The Song of Eleusis

by Phil Swann

  “I hope you’re not buying this garbage, Ben,” Paul said. “Why would I be involved in any of this stuff? What’s my motive?”

  Grey smiled. “I was hoping you would ask, because I had the same question. Why would he do it? You know, you’re quite a deal maker, Welker, and based on that I had an old friend at the SEC check up on you. Guess what? Turns out they have a file on you about a mile thick. Seems you’ve been making some pretty shady investments overseas, but current law prohibits anyone from doing anything about it. Okay, a little fishy, but still, what did that have to do with you killing the president? I couldn’t put it together. Then I remembered a little factoid from my investigation: on the day the president was killed, he was here in Nashville to deliver a speech regarding new appointments to the Security and Exchange Commission, along with new, stricter rules governing foreign investments. The picture was getting clearer.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Paul replied, forcing a half-laugh. “You think I masterminded a conspiracy to kill the president because of a speech?”

  This time it was Grey who didn’t respond.

  Paul continued, “Ben, this is ridiculous. Okay, Agent, let’s say I had the president killed. Then why all this? Why go after Ben? Based on your story, I got away with it.”

  “You’re right, and you might have gotten away with it if Timon Baros hadn’t come into the picture. I wonder what kind of shit-storm went through your brain when Ben told you he might have proof he was set up? Then, when he told you the president left him a clue…well, even if it was all BS, you couldn’t take the risk. That’s why you allowed Ben to run all over town chasing those elusive numbers, just in case it was true. I’m still a little fuzzy on why you brought Dr. Scotes and the whole Eleusinian Mysteries thing into your plan, but I’ll figure it out eventually. If I had to guess, I’d say it was just misdirection. It also spoke to Richard Christie’s twisted metaphysical justice compulsion—murder blessed by the gods, right?”

  Welker smiled and started clapping. “That’s quite a story, Agent Pryce. No, really, I work with people who make up stories for a living, and that was good. One problem, it’s just a story. Not a single piece of real evidence to connect me to any of it.”

  “Agreed, it’s flimsy. But I bet I find more once I dig into those SEC files. Until then, here’s something a bit more concrete. We ran ballistics on the bullet fired from the gun Mr. Donnellson had at the Parthenon, the one Ben ended up shooting the man he knew as Buchanan with. It turns out the bullet came from a gun registered to an Officer Steve Ramsey of Nashville PD. The cop guarding Ben at the prison. The one whose gun Ben took when he and Dr. Scotes escaped. The one Ben put into the glove compartment of your car.”

  “How’d Stevie get that gun, Paul?” Ben asked, staring at Paul.

  Paul looked at Ben and then back at Grey. There was no transition, it was like a switch was thrown. Paul’s face contorted, he looked like a completely different man, and then a voice Ben had never heard before came out of the man’s mouth. “I want my lawyer.”

  “Paul, why?” Ben yelled. “Was it just for money? Seriously? You killed Tom to make more money? Answer me, Paul. Damn it! Why?”

  Paul made no expression, said nothing, and refused to even acknowledge Ben.

  The door opened, and Bob Greenfield entered with two Nashville police officers.

  Grey nodded to Greenfield.

  “Gentlemen,” Greenfield said, “read Mr. Welker his rights.”

  Paul’s face never changed as the two officers cuffed him and led him out of the room.

  Ben looked away, not wanting to see the man’s face ever again.

  “Well done, Agent Pryce,” Greenfield said, slapping Grey on the back.

  Grey let out a long sigh. “You know, Bob, I think I’ll take that vacation now.”

  Bob Greenfield smiled and walked out of the room.

  “You okay?” Grey asked Ben.

  “I can’t believe…” Ben wiped his eyes. “He was my oldest friend.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Steven Donnellson said, rolling up next to the bed and putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I am.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ben raised his empty wine glass. Sarah held the bottle over it but didn’t pour.

  “You have to promise me you’ve stopped taking the pain meds.”

  “I have,” Ben answered.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say, you swear.”

  “I swear.”

  Sarah filled the glass with a red.

  “We’re not counting Oxycontin, right?”

  “Ben!”

  “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Geez!”

  Everybody laughed.

  Sarah lightly slapped Ben on the forehead and returned to her chair.

  “Has he always been like this?” Ellie asked, seated on the couch next to Ben.

  “Ben’s been trying to get my goat for as long as I’ve known him. At my and Tom’s wedding, he put a whoopee cushion under my eighty-five-year-old grandmother’s seat. She spent the entire ceremony apologizing to everyone sitting next to her.”

  “You didn’t?” she said, looking at Ben.

  “In my defense, I was young. I’d like to think I’ve grown out of such childishness. Hey, Stewart, come over here and pull my finger.”

  Stewart started to get up until Beatrice Whitt stopped him. “Joke, luv.”

  “Oh, yeah, I get it,” Stewart mumbled, sitting back down.

  Timon Baros was seated in an armchair next to Sarah. “Has anyone heard how our young Mr. Donnellson is doing today?”

  “I just came from the hospital,” Ben answered. “He’s being released tomorrow.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” Timon replied.

  Ellie asked, “Sarah, why has Steve had to stay in the hospital longer than Ben?”

  “I’m tougher,” Ben interjected.

  “Because of the scopolamine,” Sarah said. “Steve’s immune system was weakened, and he picked up a slight infection.”

  Ben said, “By the way, guess who I ran into at the hospital today?”

  “Who?” Sarah replied.

  “Julia. I gotta say those two were looking pretty chummy.”

  Sarah raised her hand and crossed her fingers. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  “Who’s Julia?” Ellie asked.

  “Stevie’s estranged wife,” Ben answered.

  The night had been planned since nearly the moment Ben awoke in the hospital. After Timon answered Ben’s pointed questions regarding who the other people in the Parthenon were and assuring him The Gathering had nothing to do with Buchanan, Ben agreed to stay silent on the matter if Timon promised to answer all his questions completely and honestly once things cooled down. Timon gladly agreed. A full week had gone by since Ben’s release, and everyone seated around the coffee table in Sarah Lambros’ living room knew why they were there.

  “Okay, Timon,” Ben said. “I kept up my part of the bargain, now it’s your turn.”

  “Thank you, Benjamin, for trusting me. Heaven knows you had reason not to.”

  “Don’t thank me, you had a good character witness,” Ben said.

  Timon looked at Ellie and smiled.

  “The floor is yours, sir.”

  “Right,” Timon said, leaning forward in his chair and clearing his throat. “Before I begin, and please excuse the dramatics, but I must ask that nothing I say ever—”

  Ben interrupted, “Yes, we all swear on a stack of Iliads it won’t leave this room.”

  Timon forced a smile. “Well…I’m not too sure where to start…”

  “How about with The Gathering? Let’s start there.”

  Timon sighed, obviously uncomfortable with doing what he promised Ben he’d do. “Right. Well, firstly, Benjamin, please know everything I told you about your father and our friendship was absolutely true, including our years in Greek military intelligence, as well as the organization we started called t
he Song of Eleusis.”

  Timon looked around the room. No one, including Ben, responded.

  Timon continued, “The Gathering has occurred every five years for centuries. Some believe uninterrupted since antiquity, while others claim it ended in the second century and didn’t reemerge again until the twelfth century. Either could be true.”

  “What exactly is The Gathering, Papau?” Ellie asked.

  “It’s a coming together of descendants from the two ancient royal families of Eleusis, the Eumolpidae and the Kerykes.”

  Ben asked, “You mean they reenact the Eleusinian Mysteries ceremony?”

  “No, that hasn’t happened for centuries. Nowadays, the Eumolpidae and Kerykes are no more connected to Demeter worship than the Freemasons are connected to the Temple of Solomon. There’s the tradition of saying the words and applying ancient titles, but it’s largely ceremonial and has little metaphysical implications.”

  “So what does ‘coming together’ mean, then?” Ellie asked.

  “The families assemble to discuss world events, identify trouble spots, and analyze the overall health of nations. Then they strategize on how best to address these issues—or if they should be addressed at all, which more often than not is the case.”

  “It sounds like a shadow government, Timon,” Ben said. “Scary stuff.”

  “And that perception is precisely why The Gathering is kept secret.”

  “Can the families really wield that much power, Timon?” Sarah asked.

  “In some instances, yes. But usually the families have no more influence to alter the course of history than anybody else. A good example would be the events of 1914 and 1939.”

  “World War One and World War Two,” Ellie said.

  Timon nodded. “Neither family could do anything to prevent the inevitable. However, after the second world war, both families decided steps could be taken to prevent such an unspeakable atrocity from ever happening again in Europe.”

  “How?” Ben asked.

  “By European integration. It began in 1948 with the Hague Congress, which led to the creation of the European Movement International. In 1952, the European Coal and Steel Community became the first step in the federation of Europe. The aim was to eliminate future wars by pooling heavy industry. In 1957, the Treaty of Rome created the European Economic Community, what we now call the European Union, a single market and laws that allow freedom of movement of all people, goods and services, as well as a common policy on trade throughout Western Europe.”

  Ben broke in, “Wait, you mean the families were responsible for the creation of the European Union?”

  “Let’s just say they were very encouraging of the idea, shall we?” Timon replied.

  Everyone looked at each other.

  Timon continued, “The EU had broad acceptance throughout Europe, but not by everyone. My former employer, multibillionaire industrialist Lord Vardis Papadakis, was one who stood vehemently opposed to European integration. He was a devout nationalist. Which, I suppose, leads us to why we’re all gathered here tonight.”

  “Let me guess, he was a descendent of one of the families,” Ben said.

  Timon nodded. “Kerykes, of distant and dubious bloodline, but Kerykes nonetheless. As well as being a fanatical nationalist obsessed with destroying the European Union, Papadakis was a megalomaniac. He believed if he could elevate his status within The Gathering, he could bring about the EU’s demise.”

  “How was he going to do that?” Ben asked.

  “In two despicable ways that, if successful, just might have worked.”

  “And they were?” Sarah asked.

  “One, eliminate the current leadership.”

  “You mean kill them?” Ellie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And two?” Ben asked.

  “Claim ownership of the completed song you and I played together in the Parthenon. Ben, that song, Demeter’s song, that beautiful undivided polyphony you and I performed, hadn’t been heard for thousands of years. You and I were the first.”

  “Why?”

  “Prudence. It was decided long ago that ownership of the completed song would for all practical purposes sanctify its owner and tilt the balance of power within the families. Thus, in their wisdom, the ancients ordered the two pieces be kept separate. It was a profound and powerful symbolic gesture that’s been adhered to ever since. The mother, as the one piece is referred to, is all that’s ever been heard. The other piece, the daughter, was believed to be lost forever. But there were some who theorized the daughter did still exist in the protection of someone with a direct bloodline dating back to the royal families of Eleusis. Fifteen years ago, Papadakis discovered who that person was. That’s when his campaign to possess the completed song began in earnest.”

  “How did he learn who it was?” Ellie asked.

  “That I don’t know. But Papadakis was a ruthless man of unlimited resources.”

  “Who had the other part of the song, Timon?” Ben asked, already knowing the answer.

  Timon looked Ben in the eye. “Benjamin, you are Eumolpidae. Your family has been the guardian of Demeter’s song for millennia.”

  Ben dropped his head. When he spoke, it nearly came out as a whisper. “Dad.”

  Timon paused before he replied, “No, Benjamin, your mother.”

  Ben’s head jerked up.

  “Antonia Katrina Gabris was Eumolpidae. Her bloodline dated back thousands of years to the original Eumolpidae royals. It was as uninterrupted a lineage as any single person in either family could claim. As such, Antonia was the revered High Priestess of Demeter, a person of considerable influence, but a position she never once abused. Shakespeare wrote, ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’ In your mother’s case, all three were true. She was an extraordinary woman, Benjamin. But I’m sure you know that already.”

  Ben had no words to respond.

  Sarah asked, “Did Mr. Lambros know?”

  “Of course. Nikolai was an ardent crusader for justice, not only because of his innate sense of right and wrong, but he also understood from the moment he fell in love with Antonia she’d require protecting. That, perhaps more than any other reason, was why he and Antonia immigrated to America. He believed she would be safer here than in Greece.” Timon moved to the edge of his seat and addressed Ben directly. “Benjamin, when your father came to me years ago with the idea of initiating a clandestine investigative wing for the families, I knew why. He was intent that no one would ever bring harm to your mother. The SOE existed largely to protect your family…I still am.”

  Everyone looked at Ben who remained still, staring into space.

  “Benjamin, are you okay?” Timon asked.

  As if awoken from a trance, Ben turned to Timon and nodded. “Go on. How is this related to everything that’s happened in the last year and a half?”

  “Fifteen years ago, Papadakis placed an emissary here in Nashville to keep track of your family in hopes of locating the complete song. He financed him and made sure he had status. Your brother and I tried for years to identify the person but never could. Tom believed he was getting close just before he was killed.”

  “Paul Welker,” Ben said, making a fist.

  “Yes,” Timon replied.

  Sarah said, “So he didn’t kill my husband for money, he did it to keep Tom quiet.”

  “I’m afraid both reasons are true, my dear. Some time ago, the SOE became aware of someone in America engaging in large currency transactions. By large, I mean in the millions.”

  “Paul Welker,” Ellie said.

  “Why?” Sarah asked.

  “I believe Mr. Welker foresaw the inevitable. Papadakis was a very old man whose time on this earth was coming to an end. I suspect Mr. Welker concluded it was time for him to start looking out for his own self-interests. Agent Pryce is a very smart man. He was right, Mr. Welker was shorting the Euro.”

  “What’s that?” Ellie as
ked.

  “It’s essentially a bet the euro’s value will fall relative to another currency. Mr. Welker began borrowing large sums of euros, with the agreement of repurchasing them in the future, and immediately exchanging them for dollars. This is called shorting the euro. When the euro falls relative to the dollar, the cost of repurchasing those euros would be lower, and a profit realized. Mr. Welker knew what Papadakis had put into motion and understood if the completed song was recovered, then Papadakis, or his emissary, would become the leader of the families. Once that happened, like-minded individuals could be placed into leadership positions within organizations like the World Bank, the IMF, and the World Trade Organization. It would only be a matter of time before the Euro Zone and the EU itself would sunder, sending the euro plummeting and the entire continent into economic collapse. Mr. Welker would reap billions, possibly hundreds of billions, making him one of the wealthiest and most powerful individuals in the world.”

  “My whole life is a lie,” Ben uttered softly. “Everything I am is because some maniacal old rich guy made it happen.”

  “No,” Timon responded. “Papadakis may have opened the initial doors, but it was you who had to walk through them. Had you failed as a songwriter, he would have been forced to find another way to elevate Mr. Welker into Nashville society. He didn’t, because you succeeded. Never doubt your extraordinary talent, Benjamin. Never.”

  “Thanks, Timon, but I’m not so sure about that.” Ben paused. “Timon, why didn’t you tell me all of this from the beginning?”

  “I’m sorry, Benjamin, but I didn’t know who I could trust. The person I was looking for, Papadakis’ spy, could have been anyone, even you.”

  “You’re not serious?”

  “Benjamin, you did spend time living in Europe, you did renounce your family’s wishes for a career in government, and you and Tom did quarrel. I had to consider the possibility.”

  Ben nodded, and a sadness washed over his face.

  “Papau, the lyre?” Ellie asked.