He watched the cars passing by. And then it hit him; the solution. He pulled back into the doorway of the restaurant and counted his money. Better find a bank machine, just in case, he thought. And he set off down the street, keeping a eye out as he went.
* * *
A group of tourists milled around the fountain directly in front of the Peace Tower. One of them would occasionally glance at the well dressed man loitering near the edge of the pool, staring into the flame that danced in the middle of the gushing water.
Judge Hawkes glanced up at the clock on the Peace Tower. The large hands indicated that it was thirteen minutes past five o’clock. He sighed and glanced once again at the eternal flame floating almost magically above the water. The seconds ticked away and suddenly the bells in the tower chimed once to mark the quarter of the hour.
The judge turned away slowly from the fountain toward the street. “Ah well...” he muttered.
As he began to walk, a shout rang out through the crowd of tourists and the man spun quickly to his left. A boy was running toward him, leather jacket hanging off of his arms. He stopped in front of the judge and bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
Chris took a moment to catch his breath then looked up at the judge, who was smiling in seeming delight. “I...I made it,” Chris panted. The judge's smile widened.
“Indeed you did, Christopher. And in the nick of time too, Well done, young man, well done!”
The judge stepped back to the fountain and sat down on its edge. He motioned for Chris to do the same. “Catch your breath, Christopher. We'll talk in a moment.”
Chris sat down gratefully and wiped the sweat from his eyes with his sleeve. He breathed deeply for a few moments, took off his jacket to cool down and took the opportunity to look around at Parliament Hill.
There were dozens of people coming and going, taking pictures of the tower and the fountain. Hardly anyone glanced at the two of them sitting there, even though the sight of a man like the judge, who was wearing an impeccable suit, sitting on the side of a fountain with a sweaty kid in jeans and t-shirt must have seemed a bit odd.
He wondered why there were so many people milling around. What day was it anyway? Saturday maybe? Chris had no idea. He knew it was early May but that was about it.
Once he had caught his breath, Chris glanced at the judge, who smiled slightly.
“Can you speak comfortably now, Christopher?” the man asked.
Chris nodded and the judge continued. “Good. We don't have time now for a full accounting of your journey here, but I'm eager to hear about it. Right now, we have to get you somewhere safe.” He stood up. “So, if you'd like to follow me, we'll be off.”
Chris stood up. He was a little confused. “You mean we aren't safe here, sir? We're in the middle of a crowd on Parliament Hill!”
The judge gave a soft laugh at Chris' tone. “Crowds are not as safe as some people believe, young man. People can get close to you in crowds, overhear conversations, even do you harm and slip away unnoticed.” He looked around at the flocks of tourists. “No, crowds aren't really very safe at all. So please follow me, Christopher.”
The judge set off toward the street that passed to the south of the hill. Chris grabbed his jacket and followed him closely, watching the crowd nervously. He didn't see anyone with a tattoo on their cheek but it was hard to make out faces in the many groups of people around them.
As they approached the curb, a long black limousine pulled up in front of them. A man wearing a dark blue suit jumped out of the driver's seat, hurried around the car and opened the back door for the judge.
“In you get, Christopher,” the judge said and Chris ducked his head and slipped into the car.
Chris had never been in a limousine before and he was amazed at how big the inside was. There were two bench seats facing each other, several cabinets, two telephones and a lot of switches and electronic devices that he couldn't identify. There was a smell of leather and cigar smoke in the air that Chris found oddly comforting.
He sat down on the bench that faced the rear of the car and the judge slipped in and sat down across from him. The driver got back in and the car slid into traffic.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.
“We'll drive around the downtown core for a few minutes, Bennett,” the judge answered. “And then head for home. Let's see if we've picked up any friends today.”
The driver chuckled. “Yes sir,” he said.
Chris watched as the judge pulled his electronic pad from an inside pocket and started tapping on it.
“Um, sir?” Chris said hesitantly. The judge looked up at him. “I was wondering what you meant about picking up some friends?”
The judge looked amused. “We sometimes attract unwanted attention, Christopher. I don't know if you were followed or not, but I might have been. So we'll drive for a while and see if we can spot someone on our tail.”
“Oh,” Chris said. “I see. I'm pretty sure I wasn't followed, sir.”
The judge put down his pad and sat back, watching Chris intently. “Yes,” he said. “About that. I'd like to hear about your thrilling escape from Toronto, young man. I'm guessing that it couldn't have been easy.”
Chris stared at the man but he couldn't detect any sarcasm in the judge's voice, so he looked out the window at the passing cars and thought about the night before.
“No sir, it wasn't easy. At least, not at first.” He looked back at the judge. “Talon was everywhere, it seemed. At the bus station, the train station, the airport. Everywhere.” He hesitated. “I didn't realize there were so many of them.”
The judge grimaced. “Sometimes it feels like they out-number the grains of sand on a beach.”
“Who are they, your honor? I mean, really. They're more than just a gang of thugs, that's for sure.”
“Talon is...” The judge hesitated. “Talon is more than a bunch of street punks, Christopher. The members that you saw are merely street-level enforcers; cannon-fodder. They deal in drugs, extortion and other matters that bring in some money to the organization. But Talon is much more than that.” The man looked intently at Chris. “They are the largest group of killers and assassins in the world.”
Chris felt his jaw drop. Assassins? He shook his head. “I don't understand,” he said.
“I know you don't, Christopher,” the judge replied kindly. “And I think the explanation should wait until we reach a safer location. But you asked me who Talon is and that is the answer to your question.” With that, the judge nodded once, picked up his pad again and sat back in his seat.
Chris realized that the judge had said as much as he was going to at the moment, so he also sat back and watched the traffic, thinking about the mysterious Talon.
They have to have the wrong guy, was his first thought. Assassins wouldn't be chasing me. I'm nobody! Just a kid with no parents trying to get by. I mean sure, I have some money in the bank, but that can't be it. He thought harder. Maybe it has something to do with Mom and Dad? Something they were involved in? But Chris dismissed that idea immediately. His parents were teachers, educators. Both respected the law and would never do anything to attract the attention of killers like Talon; he was convinced of that.
He finally gave up trying to figure out Talon's motives. Hopefully the judge would tell him more when they got to wherever they were going.
He suddenly realized that the car was no longer just wandering around the downtown core. They seemed to be heading south and Chris remembered that the main highway out of Ottawa was located south of Parliament Hill. He continued to watch as the car finally turned on to an on-ramp and they sped up, joining traffic heading west out of the city.
The driver spoke up. “We're on the Queensway, your honor,” he said over his shoulder. “And our escort had joined us.”
“Yes, thank you Bennett,” the judge replied without looking up from his electronic pad.
“We have an escort?” Chris asked in sur
prise.
The judge sighed. “I'm afraid so, Christopher. Standard procedure these days.”
“Oh,” Chris said and sat up, trying to spot the escort in the cars traveling around them. But he couldn't find them among the mass of vehicles everywhere, so he finally sat back and relaxed. The last day was starting to take its toll and Chris found himself dozing in his seat, the sound of the judge's tapping on his device oddly relaxing.
How much time had passed, Chris never knew, but suddenly the car came to an abrupt stop and he sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes to try to wake up.
Outside of the car, night was falling. They had turned off of the paved road, which seemed to be a two-lane highway, on to a gravel lane. Chris saw a car ahead of them and, turning around to stare over the judge's shoulder, saw a second car behind them. All three vehicles were stopped and Chris watched as the judge peered through the growing gloom. The man was frowning slightly.
Just as Chris was about to ask what was going on, the judge's electronic pad chimed gently. The man tapped the screen and a voice spoke up.
“Your honor, we have a problem,” said a clipped, female voice.
“Yes Sarah, I noticed. What is it?” the judge asked.
“The gate just called, sir. Apparently we have a welcoming committee.”
The judge sat quietly for a moment and Chris heard him mutter something that sounded like “Naturally.” Then the man spoke aloud again.
“Thank you, Sarah,” he said. There was a click on the pad and then the judge tapped it several times. Chris was watching him closely and he could feel his own heart starting to pound.
A welcoming committee, he thought. What does that mean? An ambush maybe. Chris stared at the judge. Well, he thought, Judge Hawkes must be an important guy. Maybe he has enemies.
Chris' thoughts were interrupted again as he heard a ringing on the judge's pad. There was a click but no one answered.
“Ghost,” the judge said, speaking into the phone.
“Sir,” a voice answered. The tone was neutral and Chris couldn't decide if it was a man or a woman that spoke.
“We have uninvited guests between the main road and the house. Ask them to leave, would you?”
“Copy,” the voice said in the same tone and the phone clicked again. The judge sat back and looked over at Chris.
“It won't be long, Christopher,” he said in a reassuring tone. “Try to be patient.”
“Yes sir,” Chris answered. “Um, who is Ghost?”
The judge smiled. “Ghost is my head of security.”
“Oh. Okay.” Chris sat back again. He wanted to ask the man what was really going on, but somehow knew that the judge wouldn't tell him. So he waited, listening tensely for some sign that there was a fight or something going on outside of the brightness of the car's headlights. But Chris heard nothing beyond the purr of the engine and the continuous tapping of the judge's pad.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, Chris jumped as the pad chimed again.
The judge tapped it once and the voice of Ghost spoke up.
“Clear,” it said.
“Thank you, Ghost,” the judge said quietly.
“Sir,” Ghost replied and the phone clicked off.
“Bennett, signal the others and let's get going,” the judge said.
“Yes sir,” Bennett replied. Chris saw the driver flash his headlights and the car ahead began to move off slowly. As their car followed, Chris turned and saw the car behind them also begin to move.
The woods around them glowed eerily as the three cars slowly made their way along the gravel road. Chris kept looking around, wondering if he might be able to spot any signs of a struggle, but all that could be seen were closely packed trees and a lot of undergrowth. The cars weren't moving very quickly but as the minutes passed, Chris began to wonder just how far the house was from the road. And then the trees gave way to an open area and in the dying twilight, Chris turned around to see if they were close to their destination and gasped.
The gravel lane led across a very large, well -trimmed lawn and Chris saw what seemed to be a high stone wall. Two iron gates swung open as he watched and beyond was the largest house that Chris had ever seen. Or was it a castle? In the dwindling daylight it was impossible to tell.
Just inside the gates, two men in dark suits flanked the road. They nodded at the driver as the car passed them and entered a large courtyard. The two escort vehicles pulled away and Bennett turned the car in a slow circle until they had stopped in front of the huge building.
“We're here,” the judge said simply. He slipped his pad into his pocket and waited while the driver quickly got out of the car and ran around to open the door. “After you, Christopher,” the judge said and waved him out of the limo.
Chris stepped out of the car and moved to one side to make room for the judge. Then he looked around the courtyard.
The walls surrounding the yard were at least twelve feet high and there were lights glowing down every dozen yards or so. He could see several people scattered about; Chris thought that they looked like guards. He looked up at the building looming over him. It had to be at least three stories high.
As he was staring around in amazement, the judge exited the car.
“Welcome, Christopher,” the judge said and waved toward the building,”to the Hawkes Nest. My home.”
Chapter 4
The front door of the mansion opened as Chris and the judge approached it and another man in a dark suit welcomed them.
“Good evening, your honor,” he said and waved them inside.
“Evening, Preston,” the judge replied. “How are things?” They walked by the man and he closed the door behind them.
“All quiet, sir,” Preston answered. “The mayor called earlier. I told him you'd get back to him shortly.”
The judge smiled and nodded. “Yes, I'll do that.”
As the two men continued to talk, Chris looked around the area.
The entrance hall was very wide and the walls were covered with large paintings. When Chris examined several of them, he noticed that each one seemed to show some sort of religious theme. He saw paintings of angels, knights, armies with crosses on their flags and many other religious symbols. He wondered if the judge was some sort of religious fanatic.
The floor was made of very shiny dark wood and a wide ornate carpet led away from the door into the distance. He could smell pine cleaner. To the right, he noticed a desk with a computer and a young woman sitting behind it. When he caught her eye, she smiled and nodded. Chris felt himself reddened slightly as he nodded awkwardly back. The woman's smile broadened and then she went back to typing on the keyboard.
Chris jumped as the judge tapped him on the shoulder. “All set, Christopher?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Chris responded.
The judge gestured for Chris to follow him. The man who had greeted them went out of the front door and closed it quietly behind him.
As they walked down the long hallway, the judge glanced at Chris, who was still looking at the many paintings they were walking past.
“So, what do you think of the old place so far, Christopher?” he asked.
“Nice,” Chris said, a bit distracted. They passed several oak doors as they walked. One opened to a small sitting room with walls lined with books and several comfy-looking chairs scattered around. Chris looked up at the judge and waved at the paintings. “Are you a, um, very religious person, sir?” he asked hesitantly.
The man chuckled. “Not at all, Christopher,” he answered, to Chris' surprise. “But my ancestors were, well, not religious, but interested in the subject.” He stopped in front of one painting that showed a scene of battle between what Chris supposed were knights and demons. The demons seemed to be winning.
The judge stared at the picture but seemed to be thinking about something else. Finally he began to speak.
“The original Hawkes, my ancestor, came to Canada when Ottawa
was still called Bytown. He was a scholar and wanted a place of solitude to pursue his studies.” The judge glanced down at Chris. “The story is that he had a falling out with some people at court and found it more...convenient to move some distance away.” The judge sounded amused and then went back to staring at the painting.
“His older brother allowed my ancestor to take his inheritance when he left; they were very close. And, for whatever reason, he decided to move here. I imagine the local populace thought him quite mad when he started building this place.”
“But why would they think that?” asked Chris curiously.
“You may not know this, Christopher, but two hundred years ago, this was nothing but wilderness. Imagine the people that lived here back then. They were lumbermen mainly, some were traders and trappers. And then a nobleman arrived and announced that he needed workers to build a mansion in the forest, hours from the nearest settlement.” The judge let out a bark of laughter. “I think that the only reason they didn't lock him up was because of the money he was offering. But he managed to hire willing workers and they spent several years building the place. I believe it took a month or more just to cut a road through the forest to get to the site.” The man began walking again slowly down the hallway. Chris followed closely.
“Every one of the Hawkes born here since has added to the structure, including myself. And here we are, the Nest as it is today.”
The hallway opened up into a huge round room surrounded by a balcony. Two half-circle staircases led upward from the left and right. Chris saw several people walk quickly through the room, heading in various directions.
The judge stopped and looked around. Chris stared at the ornate walls covered with more paintings and wood carvings and then remembered his original question.
“So if you and your ancestors aren't religious then why...?” and he gestured at the paintings.
Judge Hawkes chuckled again. “The original Hawkes was fascinated by religious history, Christopher. Although he wasn't religious per se, he was interested in how religions originated, how they changed over time, that sort of thing. Once this house was built, he spent many years traveling the world, speaking to religious leaders, exploring old ruins and the like.”
Confronting the Fallen Page 3