AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We discussed that, but flight plans have to be registered, even private planes, and we flew directly from Charleston to the Isle of Man. It would not have been hard to guess that flight—private plane, booked last minute—was us. It was a calculated risk.” Hugo didn’t bother to point out it was a risk that hadn’t paid off. Nikolas had been the one to argue that the direct route, and speed, was better than hiding their itinerary by making multiple stops. He’d paid for that decision with his life.
“Clues,” Cecilia interjected. “What else did you find out from Alicia?”
“When she was with Sylvia, she gave three names. Said he, the mastermind, was Leon and Francisco and Bhagat.”
Scholars that they all were, everyone bent over their various notebooks, scribbling down what he’d said.
“Alicia said the motive was a philosophical opposition to the Masters’ Admiralty. She repeatedly used the term ‘unlevel playing field.’”
More note-taking.
“When Lancelot questioned her, she called the man Varangian, using it as a name, not as a title.”
“Varangian?” Karl’s head came up, and he turned, probably reaching for his own computer.
“You know that name?” James asked Karl. “Arthur and Sophia checked, and it’s not the first, middle, last, or maiden name of any members. It has to be a nickname, but that will take more time to check since the territories don’t have that kind of information recorded for all members.”
Karl turned back, looking a tad sheepish. “I thought it was a Star Trek reference. It sounds like it could be, but it’s not.”
Josephine was abnormally quiet and still, staring down at her notes. Hugo usually sat next to her at the meetings and was used to her antics. She was one of those people whose mind moved so fast that she couldn’t hold her body still.
“Josephine?” James asked, apparently as concerned as Hugo.
“Varangian,” she muttered. Her chair scraped as she jumped up, disappearing down the central aisle of the long room.
“Josephine is working on that,” James declared. “What about the other names? Are they ringing any bells?”
“I think I know,” Hugo said. “I’ve been considering the matter, but didn’t want to color anyone else’s deductions.”
“They’re common enough names,” Cecilia pointed out. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Just tell us,” James demanded.
“Anarchists,” Hugo said. “Leon Czolgosz was an American anarchist. He assassinated one of the U.S. presidents—McKinley. He was influenced by Emma Goldman and claimed the president had committed war crimes.”
“An anarchist and assassin,” James said grimly.
“Francisco could be a reference to either Francisco Ferrer, a Spanish anarchist and socialist. He was also the founder of the Modern School, which developed in truth in America. Or it could also be that she meant Francesco Saverio Merlino, an Italian anarchist, who had a theory of libertarian socialism.
“Bhagat is most likely Bhagat Singh, an Indian revolutionary and socialist. Put together, it tells me that most likely Alicia herself came up with these descriptors.”
“Why do you say that?” Cecilia asked.
“Of the three names she gave, one is an American and the other is well-known in the United States because of the Modern School.”
James nodded slowly. “You think that these names are descriptions she came up with for the mastermind, not how he describes himself.”
“Or those are examples he gave her, to validate his cause,” Hugo amended.
“He’s recruiting some of his followers with promises of social revolution.”
“It’s a lie.” Karl’s words were hard. “He isn’t a revolutionary. Isn’t some philosophical anarchist. He recruits serial killers, helps them kidnap and torture people for fun.”
“The Bellator Dei claimed credit for the bombing in Rome,” Cecilia said. “We should assume that there will be something left at the Isle of Man also bearing their signature.”
“Why?” Nyx asked. “We have asked ourselves why the mastermind is attacking us. Instead of one motive, we have three. Three motives, three different strategies.”
They were all quiet, waiting for Nyx to go on. Every time she spoke, the bandage shifted, making it hard to ignore the long rectangle of gauze taped to her face.
