Terror Mage: Betrayal of Trust

By Lawrence Verrett

What would you do for the love of a friend?
What would you do for greed and power?For centuries, a small but elite group of people have been using magical assassins to influence world events for their own gain.
Now that their hired killers are dead, they hatch a bold plan to frame a university professor for murder and convince her friends, who are also professors, to save her.
Their plan works, but they soon discover that you had better be careful of your creation, for sometimes you simply can't control what you create. Terror Mage: Betrayal of Trust answers those very questions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645366072

Lawrence Verrett

Lawrence Verrett has been an avid reader since childhood. So naturally, he became a writer. For him, writing has always been a passion and a hobby. He was raised in Beaumont, Texas, and has been living and working in Houston, Texas, for the past 12 years.

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About The Author

Lawrence Verrett has been an avid reader since childhood. So naturally, he became a writer. For him, writing has always been a passion and a hobby. He was raised in Beaumont, Texas, and has been living and working in Houston, Texas, for the past 12 years.

Dedication

To all of my English teachers and my mother; they all gave me a love of reading. To Missy, who was there when I wrote it, and Talaurie, who was there to see it published. To my oldest friend David; we shared many a good book together. And lastly to the ladies at Austin Macauley who always took the time to answer my questions and to hold my hand throughout all of this. Thanks

Copyright Information ©

Lawrence Verrett (2020)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Verrett, Lawrence

Terror Mage

ISBN 9781645361886 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781645361879 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645366072 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020902980

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge all of my former co-workers and friends who appear as characters in this novel. Too many to list, but friends, one and all.

Prologue

Like all large metropolitan cites of the modern world, London is divided into separate and not always equal parts. The residential sections, as necessary, take up the largest space, followed by the shopping districts, then other areas come in various sizes and locations, such as industrial, warehousing, docks, financial, and legal. All of these parts make up any city in today’s world. Granted not all cities have in them the large numbers that are found in the largest of the world’s megacities, but in any small town, you find these components, for they are the heart of each city no matter the size. It was in one of these sections that beat officer, Nigel Holmes, found himself walking the midnight shift. London, unlike most cities in the world, relies on the beat cop to patrol the city. The solitary officer of the law, walking the streets, getting to know who belongs and who does not, is one of the London Metropolitan Police Department’s easiest and most effective way of keeping a close watch on crime. Police Commissioner, Ian Blair, had always been in favor of what he called neighborhood policing. This is a type of police work in which the officers walk around their assigned area and get to know the people and get to know who belongs there and who does not. It was the not-belonging part that caught the eye of Patrolmen Holmes, who, at this point, had been on the Met for the past two years, as he walked his beat in the northern portion of middle to upper-class section of London. As was his norm, Patrolmen Homes kept as close to the walls and shadows as he could do, in hopes of concealing his presence to any would-be thieves. Walking quietly as he was trained in the service, he would scan the ground ahead of him with a much-practiced eye and trying to not let his mind wander too far from the task at hand.

Hello, what’s all this? he spoke quietly to himself, as he spied a hidden figure behind one of the trees that lined the street. He moved silently, a whisper amongst the trees and wind. Slowly, inch by inch, he crept onward, until he was able to get a better view of his target. He cautiously moved his hand to his radio and turned down the speaker, he then pushed the emergency button in a specific order that sent an electronic signal out to all radio cars in the area and to local dispatch, requesting backup, but at a blacked-out pace.

Two blocks off, the radio car, L-21, pulled to a quiet stop alongside three of its counterparts, the occupants, all members of the Met, quickly exited their vehicles rapidly, and as silently as they could, made their way toward Officer Homes. At the same time, a black, nondescript sedan, with two people inside, a man and a woman, pulled even closer to the assembled group. This car, however, made no sound during its approach, and was very hard to see even in the light of the street lamps.

Who here is Patrolmen Homes? asked the woman without preamble.

I am, and keep your bloody voice down. We are not trying to let them hear us. By the way, who the bloody hell are you?

The man took a warrant card from his pocket and flashed it to Homes. Investigator Brighten, and this is Investigator Manuel, both of First Watch. So, right now, they cannot hear us, now can they?

No. I suppose not. What is First Watch doing here on a home-robbery case?

This may not be what it seems. We have been getting word of a group of arcanists who were going to break-in the P.M.’s house, so we set up a small group to be ready in case that happened. We were simply at the local stationhouse when we heard this call and decided to see what we can do. Who knows, it may be our group out for a little practice?

Truly, you think so?

Maybe. The only way to know is to take a watch and see attitude here. Now, any of you lot have any field glasses with you?

Field glasses? snorted one of the officers. I thought you lot were supermen.

Very funny, now, about the glasses. A piece of cold plastic was pressed into his hand from behind. Brighten turned and looked into the cold, hard eyes of a sergeant from the Special Branch.

Right then, what’s the story here. We got a report of a home robbery in progress by parties known.

But why a member of the Flying Squad?

Why an investigator from First Watch? The two sized each other up for a moment, until they were interrupted by Homes.

Look, we can have this pissing contest later, you two. Our boys are on the move, noted Holmes.

Three pairs of eyes scanned the street and noticed the lookout had moved.

Bugger, Brighten, can you stop arguing with the locals, and let’s go. Manuel turned and gave them both an icy stare, Look, you all need to stay back. These people are arcanists and they are not to be messed with.

You think… asked Brighten, he let the rest of the question go unasked.

Positive. I saw her face. Give away that one.

Damn. Okay, make the call. He turned to face the sergeant, This is now a First Watch operation. Pull all local units back and maintain solid cover. Under the First Watch Articles, I hereby authorize the use of deadly force without warning. If they try to get by you, shoot them. No quarter. They will not give you a chance to even think about talking to or challenging them. These people have killed before and will kill again.

Without further needed instructions, the sergeant turned and ran off, presumably to gather the rest of the Tactical Unit. Manuel then turned and addressed the remainder of the assembled group, "Okay, listen up, you lot, here is the drill. There are more members from our group on the way here. We will try to contain them until the others arrive. If you do have arms, use them to protect yourselves only, this lot will not show nor ask for mercy. No matter what happens to us, do not challenge them, they will only kill you if you do." Without any other words, the two First Watch agents moved at a run down the road. The officers all noted that they never made a sound when they ran, and that it was very hard for them to even make-out the exact shape, even though they knew exactly where they were.

Well, you heard the lady, let’s get moving here. Homes pulled out his radio that he tucked away, Attention, all units responding to the robbery call, this is Patrolmen Homes, on-scene commander for now. Set up a parameter surrounding the entire block, if you can get people out of their houses, then do it, but for God’s sake, do it quietly please. We have government agents closing in and more are on the way. This is a Code-13 call. Repeating, this is a Code-13 call. He used the Met’s code number that signified that arcanists were the suspects, which immediately sent a call out for the Met’s own arcanists, and caused the hairs on the back of all involved to stand on ends.

The pair of agents used arcane to make their movements, just as they knew their opponents would be doing. Using their own skills that were honed in countless hours of practice and practical use, they were able to rapidly move down the street, using the trees and the cars parked along it to help in masking their approach. Hugging the shadows as best as they could, the pair moved ever forward toward their targets, trying desperately to not be seen, not be detected before they could strike. Nearing a street that led into a cul-de-sac, the two agents stopped and quietly conferred on their next move. Though both agreed it would be wiser to wait until backup arrived, they also agreed that a chance such as this may not happen again, and it was worth the risk. Using hand signals only and arcane to mask their approach, the two agents duck-walked their way between the rows of cars parked in the street. As they turned down the cul-de-sac, they could see, in the short distance of one block, two of their adversaries.

Without warning, the car in front of them erupted in a ball of flame. Rolling to the left side, Agent Manuel reacted with instinct honed by countless hours of drills and training, as she quickly but silently thanked her trainers who just now saved her life. Without pausing, she spotted the pair down the road and sent a fireball, the size of a quarter, flying in their direction. Unlike the assassins, the agents would not use such large displays of arcane, knowing that there are innocent people in the area who needed to be protected. With a quick grin of satisfaction, she saw that her strike found its mark, as one of the group went down, but clearly not out, by their fast rise to their feet. Manuel looked over to her right and saw that Brighten had taken cover behind one of the few large trees and was using his ability as a mind mage to locate and hopefully confuse any or the entire group allied against them.

"There is one hidden behind that mid-sized blue van about six rows down."

Brighten sent the thought into the head of Manuel who, by now, was used to such thoughts, though admittedly, it did take time to do so. Without preamble, a baseball-sized ball of fire rocketed toward the target, hitting it squarely in the front cab, causing the van to burst into flames. With the hit, the figure pointed out by Brighten and flushed out by the flames, tried to rise up and run, but was quickly felled by a strike from Brighten. He then used his skills and put the target into a deep unconsciousness.

Ahhh! yelled Brighten, as he was slammed against a tree, he never saw the manhole cover that was sent flying toward him. At the very last moment, the disk that was aimed at his head, he was still not quick enough, and was hit in the forehead, and the top of his head exploded in a massive spray of blood and gore.

Bloody bastards! yelled Manuel, when she saw Brighten hit. Summoning up her will, she continued the fight by sending a fireball into the base of a tree, and caused it to explode. Once off fire, she then used telekinesis to topple the tree, and sent its branches flying, like arrows, in the direction of her enemies. She took off, running toward the fight, and was hit by multiple blasts of super-dense air that felt like a bullet when it hit her. The impact sent her sprawling to the ground like a bloody heap.

Four figures approached her and to her satisfaction, one of them was visibly limping.

Well, now, lass, looks like you have had a bad day, one of the figures leaned down and addressed her with no hint of emotion on his face. Well then, no need to prolong things. With that, Manuel felt nothing, as blackness overtook her. The figure looked up and the short-lived look of surprise was all the warning that his companions had, as a hail of bullets fired by the Tactical Squad tore into them and turned them all into bloody rags of human flesh.

Running up to the bodies with weapons drawn, the officers were quick to let procedure take over and rapidly searched the bodies for any weapons. Finding none, they stationed themselves to act as backup to First Watch. After the action was over, they then began the necessary task of securing the bodies from the curious and media, and made the needed radio reports, calling forth the medical examiner. Part of the after-action duties included cordoning off the area from anyone who would contaminate the crime scene. Once that was accomplished, the officers canvassed the area, looking for any evidence that might prove important to the case. In addition, two were dispatched to secure the car that the two agents arrived in.

Hold on, what’s this? one of the two officers, who were waiting by the cars, spotted a lone figure staggering down a side alley. You there, stop! Police! Without thought, he gave chase, a move that he would regret. The figure turned at the shout and with the slightest thought, sent a pin jet of air into the chest of the officer, killing him instantly.

Officer down! was the shout that rang out in the air, as the second officer saw his brother officer go down. He pulled his weapon out to defend himself, but it was too late, as he too, was killed by the same figure, who then turned and ran.

The ‘officer down’ call is the most feared and dreaded call by any member of law enforcement worldwide, so at the sound of the call, several of the police in the area ran to give what help they could. However, they arrived just in time to see the second policeman fall. They quickly rushed to the fallen, a large explosion erupted from the alley to their front. They all turned and pointed their pistols at the four people who were running to them. Before anyone fired, the calls of ‘Don’t shoot!’ and ‘Hold your fire!’ from other officers via radio were heard. This was the only thing that saved the arriving First Watch Agents’ lives.

All units, repeat, all units, hold your fire and pull back to the main intersection. Repeat, all units, pull back to the main intersection. First Watch agents are on scene.

Damn it! one of the new arrivals knelt down at the side of the fallen officer. Nothing to be done for this one, I’m afraid, he muttered before jumping up and rejoining the fight.

Shouts filled the air as four of the arcanists gave chase to the person running down the alley. The figure leaped into the air, aided by the use of arcane, to the roof of one of the houses, and quickly disappeared. The agents quickly followed to the rooftop and took up the chase once again. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, the agents continued their desperate chase of the murderous suspect along the heights of London and its streets. At various times, the pursued would rise up from his hiding spot and then would unleash a torrent of attacks, some of which found their mark, others missing. Soon, however, it became a number’s game. There were simply far too many First Watch agents against the lone assassin, and after a fast and short-lived chase, they were able to corner him.

Look, if you want to die, just continue to fight and we will gladly kill you, one of the negotiators from First Watch called out. Me, personally, I do not care if you live or die, but since we are being recorded, it would make for bad press if you died. After all, the budget is due in a few months, so good press is best.

You can go rot, for all I care, came the shouted reply. You think I am a fool, turn myself in so you lot can kill me without a fight. Sorry, mate, that’s not going to happen.

First Watch Lead Agent, Todd Giley, sighed and turned to the group assembled with him, Well, lads, looks like he is right. No way he is going to give up. Not this one, and that’s for sure.

Damn. We need him alive. He’s too damn important to kill. We simply cannot kill him, or Eleni will have our backsides. Where is that mentalist? Lead Agent, Robert Hamm, who was now in charge of the situation, took a long drag on the cigarette he was smoking. If she gets here in time, maybe we can pry what we need out of him before he does something stupid.

Like what? Look, he knows he has no chance. Why don’t we go in and end this now? That way, we’ll not run the risk of him getting away again or worse, him killing someone else? You saw what he did to those two officers back there. A mere look was all it took. That man is deadly, so let’s end this before someone else dies. Agent Oza Ro tried to hide the emotion and anger he felt at the loss of the two officers and the deaths of his fellow agents. His arguments, in Robert Hamm’s mind, were not unfounded.

Easy, Ro, Giley put a hand on Ro’s right shoulder. "Going off at this point will more than likely cause what you are trying to avoid, and that is more killing. Yes, you are right as rain, that man is dangerous and is more than willing to kill anyone who gets in his way. That’s why taking things slow and easy is the best approach at this point. Besides, Bob here is right. We need this one alive and you know why."

And if he will not talk or budge?

Agent Robert Hamm stared hard into the eyes of Agent Oza Ro, He killed two of us. He dies.

Part 1

Beginnings

Chapter 1

Soft footsteps echoed down the brightly lit hallway and a trio of silent figures walked purposely toward a door at the far end. Once reaching it, they entered without a knock and strode in with an air of authority about them. As they marched across the brightly lit, sterile room, they could see that five of the room’s tables were occupied with forms that were covered by sheets.

Standing next to them was a medium-built man with balding hair that was once black, but had gone to gray over the past few years. His dark eyes gave no indication of his mood as he looked up at the approaching group.

So, now you come out from under your rocks that you hid under.

The group stopped and looked down at the speaker. To the person, they gave no sign that they even heard him or that they even knew he was there. Without preamble, one of them threw off the sheet that was covering one of the forms. With a slight intake of breath, one of the new arrivals fought very hard to maintain his composure. His companion to his right failed to do so, and he had to look away from the remains of what was once a beautiful brown-haired female. Now all that could be identified was her face. A face that they all knew too-well from having seen it hundreds of times over the past years, a face that many would say, could launch a thousand ships. A face that, given the chance, could have easily graced the covers of any magazine in the world. A true beauty, but no more, for slash marks and the char lines of fire infected her body from her neck down to her toes.

The shortest of the group spoke first, So, it is true then.

The gray-haired man looked up, Plainly. It was First Watch. There was no chance. No chance at all. They were never given the option of surrender. Just slaughtered like cattle. His head dropped to the ground and shook slightly.

One member of the mysterious group reached out and put a hand on the grieving man’s shoulder. I understand how you feel, my friend. Rest assured, they died doing what they thought was right.

What they thought was right? Is that what you said? What choice did they even have? He stood up, knocking down the chair he was sitting on. I ask again, what choice did they even have? They were there doing what you wanted. What YOU wanted! he thundered. They were nothing more than kids who, for some unknown reason, believed what you had to say. Tell me how it was worth it. He paused for a moment, The real bitch of it is that I sent them. Now, what are we going to do? He led the way as the group exited the room. With one last look over his shoulder, he turned off the lights and closed the door and did not waste another thought on them.

As the assemble group gathered an hour later, in a plush room filled with rich furniture and fixtures, they all sat in the deep chairs and began to think about the future. The one simply known as D, as were all in the group simply known as a single letter, began the conversation

What we need to do now is to look at what contingency plans we have in place. Sadly, I can report that I have nothing at all. D lowered his glass and his gaze.

C stood up and walked to the bar and withdrew a cigar from the humidor that was placed in a corner of the bar top. I may have something, but it will be a very large risk on our part. One that could very well backfire on us. He walked to the center of the room and continued to address his fellows, I know of a way that we may be able to recruit some new talent. As we all know that we have multiple directions we can take. The first one is this, find and train young ones like we just did. Second, we could take a more active role ourselves. Third, we could look to other sources for talent.

What other sources? questioned B. At this question, C sat down. One of the many traditions that held here was that only one speaker spoke at a time and that the one speaking would stand up so that all you saw and heard was him. More importantly than that, it also gave the speaker an aura of authority. This tradition was violated just as much as it was upheld. I vote now that we do not take a more, how did you say, ‘active role.’ If we were ever exposed, well, that would be bad. Very bad. So, needless to say, I think that is not an option that we should explore. What I think—

A interrupted him, What I think is that I want to hear what he has to say.

Very well, A. I concede the floor. With a bow, he turned to C, who stood up and once again addressed the group.

What I propose is this. As you know, there are four universities in which students are trained at. Well, to be truthful, as you all know, there are indeed more in the world, but only four are here in this country that I believe produce arcanists of any significant ability. In three years, gentlemen, the Southern Arcane Institute will graduate a large class of Ph.D.’s. He paused for a second, What I propose is that we recruit some of those. He sat down and waited for the uproar that was sure to come. He was not disappointed.

A jumped up, ignoring protocol. Are you mad? he demanded. Just how can we hope to recruit talent of that caliber? The thought, the very idea of it makes me wonder if you have gone crazy. The rest of the group echoed A’s sentiments.

Hear me, all of you. I beg you, please. C stood on a chair so that he could once again command the room, I have a plan and it will work. I need your help to make it a reality.

Okay, said D with a bit of skepticism in his voice. Let’s hear this plan. Of all the group, D was the most intrigued because he worked and taught at that very school.

With a nod toward D in gratitude for his words and intervention, C slowly began to outline what he had in mind. Slowly, the minds began to change and after several hours’ worth of discussion, a plan was created.

C, you are a genius. In truth, I would have never thought of that. I shall do my part, rest assured, all. I shall do my part. With that, D got up and exited the room.

C, I too think it is a good plan. Risky, yes, but a good plan. Perhaps the best one we could have under the circumstances. But, there is something that we did not go over and we need to. Provided we can get the good D to come back. A few small laughs filled the room. In the meantime, what are we going to do? I think that is the next question that we should be asking ourselves. Thoughts? Comments? With that, another round of discussion was held that went long into the day and night. When all were satisfied with the plans, or at least, as satisfied as they were to ever be, the meeting then broke up and they all proceeded to carry their individual tasks.

Chapter 2

The Federal Bureau of Investigation, commonly called the F.B.I., is tasked with responsibility of investigating crimes that are nonmilitary in nature that occur in the United States. This is truly an awesome task that is performed daily by the dedicated people who work there, despite the enormous sacrifices and dangers that the agents must make and deal with on a daily basis. There are other government agencies that investigate crimes such as the Treasury Department and the Department of Justice, to name a few. In addition to all the other federal law-enforcement agencies, there does exist another branch of the investigative arm of the government, and it is called the Federal Bureau of Arcane Investigation, F.B.A.I. for short. It is tasked with the job of investigating, tracking, and capturing criminals who use the arcane in the commission of their crimes. This is by far an awesome responsibility when you consider that arcanists do not use common forms of weapons such as guns or knives, the type of criminals they must go after use the arcane as their weapon and this is what makes them truly dangerous. An agent of the F.B.A.I. must be trained in the arcane to such an advanced degree that he or she is able to recognize what type of arcanists they are facing, how best to handle them, and most importantly, when to call for help. Despite the very high degree of training and skill level possessed by the agents of the F.B.A.I., they, as a routine, run up against people who have a far greater skill level than the agents could ever have. Even though the odds can be and usually are against them, the agents do have the ability to call upon help from outside sources such as local, state, and if need be, federal aid. It is understood by all of the federal agencies that if the F.B.A.I. calls for help, it is given, regardless of the reason. This is done primarily because if any of these agencies need help from the F.B.A.I., then the last thing they would want is to have burned bridges between their agency and the F.B.A.I. After all, except for the European agency, First Watch, the F.B.A.I. is the only law-enforcement group out there that has arcanists on its staff than have enough skill and talent to handle rouge arcanists.

Located in the lush wooded areas state of Virginia, the F.B.A.I. is relatively close to the city of Langley, Virginia, which is also the home of the C.I.A. The multi-building complex that is the home of the F.B.A.I. is like most other large government installations in the world. It is comprised of several buildings that are, for the most part, interconnected via walkways and tunnels. When the complex was built, care was taken in the design and appearance of the buildings. Unlike some government buildings, the F.B.A.I. complex was designed to be as appealing to the eye as any of the great buildings of the world. The complex is a city unto itself, with a movie theater, hospital, schools, fire department, and a police department. The main building is the Alan Brown Building, and it houses the office of the F.B.A.I.’s Director, the honorable, J. David Baxter. Director Baxter was known to be a fair man who was a true master of the game of politics. Some say that is how he became the agency’s director. Others, who knows the true reason, say it was because he is very good at what he does.

Sitting several stories above the street below, the Director was treated with a very impressive view of the complex. His office was located on the twentieth floor and was suitably large enough to hold a small conference in it, but small enough that the Director did not feel he was lost. Director Baxter’s most favorite past time was sitting in his old, worn, leather chair and gazing out the large picture-window that was behind his desk; today was no exception. He leaned back in his large, black, leather, high-back chair and addressed his Director of Special Investigations, Lou Anthony..

Look, Lou, what’s the scoop on First Watch? Did they get them or no?

Well, that’s what they are saying. They firmly believe that they got them all right. Lou reached over and removed a cigar from the Director’s box. If it’s true, then the world can breathe a little easier tonight. Just how many years have we and First Watch been after them? Longer than our service years combined. He neatly trimmed the end of the cigar and lit the tip with a small flame that ignited from the tip of his right index finger. After a long draft, he continued, Well, what we need to do, is to send someone over there and get a report in person. That way, we can make up our own minds as to who, what, when, where, or how,"

The intercom buzzed and the voice of Director Baxter’s secretary was heard, Sir, Deputy Director, William Stevens, is here.

Finally. Okay, send him in.

Lou had a puzzled look in his eyes. You are going to send the D.D. over there?

No one else better for the job. No offense, Lou, but William is better suited for it than you.

None taken. He is much more of a political animal than I am, by far.

At that moment, the heavy oak door that served as the public entryway into the Director’s office opened up and yielded the person of William Stevens, the Deputy Director of the F.B.A.I. As William walked into the room, the Director noted that the long hours he spent in the gym were not going to waste. William sported a trim-fit figure that clearly showed the dedication he had to his workouts. James quickly glanced at his number-two man and noticed that the slight limp to his right leg that was normally small was slightly exaggerated today, a sure sign that the Deputy Director was under some serious stress or the result of a hard workout. What’s up, Bill? Grab a seat.

William moved to the indicated chair opposite of the one that Lou Anthony sat in. Okay, boys, here it is. Quick and dirty. They did get their target, but they did not get the ones we want.

Bill, are you still on that band wagon? How many times have we had this discussion? Lou placed his cigar in the ashtray to his right. Seriously now, what’s the problem?

The problem, Lou, is that yes, First Watch did make a capture and a kill. Second, I do not think their target was the ones we are really after.

That is not how Eleni is reading it.

I think she is wrong. William braced himself for what he knew was coming. The on-going argument between facts, supposition, and just an old-fashioned guess work.

Bill, look, how many times do I and everyone else have to tell you that you are barking up the wrong tree here? What proof do you have that this so-called shadow group is real?

I’ve got plenty of proof and you know it Look we all know that the intelligence game made up of facts, guesses, and a belief in your ideas. I freely admit, I believe I am right, he argued. Look at history. How many political assassinations have taken place over the years that were well-planed hits? Hell, in this country alone you can do your homework and find that there have been over fifty hits in the past twenty years. All of these hits have been done by arcanists. All of these hits have been very carefully planned and executed to the degree of military in precision. Think back to the Chan Young hit of ’77. Try and tell me that that one was a fluke? There was no way that anyone who did not know where he was going to be at that exact time could have pulled that one off. Oh no, my friends, there is someone out there who is setting up assassinations and they are using very high-level arcanists to do them. Sorry, guys, this is something I really believe in. I know I have argued this more times than I can count, but at least I’m consistent. He laughed.

The Deputy Director was referring to what was perhaps the most shameful event in the history of the F.B.A.I. On August 20th, 1977, Chan Young was the spiritual leader of a peace movement that had challenged the federal government to show the people that it was indeed making improvements in the lives of its citizens. This movement began to gain popularity mainly because it was not protesting the war or any other international event. It was protesting the way the United States’ government treated its own people. This statement echoed the feelings and views of the many people for whom the Vietnam War, and the massive protests that flooded the country and threatened to tear it apart, were still a very painful memory. In early June of that year, Chan Young had become the target of death threats from various groups around the country. Like the great peace makers before him, Chan Young’s mission was for the government to become more concerned for its own citizens here and for the people of the world as a whole. Though no one took the threats seriously at first, then came a day when Chan was at a gathering of ministers in New York, when a small bomb was set off under the podium when he began to speak. It was by luck that the builders of the podium used sheet metal rather than the so-called plywood for its creation. It was this extra layer of unexpected protection that saved him and the lives of the five other speakers who were all seated on the