Crown's Vengeance, The (13 page)

“Thank you, Nigel, and let me say that my reign will be most memorable. I expect to hear from the president any minute now.”

“The time is upon us,” Nigel continued. “Two hundred years of hard work and sacrifice will be rewarded in the coming months.”

As ridiculous as it sounded, Drake knew that Nigel Stirling was correct. A plan laid out by their forefathers centuries ago was finally coming to fruition.

Spencer Drake knew the story well. In 1781, King George III had funded an operation conceived by Lord Ramsey Fawkes, the sole purpose of which was to undermine the fledgling United States economy in hopes of destroying any chances the country had at successfully establishing itself on the world stage. Lord Fawkes, along with a select few associates, had used the money provided by King George to establish a financial institution in America. That organization had evolved over the ensuing decades, ultimately becoming what today was known as Aldrich Securities.

The initial members had ensured that each successive generation of leaders had not only been educated regarding both their origins and the stated mission, but also embraced the ideas upon which the group had been founded. While not direct descendants of either Lord Fawkes or his comrades, all three men shared one critical component.

They had all been educated at that most British of schools, Eton. Known as “the chief nurse of England’s statesman,” the independent school brought together some of the most distinguished and recognizable names in the realm. Such an environment was rife with patriotic, impressionable lads, the most intelligent of whom were quickly identified by Nigel Stirling in his role as honorary ambassador.

As the Stirling family was the largest private donor in school history, Nigel, like his father before him, had been appointed an honorary seat on the board for life. This position allowed him nearly unfettered access to Eton’s pupils, a privilege he utilized in his constant quest to identify the best and brightest young men. Once targeted, each boy was subjected to a carefully constructed indoctrination period, all the while never suspecting such a process was underway. During the formative teen years spent at Eton, a promising student might find himself to be the beneficiary of an inordinate amount of extra attention and educational opportunity, all of which served to mold the young minds into a powerful tool for Stirling’s use.

In addition to currying favor with the pupil, Stirling would impart his personal view of American and British relations on the impressionable boy, ultimately convincing him that the United States was not Britain’s closest ally, as most of her Majesty’s citizens believed. Stirling would convince the young man that the United States was actually responsible for Britain’s two-hundred-year decline as a world leader, the main reason England was no longer considered to be a world leader in any true sense of the phrase.

Stirling knew that were it not for the infernal colonists who had fancied themselves to be above their true station in life, England would never have suffered such an unprecedented fall from her perch atop the world order.

Forced to mobilize their armed forces in dealing with the rebellion, Britain had overextended herself, exposing weakness for the first time in centuries. Other power-hungry nations, most notably the damned French, were drawn like sharks to blood and redoubled their efforts to destroy the monarchy. Facing a shortage of capital, an inexorable decline had ensued, culminating with the previously unimaginable period during World War II when Britain had been forced to rely on US intervention to halt the Third Reich’s advance. Stirling, and those before him in this crusade for justice, had never forgotten who was responsible for their fall.

A crucial part of utilizing Eton’s unparalleled resources was that the school’s board of regents, including the Head Master, had no idea of Stirling’s true purpose. If a pupil latched on with Stirling, took to his beliefs, he would be considered for indoctrination into the group’s fold, all within plain view of the unsuspecting Head Master.

By consensus, the group never numbered more than five active members. Any larger, and they risked not only discovery, but also a dilution of direction. Neither could be risked.

Nigel Stirling leaned to the monitor. “I trust you will ensure the government cannot disrupt our plans this time.”

Gerard Webster adjusted his tie as he spoke. “I can promise you that the federal government will take a decidedly hands-off policy in dealing with any future economic crises. The socialist tendencies of my predecessor have been banished to the history books in which they belong. The same history books that will soon contain the account of America’s newest financial disaster.”

Such words issued by the leader of all monetary policy for the United States, warmed Drake’s heart. These men alone knew how close they had come to destroying the American economy over the past two centuries. Each time their efforts had been thwarted.

They would not fail again.

“And I can assure you,” Colin Moore chimed in, “that Her Majesty’s government will forcefully suggest that any proposal by Secretary Webster be followed to the letter.”

“Thank you, Colin. My secretary has just informed me the president will be calling in ten minutes.”

Drake said, “Well done, Gerard, well done. Before you go, allow me to update you as to our progress.”

Ten minutes later, Gerard Webster had to take the president’s call.

“I look forward to our next conversation, gentlemen.”

His well-coiffed visage disappeared from view. Before Drake could speak, a soft knock sounded on his office door.

“What is it?”

Liz poked her head into the office.

“Tom Becker from security just gave me a message. Said you had to see it immediately.”

Drake jumped from his chair and grabbed the slip of paper. Apparently the tap on Parker Chase’s phone had yielded an unexpected result.

“Well, this is interesting. It appears that Parker Chase was just on the phone with an Aldrich employee, one Benjamin Flood.”

The further into the report he read, the more Spencer’s heart began to race. Stirling must have sensed his reaction.

“What does it say, Drake?”

“This can’t be.”

“Dammit, man, what are you blabbering about?”

Drake’s knuckles were white with tension.

“Parker Chase called my employee today. He and Mr. Flood are old schoolmates, and as we know, Chase was at the Revere House.” Both men were well aware of the arrangement their group had with the Revere House management. “During their conversation, Chase told Mr. Flood that he accidentally damaged a wooden artifact and discovered something hidden inside. Nigel, there was something in that drawer on the ground. Chase and his girlfriend found a letter.”

Despite his advanced age, Nigel Stirling jumped from his chair.

“What did it say?”

“I don’t know. Chase never mentioned anything specific, just generalities.”

“We must find out what it said.” Stirling was losing control. “This can’t be, Spencer, we can’t have this. We must recover that letter. Do you realize what could happen if we are discovered?”

Spencer grabbed Stirling by his bony shoulders.

“Get hold of yourself. Listen to the entire report.”

Nigel sank back into his chair, his skin the pallor of a ghost. “Please excuse me.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “Pray continue.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “I understand the shock you must be feeling, but we did suspect that an American agent may have infiltrated the king’s circle during the planning stage, may have learned what Lord Fawkes intended to orchestrate. Unfortunately, this bit of skullduggery has chosen a most inopportune moment to reveal itself. We must not be deterred.”

Nigel nodded in agreement.

“As I was saying,” Spencer continued, “Parker Chase never mentioned exactly what was contained in the letter he located. He did tell Mr. Flood that he located two additional intelligence reports, both prepared by the Midnight Rider, as they call him. Paul Revere.”

The reaction was immediate.

“Revere? I thought he was an ignorant craftsman. Fawkes never mentioned him as a possible spy.”

Since the inception of their mission, stories had been passed down from generation to generation, many coming from the lips of Lord Fawkes himself. One of the most incendiary regarded the possibility that a spy had infiltrated Fawkes’ group, an American confidante who had passed along word of their plans. If this was true, it would explain their repeated failures over the past centuries.

Stirling’s gaze was unfocused as he spoke. “I’ve never heard Revere’s name mentioned as the spy. We knew he was there, of course, but no one ever suspected him.”

“Nonetheless”-Drake had to keep him on track-“it seems he was the culprit, and even now is back to haunt us.”

Stirling came back to the present. “Institute round-the-clock surveillance on Mr. Flood. If he meets with or speaks to this Parker Chase again, we must know.”

“Agreed. His phone is already tapped. I’ll get a surveillance team on him immediately.”

“I would also initiate an attempt to obtain the documents in question,” Nigel suggested. “Regardless of what is contained in these reports, if we can suppress their distribution, the issue will be moot. No one will believe mere hearsay from a girl’s mouth, even if she is an Ivy League professor. Do you have any men within Aldrich who are capable?”

The thought of putting his white collar espionage team into action warmed Drake’s heart. The securities business had grown infinitely more cutthroat over the past decade, an inevitable evolution considering the immense profits at stake. Unwilling to risk falling behind in the revenue race, Drake had quietly begun employing a select team of former criminals adept at obtaining information through illegitimate channels.

These men weren’t typical bank robbers. Each of them was highly educated, ruthlessly efficient and morally bankrupt. For the right price, they could obtain any type of information Drake required, either through hacking a rival firm’s computer network, or through the more traditional method of breaking and entering. Several times over the past few years an immense, immediate profit by Aldrich Securities could be directly attributed to the work of their specialized skills.

“I have just the team.”

“Excellent. I look forward to reviewing Mr. Revere’s documents.” With surprising grace, Nigel Stirling hopped from his chair and headed to the wet bar. “Moving on. I’ve arranged a call with Sheik bin Khan to discuss the next phase of our operation. Now that a Treasury secretary who is more suitable to our intentions is in the White House, bin Khan’s cooperation is crucial. Thank goodness he hates America, because even we don’t have enough money to bribe a sheik.”

Ice cubes clinked on crystal as Stirling swirled his replenished drink in one hand. “He is due to call in thirty minutes. Is that sufficient time to initiate the surveillance and reclamation operations?”

“More than enough.” Spencer picked up the phone and spoke softly for several minutes, consulting the biographical pages of Parker Chase and Erika Carr as he spoke. “It’s done.” The phone clicked down with finality. “If Ms. Carr does in fact have intelligence reports written by Paul Revere, we will have them shortly.”

Stirling saluted him with an upraised glass. “I am most interested in their contents. Also, I hope that this Mr. Flood is not a vital member of your team?”

“No one who can’t be replaced.”

“Glad to hear it. If he is more involved than we suspect, Mr. Flood and his collegiate associates may soon meet with an untimely end.”

Apparently the old codger wasn’t getting soft on him after all.

Chapter 22

At nine o’clock the next morning, millions of televisions tuned in to hear the president’s announcement regarding the untimely death of Treasury Secretary Gordon Daniels. Little was known other than that Daniels had collapsed while playing golf and paramedics had been unable to revive him. A nation waited for answers, citizens concerned for the future and wary of who would lead them there.

One man who was not worried, however, was Spencer Drake. He and his associates had received a message from Gerard Webster confirming what they had hoped. The president was going to appoint Webster as secretary of the Treasury. The news had come immediately following their call with Sheik bin Khan, who had agreed to proceed with the plan.

It was all coming together. When Drake and Stirling had presented their plan to Gerard Webster, the lynchpin to the entire operation had been securing the cooperation of Sheik bin Khan. At first, they had been stumped. How do you persuade a man who has everything? Only after Drake’s research team had done some digging into bin Khan’s background had they uncovered the truth about his past, about how his parent’s deaths were indirectly tied to the United States’ support of Israel. Once they discovered that bin Khan did indeed blame America, actually harbored a great hatred for the Western superpower, their course had been set. To obtain his aid, Drake had given him an opportunity that money couldn’t buy.

Revenge.

A chance to avenge his parents’ death, to strike a blow to the great American machine that, bin Khan believed, had run rampant over his countrymen and destroyed their way of life. Drake personally thought the man was crazy, but he wasn’t going to argue.

The plan was beautiful in its simplicity. As chairman of the UAE, bin Khan controlled one hundred billion barrels of proven oil reserves. All he had to do was to make sure the oil kept flowing at a measured pace and that production didn’t increase. As long as he ensured that the amount of oil produced remained constant over the next several months, America would experience a financial crisis the likes of which had not been seen in generations. The sheik had assured Drake that his influence extended well beyond the borders of the UAE. If he wished the supply to remain at certain levels, it would.

Drake’s thoughts were interrupted as the president appeared on his television.

“Ladies and gentleman, President Harrison Knox.”