"Wait. President Tomlinson? I thought he was Acting President."
"He has been sworn in as of three days ago. The government decided that the country needed a president, and waiting to see if Fleur miraculously showed up after that plane crash was outvoted. Fleur has been declared dead. Officially. There is no longer any searching going on for him. Instead, the FBI is launching a manhunt to find the Mana Glen boys. Anyway, you are to dine with Tomlinson and Annette Fleur, chat, drink some wine, and ensure that everyone is enjoying themselves. Then, when dinner has concluded, you are to leave this bag under the table where the Secret Service cannot see it. You will exit Mr. Tomlinson's home, enter the car we will leave for you, then drive back to Memphis. You have a hotel room already booked for you on the way, the details to which will be sent to the GPS in the car. You are to talk to no one else, make no other stops, under any circumstances. If anyone asks what what the bag is, you are to tell them that it is a medical device needed for a recent issue you have discovered. I'll leave those details up to you."
Dean glared at Shay. "What's in the bag?"
"That is not for you to know. You are only the messenger. Do this without asking any more questions and we will release your daughter."
"Where are my sons? Do you have them too?"
"Lance and Nathan Terringer. They are also in that photograph."
He couldn't have been serious. "No. You? You adopted them?"
"Do I look that old? They are not my sons, but my brothers. They are inquisitors just like me, serving the Inquisition in order to keep history pure."
The car veered off the road and into a field of matted dry grass where a black private jet sat surrounded by unmarked white SUVs. Inquisitors in white robes with red masks to hide their faces stood at the ready beside their vehicles with assault rifles in hand. This was something straight out of the action movies Dean used to watch with his wife after they got the children in bed. He had always wanted to be the hero in one, but now that glamour had worn off. This was enough excitement to last him a lifetime . . . if he lived any longer.
Once Shay parked the car, two inquisitors approached and yanked Dean out of his seat. With iron grasps around his arms, they half-dragged him across the crunching grass and up the steps into the plane. The fragrance of flowers hit his nose. It was one he remembered from somewhere before, somewhere he never wanted to be again. His wife's funeral.
"Sit."
Dean did as he was told, clutching the bag and its mystery contents in his lap. He looked around the plane at the four men in white robes with red stoles who were eyeing him while drinking wine in their leather chairs. Two fat orange and white koi fish swam through the bubbling aquarium built into the ceiling, solid gold chalices filled with wine sat on the top of the nearby serving cabinet, and fresh-cut lilies filled the space with a funeral fragrance.
Was Dean heading to this death? Were those stark white flowers some sort of premonition? An omen? A sign of his fate at the hands of the crazed cultists?
For what seemed like days, Dean held onto the bag and watched the clouds through the window as they sped high above them. With the sunset, they blended into oranges and pinks like a bowl of sherbet. Time blurred together into one mass of twisted anxiety inside Dean's stomach. Every stitch he had sewn into the fabric of his new life was coming unraveled, inch by inch. It frayed between his hands, but he could not bond it together quickly enough to save it. Soon, it would be nothing but scraps of cloth and broken threads.
He was lost in his thoughts when he felt the plane land, snapping Dean back into reality.
One of the inquisitors took a garment bag out of a closet and held it out to him expectantly. "We're here. Put this on. They are waiting for you, so hurry it up."
Dean took the garment bag and removed the pressed white suit with the red shirt and matching pocket square, setting the package aside momentarily. He scowled at the inquisitors who continued to stare at him while he changed clothes. He caught a glimpse of himself in the glare of the window, hardly recognizing himself after a week in jail. He already looked leaner, gaunt, and scraggly, but a quick comb through his bangs made a marked improvement. He stepped into the black loafers then flinched when one of the inquisitors took him by the arm and escorted him out of the plane and onto an empty rural runway.
Only small blinking lights stood out against the black veil of an early winter evening. The wind bit through his suit jacket, but Dean was already sweating from nervousness. Heavy snow clouds drifted in front of the full moon, casting eerie specters across the tarmac. He flinched with the sound of a rifle being readied behind him, so he paused and waited for instructions. A back full of bullets wouldn't help his children or anyone else.
"Get in the car."
Dean clutched the bag close to his chest as he descended the steps and marched to his unknown fate in the unmarked white SUV that was waiting for him. An inquisitor with sunglasses opened the back door for him and waited until he had slid onto the heated leather seat before shutting the door.
The driver with a red goatee peered back at him through the rear-view mirror. His melodic voice flowed over the quiet hum of the engine as he drove onto a long lonely road. "Nathan and I are engaged. I thought you should know that. We plan to get married next Christmas. If this goes well, I want you to come."
"Nathan? My Nathan?"
"Yes, sir."
He had to know. "How is he?"
"He's kind, caring, and my best friend. We do everything together. You should know something else, sir. Nathan talks about you all the time. You might think he forgot about you, but he never did. He told me we had to wait to tie the knot until you could be there for it. He misses you so much."
Dean bit down on his lip and stared out the tinted window at the blurring streetlight while they drove through a small town towards D.C.. He had missed so much. Little Nathan, his middle child, had been the sweetest boy any parent could ask for. Hearing about him all grown up and in love made Dean tear up, but he did his best to hide it. Now was not the time to be put off-guard.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm Brad, by the way. Bradly Chaucer. Yeah, like the author. Oh, and Lance? Nathan's older brother? He's one of the Inquisition's brutes."
"Brutes?" Dean asked, meeting eyes momentarily with the driver in the mirror.
"They're sometimes called enforcers or tanks. They're the ones who guard HQ or make people comply with rules and orders. Lance is a special one, though. He's the executioner. That's his title and he makes good on it."
"He kills people?"
"Only the ones who deserve it. They're not usually bad people, sir. It's a position of power and honor to be the official executioner. I know you don't understand our ways yet, but you will. We just want to preserve history so that the future will be the way it was intended to be, without interference from Chronomancers and their magic."
"And what of Faith?" Dean asked. "What about my daughter?"
"I'm afraid I can't speak on that matter, sir."
"Of course you can't. Can you tell me the truth about something else, though?"
Bradley sighed loudly. "If I'm allowed, I will, sir."
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Sir?"
"The Inquisition." Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Is the Inquisition going to kill me?"
"Not unless you fail this mission. If you do not fulfill the requirements, you will face the executioner back at HQ."
"My son. Lance is going to kill me?"
"Sir, I think it's best if you focus on the mission. Whatever happens in case of failure is an extreme circumstance. Don't be worried with that. If you accomplish the mission, then you will have nothing to worry about. We're almost there, sir."
Bradley turned onto a side road that took them towards the inviting glow of President Tomlinson's estate set back in the sparse forest of the dark countryside. As he drove, tiny snowflakes pelted the windshield where they lingered for a moment before melting away
.
On any other night, Dean would have on the edge of his seat with excitement to see two of his best friends, crack open some beers, and grill steaks behind the mansion like they used to do once a month with Nolan. That was back before the primaries and the election. The four of them would talk for hours and get drunk playing card games and Monopoly until someone got angry and tipped the board over. Then they would watch television until the early morning sun rays trickled in through the stained glass windows and they loaded up in Nolan's car to go eat breakfast at the diner down the road that served the six stack of chocolate banana pancakes with the whipped cream.
But now, Nolan was gone. Only Annette and Gin waited for him, hosting a dinner that Dean had no part in orchestrating. The bag rested heavy on his lap, a constant reminder of his unknown purpose in this mission he wanted nothing to do with. This was the first time coming to Gin's house after Nolan's disappearance, and already the detective felt the heavy veil of mourning hanging over the place. The feeling of loss and emptiness only grew when the car pulled up into the ovular driveway and stopped.
"Get out and act normal. It's just a dinner party with friends. Good luck, sir."
"Thanks, I guess. Can you deliver a message for me? Tell Nathan I love him and that I never stopped."
"I will, sir. But if you complete this mission, you will be able to tell him yourself soon enough."
The marble walls, ivy-laced columns, and glittering garden fountains in the shape of pudgy cherubs greeted Dean as he stepped out of the car with the bag slung over one shoulder. Even the air smelled different there than in Mana Glen. This was crisp linen, lavender, and the slightest hints of green apple on the breeze instead of the fried food, car exhaust, and cigarette smoke of back home. Dean watched the car drive away as a few tiny snowflakes flew around him, signaling an approaching storm. He held onto the bag then meandered through the garden of sculpted cedar topiaries and stone paths lined with circular solar lights.
"Dean!"
He looked up at the entrance where Annette Fleur was waving at him, her platinum blonde hair gently catching in the wind and tousling over her shoulders that the glittering blue evening gown left bare. He joined her at the top of the steps and hugged her, his face tingling when the white fur of her collar brushed against his stubble. "It has been far too long."
"I agree. You're looking well, better than we feared, anyway, with everything happening down in Tennessee. Come inside and out of this dreadful weather. Gin is already waiting in the dining room."
Dean took Annette's arm then strolled with her around the tan stucco walls, below tall arches and vaulted ceilings lined with blue and red stained glass that sent columns aglow across the grand staircase in the main hall. Two black marble fireplaces crackled, one on either side of the long burgundy rug that stretched from the double doors to the chestnut and pale pink dining room at the other end. Dean paused momentarily in front of the dining room entrance to size up one of the suits of Medieval plate armor that stood guard on wooden pedestals next to giant clay vases with Grecian artwork scrawled on their rotund bellies.
The grey-haired yet always handsome Gin called from the heavy maple table, waving away the muscular Secret Service man in the black suit who stood menacingly in the doorway. "Ah, there he is. Dean, you're looking well. One of you agents make yourself useful and take my guest's bag."
Dean backed away from the agent whose eyes were hidden behind thick sunglasses, even inside. "Uh, no, actually . . . I need it. I had something of a medical emergency."
Annette covered her mouth with her perfumed hand. "Diabetes? Is that one of those monitor bags? They have those, right? I think my mother did."
"Annette, I think it's better not to pry into the man's personal life." Gin smoothed the front of his cherry red plaid suit jacket that made him look rounder than he was. "It could be something that he does not feel comfortable discussing, especially not at dinner."
Dean was grateful for the help. The less he had to explain about the bag, the better. "Yes, thank you, Gin. I'm still coming to terms with it and it's a bit of a raw subject."
"You don't have to apologize or explain yourself. You do what you need to do and know that we are your biggest supporters, no matter what."
"Is it life threatening?" Annette, asked, taking his arm and leading him to his seat at the table across from her. "Is it serious?"
"Nothing like that. You don't have to worry."
Once Dean was seated and the bag was at his feet, Gin leaned over from his seat at the head of the table and placed his hand on his arm. "We're glad that you wanted to come by while you were in town, Dean."
"Thank you for having me. Surely such finery wasn't necessary among friends. Whatever happened to ordering wings and cracking open some beers?"
Annette took a glass of glittering champagne from the butler in the navy blue suit. "We heard you got into a bit of trouble in Memphis and were bailed out. I'm sure this is a welcome change from jail food."
"Welcome indeed. And before you hear about the charges against me, I think you deserve to hear my side of the story."
Gin chuckled. "Not to worry, old chap. We heard everything from Chief Daniels. That secretary of yours dared to say such awful things about you? No one believes it, at least no one who matters. That's one of the reasons I wanted you here tonight. Any legal fees you may incur, I will pay them. And you'll have my lawyer to defend you, not one of those public defenders who could care less about your innocence."
Dean gasped, but he took the glass that was offered to him, despite his surprise. "That is too kind of you. I am afraid I have to decline."
"Nonsense. You don't have a choice, Dean. It's a done deal now. I will not have Nolan's best friend live in a cage for the next few years. Besides, Annette would kill me if I did."
Annette's baby blue eyes sparkled in the light from the candles in the crystal candelabras on the table. "We both care dearly about you, Dean. Gin isn't as close to you as Nolan was, but you should hear the way he talks about you. Those fantasy football leagues you two did meant the world to him."
"Annette, you're making me blush." Gin sipped his champagne. "But yes, I'm afraid it's true. Any friend of Nolan's is a friend of mine. He was a wonderful man."
Dean picked up his champagne glass and held it over the table. "To Nolan."
"To Nolan."
In order to keep his composure, Dean focused on the butler who brought over the plates of food and set them on the lace tablecloth in front of the three of them. The glistening meat, whipped potatoes, and bacon-wrapped asparagus made his mouth water. When the basket of freshly-baked rolls joined the spread with the crystal dish of honey butter, he could have sworn he was in heaven. It had been far too long since he had a meal that didn't come from a jail cafeteria or a box in the freezer.
He realized that he was starving, but his stomach was too upset to make him think about eating a bite. "This looks marvelous."
"And it is. My new chef is the absolutely most talented cook in all of D.C.. Ramey is actually going to cater our wedding in April."
Dean placed his lace-edged napkin in his lap and twisted the corners in his fingers. "Wedding?"
"Gin!" Annette playfully slapped his arm. "I thought we were going to keep that a secret."
They were serious. He looked between the two of them with nothing but surprise in his eyes. "Congratulations, you two. Wow. I . . . that's . . ."
Annette sighed, tucking her bangs behind her diamond-studded ears. "It's soon. We know. But Nolan told me that he wanted me to be happy and to find someone to love me and take care of me if anything ever happened to him. Gin was there for me when I was grieving. He made me feel a bit better. We just clicked. Of course, we had been friends for years, but never thought of each other in a romantic light."
"Well, I wish you both all the joy in the world."
"Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me. I was so afraid that you wouldn't approve, being so soon after Nolan's death."
<
br /> He could never be angry at her. "No . . . no. I'm glad you were able to move on. It's good to see you smiling."
"Don't think any less of my, Dean. I was loyal to Nolan until the end."
"Of course. I wouldn't have thought anything different."
Dean watched them eat, two of his only friends, their smiling faces and happiness. He listened to their laughter as they told him about an incident involving shaving cream in the Oval Office. They were full of life and love for each other, but he felt removed from it. He was a lonely puzzle piece whose edges were chipped so he could no longer fit with them. Then there was the bag.
Dean had been around far too many criminal cases to not have his ideas of what could have been inside. Laundered money? Drugs? Firearms? Were they trying to smuggle something or set the president up and frame him? Was this some partnership between the Inquisition and the other political parties who were upset that someone from the newly-established People's Mercy Party had won?
Nolan had broken many long-standing records with his landslide victory over both the Democratic and Republic candidates after wooing the middle class with his common sense, charismatic speeches, and a true love for his country. But his running mate was not as beloved. Without Nolan's silver tongue to sway Congress, the sometimes awkward and antisocial Gin Tomlinson was enraging voters on a near daily basis. Together, Nolan and Gin were a beautiful political team. Apart, the entire People's Mercy Party became some kind of bad joke fit for newspaper cartoons.
Hailed as the party between the others, the People's Mercy Party gained support from both sides that were tired of their parties letting them down. Nolan ran on the principals of freedom for all religions, ethnicities, and sexual orientations. He promised reformation of the healthcare system to allow people to have healthcare that they needed while not forcing anyone to buy something they didn't want. He promised business growth, improved overseas relations, and a stronger military. He promised women's rights, conservation of national parks, and a reform of the welfare system so money went to the people who truly needed it. Nolan took on both sides and attempted to balance them, but only a year after the election, Gin was sworn in and took his place after the crash.
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