Chapter 17

FRIDAY 9:30 A. M.

New York / Washington DC / Baltimore MD

Andrew Sturdvent, Sanderson Miles and Homer Liggett only had one thing in common. They ran the United States of America. Not that they had been elected by any polity, or approved by any constituency, but by using the webs of power their families had developed over the years, they could reach out and touch anyone, anywhere, anytime.

At first, the reports from the Illinois area had been interesting, then intriguing, but lately they had been moving steadily toward disturbing. Disturbing was bad, very bad. Something was going to have to be done about this quite soon. After all, they were busy people. There were elections to fix, trouble spots to stir up, fears to foment and legislation to subvert with bureaucratic hogwash. One world government was an achievable goal and these families had dedicated themselves to reaching it. It was a never ending, thankless job, but someone had to do it. The last set of reports from Chicago and environs, had pictured the well crafted and maintained 'machine', their families had spent generations building, being brought to ruin. This could not go unanswered and the ripples of power sped down the webs, with only one imperative. Find the people responsible for these desecrations, and destroy them.

FRIDAY 11:30 A. M.

The News Stand, Chicago, IL

The Early Afternoon Edition of The Sun Times had banner headlines, and well they should too.

The 'machine' was coming to a grinding halt and recall election fever had gripped the City and State. So far, there were a total of thirty posts up for recall with new elections slated for eight weeks from now.

Mike just had to chuckle after reading all this, and thought, 'Wonder where they will find all the bodies to fill the posts. Looks like we might get lucky and have a real crop of 'Civil Servants' instead of megalomaniacs. Now wouldn't that be a change?'

The 'poison bait' was now working its way through the eighth and ninth tier of the political structure and the best part was watching the 'Old Guard' trying to stop the flood.

The horns of 'Shame', as the 'boils' has been nicknamed - thanks to a diligent 'whisper campaign' - were starting to show up in the business sectors. What was the most hilarious though, was watching Bank CEO's, on down to Jr. VP's, wearing 'hats' indoors. It was looking like business would be above board and free of graft for the first time in living memory.

As Mike was still musing over these changes, a call came from Lannee, 'Lord Coordinator, as you know, the State and Federal agencies have withdrawn most of their personnel, but I am getting reports from my field people of a new crop of agents. These seem to be targeted at one thing, tracking down the instigating power behind the recent changes.'

'Lady Lannee, again for your diligence, I thank you. Could you please show me one of the new crop?'

A picture instantly grew in Mike's mind of a nondescript man. However, the flavor this 'nonentity' carried, was anything but innocuous. 'Hum, interesting. It's like watching a scorpion try to pass itself off as a Ladybug.' Thought Mike, then sending a deep scan, he began pulling this agent's contacts from his mind. These began leading to a very long trail of obfuscation that was intriguing in it's own right, but finally reached the top of the food chain. At this point, Mike thought, 'Well, well, hello gents. So you're the 'men behind the curtain'.' After making sure of his data, Mike called a meet at Lake's Edge for the entire crew.

FRIDAY 5:30 P. M.
Lake's Edge Hold, Elfrealm Lake's Edge

Mike had spent the entire afternoon, prior to the meeting, visiting the former Demonic Realm known as Hell. For a place that had been cleansed of all life forms, it was surprisingly intact. As Mike had sent his scans ranging, he had found nothing living, but a perfectly breathable atmosphere in place and even light sources.

'This will do just fine.' He thought. He then created five 'mini-portals', marking each with the category of item it would transmit: FOOD, WATER, MEDICAL, CLOTHING / TOOLS. 'This should prove to be an interesting experiment. Unlimited resources and unlimited space, with limited access points. Let's see how long it takes our 'Utopian' crowd to devolve into feudalism.' Mike thought. Then a wicked idea crossed his mind and, smiling at the thought, he created four more sets of 'mini-ports'. 'I can already hear the announcer, "Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing, The Council of Five." That should keep our boys and girls busy. While at the same time it distracted them from attempting escape, after all, there was now 'advantage' to vie over. For this crowd, that was like putting out nectar for bees.' The chuckle that segued into place following these thoughts, had very little humor attached to it.

When Mike had been 'making sure' of his data, he had scanned each and every one of the families bloodlines, in what had proved to be an almost vain hope, of finding something, anything, salvageable. What had emerged was a picture of an almost 'viral' evil. It was as if these Families had been infected and were passing on some retrograde gene of vileness from one generation to the next. The only hope in fact, was from the prepubescent segment of all three family lines plus three of the mid-teen crowd. There really was only one answer, as much as his soul cringed at it. That was the main reason he had jumped for joy at finding the former Demonic Realm intact. Thank God Above, he would not have to destroy them. They could be isolated and do no more harm. His silent supplication wafted toward the heavens, 'Please Lord, let this be the last time.'

As the rest of the 'Crew' arrived, Mike thought, 'Good people, every one of them. Not that they weren't subject to the foibles of the 'human condition' just like everyone else, but that core value of basic 'right and wrong' would see them through.'

The assembled included: Ella, Stan, Rick, Alice, Lisa and himself. As each arrived Mike greeted them by name and ushered them into the 'Solarium'. By prior arrangement with Elnore this would be a strictly human encounter. Bolos and carafes of Marga's love were set out along the table. After the first sips and bites, Mike tapped his cup with a fingernail for attention, saying, "Folks, thank you all for making the time to be here. With any luck, this will be the last load of human garbage we need to personally take out to the curb." Mike then broadcast all the data they had gathered on the 'Curtain Boys'. The reactions to this 'info-dump' ranged from: Ice Cold Flint-like stares, as Stan and Rick attempted to suppress their rage, to open weeping from the female contingent. Even Lisa, the FBI 'hardball', had tears tracking down her cheeks, as she muttered, "Those miserable slime suckers."

Mike let the moment conclude and then said, "The worst part of this for us, is not knowing what their parents and Grandparents have done before them. God alone knows how much misery these people have caused, nine / eleven seems to just be the 'tip' of the Mountain," then an Arctic Iceberg looked out through Mikes eyes, "but it ends, here, today." The agreement in the room was a palpable living thing, as three elderly distinguished gentlemen were 'ripped' from wherever they were and found themselves facing a council of their peers, with the tracks of shed tears still fresh on their faces and the coldest set of eyes the three had ever seen outside of a Wolf pen.

Then the younger man rose, and spoke, "Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the prime suspects in this trial. We have before us: Andrew Sturdvent, Sanderson Miles and Homer Liggett. As they are the current heads of their respective clans, it falls to them to defend their Families actions leading up to this event." Then looking at the 'three', he said, "Gentlemen, your families stand accused of multiple crimes against humanity, the least of which was September eleven. You now have the floor for your defense presentation."