The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (27 page)

“That’s not what the Legion does... Write off losses...” Uecker was red in the face, but as much as he wanted to storm off the show, he had already decided beforehand that he would see it through to the end. He had to cover as much as possible and give some good publicity to the Legion. He wasn’t exactly sure how good a job of it he was doing so far.

“Okay, Uecker, moving on: You are purported to be the expert on the Legion—a chronicler, if you will—”

“Hey, that’s what
you
called me. I said nothing other than I’m familiar with how the Legion operates.”

“In any case, why don’t you share with us exactly what the Legion does?”

“Yeah, I can give you the broad strokes—”

“Wait! But before we go into that, let’s talk history. I think everyone is curious as to how this organization came to be in the first place. How’d it all start?”

Uecker scratched his chin. “Loaded question…but I’ll give it a shot. This is my understanding of it: Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, speculated to be towards the end of the High Middle Ages—”

“This sounds like the start to some piss-poor folklore...”

Uecker ignored him. “There was a period of civil anarchy in Asia. It was specifically being spurred on by a cult group.”

“The cult group being the Legion?”

“No…this was something malicious. A group upholding dangerous ideals and leading men down dangerous paths. I believe this cult’s greatest power laid in their ability to spread. Their growth was phenomenal, and their influence grew rapidly throughout Asia and spread westward.”

Stiltson smirked. “So, they were out to take over the world, were they? Did this cult have a name?”

“The Demon’s Wake.”

“Frightening!”

“Anyway… Several men and women created a coalition—an opposing force to the Demon’s Wake. Men and women from Europe and Asia. It was a time where no one knew whom to trust.”

“That’s how it is at any time in history…”

“Nevertheless, long story short, in the face of adversity, these men and women joined together and managed to defeat and disband the cult. Thus, these were some of the first members, the founding members of the Omega Ops Legion we know today.”

Stiltson picked at his teeth idly with his index finger. “Great story, absolutely riveting—could have used a dragon though. Now, the name of this organization, the ‘Omega Ops Legion’—what does that mean? Omega Ops… Sounds militaristic and possibly genocidal. The ‘Final Operation’? And I suppose ‘Legion’ references the army from hell that will carry out this cleansing?”

It was Uecker’s turn to laugh. “Hardly. Omega stems from the Greek letter and was used to symbolize greatness and unity within the Legion. Ops is actually in reference to the Latin term meaning ‘having the power to aid or help’. And ‘Legion’ references the ancient Roman Legions that have been revered for their efficiency and skill.” Uecker smiled. “And there you have it. I suppose the name itself sums up exactly what the Omega Ops Legion is all about.”

Stiltson stared for a moment, then laughed. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, old man?”

“Seventy-two. Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well, this may strike you as news, but some people are sensitive about their age. But I had a feeling you wouldn’t have that problem. And you’re a member of the Omega Ops Legion?”

“No, I never said I was.”

“Well, you seem pretty intimate with their inner workings and the mythologies surrounding the organization. How is it you’re privy to such information?”

“I have many friends that are in the Legion. The first real taste of it was from my mother, Mary Clemens, a lovely woman. No formal ties to the Legion, but she directly assisted with progressing their work.”

“An unofficial member, so to speak?”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that. Warm personality—always tried to find the good in people. Involved with the charities the Legion organized. Financial and community outreach, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure every little boy
believes
their mother to be an
angel, but to raise a son like you, well…” Jerry let out a short laugh of derision. “The fruits of the labors speak volumes.”
 

“Really? Are you trying to bait me to come over there and slug you one? Makes for great on-air radio? Or maybe you just can’t help yourself from being a
jackass
.”

“Little of both, maybe?”

Uecker tried his best to control his temper so that he could continue to hit his points. He took a deep breat
h. “
As I was saying—
my mother
, she was exceptionally intelligent and would always try to fully understand why something was the way it was. She never blindly accepted anything as fact. I guess when I saw the type of woman my mother was and how the Legion influenced her life, I wanted to make it a part of my life as well—even if I didn’t officially join.”

“I’m curious... You seem to be so engrossed with the Legion; why
wouldn’t
you try to join it? Why not your mother?”

“I can’t speak on behalf of my mother on this, but for me, I suppose I like to operate from the sidelines.”

“Is that the reason? Or maybe, the thought of being officially tied to such an organization
scared
you.”

Uecker raised an eyebrow. “Why would I be scared?”

“Because in your fascination to dig deep, perhaps you learned a bit too much. Things about the organization that wouldn’t sit well with any man, woman, or child outside of their circle.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Stiltson.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here—to jog your memory. Tell me, what do you know about Bohemian Grove?”

Uecker stared at Stiltson for a moment. He scratched his head. “The Bohemian Club? That’s where all those rich republicans stand naked against redwood trees, right?”

“It’s where the world’s elite gather. The most influential, the most wealthy—the most powerful. Frankly, it seems like the meeting hall where these men decide what direction they’ll take the world in. Political agendas, corporate agendas... Some of these men have entire nations within their sphere of control. And where is the Omega Ops Legion in all this? What’s their connection with the Bohemian Club?”

 “I wasn’t aware that such a connection even existed.”

“Oh no? Are you aware that the Legion has long since associated its organization with the symbol of an owl? And that it has been suggested that Legion members have been in attendance at Bohemian Club meetings, where a forty-foot owl statue stands at the center of it all. Maybe it’s the Legion that formed the club in the first place!”

A tinge of red pinched at Uecker’s cheeks. In the back of his mind, he was struggling to comprehend how this annoying man got his hands on such information. Mind you, as far as Uecker knew, all the things Stiltson was spouting on about were just wild rumors. But to know about the Legion’s owl symbology… Uecker was very curious about Stiltson’s information sources.

Uecker composed himself. “As far as I know, the owl has been used by certain factions within the Legion some time ago. Currently, I don’t think it’s being associated with the Legion at all. But during the times that it
was,
it represented wisdom and knowledge. Nothing nefarious, as you would have your audience believe.”

“So, the Legion and the Bohemian Club both using the symbol of an owl is just a coincidence?”

Uecker scoffed. “And I suppose, according to you, the girls down at Hooters are all part of the conspiracy as well?”

Jerry smiled. “Please, we both know that women aren’t allowed membership into the Bohemian Club.”

“Well, the Legion holds no such prejudices. Many of its members
are,
in fact, women.”

“Then I suppose the Legion would be the front, and the real meat of the organization gets dished out within the confines of Bohemian Grove.”

Uecker rubbed his eyes. “Are you about done with the witch hunt?”

“Try to undermine the truth all you like, the American public are not the blind sheep you believe them to be.”

“I didn’t say anything like that! I don’t think—”

“Well, we’re almost out of time here, so I’ll give a few closing points on the issues: With the new millennium fast approaching, who knows what the Legion has prepared for us? Y2K might just be the beginning of their agenda. Once the financial systems inevitably crash due to these glitches, society as we know it could very well be thrown into turmoil. The Legion, no doubt, has planned for all of this and are ready to pick up the pieces and remold them to benefit the few, while the society’s masses—honest people like you and me, will be thrown to the wayside. Don’t let the Legion take hold of our country in such a manner. We have to fight back and it starts right here with us. We need to take back our rights and freedoms because organizations like the Legion sure as hell don’t want us to keep them. Stiltson out.”

Uecker’s face was red with frustration as he began to spit into his mic: “Yeah, and I’d like to add that all the garbage Stiltson vomits out onto the air are a bunch of half-baked conspiracies that don’t have a shred of evidence and panders to the lowest common denominator. Don’t let this moron of a radio host throw you into his delusional fantasy world.”

Stiltson stood up from his chair and stretched. “I’m sorry, Uecker, we were out of time, so that last little bit you had to say didn’t quite make it...but hey, great show! Listen, I know you personally know Bruce. If you would be able to bring him onto the show, we’d put him on in a second.”

Uecker’s eyes bulged. “So you can stick more skewers through him? You turn my stomach, you cockroach.”

Stiltson laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Hey, it’s nothing personal—just makes for good radio. And good radio makes for good ratings. Let him know, Mr. Jefferies. Let him know.”

“Go to hell.” And on that note, Uecker threw off his headset and stormed out of the booth.

***

Friday, November 5th, 1999

Four days since the First Bank incident.

The negative publicity the Legion was receiving appeared to be getting worse with each passing day. Bruce had optimistically predicted that the initial shock of the event would dissipate in a few days, and things would slowly get better. But after the Shocktalk interview with Uecker, the media had a gold mine of different angles to spin. It was painfully obvious there would be no end to Legion bashing in the foreseeable future. Leading the efforts was Shocktalk Radio and their media circus. It was unnerving how much pull such a trashy radio network had.

***

Arthur Finch had been invited to a quiet dinner at Kasparov Manor. Joining him at the table was Varick, Santos, and Alex.

“So where’s Frank these days?” Varick asked.

“Frank had to take care of some administration at Fort Bragg. I think he’s going to be there for a week or so. Might be going back and forth between here and Bragg over the next couple of months he said.”

“You didn’t need to go with him?”

“Not on this particular trip, no. Said it wasn’t necessary.”

Varick smirked. “But aren’t you the brains of the outfit, Arthur?”

Arthur shrugged. “That’s what I thought, but Frank said he could field this one himself, so why cut my vacation short? Still want to make a Liberty Island tour before I go.”

Santos returned to his seat after answering a lengthy phone call. “Teddy?” Varick asked.

“Yeah—asking for Bruce. He couldn’t reach him on his cell.”

“Was wondering when he was going to call here, with the mess that’s being going on... Bruce is probably still in Attica, just to hide and avoid the calls.”

Arthur was intrigued by Santos and Varick’s conversation. “Who’s Teddy? Bruce’s keeper?”

“Yeah, something like that,” replied Santos. “But since he’s not around, I end up getting the lip as if it’s my fault.”

Varick speared his roast potatoes with a fork. “It
is
your fault, Santos.”

“I didn’t tell Uecker to go on that show. And he was only trying to help.”

“Well, either way, I don’t think my dad is hiding from Mr. Guthrie,” Alex said, coming to his father’s defence.

“Don’t be so sure.” Santos grinned. “Sometimes your father can be a big baby.”

Varick’s cell phone began to vibrate in his pants pocket. He withdrew his cell and answered the call. “Hello?”

“It’s Billy. I got the information.”

Varick’s heart began to race. He hastily excused himself from the table to take the call in the hallway. Once he was out of earshot, he resumed the conversation: “Let’s hear it.”

“The person you’re looking for is a man named Lee. He drove the truck.”

“Where?”

“It’s a chop shop in Manhattan; Lee and the truck should be there. You got a pen for the address?”

“Just give it to me.”
Varick made a mental note of the location, then ended the call.
He instinctively ran his hand down his injured side.
This was it.
He made his way to the closet and put on his jacket.
 

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Varick looked behind him to see Santos standing in the hallway. “Something came up that I need to attend to.”

“You need a hand with it?”

“No, I can take care of this myself,” Varick stated sharply. Santos watched curiously as Varick exited out the front door without another second thought.

Once he was gone, Santos took out his cell and placed a call. “Hello. He’s on the move...”

***

9:30 p.m.

Varick arrived at the location Billy had disclosed to him: A virtually deserted lot. There was a small garage and a shed-sized
office beside it. Varick had parked his Lincoln on the outskirts of the lot, with the veil of night as his only cover. He drummed his hands on the steering wheel while performing a quick visual sweep—i
t appeared safe enough
.
He could see lights on inside the garage. Varick smiled grimly to himself.
Guess they’re still open for business.