27Author's Note: There are some authors in this category whose work has served as an inspiration to my own. To these Muses I would just like to say, "I hate you." Mostly because my sudden desire to write this has sidelined another project.
Dying Wish
"I see, I see," the old man said, sitting up in his chair. The chair was a fine wooden piece, upholstered in soft leather. A tasteful antiquity, much like its owner. He leaned on his desk and spoke into the receiver, his voice a somber baritone, "And these prototypes are in the final stages of development?"
The voice of a younger man assured him it was so. "They should be combat-ready within a year, sir. Perhaps faster if you can persuade the good doctor to assist us. You received all the information we sent?"
"Yes, I have it all right in front of me." In front of him on the desk was a shallow collection of pictures, charts and papers, enough to fill the two manilla envelopes that sat open. Ignored, a newspaper sat near the desk's edge. "How did you acquire such detail, may I ask?" It was the sort of question that was not really a question.
"We learned of this through a reporter in the news media. He had a contact within the organization—"
"Had?" Though age had dulled the old man's reflexes considerably, his wit was sharper than ever.
"Uh... yes, sir. The contact was executed, but an unexpected twist of luck saved the reporter. He came to us for protection for himself and his family."
"So you can vouch for the accuracy of all of this? You must agree what you've sent... stretches credibility just a bit, not to mention being somewhat... "
"Disturbing?," the younger man volunteered. The older man frowned. Finishing his sentences for him implied a familiarity with which he was uncomfortable. At least from this glorified technician. "I can assure you, sir, it's all true and verifiable. The photos have not been doctored in any way. Furthermore, the funeral Dr. Nori attended is a testament to the importance of secrecy for such a project."
The older man pinned the receiver between his ear and shoulder so he could sift through some reports while the younger man continued,"If I may be so bold, sir?" The senior man grunted acknowledgement.
"Dr. Nori was one of the collaborators on some of the seminal papers in the emergent field of biological prosthetics while also being a gifted surgeon. My own team, and Dr. McAllister in particular, are optimistic that with his help we could quicken the pace. This could put our team years ahead of any competition in the field both from a theoretical as well as an applied perspective. Furthermore, with a monopoly we could sell off obsolete technology to other nations for a hefty price while still maintaining the upper hand, not to mention the prestige of—"
"That's presuming it works," the older man cut in. "Let's not get too optimistic, here. Until we see field-trials, this is all just so much wasted money."
"Of course, sir, but what I had meant to say was—"
"And Nori is a patriot. You think he'll be willing to set aside those loyalties so easily?" The elder man tossed the papers at which he had been looking on his desk, save a single photo. He admired the subject for a few seconds then flipped it over to read what was on the back.
"My apologies for being presumptuous, sir, but if you had to choose between your family or your country, which would you choose?"
He wasted no time in responding, "Point taken. What was this gentleman to Dr. Nori?"
"His father."
The man arched a gray eyebrow, "Oh?"
"Yes, sir. The deceased was officially married, but young Dr. Nori lived with his mother and rarely interacted with his father. Father and son were in the midst of sorting out their differences. They hadn't actually met face-to-face in almost twenty years." While the older man said nothing, he was quite impressed with the intelligence-gathering of his organization.
A light on the phone blinked. The man sat forward, ready to conclude the conversation. "Alright. Dr. Nori is here. We'll talk later."
"I hope the good doctor sees reason. Good luck, sir."
The older man hung up the phone and snorted derisively. What was it that made young people so impertinent these days, anyway? He decided it was a mix of popular culture combined with playing God in a laboratory setting and pressed a button on his intercom.
"Dr. Nori is here, sir," came a secretary's voice.
"Send him in."
The older man stood up and stretched. He straightened his tie and smoothed the folds of his suit as a matter of habit. This was not any sort of serious negotiation. He held all the aces in this game and was sure he knew which buttons to push, but even so people were capricious creatures. It would not do to alienate a potential ally through simple foolishness or a bad impression. Satisfied that he looked impeccable, he collected the documents scattered on his desk and put them back into the envelope to which each belonged in a neat and orderly fashion. All save one.
He walked around to the front of his desk ready to greet his visitor. In short order the double-doors opened and a pair of men in black suits escorted a third man in. Dr. Marcus Nori was wearing handcuffs and a black hood in addition to his black pants and white button-down shirt. The guards unlocked the handcuffs and removed the hood to reveal an irritated but otherwise unharmed man of relatively young age. His dark eyes focused on the well-dressed older man accusingly. His short black hair was ruffled and disheveled, a result of wearing the hood. A golden chain hung around his neck, peeking out from under the shirt. The outline of a crucifix was just barely discernible, attached to the chain, no doubt.
The older man motioned for the suits to leave and stepped forward with a warm smile and extended hand. "Please accept my apologies for the treatment you have received, Dr. Nori. You can call me Mr. Caesius, if you would."
As if by rote, Nori accepted the hand, noting the firm grip. A glimmer of recognition flashed in his eyes and he said, "You're—"
"Please, Mr. Caesius will do nicely. While I presume myself safe here my enemies are neither small in number, nor bound by such things as scruples or morals. Hence the precautions taken with your delivery here. If you have been mistreated in any way do not hesitate to voice your concern."
"No, no. Your men were thorough and efficient. Nothing more."
"Well, then. That's always good to hear. An organization is only as good as its people, don't you agree? Would you care for a drink?" Caesius asked as he crossed to a section of wall which held a fine selection of alcohol.
"No, thank you." The man had sounded shaken when he had arrived, but was quickly recovering.
"Though I love my country dearly, I have such a great love of French wines and brandies, armagnac in particular." he said, pouring himself a snifter of the stuff.
"Caesius? A word meaning blue-gray or so. The color of steel," Dr. Nori said as he looked around.
"An obscure reference, to be sure," the host said as he paused and looked back at his guest to offer an appreciative smile. Privately he was pleasantly surprised. So few men took the time to appreciate the rich culture of their homeland these days. Perhaps he really would like this Dr. Nori.
"I studied classical Greek and Latin for several years in my youth," Nori replied, standing confidently, feet apart, arms behind his back.
"Oh? Wonderful. Cultured and literate men are rare treasures in the modern day." He raised his glass slightly, as if in toast to such qualities, and savored the aroma and flavor of his chosen drink as his guest drank in the contents of the study.
Mr. Caesius himself was an aged Italian man. He had certainly been a barrel-chested man with thick, black hair in the summer of his youth, but age had turned him into a stocky man with steel gray hair. His suit was fashionable but not ostentatious, slate-gray with neither crease, wrinkle nor speck of dirt. He wore a black tie with a silver tie-tack and matching silver cufflinks. Several rings were fitted around strong fingers. Two were simple bands while one was set with a white pearl, a strange choice of stone. Conservative black shoes completed the outfit, but Nori could hardly identify their maker.
The middle of the room was dominated by a huge desk of indiscernible wood. A fine leather chair sat behind it and it was bare save some papers, two manilla envelopes, a newspaper, an old globe and a rather modern phone, looking out of place. Closer to Nori was a soft couch which matched the chair; both comfortable and elegant. Small end tables sat at either end of the couch. On the one nearest the door sat a worn, aged copy of Jacques le Fataliste et Son Maître which Nori recognized as having been an influential work of the late eighteenth century.
Two of the walls were covered by shelves of books, both modern volumes and aged classics. Each bookcase was close to four meters in height, stretching from the vaulted ceiling to the hardwood floor. The wall behind his guest contained the doors, flanked by reproductions of renaissance paintings. The wall closest to him held the bar, two busts — one of Machiavelli the other of Rousseau — and a terrarium. It was to the latter that Caesius walked, examining its contents as he spoke.
"Do you fancy predators, doctor? I find myself fascinated by reptiles, snakes in particular." The older man peered into the terrarium, then turned on a warming lamp above the tank. The lone occupant, a large snake which Dr. Nori could not identify, flicked its tongue, but did little else.
"Not really. I favor mammals, but I really favor people. That's how I got into medicine," he said, trying not to let the impatience he felt show.
Mr. Caesius set his brandy on the desk and removed his jacket to reveal a white silk dress shirt. The jacket went on the desk next to his drink. "Snakes are so interesting," he began as he unbuttoned his right sleeve and rolled it up to the elbow. "It can be hard to imagine that we have shared the Earth with them for so long..." he said, reaching into a small cage next to the terrarium, "...yet are so very different." From it he produced a white mouse, held by its tail, little legs working frantically to escape. "Literal cold-blooded killers. I love to watch them work," he said as he undid the latches on the top of the terrarium and dropped the mouse on top of a piece of tree which acted as terrain and aesthetic prop.
As he closed the tank and cage and dressed himself, Nori said, "You certainly went through a lot of trouble so that I could share a drink with you and watch your pet, Mr. Caesius." The older man smiled to himself as he buttoned his jacket and tucked his tie. Nori was getting impatient, but chose to broach the matter in a refined manner.
"Oh, there is much more to it than that, doctor, much more. Have a seat if you like, I shall take no offense. But I do like to watch this sport," he said, indicating the tank. The mouse had recovered and was exploring the terrain of its glass prison. Its little nose twitched as it sniffed this way and that.
"Thank you, but I'll stand," was the reply.
Caesius nodded, took a swig of brandy and began. "You have kept up to date with the current scandals in parliament?"
"Not really. I see them on the news, but I try not to pay attention. Politics isn't my thing. It's mostly he-said, she-said, anyway," he returned, trying to sound blasé; and succeeding.
"But even so, such actions, and from a senator for life, no less. That there is enough evidence to warrant an investigation into such matters is reason enough for the man to resign in shame, but all the Senate can do is deliberate while the more moderate Deputies point to his record of service. If it were not for certain elements of the media, the public might forget all about it. They may still..."
Nori shrugged and walked over to lean against the desk. From this vantage he had an excellent view of the actions in the terrarium. While the mouse seemed oblivious to the snake, the predator seemed to be regarding the prey thoughtfully. "I won't deny that," he said after some time for thought, "but that's what politics is all about. And the media loves to rouse the rabble. If you try a man in the court of public opinion his guilt or innocence becomes irrelevant."
"True enough, but the President should be above such things and still he sits, idle. It is matters like this which make the public view government as incapable and stagnant. If such a man as that can sit in the senate, what other vermin lurk in the hallowed halls of government?"
"Many, no doubt," Nori replied, watching a different sort of vermin. The mouse had stopped and appeared to be listening, occasionally sniffing the air. "But all men are fallible, no matter what it is they do with their lives."
"Just so, but men should recognize their own failings as the government should recognize its failure to perform its duty to the people."
"Such as when a sizable portion of the electorate favors secession?" Nori inquired, slyly. Caesius nodded his head slightly, in assent. He regarded his glass for a moment, then took another sip.
"How could that not cause more problems than it solves?" Nori inquired when it became clear that nothing more was forthcoming.
"For whom?" Caesius replied. His face remained passive, but his eyes smiled.
"The PRF are an implement of terror. The way to achieve such goals is through the legislature which has received its mandate from the people, not terrorists," Nori said, frowning.
"Desperate men employ desperate measures." The snake slid forward slightly, tongue testing the air. The mouse shifted uncomfortably.
Nori shook his head, "If they're that desperate then they have already failed. It's the twenty-first century. The first world should not have to resort to armed revolution. Besides, gridlock is good for government."
In the cage, the mouse became more bold. It made movements towards a bowl of water. Outside, Caesius laughed. "I shall concede that point. The more energy the government expends in politics, the less is available for misuse elsewhere." He tapped his glass thoughtfully as he contemplated the mouse's dilemma.
"But there exists the possibility that such measures have been tried already. Bureaucracy is a many-headed hydra... like my friend, here," he gestured with his glass at the snake, still frozen in place regarding the mouse, "but with more heads. Cut one off and another one strikes at you from behind."
"Conspiracy theories are the products of over-active imaginations coupled with idle hands," Nori said.
"The best lies contain the grain of truth," came the retort. "Despite the media's best efforts and the public outrage the senate still has a—"
"Those are only allegations, Mr. Caesius," Nori reminded him.
"Of course, doctor." Another sip of brandy gave him time to collect his thoughts. He was savoring this, every minute of it. In his youth he had been a fencer, and there were few who could offer him a challenge. His size made him appear to be deceptively slow. A bit old now to handle a foil or a rapier, the man known as Mr. Caesius fenced with words, but he still lived for the challenge.
"But it seems neither parliament nor the executive is concerned with the truth. Whether or not the public has passed final judgment, the government will not even bring the matter to trial. As is true of the matter of northern independence."
Neither man was paying attention to the mouse, anymore, who took this opportunity to inch closer to the water. In response, the snake moved forward a bit more. It moved in small bits, stopping whenever the mouse paused.
"To continue your parallel, sir, when it comes to northern independence, the prosecution resort to extortion, murder and destruction of property at a whim."
The mouse was at the edge of the water bowl, now. Cautiously, it sipped some water, then retreated.
"To say nothing of the defense."
"Pardon?"
"I meant that the prosecution is doing nothing the defence has not done first."
Nori forgot himself for a minute and regarded his host as if he were some backwater bumpkin insisting on the existence of little green men from Mars. "You really believe that?" he asked with a hint of scorn in his voice.
Caesius only shrugged, failing to take offense. "If they did it would be near impossible to confirm. Likewise, it would be near impossible to see a senator tried, convicted and penalized when the judiciary has more to lose by such action than they have to gain by inaction."
The mouse, emboldened by its prior taste of water, and sensing no repercussions, moved closer and begin to drink, its pink tongue making little ripples in the water. The snake reared itself up, poised to strike.
"You're saying there's a cover-up," he said, indignantly. "That the government has carte blanche to forward its agenda in any way it cares to despite what the people do or say in protest?" He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "That couldn't happen in this day and age. Even if there were a huge conspiracy through multiple levels of government, too many people would find out. Too many would have attacks of conscience. There would be huge public outcry because it would be impossible to keep such a thing secret on such a massive scale."
Caesius nodded sagely, saying, "There is a new grassroots political movement that formed in the north recently. Perhaps you have heard of them?"
Nori chuckled and shook his head. "No offense, but I think you're grasping at straws."
The older man set his drink on the desk. "There was a time when I was young and idealistic like you. Willing to believe in the inherent goodness of man."
The mouse tensed. It sensed danger. The younger man tilted his head to eye his host. "Where's the proof?"
Mr. Caesius took the newspaper from off his desk. It had been turned to an inner page and folded, an article circled in Sharpie. He handed it to his guest. Unnoticed by either man, the snake struck. In an eyeblink it had buried its fangs in the mouse who scrambled frantically to get away.
A sceptical look still on his face, Nori unfolded his arms enough to receive the newspaper. He scanned the contents, and as he did his expression changed, hardened. He unfolded his arms and stood up straight. His mouth a tight line, and his eyes burning with hatred he asked, "What does this have to do with anything?"
Silent, Caesius handed a stack of paper to a grieving son. The papers were several blank sheets of typed text with handwritten notes in the margin.
The snake drew in its prey, slowly, methodically. The mouse struggled but it was pinned and could not hope to prevail against the larger creature. There was no emotion in the snake's cold eyes, neither compassion nor joy. It merely did what it had to do to survive.
Nori read through the paper, unbelieving, at first. He read the margin notes and flipped to the second page. Caesius regarded his brandy thoughtfully, then finished the last of it. He really did like armagnac, but that last draught had been a bit bitter for his liking.
Dr. Nori kept reading. By the time he had gotten to the third page, his pain was palpable. Caesius casually walked to the bar, grabbed a clean rocks glass and poured a double scotch. He heard a whispered, "My God!" behind him and the turn of a page. Footsteps and the creak of the leather couch. He set the drink down and began to pack up the bar.
"How can— How can I know this is true?" came the question behind him. The voice was a combination of anger and sorrow, struggling to maintain composure.
Caesius stopped what he was doing and spoke without turning, "The reporter who wrote it requested asylum within the Five Republics saying that he had been targeted for execution by someone in the government. When the reason became clear, he and his family were relocated, and quickly I might add. You can meet him if you like."
His work done, he took the drink and crossed over to Nori. The younger man was seated on the couch, his face flushed. Caesius offered the drink. Nori took it without protest.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice quiet and resigned.
The older man walked to his desk. In the terrarium, the snake had finished devouring the mouse. It slid back to its spot and lied down, content to digest. "I'm not a killer or a terrorist," came Nori's voice. It sounded like he was choking back tears.
Caesius picked up both manilla envelopes and held one in each hand. He turned to look at his guest. The papers given to him lay on his lap, the scotch in his hand. "The newspaper and copyedit you can keep, or leave as you wish. Our organization has plenty enough killers and mercenaries. What we need from you is your skills as a doctor, researcher and surgeon. If you are willing to help us, help your fellow countrymen, I will give you these," he indicated the envelopes he held, "and arrange to have your family moved. Too much deviation in your normal routine could put them in danger."
"And they'll be hostages against my cooperation."
"Not at all, doctor. They can be moved wherever you wish and be under as light or as heavy a guard as you want. Their safety is important."
Nori nodded. He understood the implications even as he admitted the necessity. He regarded the glass in his hand for a few seconds, then kicked back the drink. Unused to such potent liquor, he stifled a cough. "What's in those?" he asked when he could speak again.
"This one," the right hand came up, "details the project mentioned in that copyedit you read. This one," the left, "details the project on which you would be working. Really advanced stuff. What was the word? Bleeding-edge I think is how Dr. McAllister described it." There was a reaction to the name. If there had been any doubt before, the mention of such a prestigious colleague had put that to rest. "Of course, these are available on a need-to-know basis. As it stands now, you can walk out that door and go home and continue to live your life as you see fit."
But the good doctor had closed his eyes and was already shaking his head. "No, sir." He looked directly at his host, firm in his conviction. "I love my country, but I would kill to protect my family. Or avenge them."
"Amen," came the response as he handed the envelopes to the PRF's newest recruit. "Family?" The old man screwed up his face in incomprehension. "Tell me, doctor, what was Captain Raballo to you?"
The man had stood up and tucked the envelopes under his left arm. "He was my father, sir. Nori is the name of my mother's family."
"Oh!" said the older man. He took some time to digest that before saying, "Then please accept my condolences on the passing of your father. He was a friend of mine from my time in the military." Nori nodded but said nothing.
"If you will excuse me, then, I need to make arrangements for your family." Caesius pressed a button on his phone. Seconds later the doors opened and the men in suits stood at the ready. "These men will escort you out. I will have you put in contact with your family as time permits. I am truly sorry we had to meet under such circumstances."
Nori had turned to walk out, but paused halfway, swallowed hard and said, "Yeah. Me, too."
Alone, the older man waited a few minutes, thoughts running through his head, then picked up the phone and dialed. After he heard an answer he said, "It is done. Prepare the prototypes for field-testing."