Anna's lips thinned. "Yeah, I've heard that conspiracy theory. Freemasons and flying saucers and Knights Templar, all that kinda stuff. You honestly expect me to believe the Tyrants are part of that?"
"They call themselves the Illuminati." Lebedev became grave, and his manner gave Kelso a moment's pause. "The Tyrants are just their blunt instrument, one of many of their tools. The Illuminati are pulling their strings. A group of powerful men and women who believe that they alone have the will and the right to govern the future of our world."
She shook her head. "What you're talking about doesn't exist. It's the creation of a paranoid mind."
"Is it?" Lebedev paused. "Tell me, wasn't the very same charge leveled at you very recently?" He leaned closer. "If nothing else, I would think that the events of the last twenty-four hours would have taught you that the line between fact and fiction is not as well defined as you thought."
She was quiet for a long moment. "All right. Say I buy that. But what the hell does a group of rich people carving up the world have to do with Matt's death, him and all the others? Not just Dansky, but the other ones I found."
"And there's more where that came from," offered D-Bar, hovering nearby. "A lot more."
Lebedev pointed at her face. "You're augmented. Those lovely eyes of yours. Because of that, you represent something to the Illuminati. You, and everyone else who has chosen to augment themselves. You're a threat." He gestured at the air. "New eyes, new arms. Faster reflexes, quicker thinking. But where does that end? When humans have the capacity to change the course of their own evolution, where does that lead?"
Anna struggled with the thought. "It... it gives people control."
He nodded slowly. "Control of their destiny. And a human race with that capacity is one beyond the influence of the Illuminati. That makes for an unstable world, and they can't have that." Lebedev's tone turned cold. "We mustn't be allowed to take charge."
D-Bar came closer. "The United Nations are coming under pressure. They're being pushed toward a referendum on worldwide regulation of aug technology. That's what this is all about. Senator Skyler, all the rest? That's the Tyrants moving the pieces on the game board for their bosses. Setting up the dominoes. Your pal Ryan was just caught in the cross fire."
It made a horrible, chilling kind of sense. The Tyrants were working on lines of influence, removing people who might act as impediments to a greater plan, or intimidating those they needed to use. The coin cut the palm of Anna's hand as she gripped it hard.
"Human history turns on the smallest of moments, Ms. Kelso, and one of those moments is almost here," said Lebedev. "If the UN go to a ballot..." He frowned. "Whoever controls the direction of that vote will be able to manipulate the future of mankind." After a moment, he put down his cup and beckoned Anna to her feet. "I know it's a lot to take in. Come with me, I want you to meet someone. They might be able to make things clearer for you."
D-Bar had already taken the flash drive Anna got from Temple's house, and he gestured with it as he walked away. "I'm gonna get started on analyzing this. See what we got. Tell Janus I said hi, yeah?"
"Who is 'Janus'?" asked Anna.
"I'll introduce you" said Lebedev.
"You're a very good soldier, Ben," said Namir, from the ops room doorway. "But there's something you lack."
Saxon saw the other man in the computer screen, a warped reflection of those hard eyes and that scarred face. "Enlighten me."
"You can't see where the line is. You don't know how to compartmentalize yourself. You're not willing to make that sacrifice." Namir took a casual step into the ops room. "That's what we have to do. Put up walls around the parts of our souls we want to keep sacrosanct. Barriers to protect our humanity."
Saxon tensed. "Is that what you do?" He thought of the man in the photo at the house, the father and husband. "You're one man in here, with us. Out there, you're someone else?" He rose slowly, his fury building. "That's not something to be proud of. That's a pattern of psychosis!"
Namir shook his head slowly. "You're very good at what you do, Ben. But inside, you're weak. You can't let go. I thought that might change after what happened in Queensland. I had hopes."
"Were you a part of that?" Saxon pointed at the screen and his voice rose. "Is this about those bastards holding your bloody leash?"
Namir's tone never altered. "I want you to think very carefully about what you say next. Because this is the most important choice you will ever make. What happened in Moscow, then in the house in London ... Those things were not the tests of your character, or your loyalty." He gestured to the monitor. "This is the test, Ben. This is what will define who you are, and your future with the Tyrants. Do you understand? I need to know if you can be like me. Like the rest of us."
Saxon's gorge rose; he was sickened by the other man's words, revolted by the thought of what black and poisonous truth lay behind them. "Like you?" he husked. "You don't hide your humanity away, Namir. You only tell yourself that you do. The truth is, you're not human anymore. You've lost that, you and Hardesty, Federova, and the others. You're a weapon that thinks like a man."
The other man gave a weary sigh. "That's a shame. I really wanted you to understand. I hate to see great potential wasted."
"Tell me what you did ..." Saxon spat, his voice rising to a shout. "Tell me!"
Namir's gaze never wavered as his metallic hand curled into a fist. "Do you know what real strength is, Ben? Sacrifice."
CHAPTER TENAerial Transit Corridor—Gulf of St. Lawrence—North Atlantic
It was as if the blood had been drained from him; Saxon was suddenly an empty vessel, echoing and cold. In all the years of battle in conflict zones across the globe, in those moments when death had been a heartbeat away from claiming him, he had never felt the same slow, sickening shock that swept about him now. Carefully, he gathered up the vu-phone and pocketed it, moving slowly to keep one of the ops room consoles between him and Namir.
"I'll give you the truth, if you want it," said the Tyrant commander. "There's little point in being coy about it now."
"Operation Rainbird." Saxon ground out the words like pieces of broken glass. "What did you do?"
Namir sighed. "I wish I could make it clear to you how lucky you are, Ben. Recruitment into the Tyrants is not a reward that just anyone is given. You need to be superlative. You need to be more than just a fool with a gun." He walked a little farther into the room, and Saxon stiffened as he felt the floor shift slightly beneath their feet; the jet was banking, turning eastward. Namir went on. "You were on the radar a long time before I came to you in Queensland. We have ongoing dossiers on many potentials. Our missions have a high level of attrition. Fatalities like Joe Wexler are a regular occurrence."
"Get to the point!" snapped Saxon.
"Oh, I will. But you have to see the big picture first." Namir nodded to himself and pointed. "You were in the prime percentile, Ben. All that was stopping you were your ... shortcomings. We freed you from that."
"What?" He could feel the dark answer coming; on some level, he already knew and he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want it to be true.
"Wexler ... It took his wife's death to bring him into the fold. Now, Gunther Hermann, he was a very different subject. Much more direct. The group made certain problems he had in Germany go away, and in return he was in our debt. Not that what he owed mattered. He came to the Tyrants willingly, eyes open. But you?" Namir cocked his head, weighing Saxon up. "The man I wanted for my team, the man I know you can be, he was being held back." He nodded again. "Throughout your entire military service, first to King and Country, then to Belltower, you've been shackled to some kind of outdated moral compass. You have a dream of being the 'good soldier.' And while other men have had that beaten from them by harsh reality, you hold on to it, Ben. Against all odds, you hold on. That's why you never rose in rank. We've both been leaders of men. And that means sometimes you have to send men to die, and do it without flinching."
"I'd never make
my men take a risk I wouldn't take myself!" he shot back.
"Indeed," Namir allowed. "That's your failure. You've been abandoned by every family you had. Your parents, your nation, your army, your employer ... And yet still you refuse to see the callous truth. You're blinded by your own hope." He smiled. "I took that from you. I broke those bonds because I thought it would make you stronger."
"The falsified data for the mission ... You had it substituted for the real thing!" Saxon's muscles tensed. He wanted to strike out, but he had to know the full dimensions of the betrayal. "How?"
"We have assets inside the Belltower corporation. It wasn't difficult." He sighed. "Those men, they were a hindrance to you. They had to be sacrificed. It was a test. If you perished there in the desert alongside them, then you had no place with us. But if you came out alone ..."
"I tried to save them!" Saxon shouted. "Duarte ... I could have saved his life!"
"He was expendable," Namir countered. "They all were. I gave Hardesty the order to break Rainbird because I needed to know. I wanted to see if you were willing to live, Ben. If you had the courage to survive."
Saxon's voice was low and hard. "You heartless fucking bastard ..." His hand slipped toward the pocket where the Buzzkill was concealed; but the weapon would be barely an insect bite to the Tyrant commander, with dermal armor sheathing what there was of his flesh.
"Survivor's guilt. That, and your instinct to be loyal to a man who saved your life." Namir studied him. "The psych profile said that was all I needed to control you. But these things are so hard to determine. The human mind is a chaotic system. And as much as men are exactly the animals you expect them to be, sometimes they are not." He frowned. "I don't need to ask you to choose. I can see the answer in your eyes. You can't let go. Hardesty was right. You don't have the strength to kill cold."
"I'm pleased I can prove you wrong." With a blink, Saxon shifted vision modes, getting ready.
Namir drew a wicked-looking combat blade from a sheath on his belt. "You are going to fight for it, aren't you?" he asked. "At least show me that courage. Let me know my faith in you wasn't entirely misplaced." Saxon drew the stun gun and thumbed off the safety catch. The other man laughed. "Oh, that's a choice you'll regret," he sneered.
Saxon met his gaze. "I'm not going to use it on you." The reflex booster kicked in and he brought up the nonlethal weapon, firing two rounds into the flat, glassy surface of the main display console. The stun darts, thick shells the size of a shotgun cartridge, discharged a powerful surge of voltage on impact; the console erupted in a violent shower of sparks and acrid smoke. Surge buffers in the ops room tripped, plunging it into darkness, but Saxon was already seeing the space in low-light mode.
Namir reacted, sweeping in with a lunging, lethal attack that Saxon dodged by a hair, the blade cutting the air near his face.
The stink of burnt plastic reached the fire sensors in the ceiling and immediately triggered a carillon of buzzing alarms. Saxon snatched at a monitor screen and tore it from a desk, with a snake nest of cables trailing behind it. As puffs of fire-retardant powder began to rain from safety nozzles overhead, he slammed the display into Namir's head with such force that the screen shattered and the Tyrant commander staggered back under the blow.
Saxon took the moment and vaulted over a workstation and into the corridor beyond. As he ran, the familiar itch in his jawbone arose, Namir's voice issuing out of his mastoid comm. "All call signs, ignore the alarms" he snarled, "Gray is rogue. Intercept and terminate!"
Dundalk—Maryland—United States of America
"Hello," said the voice, bereft of anything that could make it possibly seem human. "I'm pleased to see you are unharmed ."
Anna glanced at the videoscreen set up inside the army tent, and then back at Lebedev, who stood near the door flap, watching her reaction. "What's this? More games?"
"Some of the people we work with prefer to keep their identities a secret," he noted. "Isn't that right, Janus?"
"I'm afraid so, Juan," said the voice. "It would compromise not only me, and Juggernaut, but also your lives if I were to tell you who I am."
Anna folded her arms and gave the hazy shape on the display a level stare. "After all that stuff about conspiracies and distrust, you're playing the need-to-know card?" She shook her head. "If I know anything, it's that the less truth you have, the less trust follows. You could be anyone. You could be working with the Tyrants or the ... their masters."
"You find it hard to say the name, don't you?" On the screen, the digital shadow shifted slightly. "Illuminati. A layered word, heavy with meaning and counter-meaning. You don't want to believe. It's an understandable reaction."
"Our colleague here has been opposing them for a long time," said Lebedev.
"How did you get mixed up in all this?" Anna demanded. "What's your angle? Are you in it for the kicks, like D-Bar, or for the greater good like him?" She inclined her head toward Lebedev.
"Neither," came the reply, and for a moment Anna thought she sensed something like melancholy under the words. "I found Juggernaut and became one of their circle. I'm doing this for the same reason as you, Anna. Because they killed someone who was important to me."
It didn't sound like a lie; but then with all the layers of digital masking in place, she wondered if she could ever read anything about the ghost-hacker.
"Trust is a rare commodity these days. But you can only accumulate it by spending it. An ironic fact, in present circumstances." There was a pause. "You have questions. I'll answer them if lean."
Anna frowned. "This ... vote. The United Nations. You're telling me that all the assassinations have been to set that up to fall one way?"
"Yes. " The screen blinked and became a map of the world. As Janus spoke, dots of red appeared across the span of nations, each briefly displaying a data window with death certificates, accident reports, security camera footage, and other information sources. "What you're seeing are the targets of the Tyrants. Hundreds of people, all of whom have lines of influence that can be drawn back to the proposed regulation vote, and how it will play out. "
Over the map, a matrix of connections formed, a web bringing each person together, showing the human effect of the targeted individuals. Anna was suddenly reminded of a stone dropped in a lake, the ripples radiating outward; only here, the ripples were being guided, controlled—and in many cases, erased.
One thread through the complex knot of effect was highlighted. "Consider this " said Janus, displaying an image of a smiling middle-aged man and his family. "A midlevel minister in the Italian government, with many friends in the Euro-Parliament. His son was cured of debilitating brain damage because of a neural implant. He is well disposed toward the spread of human augmentation technology. The recommendations he makes carry weight. A committee of United Nations representatives are currently entertaining a suggestion from certain groups to call for a vote on the regulation of H.E. development..."
Lebedev nodded slowly. "But before the minister can be consulted on behalf of his country, his wife is suddenly diagnosed with a variant neo-SARS strain. His family comes first. He's unable to fulfill his duties. Instead, the man who replaces him on Italy's technology advisory board is a known associate of William Taggart, the pro-humanist... and now that country is supporting the push for the ballot." He spread his hands. "That's just one story. You saw another, more violent approach firsthand, with Skyler and Dansky."
Anna's eyes narrowed. "What happened to the minister's wife?"
"She died from complications. The minister has been suspended on medical grounds and is currently undergoing treatment for depression." The map returned. "This is how they work, Anna. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny actions, individually small, collectively gigantic, all working in concert. Every person they have exerted control over has been a part of a plan to dominate a vote that has yet to happen. And even this is only one element of an even greater schema."
"The Illuminati are working in tandem with one o
f their satellite groups, a faction called Majestic 12 born out of the Cold War era, a technology division of sorts ... Together, they're in the process of securing a power base for something beyond the scope of the UN vote. Something much bigger."
Anna was reeling from the import of what she was hearing, caught between incredulity and acceptance. "Bigger than regulating the most radical science ever created?"
"We can see only the edges of the conspiracy " Janus told her. "But what we can be sure of is that the Illuminati s goal is and always has been command over the future of humanity. A New World Order, without freedoms, without questions. Without end."
She turned away, shaking her head. "No ... No! It's too much! I've come here looking for a murderer and you're telling me that the world is turning on all this?" Anna looked toward Lebedev. "Listen to me. I don't care about your damned conspiracy theories! I don't care about who else they've killed! I've thrown away everything I have because I want just one, single thing—Justice, for Matt Ryan." Her voice caught. "He saved my life. I couldn't save him. So I am going to find the person who killed him and make them pay. If you won't help me do that, then I'll be better off alone." Furious, she stormed out of the tent and strode away over the uneven concrete floor.
Aerial Transit Corridor—Gulf of St. Lawrence—North Atlantic
Saxon tried to think of a worse tactical situation he had been in, and came up empty. Trapped on board an airborne jet with four heavily augmented mercenaries and no means of escape, armed only with a couple of rounds of stun-dart ammo that was nearly useless against these adversaries ...Yeah, it's pretty grim, he told himself. About the only positive point he could find was that without Federova among them, at least he would see the other Tyrants coming. He wondered how much good that would do him.
Despite Namir's commands, the fire alarms were still in full effect, but retardants had only been triggered inside the ops room. Saxon moved quickly through the galley area, panning the Buzzkill this way and that, going forward.
Deus Ex: Icarus Effect Page 18
