The Law of Averages - Book 2: Chapter 167: The Oldest Weapon

This is how things played out, so far as they could gather: At some point after the UT Massacre, Echo and his People began to reach out. Sometimes it was to old allies, lifetime politicians who remembered past favors or long-lost promises. Sometimes it was to new faces, tentative feelers in the shape of anonymous letters and quiet visits. Sometimes it was to the young, those raised by former supporters who, for one reason or another, weren’t capable of aiding the cause at that particular point in time.

Hatred, much like dreams, was passed on from one era to the next. In these fresh faces, the People found reinforcements, willing and able to serve. With the revival of Champion, with the People coming to the fore, those old stories grandpa used to tell suddenly seemed a lot more compelling. The words of family, as they often did, overrode any protests from the government and the media. Champion was no murderer. Those things they said about him must be a lie. And so, a whole new generation, never before involved and thus impossible to track down, was quietly indoctrinated into the ranks of the People.

This was obviously a problem, but not one that needed immediate redress. Young and inexperienced recruits, grown up in a time of relative peace—comparatively speaking—were not likely to jump straight to terrorism and mass murder. They would take things in steps; a little vandalism here, a little theft there, nothing dangerous or lethal right up until it was. But that could wait. The real problem, the immediate one, was a man named Meriwether Madison.

Senator Meriwether Madison of Pennsylvania was a career politician, and the second longest serving senator at sixty-four years and change. He was a foundation of the United States’ Senate in the same way as the flags and the podium. He was also over a hundred years old, a World War II veteran, and a Natural. He’d been a known supporter of Champion, if not the People as a whole, a vocal opponent of the Vigilante acts, and had apparently met with Echo at least three times since the People had embraced domestic terrorism.

Anastasia described the man as a, “Crusty old fogey, stuck fast in his ways, but at least he’s consistent.”

Dan couldn’t tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not. He was certainly dangerous enough for Anastasia to respect. From the dossier he’d been provided, Madison’s Natural ability involved some kind of empowerment from nature, or perhaps just plants, the details were a little fuzzy. Whatever it was, it granted him health and long life. Though he’d passed his first century, Madison looked to be a well-preserved seventy. He could be found walking unaided every morning, just inside the borders of his massive property.

Senator Madison’s home really put the ‘sylvania’ in Pennsylvania. It was a seventy acre paradise of trees and meadows and shrubbery. It was positioned about half an hour outside of Harrisburg, just a little dirt road peeling off into the wilderness, with a stream running through it. It was probably the most beautiful countryside Dan had ever seen, and he’d only ever seen it from above. First in a publicly available satellite photo, the second from a drone courtesy of Anastasia. If Meriwether Madison was empowered by the nature surrounding him, he’d never be more powerful than in his own home.

He lived in what might generously be called a log cabin, but with its proportions stretched into wild impracticality. Each stacked trunk was the size of a young redwood, layered two dozen tall with windows cut out at set intervals. The door was a solid chunk of burnished wood attached by a pair of bulky hinges. The inside was mostly a mystery, even to Anastasia. She’d yet to fabricate a reason to wander past his property and examine it with her own power, and was operating under the assumption that he could actively control the forest around him.

“He can probably sense through the trees as well, even the dead ones,” Anastasia added, passing Dan another photograph of the house. This one was zoomed in on an open window, though it was little more than blotchy pixels. She tapped what looked like a brown smudge. “All the furniture we’ve seen is made of wood.”

Another picture, this time of Senator Madison himself. He was a stately old man, silver-grey hair swept back and an aristocratic face. Anastasia gestured to the perfectly tailored suit he wore and said, “His clothes are all made from natural fibers. From hat to shoes, even his glasses have wooden frames. It’s quite telling.”

“Okay,” Dan said, squinting at the picture. Try as he might, he couldn’t tell the difference. “I guess that makes slipping a bug into his home a bit tricky. How did you find out about his meetings with Echo?”

“Madison is a government official. He posted the meetings on his public itinerary. Three meetings over the past thirty years, and that’s just what we’ve been able to find. Echo used a different alias each time, but some exhaustive investigation has cast those identities into enough doubt that I’m sure it was him. Echo can change his face; Madison has the perfect defense if ever confronted. He can just claim he didn’t know, and make up whatever he likes about the meetings’ contents.”

Dan nodded, a little absently. He was trying to work out the timeline in his head. “So… Echo meets with Madison a few times over the years, presumably to secure support for his movement. Madison doesn’t report the meetings, either because he doesn’t know, or is aligned with their views. He uses his influence to plant moles in various federal agencies, one of which is Dunkirk. We capture Dunkirk, and Madison knows his man is going to rat him out. He sends assassins, and when that doesn’t work, he arranges for that mess in Memphis?”

Dan glanced to Anastasia, eyebrow raised. “That about sum things up?”

“More or less.” Anastasia was smiling in an eerily cheerful way. “You’re missing the most important part.”

Dan frowned, looked for holes in his thinking. He found it quickly, the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking himself.

“Echo doesn’t know,” Dan guessed. “That’s why he left the video of himself. It was meant to be a threat, in case it was some kind of government false-flag op.” Dan glanced at her. “That’s why you said it was a mistake. He doesn’t know his own ally set it up.”

“Not much of an ally, if I’m right,” Anastasia replied with a snort. “But this is politics, Daniel. There are no allies, only interests. In that moment, Madison’s did not align with the People’s.”

“But where did the False Cannibal come from?” Dan asked. “Did Madison have access to the Fridge?”

“I don’t know,” Anastasia said with a vicious grin, “but I am so very looking forward to finding out.”

“And to do that, you need to slip some bugs into his house and a tracker onto his person,” Dan finished, nodding his head. “All without him noticing, while presuming he can sense through his clothes, furniture, and pretty much everything surrounding his home.”

“Yes,” Anastasia confirmed.

“Well,” Dan mused, rubbing his chin, “I can see why you would need me for that.”

He eyed the blurry picture of the house. He would have to open a viewing door inside the house, and take a look around. No. Before that, he’d have to find out if Madison could somehow sense his veil. Dan assumed it was impossible, but better safe than sorry. Especially when they had no idea what kind of range limits they might be working with.

“Where is he now?” Dan asked.

Anastasia checks her watch, then quickly flicked through one of her folders. The two of them were currently sequestered inside a secure office within one of Summerset Corp’s many holdings. It was a large facility that processed silicon for use in microchips; this particular location was just outside New York City. Dan planned on stopping by Times Square for a pizza after the meeting.

Anastasia grunted in triumph and produced a sheet of paper. She ran her finger down the lines of text; it was a schedule.

“He’s in D.C. at the moment,” she explained, tapping a line. “He’s at a lunch meeting right at this moment. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” Dan said slowly, unspooling his veil and allowing it to bubble off his skin, “I should go poke him with a stick.”

The easiest way to test if Madison could sense Dan’s power? Stab him with it and see if he flinches.