Page 60 of Broken Empire
She nodded, lips set in a grim line. “They’re trying to pre-emptively destroy you before you can do anything to screw them over. One of them just contacted me with a copy of the tape and asked me to air it. It’s making the rounds online, too. You’re trending on Twitter with the hashtag KillerKillian.”
“How original.”
“That’s not all.” Kendall lowered her voice. “The feds have seen the tape, and there’s a warrant out for your arrest.”
I let out a weary sigh and rubbed the side of my head. “Shit,” I muttered. “How long do you think I have before they show up here?”
Kendall lifted a palm. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Right now, no one knows you’re here except me and my team. Plus, the Schöneberg Group have no idea what’s about to hit them. If they did, they wouldn’t have tried to shop that tape to my network. They’d be fleeing instead.”
“Good point.”
“Anyway, I can hold the police off for a while. At least until our show has aired,” Kendall went on. “You’ll go down at some point, but all of those assholes will as well.”
“Thanks. You’re literally a lifesaver, Kendall.”
“Well, I kind of owe it to you, don’t I?” she said, arching her brows. “You just handed me and my network a golden goose egg.”
With that, she strode out of the room, clicking her fingers at a production assistant. Another assistant showed up a few seconds later to direct Shay into the studio. I followed them and found a spot behind the cameras on the other side of the room.
Shay sat behind a large semi-circular desk near the show’s presenter, a stoic-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair named Tom Mallory. Behind the desk, a giant HBC sign hung from the wall, along with a set picture of the New York skyline at night.
I caught Shay’s eye from across the room and dipped my chin in a reassuring nod. She smiled back at me and straightened her shoulders.
The show’s theme song began to play, and the producer counted down on her hand, going silent with the last three numbers.
“Welcome to The Current. I’m Tom Mallory,” Tom said, looking into the main camera with a polite smile. “Tonight, we’re joined by a very special guest whose face we can’t reveal just yet. I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re being coy and hiding her right now, but don’t worry—everything will be illuminated soon.” Tom paused for a beat and affected a more somber expression. “Here on The Current, we’ve exposed corrupt politicians, dangerous criminals, and crooked businessmen… but we’ve never had a story quite like this one. These men and women never, ever thought they’d get caught, and their fall from grace will be nothing short of nuclear.”
The cityscape image behind Tom’s head disappeared, and a stock photo of imposing figures in black hooded robes appeared in its place. The words ‘Schöneberg Group’ lay across the photo in bright white lettering.
“We’ve all heard of them before—the Schöneberg Group,” Tom went on. “When you think of that name, you probably recall some of the many rumors that have swirled around the organization since its inception in 1972. You think of wealthy statesmen, secret handshakes, and clandestine rituals. You think of powerful people secretly controlling our government from the shadows.” Tom paused as he switched his focus to a different camera. “Some of you may think these rumors are meaningless stories dreamed up by conspiracy theorists, while others may believe every word and think that our biggest institutions are secretly influenced by our country’s elite. Tonight, we will reveal the shocking truth to the world. I must warn you, though… this story may be triggering to some viewers.”
I smiled thinly at Tom’s last sentence. Telling viewers that a story might be triggering was a good way to ensure that as many people as possible tuned in to watch it. They would instantly be curious, wanting to know what could possibly be so terrible that the media would warn them off it.
The photo behind Tom’s head changed to a black and white photo of Robert Lind with a few associates outside the White House.
“One thing we all know to be true about the Schöneberg Group is that it is made up of rich, powerful Americans who meet regularly to discuss national and international affairs. We can also surmise that they probably use their great wealth and influence to steer certain aspects of those affairs in their favor, which means the so-called conspiracy theorists aren’t entirely wrong. But here’s a pertinent question you don’t often hear: where does the Schöneberg Group’s enormous wealth come from in the first place?” Tom paused for a beat and raised his brows. “Most would assume it comes from the Schöneberg Group members’ own bank accounts, immense as they are. Others may think that the organization makes its vast supply of capital via the stock market, seeing as every member has access to the very best market advisors. However, neither of those answers are accurate.” Tom paused again and set his face in a stony expression. “Earlier today, our executive producer received solid evidence which shows therealway this clandestine organization makes its money. Again, I must warn you—the truth is extremely disturbing.”
I glanced over at Shay as the image changed behind Tom’s head yet again. She was sitting with her back ramrod-straight, lips set in a hard line and hands clasped tightly on the desk in front of her. She looked ready for battle. Formidable and oh-so fucking sexy.
“Our guest will discuss the details with me in a moment, but firstly, here’s a brief summary for everyone,” Tom said. He narrowed his eyes slightly and went on. “The Schöneberg Group makes millions upon millions every year from human trafficking. Some of the victims are tortured and sexually assaulted on camera for live streaming on the dark web in spaces known as ‘red rooms’, while others are brutally murdered. The tapes of their deaths, known as snuff films or black tapes, are sold to sordid individuals who contact the Schöneberg Group via a deep-net website known as ‘The Meat Market’.” Tom paused and stared at the camera with a grim expression to let his words sink in. “On top of that, the only way to join the Schöneberg Group is to commit a murder on tape in order to gain the trust of the other members. These tapes are stored on a private server owned and operated by the Schöneberg Group, along with a list of the member’s names. Access to this particular file was provided to us by our source, and we’ve decided to make it available to the public. The link is right behind me.”
Tom fell silent for a beat as a website URL flashed behind his head in bright white lettering. The cameras changed again, slowly panning out to show Shay on the other side of the desk.
“Our guest tonight is Shay Sinclair,” Tom said, looking over at Shay. “Just a few weeks ago, she was a regular college student and aspiring actress… but then her life was turned upside-down. She was abducted by a member of the Schöneberg Group—who we can name as Robert Lind—and sold for $2.6 million to a Russian oligarch. She was tortured, sexually abused, and threatened with a violent death. In fact, her ‘black tape’ was supposed to be filmed yesterday, right here in New York. Her harrowing escape was only made possible by the heroic actions of her friend, whose name we have been asked not to reveal, and her boyfriend, who actually joined the Schöneberg Group in order to carry out the rescue mission. This boyfriend will be a familiar face to many of you—Killian Knight, twenty-two-year-old grandson of media mogul Raymond Knight. If any of you have been watching or reading other news sources tonight, you’ll know that the Schöneberg Group is already attempting to destroy Mr. Knight’s credibility in order to prevent him from sharing the truth. Unfortunately for them, we know the whole story here at The Current, and we intend to share it.”
A picture of me taken at Bellingham flashed on the screen behind Tom’s head as he spoke. It was followed by a picture from Shay’s acting portfolio, showing her smiling with her hands on her cheeks.
Tom turned to look at her. “Shay, thank you so much for joining us this evening. It must be incredibly difficult for you.”
Shay smiled faintly. “Thanks, Tom. I’m nervous—actually, I’m terrified—but I need to get the truth out there.”
“That’s exactly what we’ll be doing tonight,” Tom said. He leaned forward. “So, in your own words… what happened to you?”
Shay took a deep breath and began. “A couple of weeks ago, I visited an art gallery. While I was there, I ran into Robert.”
“That’s Robert Lind, the infamous political advisor,” Tom interjected, glancing at the camera as another photo of Robert appeared on the screen behind him. “Known as The Mastermind of DC.”
“That’s right.” Shay dipped her chin in a brief nod. “He’s my best friend’s stepfather, so I trusted him. I had no idea who he really was.”
