A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

by S. E. Meyer

  “You're breaking up the musketeers?” Anna asked.

  “He can only bring down two of us. You'll have to fend for yourself until we get back.”

  “Good luck,” Anna said as George led Isabelle and Jax from the ballroom.

  “We need to get to the servants' area, fewer eyes,” George whispered.

  He led them down a long hallway that branched in two directions. They veered right and stopped in front of a large wood door. George peered down the hall, making sure they weren't noticed before ushering them through the door and down a long staircase.

  There were two guards at the landing in front of another long hallway. “George, what are you doing down here?” the guard on the left asked.

  “Bringing down your replacements. They're new and needed an escort.”

  “Little early,” the guard on the right replied with a raised eyebrow.

  “Who cares, I'm hungry,” the guard on the left argued. “All the sooner we can get some free food and drinks upstairs.” He turned to Jax. “Good luck with your shift. Boring as shit down here,” he finished with a laugh as the two men climbed the stairs.

  As soon as they left, George led Isabelle and Jax down the hallway to another door. “Okay, this is it,” he whispered. “The main electronics room,” he announced, opening the door. Isabelle shuddered in response to the air conditioning, cooling the racks of equipment.

  “Wow,” Jax said, his jaw swinging low. “Eight-hundred and sixty-four strand fiber. That's a fat pipe.”

  “That's the dedicated main line to MediaCorp. There's ten more just like it connected to all the ISP's and phone companies,” George explained.

  “You're like a kid in a candy store,” Isabelle teased.

  “It's the computer geek in me,” replied Jax. He shook his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “What I could do with a system like this.” Fishing the equipment from his outfit he awed at the hardware surrounding him. “Okay, let's see here,” he said, pulling out a small battery powered screwdriver as he walked along the rows of racks. “Here we are.” Jax removed two panels and rerouted several wires through the small box he brought.

  “Are you almost finished?” George asked. “We're running out of time.”

  “Just a few more connections,” Jax replied. “Why? Aren't we safe down here?”

  “No,” George replied, shaking his head. “The actual guards coming to replace the two we sent upstairs will be here soon. And they always check every room at the start of each shift,” he explained.

  “There, all done,” Jax announced, replacing the panels.

  “Good, let's go.” George urged.

  They jogged halfway down the long hallway before Isabelle stopped. Hand over her mouth, she gasped, peering through the door ajar on her right. She pushed the door open revealing Damarion lying on a gurney, connected to several tubes and wires. Isabelle bored holes into George with her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me my dad was here,” she growled.

  George's eyes widened. “I honestly had no idea. They must have brought him down recently, and I never come down here.”

  George winced. “That's the Chamber room.”

  Isabelle entered the room. “We have to get him out of here,” she demanded.

  “Izzy, we don't have time,” George replied.

  “That's my father,” she yelled, pointing at Damarion while shooting a scathing look towards Jax and George. “We can't just leave him here. He's being tortured,” she argued. “Come on, help me,” she pleaded, fiddling with the tube in Damarion's arm.

  George moved toward Isabelle and grabbed her arm. “Isabelle, I'm sorry, but we can't get caught down here. Cornelius will have us filling the three empty beds next to him and what good will that do?”

  “We can't just leave him!” Isabelle argued, raising her shaking hands.

  Jax froze. “Shh,” he said. “I hear footsteps.”

  “What's going on in here?” a guard demanded as he entered the room with his gun drawn. Another guard followed behind him. He recognized George and smiled. “You don't belong in here. I think Cornelius will be very interested to know what you're up to creeping around the Chamber. Let's go find out,” he finished, motioning with the barrel of his gun to leave the room.

  ◆◆◆

  Scanning the crowd Anna leaned against the far wall of the ballroom.

  I hope it's going well.

  She took in the scene of fancy costumes, makeup and masks. Everyone laughing and enjoying the ambiance of the party. She glanced to her left and saw Jack in his pirate costume, wooden leg and all. Anna shook her head, smiling. He was in the middle of a crowd of festive party goers. “...but actually it's the sea.” she overhead him land the punchline to a roar of laughter.

  I hope they hurry.

  “Hello.”

  Anna turned to find a young man leaning against the wall near her. He wore a cape and black mask pulled down to his strong jawline.

  “Parties are boring,” the man said. “From one wallflower to another.”

  Anna couldn't see his face, but the man's voice flowed out of him with a handsome masculinity that sent a tingle down Anna's spine. It was a delicious sound she could listen to for hours, like her favorite radio host, or when she used to watch old documentaries with her mother, narrated by Morgan Freeman.

  Anna smiled.

  “So why would a hero like Batman share a wall with me when there's an entire ballroom of walls to lean against?” she asked.

  “I like to find the most beautiful woman in the room and stand next to her.”

  Anna drifted her hand through the auburn locks between her mask and left ear while studying the man's features.

  “Ah, spending your time charming young women when there's an entire city that needs your help,” Anna said. “A superhero slacker.”

  The man grinned. “Says the musketeer leaning against the wall.”

  Anna's heart fluttered as she laughed. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Wesley Shriner. I work for Damarion, running the operations for city security.”

  Anna extended her hand. “Nice to meet you Wesley. My name is-”

  “Special Agent Montana Wool,” Wesley interrupted, taking Anna's hand. He lifted the back of her hand to his chin, pressing his lips to her third knuckle.

  Anna smiled at the gesture, his touch warming her insides.

  She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know my name?”

  “I heard you announce it when you arrived at the front door. Your reputation proceeds you. After all you're a celebrity, right?” Wesley's grin broadened. “And Damarion speaks highly of you.”

  “Speaking of Damarion, do you know where he is? I need to see him.”

  Wesley shook his head. “No. He's been missing for a few days. That's why I came to talk to you. I was hoping you had heard from him based on how much he talks about you.”

  It was Anna's turn to shake her head. “It's imperative I talk to him. I need an arrest warrant for Richard.”

  “You mean the Richard Brockman? You and I both.”

  “Yes. I have him on pending murder charges, but as far as I know he's hiding out here.”

  Wesley let out a whistle. “Good luck with that. I have him on charges for jumping over the wall, but Grandpa rich pants got him out.” Wesley made eye contact with Anna. “You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?” he asked.

  Anna shifted her weight. “About what? Richard going over the wall?”

  “Yes.”

  Anna pressed her lips together. “No, I wouldn't know anything about that,” she replied, shaking her head.

  Wesley nodded, giving Anna another charming smile. “Here I'll send you my contact information,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Please let me know if you hear from Damarion. Looks like we both need an arrest warrant and I already have one from the Supreme Court.” Wesley leaned in towards Anna's ear. “I found a Justice that doesn't like the Cromwell's much since he found out Cornelius has been paying th
e Court Justices for decisions to go his way.”

  Anna breathed in the smell of Wesley's cologne, the delicious aroma mirroring his voice.

  “So all we need is Damarion's signature,” Anna replied.

  Wesley nodded. “Yes. Then Batman and the French Guard can raid this palace,” he said. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” he finished, turning to walk away.

  Wesley stopped and turned back towards Anna. “Oh and one more thing,” he said, placing a hand in his pocket. Fishing out Anna's locket, he took a step closer.

  Anna froze.

  “Recognize this?”

  Eyeing the man before her, Anna slowly nodded. “Yes. That's my locket. Where did you find it?”

  “I was on call a few nights ago. I led a recovery team to the other side of the wall, and this,” Wesley held the locket in front of Anna, “was dangling from a bramble just above a whimpering Richard Brockman.”

  Wesley smiled. “But you wouldn't know anything about that.”

  Anna bit into her lower lip as Wesley moved behind her, slipping the chain around the front of her neck. She lifted her brown curls and Wesley snapped the clasp. “I had it repaired, hoping I would see you tonight.”

  The slight graze of Wesley's hands on the back of her neck weakened Anna's knees, but knowing she was caught sent a swarm of butterflies to her stomach.

  She placed a hand on the cool metal between her breasts.

  Feels good to have this back where it belongs.

  “So what are you going to do?” Anna asked.

  Wesley leaned in towards Anna's neck. “Don‘t worry, it's our little secret.”

  Once again lost in Wesley's tantalizing essence, Anna breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Wesley lingered, his breath toying with the hair on the back of her neck and sending a wave of electricity to replace the butterflies in her lower midsection.

  “Thank you,” Anna said, turning to face Wesley.

  “My pleasure,” he replied, still smiling. “I hope you have a great evening,” he added before turning and making his way to the other side of the room.

  Running a hand across her flushed cheek, Anna watched Wesley meander towards the refreshment table. She wanted him to return, experiencing a sudden loss of the tangible connection stoking the fire in her belly. She wished to continue their conversation, if for no other reason than to listen to his voice. She raised her hand, the tip of her tongue ready to call out to him.

  A commotion on the far side of the ballroom caught her attention.

  Anna moved to get a better look and stopped, planting her feet to the floor.

  Two armed guards were shuffling Athos, Porthos and George at gun point towards the corner of the room. The crowd moved aside to reveal Cornelius sitting on a makeshift throne, draped in a bright purple robe and wearing a crown.

  Anna shook her head. The hubris of that man, she thought, jogging towards him. She arrived in front of Cornelius at the same time as the guards.

  Cornelius stood. Stepping down from the throne, he moved close to Isabelle and Jax. “Well, what do we have here?” he squeaked, pulling off their hats and masks. His eyes grew wide. “Isabelle. What a surprise.” Cornelius turned towards Anna. “And I can only guess who the third Musketeer is."

  Anna reached for her gun, but stopped herself.

  I'm going to have to go about this in a different way.

  She pulled off her own hat and mask. “Anna Wool,” she said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. A burst of murmuring erupted through the room. Anna bowed. “At your service, your highness.”

  With two celebrities in their presence, the crowd clapped with delight, assuming this was a planned skit for their entertainment.

  “Give us your grandson and we will be on our way, your highness. He is to be tried for murder!” Anna announced.

  Not knowing what else to do, and trying to avoid a scene in front of his esteemed guests, Cornelius played along.

  “You cannot have him. He is sulking in his room, pining away for your hand and your love,” Cornelius replied.

  Anna lifted an eyebrow.

  That worked. Now I know without a doubt where's he hiding.

  A guard stepped toward Cornelius. “Sir, we found them in the Chamber room.”

  Cornelius nodded, but waved the guard off. He puffed out his chest. “There's one thing you are not aware of. I have caught one of your musketeers on camera murdering my very own butler!” he scowled.

  The guests cheered. “Ooh, this is getting good,” an attendee in the front row commented.

  Cornelius moved towards Anna. “I shall arrest you all,” he announced, grabbing Anna by the arm. He leaned in close to her ear. “I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you won't get away with it,” he whispered, before turning back to the crowd. “Out to the stocks!”

  Nodding towards the guards Cornelius led Anna to the front door, followed by George, Isabelle and Jax, at gunpoint. Several more guards brought up the rear. Cornelius ushered them through the doorway and turned towards the crowd. “Okay everyone, the show is over.” He raised his hands in the air. “Back to the revelry.” He nodded towards the band in the room's corner and music played.

  Cornelius stepped through the doorway. “I should have you all in the Chamber for this,” he spat.

  Anna gestured toward the terrace where a crowd had gathered to watch what was going on outside. “You don't want to make a scene,” she replied.

  Cornelius huffed.

  “I won't leave without a fight. I could snap your neck right now before one of your guards puts a bullet in me.”

  “I don't doubt it.”

  “Good, then don't force my hand. I am trying to turn over a new leaf.”

  Cornelius turned to his guards. “Bring George to the Chamber room. I'll deal with him later.”

  “No!” Isabelle gasped.

  “And what about them?” a guard asked.

  “Escort them off the property,” Cornelius replied before stepping in front of Anna. “I should have known you would try some skulduggery when I added you to the guest list, but your feeble attempt to break him out has failed.”

  “Break who out?” Anna asked.

  “He has Damarion,” Isabelle cried.

  Anna's eyes widened. She clenched her fists, staring Cornelius down.

  Cornelius leaned into Anna's neck. “Yes. I have Damarion. I will let you all leave so we can play another day,” he whispered into Anna's ear, his cracked lips brushing her lobe. “Wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good party.”

  Cornelius turned, gesturing towards the guards. “Get them off the property and out of my sight,” he snarled.

  As the guards escorted the trio away Cornelius spoke. “One more thing.”

  Anna turned to face him.

  “I‘ll make an announcement during tomorrow's address, appointing Richard interim chief of city security in Damarion's absence,” Cornelius explained as he took a step closer to Anna. “The tables have turned. As Chief, Richard has immunity. I have Damarion in the Chamber. and it's only a matter of time before I find out where you and your friends are hiding. Your move Miss Wool.”

  CHAPTER XII

  Cornelius drained his morning cup of brandy and lit a fresh cigarette.

  Today's the day, he thought, chipper for a change.

  He was eager to get his public address over with. Making Richard's position official would give him full control of the city, a long-awaited achievement. The only thing left to do was to get Damarion to break.

  Cornelius rubbed his hands together.

  Once I find out where they're hiding I will have city security crush them and put an end to the rebellion once and for all.

  Cornelius grinned.

  My Chamber will fill up.

  The pleasure he got from causing pain to others reached near bliss. It was something he couldn‘t help. Cornelius recalled the psychological testing trials done in the twentieth century. A trial of effects on the brain when a person may release an un
comfortable electric shock to someone in the next room by pressing a button. Over time, pressing the button, or even the thought of pressing it, activated the brain's pleasure center, proving that the prolonged causing of pain to others can become a sick addiction. Cornelius had been doing it for so long the pleasure center of his brain craved it like a powerful drug.

  Crushing his cigarette, Cornelius left his study. He made his way to the lower level and entered the Chamber room taking a position on a gurney in the room's corner. The gurney Cornelius settled into was larger than the rest and had several control panels, instead of one. He glanced at George's unconscious body and then towards Damarion's.

  “See you in a minute old friend,” he gurgled, tapping the control panel. He placed a headset over his face, covering his eyes and ears and reclined onto his back. “Chamber, enter,” he said.

  Staff turned down the lights of the delivery room forcing Cornelius's eyes to adjust. Damarion sat in a hunched position next to the bed clutching his wife's dead hand. “Candice,” Damarion wept, tears running down his cheeks. “My love.” He took in a staggered breath before burying his wet eyes into her chest.

  Cornelius frowned at the sight of his daughter, a rare glow of compassion in his eyes.

  “Damarion,” Cornelius called.

  Damarion righted himself, making eye contact with Cornelius. He shook his head. “It doesn't matter what I do, or how many times it happens, the doctors can't save her.”

  Anxiety crept into Cornelius's chest. Seeing his daughter lying dead in the hospital bed brought back too many of his own painful memories. “Enough. End scenario,” he prompted the computer program.

  The room changed and Cornelius found Damarion seated on the concrete floor of a cramped room. “There you are,” he said. Damarion turned his neck, looking up at Cornelius with bloodshot eyes. “How long do you think you have been in here?”

  Damarion shook his head before placing his chin on his chest.

  “Based on the Chamber's calculations it has been three months.” Cornelius grinned. “Three months of facing your worst fears. The Chamber is proficient at scanning your mind.” Cornelius reached down and pressed his finger to Damarion's forehead. “Finding just the right scenario to drive you mad.”