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“Whispers in the dark.”
Gandalf, The Fellowship of the Ring
“So, a guy gets killed,” said Kim, as she sat with
Marilyn in the small dorm room. “And then the guy who killed the guy gets
killed.”
“Right,” Marilyn said, half-dressed as she typed away
on her computer in the scalding heat of the small room. “And the guy who
got killed, not the first guy who got killed, but the second guy who got
killed, the guy who killed the first guy, looked like Malcolm.”
“Any idea who the second guy who got killed was?” Kim
asked, sitting back on Marilyn’s lower bunk, staring up at the bunk above
her. “I mean, it’s kind of freaky that the guy looked as much like Malcolm
as you say he did.”
“I’m not talking ‘like
him’,” Marilyn clarified, turning around in her chair, waving her hand as
the oscillating fan blew air in the other direction. “I mean, this guy was
a spitting image. I had to look really close to be able to tell.”
“Yeah, but Malcolm said you guys had gotten into a
fight,” Kim countered. “He said the bouncers came along and started, you
know, starting some stuff.”
“That’s their job, I suppose,” Marilyn shrugged,
thinking nothing of it. She turned back to her computer.
“Their job?” Kim said, rolling onto her side. She sat
up, looking at Marilyn as she typed. “Mar, those guys were working for the
club owner.”
“Yeah,” she nodded before glancing back at Kim. “So?”
“So,” Kim said, “they probably were also working at
that slavery ring-thingy. They were probably involved.”
“But then why kill him?” she asked, turning back.
“More money?” Kim shrugged.
“No,” Marilyn reasoned. “It would have been too
dangerous.” She casually glanced at the closed door and leaned forward.
“You can’t tell this to Victor or to Malcolm. Got it?” Kim’s eyes lit up.
She nodded furiously, a smile crossing her face. “I came across something
that might suggest that the club’s owner was involved with a secret
organization.”
“Like, the FBI?” she asked, delighted as she leaned
forward. “Like that?”
“No,” Marilyn said, her face deadly earnest. “Like,
the Illuminati.”
“The operation initially went off without a hitch,” Jericho reported as
he stood in the center of the black void. He could feel the vastness around
him, though he knew it was merely an illusion. “The owner of the club was
killed, as was the assassin. We successfully made him look like the target.
The problem occurred when the targets arrived at the scene of the crime and
were aided by two knights.”
“The knights,” said the third voice. “There are only
three in the city.”
“Apparently not,” Jericho said, his hands in his black jeans
pockets. “We know that one of the knights has retired. And one is still
active. The third has apparently disappeared off our radar almost a year
ago.”
“Which knight
disappeared?” asked the first voice.
“Morgan Brandywyne,” Jericho answered. “He’s all but dropped
out of the light. There’s no evidence to indicate that he’s still with the
knights, but he is still within the city.”
“Then that means there are two more knights however?
Correct?” asked the second voice.
“That’s correct,” Jericho said. “Two knights, Armand and
Roland.”
“Which were the two present?” Asked the second voice.
“Everett, the apparent leader of the knights, and
Armand, the newest knight.” Jericho
turned slightly in the darkness, as if addressing a different figure. “I
would like permission to retaliate. They interfered with our plans. We were
willing to sacrifice control of the club in order to have the leader of the
World Alliance removed from public. His apparent ‘murder’ of the club owner
would have gotten him arrested for certain. Now, however, his arrest would
be far to circumstantial, especially if the knights decided to come forward
in his defense.”
“To do so would open themselves up to incrimination,”
said the first voice. “Our foes in the US government have been
watching the knights, just as they have watched us. Such is why they have
not united in over fifty years.”
“Be that as it may,” Jericho said coldly, “something must be
done.”
“Worry not,” said the third voice. “We shall attend
to this matter yet. As for now, simply wait. The Brotherhood has survived
for centuries because of its patience. Against the Illuminati we have
survived, against the knights we have survived. Waiting a bit longer will
cost us nothing.”
“Did you see this?” Roland asked to Everett as the two sat on the subway,
their book bags sitting beside them. “Some bunch of yahoos knocked over a
construction site and stole a giant spool of copper.” The taller college
student turned to Everett,
a confused look on his face. “A spool of copper. What the hell were they
thinking?”
“I don’t know,” Everett
grumbled, rubbing his eyes, his exhaustion obvious. “I’m still trying to
get my mind around the club.”
“Yeah, Armand told me
about that,” Roland said, still reading the newspaper. “Told me that you
took that guy down pretty good.”
Everett
stiffened up at the comment and glanced around quickly. “Do you mind?” he
asked, looking harshly back at Roland. “Man, I don’t want this stuff
advertised.”
“Who’s in here to hear us?” Roland asked, not looking
up from the paper. “Answer? No one. So what happened?” He folded up the
paper and turned to Everett.
“Armand said there was a chick there. Did you get lucky?”
“No,” Everett
said, already annoyed with Roland’s brashness.
“Sheesh,” the other knight remarked, turning away.
“Why do I even bother with you?”
“Because I’m the only one in this damn outfit trying
to unify the knights,” Everett
said, glaring back at Roland. “If you’d actually contribute, rather than
spend all your time trying to get laid, you could really be a big asset.”
“I don’t ‘try’, my friend,” Roland said, going back
to the paper. “As for your information, the only assets I’m interested in
are the ones on this girl.” He opened up the paper for Everett to see. “Nice, ain’t she?”
Everett
glanced over and was startled when the girl caught his eye. “Yeah,” he
admitted, taken back. “Yeah, she is.”
“So what’s the next move?” Ruwani asked, glancing up
from her paper to Malcolm. “You got the club guy, right?”
“Has everyone heard about that?” Malcolm mumbled
under his breath, both working quickly to copy down the figures on the
board in the college classroom. On the fourth row of the thirty-five-row
room, they shared a clear view of the board. Of course, the teacher also
had a clear view of them.
“Well, you’re a hero,” Ruwani grinned playfully, her
black hair falling over to the other side of her head. “You went into the
lion’s den and all that. Everyone in the Alliance is really psyched now.”
“I guess that’s good,” he said quietly, less than
convinced. “It’s just…”
“It’s just what?” the dark-skinned girl asked.
“We’ve, I don’t know. Struck a blow for good and all that.”
“I don’t think it works like that, Ru,” Malcolm said,
putting his pencil down. He wasn’t finished, but he was done. “If what I’m
afraid of is true, then I think we might have a bigger problem.”
Morgan rolled the large sword over in his hands as he
stepped back. His body moved with rehearsed precision as he stepped, the
sword following a specific path through its world. Meanwhile, he focused.
He focused on the sword blade. He focused on his movements. He focused on
his actions. He focused on the motions.
He focused on the shooting.
The very thought of the club from the night before
still haunted him. And now, the problem still presented itself to him. Why
the double murder? Why did the first killer look like one of the
bystanders? But what bothered him even more were the other worries that
plagued him. Who had been the one to shoot the murderer? None of the
bouncers had guns, so it must have been some one else.
He cursed himself for his foolishness. He should have
been more careful. He should have paid closer attention. But the truth was,
it had all happened so fast, that there was no way he could have
anticipated everything.
The curved sword slide through the air with ease as
Morgan continued his dance. The blade of the sword cut the air as he
brought around his body in a dramatic finish, ending with the sword at his
side. In the late afternoon sun, Morgan stood in his backyard. Sunset was just
beginning and the shadows were growing long. But as he turned back to his
house, a worrisome thought rushed over him.
What were two different teams of knights doing at
that same club, at the same time, on the same night? And if two knights
were there, who were the three bystanders?
“How’s the project?” Ken asked, looking out over the
giant field. The yellow construction vehicles remained motionless in the
dim twilight. The distant buzzing of cicadas and other summer insects was
deafening, but neither of the two cared.
“Slowly,” Mint answered as she looked over the field
from the rock she sat on. The short, blonde woman looked out at the
vehicles with disdain. “The workers
are slow and half the materials haven’t even arrived yet. Which I guess
doesn’t matter, since the Miracle division has yet to get us plans for this
‘base’ thing.”
“It’s a bit more than a base,” Ken said with a
stylish laugh, squatting down next to the girl. “This is supposed to be our
retreat, you know. When we finally take them on.”
“Still seems a bit far-fetched,” she said, shrugging,
adjusting her overalls so they would rest more comfortably as she sat on
the rock. “The Brotherhood’s been preparing to take them on for almost
thirty years. Longer, if the Triumvirate is supposed to be taken at face
value.”
“Yeah, well,” Ken said, looking out at the giant
field. It ran right up to the sheer surface of the granite mountain. Grass
collided with rock beyond the initial dig. “I’m not saying they’re to be
taken at face value. But they’ve got some ambitious plans.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I’m an ambitious person and I
don’t want to be putting up with these local yahoos for nothing.”
“Are they giving you any trouble?” Ken asked, looking
down at the younger woman on the rock.
“No,” she dismissed. “They just don’t want to work. I
realize it’s hot and all that, but you don’t need to take a break every
five minutes.”
“Well, this is a very secluded valley,” Ken observed,
standing. His business suit clashed heavily with Mint’s denim overalls, but
his dignity and persona seemed just as appropriate in this distant field as
they did in a boardroom. “I wouldn’t push these guys too hard. Push them
too much and they’ll quit. It’s bad enough we’ve got them without
consulting the local labor union. If they quit, we’ll be hard-pressed to
replace them.”
“Maybe,” Mint said. She looked up at Ken, smiling.
“Still, the Triumvirate better know what it’s doing, building a fortress
like this, one that’s this big, all the way out here.”
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