Synarchy Book 1: The Awakening Read online

  By the late 1960s the public had become comfortable with flying and Loyalty jumped right into the commercial markets. In 2000 it bought out a major U.S. carrier and two smaller international companies, then expansion stopped with no plans for anything further.

  There was only one airline at the Loyalty International Airport on Alcyone Island, and that was theirs. No matter what other carriers tried to get a terminal, no amount of money would change a policy that had been set in place by S.V.T. himself. No one got on the island that Terenzio didn't know about. As tickets were booked the information was transmitted to the Phoenix Island Command Center where backgr­ound checks, credit checks, personal history, even medical records were run and shared with the MP database. Unknown to the tourists that simply came to the island to have a good time, cab rides, rental cars, hotel rooms, and everything in between were bugged with video and audio sur­veillance. When you brought someone into your home, you took no chances.

  At this late hour a lone Lear jet sat patiently on the black pavement, two armed guards standing at the bottom of the metal staircase attached to it. Both men dressed in white short-sleeved collared shirts and sharply pressed khakis. Wireless earpieces were hardly visible. The men’s gloved hands (we­a­ther not conducive) were comfortably wrapped around automatic rifles, a sidearm holstered to each of their hips. The words DION CORP were proudly displayed on the plane, and on the front of their shirts in tiny lettering on the right hand side. Once the sun set, any Military Police assigned to the airport were sent in full force around the Island to keep the peace. Consequently, Alcyone Island had been named one of the safest tourist spots for the last fifty years. Flights that were not meant for the public eye arrived during twilight hours and airport security was tasked to the Alcyone Island Omega Cadre, an elite special operations force, or the Pri­vate Security personnel of the Dion Corporation.

  No one from the Terenzio bloodline went anywhere without an armed escort, or was given a random pilot for their frequent globetrotting trips. That was the reason Alcyone AF lieutenant General Richard "Richie" Archer was present at such an hour. Archer either flew the Terenzio’s himself or hand picked the pilot to complete the assignment, a real honor. At 6'2, 225 pounds, the dark-skinned man was easily identifiable by the all black uniform. A blood red and ice blue stripe crisscrossed as it ran down the arms of the coat and pant legs. Instead of wings sitting on the shoulders of his uniformed coat, three small emblems of a Phoenix announced his rank.

  Seven years ago Archer, like a lot of the personnel on the island, had been a U.S. military man. He'd never asked how he'd been so thoroughly scouted but clearly remembered the day current Governor Isabella Terenzio showed up in his office. It had taken two short weeks to lure him away from duty to country.

  Archer arrived two hours before the scheduled departure to go over the flight plan. He was a meticulous man, nearly to the point of obsessive compulsive disorder with a steel demeanor, quick temper and zero tolerance for carelessness from anyone on the flight staff. By the time the limo pulled up he had inspected the plane twice, fired a mechanic and called in two fighter jets to escort them over international airspace. Ten minutes after the arrival of the three heirs the jet was slicing through warm blue Central American skies and headed straight across the Atlantic.

  §

  Simone curled up into a semi ball on one corner of the leather sofa. A tissue was squeezed to tatters in her hand, her bent knuckles set against her mouth as she struggled to control her emotions. It was a losing battle. The farther they got from their grandfather the more she realized his death was inevitable. A small tear fell from the corner of her eye, unhidden by the long black waves that stretched down to her shoulders.

  "How long did you expect him to live, Simone?" Vasco dropped his slightly taller 6'1 form down into one of the executive leather chairs, stre­tching both legs out in front of him. He pushed his short locks back from his forehead that wrinkled with a displeased expression. Even though he didn't laugh nearly as often as his brother, they both shared laugh lines around the mouth.

  "Fuck you, Vasco." Simone said it quietly but sharply without looking at him. Instead she continued to stare at the mp3 player that had been waiting for them when they stepped onto the plane. Richie had told them it was from Grandfather.

  "We can't all be as cold as you are, V." Lucien sat next to his sister, loosening the knot in his tie and shifting lighter gray eyes between his siblings. They had looked so much alike as children; it was interesting how time and this business of life wore on facial characteristics. Now you could easily tell them apart, even the brothers. Vasco had taken on more of his grandfather and great-grandfather's traits: a slightly pudgy Italian nose and aristocratic facial features. Lucien and Simone took on the more exotic genes, with a deeper hue to their skin tone and smoother lines around their faces.

  A wealth of emotion was hidden behind the darker gray eyes of the eldest as they settled on his sister. Sighing, perhaps in wordless apology, he tip­ped his head in the direction of the player. "Let's hear it."

  Drawing in a deep breath, steeling herself for the voice that would come to haunt them, she pressed the play button.

  §

  June 7th, 2012

  Alcyone Island

  Holt Air Force Base 12:15 AM

  Four military jeeps sped down a narrow two-lane road. The soft thickness of the jungle surrounded them in whispering shadows, natures’ nocturnal hum carelessly interrupted by the roar of the vehicles and the angry glare of headlights.

  Five-emblem General of Alcyone Islands Military, Amadeo Terenzio sat in the front seat, the musty air whipping around the officer’s hat, one hand raised and wrapped around the exposed metal bar above him. He always rode second in the ent­ourage, always traveled with one. It didn't matter they were heading for one of the most secure points on the island, Holt AFB, named after Colonel Jack Holt, war hero of the late nineteen twenties.

  Well, not exactly war hero.

  Holt allegedly had an affair with Liliana Terenzio, the Lieutenant Governor’s wife. Holt was killed during the volcanic eruption of 1927 but not by lava. A traitor had slipped in and began murdering those that evacuated with Terenzio. Despite Holt's alleged affair, he was given a hero's funeral and no one asked why. Right after, the Lieutenant Governor, then husband to Liliana abandoned his position, his wife and their two children. Liliana was given her husband’s job, and anyone who knew that unspoken history agreed she should have been giv­en the spot from the start. S.V.T. had never put a limit on how far the women in his life could advance despite what society, tradition, even the Cosa Nos­tra deemed as appropriate female behavior.

  But that was then.

  Now, five feet before the fog lamps could be seen the base could see you. At three feet the con­trol tower knew how many were in each vehicle and what they were armed with. One foot before the fog lamps became visible fingerprints had been lifted by remote scan off the dashboard, inside door handles and the steering wheel. By the time the vehicles came to a stop at the security gate, the base had a ninety-three percent success rate at identifying who was in the car. Those with no record found in the allotted time had their personal information subjected to a different process that would dig deeper. At that point visitors were held at the gate and security was put on high alert until they were identified and cleared.

  When their entourage pulled up, the tower was giving the signal for the fence to slide open. The base Sergeant met Amadeo at the jeep with a sharp salute. Behind him, two mechanical robots were unloading supply crates from a landed plane. "What time are they expected to be here?" Amadeo asked without preamble.

  "We have just been informed that they are not coming here, sir."

  Amadeo blinked, the surprised expression on his face as unhidden as the sure sudden spark of his temper. "Come again, Sergeant? Where the fuck are they?"

  Unconsciously the Sergeant took a step backward as he answered the question. "We were told, sir, that the inform
ation is above our security clearance."

  Fury darkened the steel of his eyes, a familiar trait. "Get Olivia Terenzio on the phone. Now."

  Chapter 4

  “A human being is part of a whole, called by us the “universe”… he experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few people near us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

  -Albert Einstein

  June 7th, 2012

  Dion Corp Executive Lear Jet

  Somewhere across the Atlantic 12:22 AM

  For the longest time I wondered how many moves ahead my father really saw. Wondered how many things that I thought I’d done on my own, was really his doing. And then I realized the blatant truth in his infamous statement, “I make you do nothing, the choices are your own.”

  My father started the game for ego and control. Typical Stefano. I didn’t change it because I’ve gone soft, though my silence over those motivates has left a lot of mistrust and doubt floating through the family that you now have control over. But taming that rift is not your goal.

  I changed the game for checkmate at first for nothing more than vengeance. The why of that, you will learn soon enough. There was nothing noble in my actions, merely a personal score that had to be settled. It was only after that, in the loving arms of a wife who forgave me for a year’s absence that I realized we would never win if it became a matter of tit for tat. It was at this point that I began to research in depth what we, now you, are up against, and what needed to be done to heed the words of a friend who wisely informed me of my soul’s purpose. It was here that I uncovered the truth about this world we thought was ours for the taking, and it solidified my choice to turn this family from one that rides the fence milking both sides for all they are worth and pick one.

  That is why I am sending you to the Vault, a place where you will remember who you are. There is also something I wish to impart to you of extreme importance.

  You will not win this battle without complete acceptance of a single emotion, and that is love. Through that emotion you will be able to forsake all else and ironically, do what is necessary. Love, yes don’t roll your eyes. Love of yourselves and of the souls in this world you are tasked with helping. It is time for them to make their choice, time for you to decide whether or not you will give it to them. The Ascension will not happen without Terenzio support, sooth your ego’s with that.

  Once you’re done at your destination you’ll find the rest is simply a game of chess. And I can say with certainty that while pieces have been lost no Terenzio has ever walked away from a chessboard without uttering the word, checkmate.

  Finish it. In light and love, good luck my grandchildren.

  §

  June 7th, 2012

  Undisclosed location

  Alcyone Island 4:44 AM

  The clock on the nightstand ticked away mockingly. Every snap of the second hand was a cruel reminder for Demetrius that another whom he loved he would lose. As a family they controlled so much, or at least they thought they did. They were powerful creatures; they moved like it, they spoke like it. You could see it glinting like the fine edge of a razor in the back of their eyes. But there were things, so many things, no one could control. He had not been able to save his sister, only carry the scar of a bullet. He could not save his wife, only sob soundlessly as his children were handed to him and the doctors attempted to consol the grieving new father. He could not save his own father, the rock that had kept him from collapsing under the weight of emotion his entire life. He was empathic without a shield; for whatever reason he was never able to form a protective one.

  He looked so much older than his years. Older than his father at times. The wrinkled face was weathered by life, not time. He sat in a chair next to the burning fireplace, his elbows res­ting on his knees, hands clasped together and pressed tig­htly against his mouth. Broken gray eyes watched his sleeping father with such intensity, as if by his mere will he could keep the dying man in this plane of existence a little longer.

  "If we could hold each other here by thought alone this family would have been saved so much grief." Marcello mumbled the words, gradually open­ing his eyes to focus them on his son’s face.

  What did it say about a man that thirty years later it still hurt him to think of the wife he had lost? Agony streaked briefly across his eyes and Demetrius drew in a long breath, shaking his head and replying quietly, "Including Amanda."

  Amanda his twin sister. She died at twenty through no fault of her own. Sadness clouded Marcello's eyes and he reached out for his son's hand, waiting until it was accepted before he spoke. "It was not your job to keep her safe, it was mine. I failed, not you." Amanda, who would have been more than a suitable heir, took two bullets. One was meant for her, the other for her brother. Lots of people had a vendetta against Terenzio; it was the nature of the business. But the men who had murdered his daughter hadn't been part of anything 'meaningful.' They were mere thugs, pissed off that a backroom deal hadn't netted them as much money as they wanted. Four lines of coke and too much alcohol later, getting back at Terenzio sounded like a great idea. The thugs had assumed that Amanda and Demetrius were either Liliana’s or Julian’s.

  The way life worked was both strange, and cruel. The twins always had bodyguards but this one time, Mari had been in the states on business and Marcello had allowed brother and sister to have a night out without a 'babysitter.' He had thought, perhaps too arrogantly, that they would be safe on their own island.

  Guilt was not a color a Terenzio wore, Demetrius the exception, but Marcello had nearly come apart at the seams for good that day. In his darkest moments he wondered if Mari blamed him for it, because he did so himself. She would not have allowed their children to go out that night unguarded and Amanda might still be with them today if her mother’s logical, ironclad sense of duty to her children had won out over a father's tendency to spoil and give in to mundane requests.

  Demetrius squeezed his father’s hand tightly, watching the far away look seep into his eyes. "Don't, Dad. Not now."

  Marcello snapped back to the present, smiling slightly at his son. "You care too much. That has always been your strength, Demetrius, regardless of what others have said."

  Demetrius opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the loud musical ring of his fat­her's cell phone. Demetrius looked surprised; Marc­ello did not, nodding at his son to indicate that he should answer it. Demetrius pulled the tiny thing to him, flipping it open. "Demetrius Terenzio."

  "Demetrius? I’m sorry for calling at such an early hour, but is Marcello there? I’ve got to talk to him." Derek said in a rush.

  Demetrius's brows shot up, ready to reprimand Vaughn for his cavalier attitude while his father was dying, but realized that because they hadn't been able to reach him, Derek didn't know. "Derek, now is not a good time. We've got bad news here…"

  "I’ll speak to him." Marcello struggled, pushing himself into an upright position, and held his hand out for the phone, cutting off his son's words.

  Demetrius’s expression turned curious. "Hang on, Derek, here he is." He handed the phone to his father, looking at him in question as to whether he should stay or go.

  Marcello motioned for him to stay. "What did you find, Derek?"

  "Sir, I don't know if you would believe me if I told you. Do you have access to your computer? You're going to want to see him."

  §

  June 7th, 2012

  Delgado Apartment

  Bronx, NY 12:15 AM

  The cold metallic black Cadillac did not fit in with the rotting neighborhood. It was grossly out of place parked in front of the dirty brick, rat-infested apartment building in a block too small for the structures crammed o
nto it.

  The three that rose out of the tinted-window luxury car were as out of place as the vehicle that brought them. Annoyance twisted the only female’s features as the trio entered the building and were forced to take the stairs to the fifth floor because once again the elevators were out.

  New York was not Terenzio territory. Only one piece of Terenzio control sat here (aside from Loyalty Airlines having terminals at JFK and LaGuardia) and that was S.V.T. Securities. One of the first subsidiaries of the Dion Corporation, S.V.T. Securities had been the best idea Stefano Terenzio ever had. The corporate security company had bloomed in the lawless years of the twenties under the clever guise of protection. While not nearly the largest one of its kind, it was one of the most successful.

  Senior Vice President Olivia Terenzio was in charge of all the S.V.T.S. offices along the eastern coast of the United States. On the side, discreetly, for her own amusement and profit, she ran a tiny loan sharking business on the NY city streets. It was something to do to pass the time, but on occ­asion it assisted in recruiting new faces into the company. After all, you never knew who you were going to meet, and who you could end up learning how to use.

  Collecting money owed was the reason for her visit to this shitty part of town tonight.

  When they reached their floor she motioned to one of the men behind her, a broad-shouldered brute with a nasty scar born at the corner of his eye that curved down the side of his face. A knife had barely missed taking his vision from him three years ago, all in a day’s work. He walked up to the apartment door and with a strong kick tore it from its poor excuse of a lock, sending it swinging wildly open.