Later that afternoon

Mr. Chen decided to wait for his guests in the parlor of the hotel. It was massive and could hold at least thirty people. Like everything in this hotel, it was old and built to withstand the test of time. Mr. Chen liked to think he shared that distinction. He checked his carefully prepared agenda.

I need the full support of the other members of the Cabal, Chen thought. I cannot do this alone.

“The guests are arriving,” Ezekiel said.

“Excellent, I will receive them in the parlor.”

Moments later, four women entered the parlor. The first woman strode into the parlor with an air of confidence. Her long black hair was braided and fell to one side. She had a very intense look about her. She looked deadly and unforgiving.

The Black Heart has arrived.

“Dahlia, it is good to see you again,” Chen said.

“Chen,” she asked, “how is paradise?”

“It’s magnificent as ever, but I’m glad to be back in the Bromwick.”

“I agree it’s good being back in this historic place, but I always feel I need to watch my back here. Like there’s always something lurking in the shadows,” Dahlia said.

“Yes, but you are always protected within these walls.”

“Hell, having such a high position and nefarious reputation is an invitation to danger.”

“I suppose it is. Care to introduce me to your crew?”

Chen analyzed how the three women were positioned at strategic locations around the room, like they were prepared for almost anything.

“The woman to my right is Blanka. She is my primary lieutenant, and my most capable commander. When my . . . son died, Blanka took the initiative. She has been training with me since she was a toddler. By the time she was a teenager, she had defeated one of the world’s deadliest assassins. She has completed many solo missions with minimal resources or help.”

Chen gave her an appraising look.

I’m impressed. She is both a beauty and a beast in one dangerous package.

“The girl with the long red hair is Vedrana. She has trained with me since she was five. Blanka has taken her as a mentee, and she shows much promise.”

Something stirred in Chen at the sight of Vedrana, an almost insatiable lust he had not experienced in a long time.

She is a dangerous beauty. When cultivated, she will be one of D’s deadliest of assassins.

“The girl at the door with the short-cropped hair is Eva. She grew up with Vedrana and is one of my deadliest pit fighters. She has defeated foes with her bare hands.”

Chen gave Eva a respectful nod.

Any of these women would be a worthy foe. Combined, they are a force to be reckoned with.

Ezekiel gave Chen a nod, then left the room.

“I know I’m the most recent addition to the Cabal, but I’m concerned about the timeline for the plan’s execution,” Dahlia said.

“That is one item on the agenda. We lost years’ worth of progress when Jeremiah went off task. He was foolish to use Dr. Ash’s technology for personal gain. He paid for that mistake with his life. We were all lucky when Nas recommended you to the Cabal,” Chen said.

A moment later, Ezekiel reentered with the Sultan. He had three men with him.

“Marhaba, Nas, it’s so good to see you,” Chen said.

“Shukran, Chen,” the Sultan said.

“Ahlan, Nas, it’s good to see you again,” Dahlia said.

“Hello, D, the pleasure is all mine,” the Sultan said.

The Sultan introduced his lieutenants.

“Nico Gratzano is my new first lieutenant, and his father was Tony Gratzano, my former lieutenant, who passed away. Nico has not only taken over the family business, but he also has the confidence of all families on the Eastern Seaboard,” the Sultan said.

Loyalty is important in our line of work. Having a mobster who controls unions is important for our plan to work, Mr. Chen thought.

“The other two men are my other lieutenants,” the Sultan continued. “I believe you already know Seymour, but the older gentleman with him is General Frank Kurtzen—he commands the preppers in all of North America, including Canada and Mexico.”

“A pleasure to meet you, General,” Chen said.

Kurtzen returned Chen’s greeting with a stony look.

“Is Tage here?” Dahlia asked.

“He will be with us—I believe he just checked in,” Ezekiel said.

Why is the kid nearest the school always late to class?

A moment later, Mr. Tage entered with two men. One was a middle-aged, and the other was much older, perhaps in his late sixties.

“Mr. Tage, so glad you could make it,” Chen said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Greetings, Chen,” Mr. Tage said.

“Please introduce your lieutenants to the group.”

“The young man you see before you is Rick Watson, and before you ask, he is Nigel Watson’s father. The other man is Solomon Friedrich. He’s a former inmate at New York’s metropolitan correctional facility and a nuclear physicist. I suspect his skills will come in handy during our proceedings.”

“Wait—how long has Tage been a member of the Cabal?” Dahlia asked Chen.

“For a long time,” Chen said.

“You mentioned I replaced Jeremiah Mason as a member of the Cabal,” she said.

“Yes, that is correct. From your tone, I sense this might be a problem for you?” Chen asked.

“No problem, it just makes sense now.”

“What does?” Mr. Tage asked.

“That you pretended to not know who Jeremiah was. The assault on his island fortress cost Black Iris dearly.”

No one said anything for a long moment.

“I’m sorry for not bringing you into the fold—I had to keep my cards close to the chest because I only knew you by reputation,” Mr. Tage said.

“Let us put this unpleasantness behind us. We all have sworn a blood oath to our cause,” Chen said.

“Who is the fifth member of the Cabal? You mentioned five principal members before, during my initiation process,” Dahlia asked.

“The fifth member has arrived and will be with us shortly. We will start without her,” Chen said.

Everyone took their place at the long conference table, which was large enough to seat twenty.

“As you all know, I’ve called an in-person meeting of the Cabal to address a matter of grave importance,” Chen began. “The chaos event planned early this year never happened. As a result, it delayed all other planned events.”

“One mistake Jeremiah made was hiring such an unstable hacker for the delivery system. If he had planned half as well as he did for that cyborg, then the plan would have succeeded,” Dahlia said.

“Yes, Jeremiah was a fool for not listening to me,” a woman’s voice said.

Everyone turned to look at the newcomer. It was a woman in her sixties. She was accompanied by a woman in her mid-twenties whose white hair provided little contrast to her white leather outfit.

“Dr. Ash, I’m glad to see you are back on your feet after your . . . ordeal,” Chen said.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Dahlia said.

“My human flesh was dead for a brief moment, but the diligence of Nozomi, my lieutenant, made it possible for my transfer back into this vessel. In hindsight, I should have prepared a cybernetic body, but I’m attached to this form,” Dr. Ash said.

Her eyes seemed to be looking at everything at the same time. The pupils were constantly moving; they reminded Chen of a camera trying to refocus.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let us begin,” Chen said. “In less than a year’s time, Melissa Mason has used her father’s significant wealth to form a philanthropic organization to help those in need. The Mason Foundation’s charter doesn’t mention cyborgs, but that is their primary concern. She has hired some of the best minds in artificial intelligence and cybernetics to assist her cyborg daughter. April Mason has information buried away that we need. I believe Dr. Ash can shed some light on how we can leverage that information to put our plan back on track.”

“Delta-51 was the first cyborg to be integrated with one of the most powerful artificial intelligences ever created,” Dr. Ash said. “The AI’s hunter-seeker functions are suppressed by the Mason Foundation’s imprisonment of the cyborg.”

“Why can’t we storm the castle and take her by force?” Dahlia asked.

“They keep April in a guarded castle in Edinburgh—it’s walls are defensible. Our forces are needed elsewhere,” Chen explained.

“I’m afraid we’ve already tried that approach. Nozomi nearly took out every guard single-handedly,” Dr. Ash said.

The room fell silent as all eyes fell on Dr. Ash.

“How long have you kept this from us?” Mr. Chen demanded.

“It’s been a few days. Ms. Mason was supposed to be en route to New York. She escaped with Delta-51 before Nozomi could complete her mission. With Leviathan’s help, I’ve received some information, but I could not reestablish an uplink to the AI,” Dr. Ash said.

“If she’s in New York—isn’t that good for us? We just need to figure out where she’s staying, then take Delta by force. Seems simple enough,” Mr. Tage said.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

“Perhaps, but she will be on high alert considering Dr. Ash’s earlier attempt. This weekend she will host a benefit gala. Security will be tight. But . . . perhaps some or all of her benefactors will decide they don’t want to invest in her foundation. We can give her more trouble than she can handle. The possibilities are endless,” Mr. Chen said, chuckling.

Mr. Tage smiled. “Leave it to me, Chen. I know just the person for the job.”

“I suggest we get back to the matter at hand. Have we been able to determine why the AI stopped updating?” the Sultan asked.

“I’m not sure, but if we can’t re-establish the link, then I’m afraid we have lost the receiving infrastructure code. I believe the source died with Gregor,” Dr. Ash said.

“I don’t think that is completely accurate,” Dahlia said.

Chen urged Dahlia to continue.

“I now have the loyalty of one of Gregor’s apprentice hackers, Freeman, and he is on my payroll. I believe he lives close to you, Chen,” Dahlia asked.

“Good to know, in case I need my men to pay him a visit,” Chen said.

“No need, he’s coming here.”

“Excellent, I can see you are already surpassing my highest expectations.”

Ezekiel gave each principal member a folder.

“The information you have before you contains the key elements of the plan, but we still need to work out some finer details. I’ll let Mr. Tage explain our secret weapon,” Chen said.

Ezekiel handed Tage a remote control. He fiddled with the buttons until a projector and screen lowered from the ceiling. The blinds also closed, leaving the room in a semi-darkened state. A picture of an island appeared. It looked inhospitable and appeared to have some sort of concrete structure that resembled a prison.

“This island is beautiful for several reasons. You wouldn’t know it from these pictures, but the island contains a valuable energy source powerful enough to run the city of New York for years to come.”

Mr. Tage let the weight of his words sink in.

“This island looks like it is home to a prison. What is this energy source?” Dahlia asked.

“I was just getting to that. Almost forty years ago, an accident at a nuclear plant in Russia caused panic in Europe and set back my work by a dozen years. If it wasn’t for my steel business, I would have been forced to declare bankruptcy because I was in the middle of building my own nuclear fusion plant off the coast of Milford, a city just north of here. I had given up on the idea of supplying energy to the Eastern portion of the United States and put the island up for sale. About a year later, a lucky accident changed everything.”

Mr. Tage poured himself a glass of water and drank slowly.

“What accident?” Dahlia asked in an impatient tone.

“About sixty-five million years ago, a meteorite formed the island where I was building my nuclear plant. In the early 1990s, an enormous meteorite event was visible over the Atlantic Ocean. A small meteorite hit the surface of my island. Scientists wanted to study it, of course, so I charged them for the privilege. When the lead scientist told me he found something important, I listened. He theorized the new meteorite event had caused a chain of events that made my island a viable energy source. I discouraged him not to write about his findings. It’s funny how a nonstop cash flow into a single scientist’s projects will get you. It has taken thirty years and a great deal of money to perfect it, but we have discovered an alternative energy source.”

“Unbelievable,” the Sultan said.

“The best part was developing the transfer mechanism,” Mr. Tage continued.

“Tell us more about the transfer mechanism,” the Sultan asked with renewed enthusiasm.

“It’s a special cylinder that is lined with the material from the meteorite. I’m told it will contain the basis for the energy source. Then my people will replicate that energy source on the island.”

“What island?”

“Jeremiah’s, of course. As soon as Mr. Tage persuades Ms. Mason to sell, then our plans will be set into motion,” Chen said.

“How do you plan on doing that, Tage?” Dahlia asked.

“Good question—it’s one reason I wanted the Cabal to meet in person. We are all here to help Mr. Tage figure that out,” Chen said.

Mr. Tage shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at his folder.

“Playing with your pet rock is not the only reason we need nuclear material. The current and most advanced cyborgs require protein to function. To mass-produce cyborgs for the military, we will need a more sustainable energy source,” Chen said.

“Integrate nuclear material in a cyborg—are you mad?” Solomon said.

“It will work with the proper shielding, and we need only a small amount,” Dr. Ash said.

“We need some uranium-235, or a similar isotope for the new cyborg energy source; we can also use that as a catalyst to make use of Tage’s energy source,” Solomon said.

“How much of the material do we need?”

“About the same amount that is needed to make an atomic bomb: about fifteen pounds of the material.” Solomon scratched his beard stubble. “Or—if we have enough material, we can make polonium.”

“Where are we going to get that?”

“The most logical is a nuclear reactor or an enrichment facility. The most common way to make polonium is from uranium, but we might be able to bombard certain metals with atoms.”

“Solomon, you may be on to something here. I should be able to change the cyborg’s chemistry to be compatible with Polonium easy enough,” Dr. Ash interjected.

“Yes—bombarding the metal bismuth with a certain number of atoms would have the desired effect without acquiring a nuclear weapon. It sure is a hell of a lot safer,” Solomon said as he started scribbling on a nearby whiteboard.

“Wait, I don’t follow—what’s a bismuth?”

“It is a chemical element with the atomic number 83,” Solomon said, as if it were common knowledge.

“So, if I understand correctly, if we steal at least fifteen pounds of uranium, we can activate the power source for the meteor and use the bismuth for the cyborgs?” Mr. Tage asked.

“Something like that.”

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you are saying. Just tell me what I need to steal,” Dahlia said.

“We need a contact at a nuclear facility that will sell some uranium-235 or uranium-238. I’ll give you the amounts of each material we need,” Solomon explained.

“How are we even going to get the material out of the reactor?” the Sultan asked.

“It would be best to raid the stockpiles of plutonium. The security measures would be less stringent than at a nuclear reactor,” Solomon suggested.

“Where do we get access to these stockpiles?”

“I would start doing some simple internet searches. Many countries may even list these sites on their civil engineering websites. If that doesn’t work, then stealing a playbook is another option.”

“I think I have an idea where to look,” Dahlia said.

“Where?”

“According to the search I just made, Russia has more than one hundred metric tons of the stuff. Which is going to be stored in many facilities in the country. All we need to do is find the least secure facility,” Dahlia said.

“Easier said than done, but I know someone who is up for the task of helping us,” Mr. Tage said.

“Who?” Dahlia asked.

“Our former level-five intern, Nigel Watson.”

Rick perked up at the sound of his son’s name.

“I don’t think he is going to help us,” Dahlia said.

“Nonsense, all we need is a little persuasion. Remember how he was looking at Natasha back at Tage Manor? We just need to send in one of your beauties and he will be eating out of their hands.”

“Why don’t we send in a more experienced operative?” Dr. Ash said.

“Who do you suggest?”

“Nozomi is beautiful and knows how to take care of herself in a fight,” Dr. Ash said.

“Do we even know where the boy is?” Dahlia said.

“He’s in New York with Melissa Mason. Nozomi has been tracking Delta-51 for some time. It was Delta who led us to him. It was a happy accident for us all,” Dr. Ash said.

“I volunteer to go with Nozomi. I know how my son thinks and can help her,” Rick said.

“I suggest we vote on it,” Dr. Ash said.

Mr. Chen was following the conversation with some interest. “All principal members of the Cabal will vote on enlisting Nigel Watson’s help in finding an insecure location for the plutonium,” he said. “Who’s in favor?”

Mr. Tage and Dr. Ash raised their hands immediately. Dahlia considered for a moment before raising hers. The Sultan and Mr. Chen were the last ones to raise their hands.

“Well then, it looks like we are going to enlist a young hacker’s help. We will discuss this in more detail at the beginning of the morning session. Now, the hour is late, so I suggest we retire in the main dining hall for an excellent meal prepared by my executive chef,” Mr. Chen said.

The Bromwick guests were treated to a seven-course meal. Mr. Chen was known for hiring the best in culinary excellence. The guests were treated to hors d’oeuvres, several choices of soup and salad, a choice between fish, meat, or fowl, dessert, and a mignardise that everyone seemed to enjoy.

“The petit fours are superb,” Vedrana said.

“I’m glad you approve, my dear,” Chen said, smiling.

Rick stared at Vedrana with some interest. His gaze skirted to her chest and remained there for several moments.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Tage’s lieutenant has designs for our young assassin. You better watch your step, my friend, or D will gut you like a fish, Mr. Chen thought.

“Why aren’t you eating, my dear?” Rick said to Nozomi.

“I don’t eat what you eat,” Nozomi said.

A moment later, Nozomi unzipped the leather on her left side, revealing perfect flesh. Then she tapped her side until a panel popped out of her. She removed a cylinder-looking device, replaced it, then put the used cartridge back into her purse.

A moment later, Nozomi’s expression changed. It was less intense, and more subdued.

“Much better now. Thanks for the reminder, handsome,” Nozomi said, winking at Rick.

Rick’s face turned red; then he refocused his attention on his meal.

“Mr. Tage, once you transport the new energy to the island, how do you plan on igniting the catalyst for it?” Dr. Ash asked.

Mr. Tage thought about it for a moment.

“Yes, we do need a reaction large enough to ignite the energy in the meteorite. We will need some material from a nuclear reactor, I think,” Mr. Tage said.

“It’s not like anyone is going to let you take some uranium from a power plant. Do you have a plan of action?” the Sultan asked.

“Not yet, but I hope to lean on the Black Heart for some tactical assistance.”

After dessert and coffee, Mr. Chen invited the principal members of the Cabal for a nightcap. The lieutenants retired to their respective rooms.

Mr. Chen handed everyone a glass with two fingers of his finest brandy.

“This is the best drink I’ve ever had,” Mr. Tage said.

“I have spared no expense for our meetings. Tomorrow we lay the foundation that will change human history, and while I think it’s important to involve our lieutenants, it’s paramount we meet privately,” Mr. Chen said.

“Does this have something to do with the nuclear material?” Dahlia asked.

Mr. Chen smiled.

“I understand you are an expert in covert operations. I would like your assistance in getting this into a nuclear power plant,” Mr. Chen said as he removed a flash drive from his breast pocket.

“What’s on it?” Dahlia asked.

“I’m told it’s a zero-day virus. It will allow us to control certain systems found in nuclear power plants.”

Dahlia considered this for a moment. “We should determine the second-shift workers with certain social inadequacies. Then, with the help of one of your beautiful assassins, we can implant it,” she said.

“They must persuade a complete stranger to insert a device at the plant,” the Sultan said.

“It’s not complicated. I’ll have Vedrana frequent an establishment our target visits. It could be a bar, coffee shop, or whatever and establish a rapport. When our target makes a move on our girl she will play hard to get, but then, when the time is right, she will show him some seductive photos. The next time they meet, she will get more intimate and then offer the flash drive with the promised photos. He will want to view them as soon as possible, so when he returns from his dinner break, he will be dying to insert the infected drive into a computer.”

Mr. Chen rubbed his chin.

“It will take a long time for this rouse to work. Especially since the target is across state lines,” Mr. Chen said.

“Let me worry about that. Where is the target?” Dahlia asked.

“Eastern Ohio, near the Pennsylvania border.”

“Not a problem, I can perform the reconnaissance. What is the timeline?”

“The sooner the better.”

“I’ll make it a priority then.” Dahlia finished her drink in one gulp. The small table shook as the glass slammed against the polished wood. “Time for bed. See you . . . gentlemen in the morning.”

Mr. Chen watched Dahlia leave.

“You’ve been quiet tonight, Nas. I would like to hear your thoughts,” Mr. Chen said.

“This plan requires a lot of coordination to get it right. There are easier targets,” the Sultan replied.

“There are, but the timing for this attack is good if we want to blame others,” Mr. Chen said.

“I don’t follow—who is going to get blamed?” Mr. Tage said.

“Our good friends, the Red Falcon hacking group.” Mr. Chen smiled like he was the only person privy to a private joke.

Everyone’s phone chirped in unison.

“Oh my! A nuclear power plant in southern Ukraine has exploded,” Mr. Tage said.

“They were hacked,” the Sultan said.

“All is going to plan. In a week’s time they will strike the Ohio Valley Nuclear Reactor,” Mr. Chen said.

“Won’t nuclear facilities around the world be under a heightened security warning?” Dr. Ash asked.

“Not the Ohio Valley facility,” Mr. Chen said, laughing.

“This is not part of the plan, Chen!” the Sultan said.

“It is now. Relax—I have everything under control.”

“This has the potential of harming hundreds—if not thousands—of innocent lives, and we can’t take the risk,” the Sultan said as he headed for the door.

“Nas, please hear me out. It’s not our wish to harm innocents—the Cabal will see to that.”

“I hope so, Chen. If this puts our plan at risk there will be hell to pay, and not just from us,” Mr. Tage said.

“Are you worried the Red Falcon group will figure out who is setting them up? Because it sure seems like a setup to me,” a gruff male voice said.

Mr. Chen turned to look in the direction of the voice and saw General Kurtzen, who was leaning on his bookcase and cleaning his nails with some kind of knife.

“Tell me, how are they going to know? Members of that group have been vocal about nuclear disarmament for years,” Mr. Chen said.

“That may be so, but why would an Eastern European hacking group want to target a nuclear power plant in Ohio?”

“The general brings up an excellent point,” the Sultan said.

Chen furrowed his brow in concentration. “Red Falcon has disrupted other nuclear facilities before.”

General Kurtzen started swiping on his phone. “I think you need to rethink this, Chen. So far I’ve found no evidence that the Red Falcon group has any involvement in any nuclear meltdowns.”

“Chen, I think you need to reconsider this course of action. The damage in the Ukraine is done and there will be a lot of press about it. I’m confident that with the collective brainpower in this room we can figure out another way to gather the required material without inciting disaster,” Mr. Tage said.

“Nonsense, this needs to happen.” Mr. Chen slammed his glass on the table. The ice in the glass rattled.

“Why does this need to happen? I’ve already proved we don’t need material from a reactor,” Solomon said.

Chen inspected the room, thinking, I want to make these people millions, but they only care about collateral damage.

“What are you not telling us? What business of yours stands to gain if the Ohio Valley Nuclear Reactor melts down?” the Sultan demanded.

“It’s simple, he needs jobs for the environmental cleanup companies he just acquired. It’s a good move—ballsy, but profitable,” Nico Gratzano said.

Mr. Chen raised a glass. “To your late father Tony, a shrewd businessman who knew when to exploit a great opportunity when he saw it coming.”

The room fell silent. Nobody seemed to be in the mood to celebrate.