by Poppet
“Hang on,” he scowls, fingertips flying over the keyboard like a sightless woman reading light.
I grab the computer from him. “Now!”
He’s fast. So fast! I tend to underestimate Jude because he’s a geek, forgetting he trained Victor back to his former glory after his coma. My nose is gushing blood, but still I don’t let the bloody laptop go. “You want to blow up with the rest of this place? Do you?!”
“Just one fucking second!” he bellows, wrath distorting his usually congenial expression. I let him have the fucking laptop.
He types furiously, then snaps it shut, resolve on his face, and starts running for the door and up the final flight of steps to the penthouse extraction point.
“You coming or what? Pussy!” he yells to me.
I shake my head, wondering if working with women is any easier than these dudes.I pace up the steps two at a time, breaching into the night and the hovering chopper waiting with Vic and two of those medical rescue plastic stretchers replete with patients. It’s just us and the pilot. I stand on the skids, relishing the wild blow of wind, and hand Victor the detonation grip.
Bradley flies us up into the sky, en route for the airfield where the jets await. Our legions will evacuate back to their digs, and on and out of there to normal civvy life like none of this happened. Their wives all think these dudes play golf and went to St Andrew’s for the weekend.
Jude has supplied gajillions of photoshopped images of all of them in poofy clothes on the greens; evidence. Their names are logged into the system at St Andrews, even though a guest pass doesn’t get logged the way members are. But what do wives know anyhow?
If we learned one thing decent from the Japanese it was this: never have an army that looks like an army. Every civilian is trained and ready at a moment’s notice, with not even their own blood knowing they are trained killers. It’s so covert that most of them have never met, but they’re on call for the entirety of their lives. They were called Ninjas.
Amen to that.
Looking back, I’m looking into darkness when an almighty boom rends the night. Mushrooms of fire dance into the heavens, curling and expanding before fading behind the dust cloud.
Never hide your light under a bushel.
Yeah, apt.
Turning front and centre I swing onto the seat, pulling on internal comms. I love nights like tonight. They help me feel alive in a dead world.
Justice was served.
~ Chapter 21 ~
I never knew you
~ Matthew 7:23
Victor:
The human body is the most magnificence organism. Evan is awake and alert, staying off his new kneecap, understanding that it needs time to heal back to its former glory. It’s strange having an outsider within the inner circle, but he defended Polina knowing the cost would be high. I owe him one, so he gets a free pass.
Polina is so swollen. She is embalmed in swaths while her body heals, but the swelling and discolouration would gall her if she could witness it. It always did strike me as insane that women choose to have this kind of surgery, to suffer the severe pain and swelling afterward just because life handed them a few lines of experience. I do lines, I do lines all the time. Lines are character, not flaws.
She’s in her own suite in the mansion, and for the coma period has a full time nurse and doctor, both trained by me, and yet they have zero access to my side of the abode. What they don’t know could easily hurt them.
Giving Polina a kiss on her hand I move to exit the wing, putting them in lockdown, leaving behind the healing music created by Dr Barbara Brenman. It’s very peaceful, too peaceful, but if it assists Polina in her recovery then why the hell not.
Jude comes striding toward me. “Meeting in your study.”
Dysphoria infuses my tranquility and I follow the passage he just took, an estuary of many, this one leading to my private wing.
I enter the gentleman’s parlour, my alarm elevating when Jude closes the door and points me to my chair at the desk. “Take a seat.”
“What gives, Jude?” I demand, not moving out of his way.
“I said sit down, Victor.”
Not many folks could get away with his tone or bossing me around, in fact he’s the only one who can. Right then. I move to my chair, sitting in it, too tense to relax into the lumbar support.
He sits opposite me, opening his laptop, and starts my education. “Alpha called Steve Rizzo from the burner. Do you know who this man is?”
I shake my head.
“Have you ever met him? Heard him mentioned? Anything?”
I shake my head again. “Nope.”
“He owns Steve’s Fight Club in Idaho. The same town Alpha was born in. Did you ever go to Alpha’s home town?”
“Nope,” I shake my head again. He’s asking the right questions. I’ve known my dad for four decades and know very little about him.
I’m looking at the photos Jude is displaying and none of them are ringing any bells. He enlarges one, and I see myself. It’s a younger version of Steve Rizzo and Alpha, outside Steve’s club, my father proudly holding the champion’s belt.
Alpha did boxing?
“Creepy, isn’t it,” he smirks.
I nod. “A little. I look just like him.”
“Are you sure Christopher Ward didn’t clone you out of his own DNA, Vic?” he grins.
I don’t return the smile. “At this point anything is possible. Like how the hell did Alpha stay so strong and young for his age?”
“We’ll get to that,” he says, losing the levity.
Fuck, my bones know this is a conversation I don’t want to have. This is going to destroy my foundation even worse than my dad sanctioning my execution did.
“So who is Steve?” I deign to ask.
“Your dad’s mentor. This is a long story, and correct me if I’m out of line at any point but I have a hunch you were kept in the dark about most of this.”
I nod for him to go ahead. Bite the bullet, let it bleed. Then you can staunch it and get on with life.
“Steve is a boxing champion, known for training the best fighters in the midwest. There were so many I got bored and left the program to search through his database for any names matching you or Alpha. Steve is also Alpha’s childhood guardian. Alpha’s father, Adam Ward, your grandfather, was a drug addict. His wife disappeared under suspicious circumstances, a few years later your grandfather Adam died, and then Steve became Alpha’s guardian.”
Swallowing thickly, I nod for him to continue.
“This is where it gets interesting.”
I can’t swallow, I’m frozen, waiting for Jude’s big revelation.
Jude says, “In a police report filed when Steve took guardianship, it says that Christopher Adam Ward, your dad, took the police to a shallow grave in the backyard. In it he claims were the remains of Miss Amy Ridley.”
I shrug at Jude. “And why the hell do I give a shit about that?”
“Because Alpha landed at Ridley Manor last night.”
“And where is Ridley Manor?” I ask.
“Bedfordshire,” states Jude grimly.
I whistle through my teeth. “That’s not far from here.” I’m trying to calculate the odds that my safe-house and my dad’s are within miles of each other, not just on the same continent but in the same country.
“Amy Ridley is Alpha’s biological mother. After school he went abroad to study at Cambridge, meeting his grandparents for the first time, and financed by them. Sir Giles Ridley and his wife Maude are your great grandparents, and Giles was a tycoon. Alpha’s mom was loaded, running away to the States in the 60s to join the love revolution. She never returned to her swanky life once she met Adam Ward.”
“They weren’t married?” I scowl. My father is a bastard?
Oh my god this just gets better and better.
“Not married. Amy refused to let her husband have access to her money, probably because he would’ve snorted it, but she left Alpha
and his guardian, Steve, in a cushy position.”
Amy Ridley and Adam Ward are my grandparents, both dead before I was born. My great grandparents no doubt were too. “So Alpha came into some dosh?”
Jude laughs like a madman. “Giles Ridley owned malls, property, estates, high rise empires, and hotel chains which include castles in Scotland and Croatia. He provided money laundering and safe haven to the elite, his brethren. He was born with a silver spoon. He’s old old money, so old it’s practically antediluvian. Your father is worth billions in gold bullion and pounds sterling. The term obscenely wealthy comes to mind.”
I’d never heard Alpha mention his mom Amy, never heard of her or Adam, or the Ridleys. He kept me ignorant of everything. I feel robbed. We grew up like his dirty little secret.
“The Darknet search I did pinged on the records of the attorneys Primrose and Keeft because they recently upgraded their records to digital backup. If Alpha dies you possibly stand to inherit an empire. They have a comprehensive list of assets to be bequeathed to his son on announcement and confirmation of his demise.”
“But not if I kill him?” I laugh hollowly.
“Sir Giles and Maude died when Alpha had just come of age. They singlehandedly handed him the means to build the world’s most evil empire,” says Jude.
“The last will and testament says son? Not sons?” I ask.
Seth was my brother and should’ve been included in his will, unless the will was compiled after Seth’s death. Still, I wasn’t alive, he didn’t know I wasn’t dead. Did he forget to update his will? His will would never just say son, it would say sons, surely? Unless he never planned to leave anything to Seth because he didn’t believe Seth was truly from his loins.
Would he be that cruel? Yup, I guess he would.
Jude stares at his screen, looking over the last will again. “It doesn’t name names which in itself is odd. Maybe they’re still updating their system? But yeah, it’s singular, not plural. One son inherits everything. I’m assuming that’s you, being his firstborn. He has a thing for firstborns.”
Swallowing down bile, I mutter, “He’ll give Seth my wife, but not his money? Go figure.”
My father sat on a fortune and denied me. He denied me so much! I didn’t have his love but having a privileged upbringing would’ve softened that blow.
I worked so hard all my life for a father who was never pleased. Alpha always handed out the money, but never was generous. He made sure I had just enough, always, to follow the plan as the first son and disciple of god, the first angel, and the favourite. We all know what happened to him.
The favourite falls because he sees through his father’s lies, he finally sees his dad is a madman, a narcissist who will do anything to destroy and be in the spotlight, to be all powerful, and to have his puppets on strings that only he can pull.
Lucifer – light bearer. The light of reason, the true love spirit, for when the god almighty starts to burn cities down because he no longer liked what folks were doing with their free will. He’d become a hypocrite, and Lucifer wasn’t having any of it – so all the other angels turned on him to cast him out of their circle.
Exactly what happened to me, and finally I know I am the sane one in a world overrun by evil men and false angels.
My spirit throbs in my skin, my chest tight. My father could’ve let me live a life of joy instead of suffering, and he chose not to. I was expendable. We all are. Life spent in service to insane directives means nothing. Just like the damn religion, you get to heaven only if you do as you’re told, riches after this life – not during it.
I need a moment and stare up at the light fitting, processing, assimilating this new intel. Everything I have I earned, I worked for it, I worked hard. This estate is one of many I procured as a surgeon and photographer. I sold drugs, manna, to pay for this. Manna paid for most of the things I treasure, including my army.
I’m heartbroken. I was the one who was supposed to break his heart, yet even when he is incapacitated he still has the power to reach out and pierce my soft tissue. I lived for his approval until the day he stood in front of me, looking me in the eyes while his minions carried out my execution.
Lemi sabachthani?
Father, why have you forsaken me?
What a terrible lie my life is built on.
“Just say the word and I’ll alert Interpol to his whereabouts, I’ll release the documents,” says Jude.
His tone is gentle, he can see through my bravado.
“And rob me of the final hours of his life? No way. I’ll end him. His reign is over.”
“When?” asks Jude.
“When he’s out of ICU and walking around again in his kingdom. He’s going to start plotting his comeback and my final plummet into the abyss. When he has that hope, that’s when we end him.”
The good news is that his time out of commissions gives Polina time to get out of danger herself. A part of me would like to come home from the bloodshed to a warm body and a little RnR.
Jude stands, giving me a curt nod, making his way to the door.
“I never knew him,” I say to Jude’s back. “I didn’t know the roots of my own tree. How could I think I could chop it down when I didn’t do my recon properly?”
Jude rounds on me, facing me, rage evident.
Uncharacteristically so.
“He hid it so well, Vic. None of us knew! I have access to his bank accounts, I have his passwords, I installed spyware on every one of his computers, every program has a back door, and even I didn’t know about any of this. You can’t knock yourself for this one, Vic. Just don’t!”
“Get details, Jude. I need details.”
He gives me the firm stare, the one meant to inflate my self confidence, then exits, leaving me alone in my shattered reality.
Without him I’m just a fool fumbling in the dark, denied pertinent intel, and thinking I’m powerful enough to throw god out of his own heaven.
Before the cock crows tonight you will say three times that you do not know me. I don’t. God’s own truth.
And in truth he doesn’t know me.
He never did. Not from the day he murdered my girlfriend by throwing her into the underground waterway on the farm.
I don’t know him.
~ Chapter 22 ~
Gracious words are like a honeycomb,
sweetness to the soul and health to the body.
~ Proverbs 16:24
Two Months Later
Polina:
IN MY HEAD play guitar, and fear finds its way back inside my bones. Mikah no longer play balalaika? He now play guitar?
Then I hear the sing. Mikah never sing, he pose, he strut, he swagger, but sing he no.
It is man though, soft and soothing, from far away like my ear presses to heaven’s door.
Does it?
Is Polina dead now?
It takes much courage to open eye, and I see only blurry light. Polina in heaven! I make it to good place!
Sagging with joy, tears run from eye, soaking cheek with itch, but heart is too glad. I told that hui that Polina is angel, he no believe me. Now look at Polina, she in safe place. No more hurt. Tear become big ugly sob, the relief so much beauty.
Spasibo! (Thank you!)
Beeping increase and Polina wonder if there be trucks in heaven.
The sing stop, the gentle thrum of music end.
Polina piss off the cherubs now. I really pray there no god of wrath up here. Polina so finished with wrath gods.
“Polina?” speaks to me, low and sexy, like the best drug.
Cry stop and Polina force eye open wide, still see nothing but the blur. “Victor? Is that you?” I choke, throat all in fire.
Maybe not heaven? Devil like music, da? Oh lord Polina in hell and not the heaven.
“It’s me,” he croons so near, my hand covered with warm hold. Oh Polina must be in the heaven. No way would Victor be in lake of fire.
Polina snatch hand back to side, worried
for him acting ugly. He no like that Polina wants to make nice with married man. He say he married and left when I make eyes at him. I need him stay, not leave.
I need him stay!
“What’s the matter?” he asks, closer now, light blocking into darkness.
Shiver skim Polina in cold, worried for deceit in unholy place. “Is not you,” I say gruff. Throat no work like should. Is not normal; like I eat the sand on side of road.
“It is me … hang on angel, let me get you some water.”
Something hard prod mouth, my lips so tender it hurts. I open, just, taking in straw, and want to fall off cliff in bliss for cool water. Is so good!
“Slowly, slowly. If you drink this too fast you’ll end up puking.”
Sure sounds like my Victor but Polina not believe lie. Can’t see him and can’t smell him. Victor has own scent, good memory scent, and Polina smell nothing but dust and new doll.
I make pain noise when straw go and no water comes for me. Fine, let’s get the fight over. Put me in lake of fire and be done with it. No play mind game with Polina because then you lose!
“You not Victor,” I state as fact. I lift chin even though no can see where pretend Victor be.
He laughs at Polina like he find me entertainment. Polina not stupid, let him laugh. Suka.
“Why don’t you think I’m me?” he asks, where I lay dips, his warm next to my thigh, his hand on mine again, knitting with Polina’s fingers.
“You no smell like him.”
“Do I look like him?” he asks, and Polina hear smile in voice.
“Polina can no see Victor. God still blinds her. In heaven no one can look at god. Also Victor be married and he no like to touch lady when he is married to wife, so you not Victor, you pretend to be him to test Polina.”
“I really love the way you say my name. Viktore. It’s very sexy, Polina.”
“See that!” I point in his general direction with empty hand, where voice speak. “Victor does not flirt with lady, ever. You not him. You gonna make him so mad and you not want that. Victor will break every inch of you for pretend to be him.”