|
Episode
130
“You realize that you’re giving up any claims on being a
“2.” Ledger said, laying down the pair of playing cards. Sydney
swept them up in one hand and dealt out two more to him within the span of
a breath.
“1.” Morgan said, putting down one card, accepting the
replacement.
“3.” Edgar said after some thought, laying down the majority of
his hand. Sydney smiled at him as she counted out three cards towards him.
“4.” Armand said, laying down almost all of his hand.
“You want to fold.” Roland said, between him and Sydney, the
bulk of his attention on his own cards.
“I do?” Armand said, looking at Roland. The knight just nodded.
Armand looked at Roland for a moment more, then to Sydney. She nodded. He
glanced at Ledger, who nodded as well. Edgar and Morgan shared the
sentiment and the gesture. “I, um, I fold.” He said, laying down all
five cards.
“Two.” Roland said, completing the circle around the dame
dealer.
“I wish I could play poker.” Sydney tossed out casually,
handing Roland his cards. “I just think it’s boring. I just like
dealing the cards.”
“Yeah, weren’t you trying to use cards as throwing weapons in
high school?” Roland asked. Sydney took a single card in her fingers and
flipped her wrist at Roland. Flying like a blade, the blue-backed card
shot across the hotel room table at the knight before it was stopped just
short of his cheek.
Roland looked at the card he caught between his fingers, then
looked back at Sydney. “You’re supposed to take these things out.”
He said, stamping the joker’s card down onto the table.
“That would explain why I got the rules card.” Armand said.
“Can I change my mind about folding?”
“No.” The table recited in unison.
“Why didn’t you tell them about the plans?” Marilyn asked, as
she sat on the farthest bed from the door. Opposite her, sitting on the
nearer bed, Everett said with his chin leaning on the handle of his
ninjato. Balancing his head, the sword teetered constantly, but it never
actually fell over.
“Because I don’t want to be involved in a full-scale war.”
Everett explained without looking up at his guest. “Because if the
knights knew about that, they would want to attack the fortress, which
would probably be suicide.”
“I still don’t understand why you don’t turn it over to the
government.” Marilyn said. “The army, they’d do something.”
“They would attack it.” Everett nodded. “And they’d
probably try to attack it like it was a fortress, with ‘overwhelming
force’. But it was designed, it was designed specifically to repel an
assault like that. A regular military force couldn’t take it.”
“So only knights could?”
“I’m not saying only knights could.” Everett said, shaking
his head, nearly toppling the delicate balance he had achieved with his
sword. “I’m just saying, probably one out of a hundred army officers
might be able, be capable, to handle the campaign that assaulting that
fortress might be. And that would be only after the Army threw hundreds,
thousands of men at it.”
“How do you know?” She asked.
“Marilyn, I know a lot about the military.” He said, looking up
from his sword. “I was the biggest Marines nut in the world. And I
studied all the branches, Army, Navy, Air Force, and the Marines. But the
more I saw of them, once I got close to being in them, the more I realized
that they can not function in the situations that they are constantly
pushed into.”
“What do you mean?” Marilyn asked, snaking her legs under her
as she sat up. She shivered slightly in the chill of the pastel hotel
room, but Everett didn’t notice.
“Modern warfare isn’t fought on the ambiguous battlefield.”
The knight explained. “It’s fought in small, close-in engagements. The
hundreds of soldiers on each side of the field marching towards on another
is a thing of the past. Sending troops in to fight is futile because one
well-placed missile and they’re gone. What is needed now in the world of
warfare is small, well-trained units who specialize in night fighting,
close-quarters improvised combat, fighting against superior numbers, and
entrance techniques. We don’t need soldiers, we basically need ninjas
now.”
“Or knights.” Marilyn asked with a sentimental smile. She
looked around the room as Everett stared off into morose space. “Ev,”
She asked, drawing his attention up to her. “I know you wanted me to, to
stay in Sydney’s room, but I was wondering . . . can I stay in here
tonight?”
In the early morning, the knock at the door awakened all three
knights simultaneously. Morgan was the first to sit up, his Grosse Messer
in his hand as he stayed next to the air conditioner. On the nearer bed
above him, Ledger sat up, his shotgun cocked. And then on the farther bed,
Roland held his katana ready.
There was nothing for a moment.
“If that’s Armand wanting his blanket or something else, tell
him he’s lucky he drew the long straw to sleep in Edgar’s room.”
Roland grumbled with a whisper, lying back down.
Morgan stood up as he left his sword by the air conditioner,
sliding a white shirt on as he approached the door. He looked back at
Ledger, then unlocked the door. “Who is it?” He called, checking
through the peephole as he worked.
“It’s Arthur.”
“This is the thing.” Malcolm said, as he rode next to Ruwani on
the university bus. Across from her, Alan and Brian played chess on a
magnetic board, seemingly miles away from the conversation. “These guys,
Errol and his people, they want to get out of the Brotherhood.”
“Okay.” Ruwani nodded, trying to take the conversation one
sentence at a time.
“But in order to do that, we need the knights to help us.”
Malcolm continued. “Which means we’ve got to find out where Marilyn
went.”
“Malcolm, it’s Sunday morning.” Ruwani said, yawning. “The
only place open right now is the pancake place. Maybe Marilyn just left
down to get away from Victor. He’s been hounding her constantly. And he
just won’t shut up about the knights.”
“And about how much he doesn’t trust her.” Brian chimed in,
moving a piece against Alan’s white forces. “I’m telling you, guys,
somebody’s got to do something about him.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Brian.” Ruwani called across
the noisy, but mostly empty bus. She looked back at Malcolm. “How long
do we have?”
“Have until what?” Malcolm asked.
“Until these guys can’t defect any more?” She asked.
“They’ve got to be working under a window here.”
“Oh, yeah.” Malcolm nodded. “Errol mentioned something about
Tuesday night, but I didn’t understand the significance of it.”
Arthur was more than a little bit bigger than Morgan. Underneath
the denim shirt and black pants, the large black man stared at the former
knight with a hard intensity. But despite the katana that hung from his
side, he was obviously not here for a fight.
“I want you to help me out on a special mission.” Arthur
explained clearly, as the two stood out on the balcony of the three-story
hotel. Red doors and gray walls lined the space behind them, while the
swimming pool and the parking lot waited over the railing.
“Special mission.” Morgan repeated. “Why does that scare me
more than the slope in this floor?”
“My team, we’ve identified six targets that we believe
absolutely have to be taken down.” Arthur explained, his gravel voice
low as he spoke in a hushed tone. “We’ve got a three day strike
planned. Two targets each day, tomorrow through Wednesday.”
“By targets, what do you mean?” Morgan asked.
“Independent Brotherhood sites.” Arthur said. “Sites that we
feel probably have gone unnoticed by the regional knights.”
“And you plan to do what?” Morgan asked.
Arthur just stared at him.
“And why me?” Morgan kept on.
“Your training.” Arthur said clearly. “You’d be invaluable.
And I’ve only got four knights. A fifth man always makes things
easier.”
“The knightly obsession with five.” Morgan said, shaking his
head. “Arthur, this goes against everything I believe in and you’re .
. .”
“Six sites, Morgan.” Arthur interrupted, his piercing eyes
staring at the former knight. “Three days. Are you in or are you out?
Yes or no, right now.” |