Date: August 6–7, 2005

  Location: Seattle

  On August 6, 2005, Seattle enjoyed a pleasant 73°F, a soft breeze carrying the salty scent of Puget Sound into Capitol Hill. This bohemian enclave pulsed with a lively Saturday energy, its vintage brick buildings nestled against trendy cafes and galleries. In 2005, Capitol Hill was a cornerstone of Seattle’s alternative culture—Espresso Vivace cafe buzzed with artists in worn jeans and musicians with guitars, chatting about new albums or exhibitions. But caution was warranted—the Seattle Police Department reported 190 petty thefts in the area that year, keeping locals on their toes.

  James Crowe sat in his Broadway office, a cozy second-floor nook in an aging building that carried the faint scent of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee. The 38-year-old private detective’s space was his sanctuary: a weathered wooden desk piled with folders, pencils, and documents; a corkboard adorned with photos and notes; and a coffee maker humming as it prepared another batch. A world map on the wall bore red marks in London, Paris, Chicago, Portland, and New York, alongside a faded 1985 photo of a teenage Crowe with his father, taken when he was 18. Through the window, Broadway unfolded: a 30-year-old woman in a sundress walked a golden retriever, while a 20-year-old in shorts weaved through pedestrians on a skateboard.

  Crowe sat at his desk, reviewing his notes on the Family’s “genetic planner,” compiled from his recent discoveries. His Moleskine notebook lay open, key details circled in red marker: “heredity planner,” “mind specialists,” “adoption of gifted children.” After tracing the Family’s genetic planning back to the 1790s, Crowe aimed to find a living member who had been adopted as a child. Using his “chain of connections” technique, he linked archival data to the present. A 1980s New York report from the Seattle Public Library mentioned the “Starlight Foundation”—the modern name for the Brotherhood of Starlight—adopting five children from a Manhattan orphanage. One, a girl named Eliza born in 1975, married a Family member in 1995 and later moved to Seattle.

  Crowe tracked Eliza down through a local resident database, accessed via his friend, 42-year-old detective Michael Reed at the Seattle Police Department. Now 30 in 2005, Eliza Morgan worked as a psychologist at a private clinic in Capitol Hill. Crowe called her, introducing himself as a private detective investigating the Starlight Foundation, and requested a meeting. Eliza agreed, though her voice carried a note of wariness.

  They met at Espresso Vivace on Broadway, a few blocks from Crowe’s office. The cafe was a warm, inviting space with wooden tables, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and walls adorned with paintings by local artists. Crowe sat by the window, cradling an espresso, when Eliza approached. At 30, she had long chestnut hair tied in a ponytail and piercing blue eyes that seemed too intense for her calm expression. Dressed in a white blouse and jeans, she carried a bag, her movements confident but betrayed by a slight tremor in her fingers as she sat across from him.

  “You’re Mr. Crowe?” Eliza asked, her voice soft but cautious.

  “Yes,” Crowe replied, offering a smile to ease the tension. “Thanks for meeting me. I’m investigating the Starlight Foundation, and I think you might be able to help.”

  Eliza nodded, her gaze cooling. “I’m not sure I can help. I was adopted by them when I was 2, but I don’t know much about their activities. I just live my life.”

  Crowe applied his “Mirror Game” method to analyze her behavior. She avoided eye contact when mentioning the Starlight Foundation, and her fingers gripped her bag’s strap tightly—signs of anxiety. Crowe realized she knew more than she was letting on. He used a “soft pressure” technique, asking seemingly innocent questions to encourage her to open up.

  “I understand,” Crowe said, his tone calm but empathetic. “But I’ve learned the Starlight Foundation has a long history of selecting children for their purposes—healthy, gifted, attractive kids to marry into their family. Have you ever heard about that?”

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  Eliza froze, her eyes widening briefly before she regained composure. “I… I’m not sure,” she replied, her voice quieter. “I was adopted so young. My parents—my adoptive parents—always said I was ‘special.’ But I didn’t know what that meant until I was older.”

  Crowe noted the pause when she said “parents,” as if the word felt unnatural. He pressed further. “Eliza, I know the Starlight Foundation used psychologists they called ‘mind specialists’ to evaluate children—testing for giftedness, emotional stability, even appearance. You’re a psychologist yourself, right? Did you ever notice anything unusual in your childhood—like strange tests?”

  Eliza’s lips tightened, her fingers gripping the strap harder. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke, her voice low and tense. “When I was 5, they took me to a man. He was… odd. Cold stare, asked a lot of questions—how I felt seeing different colors, how fast I could solve a puzzle. He measured my hands, legs, even the shape of my face. My parents said it was ‘for my benefit,’ but I always felt it was something more.”

  Crowe scribbled her words, his pulse quickening. This was direct evidence the Family continued its practices into the 20th century—Eliza had been tested by “mind specialists” to evaluate her potential as a future match. He pressed further. “Eliza, I know you married a man tied to the Starlight Foundation in 1995. Your husband, Daniel Morgan, was a member, wasn’t he? And I suspect your marriage was… arranged.”

  Eliza’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing with anger and fear. “How do you know that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Yes, Daniel was part of the Starlight Foundation. But I didn’t know that when we met. My parents arranged our meeting, said Daniel was the ‘perfect partner.’ I didn’t suspect anything until I noticed strange things—my parents always knew what I was doing, even when I didn’t tell them. Daniel got letters from the ‘foundation’ he hid from me.”

  Crowe nodded, his mind racing. Eliza was a product of the Family’s genetic planning: selected as a child, raised in a “temporary family,” and married to Daniel to ensure genetic diversity. Her words suggested she was beginning to suspect the truth, making her a potential ally. Crowe used his “emotional connection” method to build trust, showing he understood her feelings and was ready to help.

  “Eliza, I know what it’s like to learn your life was planned by someone else,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. “I’ve been investigating this organization for a year, and I know what they’re capable of. They’ve been manipulating people for centuries, using them for their own ends. But you can help me stop them. If you tell me more about your husband and the Starlight Foundation, I can figure out how they operate today.”

  Eliza fell silent, her eyes brimming with tears. She lowered her head, then spoke, her voice barely audible. “I… I’m not sure I’m ready. But I know something’s wrong. Last year, I found an old letter in Daniel’s things. It mentioned a ‘heredity planner’ who ordered our marriage. I started asking questions, but Daniel wouldn’t answer. And then… I started noticing I was being followed. I’m scared, Mr. Crowe.”

  Crowe nodded, his expression grave. Eliza was a key to the Family’s modern structure, but her fear indicated they were still active and dangerous—possibly aware of Crowe’s investigation. He handed her his business card with his phone number. “I understand your fear. But I can protect you. If you decide to talk, call me. We can do this on your terms.”

  Eliza took the card, her fingers trembling. She nodded, then quickly stood and left, leaving Crowe alone with his thoughts. He leaned back, rubbing his temples. The meeting had given him the first direct proof that the Family continued its genetic planning into the 20th century, their methods as cold and efficient as in the 18th century. The mention of a “heredity planner” in the letter tied directly to the historical practices he’d uncovered, and the sci-fi undertones of their ideology hinted at their broader ambitions—ambitions Crowe would later confront on Mars in 2025.

  “Well, looks like I just found living proof of their methods,” Crowe muttered with a self-deprecating smirk, sipping his now-cold espresso. “But if they’re following Eliza, they probably already know about me. Guess I’d better watch my back.”

  Back at his office, Crowe pinned his notes about Eliza to the corkboard, circling key details in red marker: “adoption in 1977,” “childhood tests,” “marriage to Daniel Morgan,” “letter about the planner.” Eliza could be his key to unraveling the Family’s modern structure, but her fear signaled greater dangers ahead—dangers that would eventually lead him to the Brotherhood of Starlight’s operations on Mars.

  In 2005, Seattle thrived: Microsoft prepared to launch the Xbox 360, and Pike Place Market celebrated another anniversary, drawing millions. But for Crowe, those were background notes—more mysteries awaited, and the stakes were higher than ever.