|
“You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”
Luke Skywalker, Star Wars: The Empire
Strikes Back
Jericho
pushed open the doors of his office, his thick arms commanding the doors
apart as if by will alone. Flanked by his two aides, he smiled as he walked
towards the giant window that was the rear wall of the dark office.
The thick, athletic man stopped at the edge of the
desk and looked around the gray room, at the simple furniture that served
their utilitarian purposes and at the simple lamps that came to life at the
command of his two aids. In the waning daylight, the room slowly became a
power against the darkness.
“I want Aaron and his men to receive medical
attention,” he said as he sat down behind his long, polished desk. Once in
his chair, Jericho’s
eyes closed as he slowed his movements. “Ah,” he smiled proudly. “It’s good
to be home.”
“Sir, Aaron knows now that you plotted against him,”
Eli said, standing stalwartly at attention on the opposite side of the desk
from his Asian cohort. “Is it wise to release them?”
“Release them?” Jericho
asked, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Who said anything about
releasing them? Oh no. We’re not releasing anybody. Aaron’s many things,
amongst them being smart and most definitely resourceful. If we take our
eyes off of him for two minutes, he could undo everything. The same goes
for all his boys.”
“And Phillip?” asked the Asian man as he rested his
hands on the pommel of his katana. “What shall we do with him?”
“Roji’s right,” Eli concurred. “What do we do about
him?”
Jericho
smiled, his head resting on his hands as he leaned back in his chair. “Phil,”
he said, thinking fondly. The smile slowly turned vicious. “Phillip, I want
to handle personally.”
“Knightsnet.com,” Everett repeated, as he stared at the
black computer screen. He looked over at Armand as the younger knight
watched anxiously. “I wonder what they’ve got to say?”
“There’s stuff about a big rally this weekend,”
Armand suggested. “Check the recent posts.”
“How is this thing organized?” Everett said, typing in commands. “The
mouse doesn’t work on the screen.”
“It’s all hotkeys,” Armand said. “I guess the
program’s really simple. I don’t know.”
“There’s a gathering this weekend in…” Everett started. But
slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Roland’s posted on this thing.”
“Figures,” Armand shrugged.
“So has Ledger,” Everett looked back at Armand, his eyes
visibly shaking with anger. “Where are they?” he demanded.
“They went out for awhile,” Armand answered. “I think
to go see Roland’s parents.”
“Give me the phone,” Everett asked, turning back to the
screen. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“I can’t believe it,” Errol said as the four
Investigators crowded together at the rear end of the table. “That son of a
bitch is actually alive.”
“Believe it,” Orson said. “If anyone was going to
pull a stunt like this, it’d be Goldilocks.”
“Guys, we’ve got bigger problems right now,” Aaron
said in a rushed tone. “Like trying to figure out exactly what’s going to
happen from here. I know we all hate Phillip, but we really may have just
gone from the frying pan into the fire on this one.”
“How do you figure?” Errol asked with a sick laugh.
“How could Jericho
possibly be any worse than…”
“Guys,” Ian said, silencing the conversation. He
motioned with his head to the guards behind each of them. “What’s he
doing?” The three looked towards the direction Ian was motioning subtly, to
the fourth guard that stood over Phillip. “If we’re such a threat, why were
we released? And if Phil’s such a threat, why does he only have one guard.
And why do we need three guards? We just got saved.”
“Better yet, why is there only one…” Orson started.
Pop.
Thud.
Pop.
Thud.
Pop.
Thud.
The three white flashes were instantaneous, but the
falling of the three guards took just over a second. Aaron stared in horror
as the Hand agent that stood over Phillip slid the silenced gun back into
his breast holster before he reached down and began to undo the handcuffs
of the Clan leader.
“Oh hell,” Errol whispered, backing away from the
Agent, looking ready to bolt in any direction. But the man paid the four no
mind. He helped Phillip get to his feet and moved to open the door.
“First rule of a hostile take-over,” Phillip said,
smiling through the blood that still spilled over his lip, “start replacing
everyone. Jericho’s
about to be in for a rude surprise when he finds out that not all his
precious Hand agents are so loyal to him.”
The Agent opened the door and he turned back to
Phillip. In a moment, the four Investigators’ were left alone in the room,
only three dead bodies to keep them company.
Roland picked up his phone, grinning as he drove like
a demon down the interstate. “Roland’s house of sodomy. What can we do you
for?”
“Knightsnet,” came Everett’s furious voice. “What the hell
have you guys been into?”
“Ev,” Roland said, suddenly sitting up. Ledger looked
over from the passenger seat. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Ledger both have links to Knightsnet on my
computer,” Everett
nearly shouted into his phone as he paced angrily in his apartment, Armand
watching helplessly. “What the hell are you guys thinking?”
“We’re trying to stay up to date, man,” Roland yelled
back defensively.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Everett yelled. But he stopped, biting his
anger and swallowing it down as hard as he could. “Guys, I want you both to
get over here right now.”
“We were on our way anyway, man,” Roland said weakly.
“Good,” Everett
bit, just before the phone went dead.
“According to these reports,” Eli said, as he handed
a manila folder to Jericho,
laying it down onto the already large stack of folders that littered the
Hand of the Brotherhood’s leader’s desk. “The fortress is nearly done.
Aside from some small work, all that remains is the reactor needs to be
transported there and it will be very close to operational.”
“Excellent,” Jericho
smiled. “Get Ken on the horn. He’s going to be delighted about the news.
And pissed about the recent changing of the guard.”
As Roji turned to the phone at the corner of the
desk, the red light in the corner lit up. The loud buzzer echoed through
the room, drawing Jericho
and Eli’s attention simultaneously to it. The Asian man looked back at Jericho, then picked
up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Give me Jericho,”
came Phillip’s voice.
Roji held the phone to his chest and looked at his
superior. “It’s Phillip,” he said emotionlessly. “I guess he escaped.”
“My guards always were idiots,” Jericho sighed exasperatedly, taking the
phone from Roji. “Phil. Hey. How are ya?”
“You’re about to find out, Jericho, that I do not die that easily,”
Phillip yelled confidently into the phone.
“No, but we are going to find out exactly what it
will take to kill you, that I assure you,” Jericho said, his humor fading quickly
like the light outside his window.
“Guess again, Blondie,” Phillip barked.
“Blondie. That hurts, Phil. You’re cutting deep.”
“You’re about to find out that your men aren’t as
loyal as you thought,” Phillip went on, unabated. “If you try to order the
Hand of the Brotherhood against me, who do you think they’re going to
follow?”
Jericho
waited for a moment, taking a deep breath. He turned around from his desk,
glaring through his reflection out into the dwindling daylight. “Where are
you, Phil?” he asked, his voice low and hard.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“You’re near a window, I’ll bet. Ernesto loves to put
windows in these buildings. Well, look out the window, Phillip?” Jericho's voice said
over the phone.
Phillip
stopped his hasty walk down the hallway of the building. He turned to an
office and stepped inside, away from his Hand escort. A large window
awaited him the spacious, empty office. “What about it, Jericho?” He moved over to the window,
looking through the tightly closed blinds. The silver moon hung low and ominous
in the sky, fighting to take the aerial world from the sun.
“See the moon?”
Jericho
said, his voice becoming frighteningly clear over the cell phone Phillip
carried.
“Yeah.”
“That’s the
last time you will ever see it.”
The phone went dead.
So did Phillip's
heart.
|