Prologue
New
York City, September 11, 2001
It
was years in the making, and today was a culmination of their
efforts. Today, they would set the stage for the Agenda--and the
world would change forever.
It was approximately 6 AM in the
city that never sleeps, and Beth was stuck in traffic and getting
impatient. People were everywhere. The streets were bustling with
girls in short skirts sipping their lattes, children laughing on
their way to school, men in suits, and an odd assortment of
characters unique to the city. She wasn't too surprised to see the
streets crowded this early--she just wanted them to get out of her
way. “Can't you go any faster?” she asked her cab driver, knowing
the answer before she asked it. Her cabbie recognized people like her
immediately--they were everywhere in New York City. Rushing around.
Always late. Always stressed.
With
dreadlocks partially obscuring his face, he turned his head to face
hers. “Nah, miss, dis cah ain't goin' nuh weh',” he said as he
faced forward again and pointed ahead at the mass of vehicles in
front of him.
Damn, why today? Traffic in this city is such a
nightmare... The towers were clearly visible, they were so
close--just a few blocks away. All she had to do was get there. A
seemingly impossible feat of engineering, they were an architectural
behemoth that overshadowed everything in the city. The prima donnas
of skyscrapers, the twin towers of the World Trade Center may have
been the biggest, but they lacked the esthetic qualities of many
other skyscrapers in the city--notably the Empire State Building. But
that wasn't a fault of the towers themselves. It was their
generation. Gone were the elegant Art Deco stylings of the '20's and
'30's; the towers were a prime example of the structural
expressionism popular in the '70's. They were high tech. They were
functional. They were huge--they were not beautiful.
Deciding
on an alternate route, Beth pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her
purse and handed it through the partition to her driver. “Here,
keep the change. I'm going to get out here and walk the rest of the
way.” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped out onto street with
the faint echo of her driver's gratitude wafting in her ears. This
wasn't the first time she had gotten out of a cab before reaching her
destination. Patience--like her fashion sense--wasn't one of her
strongest characteristics. Luckily, her flats and her long stride
made it easy for her to navigate the busy sidewalks.
Beth was
forty years old, almost six feet tall, willowy, and rarely wore heels
unless she felt it absolutely necessary. According to her, that was
almost never. Heels weren't conducive to her way of thinking. In her
way of thinking, they were a form of slavery, much like ties were
nooses around the necks of the slaves that wore them. Almost everyone
was a slave. They just didn't know it yet. Beth wanted to change all
that. As the sun's golden rays began peeking through the New York
skyline, she smiled to herself. This was going to be a great day.
A day that will go down in history. She couldn't wait for it that
happen.
It
took less than ten minutes for her to reach Fulton Street and the
entrance to the North tower of the World Trade Center. Without
wasting a moment, she entered the lobby and couldn't help but to
appreciate the visual contrast between the bright and colorful
banners on display in the lobby, and the grey and sombre
monochromatic exterior of the building. It made the lobby, in all its
simplicity, seem much more appealing.
Heading straight towards
the security desk, she tried to get the attention of the older,
slightly paunchy security guard who was talking on the phone. “Excuse
me, do you have a key for me? My name is Candace Morgan, and I leased
an office on the 103rd floor for today. The agent told me I could
pick up the key here.”
Putting his hand over the receiver, he
said in a not- too-friendly voice, “Just a minute ma'am, I'll be
right with you.”
Impatiently, Beth tapped her finger on the
counter as she waited for him to finish his conversation. Repeating
herself, he answered, “Let me check. Just a minute.” After
searching his computer database, he unlocked a drawer and pulled out
a key while his printer trilled out an invoice. “I need to see your
ID.”
She pulled out the fake ID she had in her wallet and
handed it to him. “Here you go.”
Satisfied, he reached for
the paper coming off the printer and handed it and her ID back to her
saying, “Sign this please.” After signing it, he handed her the
keys. “It's office 9907. Take the elevators behind you. It's just
down the hall and to the left.” As he filed the invoice in a
drawer, he said, “Bring the key back before 6 pm or you will be
charged for another day.” Turning his back to her, he reached for
the phone again and dialed another number. I guess he's not a
morning person. C'est la vie.
Taking the keys, she headed to
the bank of express elevators behind her. There weren't many people
waiting at this hour, and it took no time at all for the elevator to
arrive. God I hate these things. Beth was somewhat
claustrophobic, and elevators were not her favorite mode of
transportation. Living in New York City however, forced her to face
her fears. She wasn't about to walk up 99 flights of stairs. She
would endure the distressing confinement of the express elevator for
least 10 minutes; then when she reached the sky lobby, she would be
able to take the stairs to get to her floor.
Beth chose the tower
to hold the meeting because she was familiar with it. Moreover,
holding a meeting in the clouds gave her more of a sense of security
than using an office building within sniper distance. In preparation
for the meeting, a catering company was scheduled to deliver their
breakfast in half an hour, and a security firm was meeting her in an
hour to sweep the offices for any recording devices--she wasn't about
to take any unnecessary chances.
She had leased this space under
the name of a shell company she had created which led to another
shell company that could never be traced back to her. She'd made sure
of that. She'd left her business cell at home, but did carry an
untraceable burner phone. Typically, she and her husband Ben carried
burners to communicate with each other--which were regularly
replaced. She had no computer with her either. She didn't need one.
Nothing that transpired at this meeting would be recorded, and
nothing could be traced. Everyone coming to the meeting carried fake
ID's and would be arriving in disguises. Hers was a long black wig
and brown contact lenses which obscured her shoulder length auburn
hair and emerald eyes.
Beth was a Watcher and part of a
world-wide alliance known as the Association. In addition to
Watchers, the Association's members also consisted of Implementers
and Planners. Together, they focused on changing the world, and that
was the primary focus of this meeting. They were now on the last
stages of the Agenda. Almost all members of the Association were
scheduled to attend, and Beth would be expecting them at 8 am
sharp.
After the hired help had come and gone, she surveyed the
room. The room itself was huge--it had once been a call center and
had held multiple cubicles, which were now long gone. In their place
stood two giant conference tables that could seat twenty-five people
each, with fifty soft black leather chairs gathered around them. A
dais stood in front of the tables, with two more black chairs to the
left. Fresh fruit, croissants, muffins, juice, hot coffee and tea
were laid out on an elegantly set table with a centerpiece of red
roses--waiting to be consumed by her eagerly anticipated guests. She
was satisfied. Ready or not...
Her heart was thumping
wildly in her chest as the time grew nearer for their arrival. How
would they react? So much had led to this meeting and now it was
time to organize and present their progress reports. She and Ben were
confident the Association would be able to implement the Agenda
within the next year. They both hoped the other members of the
Association would come to the same conclusions they had, but nothing
was written in stone. It had to be a consensus before any final plans
were made.
As her guests began arriving, their identities were
confirmed by a portable retinal scanner she had brought with her
before she greeted them and directed them towards the morning repast
set out against the back wall. Looking intermittently at the gold
watch on her wrist that Ben had given her on her 35th birthday, she
was getting worried. He had gone to an early morning meeting at the
university and hadn't contacted her since. Trying his burner cell, he
answered at the first ring.
“Where are you?” she whispered
into her phone.
“Sorry honey, I just got out of there. They
kept me for some ridiculous security orientation, and I was told I
couldn't return to work without completing it. I'm going to get there
as fast as I possibly can. Try to appease the masses until I get
there. Maybe tell a few jokes.”
Beth had to laugh. It was an
inside joke. They both knew she had a sense of humor only few could
appreciate. “Ok, Ben, I'll try to hold them off. Talk to you soon.
I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.” Hanging up, Beth
couldn't help but to feel a little less anxious. Ben seemed to have
that affect on her. He was an integral part of the Association and
its Agenda, and this meeting would never have taken place without his
efforts. All that was left to do now was finalized the planning
stages and implementation. Ben's contribution to the Agenda was, for
the most part, complete, so she knew it wasn't imperative that they
both attend. Still, Beth wanted his support at the meeting--if only
to calm her nerves.
Having had their fill of breakfast, her
guests were already seated and continuing to make small talk as they
waited for the meeting to begin. Ignoring a distant thunder in the
background, Beth stepped up to the dais a few minutes late to
announce Ben would be arriving soon, and perhaps lighten the mood
with some of her 'jokes' until he arrived. But before she could utter
a word, a male voice interrupted her. “Holy crap, why is that plane
so close?!” They all turned to look out the windows to see what he
was talking about. In front of them, a passenger jet was less than
half a mile away and appeared to be headed directly towards them; its
wingspan already stretching the expanse of the floor-to-ceiling
windows.
Oh no!!... Without hesitation, Beth yelled,
“Everyone move!! Head for the stairs. We've got to
leave--now!!” Simultaneously, they got up and headed for the
doors--but to no avail. A deafening roar hit as glass shattered and
hurled towards them like Japanese throwing stars. Blood splattered
everywhere as the Association fell--the now flaming passenger jet
upon them. It was too late. Her last thoughts were of Ben and her
daughter before the flames engulfed her, and her world disappeared
forever.
