Joshua spun his big leather chair around to face the window. Maybe he could send Ryan in his place. Problem was Ryan didn’t know Chesterfield, and, more importantly, Chesterfield didn’t know Ryan. That’s what Joshua got for being paranoid and keeping his biggest client to himself. Well, what the hell. Wasn’t Joshua the boss? He’d talk to Ryan after lunch, tell him he was coming down with the flu—or something like that. He strummed his fingers on both arms of his chair and stared out at the mountains. “I sure as shit don’t want to see Chesterfield. No fucking way.”
CHAPTER 22
Ninety miles away, in Santa Barbara County, Hess sat proud as a preening eagle at the big table. His Eminence, twenty-five feet away at the other end, was dressed in a luxurious dark velvet robe and sat in a seat more throne than dining chair. The regular Monday lunch at high noon, a tradition for years, was the only time he and His Eminence ate alone together. It was a time for updates, strategy, and planning.
Hess always marveled at His Eminence’s presence—his regal posture, perfectly styled graying hair, stern demeanor, dark piercing gaze, and even his deep, rich tan. This man can save America from itself, Hess thought. With my help, of course.
Just then, His Eminence’s dark eyes grew darker. He frowned. “What in God’s name are you smiling about? Stop it, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’ve got good news.”
“All right, but stop the goddamn smiling.”
“As you know, our regular suppliers have been slow to provide candidates worthy of our training and worldwide marketing. So, Friday, we took matters into our own hands. We collected five fine specimens, three girls and two boys. One of the boys has golden hair and seems special, a potential candidate for Watchmen training.”
“How many in training now?” His Eminence scowled at the servant who placed a plate before him.
“We have five at camp, all between 17 and 19,” said Hess. “This boy would complete our second squad. Then, they could take their places next to One through Six.”
“Interesting.” His Eminence waved off the food with a look of disgust and glared down the table at Hess. “Why haven’t our teams come back with fresh venison lately? You know I love it. I thought you trained Three and Four as a hunting team, and Five and Six as another? It’s been weeks.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hess. “The drought conditions this past winter reduced the number of deer. We keep trying. One team or the other goes out every Sunday.”
“Send them both out until they get something.”
“Will do.”
“About the new lad, I’ve been waiting for this type of news. Let me spend some time with him this afternoon. If he’s worthy, put together an immediate ceremony. That way, we can relocate him to the camp, right away, for training.”
“Will do,” said Hess.
Later that afternoon, Hess and One sat alone in the huge kitchen near the intercom waiting for His Eminence to ask for the boy. One turned and looked directly at Hess. “Sir, do you know anything about His Eminence’s past?”
“Of course. I always do my homework.”
“I was wondering if you could share some of it with me. For my homework, so to speak.”
Hess hesitated but then told himself that he trusted One. He was the best of the whole lot. Eager to learn, and second in charge of security. It made sense for him to know. “All right, but this is strictly confidential. Your ears only. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Hess leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. “His parents were rich. Idle rich. Idle, except when they abused him.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “Some people are not fit to be parents. For all the money they had, His Eminence’s parents treated their children like, well, animals. I suppose the emotional abuse started early, but the physical abuse really began when he was ten. Same thing with his older brother, James, who took his life at 15. His Eminence, on the other hand, learned to survive. The abuse made him more resilient. He learned from it. Drew inspiration from it. He came to understand that life is all about natural selection: zebras and lions, fish and bigger fish, even humans. It’s a food chain where those at the top thrive and those below get eaten. Those who exploit and those who are exploited. All life is divided into one of those two groups. And remember, we—” Hess motioned between himself and One “—are not zebras. We are lions.”
“Understood.”
“Thank Goodness, His Eminence learned to be a lion early. He practiced on small prey first. Hamsters and the like. His parents, content with their own perversions, kept thinking the hamsters were running away. Never looked for the pieces buried or hidden all over the property. Later, when he realized his parents were burning through their money and, if nothing was done, little would be left for him, he knew he had to act. When they were found, police ruled it a double suicide.”
One’s face clouded, but Hess continued, “His Eminence ended up with the real estate, jewelry, and enough cash to finish graduate school. The rest he built on his own. Just like with those hamsters, he thrived by manipulating, exploiting, or eliminating those in his way. A win-win for everyone. Because, you see, everyone has a role to play. The strong survive.” He shrugged. “The weak don’t. Just like on the savannah where lions rule.
One’s brow furrowed. “So, why did His Eminence form the Raven Society? Where does it fit in?”
Hess stared at One. “His Eminence and I formed the Raven Society. A cabal destined to usher America toward a greater future, a future based on strength. At first, to structure it, I studied Nazi occult groups. You’ve heard of the Schutzstaffel or protection squads, commonly known as SS, right?”
“Of course.”
“Heinrich Himmler, SS Reichsfuhrer, was obsessed with secret societies, occults, and rituals, and he modeled the SS on the Teutonic Knights.”
“The Teutonic Knights?” One’s eyes grew wide. He scooted to the edge of his chair.
“A secret society in Germany. Turned itself into a military order to fight the crusades in the 11th century. They carried their insignia of the Black Cross into combat for more than two centuries. Now think, One. What is a swastika—other than a black cross rotated 45 degrees with each end twisted further right?”
“I never thought of that.”
“And there are more parallels, but then I realized the Nazi death camps broke up families. That’s never OK, except for very good reasons. So, His Eminence and I eased away from the Nazi heritage. Neo-Nazis remained our friends, but not our soulmates. That didn’t change the fact that we needed a secret society. It was key to creating a better America through much-needed social justice reform.
“Why?”
“Right now, One, the justice system is a game. A crapshoot. That needs to be changed from within. The Raven Society’s goals are to increase efficiency and add certainty and predictability to the system.”
“But how do you do that?”
“We start with judges. Ensure we get the decisions we want, decisions that reflect the need to build a society in which the strong prevail and the weak are, well, weeded out. In time, we’ll expand our influence, take in lawyers and law student groups across the country. Within five or ten years the Raven Society will be self-perpetuating. We’ll have created a behind-the-scenes network with the ability to shift the law and judicial decisions to where they should be. No more games, just results.”
One was quiet for a moment. “I see, I think. But why chose the raven as a symbol?”
Hess smiled. “Ravens are incredibly smart, among the smartest of all birds. They’re powerful, territorial, and are associated with mystery and death. They tower over their lesser brethren—like the crows and magpies of the world. Yes, they’re basically loners—one or two at most—but when banded together in larger numbers, they inspire awe and fear. That’s why a group of ravens is called a conspiracy. On top of all that, they’re manipulative, opportunistic, and flexible. They’re not birds of prey who just hunt meat, but rather they can survive on seeds, grain, and berries when fresh or decaying flesh is unavailable.”
