Devious Origins

CHAPTER 30

Joe stared at the picture on the tablet. The hair was darker, the area around the eyes less wrinkled, and this younger version of him had no beard or mustache, but there was now no doubt it was him. Joseph Hartwell, financial analyst from New York. Reported missing four years ago, current whereabouts still unknown.

Joe sighed. "That seems so long ago now."

"You worked on Wall Street?" I made it a question, though the profile on the tablet already answered it. My goal was to get him talking.

"Yeah, for a while. Worked for one of the big investment banks. Did research, crunched numbers... basically gave the thumbs up or thumbs down on mega-investments and super-loans and all that. I used to bump elbows with hedge fund managers and CEOs. A real big shot, I was." His gaze wandered to the sky, like he was looking at some memory projected against the clouds. "None of it meant a damn thing, really."

"Was that where you met the demons?"

"No. Not there. People like to say Wall Street... bankers... stockbrokers... that they're evil. But they're just people doing a job. Some of them are egomaniacs and others full-on sociopaths. But evil? No, they're amateurs compared to the Demons. The Demons were before that. The Demons are right here in Penbrooke."

And then in some recess of my brain, the final pieces clicked together. "The fraternity. The Hallowed Hall of Alumni."

"You've seen them then," Joe confirmed. "The Demons with dead eyes."

Brian began tapping furiously on his tablet. "We do have a slightly higher than expected number of Omicron Upsilon Iota members in the list, but still low enough to be random variation."

"They won't all be listed as fraternity members," Joe explained, "not publicly. It started with the fraternity, but it's bigger than that now. The evil seed that grows a wicked fruit. The Demons are everywhere now." He began to fidget and glance around nervously, as if he expected a demon to show up at any moment. Whatever happened to Joe so many years ago, it was clear it had damaged him in some way.

Dee stepped up and gently took Joe's hand. "Please Joe, we need to know about these Demons. We need to fight them, and to do that we need to know what we are up against."

"They'll hurt you," he insisted, "it's what they do. They hurt people like you." He pulled away from Dee, but she held onto his hand even tighter.

"I won't let them. I'm stronger than that. We are stronger than that. Together we can beat them, but you have to help us."

Joe looked down at his feet, but nodded and began speaking again.

The story came out slowly at first. Joe would slip off track and begin dwelling on some unrelated subject. Other times he would just clam up completely and only start talking again after some gentle prodding from me or Dee. Gradually, he seemed to become more comfortable with the telling. Eventually his oratory even gained the character of eager confession. Some burden seemed to lift from him as he spoke, and the words came more quickly and freely. When Dee suggested we all go inside and continue the conversation, Joe surprised us by accepting. At some point during his unburdening, he had also shed his claustrophobia.

And Joe wasn't exaggerating. These people, these demons of his, really were evil. The heart of the conspiracy was a web of blackmail. They targeted freshmen college students, sons of wealthy or connected families, academic scholarship students with bright futures, the next generation of leaders. They recruited them into the fraternity with promises of brotherhood and support, a social network that could be depended on to advance their career for the rest of their lives, and that was true to some extent, but it came at a terrible price. Little by little they corrupted them. Enticing them to more reckless and thoughtless behavior, whispering in their ears all the while that they were above the restrictive morals of their inferiors. Eventually they were led to some act so morally reprehensible and criminal that their was no way out of the trap. After being shown the video evidence, the choice was clear and stark. Pledge unfailing loyalty to the conspiracy and continue receiving its support, or betray it and be destroyed. Very few chose the latter, and those that did usually didn't live long. An all too convenient suicide usually resolved the problem while serving as a warning to others.