after she did. The first thing he did was what she’d told him. Go to the Beans and Leaves Coffee shop in Woodstock, New York. He was in line, getting ready to give them his order. Regular coffee, no sugar, light on the cream. Regular coffee, no sugar, light on the cream. It was his turn.

  “Regular coffee, sugar, no cream,” he stammered. “No! Wait! No sugar, light cream.” Phew. He’d almost messed up. Think right, think bright, light, sight, might. STOP IT! One, two, three, four five, six, seven, eight. Breathe, breathe. “Thank you.”

  He looked around suspiciously. There were lots of them everywhere. He could tell. They thought they were so smart, that they could fool him. Ha! He knew better. He narrowed his eyes at a particularly tricky one. She was masquerading as an innocent old lady, but he saw through her. He thought about smacking her right in the head, but he had been warned not to make a scene.

  He found a seat at one of the tables in the back, just like she told him. He tapped his foot while he waited, his eyes darting around the room, surveying everyone in the crowded café. Where was she? Wouldn’t wait forever. Couldn’t wait for never. Thought she was so clever. Someone’s head to sever. STOP! One, two, three, four, five, six. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  “Hello, Nathan.”

  His head jerked around. She had come! He grinned, and a relieved laugh escaped his lips.

  She sat down across from him. “Good boy. You did exactly as I asked. I’m very proud of you.”

  He beamed.

  “Did you bring it?”

  He nodded his head excitedly. “Yes, wanna see it now?”

  “Not here!” she snapped.

  He tensed, and a scowl replaced his smile.

  She patted his hand with hers. “What I mean, my dear, is it’s not safe here. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

  He relaxed, and his shoulders fell back into their usual slump. “Okey dokey, smokey. Where should we go?”

  “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  They walked outside into the bracing air. Nathan had no coat and shivered as the cold wind nestled under his thin shirt.

  He began to sing. “Freezing, wheezing, cold, old, sold, fold.”

  She stopped at a black Jaguar. “Here we are.”

  He backed away from the car as if it were alive.

  “No black. I don’t like black. It’s black, it’s black, attack.”

  She grabbed his arm hard.

  “Ow,” he yelled.

  “Stop it now. Count. Do you hear me? Count. It’s fine. Get in.”

  He gave her a terrified look but obeyed. She was being mean. Now he was mad. She wasn’t supposed to be mean to him. He would ignore her. That would teach her not to be mean. They drove in silence for the next twenty minutes. She stopped the car at a warehouse.

  There was a big car sitting there. He pointed to it. “What’s that?”

  “That,” she said, “is your gateway to freedom.”

  “I don’t understand.”

 
; “I’m taking you to a place where the doctors can help you.”

  He screamed. “No doctors! No needles! Needles! Beetles! No more!”

  She turned to look at him. “Eyes.”

  He looked at her.

  “Have I ever hurt you?”

  He shook his head.

  “These doctors are different. They’re going to help you think clearly. No medicine. No machines. No needles.”

  The door to the large car opened and the driver emerged. “Mr. Crosse would like to know the reason for the delay. He is eager to be on his way,” the man said. He talked funny.

  Dakota gave the man a fast nod, got out of the car, and walked around to open the passenger door. “Come.”

  He looked around. She was moving toward the car without him. He didn’t want to be left alone.

  “Wait.” He hurried to catch up and followed her into the big car.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Taylor went cold. “Are you trying to tell me that Damon Crosse is my father? How can that be?”

  “He is nothing if not thorough. He had his people spy on Maya’s family—your mother, your grandparents. He arranged for your grandparents’ death. When your mother married Warwick Parks, your father, he placed people in their lives to keep an eye on them. When your mother couldn’t get pregnant, their family doctor steered them to a fertility clinic in England that performed the IVF treatments. It was one of Damon’s clinics. Instead of your father’s sperm, they used Damon’s.”

  Taylor’s hand flew to her mouth. “How do you know this?”

  “He bragged about it to me. He said he wished Maya could have known that he was the father of her sister’s child too.”

  “But, why? Why did he want my mother to have his child? He’s never been in my life.”

  “He had a twisted obsession with my mother. Once she was gone, he still wanted a connection to her.”

  Taylor cradled her stomach protectively. “Oh my God!” Her eyes widened.

  Jack and Jeremy exchanged a glance.

  Jeremy nodded slowly. “Yes. You are pregnant with his grandchild. It’s one of the reasons you have not been harmed. It’s also the reason Malcolm agreed to help me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “When I told Malcolm what Crosse was really doing, what his real intentions were and how he would draw Malcolm’s own child into it if left unstopped, it broke him. He never imagined that the powerful cadre of men who gave him orders were anything but in it for the money.”

  “What’s Crosse’s end game?” Jack asked.

  “Control. Manipulation. Corruption. He serves a dark master, and his mission is nothing short of the obliteration of all that is good. He wants to destroy the family, the individual, and, most importantly, all connections to God.”

  Jack and Taylor both stared at him, openmouthed.

  “You’re joking, right?” Jack said.

  “I’ve never been more serious.”

  “You’re telling me he’s doing all this just to get rid of morality? That he has a bunch of Satanists working for him?”

  Jeremy stood up and began to pace.

  “No. There are many different motivations he uses. Some have venal motives.” He cleared his throat. “And some of them have what they consider to be altruistic motives. He uses people’s beliefs, or greed, or vulnerabilities—whatever is the most expedient to gain allegiance. He has true believers in a certain philosophy— those that fight for end-of-life choices, euthanasia, women’s rights, freedom— and they serve him out of allegiance to their cause. Others are simply power hungry or greedy and work for their own advancement.” He took a seat again and leaned forward, looking Jack in the eye. “He has all the money he could ever want. He’s behind the scenes pulling political strings, influencing the media and advertising. He does it all for one purpose—to deceive and distract people from their true purpose.”

  There was no mistaking the look of skepticism and incredulity in Jack’s eyes.

  Taylor furrowed her brow. “Are you saying he’s the Antichrist?” Now she was starting to wonder about Jeremy’s hold on reality.

  Jeremy shook his head. “No. But he is heavily involved in the occult. He considers himself a prophet—not for the benefit of mankind, but for its destruction. He believes that man deserves to be destroyed. His machinations have been behind the legislature responsible for legalizing drugs, mandating pregnancy screening and forced abortions, euthanasia, assisted suicide, legalized prostitution, relaxing of the ratings system—all of it his. He revels in it.”

  “How did he get started? Where did he get the money to do all this?” Taylor asked.

  “His adopted father, Fred Crosse, was a scientist. He started it. I don’t know where he got his money. He was German. I still remember the thick accent, and Damon calling him ‘Father’, but in my mother’s journals, she refers to a man she met once, named Friedrich. She wrote about my father’s obsession with him. It must be the same man.”

  “So, this Fred was alive when Crosse kidnapped your mother to give him an heir. If you are not going to carry on for him, who is?”

  Jeremy’s eyes went to her belly.

  As the realization dawned on Taylor, she stood up and began to back away. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Oh no! No. No! What am I going to do?”

  Jack put his arms around her. “Nobody is going to take that baby from you.”

  Jeremy walked over to them and put his hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “Your baby is in great danger. Damon has a long reach. I believe he is trying to engineer a way to get your child, with no one ever finding out.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  “I have the proof now. The file—the one he had bragged about, his people file—it has the name of everyone under his control, what they have done for him, and what he has on them. It’s taken me almost a year to find a way to get it. I finally have a connection inside the Institute. He got the file a few weeks ago.”

  “What kind of people are in the file?” Taylor asked.

  “I haven’t been able to decrypt it, but it should have the names of judges, politicians, business magnates—people in all areas of influence.”

  “Okay, so why not take it to the FBI?” Jack asked.

  “Because he has his people everywhere. I can’t be sure who to trust, he has connections everywhere, and they’re not all in his file.” He looked at Taylor. “We need your father’s help.”

  They both looked at him. “What are you thinking?” Taylor asked.

  “You need to stay here in hiding. Jack can take the information I’ve gathered to your father. He’s the only one in the press I think we can trust. As head of the largest Washington paper, he has the resources to investigate the names on the flash drive, to put together the evidence linking them to Damon and show that they’ve taken bribes and committed crimes.”

  “What if Damon’s people have infiltrated his paper as well?” Taylor asked.

  Jeremy shook his head. “It’s a chance we’re going to have to take.” He looked at Jack. “You’re going to have to impress upon him the need for his greatest discretion, to use as few resources as he can, and only ones he feels certain he can trust.”

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck and looked at floor. “Is there enough on that file to really get any evidence that will stick?”

  “I believe so. It should have evidence of bribes. The problem is that the file is encrypted and it has a digital timer that measures how long it’s been opened and I don’t know what he set it for. We’ll be able to validate it quickly, but we’ll have to let Warwick read it because it’ll expire if we keep it open too long. That’s where the two of you come in.”

  Taylor looked at him quizzically.

  He explained. “I’ve run all sorts of computer programs to break the encryption, but nothing has worked. My source has just gotten information on the password and how to get in
to it.

  “How?” Taylor and Jack both asked in unison.

  “It’s our DNA. That’s the key.”

  “Huh?” Taylor had no clue what he was talking about.

  “He has a sick sense of humor,” Jeremy said. “He, the man with no paternal allegiance whatsoever, has used our DNA sequence as the code breaker. I have it on good authority that he has combined the letters of the codon from each of our DNA sequences.”

  “Hold on. DNA fingerprinting wasn’t discovered until the eighties. You were born in 1976,” Jack pointed out.

  “Yes. It would have been easy for him to get a sample from me without my knowing it.”

  “How would he have gotten mine?” Taylor asked.

  “Most likely kept a blood sample, a hair, something from your birth. As I said, he likes his trophies.”

  Taylor was nauseated at the thought.

  “How are we going to get our DNA sequence?”

  “My lab will run the test. I can take the samples now.” He pulled out a kit containing gloves, cotton swabs and envelopes. “Just swab your cheek. We’ll have it in a few hours. Once we have the information from the flash drive, we can move forward with the plan.”

  “And what of the Institute?”

  “Once he is out of the way, I will fight to take over as his legal heir.”

  Taylor’s head was spinning. She thought of something. “Did Crosse orchestrate my meeting Malcolm?”

  Jeremy uncrossed his legs then crossed them again.

  “This is not easy to tell you—either of you.” He sighed. “You and Jack were deliberately kept apart. But it wasn’t just Malcolm.” He turned and looked Jack in the eye. “Dakota was a set up. You were her mission. She knew all about your background, your mother, and she played her part to bewitch you. She—”

  Jack jumped up from the sofa and grabbed Jeremy by the shoulders. “Are you insane? What are you talking about?”

  Taylor sprang up and pulled Jack off Jeremy.

  “Jack! Stop it. It’s not Jeremy’s fault. Sit down.”

  Jack shook his head, then put his hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry. Sorry.” He sat next to Taylor, and she grabbed his hand.