Page 12 of The Society (Spy Girl 3)
"So you'd have a rough few years. You'd have to do some rebuilding, rebranding. You'd have the world's sympathy though. Other countries would be rushing to help."
"Or worse, rushing to take control," he states, looking upset.
"Giving them control of the Strait of Montrovia?"
"Exactly. In many ways, it would also give them control of Europe," he adds, getting up from his chair and kissing the top of my head. "I'm sorry, Huntley, but I must immediately discuss this with the heads of my armed forces. If you will excuse me."
"Of course," I say.
But he is already gone.
I finish getting ready, put on the dress Dr. Kate sent for me to wear today, and then go downstairs. I could actually use a mimosa right now. I am also wondering if I should call Black X and let them know my thoughts on this. But what I should probably do is talk it over with my brother.
"Good morning," Ari says, pulling me aside. "I was just asked to interview for something called The Society."
"What's that?"
"I'm not sure. It's invite only. The wealthy of the world. Charity stuff. Making a difference. It was a little vague. More will be revealed at the interview."
"Was I invited? Were you supposed to tell me about it?"
"I think it's a guy thing."
"Are you kidding me? What century is this? And who invited you?"
"Well, I'm not sure. I got a note."
"A note? What if it's a trap, Ari? Or what if it's just Allie messing around, wanting to reveal all of herself?"
"She's already done that." He grins. "Daniel has an interview, too. And I believe Lorenzo might already be a member. I think most of the men here, at the Prescott's, are in it."
"And it's a secret society?"
"Well, have you ever heard of it?"
"No, but I've been locked away for the last six years. But I have studied them. Throughout history, there have been rumors of secret societies. And if you believe the conspiracy theories, those kinds of groups rule the world, not the politicians--wait! There were conspiracy theories on my mom's necklace. Terrance said they weren't important, but what if they are? What if this society is behind what's been going on?"
"That would mean, the men we've met this weekend are all evil. You told me you thought Peter's father was a good guy. That he was trustworthy."
"Do you not agree with that assessment?" I ask.
"Even though I shouldn't because we don't really know him, I do agree. He's pretty amazing."
"And to hear him talk about Ares makes him seem more real, you know?"
"Yeah, I do know. It's clear they were quite close at one point."
"Speaking of close," I say under my breath as Aleksandr Nikolaevich and Malcolm Prescott make their way toward us.
"See what you can find out," Ari says, quickly ditching me.
I exchange good mornings with the two men.
"Okay, I'm just gonna ask. What is this Society thing Ari got invited to interview with, and is it really only for boys?"
"Men," Aleksandr says with a smile. "And you're not supposed to know about it."
"She is Ares's daughter. You remember how he was--had to know everything," Malcolm argues.
"I might be the same way," I suggest, hoping it will make it seem like I'm naturally curious and not peppering them for information.
"Well then, let's show her," Aleksandr says to Malcolm. Then he turns to me and says, "But you have to promise to speak to no one about what we tell you. For fear of death."
I notice a grin on each of their faces.
"Oh. Now, you're patronizing me." I roll my eyes. "Never mind. I'll just go get a cup of tea and join the women on the terrace--where I belong."
"Bullshit," Malcolm says, wrapping his arm around my neck. "But we do have to discuss it in private."
He leads us into a massive library. I scan the shelves, sliding my hand from one rare novel to the next. But then I realize the books aren't just collector's editions; there are present-day thrillers and historical fiction hardcovers intermingled with the priceless.
"You have a wide-ranging collection," I state. "Have you read all these books?"
"Not yet," Malcolm says. "But it is my goal. When I retire maybe, but I do take an hour every day to read. It stimulates the brain and keeps you sharp."
"And that is a direct quote from your father," Aleksandr says to me, laughing. "Something he practiced faithfully. We'd be out, tearing up the town, and we'd find him in a corner, reading."
"Tell me about The Society. How was it created? What does it stand for? If it does good deeds, why is it a secret?"
"How it started is shrouded in mystery," Malcolm says. "And I'll be honest; I love a good puzzle." He points to a podium where a book sits, encased in glass. "One of my prized possessions. A gift from your father."
"My father?"
"Yes, we were curious young men. Your father, downright brilliant. We were all invited to join, but he needed to know more. After much research, he deduced that The Society was actually started by the Medici family in Florence during the Renaissance. A passage in this book convinced Ares that Medici himself started the group as a way to protect himself from his enemies in foreign lands. He invited artists and lower royalty under the guise of contributing to charity for the arts, but really, it was to have his pulse on the state of the world as he knew it."
"I've been to Florence with my mom," I say.
But then I realize that was something I forgot. We had visited the city shortly before she was killed.
"Where did you go?" Aleksandr asks.
"Where didn't we go, is a better question," I say, fudging because I can't remember exactly. But I did study the Medici family in school. I'm hoping it's enough to wing it. "Did my father join?"
"All of us did. We were recruited by Lorenzo's father," Malcolm says. "Like I said, royalty."
"The movers and shakers of the world?"
"Something like that. Power has been wielded in different ways throughout history, but one thing tends to trump all."
"And what's that?"
"Gold, of course," Malcolm says with a laugh.
"In other words, you only get invited if you are very wealthy?"
"I'd say it's more a combination of political, monetary, intellectual, and ecclesiastical ties," Aleksandr adds.
"Is it like other secret orders in history--the Freemasons, Rosicrucians, and Illuminati?"
Aleksandr and Malcolm share a glance and then both imperceptibly nod, causing Malcolm to say, "By telling you about The Society, we are breaking our solemn oath."
Aleksandr closes the door tightly and locks it.
I feel a little nervous about being locked in, so I quickly scan the room, finding numerous items I could put to use as weapons. There are volumes of heavy books, a marble plinth, a crystal ice bucket, a wine opener, an ancient sword hanging on the wall, and a fireplace poker. I back my way toward the fireplace, just in case.
"Are you guys mad at me for asking so many questions?"
"On the contrary," Malcolm says. "We're excited that you are. Is your brother not as inquisitive as you? He has asked us nothing."
"Probably not. He was raised in a military family. His father expected him not to question orders. Plus, his note said that more will be revealed. My mom, on the other hand, indulged me by answering everything she could. The things she didn't know, we would look up together. She was maybe a little bohemian in nature," I lie.
Well, I sort of lie. My mother did always try to answer my questions, but there was definitely a time and a place for it. Looking back and knowing that she was a spy means things I didn't understand now make sense. Like why she'd occasionally leave me in a hotel room by myself to watch a movie. Why there were times we'd suddenly leave a place. Why she'd tell me to blend in and only speak in a certain language. Why, sometimes, we would dye our hair for fun.
A memory comes back--dyeing our hair, a desert location.
"That's why we're going
to indulge you," Aleksandr says. He walks across the room and hits an unseen lever, causing another secret door to open.
"Ladies first," he says.
I swallow hard, wondering if I should go inside, the warnings about Aleksandr from the CIA director flashing through my head. And why do I even care about this stupid rich boys' club? I highly doubt it has anything to do with my mother's death or Montrovia, especially knowing that Lorenzo's father was a member, too. They say that curiosity killed the cat. Maybe I shouldn't have asked so many questions, but I also know that, even unarmed, I could take down two grown men.
