Kalakia paused then turned to the quietest General in the room.
“Vincent?” he said.
Scheffler had been sitting forward, tapping his fingers on the table while deep in thought.
“I’ve got concerns,” he said. “Suspicion’s growing. The online chatter is way too loud. Plus tributes aren’t being paid. Word’s going around that The League is losing authority. We’ve worked too hard to let this bastard take it away from us. Our pride’s at stake here.”
“You have a right to be concerned,” said Kalakia. “Our spies tell us the elite are publicly speaking out against us. Recent events have emboldened them.”
“I’ve already told my soldiers to make an example of anyone who doesn’t pay,” said Marco Lessio.
“This will not solve the deeper problem,” said Daps Limbaba. “We must cure the disease, not attend to the symptoms.”
“I think Kalakia’s idea makes sense,” said Scheffler. “Our surveillance on government and public figures is airtight, which means Stirner’s using the underworld for muscle. We take the list and we strike hard, all at once. We’ll make those bastards sing. When the dust settles, we’ll know what we’re dealing with, and we can round up the string pullers. Stirner won’t have anywhere to hide after that.”
“You do not appear convinced, Tamju,” said Kalakia, turning toward Lau, who was rubbing his chin and frowning.
“I have an unsettling feeling,” said Lau. “There are sinister forces at play.”
“What do you suggest?” said Kalakia.
“Caution,” said Lau, his eyes lighting up. “Utmost caution.”
The ominous nature of Lau’s shift in mood gripped the entire table. Marco Lessio sat forward and studied the proud-statured old man.
“We find ourselves in unprecedented territory,” said Kalakia after a long silence. “Our enemy knows us far better than we know him.”
“You know Stirner. What’s your guess about what he’s up to?” said Scheffler.
Kalakia looked away, focussing on one of the candles flickering in the distance. The League was as powerful as a firestorm where it counted but could be as fragile as a tiny flame in the fickle minds of the masses. One wrong move and the tide of public opinion would turn, sending through a gust of wind that would put out The League’s light. Kalakia was the man holding The League together. The flame continued to burn because he was on the throne, and he succeeded by remaining a step ahead. The League’s survival hinged on his capacity to outmanoeuvre Stirner.
Meanwhile, the longer he waited, the more fragile The League’s flame would become. With Inselheim in Stirner’s hands, it was only a matter of time before the geopolitical balance tipped in Stirner’s favour and the gust found its way to Kalakia. Morale and momentum were everything. As leader, his role was to remain steadfast in the face of uncertainty. The fate of The League depended on it. He turned back to his Generals.
“Stirner is a cunning man, driven by power and prestige,” he said. “His ego is fickle and infested with hubris. That will be his downfall. He plans to slay The League and establish his own global empire over its ashes.”
“Not going to happen,” said Marco Lessio, scowling and making a tight fist.
“He will be the first and the last to challenge us,” said Limbaba.
“We have a slim window to avoid catastrophe,” said Kalakia. “And we must make the most of it. Show of hands who supports the counter-attack.”
All four men raised their hands. Kalakia completed the vote by raising his.
He turned his attention to the map again. New York, Zurich, Doha, Tokyo, Cape Town. Stirner had gone global with his surprise attack. He had wanted to demoralise The League by cutting off its head while inflicting significant damage. The attacks were evenly spread, and information about the origins of the attackers was scarce at best. Stirner had used his intimate knowledge of The League with deadly effect while conspiring with Navolov and likely other members of the leadership. The attackers had struck with ski masks and mostly retreated without a trace. Kalakia’s hunch that there had been only a few traitors proved correct — otherwise, a revolt would have broken out when he annihilated The Generals and The Council, and he would be a dead man. As always, Kalakia bet that power was with the people. He was proven correct. The foundation on which he had built The League remained solid.
“Our objective is to uncover the scope of our enemy,” said Kalakia. “Strike quickly, and move your targets to a secure interrogation facility. Kill only when necessary.”
“What if we get a lead? Do we follow it or wait?” asked Marco Lessio.
The question highlighted a serious dilemma. The surprise nature of the first wave was aimed at reducing casualties, after which Stirner’s people would be on red alert.
“Report it to Intel, then pursue,” said Kalakia.
The table seemed satisfied.
“I believe Francois has some good news for us from Poland,” said Kalakia, turning to the corner.
Francois sat up and cleared his throat.
“The Berlin bomber is dead,” he said coldly. “Frederich Abel terminated him this morning.”
“Wonderful!” said Daps Limbaba while slapping the table with his mighty hand.
“Spit out the details,” said Scheffler. “Everybody needs to know.”
Francois wrinkled his brows and his face turned grim.
“Abel terminated Drexler and two of his associates with utmost prejudice. The news reported over thirty stab wounds on one of the victims. The city is in total shock.”
Kalakia studied the reactions of his Generals. Marco Lessio was licking his lower lip and smiling. Daps Limbaba narrowed his eyes and was nodding repeatedly. Tamju Lau stared off into the distance.
“If that doesn’t send a lightning bolt up Stirner’s ass, I don’t know what will,” said Scheffler.
“Why have you done this?” Tamju Lau asked Scheffler. “Where is the honour in such madness?”
“Honour?” said Scheffler. “Do you want to discuss honour with the families of Drexler’s victims? How about all those mutilated people laying in hospital beds? Or how about the fact that they killed our brothers and tried to assassinate our leader?”
“Senseless barbarity only begets more barbarity,” said Lau calmly. “A bullet to
