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Vaughn nods and opens the door.
“Before you drag me to Terrence to be served a round of threats to derail my company and my public image, I have one last thing to say,” I tell him.
He closes the door again, slowly this time.
“What’s your end game? If everything falls apart, Terrence is the first one to go down ifthat’sthe suspicion you’re sniffing out. But what I want to know is, if that’s your suspicion, why are you still here? Anyone smart would hop on their private jet and be halfway to the main continent by now. But you… you’re stillhere. Playing the game as Gamemaker. Waiting. Calculating. So,” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table, “what areyouup to, Vaughn?”
A flicker of amusement crosses Vaughn’s face. “When I first met you, I thought you were just like me. Someone I could trust, could welcome into the circle of the elite Echelon Society. You deserve to be here after all. Successful, good in the public eye, but can party after dark. I had the best time of my life with you and those girls we picked up at the club in Santa Fe. I’ve never seen a bottle service tab that large.” Vaughn laughed. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Vale, you know how to play the part.” He tore the door open. I seethed in my seat, but didn’t show it. “Now, Terrence wants to see you. We’re already running late.”
Rising from my seat, I follow him out the door.
He leads me to Terrence’s room. When Vaughn opens the door, I can smell the familiar scent of expensive Cuban cigars. The door closes behind me as Vaughn takes his leave and I follow the rich scent of smoke.
Terrence is on the patio, the ocean a vast expanse of blue behind him as he looks out over the jungle canopy. Birds chatter among the palms, the sky cloudless and bright under the early morning sun. He doesn’t greet me, doesn’t even acknowledge me, just keeps blowing his smoke into the air.
I pull out the wrought iron chair and take a seat next to him. The box of cigars is open in front of me, so I take one, cut it, and light it, partaking in the silent treatment as we both sit and stare out over the jungle, smoke twisting in front of us as it disappears into the cloudless sky.
“My first games,” Terrence begins, tapping the ash of his cigar into the tray without looking at me, “I was an Advocate. This was, of course, after the Echelon Society was formed by my father, Charles Marlowe. It’s his legacy, these games. Backthen, the games were simple, centered around courtship. There was no bondage, or competitions of who could give head the best, or electric shock torture.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke and shook his head. “Back then, the Players were women from up-and-coming families. It made sense. Old money courting new money. And, of course, in my first games, I fell in love. Became a Gamemaker from there.
“When my father died, I stepped up, and as time went on, people became more… greedy. Power hungry. All of these power dynamics that exist between the Advocates and Players didn’t exist forty years ago, when I was twenty years old.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, and puff on my cigar. What he’s saying has merit, I’ll give him that.
Terrence inhales a deep puff, exhaling slowly before he says, “I know that you’re an informant for the federal bureau.”
I tap my ash into the tray. “How did you find out?”
Terrence finally looks at me, a knowing, smug look on his face, his white teeth a perfectly straight smile. “You think a multi-billionaire can’t hire good enough PI’s to look into everyone recruited here?” He shook his head. “For somebody who owns a security company, you have a lot to learn about how the world’s working behind the veils work.”
“World’s working behind the veils… you mean the Echelon Society?”
“It’s bigger than just who’s here at the games. These games are just one piece, and we are only one society of a few older, more powerful ones. But I didn’t bring you here to give you a history lesson, Vale.”
“Then whydidyou bring me here? I know you’re smart enough to know that if I’m gone past my designated time, the people I report to will come looking, and I’m not sure you want that.”
“How are you so sure about what I want?” Terrence gives me a long, pointed look. “I told you what I did about my father because I want you to understand something. Corruption has always existed in this world. Those that have been around long enough to witness it, and partake in it, are self-aware of it. But now… now there are those within the Echelon Society who aren’t even aware of themselves. Who behave like spoiled children. Nepotism is rampant. There’s corruption, and then there’s extortion. Our own structure is being taken advantage of.”
“You’re talking about Carrick.”
“More than just Carrick Reid. But I didn’t bring you here to talk about that, either. I know you know enough of that based on your lie detector game. I brought you here to make my last deal with you.”
“And what is that?”
“That I won’t stop whatever plan you have set into motion with your Player if you leave my name out of it.”
“With all due respect, that defeats the purpose of my plan, Terrence.”
“Who is it that you report to? Because I guarantee you there are more powerful people in the federal bureau, and those powerful people are a part of other societies I can dip my fingers into. I can destroy your name and your connection’s name just as quickly as you can destroy mine.”
I pause, dragging from my cigar as anger boils up in me. My connections are people that sought me out after I became public business partners with Vaughn. The deal they made with me was a promise to work with the federal government. It would be a huge deal for my company, money guaranteed for life. Even looking back on that, I see how my drive for money gave me the impression I was heading towards good.
Is that what Carrick thinks he’s doing, working towards good?
Here I sit with a moral dilemma, wondering if morality even exists, when the lines between them can be so grey. Money and power are easy to dismiss when you’re on the outside, but when you’re in it… the lines are drawn so easily, and erased even easier.
“How am I supposed to expose the Echelon Society without its founder?”
“Simple.” Terrence finishes his cigar, setting the butt in the tray. He looks at me, the sun glinting in his greying hair. “You assign a new founder.”
