“I understand you’ve asked Agent Jeong to give you a report along with some suggested plans of action,” Ferrari interjected. “That’s probably a good idea. She’s young and not so entrenched in Standard Operating Procedure that she may find a unique, yet plausible approach.”

  “I hope so,” Seven took another gulp and finished his drink. He poured himself another and motioned the bottle to the other two as if to refill. They both declined, shaking their heads.

  “I’m running a model on Spirit Portals and Energy Vortexes this morning, so I need to be fairly clear-headed,” Malloy said. He put his unfinished drink on Seven’s desk. “I’ll be available later this afternoon if you need me. Let me know if I can provide support for anything you come up with.” He glanced at his watch. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to head to the lab.” He thrust himself to his feet, executing a polite bow to Ferrari. “Ms. Ferrari, I expect that when we determine how to move forward on the CDRS case, you will push for forceful action.”

  She smiled up at Malloy. “You know I will, Morris. I’m never one to shy away from ‘terminating with extreme prejudice.’ If this cult or whatever they are means to harm our way of life under the pretense of religion, they’ll be dealt with accordingly. As Pierre Corneille said, ‘To take revenge halfheartedly is to court disaster; either condemn or crown your hatred.’”

  Malloy shuddered briefly, then paused, holding a finger to his lips. “Yes, but consider this as well, ‘Evil is always devising more corrosive misery through man's restless need to exact revenge out of his hate.’ We must be careful that we do not start a journey from which there can be no turning back.” He nodded to them both and exited the office.

  Seven leaned forward, his elbows on his desk, his hands clasped. “You two like to do that verbal sparring thing, don’t you?”

  Ferrari turned and fixed Seven with her single smoky, almost violet eye. It was amazing. She could convey more with her one eye than most could with two. “That’s what makes our little management team so successful, doesn’t it, Seven? Each of us plays to our strengths, and it makes the unit stronger as a whole because of it. I appreciate Morris’ viewpoints just as I value your insights. It’s what keeps us from going off half-cocked.”

  Seven scratched his chin. “Yes, I agree. Although sometimes when crap like this gym bombing thing and the manifesto from Phoebe Washington happens, it’s hard not to bring the hammer down — quickly.”

  “Especially when all the chatter from the group shows an inherent pattern of violence simmering just below the surface, ready to blow at any time.”

  “Right.” He took another swallow of his drink. “I’ll be interested in what Agent Jeong submits at her presentation. She’s pretty level-headed.” He suddenly grimaced and added, “Unlike Stryker, who always seems to fly by the seat of his pants, living large off Lady Luck’s good graces.”

  Ferrari flushed at the mention of Flint’s name. I’m like a damn schoolgirl around Flint Stryker, she thought, irritable that she couldn’t conceal her feeling more effectively. “He’s just intuitive and impulsive,” she replied. “His instincts are fundamentally sound; he just needs more operational experience to prove himself and steady his approach.”

  Seven leaned back and exhaled a deep breath. “I guess you’re right. We were all young once, right, Serafina?”

  “Speak for yourself, Seven,” she replied, giving him a don’t you dare look.

  Seven took the hint and cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m glad we ran into each other. I was going to call you and discuss what I think we need to do about Tesar Arman…”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Ferrari fixed Seven with a steely gaze. The patch over one eye made her good eye appear even more intimidating. “Go on.”

  “As you know, we’ve been dealing with Tesar Arman on and off for years. We’ve known for quite some time that he is intimately involved in many criminal and domestic terroristic activities here in the U.S. The problem we’ve had for the longest time is determining how he funds his operations and where his ‘seed funding’ comes from.”

  “Right. It’s a lot of tentacles reaching into everything and everywhere, but where’s the head?”

  “Exactly. Arman has pretty much set himself up as an entity unto himself, his fingers deep into lots of rotten pies all over the globe, but focusing on using the U.S. as a customer base for many of his illicit activities. Lots of ready money available for the taking for a smart operator.” He opened the file on his desk. “And based on what I see here, Arman is one incredibly smart operator.”

  Ferrari leaned forward, completely absorbed now in Seven’s commentary. “Yes. He’s smart, but he’s not the chairman of the board.”

  “Correct. Whoever’s ultimately behind all of this is content to let Arman be the frontman and make lots of money for himself, all the while establishing a pretty successful global enterprise.”

  Ferrari nodded. “I think he has designs on being at the top of the organizational chart someday, at the expense of whoever is the current occupant.”

  “I agree. Based on the digital files obtained by Stryker and Jeong from Arman’s computers, it appears that is indeed the case. Peabody was able to crack the heavily encrypted files and obtain a wealth of valuable information. According to him, the files would be virtually impenetrable even to the CIA’s or NSA’s best data counterintelligence efforts.”

  Ferrari shook her head. “Incredible. He’s a strange duck, but unbelievably brilliant. I’m glad he’s our strange duck.”

  “You said it. Although I don’t think he could function anywhere else because of his… eccentricities. The accommodations we’ve made with regards to his employment and living situation have built a pretty solid base of trust.”

  Ferrari laughed softly. “I’ll say. Watching him walk around the situation room in his pajama pants and robe can be a little unnerving, but everyone seems to take it all in stride.”

  Seven turned the file around so that Ferrari could read the documents within easily. “Take a look at the headings, categories, and the rows of figures associated with each. If you’ll notice, the cells are set up in such a way that the figures reflect two separate totals. One set of cells represents the income showing Arman’s take based on the various totals of reported revenues to whomever the big boss is.” He pointed to another column. “This column represents the hidden tables reflecting the actual monies secured versus the monies allocated to Arman and the cabal.”

  Ferrari’s eyebrow arched. “That’s a huge discrepancy! When you figure that the estimated amount of money laundered globally in one year is anywhere from 2-5% of global GDP, that’s staggering!”

  Seven nodded. “As much as a trillion US dollars flow through Arman’s fingers every year on behalf of this global faction, and he’s getting far more than his share is my guess. He’s so cleverly disguised his tactics in underreporting revenue streams, I’ll bet the leadership has no idea he’s ripping them off. They’re making a lot of money, but he’s making even more on his own.”

  Ferrari shrugged. “So, what do we do with this information? Do you know how to find out who the head of this criminal network is? Do we try to hang Arman out to dry by letting them know through back channels somehow?”

  Seven steepled his fingers at his chin and replied, “No Serafina, my proposal is even better than that, and we can make it all happen this afternoon.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Flint stopped by the cafeteria and had gotten himself a cup of coffee and a chai latte for CJ. He also got each of them an Everything Bagel with a schmear of horseradish/chive cream cheese. He’d have to eat fast. CJ ate like a lumberjack in spite of her petite frame. She’d demolish hers in no time and be scarfing his bagel with gusto if he lingered too long.

  He balanced his carry-all tray and opened the door to her workspace. “Ready for some chow, Cho-Soon?”

  She gave him a strong dose of the stink eye over the screen of her laptop, which was facing away from him. “You do remember I told you not to use my full Korean name, right?”

  “Excuse me,” he intoned sarcastically. “I guess I could just eat both of these by myself if you’re going to be such a pill this morning.”

  “Get your sorry hide in here.” She grinned eagerly. “Come to Mama.”

  “Well, I guess we could delay breakfast if you’re feeling frisky…”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically, “Don’t kid yourself, Flint. We don’t have time for anything but bagels and CDRS click-bait. You’re not going to believe some of the stuff I’ve been able to glean following the twisty trail of the Divinely Redeemed Sisterhood.”

  “Do tell?” Flint’s eyebrows arched as he grabbed another office chair and pulled it near CJ’s desk. As he sat down, CJ grabbed the chai latte and one of the bagels before his tail ever reached the chair bottom.

  “Mmmmmmm… Fantastic!” she murmured as she took her first bite of the warm bagel and the savory cream cheese.

  “Why thanks, CJ. I pride myself in my appearance. I always try to make sure I look extra buff for you, especially early in the morning. I do wish you’d try to show a little restraint at the workplace.”

  CJ groaned and took another bite, an almost too big mouthful, leaving bits of the cream cheese at the corners of her mouth. “Pleathe,” she lisped through her chewing, “I’m eating.” She puffed her cheeks, affecting a nauseous expression.

  Flint laughed. “Seriously, though. What have you discovered that’s got you so worked up into a lather?” He took a bite of half of his bagel, chewing noisily while loudly slurping his coffee.

  CJ stared at him, amazed that a grown man displayed no more manners than the average five-year-old. “Seriously, Flint? I’ve seen goats with better behavior than you, and I mean no disrespect to goats.”

  “C’mon, CJ. You’re too easy.” Flint grinned. “I’m just making sure you’re awake this morning.” He sat his coffee and the remaining half of his bagel on her desk and edged closer to the laptop. “Show me what you found.”

  CJ swallowed her bite of bagel and wiped her lips of the cream cheese before speaking. “I know you’ve just come from a briefing with Seven and Sherman, so you probably have a lot more in-depth information than I’m going to show you here, but I think this stuff is pretty important nonetheless.”

  Flint nodded, his face serious. He replied, “Yeah, the stuff Sherman had was pretty sketchy. The CDRS is a scary group, and what makes them scarier than most is that they are flying completely under the radar right now.”

  “Exactly,” CJ nodded, taking another bite of bagel. “The Church of the Divinely Redeemed Sisterhood positions itself as a spiritual group. Some might say it’s a religion. I’m going to call a spade a spade and say it’s a cult.” She chewed vigorously, awaiting his response.

  “I honestly don’t know enough about it one way or another, CJ, but if you say so, I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Trust me, this group falls into the cult category without any questions, Flint. I’ve gone through a lot of their public access resources, website, Facebook page, YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, et cetera, and there’s a lot of content. Everything they post for the general public has the common theme of the empowerment of women, mentoring them when they’ve been harassed or abused, giving them a valuable resource and support system, and so forth. On the surface, it all sounds benevolent and good.” She frowned, clicked on a website link, and took a sip of her latte and another bite of bagel.

  Flint’s eyes roamed the new page that popped up and saw links to buy books, audiobooks, CDRS video study guides and outlines, and an online subscription model for ‘expanded and in-depth study’ of the CDRS precepts. According to this page, ‘Sisters who desire to expand their desire to grow spiritually and experience the kind of empowerment that only comes through a program of on-going growth and learning, are encouraged to purchase Sister Inanna Laius’s various resources.’

  CJ moved the cursor over several of the book and video links, causing a pop-up displaying the price and an order button. “As you can see, she has turned her little doctrine into quite the money mill. According to the most reliable figures I’ve been able to find, she made over $20 million last year from her books and courses alone. That’s not counting the other revenues she’s generated through her online subscription study module, which is payable in 24 equal monthly installments. The videos are mostly short, free excerpts she releases on YouTube to entice people to click through and purchase the books and subscription module.” She paused to give Flint a chance to peruse the list of titles and topics of the materials available for purchase, taking another bite of bagel. “Mmmm… Delicious.” She popped the last bite into her mouth and dabbed her lips with her napkin.

  Flint reached for the other half of his bagel, and it came as no surprise that CJ had already consumed hers and the remaining half of his. “Smooth, CJ. You keep eating like that, you’ll get up over 90 pounds in no time.”

  CJ’s cheeks colored, and she lowered her eyes, “Sorry, Flint. I was starving. I’ve been here since about 4:30 this morning.”

  “No problem.” Flint smiled. “Maybe we’ll take an early lunch before heading out to the Sitrep breakdown this afternoon.” He nodded towards the laptop screen. “So, what’s your take on this CJ, as a woman and as a Linchpin agent?”

  CJ paused, staring intently at the laptop screen. “Honestly? As a woman, I wholeheartedly agree that some of the stuff she says makes perfect sense to the women who have been harassed, exploited or taken advantage of by men in positions of authority or power. For some of those women, this stuff can be cathartic, and help them move on from negative experiences and become stronger and more independent. I think most women who seek out the CDRS stuff fall into this category. But there’s a growing segment of her online congregation that is becoming more and more militant in their outlook and their pronouncements on social media and the CDRS chat room.”

  Flint nodded. “Yes. The stuff Sherman showed me on the Dark Web is pretty grim. There’s a lot of chatter about violence, ‘destroying the Patriarchy,’ and even open calls for attacking not only men in power, but men in general.”

  CJ sat back in her chair and stared at the screen. “Now, as a Linchpin operative, I have another viewpoint.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” Flint turned to face her.

  “This stuff scares the hell out of me.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Inanna Laius sat imperiously in the makeup woman’s chair. Her back was ramrod straight and her chin was tilted upward as if she were trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone at regular eye level. People moving through the area snuck surreptitious glances at her as they passed, hoping she didn’t notice. She smiled inwardly. She noticed.

  “This your first CNN American Sunrise interview?” the woman asked, her trifocals making her already prominent eyes appear even bigger.

  Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, Laius replied, “Yes. I’ve been featured in many news outlets, most of them dwelling on my leadership of the CDRS, and their fascination with a woman who is a religious figure. This is my first interview regarding the role that the CDRS plays in the societal construct and culture. American Sunrise and a conversation with Monica Coleman is a chance for women’s needs to be addressed frankly and openly on a truly global scale, and how the CDRS can benefit women going forward.”

  The woman brushed Laius’s cheek quickly, applying makeup to soften the glare of the harsh TV lighting. While she fussed over Laius’s makeup and hair, she kept up a steady stream of chatter. “I mean, it’s awful about that young woman, Phoebe Washington, wasn’t it? And that video. She was so angry about men! Casting them as the enemy, you know? I mean, men can be selfish pricks sometimes, but what’re you gonna do? Can’t live with ‘em and can’t live without ‘em, right, honey? My old man, Ron, now he drives me crazy sometimes, but deep down inside he’s a good—”

  Her voice broke off abruptly. Her right wrist, caught in Laius’s vice-like grip, was frozen in mid-air. “I think that’s enough,” she looked at the woman’s CNN name tag, “Beverly. I don’t want quite so much makeup this morning.”

  Grimacing in pain, Beverly gasped. “You-you’re hurting my wrist, honey. I didn’t mean anything—”

  Laius released her grip, and Beverly snatched her arm back, rubbing her wrist, and stepping back from the chair.

  “I-I’m sorry, Beverly. I should have mentioned it earlier. I sometimes have an allergic reaction to certain kinds of makeup. It’s my fault.” She gazed into Beverly’s eyes and spoke soothingly. “My apologies. I’m quite nervous this morning.” She cast her eyes downward. “I’m afraid the Evil One has been working overtime on me. He is making me fearful about my interview.” She raised her face and gazed into Beverly’s eyes, her voice soft and reassuring. “I just want to be at my best today. You understand, don’t you?” She smiled expectantly, her hand now placed calmly on the other one in her lap.

  Beverly’s brow relaxed as Laius spoke, finally smoothing out as if she had just received a mental full body massage. Where moments ago, she had been fearful and in pain, she was now relaxed and feeling a sense of tranquil bliss. “Uh, sure, honey, I understand.” She rubbed her wrist and added, “I don’t know why I go on like I do. I think the ‘Evil One’ sometimes gets ahold of me too.” She laughed. “When I get wound up, sometimes I talk too much and say things I shouldn’t. I’m just a talky old woman.” She spun Laius around to look at herself in the mirror. “How’s that?”

  Turning her head slowly, Laius looked at herself admiringly in the mirror. She gazed at Beverly in the reflection and smiled warmly, “Oh, Beverly! You did a wonderful job! Pardon my inexcusable rudeness. Can you forgive me? I feel so much better about my interview because of you! You have given me the confidence to speak Power to Truth in my interview this morning.” She beamed broadly at Beverly, her dazzling white smile conveying gratitude and humility.

 

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