In the early 1600s, Barwicke Brannon and his wife, Nicholina, gave birth to a child on a ship bound for the New World-only to see the child fall ill and its illness spread. In order to save the remaining lives onboard, the child had to be sacrificed to the sea. Barwicke agreed, but he did not realize that as the baby drowned, so would his wife, as she threw herself overboard. So began the Brannon obsession with purity and a lack of genetic defect.

Centuries later, Thomas Brannon is part of the Caltech graduating class of 1955 and has been schooled in the family history well. According to the Brannons, death is sometimes necessary to ensure the survival of the human race. Riff raff are to be disposed of, while intelligence, beauty, and health are to be revered. It is an easy sell to his intellectually advanced classmates, and together they make a plan that, in time, would rule the nation.

Soon, a secret society arises-a society who uses kidnapping and rape to produce the perfect race of mankind. Now the breeding season is upon them, and years of research and surveillance are about to pay off. They will manipulate the population and the gene pool of the United States- until an escape threatens to reveal their odious plan and end a four-hundred-year fight for purity.

The Righteous Enemy

By Loryn Kramer

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Loryn Kramer
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-2777-1

Chapter One

Caltech's graduating class of 1955 provided the world with hundreds of brilliant men. While other Caltech students studied alone, this group of men always studied together. In the basement of a house that once served as a fraternity, five men studied for their nuclear astrophysics final. They would graduate from Caltech in less than three weeks, and they had already secured jobs, all except for Warren Richards, who would continue his education in medical school. After medical school, Warren would join a private practice back in Boston. Toi Yoshida, who arrived at Caltech on the prestigious and much-desired student visa, would return to Tokyo to work with his father in the family's textile business. Thomas Brannon would join his father at Brannon Pharmaceuticals, which had operated as Brannon Medical until recently. Joseph Prosterman planned to join his uncle's legal practice. Calvin Edwards was undecided about his future, but he believed it would involve chemical engineering.

The day had been long, and the five students were exhausted. They had taken a break from their studies long enough to enjoy a snack and give their bodies a much-needed rest. On the small television before them, a news reporter talked of the popular polio vaccine and the number of inoculations already given in the United Kingdom.

"My dad thinks the polio vaccine is a hoax. He calls it population control. The average person would trust anything the government called a vaccine." Thomas was aware that on this date, May 5, 1955, over 500,000 people in the UK were receiving the polio vaccine. He also knew that millions more were expected to receive the vaccine once it was available.

"My father believes it's a conspiracy to rid the world of undesirables. You better avoid the vaccine, Joseph." Warren laughed. He would never admit he thought population control was nothing more than ludicrous.

"Funny, my friend. You will hire me someday, and just so you are aware, my fee will double when it comes to bailing your ass out of jail." Joseph threw a tattered sofa pillow at his friend.

"What do you think, Toi-Toi?" Thomas was curious about Toi's thoughts.

"My father married my mother because he believed she was a rarity. He calls her his gem. Both of my parents are over five-eight—an unusual height in Japan. He thought they would produce tall children. My father is a wise man."

Toi topped off at almost five feet nine inches tall, and his brother was only slightly taller. "He wanted to make a change. He thought if the Japanese were going to succeed and be respected all over the world, we needed to be stronger. There is no harm in manipulating the gene pool."

"I think we're going to find that millions of people won't be able to tolerate the polio vaccine and money will be wasted. The vaccine will leave thousands of people, indigents included, disabled or challenged—maybe even dead. This will cost our country more money. It's that way with any new drug." Thomas had heard his father say this so many times that it was easy for him to quote.

"Personally, I think we should rid the world of the riffraff. Our own melting pot overflows with people who serve no purpose other than to suck from our wealth and dedicated work ethic." Calvin, whose bombastic father was a member of the United States Security Council, often spoke of the indigents who demanded the U.S. use its hard-earned money to provide for them. Like Thomas, Calvin repeated the words he had heard his own father speak.

With his strong and wide shoulders pushed forward, Thomas leaned into the group as though he had a secret to share. "Gentlemen, I think if we put our heads together, along with our contacts and our money, we can do the job. The five of us in this room have all we need to make a change. We have doctors, lawyers, access to the FDA, and government contacts. Toi-Toi, I am sure we can find a way for you to contribute. In fact, you can help us make a better and more sophisticated and respected Japanese population in the U.S." Thomas was seated on the edge of his worn chair, excited at the thought of making a difference in the world. Only recently, he had engaged in this same conversation with his father.

The five men talked of the many prisoners on death row and the rise in the current jail population, knowing that in the years to come, the number of inmates would triple. As their conversation continued, they were in agreement that all inmates should be sterilized. It would take a lot of work, but they believed they, with the help of others like them, could weed out the bad seeds and clean up society.

A few hours later, these five young men had pledged to work together and to keep this between themselves. It was understood that their plan was not to be discussed with anyone, not even family—that time would come later. The first plan of action was to marry-up. Improving the gene pool started at home. Before heading back to their separate rooms, it was agreed they would meet in one month to put their scheme in place.

None of the five men shared with the others that they were aware of their own father's work and dedication. In their own homes and upbringing, the seeds for change had been planted long ago. This day was destined to occur. Their acceptance and arrival at Caltech had been arranged years before. Their personal involvement in perfecting the gene pool had been discussed by ancestors who had long ago passed away.

Chapter Two

Planning a meeting in a public venue was risky, but they knew they would go unnoticed here in the bustling resort. The luxury hotel in sunny Florida was framed with countless Queen Palm trees standing tall and majestic. The hotel lobby was filled with tourists who hadn't packed for the arrival of unseasonably cool temperatures. Only the week before, the local weatherman had mistakenly promised sweltering temperatures and the possibility of a heat advisory. It was the winter holiday for most private schools, and overly stressed parents were busy and easily distracted by children running out of control. It was painfully obvious that the harried parents weren't enjoying their vacation and would need another one once their children were back in school. Men in button-down shirts and khaki pants blended in with the crowd; holding a camera and a water bottle made one invisible.

For the members, the busy hotel was ideal. A room had been obtained and the security team had swept the room, giving the board the predetermined all-clear signal. To any other hotel guests who passed the room, the newspaper in front of the door indicated the guest was either away or sleeping in after a late night. To the members, it meant the room had been vacated by its previous guests and was now safe for their gathering. As a safety precaution, the rooms on either side of this room were intentionally occupied. The room to the left was perfect for the father pretending to be in Orlando for the weekend to visit his children, who lived in the city with their mother. Upon his arrival, he had explained that because of his costly divorce, he was forced to pay cash for the room. He further explained to the hotel clerk that obtaining a credit card was on his bucket list. Accepting a cash payment was against the hotel's policy, but the young desk clerk had taken pity on him. She agreed with him when he complained that his ex-wife was awful. The clerk had flirted with the man, and as a hotel courtesy, she had taken fifteen percent off the cost of his room. She had also given him her business card along with her cell phone number.

The room to the right was the weekend crash-pad of three fraternity brothers who announced to anyone within earshot that they had come to Orlando for the weekend in search of jobs. They used a pre-paid disposable debit card to pay for the room. As previously instructed, these three men demonstrated their high-five skills in the hotel lobby when they checked out Sunday afternoon. The debit card had been cut into ten small pieces; each piece was individually flushed in the hotel's wall-hung designer toilet. Their instructions were to press the toilet's wall-mounted push-button trip lever twelve times when disposing of the debit card.

The divorced father stood near the three-tiered fountain in the hotel lobby as he snapped candid pictures. His camera was of mediocre quality and, unbeknown to the guests near him, without film. He pretended to struggle with the flash while snapping a few more photos before continuing on his way. Through his camera lens, he watched as the members entered the elevators. As instructed, each member waited to enter the elevator when they were certain they would ride the stainless steel, mirrored, custom eight-by-eight cubicle alone. Three consecutive flashes from the camera indicated that all members were en route. A fourth and final flash indicated they hadn't been followed.

Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to the situation by requesting twelve individual room keys, a member waited in the meeting room and opened the door only if the face through the spy hole was known to him.

Once the members were present, the chairman followed protocol as he opened the meeting. Although the meeting was a celebration, there were no balloons, and champagne was not poured into crystal flutes. With the attention of all those present focused on him, the chairman advised his team that the releases would soon begin and another successful season would soon come to a close. With great enthusiasm, he commended the board members on their actions and selections, and while surrounded with great, unrestricted energy, he briefly discussed improved policies to be implemented immediately upon their approval.

Within hours, the Standard Operating Procedures included the necessary language to protect against and prepare for possible weak links and the risk of exposure. It was ordered that all computer hard drives be immediately acquired and destroyed. Firewalls had been a success, but computer hackers, including those who sat at home behind their self-assembled Ikea desks, were getting smarter. The risk of a hacker was not one they could afford. The zero-tolerance policy they had accepted and incorporated the previous year had been successful. Collaborative actions were easily put into place. The members were to advise their key players of possible risks and to encourage their teams to use their various skills to micromanage the unpredictable. They were to remind their teams to discourage situations that could lead to temptation. It was also necessary to advise and remind their teams that a third party reported any and all suspicious behavior to the appropriate team. Their teams were not to forget that big brother was always watching.

Satisfied that the gathering had served its purpose, the chairman adjourned the meeting. Just as they had entered the hotel, the members separated and exited by the way of the elevator, one at a time.

Chapter Three

With the bright winter sky overhead, Amanda walked along the water's edge. Her eyes were sensitive to the sun, and the constant bite of cold air burned her face. After three days of hiding behind dull gray clouds, the sun had finally made its appearance. The blue sky was vast and endless. The day wasn't like any other day she had known, not just with the snow and the sun, but how she felt about the cold air and the white crystal ground that surrounded her. Today was different. Amanda was different. The cool temperature and the dry air were gifts she welcomed and appreciated. Unable to explain or understand her feelings, she only knew she was supposed to enjoy and embrace everything around her. Reaching with her right hand, she gently scooped a handful of the delicate white crystals and watched as the wind blew the small flakes from her camel-colored mitten. Unaware of her dazed state, she stopped to look at her mittens. The color was a surprise. She wondered why she had bought them. Camel had never been her favorite color choice. She thought she would most likely have purchased pink or white.

Amanda believed she had always loved winter. Everything about the cold temperatures and crisp air was pure and clean. Again, she reached for a handful of snow, but this time she removed her mitten and blew the snow from her bare hand. She was warm in her belted coat; its upturned collar protected her neck from the cold breeze. Wearing earmuffs had been a wise decision. The fleece-lined boots kept her feet toasty warm. After taking a minute to admire the perfectly laced shoestrings in her leather boots, she continued along the embankment.

With an admiring glance, she noticed that the lake was partially frozen. Large chunks of ice floated about without a care in the world. For a moment, Amanda wished she could float like that. She giggled when she realized that this was how she felt about her own life. She understood, though, that with one missed step she would fall into the freezing water. Self-assured, she thought she would be fine if she were to fall in. After all, she was a strong swimmer. She had swum on her college team, excelling in the breaststroke. Feeling dazed and confused, she thought perhaps it had been the butterfly stroke. With a gentle laugh, she was convinced that she must be suffering from brain freeze. She was almost certain it was the butterfly stroke that had landed her a college scholarship. She struggled to recall the name of the university, but she knew its name would soon come to her.

Ahead of her, she noticed trees lying bent over the embankment, their weak branches and struggling bark heavy with snow and ice. Would she have to walk up onto private property or could she scoop the snow aside, making certain she had dry footing under her?

When she came to the trees, she hesitated. With several kicks, she pushed the snow aside and watched the delicate crystals melt as they hit the water. Relieved to find that there was enough ground to walk on along the embankment, she walked on knowing that she wouldn't mess up the untouched snow in someone's yard. She stretched to reach a branch, hoping it would offer the support she needed as she made her way around the trees. Once she was back on solid ground, she noticed several small wreaths. Each had been decorated with tiny red bows and gold garland. Amanda wondered if she was looking at a pet cemetery. She counted seven wreaths the size of Christmas tree ornaments. Next to the wreaths were small tiles.

In slow motion, Amanda looked back at the lake. She counted six houses, noticing that the backside of each one faced the water. She believed the houses were on a cul-de-sac. Smoke rose from each chimney, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed this neighborhood before. Surely she must have driven by here as she was either coming or going from her home. Amanda glanced back at the path she had made. Grateful that the snow had let up, she worried that her tracks might already be buried under the snow.

When she reached for the hand-painted tiles, she noticed that her mittens looked old and faded, the yarn was pulled and worn, and there was a red spot on the very tip of her mitten near her fingertip. She removed her mitten, only to find that she had unknowingly pricked her finger on the brittle tree branches when she had maneuvered around the embankment. Amanda quickly placed the mitten back on her hand. The warmth was comforting. Thinking of her own childhood and the many winters she had played in newly fallen snow brought a smile to her face.

Like her mitten, the painted tile was faded. Through the smeared and faded colors, it appeared a name had once been painted on it, but now it was impossible to read. It was easy to assume that the tiles hadn't been protected from the harsh winter weather and perhaps had also been damaged by the unforgiving heat of the summer's sun. Amanda moved on to the next tile. Although this one was a bit clearer, she was still unable to read it.

Looking up into the yard, her eyes fell on a knee-high wall made from uneven and colored stones. The wall appeared to be on a small bluff, but because it was covered with snow, it was hard to be certain. Lined up on the wall were rusty urns, each one placed an equal distance apart. She was curious about the urns, but instead reached for the next tile. She stopped when she heard what sounded like a slamming door. When she looked up at the house, she was startled to find a man in a blue pullover and dark jeans walking toward her. For a moment, she thought he looked familiar. Amanda was surprised that he wasn't wearing shoes. Remembering just seconds ago when she removed her mitten that her hand was so cold, she imagined his feet must be freezing. The man stopped at the edge of his patio.

"Those old weathered wreaths help us find the pet cemetery. With all the snow we get in this part of the country, we lose sight of it when winter arrives. My children painted those old tiles."

"I've never seen so much snow. Will spring ever arrive?" Amanda glanced around the property. "I'm sorry for intruding. I was drawn in by the tiles." Feeling the need to explain her presence, she paused before continuing, "I live nearby. I stopped only out of curiosity." Amanda swept her hair away from her face.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Righteous Enemyby Loryn Kramer Copyright © 2012 by Loryn Kramer. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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