Fifteen Years Earlier - 2010 - CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Richard Ashworth IV had flown from London specifically for this meeting. The Senior Partner of Whitmore, Sterling & Associates had been preparing for this conversation for six months, ever since the latest "incident" in Moscow.
The Americans had laughed when Russia arrested their mutual client.
Russia had been furious.
And Perseus Jackson had walked out of Lubyanka Prison with a chess set and a caustic review of their facilities.
It was time, Richard decided, to establish some ground rules.
He sat in the conference room, reviewing his notes. Across from him: DNI James Cartwright (looking younger but just as tired), CIA Director Harrison Dilworth, and FBI Director Charles Cothran.
"Mr. Ashworth," Cartwright began, "thank you for coming all the way from London."
"Thank you for agreeing to meet," Richard replied in his crisp British accent. "Though I must say, this conversation is overdue by approximately sixty-three years."
"Since 1947?"
"Since you established Protocol Echelon, yes. My firm has been representing Mr. Jackson since 1678. We've developed certain... expectations about how these matters should be handled."
Cothran leaned forward. "Mr. Ashworth, we're still trying to understand the full scope of your client's situation. Our records suggest he's approximately 400 to 500 years old—"
"Four hundred and sixty-three years, if we take in account the fact that he was thirty-six when he got knighted," Richard corrected smoothly. "Though I would caution against assuming that's the full extent."
"You're saying he's older?" Dilworth asked.
"I'm saying my firm has represented him for 332 years, and he was already an individual with a certain longevity by then. But that's not why we're here." Richard pulled out a leather folder. "We're here to discuss boundaries."
"What kind of boundaries?" Cartwright asked.
"The kind that prevent embarrassing incidents like Moscow, 2009. Or Prague, 2003. Or that unfortunate business in Berlin, 1987." Richard opened the folder. "I've compiled a list of every time a government agency has detained, arrested, or otherwise interfered with my client in the past seventy years. It's seventeen pages long."
He slid copies across the table.
The directors stared at the list.
"Seventeen pages," Cothran said weakly.
"And that's just documented incidents. I suspect there are others my client chose not to report." Richard adjusted his glasses. "Gentlemen—my firm has spent 332 years managing Mr. Jackson's legal affairs. We handle his estate planning, his property transfers, his tax obligations, his identity transitions, and every other legal complexity that arises from extreme longevity. We're very good at our job."
"We don't doubt that," Cartwright said.
"Then let me be direct: Stop arresting our client."
"We have Echelon Protocol—" Cothran started.
"Which clearly isn't working," Richard interrupted, uncharacteristically sharp. "Protocol Echelon states Mr. Jackson should not be detained. Yet here we are, meeting because he was detained in Moscow last year. And Prague in 2003. And Berlin in 1987. The protocol exists, but compliance is inconsistent at best."
Dilworth shifted uncomfortably. "The issue is information sharing. Not all agencies know about Echelon. It's highly classified."
"Then declassify it. Or at minimum, ensure every agency that might encounter Mr. Jackson is properly briefed." Richard pulled out another document. "I've prepared a proposal. Clear boundaries between what my firm handles and what your protocols handle."
"Let's hear it," Cartwright said.
Richard referred to his notes. "Legal Matters: Whitmore, Sterling & Associates maintains exclusive authority over all legal affairs. This includes but is not limited to: estate planning, property management, tax filings, identity documentation, financial transactions, and any civil litigation. Your agencies will not interfere with these matters under any circumstances."
"Agreed," Cartwright said immediately.
"Security Matters: Protocol Echelon maintains authority over protection from arrest, detention, or interference by government agencies. This includes extraction protocols, international coordination, and ensuring Mr. Jackson's freedom of movement."
"That's already Echelon's purpose," Cothran noted.
"In theory. In practice, we've had seventeen pages of failures in seventy years." Richard looked at each of them. "I need your commitment that this will improve."
"We're working on better database systems—" Dilworth began.
"I don't want databases. I want consequences." Richard's tone was polite but firm. "When an agent arrests Mr. Jackson despite Echelon Protocol, what happens to that agent?"
Silence.
"Exactly. Nothing happens because the arrest is quietly handled, Mr. Jackson is extracted, and everyone pretends it didn't occur. I propose implementing actual consequences. Mandatory retraining at minimum. Disciplinary action for repeated violations."
"That's... actually reasonable," Cothran admitted.
"Financial Matters: This is where boundaries become crucial." Richard pulled out a detailed chart. "Mr. Jackson has investments dating back to the 1600s. Property holdings across four continents. Bank accounts in seventeen countries. His financial affairs are extraordinarily complex and entirely legal. Your agencies will occasionally encounter his financial footprint during investigations."
"We have," Cartwright confirmed. "Usually during money laundering investigations. The transaction patterns look suspicious."
"Because they span centuries, yes. I've prepared documentation that can be shared with appropriate authorities when questions arise. You provide this documentation, the investigation moves on, everyone's satisfied."
"You want us to vouch for his finances?" Dilworth asked.
"I want you to acknowledge that his finances, while unusual, have been thoroughly vetted by a 346-year-old law firm with an impeccable reputation. Yes, he has money in banks that are older than your country. Yes, his investment patterns are unusual. No, it's not money laundering. It's compound interest over 400-plus years."
Cothran was making notes. "This would actually help. We've had agents flag his accounts before."
"Precisely. Which leads to my next point: Privacy." Richard's expression became more serious. "Mr. Jackson values his privacy above almost everything else. He doesn't seek attention. He doesn't want recognition. He certainly doesn't want to be treated as a curiosity or a resource to be exploited."
"We're not exploiting him," Cartwright said.
"Aren't you? You have Protocol Echelon because he's useful. He has knowledge, skills, and experience you value. But that doesn't give you ownership of his life."
"We don't claim ownership—"
"Then prove it. Respect his boundaries. Don't surveil him unless there's genuine security need. Don't request his assistance unless absolutely necessary. Don't treat him as an asset to be managed. Treat him as a person who deserves autonomy."
The room was quiet.
"Mr. Ashworth," Cartwright said finally, "you're very protective of your client."
"My firm has represented him for 332 years. My great-great-grandfather represented him. My great-grandfather, my grandfather, my father, and now me. We've spent three centuries earning his trust. I take that responsibility seriously."
"How often do you see him?" Cothran asked curiously.
"Quarterly reviews, annually for major planning, and whenever issues arise. He's a remarkably low-maintenance client, all things considered. Pays his bills on time, follows our advice, and brings excellent biscuits to meetings."
Dilworth blinked. "Biscuits?"
"Cookies, in your parlance. Quite good ones." Richard smiled slightly. "He's a very considerate person, actually. Which is why these repeated arrests are so offensive. You're not arresting a threat. You're arresting someone who's been helping humanity for longer than any of us can properly comprehend."
"We know," Cartwright said quietly. "We know what he's done. The wars he's fought, the lives he's saved. That's why Echelon exists."
"Then make it work better." Richard pulled out a final document. "I've drafted a formal agreement. Boundaries between legal and security matters. Consequences for violations. Privacy protections. Information sharing protocols. If you sign this, we have a framework. If problems arise, we have a reference point."
He slid the document across the table.
Cartwright read it carefully. "This is very thorough."
"I've had 332 years of institutional knowledge to draw from. And I consulted with our partners in London, Paris, and Berlin. This represents consensus among the firms that handle similar matters for our collective client."
"Wait," Dilworth said. "He has multiple law firms?"
"He has Whitmore, Sterling & Associates as primary counsel. But for matters in other jurisdictions, we coordinate with local specialists. We all share certain standards regarding discretion and competence."
Cothran was reading the agreement. "This section about identity transitions—you handle those?"
"Every eighty to one hundred years, yes. New identity, full documentation, property transfers, financial account updates. It's quite involved."
"When's his next identity change?" Cartwright asked.
"Not for another thirty-seven years or so. He changed in 1947, shortly after you established Echelon. He'll likely change again around 2047."
Cartwright looked at his fellow directors. "Thoughts?"
"It's reasonable," Cothran said. "Clear boundaries would help prevent conflicts."
"The consequences provision is fair," Dilworth added. "We should enforce Echelon better."
"I agree," Cartwright said. He pulled out a pen. "Mr. Ashworth, on behalf of the US intelligence community, I accept these terms."
He signed.
Cothran and Dilworth signed as witnesses.
Richard signed for Whitmore, Sterling & Associates.
"There," Richard said, filing his copy. "Formal boundaries, established in writing. When problems arise—and they will—we have this agreement to reference."
"You sound certain problems will arise," Dilworth observed.
"Mr. Dilworth, I've represented this client for fifteen years personally, and my firm has represented him for 332 years. In that time, we've seen empires fall, wars reshape continents, and governments rise and fall. Through all of that, one constant remains: someone, somewhere, will eventually forget who he is and try to arrest him."
"And when that happens?"
"You extract him, we file the paperwork, and life continues. But with this agreement, we now have a framework for handling it professionally rather than reactively."
Cartwright stood and offered his hand. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Ashworth. This was... overdue."
Richard shook it. "Indeed it was. Though I'm glad we finally had the conversation."
As Richard gathered his materials, Cothran asked one more question: "Mr. Ashworth, may I ask—how does he seem to you? Your client. After all this time, how is he?"
Richard paused, considering. "Tired, I think. But resilient. He's seen more than we can imagine, lost more than we can comprehend. Yet he remains kind, considerate, and committed to doing good. He pays his bills, follows the law, and brings biscuits to meetings. As far as I'm concerned, that makes him an exemplary client and a good man."
"We'll do better by him," Cartwright promised.
"See that you do. Because if you don't, you'll answer to me. And I have 346 years of legal precedent at my disposal."