Michael Kaersvang hated St. Petersburg, “Venice of the North Indeed” he grumbled, as he always did when summoned here by his controllers. It was bitterly cold in St. Petersburg as usual, and Michael hurried to the nondescript hotel bar the meetings were usually held in. As usual the lighting was very poor once he entered the bar. His eyes adjusted and he found his contact in his customary booth in the back.
“Lucius, is it at all possible for you to find a more dreary table?”
“Probably.” The deep, gravelly voice, from the shadowed form, even deeper in the shadows replied.
Lucius had been his contact for the last fifteen years, from right after he left University, and the entire time he had been working at the U.N. In all that time he had never actually seen Lucius, only his shadowy form in the back of this same booth, and the same voice coming from the darkness.
“You’ve found them? You must have, you’re entirely too snide today not to have Michael.”
Michael couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Yes! I have. The whole family, I have DNA proof on every one. Including, those that have married in and some of the off shoot branches of the fam...”
“They don’t matter.” His contact interrupted. “The Masters only care about the main line, the Truebloods, not the crap they chose to mate with on this miserable rock!”
Michael frowned at being interrupted, "Regardless Lucius, I've uploaded the information to your server. Names, last known locations, and the DNA tracking information."
"No, implant signals?"
"No, they must never use them, I've never seen even a whisper."
"Very well Michael. When the attack begins it will be harder to lock onto them, but collateral damage isn't really an issue. You will be given instructions soon for the preparations you need to make before the attack."
Michael was positively dancing in his seat with glee. "Of course! Whatever is needed to finally get this planet on the right track. All these poor excuses for governments can finally be brushed aside and replaced with a single world government!" Michael turned to the bar and yelled for wine. "It's time to celebrate!"
The figure in the corner watched his companion and muttered to himself. "Slaves don't have a need for governments, or celebrations."