As the man from Finance walked into the Biolance building, Joseph retrieved a clean cup and filled it with the man’s favorite brew.
“Good morning, sir,” Rosie said brightly.
“Good morning. How are you today?”
“I’m very well, thank you. And... um...,” Rosie suddenly didn’t know how to proceed with their plan.
Joseph stepped in, “We’ve come across some information that we thought you might find useful.”
“You get straight to the point, don’t you?”
“Well, we thought you might not have time...,” Joseph’s voice trailed off as he grappled for the right words.
The man looked from Joseph to Rosie and shrugged coolly.
“What information do you have? And what does it have to do with me?” he said.
“Uh, it’s... sensitive,” Rosie explained as he handed him a folded piece of paper.
The man took the note, unfolded it succinctly and looked back at his new friends. Rosie could feel the sweat running from her armpits as she returned the man’s stare. Glancing at the note one more time, the man nodded and walked away.
THE 118th floor of Biolance headquarters was renowned among the employees as the most frightening place in the building. It was where careers were made or broken. Today, it was also where Rosie and Joseph were headed after their shift. As the elevator climbed to the 118th floor, Joseph glanced at Rosie. She returned the worried look before going back to concentrating on the climbing red numbers on the panel above the elevator doors. As soon as the elevator pinged ‘118’, they stepped out and were greeted by a well-groomed man sitting behind a counter. He immediately stood up and led them to a door marked ‘1’.
‘1’, Rosie thought, not Dr. Temba or Dr. Zack Temba. Just ‘1’.
The well-groomed man knocked briefly on the door and then opened it.
“Dr. Temba, your five-thirty appointment is here,” he said, then waved them in, closed the door behind them and disappeared.
Rosie looked around at the white office, her hands shaking as she twisted her fingers into knots. The desk -behind which sat a tall, white-haired man dressed in an expensive black suit and white shirt- was carved out of marble. In fact, that seemed to be the theme for the entire room. Everything, even the stationery, was in white. Dr. Temba waved the two caterers to two white chairs at the other side of his desk and opposite him.
“Please. Sit,” he said as he motioned to the chairs.
Joseph and Rosie sat down quietly, not wanting to speak until they were allowed to.
“I’m Zack Temba,” the white-haired man said. “Tell me who you are.”
Rosie stuttered as she tried to remember her own name. Thankfully, Joseph was already saying his name and reciting his genealogy.
Zack Temba raised his hand to stop Joseph’s rambling, “Just your name, please. And you are?”
“Rosie. I’m Rosie.”
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you both,” Zack Temba said cordially.
A smile spread across his face, knitting his white brows together.
“And what brings you to the 118th floor?”
Joseph was about to say ‘you called for us’ when Rosie started, “We have something you might be interested in. We know who really killed Maximilian Moreau.”
“Do you? And Maximilian Moreau is... was your father?”
Zack Temba gestured towards Rosie. The whole thing seemed to amuse him in some way, as if he was watching a delectable drama unfolding before his eyes.
Rosie swallowed her pride and continued, “Yes. He was murdered by a Keeper as you know. But not by Sergeant John Howard.”
“Really?” Zack Temba raised an eyebrow. “Then who dunnit?”
“It was—-.”
Zack Temba held up his hand, instantly silencing Rosie.
“That’s not how you negotiate, young lady.”
He paused and folded his hands on the table in front of him.
“You want something from me, don’t you?”
Rosie cast a sideways glance at Joseph, who nodded.
“Yes, I’d like something from you,” Rosie admitted.
Zack Temba nodded, “Then you should tell me what it is first before you lay all your cards on the table. Once I know what you want, I can tell you whether I care enough to exchange your information for that price.”
“I’m not talking about money,” Rosie said.
“Neither am I,” Zack Temba smiled mysteriously.
Rosie couldn’t decide whether he was joking or not. But she leaned towards ‘not’ -just to be on the safe side.
“Ok. Well, I want to punish the man who killed my father.”
“And?”
“That’s all.”
“That can’t be all. You’re asking for too little. If your information is valuable, why wouldn’t you ask for more?”
“I don’t want anything else.”
“Then leave my office right now.”
“But——.”
“Little girl, do you really think revenge is enough?”
“It’s enough for me.”
“Will it bring your father back?”
“N-no.”
“Will it restore your mother to how she was before all this happened?”
“How do you know she’s—-?”
“I’ve lived many lives in one, little girl. I know what death can do to people. Now answer my question.”
“No, it won’t take her back to being who she used to be. Nothing will ever be the same again.”
“And for all that pain, you want to punish one man? And only that?”
“No.”
“No? What else do you want, Rosie?”
“I want you to help me punish the Keepers. I want to expose them for the useless frauds they are. I want to show the world that Purpose can be found through taking the opportunities given to us, instead of wishing upon some supernatural beings to save us—-.”
Only then did Rosie notice Joseph gripping her wrist below the desk. But Zack Temba was already smiling his approval.
“For that price and that price alone, I am willing to hear this... information.”
As Rosie released herself from Joseph’s grip, she said, “Lieutenant Nick Blade killed my father.”
Chapter 13
Blade raised the teacup to his lips and sipped thoughtfully. A sense of calm enveloped him as he thought about how well his plan had worked out. Even if John tried to contest the murder charge held against him, no one would listen to him now. It was done. Sergeant John Howard had already been branded a traitor and there was no coming back from that. Blade had personally stripped John of his position and rank, holding back the pangs of guilt that threatened him. But now, as he sat in his home, peace reigned supreme.
He leafed through his copy of the book of Rules and Morals, the handbook all Keepers lived by.
Thou shalt not smite a Journeyman, the act of which shall result in exile, the stripping of abilities and shame for all eternity.
The words swam in front of his face, seeming unreal and unrelated to him. He had solved his predicament but he did not know what would happen to him now that they had an innocent man in custody. He knew that the elements would gradually turn on the Keepers in a bid to give the culprit an opportunity to come forward on his own. But no one had ever told him what would happen if the culprit still chose not to come forward. And no Keeper had ever been stubborn enough to try and find out what would happen -until now.
As Blade peered at his reflection in the tea, he frowned at the image that looked back at him. He thought about the lessons he had been taught at school about protecting the Journeymen from self-destruction. He thought about how he, as a Keeper, was meant to maintain a high standard of goodness and virtue in a world that rewarded ambition and evil. He probed the philosophies that had been drilled into him from when he was a boy. Why should it be his burden to look after a race that was hell-bent on destroying itself? What could he do as one member of a
race that was given power which could not be used to destroy anything? For the duration of the war, the Keepers had benefitted from carrying out acts of sabotage that hindered Zack Temba and his cronies at Biolance. But all that only resulted in a stalemate. The Keepers had based their side of the war on defensive tactics. From the beginning, it had been a losing game. The younger Keepers were even beginning to question what their powers were for? Why bother with holding up pointless rules and morals that always put them in a disadvantage? And for what? To protect a group of people that was proving to be utterly ungrateful for all the Keepers had done for them?
Maximilian Moreau was the first Journeyman to come to his doorstep with complaints but the spies from Savvy regularly brought back reports of discontent from their covert missions in Metz. No doubt, he would not be the last. But for now, for today, Blade felt secure and resolved to enjoy it while it lasted.
He got up from his cup of tea -that had grown cold as he stared into it- and went off for a soak in his bathtub. As he stepped into the milky-white hot water, a warm feeling crept through his body and he happily sunk into the bathtub. His back had only just pressed against the tub when he felt the tingling of an urgent telepathic message entering his brain.
The signal was from none other than Zack Temba -one time friend, all time nemesis. It was a moving picture, a time stamped image of Blade kneeling in front of Maximilian Moreau’s grave. The image shifted as Blade lay himself down next to the grave, sobbing uncontrollably, ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to kill you.’
Short, rapid breaths began to escape through Blade’s lips as he processed the image. There was evidence that he had killed Maximilian Moreau and visited his grave shortly after the fact. Blade felt the heat drain out of his body as it dawned on him that his arch-enemy finally had him in his evil clutches. How had he let this happen?
Blade ran through all the scenarios of how the Journeyman’s fateful last night had unfolded. Surely, nothing could have been done differently. He had only tried to restrain a hysterical, broken man. He had done what needed to be done in that moment. Blade ran through his litany of excuses, until he realized that no amount of excusing himself would get him out of the hole he had dug for himself. The only way for his secret to remain hidden was for Blade to cooperate with Zack Temba. And what did Zack Temba want in return for keeping the secret? There was only one way to find out.
Ten minutes later, Blade walked somberly out of Château de Confiance.
ZACK TEMBA STOOD IN his office, looking through the glass walls at the city of Metz. He watched the traffic as the educated snaked their way through the streets in their cars, headed for the next appointment. The sun had dipped into the earth as Zack Temba waited for the one appointment that was not on his schedule. He couldn’t remember a day when he was more pleased with himself. In one fell swoop, he had found a way to rid himself of the Keepers -all because of one helpless Journeyman and his daughter. Oh, the irony, he thought to himself.
Finally, he heard the ding of the elevator echoing through the quiet suite. It was time. He turned towards the approaching footsteps and waited, his hands behind his back. The doorknob clicked and Lieutenant Blade walked in. The two men stood facing each other. Minutes passed as they studied each other, appreciating the power that emanated from the other.
“And to think I’m about to strip you of it all,” Zack Temba said under his breath.
“Get to the point, Zack. I’m in no mood for your beating about the bush.”
“I know you killed Maximilian Moreau.”
“I know you know that. That’s why I’m here. What do you want?”
“Just thought I’d rub it in. You have a Journeyman’s blood on your hands. And I know about it.”
Blade went over to a white chair and sat down.
“I’ll just wait here until you’re done with your victory dance.”
Zack Temba arched an eyebrow, “Oh, so that’s that then? You’re willing to do whatever is necessary to keep your standing—-?”
“I’ve said no such thing.”
“Oh, I love this game.”
“Zack...”
“Alright, alright. How’s Dana, by the way?”
Blade could feel the tears stinging his eyes, “It’s Captain Reeves to you.”
“Right. Well, send her my love will you?”
Zack sat down opposite Blade, clasping his hands together between his knees.
“How did you end up this way, Zack? You used to have so much hope in humanity. We grew up together for goodness’ sake and yet here we are on opposite sides of the spectrum.”
“What spectrum is that? Good versus evil?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Well, that’s simple. There was a vacuum. Someone had to fill it.”
“You mean someone had to step in as the fallen angel after the last villain was defeated. Why should there be a villain at all?”
Zack Temba leaned forward in his chair, pretending to think hard.
“To keep things interesting,” he shrugged. “To keep things honest.”
“Honest?” Blade scoffed.
“You know why Keepers live separate from Journeymen? Why they’re not advised to be close to the very creatures they protect?” Zack Temba asked.
“Of course I do. Because the Journeymen follow a different set of rules. Where we believe in community, they believe in ambition. They value ego over temperance, power over peace. You can’t blame them for that. It’s their nature.”
“And we as Keepers have been appointed since the beginning of time to protect them from their nature, from destroying themselves. Living with them would pollute us. I’m an example of that,” Zack Temba added.
“Right,” Blade nodded.
“And yet here you are, having gone against your Purpose. You’ve adopted their nature.”
“No-no, I haven’t. It was a mistake—-.”
“A mistake?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, is that how it happened?”
“Yes! He kept asking me what I was doing about his situation. He wanted help for his family, accused me of ‘sleeping on the job’. It was a silly argument, really. He got angry. I tried to calm him down. And he pushed me away so hard that he tripped over something, fell forward and hit his head. I tried to help him up but, as soon as he was on his feet again, he lunged at me. Then I punched him -just to stun him and make him stop. He fell down again. Cracked his skull this time. He was dead within seconds. There’s nothing I could do,” Blade was sobbing hysterically.
“Except cover it up and let someone else take the fall for what you did.”
“I had no choice!”
Zack shook his head slowly, sitting back in his chair triumphantly.
“And that, my dear Blade, is a lie. You see. You have spent your days convincing yourself you and evil are at opposite ends of the spectrum. I, on the other hand, I’ve embraced my true self. The good and the bad -just as Journeymen do. We all live for power and domination, Blade. In our own ways. Big or small. You’d rather betray one of your own than lose your power. What does that say about you and your nature?”
Blade had no words. He simply sat in his chair, taking in the magnitude of his sins. Zack Temba tapped him on the knee casually.
“I’m all talked out. You know what happens now. You’ve already let poor Sergeant Howard pay for your crime. I know you wouldn’t mind going a step further. Help an old friend in the process. From now on you report to me. Your allegiance is to Captain Dana Reeves and to me, as well. Keep it together. Stay on her good side. Hand over any valuable information you have about her and her team of lap dogs at the end of every week. I’ll assign you a handler.”
Blade still said nothing. He knew he had reached a point of no return. It was either he sold his soul to Temba now or found his way back to Espérer to admit to all and sundry what he had done. Do the right thing at the price of his identity, his abilities and being forced into exile. Or be a slave to Zack Te
mba and his cronies for the rest of his days.
“Do you understand?” Zack Temba probed.
In a split second, Blade made his decision.
“Yes.”
Epilogue
Espoirs Brisés Prison
Cell No. 2129
12 October 2050
To my Dana,
I write as a man who once stood at Hope’s door, calling for entrance. I am an innocent who still believes in Hope, in a world where there is little or none at all. Perhaps it is all a pipe dream.
I ask you, Dana, to reconsider your position. You asked me to promise you my honesty. I did. And I kept my promise. You have placed your bet on the wrong man. I beg you to look into my case one more time.
Or at least delay the trial. Once enough time has gone by you will see that things will keep getting worse. There’ll be worse storms and hotter days. People will have to stay at home because of the foul weather and the abilities of the Keepers will grow dimmer and dimmer as long as the wrong person is held responsible for this crime. You have to keep looking for whoever did this because if you don’t find the real culprit, we will all pay for the oversight. We will be left powerless to protect the Journeymen from Zack Temba.
And be careful of those around you because, if they fail to pin this on me, they might choose another scapegoat: someone who may have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or someone who they’d like to get rid of. Find out who ‘they’ are before they destroy you.
Take care of yourself. I love you always.
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