Justice Keepers Saga--Books 1-3, page 53
“Good,” Slade murmured. “Then let's attend to our business.”
Raindrops speckled the windshield of his car, but Leo surveyed the cul-de-sac just the same. A wise man was always on the watch for enemies. A lone street lamp cast orange light down on large houses arranged in a semicircle. Freshly-built and still on the market, they were all unoccupied for the time being.
He pulled into a driveway at the end of the street, gravel crunching beneath the van's tires. As he settled to a stop, he let out a sigh. It was a quaint little place to live, much nicer than the hovels he was used to.
He opened the door.
Dressed in a set of gray coveralls and a blue baseball cap, Leo hopped out of the vehicle. “A few more months of this,” he muttered, shutting the door. “And you'll be as soft as that fool Lars.”
He approached the front door, slid a key into the deadbolt and gave it a jiggle. The instant he got it open, Leo froze in place. Something wasn't right here. Stairs in front of the door led up to the second level, and beside them, a narrow hallway stretched to the kitchen, from which a fan of light spilled.
Wetting his lips, Leo closed his eyes tight. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath. “Well, isn't this joyous!” he called out. “I hadn't been expecting company, but if you were kind enough to come see me, perhaps-”
A man stepped into view at the end of the hallway.
Dark of skin and eye, he had a square-jawed face that would have been considered handsome by most women and black hair that he wore buzzed to little more than stubble. The well-tailored gray suit that he accented with a red tie only compounded his presence. “Good evening,” he said.
“And you are?”
The other man lifted his chin, squinting at Leo. “Mr. Pennfield is quite pleased with your progress,” he explained. “The chaos you have sown in this city will serve our ends well. But you were instructed to wear a mask.”
Clenching his teeth into a rictus smile, Leo narrowed his eyes. “Are you actually lecturing me?” he asked, shaking his head. “Let me make one thing abundantly clear to you: no one – not even Pennfield – tells me what to do!”
The other man frowned and lowered his eyes to the floor. “I am sorry to hear you say that,” he murmured, starting down the hallway. “Unfortunately the gifts that we have given you – this house, the car, the money and the drugs that sustain your good health – come at a price.”
“And what price is that?”
“Obedience.”
Leo crossed his arms, scowling down at himself. He forced out a sigh as he strode down the hall to meet the man halfway. “I am providing you with what you need. These people will despise the Leyrians by the time I'm done.”
“And if someone should recognize you.”
“I'll kill him.”
Did these fools not understand the nature of strength? Cowards hid behind masks! Real men faced their opponents in the open. The memory of Jack Hunter taunting him set his veins on fire. He pushed past the other man, making his way to the kitchen.
A simple rectangular table sat in the middle of a room lined with stainless steel cupboards, and two men sat with their backs turned, whispering to each other. They both wore dirty old sweaters and blue jeans. “Who are you?” Leo demanded.
One slid his chair back and stood.
This fellow was tall and slim with noticeably pale skin and dark stubble along his jawline. His black hair was a mess. “I…I'm Paul, sir,” he muttered. “Mr. Gilbert brought us here to help you.”
Leo held the man's gaze, blinking slowly. “And why should I need your help?” he asked, wrinkles forming in his brow. “Have I not done an adequate job of tormenting this city all on my own?”
“Things have changed.”
When he turned, he found the man in the fine, gray suit – Mr. Gilbert, he presumed – making his way through the narrow corridor. “Your insistence on revealing your face has made it difficult for you to go out in public.”
“I can go out just fine.”
Ignoring the comment, Gilbert stepped into the kitchen with hands folded behind his back, directing a tight-mouthed frown at the pair of idiots who now occupied Leo's table. “Paul and Bojing here are street dealers who have made a modest income selling cocaine to college students. They will assist you should you decide to distribute Amps to the general public.”
Cocking his head to one side, Leo squinted at the two of them. “No women?” he asked in incredulous tones. “Such a pity. I would have enjoyed the diversion. I'm told the women here are soft.”
Gilbert thrust out his chin and studied him with eyes that seemed to smolder with hidden fires. “We are here to serve God,” he said, “not to satisfy your vulgar appetites. I will not subject an innocent woman to your company.”
“You'll condone murder,” Leo said, “but the idea of me having a little fun with some miserable little tart offends you?”
Gilbert strode across the white-tiled floor to a pitcher he had left on the counter. He took hold of the thing and poured himself a glass of water. “The deaths that you bring are necessary to usher in the new world,” he said. “Sating your appetites is not.”
Leo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It doesn't matter,” he said, shaking his head. “The only thing that matters is killing Jack Hunter. I will enjoy the sensation of his blood on my hands.”
Gilbert froze in place with his back turned, then slowly lifted the glass to his lips. “You're supposed to keep a low profile,” he replied. “Ignore Hunter unless he directly targets you.”
“I will not allow this insult!”
“Insult?”
Leo gritted his teeth, the heat in his face rising with every breath. “He challenged me and survived.” Speaking those words made bile rise in his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul watching him with apprehension in his eyes. “If I allowed Hunter to live, it would be a sign of weakness.”
Gilbert turned around.
The man leaned against the counter with arms folded, glaring his displeasure. “I am uninterested in these little traditions of yours,” he hissed. “Look around you, Leo. This is not Rathala.”
“I am going to kill him!”
“You are going to do as you're told,” Gilbert countered. “Exactly as you're told and nothing more. Make no mistake, Leo; you are a tool. An effective tool, but one that can be easily replaced should the need arise.”
The urge to stride across the room and punch the other man was hard to resist. Leo was tantalized by the vision of Gilbert's face crumpling beneath the onslaught of his fist, but that would do him no good. Like it or not, he needed the resources Pennfield offered in exchange for his services. To depend on another man for his food? It was a disgusting feeling. Restraining his temper took some effort.
Gilbert offered a toothy grin, amusement shining in those dark eyes. “There now,” he said with a nod. “Isn't that better? I'm glad to see that you can demonstrate some small amount of self-control.”
“Yes,” Leo muttered. “Much better.”
The man left after receiving a few more assurances that Leo would play the role assigned to him, leaving his two flunkies behind. What to do with them? Musing on that for a few minutes gave him some ideas.
Leo faced them with arms crossed, frowning at the pair. “I want you both to report everything you hear from your suppliers and clients,” he said. “I will need all the information I can get when I go after Hunter.”
Bojing – a lanky young man with tilted eyes and a perfectly shaved head – looked up at him with a scowl. “Gilbert told us not to go after this Jack Hunter,” he said. “You really wanna piss him off?”
“That's a good point.”
Leo came up behind the fool, resting hands on Bojing's shoulders. He leaned over to smile at his newest subordinate. “Gilbert did say to leave Hunter alone,” he murmured. “Do you think he might do something drastic if we disobeyed?”
Bojing tilted his head back, staring up at him with obvious tension. He blinked as he considered the question. “I think so,” he said. “Guys like that are used to getting their way, you know what I'm saying?”
“And what will I do if you disobey me?”
Leo seized the man's head in both hands and gave a twist, snapping the neck in one smooth motion. The sweet snap of breaking bones sent tiny shivers of ecstasy through his body. Bojing toppled over, sprawled out on the table.
Paul stared at him with a gaping mouth, blinking slowly. “You just…” He slid his chair back and tried to get to his feet, but panic made him drop to his knees. “Oh, God! Please don't kill me!”
Leo shot a glance over his shoulder, a lazy smile on his face. “God?” he said, eyebrows rising. “You heard Gilbert, didn't you? It is God that we serve. In serving me, you serve him.”
Paul was even paler than usual. “Please, Mr. Leo,” he whispered, tears leaking from his eyes to run down his cheek. “I'm not into all this crazy religious shit. Just let me go, and I won't tell no one.”
“Religious shit?”
“Please don't kill me.”
Pressing a fist to his mouth, Leo cleared his throat. “I think I understand,” he said in the gentlest tones he could manage. “You're under the mistaken impression that I am serving some nebulous creator who exists only as a figment of my imagination.”
Paul nodded.
“It's not like that,” Leo assured the man. “Mine is a God that you can see, hear and touch with your own hands. Mine is a God that rewards those who do his will, a God who has given me the strength to crush my enemies.”
“Oh…” Paul stammered. “That…That's great.”
“Would you like to meet him?”
PART II
16
The Nova Café was a quaint little establishment on a balcony that overlooked Station Twelve's central corridor. Down below, a young woman went scurrying by with her face hidden by a tablet that she studied intently.
Two dozen round metal tables were spread out across the balcony, most of them unoccupied but some home to men and women who sat staring into their coffee with solemn expressions. Most of the Leyrians opted to stay in their quarters now that they had been refused entry into one of Earth's largest nations. The anti-Leyrian movement had always been vocal, and many people feared that other nations would follow Canada's example. It was a dreary time.
Jack sat at a table in gray cargo pants and a brown jacket, hunched over with his elbow on his placement, his cheek resting in the palm of his hand. “So this is my lovely new assignment,” he muttered. “From anti-terrorism task force to chauffeur in two days.”
Closing his eyes, Jack exhaled roughly. “Where are you, Miss Valtez?” he said, shaking his head. “Some of us have better things to do than wait around for you to disembark.”
Windows along the central corridor looked into offices that were used to manage various projects on the station. There were potted plants and even a few trees with green leaves that blocked his view of the ceiling, giving the whole place the feel of a mall. The only thing missing was a fountain.
Several paces down the corridor, a clear elevator shaft led up to higher levels on the ring-shaped station, and then all the way to central docking bay. The illustrious Gabrina Valtez would be arriving through there.
Jack leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of all the people Jena could send,” he muttered. “Don't Leyrians have robots that can pick you up at the spaceport?”
Of course, it did make sense to have a flesh-and-blood person ready to meet her. In truth, he wasn't really mad about having to greet a new visitor to the station. He was mad about being removed from the anti-terrorism task force along with every other Keeper on this station. The menial job was just salt in the wound.
He saw the elevator descend through the clear tube and settle to a stop on the other side of two large metal doors. With any luck, that would be his quarry. There were very few ships docking today.
Jack stood.
He trotted down the steps from the balcony, holding the railing the whole time, then took off at a jog for the elevator doors. It wouldn't do to leave the poor woman standing there like a deer in the headlights.
The doors slid open, revealing a single occupant inside the elevator. Short and just a little plump, Gabrina Valtez wore a black skirt and white short-sleeved blouse. Her long black hair was left loose to frame a round face of deep copper skin.
“Miss Valtez?”
She stepped out of the elevator with her purse slung over one shoulder, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “That,” she said, “was not an enjoyable experience. My poor stomach is quite fond of gravity.”
The station created gravity through rotation, leaving the central docking by a zero-g zone. Most people who disembarked from ships needed a few minutes to get used to the weightlessness.
Chewing on his lower lip, Jack closed his eyes. He nodded slowly in agreement. “Right there with you, ma'am,” he said. “When I was a little boy, I used to dream about becoming an astronaut.”
“What changed?”
“Exposure to zero-g environments.”
Gabrina Valtez smiled, bowing her head to him. She brushed strands of dark hair out of her eyes. “One must admire those early pioneers,” she said. “Those who went into space before the invention of artificial gravity. And Earth's astronauts as well.”
“I'm Jack Hunter,” he said, offering his hand.
She frowned as she studied it, then reluctantly took his hand and gave it a shake. “I forgot this is a common custom among your people,” she said. “Forgive me. It's going to take a little while to adjust.”
“Not a problem.”
They started down the corridor toward the tram-line that would take them to Jena's office, walking silently for a moment. “So, you're Jack Hunter,” she said at last. “The first of your people to bond a symbiont.”
Jack grinned, letting his head hang. He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, that's me,” he admitted. “But I'll tell you right now: don't believe the rumors you've heard.”
“I seldom do.”
She stared straight ahead with a smooth expression. “A good intelligence agent doesn't put much stock in rumors,” she said. “At least not without corroborating them.”
Gabrina paused to take in the sight of the station, blinking slowly as she turned her head. “You know,” she said. “This is the first time that I've ever been on board an orbital space station.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I spent most of my career planetside. On my world, Keepers have offices in major cities, and the orbital stations are used mainly for deep range telemetry. I've never had cause to set foot on one before. May I ask you something, Jack?”
“Of course.”
Gabrina stopped, turning on her heel to face him with arms folded. She looked him up and down, then met his gaze. “Do you deserve that face?” she asked, raising one dark eyebrow. “How old are you really?”
Jack went red, then turned his face away from her. He pressed a fist to his mouth and coughed. “Twenty-two, Ma'am,” he answered. “I bonded with my symbiont a little over three years ago.”
“Ah. So you're one of the rare Keepers who actually looks his age,” she said. “I've always found that phenomenon a little disconcerting. And don't call me ma'am. My name is Gabrina, but I prefer to go by Gabi.”
“Okay, Gabi.”
A few minutes' walk took them to a set of stairs that led to the tram-line. They were an empty, an unusual occurrence for mid-afternoon. Things really were getting somber around here.
The five minutes they spent waiting on the platform provided Jack with the perfect opportunity to bring her up to speed on everything that had happened. Watching her face twist at his description of the murders reminded him of just how much he wanted to lock Leo in a cage and throw away the key.
The tram car arrived, rushing down the track with a whooshing noise, remaining a blur until it finally slowed. Done all in polished steel, it reminded Jack of the subway cars he'd seen in Toronto.
It settled to a stop.
Once they were inside, they chose two seats that faced forward. Jack was still a bit unsettled by the fact that she had asked him his age. Reminders of his youth and lack of experience were not exactly welcome at the moment. His mother had once told him that you never asked a woman her age, but that was an Earth attitude. Leyrians were big on gender equality, and turnabout was fair play. “So, Gabi,” he began. “If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?”
Gabrina sat back with arms folded, frowning at him. “Much too old for you, I'm afraid,” she answered. “But if you want me to quantify that with a number, I am thirty-one.”
Jack grinned, shutting his eyes tight. He shook his head and tried not to laugh. “I didn't mean it that way,” he said. “I just figured that since you asked me…Turn about is fair play, after all.”
“So it is.”
Young Jack Hunter was pleasant company, a fact that surprised her to no end; after spending three days on a ship traveling here, the fact that she hadn't snapped at him in her exhaustion was in and of itself a recommendation.
The young man was somewhat perplexing: deathly serious at one moment and then making jokes in the next. A shame he was so young! Quick wit, good looks and a talent for keeping her on her toes: these were the things that would attract her attention in short order. Gabi forced herself to put the idea out of her head. Men in their early twenties were off limits. No exceptions.
With a few carefully chosen questions, she gained a sense of the political climate down on the planet. It was clear that this was all very new to Jack. That made sense when you stopped to think about it.
Less than five years ago, the question of whether it was even possible to travel the stars was still hotly debated in his society, and now the people of Earth were being led into the galactic community. So much of what was often considered common knowledge had been withheld from them. The existence of the Overseers, for one. A curious fact, that. The Overseers had revealed themselves to humans on every world except their place of origin. Why?
