“Mr. Heinrich helped me up and he took me into The Tomb. He opened this huge wooden door, held up with large, black cast hinges. The door must have come out of the dark ages. Anyway, that’s when he directed me inside.
“When I walked in, the only light I could see shone through a small window at the top of a large dome directly in the center of the foyer. It was as if he planned to bring me in at the exact hour that the sun would shine in the center of the room. Anyway, he then closed the large door and it squealed and moaned as if it was alive, crying out to me, warning me to turn back. But I was too curious and too anxious to be a part of something. So, I walked in, ignoring my sixth sense that was telling me to run away.
“Mr. Heinrich informed me that the fraternity was interested in accepting me as a pledge, because I was recommended by a ‘higher power.’ He asked me if I was willing to accept his invitation. Of course, I accepted, because I was too covetous of the position that these young men seemed to have. They represented everything I wanted out of life: respect, prestige and fellowship. I was scared, but I was flattered at the same time.
“The man immediately ushered me into the center of the foyer, toward the beam of light where the air felt cold and damp. I remember staring into the darkness, peering through the light, watching dust and airborne particulates dancing in front of my eyes. The contrast caused me to lose my sense of balance, making me feel nauseous. As I stood in the light, Mr. Heinrich grabbed my arm, put his lips to my ear and whispered in that godlike voice, ‘One day, you’ll thank your father for this. He… is your higher power.’ Joseph then backed away, slowly disappearing into the darkness. And I didn’t see him for several years after that. However, when the time was right, Joseph approached me about joining Caesar.”
“So, is that it?” asked Jonathan.
“Yes.”
Jonathan raised his hands in protest. “What happened after Joseph left?”
“Oh! Well…that’s when all hell broke loose. That’s when I changed. And Joseph was the last person to see me, to see the young man I used to be. After he left, the fraternity began a process of hazing that lasted nearly thirty-six hours. I was denied food and water, and nearly died from exhaustion by the time it was over.”
Joseph continued watching Jonathan from a distance, intently studying his level of empathy.
Jonathan’s forehead began to wrinkle as he asked James out of concern, “What did they do?”
The senator answered, “While I stood there alone in the beam of light, I began to hear bloodcurdling screams, grunting, barking, scratching and howling. They were the most frightening sounds I’d ever heard in my life. The piercing sounds and chilling cries still haunt me to this day. There was something almost demonic about them, something inhuman, paralyzing me with fear.”
Jonathan fixed his eyes firmly on the senator.
“Amidst the screams, I heard a group of voices cry out in unison, ‘Take all of your clothes off, and get on your knees! Now!’ Of course I was so scared I did exactly as I was told. I removed all my clothes, got on my knees and waited for further instructions, naked and center stage.
“Soon more voices shouted, ‘James Edward McCutchen, you are kneeling before the Order of Skull and Bones. Standing among you in the darkness are generations of men who have paved the way for you. You must prove worthy, obedient and submissive if you desire to become one of us. If you fail, you’ll be thrown out—never to be considered again. Do you understand?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ Then suddenly a couple of guys picked me up from the cold floor and carried me off into another dark room.
“They carried me through a dark corridor, illuminated only by a few small candles. I tried to control my body and walk with them, but they were too forceful, swinging me from side to side with every turn. Eventually, I gave up and lay limp in their arms as they dragged me through the darkness. My body was bruised, scratched and cut from the floor and stones that pummeled my bare skin.
“The countless skulls and skeletal remains scattered throughout The Tomb overwhelmed me. Skulls and bones of human adults and children had been strategically placed like some kind of sadistic home decor. The castle was cold and drafty, and the moaning and screaming continued until I finally arrived in the first room; the room they called The Dungeon. It was there that I was forced to consume a large volume of alcohol and forced to detail every one of my previous sexual encounters. I was slapped, soaked in ice water and slapped some more until I could no longer think straight. By the time they stopped the inquisition, I had grown limp with exhaustion. And that was just the first hour.”
“My God! What more could they have done?” Jonathan asked as his eyes contorted from discomfort.
“Well, they tied my hands and feet next, and brought me into another room where they forced me to wrestle some of the guys in mud. I think it was something like three on one. Needless to say, they beat the shit out of me.
“After that, they ushered me into another dark room where I was tied to a chair for hours, while I listened to more of the demonic screaming and moaning. Mixed in with the screams were countless criticisms and denigrations about my masculinity. When I protested, they threw rotten tomatoes at me. It didn’t take long before I submitted to their claims. The psychodrama was nearly more than I could handle. I eventually learned to agree with everything they told me. I learned to obey every command without question.
“This went on, like I said, for nearly thirty-six hours. I went from room to room, or as they called it, from session to session. I remember one point where I was so out of it, that now I wonder if I was drugged in addition to the alcohol.
“I also remember being in a room full of girls who were wearing animal masks to disguise themselves. Somehow, it was really scary. They were laughing and ridiculing me. Everything around me seemed to be spinning. I just lay there in the fetal position until that session was over. Eventually, I was carried to another room and the abuse continued.
“When it was over, they cleaned me up, dressed me in a perfectly tailored suit and put on a very formal presentation. They listed the terms of my membership and pledged their lifelong commitment to me as an official member of the Order of Skull and Bones. Remarkably, I left The Tomb excited about what had just happened, even though I was more than likely dehydrated and in shock from the hazing. Later, I gathered my things from the dormitory and moved into that three-story castle that I so revered. My S and B brothers have stood by my side to this very day. Some of them are members of Caesar. Some of them are at our disposal in other arenas.”
“My God, Senator, I don’t know how you made it through that.”
“Jim. Call me Jim.”
“Okay, Jim,” said Jonathan, grinning pleasantly. “Where did you draw your strength from?”
“I don’t know. But now, I’m glad I did it. I wouldn’t change a thing if I could.”
Senator McCutchen reached into his coat pocket to grab another cigarette. He lit it and inhaled good and long.
The three men were silent for a moment. Jonathan tried to absorb the reality of the culture of the secret societies. He looked at the two men, his eyes moving from one man to the other. “What are we doing?” His eyes interrogated his teachers. “Where do we go from here?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Joseph answered, spinning the red liquid in his wineglass. “Besides introducing you to some of our history, we also want to invite you to our annual retreat where we host the Trilateral Commission. This opportunity is usually reserved for ranking members with five or more years of service, but we’re willing to make an exception with you.”
“Thank you,” said Jonathan. His brow furrowed. “But what exactly is the Trilateral Commission?”
Joseph leaned toward Jonathan with his fingers gripped tight. “The Trilateral Commission is a global culmination of several societies such as the Illuminati, Caesar, Freemasonry and select global delegates. It’s an organization assembled under the authority of the United Nation’s Council on Foreign Relatio
ns to discuss the purposes and goals of our very existence as a race. The Commission’s Annual Retreat—or CAR as we call it—is the only time Caesar and our associate brotherhoods congregate to discuss the progress of our amalgamated agenda and united purpose. Only the highest-ranking members from each organization may be present. We call this our ‘inner circle.’
“Since I’ve been asked to be the keynote speaker this year, I would like for you to absorb my usual responsibilities of managing guest logistics, lodging and our staff. Of course, this is an executive position, so you need only delegate these responsibilities to our managerial staff at The Palace.” With his thin fingertips tapping each other, Joseph smiled his aging smile, and asked, “So what do you think? Are you interested?”
Jonathan rummaged through his thoughts for a moment, his hand rubbing against his developing five o’clock shadow. “I suppose it would be considered quite an honor to represent Caesar with so little tenure.” He thought some more. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll do it!”
Joseph clapped his hands together. “That’s wonderful, Jonathan! James here will get you off on the right foot and introduce you to the team.”
At that moment, Joseph’s cell phone began to vibrate. He answered. “Hello?… Yes, we’re still eating. What can I help you with?… What kind of problem?” Joseph began to look concerned and move uncomfortably in his chair. “Who are they?… How long have they been there?… Okay… I understand… Okay, okay. Listen to me. Call Danny at home and tell him everything you told me. Tell him that I’ll be there in the morning to discuss a solution… I know… I’m sure you’ll do fine… It’s no problem at all. Good night.”
Senator McCutchen and Jonathan looked concerned.
“Who was that?” asked the senator.
Joseph replied, “It was Tammy”—he looked at Jonathan—“our assistant chief of staff. She said security’s spotted an unidentified vehicle on the premises. She’s going to call Danny, our head of security.” Joseph waved his hand as if to literally brush off the whole situation. “He’ll take care of it. No worries. It’s probably some teenagers parking in the woods. We get that sometimes.”
Chapter 31
Seven Hundred
Sarah stood next to Blake with her back to the side of the van and asked him what had happened to the bus driver in Chapleaux. Mark ran his surveillance checks: shifting the monitoring system from one screen to another, checking the audio bites on The Palace’s phone lines and two-way radios.
Blake stood in the back of the van with one arm pressing against the back door and one against the side and revealed his dark secret. With nothing to lose, he poured out his soul, his eyes searching the past. “Anyway, after Frank completed his investigation, we had an abandoned car lying in a blackened pile of debris—nothing more. There was no body, no witness, nothing. Whoever was responsible ran the car into the metering station and just walked away. We were at a complete loss, with no one to blame, although we suspected PPI. We had to come up with something fast.
“Then I remembered that little pissant bus driver from Texas. He wandered around town the next few days because we made the scabs go back home without him.”
Suddenly, Blake felt detached, separating himself from his emotions because of what he was about to confess. His eyes glossed over as he stared into space and described what happened next.
“Frank and I found the bus driver walking the streets. We picked him up, beat him unconscious and set him on fire. Then we placed his body inside the car, took some pictures and sent his prints and blood to the lab.”
Sarah and Heather gasped.
“How could you do that?” asked Sarah, her eyes showing her disgust.
“I’m not sure.” Blake lifted his head, remorse in his eyes. “We knew it was wrong, but we were desperate. The whole town was distraught, and I didn’t really know how to deal with the loss of my family. So, all of the survivors—me included—took a vote. We agreed that after what PPI did to us, sacrificing one man’s life wasn’t too much to ask after what we had been through. We’re all guilty.
“The problem was, before we placed the bus driver’s body at the scene, PPI was clean. There wasn’t any evidence that they were involved. At least with their bus driver in the car we were able to hold them responsible.”
Still disturbed by Blake’s murderous act, Sarah asked, “Then who injected the oxygen and ran the copper tubing? Did you do that as well?”
“No! We didn’t do that. It was Caesar, remember? Mr. Radisson made that perfectly clear!”
At that moment, Mark raised his hand in a stopping motion and said, “Sshhh. I’m getting something here. I got an audio on security’s handheld radio. They’re on channel two-A. Sshhh…listen.” Mark turned up the volume for all to hear.
“Seven hundred to base… Seven hundred to base…”
“Go ahead seven hundred.”
“Yeah, we’ve got a problem here.”
“What’s the problem, seven hundred?”
“I’m out by the maintenance service entrance and I’ve spotted the unmarked vehicle. You’re not going to believe this, but Jack Wilson just got out of the van and stepped into another vehicle. They’re heading toward the gate. Do you copy?”
“Copy. Are you alone?”
“Affirmative. Can you send backup? Please advise.”
“I copy that, seven hundred. I’ll send some of the guys and we’ll close the gate.”
“Ten-four. Seven hundred clear.”
“Base clear.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Mark threw his headset down.
“What are we gonna do?” asked Heather.
“We’ve got to load our guns and get the hell out of here!” replied Sarah.
Mark disconnected the current reel of tape from the recorder and yelled, “Someone get the files and tapes into the backpack! Now!”
“Got it,” replied Heather. She frantically threw the files of Caesar’s members and the used rolls of audiotape into an empty backpack. She lifted her head. “Someone call Jack! He’s got to get out of here!”
“I’m on it!” responded Mark as he shuffled through his gear in search of his cell phone. Sarah helped Mark gather up the rest of the tapes. Jack never answered. The call went straight to his voice mail. Mark didn’t think to leave Jack a message. He hung up and continued packing.
Blake helped load the backpack and zipped it closed when it was filled to capacity. Since he was the last one to handle the bag, he instinctively threw the pack over his shoulder. He checked to make sure that his gun still had a full magazine. Without even thinking, he opened the van’s side door and jumped out.
The rest of the team looked at Blake. They were taken aback by his zeal to save the documents and his readiness to escape on foot. Sarah looked shocked that he would leave.
“Where in the hell are you going?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not going in that van. Are you kidding? You’re sitting ducks in that thing. They won’t catch me on foot.” Blake pointed into the woods. “I’ll be fine out there.”
At that moment, the security guard’s voice once again blared through the audio system: “Seven hundred to base. They’re getting out of the van. Please advise!”
“This is base. I just talked to Danny. He said to stop them at any cost. They are on private property. Shoot to kill! I repeat, shoot to kill!”
“Seven hundred clear!”
“Damn it!” yelled Mark as he tripped over the miscellaneous supplies and papers scattered throughout the floor, rushing to climb into the driver’s seat.
“Heather, are you with me?” Mark asked in a frenzied attempt to assemble a plan. He feverishly climbed into the driver’s seat and grabbed the keys and started the engine.
Heather looked at Mark, then back at Sarah. “Yeah, I’m with you!”
Sarah looked at Blake. In an instant, she decided to jump out of the van and go with him. She knew where he was from and believed that he had the skills to successfully survive in
the forest. Besides, her instincts were telling her that he was right about the van.
“We need to split up! I’m going with Blake!” Sarah jumped out of the van’s side door.
Still looking at Sarah, Heather yelled with increasing intensity, “Go. Go! Go!”
Mark hit the gas when Sarah cleared away. Heather grabbed the side-door handle and pulled hard against the g-force of the moving vehicle in order to close the steel barricade. Struggling to keep her balance, she climbed into the front seat with Mark, bumping every square inch of soft tissue on her body in the process.
Shots were fired as they pulled away. The front windshield splintered in two locations from bullets that nearly missed the two passengers. The security guard pelted the van with 5.56-millimeter rounds from his HK53 semiautomatic tactical hybrid, commonly used by NATO soldiers.
Heather grabbed her Glock 9mm pistol, cocked it, rolled down her window and held the gun with both hands as she prepared to return fire as needed. She slouched down in her seat. “That was close! Get us out of here, Mark! We’re not far from the highway. Hurry, let’s go!”
“I’m working on it!” Mark spun the wheel, causing the van to turn 180 degrees in the opposite direction. Dirt and rocks spewed out from behind the van, leaving a cloud of dust billowing in the darkness.
The security guard stepped out of sight, hidden by a thick tree trunk that stood tall near the side of the road where he had previously scouted their location. He leaned against the tree’s bark and aimed as best he could at the van’s tires. The bullets pinged and ricocheted off of the curved steel bumper, shattering one of the taillights.
Sarah and Blake ran into the dense forest. Without guidance from a lighted path or previous experience in the woods, the duo maladroitly stumbled through the brush and young trees that sprouted amidst the leaves and fallen timber. The only luminous assistance they received was an occasional breakthrough of ambitious moonlight. The baby trees slapped their faces as they ran through the brush, while their older siblings punched Blake’s and Sarah’s shoulders when their unfocused eyes misjudged their proximitylocation. It was as if the forest was on Caesar’s payroll, hoping to get a reward for the escapees’ capture.
Killing the Giants Page 16
