even always one of the two most commonly known. The clandestine organization succeeded beneath the radar because it did not hold any affiliation to man, woman, or party. It held no loyalty other than to that of the republic. The Sovereign Order existed to maintain a balance of power, to right perceived wrongs, and to do so without the scrutiny associated with our governing bodies.
International terrorists were assassinated. Domestic threats were eliminated—at the Order’s discretion.
The press reported the consequences without true knowledge of the actions.
Sometimes erroneous sources claimed responsibility. The Order didn’t barter for the spotlight.
Rarely were reports accurate.
All in all, the Order operated by the old adage: the end justified the means.
The way my brother-in-law became a part of the Sovereign Order was another of the Order’s less-than-transparent modes of operation. The government agency that doesn’t exist was primarily manned by soldiers who also no longer existed.
It was the perfect combination.
The Order saved Mason Pierce from death, not to return him to his life, but to give him life anew as a dead soldier walking. After all, what do dead soldiers with no memory of their life have to lose?
The answer was nothing.
Most soldiers in the Order’s army do not walk away. Again, how does one walk away from an agency that doesn’t exist? As had been and continues to be my brother-in-law’s modus operandi, he was the exception to rules and the forces of nature that by definition couldn’t be denied.
Mason’s death that Sparrow witnessed wasn’t his death but his rebirth into the Sovereign Order.
However, unlike others who had been like him, Mason’s unwavering blind allegiance to a covert organization was now severed.
He’d come back to his real life, agreeing to leave the knowledge that was supposed to be known by no living person, in his past.
The question now was, Did that past come back to claim him?
“I’m going with you,” I said, looking Mason in the eye. When he didn’t respond, I did. “You didn’t bring me up here to clear my head. You brought me up here to tell me your plan. And you fucking knew how I would respond.”
“What if something happens here?” he asked.
“Patrick and Sparrow will be here. I wouldn’t let you do this alone last time; I’m sure as fuck not doing it now if it means Lorna’s life.”
Mason nodded. “We need to come up with a plan. All four of us can’t fly off to DC.”
As he spoke, he banked the small plane, turning back toward the direction of his ranch.
Afternoon sunlight shimmered like a reflective gleam off of something on the floor of the canyon below.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
“What?”
I lifted my headphones back to my head and nodded toward Mason. Soon we were again communicating without screaming. “Can you bank back around? It’s probably nothing, but I swear that I saw something.”
The plane began to move as I’d asked, yet Mason’s reply was less positive. “We’ve been over this canyon before. It’s not far from my property line and isn’t even fenced. Out here is just wild land. Hell, locals could set up a campsite and it would take Seth a solid fortnight before he knew.”
I saw it again. A glistening coming from the canyon floor below. If Mason were right and locals had camped, it could be something as simple as discarded tin foil. “Can you land?”
Mason surveyed the land below. “Not without beating the shit out of the landing gear.”
“Can you go lower?”
A few minutes later we did a third pass and according to the gauge, our altitude was dangerously low at just over a thousand feet. I searched the area where I’d thought I’d seen the reflection. “Fuck, Mason. There’s something or someone there.”
Lorna
“Beginning...” I began. “I was born in Chicago, Illinois.”
The woman’s lips curled upward. “You were born at South Shore Hospital. Your mother tested positive for cocaine upon your birth so you were released to the custody of your grandmother, Margaret Pierce.”
I sat back and let out a long breath. “Well, you asked for the beginning. I don’t know any beginning before my birth, and it seems you’re well informed.”
“Who is your father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who fathered your siblings?”
Siblings?
She knew about Mason and Missy?
“I don’t know,” I repeated.
“Did you ever hear a name?”
I scoffed. “I heard lots of names while growing up. I would suppose you could give me any name, Tom, Steve, John...and I’d say I heard it. My mother was a fan of men.”
She nodded. “I’m not surprised you’re a bit more