Inside, The Council was already seated around their large, round oak table, and they showed little enthusiasm for the arrival of Kalakia’s entourage. Kalakia noted the new, more elaborate chandelier hanging high above the table from the twenty-foot ceiling which matched the 19th-century baroque style of the room. Were the expensive burgundy rugs and gold-plated arched mirrors not enough? The Roman-style columns standing in each corner were also new. Each of them had four lit candles on top.
Kalakia put his cynicism aside and took his seat. There were ten chairs in total at the round table; eight for the members of The Council, one for Kalakia, which was facing the tinted, bullet-proof window, and the last remaining seat for Stirner; the speaker and representative for The Council. Francois and the remaining security detail walked past the congregation and went next door to wait in the library until the meeting was over. Two stewards circled the table to ensure all cups were full of whatever had been wished for. Kalakia accepted a glass of water and exchanged nods of greeting with the members of The Council. Stirner was the last to take his seat. He waited until the stewards had left the room before majestically reaching his arms out with palms facing the ceiling.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s not waste any time. We have quite a few items on the agenda today. Our last meeting, I’m sure you recall, was more than three months ago, when this Neutralaser crisis, shall we call it,” he said, turning briefly toward Kalakia, “was first revealed to us. Now, things grew heated, let us openly acknowledge this, but let us also acknowledge that Kalakia’s actions were effective. The wisdom of his actions we have already questioned, as it is our duty to do so, but he achieved the required result; the Neutralaser project has been contained, and Inselheim’s team has been incarcerated. All fronts seem quiet. The United States, Russia, China and India are still in the dark as far as we know, and their nuclear programs have remained unchanged. It seems, for the time being, that no hostile government will gain access to The Neutralaser.”
“Oh come, Stirner,” said Richard DeLauer, who Kalakia was not surprised to see interrupting. “Let’s not delude ourselves. How long can we hold all those people prisoner? Hmm? And how many sources slipped through our net and are talking to our enemies right now? We all know this is too big to contain.”
“Thank you, Herr DeLauer,” said Stirner with a stiff expression. “Your concerns are shared by all of us. Let’s begin with Inselheim. What’s his status?”
All eyes turned to Kalakia.
“He is being closely watched,” said Kalakia. “We recently learned that the Inselheim Group has been having financial difficulties, mostly due to their over-commitment to the Neutralaser project.”
“That’s not acceptable. We can’t allow his company to draw unnecessary attention to itself at this point in time.” said Stirner.
“I recommend we offer him a bailout,” said Kalakia.
“Right. Let’s do that. And the prisoners?” asked Stirner. “I think we all agree that this cannot continue.”
“Our research team has finished creating detailed profiles on each person,” said Kalakia. “This will allow us to maintain surveillance and to take swift action if anybody speaks.”
“I don’t like this,” said DeLauer, shaking his head.
“Do you have any better proposals, Richard?” said Stirner impatiently, turning to DeLauer.
DeLauer straightened up and adjusted his glasses.
“Of course. We kill them all,” he said. “No loose ends.”
The table broke out in murmurs of disapproval.
“Ludicrous!” yelled Boris Parkishkov.
“Are you suggesting a genocide?” asked Phillip Burani.
This time Kalakia held his hands out to calm the table.
“I have considered this idea,” said Kalakia. “And it cannot be dismissed. These men and women have dedicated the majority of their recent lives to the project. They are social hermits without family commitments. However, friends and family members have been inquiring. And the news media has been connecting the dots. If we kill them, they will become martyrs, and we turn a difficult situation into a farce.”
“So what do we do?” asked Stirner.
“I have an alternate plan. We will time their release with the destruction of the facility and leave them with a warning. Their six dead colleagues will act as a deterrent. Without solid proof, any leaks will become conspiracy theories. Our disinformation team will take care of the rest. In the meantime, the device and computer equipment will be secured at another location.”
“Sounds risky,” said Stirner.
“In my opinion, it is the best path to take,” replied Kalakia.
“When can the relocation be done?” asked Boris Parkishkov with his croaky voice.
“Dastan Navolov can have a team in place in two weeks, but he will need assistance. Do we have any secure locations within Europe?”
“We have the old military bases in southern Romania. They have extensive underground tunnels and nuclear shelters,” said Phillip Burani.
“We could transport the shipment through the Danube from the Black Sea,” added Stirner.
“In which case we would be moving into Falk Braun’s territory,” said Kalakia.
“That’s right,” said Stirner. “Of course we’ll get in touch with him.”
“Done?” interrupted DeLauer. “Good. Let’s talk succession. We’ve stalled on this issue too long.”
“Thank you, Richard. That was the next item on the list,” said Stirner.
Kalakia’s skin began burning and he cut DeLauer a sharp gaze.
“Perhaps you would like to propose yourself for succession, DeLauer,” said Kalakia.
The table reacted to Kalakia’s comment with mild chuckles. DeLauer frowned and crossed his arms.
“I have the shortlist,” said Kalakia. “And I have carefully studied the names.”
“So you’re close to a decision then?” asked Stirner.
Kalakia thought about the latest news from Zürich. It was time to be realistic. In his mind, Marco Lessio the Brazilian was the lesser evil. He was exceptionally brutal, even if he had no reason to be, but was still an excellent tactician and a loyal
