Killing the Giants

by Jeff Bennington

  Dennis looked toward the woods, straining to see the van. “Yeah.” He then looked all around as if he were being watched. “How’d you know that?”

  “Just a hunch. Is it the Roosevelt Forestry Reserve?”

  “That’s right! How’d y—”

  “That isn’t important now. I need you to get to JFK as soon as you possibly can. Can you do that?”

  Dennis sat up and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Sure. I’ll try. It might take me a little while.”

  “It should take you about forty-five minutes if the traffic is kind to you,” said David. “But you have to leave now. Go back to Manhattan and the tunnel. Then take 495 East into Queens. From there, take 278 South and follow the signs to JFK International. Call me if you have any questions. I know New York like the back of my hand.”

  “You got it, Mr. Liggin. I’m on my way!”

  Chapter 29

  You’re Dead

  Sarah felt very much at home in the white van, familiar with the equipment and surveillance protocol. She was aware that the IT tech knew what he was doing and expected the rest of the team to let him do his job. She observed Mark’s equipment with great interest.

  Blake reached his hand toward a parabolic dish. “What are all of these gadgets on the wall here?”

  Mark looked at Blake with distrust. “That is my shit! Don’t touch it. That’s all you need to know.”

  Blake pulled his hands away, palms out. “Christ! I just wanted to know wh—”

  Mark angrily threw his headset onto his workstation. “All right! You want to know what this is? This is the most advanced surveillance system you can get; compliments of your tax dollars.”

  Blake sneered. “I’m Canadian you idiot!”

  Mark twisted in his seat, turning back to the screens. “Whatever!” He started typing something on the keyboard. “You don’t understand. This is my baby. I know how she works. Sometimes she gets very sensitive, and I can’t afford to have you fondle her if you don’t know what you’re doing. The slightest wrong move can cause one of our microphones to give off reverse feedback, which could ruin this entire project!” He stopped typing, turned back to Blake and pointed into the woods. “If they found any of our cameras or mics, we would’ve wasted the last five years and they would tear the place apart until they found everything; not to mention that we’d be at risk. So just…” He threw his hands out as if choking the air. “Just keep your hands off, okay.”

  Mark caught his breath. “If you’re that curious, I’ll tell you what I’m doing as we go along. Other than that, stay away. Got it?” His shoulders slouched and he resumed his duties.

  Blake stared at Mark and said, “Yeah. I got it.” He knew the tech nerd wasn’t worth the trouble.

  Heather slapped her hands together, smiled and said, “Okay, now that we’ve put that behind us, let’s get on to the more exciting business of killing the two of you, shall we?”

  “Thanks Heather,” added Jack. “Here’s the deal. We’ve arranged to have Sarah’s car brought here. They’re also bringing two fresh cadavers that match your general description. When our agents get here, you’ll give them your wallet and purse, and they’ll plant your identification on the cadavers, shoot your dead imposters and push your car over Dover’s Cliff. We’ll report the accident to the local authorities. And when they find the scene littered with your personal belongings, it’ll make quite a story. I can hear it now: ‘News flash: ATF agent and suspected Canadian terrorist found early this morning after their car was found at the bottom of Dover’s Cliff.’”

  “What about our DNA or our dental records? Won’t they look into that?” asked Blake.

  “Taken care of,” said Jack. “The county coroner works with the Bureau all the time. And I think you have a little something to give him.” Jack held out two empty syringes. “Well just need a small sample, if you don’t mind.”

  Blake looked at Sarah with shock. He’d never imagined that he would live a James Bond moment.

  “A government payoff and a little blood go a long way these days,” continued Jack. “Heather, would you care to do the honors?”

  Heather smiled a devious grin. “Sure. But why use a syringe? At this hour, I usually just bite.” She winked at her victims. “Now, if you’ll both turn your heads to the side!” Heather laughed as Blake turned his head. She gently smacked his head with her hand and said with a smile, “I’m sorry, Blake. You’ll have to wait for a full moon. I’m only teasing!”

  “All right all ready. Get on with it!” Blake spouted off, embarrassed for being so naïve.

  Heather tied a tourniquet on his arm, inserted the syringe and began extracting Blake’s blood. She did the same for Sarah.

  Jack added, “The rest of the blood’ll come from someone else.”

  Blake grimaced at the thought of another body shedding blood in place of his.

  “Hey,” said Jack. “I don’t ask questions anymore. I just give them what they want.”

  At that moment, someone knocked on the door of the van.

  “The crash team’s arrived!” shouted Rob, twisting his neck from the front seat.

  Heather opened the side door and it slammed into the doorstop. Two FBI agents stood there waiting for the blood samples. Blake and Sarah turned over their wallet and purse, respectively. Heather handed the vials to the agents. They left without a word. Heather pulled the van door closed, looked back at Blake and Sarah, raised her eyebrows and said, “There, now you’re dead! Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

  “Okay! Let’s get down to business!” shouted Mark as he slapped his hands and rubbed them together.

  “Rock and roll!” yelled Russell from the front passenger’s seat. Rob started the engine, and the team drove farther down the dark gravel road until they were within the operational range of the surveillance equipment.

  Jack handed Sarah a stack of files, while Mark turned on the cameras. One by one, each screen went from black-and-white static to a still picture of the interior of The Palace.

  Blake watched the staff members walking past the cameras.

  “It’s a busy place,” said Mark, still tapping on the keys. “We think they have a staff of nearly fifty servants, chefs, security and other miscellaneous labor. But what’s in those files is of far greater importance. We’ve positively identified eighty-six of them. We’ve got about twenty more to go, excluding the new guy.”

  “Jonathan Stalwart?” asked Sarah.

  “That’s right,” said Jack.

  “We’re preparing for the monthly meeting. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to hear of your sudden demise,” said Heather as she loaded her sidearm.

  “So who is this guy?” Sarah asked as she shuffled through the files. “Marvin Chambers? Why does his name sound familiar?”

  Jack replied, “He’s one of the Americans. His family’s been making their fortune in armored-vehicle sales since the First World War. He’s a Princeton graduate, board member of the World Bank, former congressman and ranking member of the Trilateral Commission.”

  Mark added, “They say when he travels abroad that he’ll start a war if he’s not received well. The last place he visited was Sweden. Who knows what will come of that.”

  “What about this guy, Vladimir Brusknov? What’s his story?” Sarah probed.

  “He’s straight out of the Kremlin,” replied Jack as he looked at the picture. “KGB. The works. He’s been around since the Cold War. He has a monopoly in oil and natural gas out of Moscow. Vladimir practically owns Russia. He retired from public service. Now he just pushes his weight around and manipulates Russian trade policies by controlling the price of oil throughout the former Soviet Union and Western Europe.”

  Blake asked, “How does he fit in with Caesar?”

  Heather nudged Blake with her elbow. “This isn’t an exclusively American club. This is a worldwide cartel. They have nearly every major economy represented. They are all in this together. But there’s a common thr
ead beyond the global economics.”

  Sarah interrupted, “It’s their recruiting, isn’t it? The common thread is the universities.”

  “That’s right,” said Jack. “How did you know?”

  Sarah shook her head. “That was one of the most surprising things I discovered while writing my doctoral dissertation. Wherever a power shift occurred throughout the early twentieth century, I could trace its influence back to select universities, who in turn sponsored select fraternities, who were supported by secret societies. Overall, geographical location has little to do with their influence. It boils down to about three our four fraternities. The more prominent one of course is Skull and Bones. They primarily recruit out of Yale University, but they have chapters all over the world: Berlin, Sydney, Moscow and Munich, just to name a few.”

  Excited to be back in her element, Sarah continued. “Once these boys make it through the hazing process, they’re further scrutinized by the next level of secret societies, such as: Caesar, the Illuminati and the others. All of the candidates are from wealthy and prominent families. But only the crème de la crème rises to the top. These guys are not only wealthy and intelligent, they are powerful leaders bent on making their mark on society, but not always in a positive light.”

  “That’s right, Sarah,” agreed Jack. “But what were you saying about the power shifts?”

  “As these men quietly take control of their respective industries and eventually nations, we can see wealth shift from the working class to a higher class. It’s just amazing how consistent the data is on this phenomenon, yet it’s been completely ignored in academia.”

  Jack added, “It’s ignored because they own academia. I mean, over sixty of these guys in this stack of files are on the board of one university or another. So I’m sure they have some influence over the school’s curriculum.”

  Mark turned away from the screen and said, “Right. Tell them about Dr. Hans Smiert.”

  “Who?” asked Blake. He grabbed a picture from Sarah’s pile and looked at Dr. Smiert, a tall, thin man with small black eyes whose face seemed to be chiseled into sharp edges at his cheeks and chin.

  “Dr. Hans Smiert,” said Heather. “He was an economist at the University of Vienna. Now he’s one of our boys here and possibly one of the most influential economists on the ball team. He not only speaks on behalf of the Austrian economy, but influences many global corporations and international think tanks. He was once a strict follower of Carl Marx. Then ten years ago he suddenly flip-flopped into a global capitalist, falling in line with the Austrian theories of economics. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It just seemed unusual. And now, ever since the switch, he’s speaking across the planet about the need for a global laissez-faire-type economy.”

  “Why? What happened ten years ago?” asked Sarah.

  Mark replied, “Well, we’re not sure. He suddenly and without any warning made a complete turnaround. He changed his political and economic views overnight. It came as quite a shock to many universities around the world and put him straight to the top of the university speaking circuit. He used to be a respected Marxist in certain circles. But we believe that he was bought by Caesar to influence the ever-growing rise in Marxist teachings across academia.”

  “Okay everyone!” shouted Heather. “I hate to change the subject, but we’ve got some planning to do. Tomorrow’s the big day. Remember? It’s getting late, and Rob and Russell need to get Jack home.”

  “What’s tomorrow?” asked Sarah.

  “Tomorrow’s Caesar’s monthly assembly. They’ll be discussing the big retreat. Should be exciting.” Heather clapped her hands together in time with each syllable when she said, “Let’s go everyone…chop, chop!”

  Mark looked over the equipment and Rob, Russell and Jack stepped out of the van and entered the limousine to take Jack back to his estate.

  Chapter 30

  Coq Au Vin?

  Back in the Fleure le Sol, Joseph Heinrich and Senator James McCutchen continued educating Jonathan about the inner workings of Caesar and their societal brotherhood. The waiter returned to take their order. Joseph suggested the coq au vin, a succulent dish of duck, wine, mushrooms and seasoning. Jonathan approved. After the waiter walked away, Jonathan asked another question.

  “So, how did you come into the Order, Senator?”

  Senator McCutchen laughed out loud at Jonathan’s inquisitiveness. He lit a cigarette, enjoyed a deep inhalation, blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth and said, “You want the gory details, huh? Well, it’s hard to follow an act like Mr. Heinrich here, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you,” Jonathan said as he nodded his head, eyes peering deeply into the others’. “I find this all very interesting.”

  The senator tapped the gray coals off his cigarette into an ashtray, leaned back in his chair and said, “To begin with, things weren’t as hard for me as they were for Joseph’s grandfather. I had it pretty easy. I had money, cars, toys and girls. But what I didn’t have was a mother and a father. We lived in the same house, don’t get me wrong, but they weren’t really there. It was as if their relationship with me was only part of a program. They put me in the best private schools and sent me to Yale. But between the nannies and loneliness, I felt confused about what a family looked like.

  “Although he was distant, my father pulled a lot of strings to get me where I am today. And when he passed away he left me with millions. But I never knew him. I never really knew my mother either. They were always miles away emotionally. Despite their faults, they led me to Mr. Heinrich here. He’s made a home for me.” The senator’s head nodded convincingly. “This is my family now. We’re all brothers, and it all started back at Yale in 1963, the year I met Mr. Heinrich.”

  The senator blew more smoke, set his cigarette on the tray and began rolling up his sleeves. “I walked onto that campus with all the confidence in the world. I was a state finalist on my high school lacrosse team and in tennis. I was class president and co-valedictorian. As far as I was concerned, the world was my oyster!” James chuckled at his memoir. “But that all changed soon enough.”

  “What happened?” asked Jonathan.

  “Three weeks into my first semester, I decided that I’d make a go at getting into a fraternity. Rush week was approaching and I was ready to show the world that I was the man! I asked around about different fraternities and tried to get to know some of the guys, but I quickly found out how small I really was. Like Mr. Heinrich’s grandfather, I went through my share of hazing. Although in the sixties, hazing wasn’t a multiyear process. It only lasted a week or two.

  “What really intrigued me though, was this fraternity on campus that had the most disciplined, straitlaced guys I had ever seen. They were private, dressed in black whenever they convened. They lived in the most incredible house—dark, gothic, barely had any windows. The building was as mysterious as the young men who resided there. There was something different about them that drew me in. Perhaps it was the mystery or my fascination with their solemnity. I’m not sure now, but I knew that I wanted to be one of them.

  “I asked other students about the fraternity, but all I got was funny looks. No one wanted to talk about them. I didn’t even know what the name of the fraternity was at the time. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t care. I began to wonder if they were a New Age cult or something satanic.”

  “Were you scared?” asked Jonathan.

  “Yes!” The senator looked at Joseph, smiled pretentiously and turned back toward Jonathan. “One day while I was walking by The Tomb—that’s what they called their fraternity house: The Tomb—I stopped to stare as usual. As I stood there studying the masonry work and towers, one of the older men”—the senator pointed his thumb at Joseph acknowledging that he was the older man—“stepped out the door and called my name.”

  Jonathan grunted with surprise. Joseph looked back and forth to observe the two men and then smiled as he witnessed their developing relationship.


  “Anyway,” said Senator McCutchen. “He wore a long black gown that hung all the way to the ground with a hood that covered his head. All I could see were his dark eyes and his goatee hanging from his chin.”

  Jonathan laughed. “Joseph? With a goatee?”

  “Ah, the good old days when love was free and beatniks ruled the campus,” said Joseph, clasping his hands.

  James smirked and said, “Yeah, well if you remember, you weren’t so loving when we first met.” He looked back at Jonathan and continued.

  “He yelled, ‘James!’ in a deep, commanding voice that sounded like God in Charlton Heston’s Ten Commandments. I totally freaked out. I stood there staring back at him, with my body frozen and my mouth hanging wide open. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. After this deity called my name a few more times, I finally answered him.”

  Joseph interrupted, “He finally managed to answer. The poor lad was literally shaking in his shoes when he sputtered, ‘Yes, sir.’ It was hilarious! So I played along and said, ‘Come here, son. I want you to hear a word from God.’ He staggered up the steps, nervously looking around to see if anyone was watching, and stood there in front of me. He couldn’t even look me in the eye, fool that he was.”

  “That’s right,” added James. “This dark figure leaned toward me, his voice wheezing like a wild animal, and I’m literally sweating bullets. Then just as his face begins to emerge from the darkness, he shouts, ‘Boooo!’”

  All three men started laughing and clapping their hands as they cheered.

  “I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. I was so startled that I lost my footing and fell down the concrete steps! My books went everywhere and students stared and laughed.” James shook his head and picked up his cigarette. “It was one of the most humiliating moments of my life.”

  The senator’s voice turned deathly serious. “Little did I know what was ahead of me.” James looked at Joseph as if asking for approval to continue. Joseph nodded his head. James nodded too.