A-Cup Angst Ch. 10

"So, no longer a regular Joe to oversee them," Joe said. Dana noted the inflection on the word "them" and wondered what it meant.

"Not so much," Dana said. "The new oversight is going to consist of a group of casters that the Conclave is going to elect. They're going to call it The Council."

"They're going to oversee themselves," Joe said, incredulous, "without the government involved? Is anything going to be considered a crime anymore, or is this bright, new future going to be a total magic free-for-all?"

Dana definitely heard the heavy inflection on "they". "Most of the spells that were forbidden will remain so," Dana said, "they're just arguing over what the penalties should be. Everyone seems to agree that Harris' authority to impose any punishment he saw fit was a monstrosity. It's the biggest part of the reason they refuse to even consider remaking The Suit's enchantments, or accepting Presidential appointments. Harris had headed Section for the past fifteen years and quite a lot of the casters assembled into the Conclave were actually very glad to see Harris go. Some of them had relatives that went into Section custody for a minor infraction and never came out. Others expect to be able to expand the number and type of magical wares offered to their clientele from now on. I guess you could say that the days of Harris' Section are over."

"So, they're going to prescribe their own punishments," Joe said. "Who's going to judge them?"

"Tribunals that the Conclave will elect," Dana said.

"Jesus Christ," Joe whispered. "It's going to be a fucking magic dictatorship!"

"Hardly," Dana said, "Everyone's terms, Tribunes, Councilors and Director, will last only one year and then the Conclave will meet again to elect new officials, or confirm the old ones."

"But that still," Joe said heatedly and stopped himself when the waiter brought them their drinks. When the man moved away, Joe whispered, "But that still leaves them above the United States' government. They get to elect their own officials, lay down and enforce their own laws! This is a violation of our nation's sovereignty! Who the hell sits in this conclave, anyway? They're not elected officials, I'll tell you that!"

"No, they're not," Dana said. Joe downed his Scotch and made a face. He gestured to the waiter for a refill. Dana sipped at his Scotch and said, "The people who sit in the Conclave are all the casters in the US that use their magic beneficially."

"Beneficially," Joe spat. "Yes, but for whom? Only for them! Most of these people use their magic to cheat honest, hard working Americans, of all races, creeds and qualifications out of their well deserved bread and butter! They use magic to sway businessmen into deals that greatly favor their own interests, or they use magic to..." Joe took a deep, calming breath. "Every single one of-" He stopped when the waiter brought him a fresh shot of Scotch. Joe seemed to carefully weigh his words before he said, "It's unfair advantage, that's what it is. Unfair advantage and a violation of one of the great principles upon which our great nation stands. The freedom to conduct business on an even playing field!"

Dana listened to the man and felt he had a pretty good handle of what he was about. His rhetoric reminded Dana of various extremists groups that advocated the exile or extermination of a minority group of one type or another. Dana could sympathize with the underlying sentiment of resentment and hatred towards magic wielders. He couldn't, however, overcome his very strong reservations about calling for the destruction of a minority that could fry them in their seats with but a thought. He spied a different server bring out two large plates heaped with food so he made only a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He was hungry from all that running around with water pitchers.

"And I'll tell you another thing," Joe said.

He stopped himself as their meals were delivered to their table. "Enjoy," the server politely said and left. Joe seemed to think he had said too much, so he dug into his food with gusto. Dana followed his lead. The man had already showed his cards and Dana was not going to offer him a way out.

After a few minutes, Joe paused and said, "What of the magicians that Section has in lockup at the moment?"

"Their punishments will be reassessed by the Tribunals, as soon as their members are elected," Dana said. "Judging by the prevailing mood in the Conclave, I expect that most will be released in short order."

"Christ," Joe commented. He stabbed another piece of juicy meat with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth. He slowly chewed on it as he looked into the distance, deep in thought. "The streets will be filled with supernatural assassins and rapists." Joe looked Dana in the eye. "And our national security will go to shit. They're already threatening the President with canceling supernatural cover for the carrier groups. What's next? No more protection for the nuclear football? The silos get scryed on, freely?"

"I think I can vouch for the fact that rapists and murderers will not, in fact, get released. Nor will the nation's strategic, nuclear armament be denied protection from sorcery. It's mostly the people that got thrown in lockup for charming their way past waiting in line and some such that will be set free. They have different plans for the killers and rapists." Joe's fork paused halfway to his mouth. His brow raised and he froze in place, looking very expectantly at Moran. "There's talk of creating readers."

Joe set his fork down as his jaw dropped. "Mind readers," he asked.

Dana wiped his lips and took a sip of Scotch before nodding yes. "The idea is to have the ability to ascertain a crime with absolute certainty at a moment's notice."

"Can they do that," Joe asked. His face was ashen.

"They certainly feel confident they can," Dana said. "Just don't expect me to give you an estimate of the feasibility of their plans. I know next to nothing about magic." Dana laughed mirthlessly. Joe gave a weak grin. "There's even talk of making psychics that can detect a magical crime in progress." Now Joe looked interested. "But, again, I'm just telling you what I heard around the water cooler. I have no idea if it's for real, or just wishful thinking."

Joe nodded, but Dana could see the gears turning in the man's head. The idea of detecting the use of magic to commit crime was, for some reason, very intriguing to him. After a few more seconds of contemplation, his features screwed up and he said, "Definitely just wishful thinking. Or propaganda. Got to be." Dana shrugged. "They don't have the power or the savvy to make something like that. They're not like the european agencies."

"Quite possible you're right, Colonel," Dana said. Joe raise his glass and politely saluted Dana's concession with it. When he brought it to his lips, Dana said, "They did manage to enslave a fresh vampire, though." Joe nearly choked on his Scotch. He coughed to clear his throat and his eyes watered. Dana helped himself to some more baked potatoes.

Joe kept coughing for a minute more and then took a large sip of water. He cleared his throat and said, "The hell you say!"

Dana nodded yes. "A very fresh vampire was caught and enslaved by a young spell caster this winter and Section operatives were able to steal it from him and transfer the enslavement. Section now has the ability to freely distribute magical power and life force amongst whomever they wish. Again, I'm no expert in these matters, but I am told that takes care of most of the obstacles in creating psychics and readers." Dana leaned back in his chair. "So, you see, Colonel, I wouldn't dismiss them out of hand, just because the head of the agency died in the line of duty. As a matter of fact, the young man that had caught the vampire also led the group that assassinated Harris."

"Would this be Jamie Jacobs you're talking about," Joe asked. Dana was almost stunned by the name. He tried to hide his surprise, but feared it was written all over his face. He thought the marine was just some resenting extremist loner. How on Earth could he even know that name? "We know a lot more than you think, Dana, and the Bludgeoner is practically famous to those in the know." Dana was very intrigued by the "we" Joe mentioned. "Hell, even the little people know about him. He went around the world in search of the nastiest, most lethal, supernatural, criminal organization the world has seen for decades. And not only did he find them, he wiped them out! All of them!" Joe chuckled. "That's something Section failed to do, even with help from fellow law enforcement agencies worldwide."

Dana nodded, surprised at the admiring quality in Joe's voice as he spoke of Jacobs. He had him pegged as someone who would like to see all casters die. And now he admired one of them? "Yes," Dana said, "he took out the Syndicate and set free many hostages that are connected to the supernatural community worldwide. He is, perhaps, the single most famous caster alive today. He is definitely the most feared caster in the world."

Joe pointed his fork at Dana and said, "And you've got an in with him."

Dana feigned surprised ignorance and said, "Me? An in with Jacobs? What makes you say that?"

"Oh, nothing much," Joe said, "just your long correspondence with the man and the fact that of all Section operatives, he's contacting only you to pass on information about his successful hunt of the west coast vampires."

Dana realized he had definitely misjudged the man. He is a player and he is probably part of some kind of interest group. Dana needed to get in good with them and see how he can use them for his advancement. His days of endless training with the Alpha strike and intervention team were drawing to their end.

"You've got a way about you, Moran," Joe said. "Here you are, Jacobs' BFF in Section ranks and you've managed to not get arrested and tortured after Jacobs snuffed The Suit."

"Well, I-" Dana started to say.

"No, no," Joe interrupted him, "credit where credit is due. You've got a head for politics. And a good one at that. So, what is Section's policy regarding Mr. Jacobs?"

"The general consensus is that he is a threat and that he should be dealt with," Dana said.

"They're not going to try to reach out to him and make nice? You didn't offer to lead the negotiations for an armistice?"

"No and no," Dana said.

Joe nodded with a smile. "Politics," he said. "You've got a knack for it. It's what makes you interesting."

"Interesting," Dana asked. "Interesting to whom?"

Joe smiled. "You should be asking how you are interesting," Joe said, "and not to whom."

Dana smirked and sniffed in disdain. He was getting a little tired of the man's inept playing at intrigue, on top of his original tiredness. "Please, Colonel," he said, "you are not speaking to a child. What was your plan, here? You'd flatter me a bit, buy me a drink and a meal, tell me of how you and my grandpa were the bestest of buddies, maybe saved one another's life, et cetera and I'm supposed to... What? Become your unwitting pawn? You want me to be your source from inside Section and you want me to put you in touch with Jamie 'The Bludgeoner' Jacobs. That much is obvious."

Colonel Franks looked like he was trying to suppress an expression of anger at being so obvious. "Now, unless you tell me something I don't know," Dana said, "which is who you mean when you say 'we' and what your interests are, I can pretty much guarantee that I will never, ever tell you anything you don't already know." Dana straightened back up and calmly stared at the old officer.

Joe Franks barked a brief laugh. He raised his finger and wagged it at Dana, appreciatively. "That just now," he said, "that gave me goose bumps, how much you sounded like your grandpa."

Dana sighed and dabbed at his lips with his napkin. "Thanks for the Scotch," he said as he made to stand up.

Joe leaped up and set a hand on Dana's shoulder, saying, "Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" Dana weighed the sincerity in the man's pleading look and then they both sat back down to resume their conversation. "Brass tacks. I can do that. The 'we' and the 'what' are two questions with the same answer. I represent a very large group of people that are utterly committed to safeguarding our great nation, its interests and its values against all enemies."

"All enemies," Dana said. "That's quite an undertaking, Colonel. I take it you have a certain group of enemies in mind that you would like to deal with first?" Joe adopted a smug, venomous smile as he nodded yes to Dana's question. "And that group would be?" In lieu of a response, the officer just nodded in the direction of the conference center they had come from. Dana swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "Section? You intend to take over Section?"

Joe slowly shook his head no, still sporting his disconcerting glare and grin combo. "No, son," he said, darkly, "we have a foolproof plan to wipe out all the casters, we just need someone like Jacobs for it to work."

"All the casters in America?"

Joe shook his head no, again. He smiled and said, "In the world."

Dana was stunned. He never expected anyone who knew about the truth of magic to be this stupid. To the best of Dana's knowledge, America greatly benefited from the angry curse the natives had placed upon its soil. The werewolf curse continuously threatened to come to life and not only decimate the population of the continent, but also to do it in a way that denied any possibility of hiding the existence of magic. If there was one thing all magicians in the world could agree on, it was that magic needed to be kept secret, or the mundane masses would tear themselves apart in hysteria. Nuclear weapons would doubtlessly come into play, either by the paranoid mundanes, or sociopathic magicians, and the world would be effectively destroyed.

Sure, most casters would survive the armageddon and rise to rule the small, scattered groups of survivors, but everyone with a functioning brain considered that a very poor result as it would rob them of most of the comforts of modern civilization. Since this was a result no one wanted, and America was under constant threat of being ground zero for the revelation, the US were the beneficiary of a tacit understanding to be left alone by all the magical organizations worldwide. Even the Thule society had refused Hitler's orders to act against the US. This supernatural tolerance is claimed to have bled over to the mundane world, or been leveraged by past mundane administrations, and allowed for the US to rise to its current status as a global power.

No matter how much the other countries hated official US policy, or how much more powerful than Section their organizations were, none made overt moves against Section in fear that the resulting melee would allow for the birth and possession of the shapeshifters. Dana considered the man across the table. If the Colonel was telling the truth and there really was a hate group stupid enough to try and undermine Section, or exterminate all magicians, then he was squarely against them. He adopted a solemn face and nodded along with the Colonel's reveal. He decided to infiltrate the organization, expose and destroy it, and thus earn himself a position of real power in Section. The alternative was to court death and destruction. Besides, he sincerely doubted this group could pull anything like that off.

Joe's eyes bore into Dana's like he could have seen the younger man's train of thought. "Of course," he said, "you're probably reminding yourself about the curse of the natives. It is, after all, the only reason why their contamination has been tolerated thus far." Joe relaxed fully and leaned back in his chair. "It is also the pivotal component in our plan to end humanity's enslavement by the sorcerous overlords. I know who you truly are, Dana. Your grandfather was part of our group and he reported your achievements to us, regularly." Dana's brow drew down in open hostility. "It's why I chose to approach you, how I know you want to be a double agent that sells us out for a career advancement," Dana casually put his left elbow on the table to hide his right hand sneaking to his sidearm, "and how we know for a fact that you will fully embrace our cause once I tell you what we found under a particularly featureless desert. Yup, old Misfire Moran vouched for you, personally.

"You're not being threatened, son. No one here will lift a finger to stop you if you choose to arrest me, right now. You can freely hand me over to Section for questioning and tell them that we found something in a desert. We've made good and goddamn sure they never get an answer out of me. They won't find out who the rest of us are, or what our big plan is. Even if they could find the place in the desert, it wouldn't help them any. We picked it clean. My part in this great undertaking has already been played out. My last task is to talk to you and then I'm done. I've passed on the torch of liberty." Dana's hand left his holster. He sat back and took stock of his surroundings one more time.

"So, this is where you pick your side, son," Joe said, unbuttoning his uniform and loosening his tie. "I wish I could give you more time to assess my words and examine the evidence for yourself, but, if they do have a vampire on hand, then time is the one thing we're in short supply of. Either you join us in righting an immense wrong that all mankind suffers, or you stick with your so-called friends and run around like a chicken with its head cut off until the trumpet sounds and judgment comes. Make your choice." He leaned forward and stabbed the last piece of meat on his plate. He brought it up and twirled his fork to look at it from all sides. "You've got until I finish this." He ripped the meat off the fork and started to slowly chew on it.

Dana's features set in an unhappy cast. He detested ultimatums. "All right," Dana said, "I'm in. But, just out of curiosity, how do you propose to stop me from becoming a double agent that destroys your group from within?"

Joseph Franks sported a somber expression as he swallowed his last mouthful. "We won't," he said. "And you won't be doing anything of the sort. Not after you've heard me out."

Dana coldly regarded the old man's weathered face. There was still a good chance the man was just plain delusional. At last, he sighed and said, "I'm listening."