Axler, James - Deathlands 60 - Destiny's Truth Page 25

  They could see that he was as immensely tall as he was wide, and he stepped with difficulty from behind the desk so that he stood in front of them.

  "You know, when I was a younger man, before the nukecaust, there was a tradition in the entertainments of the time for the villain of the piece to stand before the hero and say, 'Now you will die—but first I must explain my plans for world domination to you.' And of course, this would allow the hero time to effect some miraculous escape. I always used to wonder why the mastermind, supposingly so brilliant, would do something that was seemingly so stupid. In fiction, just a plot device, of course, to reveal the full extent and implication of the story to the waiting audience. But would it happen in reality?

  "Now, there is an interesting proposition—what would one do in reality? I had always wondered, and now I know. I am about to follow in the footsteps of my fictional forebears and relay to you my story, and why I intend to follow my current course of action. Of course, there are some differences. For instance, you will not escape, and you will be chilled…not immediately, it's true, but as the disease takes hold on you. And you will have the bittersweet knowledge of knowing what is occurring as you helplessly spread the pox across the lands above." He chuckled, high in pitch and suggestive of madness. "That rather appeals to me. The biggest difference is that in this scenario, I win. Now, that definitely appeals to me."

  Mildred's mind raced. There were several things for which she needed answers, and perhaps quicker than this dangerous buffoon would supply them. What was the disease? Did he have a cure, or was he intending to wipe out even his own people? And what did he mean when he spoke of being a younger man, before the nukecaust? Mildred had lived in those days and been cryogenically frozen; Doc had been trawled from then and before; but what was this man's secret?

  The companions were all lost in their own thoughts. Krysty's were running along similar lines to Mildred's. Doc, too, was pondering on the fat man's cryptic references.

  But the other four had separate notions.

  Dean was eying the comp terminal, and wondering if it would be possible to gain access to it if a fight broke out. He figured that the terminal here had to be the mother of all others in the redoubt, and from it he could control all the systems within the base, and free the Gate.

  Ryan and J.B. were balancing the chances of winning a hand-to-hand combat with the sec squad with a minimum risk of casualty against the option of waiting a little longer, lest the fat man give away more about himself and his organization that would help them in their battle against him.

  Jak was more decided. He was waiting for the chance to strike. He knew that Doc still had his sword of the finest Toledo steel hidden within the lion's-head cane on which he leaned. He also knew that the sec squad had been slack in not searching each companion, for he still had his leaf-bladed throwing knives secreted within the patched and metal-decorated combat jacket he wore. Although the words of the fat man might give them insight into why he was pursuing this course of action, Jak considered that this was completely irrelevant. To the albino, it was important to strike quickly. He trusted Mildred to know what she was looking for, and that their imperative was to move out of this room and look for the lab before freeing the Gate and wiping out the opposition. It was that simple. There was no time for anything else.

  But he knew that he would have to bide his time. Ryan was the leader, and although any of the companions could act independently if it was necessary, in a situation such as this they would have to take direction from the one-eyed warrior. A hierarchy had to be maintained if they were to pull together.

  It was just that Jak would have preferred to pull right now. Instead, he waited as the fat man began to unravel his tale. He glanced across at Doc, whose obvious distaste and disgust for this symbol of the corrupted world that had birthed the Deathlands was about to grow greater.

  "THE FIRST THING you must know about me is that my name is Emile Taschen. I am not the first to serve that name, although I am the same as the others. You see, although animals had been successfully cloned in the public eye before the nukecaust, there was always so much squeamishness about the concept of cloning in human beings that the technology was kept quiet. I am the third Emile Taschen, my two previous bodies having died from nothing more serious than old age. Number four is currently being grown in the labs, where he will be kept at fetal stage cryogenically until I get older, and will then be nurtured and birthed before I die…if I can ever be said to actually die.

  "I am taught my own memories and ideas, and these are absorbed into the blank state of my being. I am the perfection of science and humanity. Everything else is lesser, and I bestride it like a colossus, leaving everything to wither and die in my shadow."

  So that was the answer, Mildred thought. Cloned, and then the clone kept in isolation and fed the ideas and thoughts of the previous generation so that it became a carbon copy rather than a genetic copy open to variation from social conditions. It would seem that Taschen had solved the problem of living forever, even if it did seem somewhat by proxy. And what if some of the memories fed to the clone were distorted by time and telling? How could it have a grasp of identity? Perhaps this gradual erosion of identity accounted for the creeping defects of agoraphobia and the onset of madness. She was halted in her thoughts as Taschen continued.

  "You're probably wondering how someone such as myself managed to create such a structure as this without being part of the military-industrial complex on either side of the divide. The answer is simple. You become that which finances the military industrial complex. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that what you refer to as 'jack' has always been the oil on the wheels of human activity. It was the same in the days before the nukecaust—perhaps more so.

  "I first became aware of the Totality Concept when I was a banker in my homeland of Switzerland. In the days before nukes, my land had always maintained neutrality, based around our banking industry. Money was the richest commodity in every way, and it bought peace, as well as prosperity. Those who controlled the jack controlled the world. But nukes made things different. Even with bunkers to hide in, there would be little to come out to—certainly not a society that we could serve any purpose within. So when the political situation of the world worsened in the latter half of the twentieth century, I knew I would have to search for a solution to my problem.

  "It was then that the cabal of generals first came to me. They were from the U.S. military, and they were seeking a way to hide and increase the funds they had taken from their military budget. There were scientific and weapons projects that were being developed away from the eye of the U.S. Congress, which would either have stopped them or made their existence more open. This wouldn't suit the cabal, who took the usual military view that a civilian government was more of an imposition than a necessity. Democracy was a concept for which they had little, if any, use. Something I agreed with—you must always watch your own back, on the assumption that nobody else will be bothered.

  "My own banking activities skirted around this kind of activity—what was known as the black sector, because it stayed in darkness. I had a certain reputation as a man who could hide vast sums of money, and could also increase them with speculation and the courting of outside investors, who would not necessarily be aware of the full facts relating to their investment. I confess that this aspect used to amuse me at times.

  "But amusement was something that soon took a back seat to more pressing matters. The scope of the Totality Concept and the projects that were gathered under that umbrella were breathtaking in their imagination and diversity. Here was something that would ensure the winning of any conflict that may take place, and the mastery of the world. To be frank, I have never been sure if any one member of the cabal, or myself, was ever truly aware of everything that was contained under the umbrella of the concept, such was the double-dealing and secrecy involved.

  "It became apparent to me that a conflict from which there would be no escape sh
ort of a total war was approaching. Call it a combination of the egos and paranoias of the men involved and their will to prove themselves the better of their fellow men, or call it just the desire to play with toys and prove that they work, and that all the expense and work were justified. Whatever it may have been, it was an inevitability."

  The fat man called Taschen was obsessed with his ideas and his organization—of that there was little doubt. The companions watched him carefully, and with rapt attention. Any scrap of information may be of use, although each of them in turn wished that he would get to anything that may have relevance with haste, as they were finding his egotistical ramblings dull.

  In Doc's case, it was a little more than that: the man with the complex history spread over three centuries had the utmost contempt for the thinking that had empowered the cloned banker, and the ideals that he perpetrated. So much so that he had to interject, "So tell me, O great and mighty one—how, pray tell, did you progress from being a mere money broker into such a major player that you can command this? And, if it's not too much trouble, to what end is all this frippery, anyway?"

  Taschen fixed the old man with a stare that was half amusement, half hatred. It was clear that he didn't relish being interrupted, but the question in itself only acted as a prompt to the next part of his tale.

  "You must, perforce, be Dr. Theophilus Tanner. I had read about you, but never thought that I would meet you. You always sounded a troublesome and obtuse man for someone who was seemingly so bright. A view that I find unexpectedly—and a little disappointingly —confirmed."

  Doc gave a mocking bow before replying in sarcastic tones, "I am so terribly sorry to have let you down…and, indeed, to have interrupted you at such a crucial point in your narrative. Are you, in fact, about to unveil your entire plan before us?"

  Taschen indulged Doc, despite the bristling of the sec squad at the old man's tone.

  "Most amusing," the fat man stated. "But you are correct, indeed, in the assumption that I am about to explain the whys and wherefores to you. Partly, I fear, because that old dictum about leadership and responsibility being lonely is proving to be quite true.

  "However, that would be to dwell on the side of self-pity, and that is not my wish."

  Mildred closed her eyes and had to concentrate hard on staying conscious. The pain from her treatment at the hands of the guards, and the continuing effects of the pox, were beginning to weaken her. And yet she suspected that, despite his words, self-pity was the entire motivation for Taschen's activities now, and that he was soon to reveal his secrets—and perhaps give them the break they needed right now.

  Taschen continued. "The interesting thing about being a banker in Switzerland was that money was not the only commodity in which one dealt. Secrets were a much more valued and valuable commodity, in fact. At my facility in Geneva, we had safe deposit boxes, the contents of which could easily have changed the course of history several times daily—perhaps they did. Who can tell? The point I wish to make is that money powers secrets and secrets generate money. The two are interdependent, and as a banker I was able to trade off this dependency and make for myself a power base from which to build not just my own survival, but a way of making sure that the next time around a glorious society would arise from the ashes of old order, and make a new order that would lead the world into a better era."

  "Pernicious claptrap!" Doc spit. "It has been the same throughout history. Those who wish to foist their own views upon an unsuspecting and unwilling world always seek to justify their own egotism."

  Taschen shrugged. "A small minded view, and little more than I would expect from one such as you. When you have access to the secrets of power, then you are privy to the small mindedness of most people. And if you have a vision, then you realize naturally that you have been chosen by the fates to shape their very existence.

  "I began to become interested in a Bavarian philosopher and schemer called Adam Weishaupt, who had founded a society known as the Illuminati. There were some who believed that this secret cabal had grown in power since its founding in the late eighteenth century, and that far from being outlawed and then disbanded, the successors to Weishaupt had used this as a cover from which to recruit at all levels of world governments, forming an inner circle that actually ran the world. All I can say is that, were this true, they had made an extremely bad fist of matters. No, my friends, the Illuminati had not existed for some time, and even when they had their influence had been limited in the extreme. However, that did not mean that their ideas had been bad, merely that no one had previously acquired access to the right sources to make them work.

  "Of course, now that I was in such a position, I would be a spineless fool to ignore my destiny. Such secrets as I did not have within my immediate grasp could be obtained by a mixture of blackmail and bribery, feeding the fear and greed that fuels the desires for power. I used money from my bank, and from the banks of fellow adventurers and bankers that I recruited to my cause. Naturally, I had every intention of dumping these fools by the wayside as I continued, but at this point they did not have to know that. I wished to keep them all in the dark, and in this I think I succeeded."

  "So why did you end up here, and not back in Europe?" J.B. asked, hoping to steer the discourse toward matters the companions wished to explore.

  Taschen shrugged, his immense bulk wobbling as his shoulders heaved. "Where else? The main players were the USSR and the U.S.A. There was little chance of cooperation with the Communists, who already had their own version of the game in progress. Besides, the vast majority of my contacts were within the black areas of the U.S. military-industrial complex, so it made much more sense to pursue this option. So I relocated my home and also my business base to the U.S.A., leaving my office in Switzerland as nothing more than a shelter from which to avoid investigation by the U.S. authorities—although given that those investigating would be those under my thumb, the only thing I truly had to avoid was the publicity that such a matter could entail. I had many of the intelligence agencies and military projects bought off, and the only reason I cannot be sure of the true extent of the Totality Concept is simply that it was so vast that I ran out of time to explore and exploit before some fool started the nukecaust."

  The fat man sighed and settled his bulk on the edge of the desk, which creaked beneath the weight.

  The companions were starting to tire of his ego. Ryan and J.B. itched for action, and Jak was already contemplating the knives hidden about his person. To strike quickly would leave Mildred with time to search for the lab once they had released the Gate. The forces within the redoubt seemed to be smaller than they had feared, and could be dealt with by a determined force such as the one waiting in the vast mat-trans chamber beneath them. Mildred and Doc both felt distaste, for their own reasons, and wished the fat man would cut to the chase so that they could take action. But for Dean and Krysty, there was still something that needed an answer, something that didn't add up. It was Dean that raised the matter.

  "Look, I don't get it," he began. "When we first came across some indications of the Illuminated Ones—which isn't as good a name as the Illuminati, so I figure you screwed that one—it was mixed up with what Mildred told us was the counterculture, the young people who figured that the ruling sec were screwing up and wanted to build some kind of alternative. I don't see them going for your shit."

  Taschen threw back his head and roared with laughter. He stopped, looked at the expression on Dean's face and laughed again, this time louder. Finally, he stopped and explained, using the kind of tone that suggested they were more stupe than he had realized.

  "That was my finest touch, I feel. I had to allow myself a little humor in what was, after all, a fairly humorless environment. It seemed a splendid jest to recruit so-called subversives and counterrevolutionaries into a movement that was allegedly opposed to the prevailing military culture, but was in fact using that very thing to manipulate it toward its own ends. Those who believed they we
re fighting for a freedom from such—as they saw it—oppression were in fact upholding the very ideals and complexes that they opposed. It was merely that it carried another name. My foot soldiers were the very people who would gladly have spit on my grave. And it did, of course, also serve the excellent double purpose of keeping them off my tail."

  "That's pretty sick," Krysty commented. "But then again, what would I expect. Are you happy with what you've made?"

  "Ah, no—not me," Taschen countered. "You must remember that I did not begin the nukecaust. In point of fact, my reason for building this was in knowing that it was inevitable, and in waiting for what would happen afterward. And that's exactly how it happened. When the nukecaust came, and the long, hard nuclear winter began, I retreated to my redoubt and ordered my people to do the same. The cloning project was at such an advanced stage that I was assured of my own future. There was, over the ensuing decades, some diminution of my forces—natural wastage, and the necessarily limited gene pool have taken their toll, but there are still several bases left across the world, keeping in contact via mat-trans and comp Links. The tech is still there, and so are we."

  Ryan was alarmed. How many of these bastards would they have to chill before their task was done? "How many bases are there?"

  Taschen allowed himself an indulgent smile. "You think I would really trust you with that knowledge? As with everything, only I know the true answers. Even the other redoubts are not fully aware. Nor, come to that, are they in full knowledge or contact of their true numbers or purpose. I would not be that stupid. Knowledge is power, and I aim to retain that power. When they are required to act, they are told…but the basis is strictly need-to-know. Without me, they would be survivors of another age, isolated in this new world. With me, they are a force that will run this world. Even those who came here from the redoubt you ruined, like the barbarians you are, have been dispersed among the other bases, awaiting their new orders when the time is right."