Chapter 21 - The Plan

The greasy smile of Reverend Theodore Walker seemed to stain the photograph, and Steve could almost feel the man’s slimy presence in the room. Heather’s revulsion was a tangible force, but it was being steadily overpowered by another feeling rising within Steve: a cold, calculating focus. He studied the picture carefully, his mind beginning to churn, to compartmentalize. A plan was forming in his head, and a slow, predatory smile crept across his lips.

He would need to plan carefully. It would take allies, specific ones with very particular skills. Secrecy would be paramount.

He turned to Heather, his smile widening. “What if I told you we could show the whole clan the catastrophic consequence of the interventionist plan without actually exposing a single one of us to the outside world?” he began, his voice low and steady. He laid out his idea, a complex web of psychological manipulation and information warfare designed to turn the interventionists’ greatest weapon—the threat of exposure—back onto themselves. Heather looked increasingly impressed.

By the time he finished explaining, Heather was utterly still, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance, her mind racing through the implications. Steve waited, the silence in the study thick enough to taste.

After a few minutes, she slowly nodded, a glimmer of fierce approval in her eyes. “It’s brutal. It’s vicious. It’s genius. The council will have to remain in the dark, of course. They’d never approve. But I concur. You think we can pull it off before the next election?” She smiled back at her grandson, a mirror of his own cunning expression.

Steve nodded, his confidence solidifying. “I believe we can have undeniable results within four years. But we’ll have to monitor the fallout with extreme care. The proof of the ‘consequence’ has to be irrefutable, or the entire thing backfires spectacularly.”

Heather leaned forward, all business. “Okay. What do you need?”

Steve leaned back on the couch, steepling his fingers. “We need to build a team. A small, tight circle. First, a social media expert—not some vapid influencer, but an academic who studies its influence, its patterns, how information metastasizes online. Second, someone from law enforcement, someone who specializes in tracking credible threats over the internet. FBI or CIA would be ideal. A clan journalist to help craft and, when the time is right, disseminate our narrative. I think Rachel would be a perfect addition for her historical context. These would be the only people who know the entire truth, so they must be clan, and they must be staunchly anti-interventionist.”

Heather was scribbling names and titles on a notepad, her pen moving furiously. “What else?” she asked without looking up.

Steve cocked his head. “Money. And lots of it. If this is to succeed, it has to be a global operation. The initial investment will be substantial.”

His grandmother didn’t even blink. “I’ll transfer five million into a secure account to start. Will that suffice?”

The casual mention of such a sum momentarily stole Steve’s breath. “That ... that will more than suffice,” he managed, the reality of the resources at his disposal finally hitting him. This was no longer a family secret; it was a geopolitical game, and he was suddenly a major player.

“Good,” Heather said, setting her pen down with a definitive click. “I’ll make the initial contacts. Discreetly. In the meantime, you have a family orgy to attend tomorrow. Your mother has been blowing up my phone.”

The shift from global conspiracy to family fun was jarring, but Steve understood the necessity. His legitimacy was tied to his place within the family unit. He followed Heather out of the study and to the front door. She made sure all of his fillings in his mouth were still in place before letting him leave.

The car’s engine hummed steadily as Steve drove, the roads eerily empty at this hour. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his mind a whirlwind of unease and determination. The enormity of what he was attempting hit him like a sledgehammer—the biggest con in the history of humanity, all to counter a potential worldwide massacre. His stomach churned violently, and he pulled the car over to the side of the road just in time to throw up.