The very same evening the Night Guardians gathered together in the control room for an urgent meeting. Everyone's eyes were on Geek, "Omicron is a large international company that finds its way into the Fortune 1000 every year. It has around fifty thousand employees and two hundred offices and subsidiaries around the globe. Annual revenue amounts to twenty billion dollars. Omicron does business in banking and insurance, consulting, construction, wholesale and retail sales of everything from toilet paper to giant industrial engines. That's the basic info, Wikipedia-style."
Geek was walking back and forth while the screens on the wall behind him were showing slides with various information: stock prices, photos of the company's facilities and properties, pictures of employees.
"But in reality, Omicron is the sketchiest company ever. I talked to our FBI friend, the one from the white-collar crime division, and he told me a very interesting story. Omicron is one of the oldest companies in the States. Its founders might have just as well sailed here on the Mayflower. What would any other company do in this case? Add ‘since the year’ on its logo and make a huge deal of its long and rich history. But our new friends did the exact opposite. The Bureau has traced Omicron back to 1820, and since that time the company has undergone seventeen transformations. And we are talking not only about changes to the name or address. The predecessors would get closed, bankrupted, split into smaller pieces and merged with bigger firms. But a more detailed analysis shows that all those changes were fake. For example, in 1870 a reincarnation of Omicron called Delta Union declared bankruptcy, and all of its assets were sold at an auction. The buyer was a certain previously unknown Uncorp, with ten members on its board, eight of which of course came from the Delta Union. Similar schemes were pulled all seventeen times."
"And what's the point of these shenanigans?" asked Stoker.
"They cover up their tracks," answered Mike. "Once a company gets closed, all its debts, all obligations – all its sins are erased. The archives ‘accidentally’ disappear during the transfer of ownership, and the staff is cleaned of unwanted elements. And, lo and behold, they've got themselves a brand-new, law-abiding firm."
"The FBI is of the same opinion," continued Geek. "The government has been trying to nail Omicron for more than a hundred years. They are suspected of all kinds of financial crimes and about fifty other felonies including a 1950 murder of a Nebraska governor who stood in their way. But this corporation is a ghost. It cannot be caught red-handed because each time the hand vanishes into thin air. And this is more than just gray-area ways to cover up old crimes like fake bankruptcy. According to the FBI, over the years almost thirty employees and people affiliated with them went missing."
"They took out people with a big mouth," elaborated Stoker.
"Exactly," replied Geek. “The FBI has no doubts that Omicron does a lot of illegal business which is more like saying – all of the company's legal business is just a front for its real interests such as money laundering, smuggling, drugs and weapons, and so on. The law enforcement agencies put the real revenue of the company anywhere in the range from 50 to 500 billion dollars which suggests that Omicron might be the biggest corporation in the world."
"Okay, that much is clear. Is there any evidence connecting Omicron to nighttimers?" asked Mike.
"Obviously, I couldn't find any hard evidence. During the several centuries of their history, these guys have mastered the skill of covering up their tracks well enough to fool even radiocarbon dating. But there are several interesting points. First, it's the Brotherhood symbol discovered by Sam."
Hundreds of interpretations of the primes’ symbol started to flash on the screens behind Geek's back – colored and black-and-white, fine and bold, simple and embellished.
"Omicron's seventeen predecessors in total had changed their company logos twenty-five times. But all of them, as you may notice, clearly resembled the Brotherhood mark. That's one thing. And you'll love the second thing even more. Guess who owns our beloved Blood Inc. through a layered cake of five companies?"
"The world's biggest supplier of donor blood belongs to the evil corporation?" I threw my arms into the air in a triumphant gesture. "Touchdown!"
"There's more," Lee joined the conversation. "I called our friends in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and other cities that have Omicron and Blood Inc. offices. They dropped by, taking along infrared cameras. It turned out that half of the security at the Omicron HQ in NYC are vampires. The head of the Chicago office of Blood Inc. is a vampire. Two senior deputies in LA are vampires. In other cities the picture is similar. The majority of employees are humans, but when it comes to security and management, the share of dark violet silhouettes gets suspiciously high."
"Case solved. We have officially blown the cover of the Brotherhood of the Dark!" exclaimed Stoker, and then he turned toward me, offering a high-five.
Mike rubbed his chin thoughtfully, sighed heavily, and spoke again.
"This is all wonderful but the fact that Omicron is a shady piece of business doesn't prove anything. Any corporation has at least a hundred major offenses on its account. Humans aren't the most kind-hearted and law-abiding creatures on the planet, you know. They are quite good at killing each other without any help from vampires."
"But what about the thermal images?" I just couldn't hold back.
"If we drop by the 6th precinct, you'll be surprised to see how many vampires work there too."
"And the blood?! Blood Inc. – who else would need a blood supplier if not nighttimers?"
"Daytime vampires, for example. Not all vampires in our country get our Bloodberry."
I opened my mouth to throw another objection at my uncle but he gestured for me to stop.
"I'm not saying that this is impossible. Omicron would be perfect as a cover for the Brotherhood, risen from the dead. That is if it did rise from the dead, and I'm still not convinced of that. There's definitely someone powerful behind the story with the converts. But before we light our torches and set off on a crusade to the Omicron headquarters, we need to be certain it was them. Besides, we cannot be sure that the entire company is in the game. It could be only Blood Inc. or even some of its executives," uncle Mike looked at Geek. "What do we have on the brass of Omicron and Blood Inc.?"
"According to the FBI, Omicron is controlled by a rather suspicious family under the name Irving."
The screens behind Geek lit up with new portraits.
"Father, mother, five children, uncles, aunts, nephews, and cousins – altogether more than fifty people. All sketchy as shit. The head of the family is Heinrich Irving."
A scan of an old and yellowed newspaper came up on one of the screens. The photo captured a stately man with a thick beard and cold eyes.
"I've found only five photos of him. And the situation is even worse when it comes to his biography. Different sources cite seven different dates and nine possible places of his birth. Even the FBI isn’t confident in their information on the family. The only Irvings who don’t bother with staying under the radar are the youngest children – Chloe and Sebastian."
The screens flashed with dozens of photos made in nightclubs. Chloe proved to be a tall skinny blonde with a haughty though cute face, and Sebastian looked a lot like a pale phlegmatic guy straight out of a Victorian novel.
"These two never miss a single big-ass party, be it in LA or Tokyo. Nonetheless, they never talk to the press either and have no accounts in any of the social networks."
"Am I the only one here thinking that Irvings look just like primes?" Stoker spoke again.
I raised my hand to show that I agree with his opinion. Geek also nodded in approval.
"Okay," my uncle spoke gloomily. "In principle, I'm on the same page. But let's keep digging. If we end up storming Omicron, we need the most comprehensive data on them. I need our people to stake out every single office of the company. Get me the exact number of vampires, their names, positions, addresses. Get me everything," Mike turned to Lee. "Find all Omicron's vehicles, submit the data to our software, and search for anomalies. Cross-check that with the converts case. There might be someone else involved besides the man with the cufflinks. And find me that man!"
That was the first time I'd ever heard Mike raising his voice. The whole story with the converts had clearly put him out of step. And no wonder – the head of the Order of the Night Guardians let the Brotherhood of the Dark rise back to power right under his nose. But my uncle quickly returned to his normal calm self and continued.
"Have Luma describe that man so that we could make a sketch and check it through face recognition."
"I…" I tried to object timidly. "I'm not sure right now is a good time."
My uncle's eyes stopped on me and lingered for several seconds which made me feel somewhat uneasy. Then he turned his head toward Lee.
"Okay. Collect all the data on Omicron first and then we'll get Luma involved," he peered at me again. "But the sketch has to be done. This is not up for discussion."
I nodded in acknowledgment.
"I'm ready," came a voice from somewhere in the back.
Everyone turned around. Luma stood behind me. We were all so carried away with the discussion that she approached us completely unnoticed. I stood up and took a couple of steps in her direction.
"Are you sure? Are you sure you're ready?" I asked her in a small voice.
"It's fine, Sam. I'll manage," she turned toward the rest of the gathering. "Who is going to help me with the sketch? I'm bad at drawing."
"Come with me," said Rettle.
Having spoken for the first time at this meeting, he stood up and pointed in the direction of the basement. "So he's an artist, too?" I thought in astonishment. "Can he also make origami cranes and grow dwarf trees?"
"Great. Let's get down to business, everyone," uncle Mike slammed his hand on the table and also got up from his chair.
After the others got up from the table Uncle put his hand on my shoulder.
"You and I have an important business to attend to. Let's go break some law!"
"What? Where? Break how?"
"We are going to break into the head office of Blood Inc. in Chicago. Remember I talked about trying to hack them and find the invoices for the batch of blood we've found in that house?"
I nodded.
"Well, I failed. These guys are not idiots. With remote access, we can get only insignificant things such as a shipment schedule, but to get to know what was shipped and where, we need to access the network through one of the terminals in the company's office."
"I see. Is everyone going?"
"No. It's not a combat operation, more like a spy mission of a Splinter Cell nature. The crucial element is to avoid all kinds of attention."
"Are we at least taking Stoker with us? He is the master of breaking and entering."
"No, it's just us. I've cased the building – all locks are electronic. I know that stuff just as well as Edgar."
"But why me?"
"Because I need a second hacker, and you are better at that than everyone else."
"Really?"
"Of course. You are a Masters, after all."
ns 15.158.61.36da2