Masked Conspiracy

By E.C. Fisher

A trip back home to New York turns into something more heinous than Noah Knolls could have imagined. Attacked by strange men upon arrival at the airport, he escapes with aid from his long-lost father's old friend, Walter.

Together the pair learns of an ancient sect that has kidnapped his mother. Using information and a key passed to him from his father they enter the secret temple.

Noah and Walter enter a world far darker than even of them imagined. A tense race against persistent pursuers leads them through the dark streets. A conspiracy that has been going on for decades is about to be unmasked, with Noah right in the center of it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.C. Fisher
• Release date: Dec 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393208952

E.C. Fisher

E.C. Fisher is an emerging author who was born in Vandenberg, AFB, California. Currently, he happily writes and resides in Florida. From 2007 to 2011, he proudly served in the United States Marine Corps. Three years ago, he was introduced to the writing world after a bout of inspiration drove him to write his very first story. After sharing his work with several people and receiving favorable feedback, he decided to continue treading on the creative path of storytelling. When he doesn’t have a pen in hand, you can find him at the bowling alley getting strikes or at home reading fantastical books.

Book preview

Prologue

Approximately seven years ago

The ringing of his cell phone stirred the old man awake. Still disoriented, he felt for his phone on the nearby nightstand. His hand clasped the phone and without looking at the display, he answered the call.

This had better be important. I was in the middle of a fantastic dream, his groggy voice hollered through the phone.

Auspex Prime, Grand Sentinel is dead. He didn’t complete his assignment. There isn’t much time before the ritual. This is an emergency beyond measure! a frantic male voice exclaimed.

Calm down. Losing your composure isn’t going to help matters, he replied. He waited for the voice on the other end to take a few deep breaths before continuing. Now, explain to me what happened. How did Grand Sentinel die?

He suffered a massive heart attack in the middle of his assignment. He activated his beacon beforehand but when backup arrived, he was already gone. We cleaned up the site but his target escaped. Without her, the ritual isn’t going to be completed.

This has been going on for decades. It’s not about to fall apart on my watch. Has the council convened?

Everyone is on standby. Would you like to be connected with them?

Do it. He heard the call connect. It seems we are coming together over a sad moment but we’ll get into those details later. The matter at hand is figuring out who is going to replace our Grand Sentinel.

Auspex Prime, we’ve discussed the matter and believe we have an exceptional candidate ready to take the reins, a male voice responded.

Give it to me.

Logan Knolls.

Hmm… He thought for a moment, rubbing his throbbing forehead. I don’t see a problem with that. Inform him. Do it gently. It was his father who just passed.

As you wish, Auspex Prime, a chorus of voices answered before the line disconnected.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he set the phone on the nightstand. The display on the illuminated clock showed 3:15 AM. With a low groan, he rubbed the exhaustion from his face and fought the protests from his stiff body as he strolled to the bathroom.

He pushed the door closed, leaving a crack before flicking on the light and then looked at his reflection. His weary eyes and grey grizzly face stared back at him. A pair of plastic cups sat beside the sink. He picked up the light blue one, filled it half full with water from the faucet and took a long swig, swishing it around and spitting it into the sink.

Maybe this is a sign for the end of things. He sighed deeply. A curse hangs over us. He laughed at his comment. Can I really be the one to just ... end it?

He shook his head to clear his doubts. "No. I’ll forge ahead. The seventh girl will be brought before us. The ritual will be completed. No matter what."

Smiling to reaffirm his resolve before setting the glass down, he turned the light off, and got back into bed. His dream wasn’t as enjoyable this time around.

Logan was deep in slumber when his cell phone vibrated beside him. He groaned as he reached for it. His sleeping wife moaned, turning over and snuggling into her pillow. He glanced at her before answering the call.

Hello, he whispered.

Mr. Knolls. You’re being called in. Report to the designated location to receive your briefing notice, a recorded message played and cut abruptly.

He stared at the phone a moment, stunned by the suddenness of the call. He glanced over his shoulder at his wife’s back, leaned in, and kissed her cheek before leaving the bed. He dressed quickly in the dark and exited his bedroom.

As he tiptoed down the hall, he noticed a sliver of light peeking through the space between the door and frame and stopped. He gradually opened the door until the visage of his son’s face came into view. He paused a moment, admiring the sleeping boy before softly closing the door.

He left his apartment and headed to the parking garage toward his dark sedan. He drove the empty streets and highway for thirty minutes to an abandoned factory. Pulling alongside the perimeter fence, he turned his headlights off and sat in his idling car.

Twenty minutes later, an SUV pulled up with its headlights off. Logan exited his vehicle and approached. The passenger side window rolled down and a manila folder was passed through it. He took it, flipping it over and opening it, and then withdrew a single piece of paper with a description written on it. He examined it.

I’m looking for a woman matching these traits.

No questions.

A black bag was thrust out of the window. Logan snatched it as the SUV sped off.

He shook his head as he set it down on the gravel to look over the contents. Inside was a folded black cloak with a white mask sitting on top, along with a folded piece of paper. He picked up the sheet of paper.

His eyes filled with tears as he read his father had passed away from a heart attack. He held them back, sticking the paper back into the bag before zipping it shut and tossing it in the passenger's seat before driving off.

He had a task to complete; tears would come later. He was now the Grand Sentinel and he was being called upon.

Three hours later

Logan had been cruising the slums for a woman fitting the description he had been given. He had seen many who came close to fitting the bill but were the wrong hair color or age. He rode with the radio on a talk show; the voices helped him from thinking about his father.

It took two rings before he noticed; the radio console displayed a call from home. He clicked the Accept Call button on his steering wheel and answered as the call connected.

Good morning, darling. He forced a smile, attempting to sound cheery.

Good morning. Where are you? Joan inquired.

Sorry. I skipped out on you. I received some dreadful news. My father … died.

His voice caught in his throat as he told her. Even if he was lying to her, it was still true.

What … I’m so sorry. Where are you? Noah and I will—

No. Noah has school and you’ve got work. Besides, I don’t want him to see me like this.

How did it happen?

Heart attack.

When do you think you’ll be home?

As long as it takes to go over his will and everything.

Logan scanned the streets as he talked with his wife. As the car passed an alleyway, he caught a glimpse of the woman he’d been searching for. He slowed and then stopped before reversing and pulling into the alleyway.

Dear, I’ll talk with you later. I need to get back to—

I understand. I love you.

Love you too, he replied ending the call.

She was squatting against the side of the left building, huddled in a dingy, moth eaten red hoodie. Her head was tucked into her knees as her ragged, mangy, blond hair fell out of the hood. Her hands and feet were filthy and covered in dirt. Logan pulled the car beside her as his window came down. He stopped the car and stuck his head out of the window.

Miss, miss? he repeated a few times trying to get her attention.

After a few attempts, her head lifted and she peered up at him. Her face was dirty with streaks left from fallen tears that left her ocean blue eyes red and swollen. She had a bruised right eye which was still in the process of healing. Her lips were cracked and split open.

The woman’s voice was weak and ragged as she spoke. "What do you want? Look somewhere else… I don’t do that." She rested her head back into her