The crowd was gathering early. The parking lot of Baldwin’s Funeral Home was quickly filling up with well-kept late model European sedans all parked carefully within the white lines.
Anyone driving home down Parham Road from the office or the local Martin’s grocery store that night would have thought someone important must have died. The reverence of the gathering said it was a prominent business owner who was well respected by everyone who worked for him or at least someone who was still feared, even in death.
But no one was there to honor the dead. The funeral home was being used as the perfect cover for an impromptu large meeting. The leaders of Management knew no one ever looked too closely as they sped by out of respect for the grieving.
The sky was cooperating with the mood and was gray and overcast as the sun slowly set over the wealthy suburb. There was a wet chill in the air that made everyone want to draw the collar of their coat closer and walk a little quicker toward their destination.
Somber men and women were quietly walking toward the building. The loudest noise was the rhythmic shuffle of their heels along the blacktop. Everyone was dressed in conservative southern business attire topped with dark overcoats.
A few of the men greeted each other with a nod or mouthed hello but no one spoke.
The dark grey or blue suits were standard issue for the chosen so that they would always blend into any group. Hair was always above the collar for men and a shoulder length bob for the women. Each town had their own version of what was acceptable and everyone followed the specifications. Outsiders noticed the herd mentality and pegged it to wanting to fit in and not rock the boat. Members everywhere had been taught from an early age that odd or poor grooming could be a distraction to the work at hand and make someone too memorable. The point wasn’t to stand out and be remembered, it was to get the job done and go back to the easier routines of life. Standards made everything easier.
After all, rule number one was that the principles of the organization mattered more than any handful of personalities and individual expression was to be sacrificed for the common good.
As the men and women entered the building they quickly handed their coats over to the two men who greeted them with a short set of instructions and handed back a ticket stub to retrieve their belongings later. It was only then that the small lapel pin became visible across the sea of bodies, dotting the left side of every jacket. A small round pin of an American flag against a white enamel background trimmed in gold leaf. It was the passport into the cavernous room and made each member recognizable anywhere in the world as a fellow traveler. Every country had their own version of the pin with their own national flag. Only one small company run by Management made the pins. It was a necessary precaution in order to control who received the gold-enameled marker.
Regular meetings were held at the beginning of every quarter in different funeral homes around town. Members were called together to keep everyone on track with the same message. But this one was quickly put on the calendar and held more importance than usual to the local leaders. Things were starting to appear too lax in the Richmond delegation and a few recent and unfortunate incidents had made plans vulnerable to being detected. That could not be tolerated.
Richard Bach stood just outside the doors that lead to the small stage in the sanctuary. He was glancing in to take note of who had already arrived and settled into the first rows of seats as he straightened the cufflinks on his shirt with the familiar symbol of small flags. Their abundance on his lapel and at his wrists denoted to anyone that Richard was a vice president in a local group. Someone who could make things happen without having to always check with anyone else.
The American public knew the covert society called Management vaguely as the Stewards. It had its roots somewhere in Europe back in the late 1600’s but its real origins were largely forgotten. Their model of a new society traveled to the United States when democracy was an idea that looked like it might actually take root. Older monarchies realized that the era of reigning over their flocks as they had ordained was coming to an end and to survive they would have to adapt. Louis XVI resisted the growing idea and tried to plot against the organizers.