Chapter 36 - The Coalition's Assembly
High above the North Atlantic, suspended inside a mammoth stealth aerostat cloaked against all radar and satellite imaging, sat the central council chamber of The Coalition.
Twelve figures sat around an obsidian crescent table, their faces hidden behind digital privacy diffusers.
In the center of the room, kneeling on the mirror-polished floor, was a battered, terrified Julian Vance. His tailored suit was torn, his wrists bound in biometric dampening cuffs.
Beside him stood the operative who had extracted Álvaro Miller from the federal facility. Álvaro lay huddled on the floor, weeping incoherently, clutching a bleeding scalp where a subdermal tracker had been violently carved out.
At the head of the crescent table stood Dr. Cassian Cross.
He was fifty-five years old, but his skin was taut, preserved by cellular regeneration therapies that the world below wouldn't discover for another century. His piercing hazel eyes were identical to those of Marcos and Mateo.
"Julian," Cassian spoke without looking down at the disgraced executive. "You allowed two eleven-year-old boys to dismantle thirty years of financial laundering in less than two weeks."
"They were prodigies! They possessed your blue folder!" Julian pleaded, sweat dripping from his chin onto the glass floor. "Lucía betrayed us! She trained them! I was only protecting the firm's assets!"
"You were protecting your own pathetic ego," Cassian said dismissively.
Cassian raised a hand. Two security drones descended from the ceiling, their heavy magnetic barrels aligning directly with Julian Vance's temple.
"Cassian, wait! Please! I have the offshore keys in the Caymans! I have the political contacts!" Julian screamed.
"The political contacts were bought with my algorithms," Cassian murmured. "You are obsolete."
A pulse of silent electromagnetic discharge lit the chamber for a fraction of a second. Julian Vance slumped forward, motionless.
Álvaro Miller let out an animalistic whimper, pressing his forehead against the floorboards. "Please... Dr. Cross... please, don't kill me! I did what you said! I stayed with Lucía! I took the blame! I pretended to be their father!"
Cassian walked over to Álvaro, his polished dress shoes clicking sharply on the floor. He crouched down, placing a cold, gloved hand under Álvaro’s trembling chin and forcing his head up.
"You took credit for their genius, Álvaro," Cassian said with a faint, venomous smile. "You humiliated my bloodline in public auditoriums. You paraded them as the offspring of a mediocre, thieving gambler."
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"I was acting! To keep them hidden!" Álvaro sobbed desperately.
"No," Cassian whispered. "You enjoyed it. You enjoyed basking in the light of an intellect you could never comprehend. But you are still useful, Álvaro. Because a father's voice, even a deadbeat's, can still lure frightened children into a trap."
