Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6)

by Andre Gonzalez

  Donny nodded to Chris but didn’t speak, keeping a tight-lipped grin before forcing his beer back to his mouth.

  “Quite the team you’ve assembled here. How many members are you at now?” Chris asked.

  “We’re approaching four thousand scattered across the country. We have even shifted our focus beyond the U.S. borders—hoping to find a new recruit who gels with all of us and make them the leader of our international efforts. Right now we are solely focused on recruiting new members from the Road Runners. There’s still plenty of them out there who are sick of the status quo and want a new opportunity.”

  “Impressive, and you plan on using these recruits to help track down Briar?”

  “That’s the plan. Most of these recruits are eager to completely break away from the Road Runners and declare their allegiance to the Liberation. But we have left some that we call ‘floaters’ to sort of go back and forth. They attend Road Runner meetings, stay in the know, and relay that information to us. We could still do that ourselves, but don’t feel like it.”

  The Liberators all stared at each other and broke into cocky laughter. Chris joined them, disappointed that he’d have to kill such a fun group of guys, who he’d surely enjoy working alongside if they didn’t have cruel intentions in their hearts.

  “Well, I’ll admit, I like what I’m hearing so far,” Chris said, now curious to hear what sort of information they might have obtained. “Have you made a plan, or done any research into capturing Briar? I had to jump through all sorts of hoops and bribes to snatch Strike when I did. It was a precise window of opportunity that could have been squandered if I hadn’t been ready. I know how hard this is.”

  “It’s much easier for us still being members of the Road Runners. We can check the news, even request meetings with prominent leaders around the continent. We’ve checked out the Denver office and Briar’s house—those places are truly impenetrable right now. Our best bet is to find him out of town and try to catch him off guard.”

  “But there’s a big problem right now,” Joe said.

  Thaddeus nodded. “Yes. It doesn’t appear—at least to us—that anyone knows where Briar is at the moment.”

  Chris had been too occupied to have checked on his old friend in recent weeks, and this news was a surprise, especially coming directly from the Road Runners. “I’m sure he’s in the trenches, planning his next attack on me.”

  “What can we do today to get started?” Thaddeus asked, the room falling silent as the mood had shifted all the way to serious.

  Chris let his eyes wander toward the hallway where he saw his lead soldier waiting at the end. He grinned before turning his attention back to the Liberators gathered in the living room, ready for the fireworks to begin any moment.

  “I don’t know,” Chris said. “We can certainly dig into the research you’ve already completed. I don’t have any on my end yet for Briar specifically, but I suppose a good amount of it translates from Strike. Another positive is that it’s back on my home turf of Colorado.” The men looked at him, puzzled. Everyone associated Chris with his Alaskan mansion and never thought twice about his origins. “I’m from Colorado Springs—a decent drive from Denver, but I’m plenty familiar with the area.”

  Chris saw three soldiers out of the corner of his eyes, lurching in the hallway. “By the way, did I mention what a beautiful home you have, Thaddy? The feng shui is exquisite.”

  He grinned and took two steps back, having given his code phrase of feng shui. The three soldiers barreled down the hallway as Thaddeus thanked Chris for the compliment, oblivious.

  They reached the living room and immediately opened fire on the other three Liberators, glasses crashing to the ground in beautiful symphony, shortly followed by the heavy thumps of dead bodies hitting the hardwood floor.

  “Oops,” Chris said, offering a polite giggle.

  Thaddeus dropped his glass without second thought, his hands held high in the air. “Chris? What is this?” he asked, his voice coming out both shocked and mixed with a wary confidence.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Chris snarled. “I know what you’re up to and I won’t stand by and let it happen.

  Thaddeus gulped, shaking his head in slow motion. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is treason, Chris. Do you understand what you’ve done? We have to retaliate—you just killed our entire leadership.”

  “Well, not yet,” Chris said with a crooked smile.

  Thaddeus dropped his arms, fear vanishing from his eyes as he realized death was imminent. “You played me. Pulled me along on this big joke, huh?”

  “Quite the contrary, Mr. Hamilton. I had no issue letting you operate as an individual organization, but our meeting in Wyoming left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn’t appreciate all of the questions regarding my Keeper abilities. I’m afraid I can’t let anyone live who even suggests threatening that status. I already have my hands full and can’t fight two battles at the same time.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Thaddeus cried, desperation replacing his short-lived confidence. “Don’t kill me, Chris. I don’t know what conclusions you’re jumping to, but I think you have it all wrong.”

  “I’m sure you say that now because it’s convenient. Do you even know how many times I’ve been crossed since becoming the Keeper?”

  Thaddeus didn’t respond.

  “More than I can even keep track of,” Chris said. “I’ve killed people in my past and don’t even remember their names, all because they thought it would be fun to dance with the Revolution. Now, I’ll admit you pose no direct threat to the Revolution, but if the Keeper status is what you want, I won’t stand for that.”

  “Chris, you can’t go on forever. You need help,” Thaddeus said in his last ditch effort to spare his life. “And whether or not it’s me, someone will replace you eventually. We can work out a transition, something that allows you to retain power and respect across the world.”

  Chris nodded for his soldiers to grab Thaddeus and they promptly did so, one each grabbing an arm, the other keeping a distance with his rifle aimed at his head.

  “How generous of you, Thaddy, but I’ll be fine on my own—just like I’ve been my entire life. I am curious, was this your play all along? Was it ever about showing up the Road Runners, or was this the moment you longed for?”

  “I’ve never thought of taking anything from you, Chris. I wish you’d recognize that. You’re making a mistake.”

  Chris pulled out his pistol, admired it, and tucked it back into waistband. He rummaged through his pockets until whipping out a switchblade, promptly ejecting the knife and taking a slow step toward Thaddeus who started squirming in the guards’ grips. “I don’t make mistakes,” Chris said, forcing the blade through Thad’s throat, holding it in place as the Liberation’s leader gurgled on his own blood, then pulling it out and licking both sides of the blade clean before returning it to his pocket.

  Chris stepped back and watched as Thad’s legs gave out, blood squirting from his throat like a fountain, decorating the living room. Some even landed on Chris’s face, but he didn’t notice, too busy beaming into Thad’s eyes as life slipped away and raw fear emerged from his pores like a seductive gas.

  Chris opened his nostrils and took a deep inhale, feeding his soul, lusting for the opportunity to have a similar moment with Martin Briar.

  Chapter 9

  Chris ordered the team three rounds of drinks for their flight back to Idaho. Flights with his soldiers were typically silent, but Chris encouraged them to celebrate this special occasion by eating, drinking, playing cards, and even smoking cigars. It was a small victory they all needed to boost their morale after the tumult of the past month.

  He really needed to return his focus to Briar and the Road Runners. Thaddeus had proven that Chris could be too easily distracted with other threats, and let his guard down for that hour in his Iowa home. Anything could have happened during that hour, and Chris needed to keep that in mind.

&nb
sp; They all shared a laugh before landing in Idaho, mocking Thaddeus for thinking he could get away with such ambition.

  “Would someone on their last leg as Keeper be able to sniff out that bullshit and put a swift end to it?!” Chris asked his raucous jet of soldiers.

  “NO!” they all barked in response.

  “Does the Keeper of Time ever quit?!”

  “NO!”

  “Does the Keeper of Time bow down to his enemies?!”

  “NO!”

  “Will the Keeper of Time ever die?!”

  “HELL NO!”

  They broke into chaotic cheering, some of the large men even jumping around, the jet feeling like it had caught a bout of mild turbulence. Chris fell back into his lounge chair, laughing to the ceiling.

  As was always the case, celebrations only lasted so long for the Revolution. Once they landed and hit the road for their hour drive to Three Creek, Chris had already shifted his focus to the next task at hand. It was Monday, and that meant an incoming phone call from Sonya was scheduled for exactly 3:45 P.M.

  He had twenty minutes to spare once they arrived to the house, and Chris used the time on his laptop, browsing the live feed of the Road Runners’ news network. There were no stories of significance—mostly uplifting crap that he had no interest hearing about.

  Sonya had been on her own for over a month now, and had always called at the exact day and time they had agreed on. Chris, a man of his word, had indeed refused to look into Sonya’s whereabouts, trusting their agreement of her checking in once a week to ensure she was breathing and well.

  He closed the Road Runners’ feed at 3:44 and leaned back in his office chair, arms clasped behind his head as he waited for the phone to ring. He knew she was in the past, Sonya having informed him she had to jump forward to place the phone call.

  3:45 struck and he took a deep breath, rapping his fingers on the desk, grabbing the computer’s mouse to fidget with something. A grandfather clock stood in the opposite corner of the room, the seconds ticking away with the calming—yet torturous—sound of the pendulum swinging back and forth.

  When 3:46 hit, Chris stared at the small clock on the lower right corner of his computer screen, the time teasing him. His legs started to bounce underneath the desk. “Where are you, Sonya?” he mumbled, turning on his cell phone’s screen to ensure the time was consistent across all devices.

  3:47 came and Chris scratched his head before letting his hand land over his mouth. He pinched his lips as his eyes remained fixated on the time, the minutes seeming to drag.

  At 3:48 he unlocked his cell phone and scrolled through his past calls until he found the one time-stamped from last week at 3:45. The caller ID showed as “Unavailable”, but he pressed on it to see where it might ring, bracing for Sonya to answer. It rang fifteen times before Chris hung up and dropped the cell phone on top of his desk, standing up to pace around the office. “Sonya, this isn’t funny,” he said to the phone, refusing to break eye contact with it.

  By the time the clock struck 3:50, Chris started grabbing loose items on his desk and hurling them at the walls, cursing under his breath.

  He picked up his cell phone and dialed again, faced with the same response. “What the fuck?” he asked the empty office, sitting back down and letting his legs continue their antsy bouncing.

  He called Duane, who didn’t answer. He called Mario Webster down at Wealth of Time, who also did not answer—his call went straight to voicemail. The thought crept into his mind that this was the moment Briar had planned for. Alone in his office, he’d have no way of knowing if time was frozen, so he opened the door and trudged into the living room, relieved at the sight of his soldiers gathered around the TV, laughing at a stand-up comedy special of Louis C.K.

  Chris grumbled before returning to his office relieved to know it wasn’t time to fight, but panic further bubbling within.

  Can she actually be hurt? he wondered. Yes, but there are plenty of other logical reasons she hasn’t called—no need to panic. She could have fallen asleep for an afternoon nap. Could be out at the store and lost track of time. Or maybe she just forgot. She does have the tendency to be a bit scatterbrained at times.

  “Or she’s in trouble,” Chris said, his voice drowning out his internal thoughts.

  His legs had grown tired from the constant bouncing and pacing, and he reached down to rub them, not yet realizing he hadn’t done that in over forty years. Chris considered a couple of options at this point, and debated infiltrating the Road Runners’ network, just to spark some life into them and see if he could get a reaction from their commander. A sensation kept gnawing in his gut that something was indeed off about this entire situation, but he kept ignoring it. Perhaps he was still too high from his slaughter of Thaddeus to grasp such negative thoughts. Maybe he refused to believe that his life would ever actually be in danger. Whatever the reason, Chris would soon realize he had made a mistake by not listening to—and trusting—his instincts.

  He decided to go straight to the source and dialed Martin Briar. Like everyone else in the world, apparently, the call headed straight to voicemail. Chris declined to leave a message and hung up, glaring across the room to the grandfather clock that rang its dull bell four times to signify four o’clock had arrived.

  The reality finally sunk in that Sonya was not calling, and for a rare instance, Chris Speidel had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to rush into any drastic conclusions, but the phone calls had a purpose for his well-being.

  With Revolters all around the country, Chris returned to his computer and put out an email blast to all offices, calling for every single member to find Sonya. It would take a couple hours for the messages to be relayed and put into action, especially considering each team would decide how to best spread their members both across time and locations. He’d expect to hear some sort of results within four hours, meaning he had to hunker down in this house under full security, just in case.

  Once the email was sent, Chris powered off his computer and barged into the living room. “We have a situation,” he explained to his soldiers, who promptly turned off the TV and gathered around. “I have not heard from Sonya for our regularly scheduled phone call. I don’t have reason to believe my life is in jeopardy, at the moment, but I want to exercise caution. We need to completely secure the perimeter of the property. I want all of you to get into position outside and shoot anything that approaches—we have no expected visitors. I’ll be in my office and will keep my weapons nearby. Stand your ground until I inform you it’s safe to retreat inside.”

  As usual, his soldiers didn’t question anything and silently moved about the house to grab their rifles and coats before strolling outside for the next few hours. With the house empty, Chris returned to the office and locked the door, closed the windows and blinds, and retrieved the pistol from his desk drawer. He lay on the couch, hoping to pass the time until hearing from someone.

  Chris never felt the fatigue or sleepiness creep into his head. Sure, he had slept at night to pass the quiet hours, but he never expected to fall into a deep afternoon nap that his body demanded. His mind drifted away and took him under, into the first natural sleep cycle since becoming the Keeper of Time. While he snoozed, Chris never felt the grumbling in his stomach or the dryness filling his mouth as he fully returned to a somewhat regular, vulnerable, human being.

  Chapter 10

  A pending disaster was well underway by the time the Council returned from their lunch break and resumed their daily session. Their calendar had been filled with minor matters to settle, but that was all pushed aside when news broke about the assassination of Thaddeus Hamilton.

  At first, the story was nothing but shock for the Road Runners, many of them grateful that Chris had actually attacked someone else besides them. That factoid, however, sparked a wave of panic throughout the membership that the organization was not ready for.

  Many considered it a warning shot. If Thaddeus could be killed, why not Comma
nder Briar? And where was he, anyway? The Council’s email inbox had flooded with requests regarding their commander’s whereabouts. As rocky as the election and transition from Strike to Briar had been, many had rallied behind Martin yet still had a rotten taste in their mouths having watched the gruesome death of Strike.

  The news had broken just before the Council recessed for lunch, and by the time they came back an hour later, a crowd of roughly thirty Road Runners had gathered in the marketing office upstairs, demanding protection from the organization as they grew convinced of pending mayhem.

  Chief Councilman Uribe ordered security members upstairs to gauge what exactly the members wanted.

  “Our time of reckoning has arrived!” one member shouted. “Our war ends tonight!”

  The crowd cheered these statements as truths, despite no one having any evidence to back it up.

  Word leaked back to the Council as they convened for the afternoon and what was sure to be a long night ahead.

  “Have we heard from the commander and his team?” Uribe asked Councilman Bolt, who had been tasked with reaching out to the team working on the Depression-era mission.

  “We have not, sir, and I’m concerned. Because of the nature of this mission, we’ve had three checkpoints scheduled throughout the day, each and every day since they left. We last heard from Lieutenant Commander Herrera this morning, confirming that they were going into Sonya’s apartment today. It’s now been ninety minutes since their last check-in was due.”

  “And have we checked the tracking system?”

  “Yes, sir, they all still appear to be in Chicago—in the same building—alive and well. That’s why we’re not quite concerned about them yet. The mission could have hit some bumps—they expected as much dealing with Sonya.”

  Uribe took off his glasses and tossed them on the table, rubbing his eyes and forehead, just as the head of security, Devin Janae, barged into the chambers with her eyes bulging.