Reign of Coins (5 page)

“So, what brings you to Hong Kong?” I said, after I disconnected the call to the airline.

“What? No ‘How was your trip?’ or ‘What have you been up to for the past decade?’” Roderick chuckled warmly, and I felt some comfort at hearing his jovial Celtic accent. “It’s been far too long since we’ve held communion, William.”

I almost hated the way he said my name, since it sounded cheap and trivial. Yet, I doubted it was done on purpose. He was the one who came up with my name in the first place, when my previous moniker of Emmanuel didn’t sound American enough. I remember, quite well, that it was I who thought the name William Barrow was far too insipid to be taken seriously as a member of the newly formed BOI. Roderick had recruited me to the agency on behalf of President Theodore Roosevelt, and sold me on the opportunity to investigate terrible crimes taking place on Indian reservations. I thought I could make a difference on behalf of my Native American friends—some of which knew my true identity by virtue of their tribal shamans.

“Yes, it has been too long, my friend,” I said. “But, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“You mean, why am I here?”

“Yes.”

The water turned off in the bathroom, and in just a minute Alistair would emerge.

“I’m sure you can figure it out, William,” he said, and his voice carried the telltale burn of longstanding irritation. It could be on account of me…or it could be his waning fondness for the bureaucratic charade that dictated how things are run in Washington. “Perhaps a better question would be,
where
the hell am I right
now?”

He was someplace inside the Royal Garden complex.

“I take it this is not merely a social call, then?” My turn to add fire to the conversation. “And, here I thought I might finally get to introduce you to Alistair.”

“Someday. Perhaps very soon,” he replied, chuckling again. “But, not today. It’s best your kid be kept out of our business for a while longer.”

“I thought you’d say that,” I suddenly wanted to end the conversation. Alistair would be stepping into the living area at any moment, clothed in his bath towel. “Where do you want to meet?”

“I’m presently standing in the east corner of the parking garage adjacent to your hotel, third level,” Roderick advised. “I will wait for you here…unless you take longer than twenty minutes.”

“Be there in ten,” I said, just as Alistair stepped around the corner. I forced a warm smile for my son while we traded curious glances, and then he moved over to the coffee table to pick up the remote for the TV.

“See you then, William.”

Roderick hung up before I could respond with anything else. I prepared to excuse myself from Alistair’s presence, knowing I couldn’t avoid the truth about my upcoming meeting. It wouldn’t be easy to convince him to stay put until I returned, but that was exactly what had to happen. Fortunately, him being half-naked with water dripping down his back gave me a head start. Before he could intercept me while reaching for his clothes, I had already exited the room.

* * *

“The beard fits you,” I said, as the tall figure stepped slightly out of the shadows in the only dimly lit area of the garage. I didn’t have to look toward the ceiling to know there was a recently broken lamp or two above us. “I dare say it makes you look more mature.”

Roderick’s baby face is smooth enough to pass for a youth in high school, and perhaps most people would assume he is that young, if not for his full head of white hair. Yes, we’re talking Santa Claus white, though he keeps it closely cropped ala Roman style. According to him, his hair color was a byproduct of when he was drowned in a bog located in what is now Northern Ireland. Part of a ritual designed to grant his tribe lasting protection from southern marauders and Roman legions, something in the rancid water saved his life and changed him forever.

Two defining characteristics have followed him ever since, and these traits frightened the holy hell out of the priests charged with his sacrifice. Like a vampire, Roderick’s skin caries the pale bluish tint of death, and his eyes that were once sky blue in his mortal state are lavender with tiny gold specs around the edges of his irises. He truly does look like a damned bloodsucker. Yet, Roderick is far from dead or vampiric. His heart works fine and his body temperature runs quite warm. He requires a similar nourishment regimen to mine, although I can go much longer without water than he can. If he ever truly desired to leave this world, a week without drinking fluids should do the trick. But, unlike me, Roderick has no desire to revisit loved ones waiting on the veil’s other side anytime soon.

“Do you think it works with the tinted glasses?”

Dressed casually in a light blue polo shirt and dark slacks, he stepped out of the shadows, allowing himself a cautionary glance beyond me. For the moment, we were alone in this section of the garage.

“As long as you keep the beard trimmed close to your face,” I said, returning his grin with the endearing smile I’ve used for so long I can hardly tell when it’s truly sincere or not. “I see you’ve upgraded your foundation and blush, as well. Looks good on your arms and hands, too.”

I believe his face literally blushed at that moment, though it would’ve been difficult to say for certain. I’m sure my once-close friend, who had roamed the earth for centuries by my side, is quite grateful for the advances in women’s makeup. Without that assistance, he’d still be mixing muddy soil to cover his paleness.

“It’s MAC,” he confessed, chuckling. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of the generous smile he was loath to share, as it often made his otherwise handsome appearance garish. “One of my connections in Los Angeles turned me on to it in 1989. It has granted me much more freedom to move about unnoticed.”

“Hmmm…the things we could’ve talked about in person over the past century, had we made time for each other as we once did,” I observed, feeling a brief prick from nostalgia. We had witnessed so many events in history. But it all came to an end when he decided to settle down permanently in the American colonies, at the dawn of the 1700s. “Perhaps someday we can take a moment to truly catch up on what we’ve missed from each other’s lives.”

“Indeed…I would like that.”

He chuckled again, yet I could tell he meant the words he spoke.

“So…what brings you here?” I worried our relative privacy could end at any moment. “Last we spoke, you were getting out of this business. I figured you were—”

“Retired?” he interrupted me.

“Yes.”

“William…
Judas
…how long have we known each other?”

“Long enough to know you don’t take trips halfway across the globe to see the sights,” I said, unable to play coy. “Something pretty big has got the brotherhood in Washington’s dander up, or you wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about a coin convention. Did Michael put you up to this?”

“As a matter of fact, he did,” he admitted. “Things are rapidly changing in American government, and the old families have regained the foothold they relinquished forty years ago. Certain activities make them quite nervous, especially when we’re dealing with nuclear arms. And, that nervousness becomes highly toxic when new weapons of mass destruction are involved.

“I don’t follow you.”

“Yes, actually I believe you do…or perhaps you will, once you learn other facts involved here.”

I didn’t like the way this sounded, and even less the look in his eyes as he removed his glasses. Roderick’s irises were aglow with energy. I knew from that alone if he could’ve avoided this meeting with an old friend, he would’ve done so.

“Well, shall we dance? Or, will you do me the courtesy of laying it out plainly?”

“First off, what I must relate pertains only to you,” he said, pausing to release a pensive sigh. “Your secret is no longer safely hidden.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

I immediately felt my chest constrict, and it is one sensation I share with everyone else—mortal and immortal. Betrayal always seizes the heart.

“Michael, Cedric, and, of course, Paul, all know you are Judas Iscariot.”

Count on a fellow immortal to not mince words in spelling out a hurtful truth.

“H-how long have they known?” I was stunned by his words. I could barely formulate an effective question from the sudden swirling panic that filled my mind.

“Paul has known for at least twenty years,” he said, lowering his voice, as if it would dampen the sting. “He claims to have deciphered your penchant for exotic trips after pictures of your growing coin collection surfaced at the agency in 1990. I’ve recently seen these photographs, taken between the discovery of coins twelve through seventeen.”

I shook my head, disbelieving, despite often feeling like the collection had been tampered with in my absence from the bowels of the well-respected industrial bank where the coins sat until six years ago. Alistair had wisely suggested we move it to a safer place, and once we determined his condo would be the best locale, I purchased a bank-grade steel vault and had it installed in his bedroom. At the time, we had recently procured coin number eighteen.

“Was it you who told them?”

“Me? Oh no…I’d never do anything like that, Judas,” he said, eyeing me solemnly. “We may not be as close as we once were, but I will always consider you as my dear friend and treat you as such forevermore.”

“Who was it, then?”

“I don’t know the betrayer’s identity. Paul’s connections make him the most likely candidate for being the first to know. I believe he passed the information on to Cedric and Michael, but not until five years ago. Whoever betrayed you put the bug in Paul’s ear to check your bank for suspicious dealings.”

“So, all of my direct contacts within the CIA have kept this big secret about me for years.” My anger rose rapidly to the surface. “When did you find out?”

“Two weeks ago.” Roderick glanced past me toward the elevator entrance across the parking lot. I followed his gaze, but saw nothing out of place. “It was after you stormed out of Michael’s office.”

I could almost picture the lockdown meeting that followed, where my former superiors discussed nefarious ways to maintain my indentured status.

“I’m so fucking done working with them!”

“That’s the reaction they expected, I’m afraid.”

“And, Paul…Paul Silverstein? He can kiss my real Jewish ass!” I seethed. Prepared to end my conversation with Roderick, I’d gather my kid and luggage, and get the hell out of Hong Kong! “Well, thanks for the update, man…. Maybe we can meet for dinner some night back in the States, after I chill from this whole damned fiasco!”

“It sounds like you’re ready to leave Hong Kong,” he observed, evenly. I glared at him in response. “But, you can’t leave here…at least not yet.”

“The hell you say!”

I turned to leave, and headed for the elevators.

“You are in grave danger, my friend. In truth, we all are, if Christian Morrow can’t be stopped.”

“Tell your director that’s really too bad and definitely none of my concern,” I retorted, barely glancing over my shoulder at where Roderick stood, half in shadow and half under the dim glow of the unbroken lamps. “I’ve got more important things to attend to right now—like making sure Alistair remains in one piece!”

“If you leave here tonight, he won’t,” Roderick warned. “Kaslow is working for Mr. Morrow, and you and I both know your Soviet archenemy knows what you are!”

I stopped.

“The bullshit you speak of won’t cease until Alistair is dead and you end up in some other time and place,” he continued, lowering his voice again since I hadn’t moved. “Kaslow could try to do that without any further incentives. From what we understand, you are the reason he took the job with Morrow. It’s an added bonus that means more to him than the millions he is being paid.”

“And, how in the hell do you know all of this?”

I turned to face him, and slowly returned to where he waited.

“I wish I could tell you everything—and someday I will, I swear, Judas,” he said. “But, right now you have a job to seriously consider…. Long ago, you trusted me to find a vocation that would protect your cover—the same one that has protected me for more than one hundred and seventy years.”

“And, look how much good it’s done!”

“If you stop and seriously think about it, you will see this arrangement has served you well,” countered Roderick. “In fact, it has succeeded
very
well. If not for the folks in Washington pulling a few strings to get you a nice furlough in Glasgow after World War II, you might never have met your beloved wife, Beatrice.”

“What good is that now, since my cover has been
annihilated?”
I hated the whine creeping into my voice, and more that I couldn’t control it. “We could be sitting ducks for anyone wanting to get back at me for certain deeds I fulfilled for the great ‘U.S. of A’!”

“That’s why you’ll need to wait in your room until we give you instructions for your next move.”

“And, if I refuse and proceed to book the next flight out of here?”

“Then, you’ll have your freedom, Judas,” he said. “But, in the end it might cost you far more than it was ever worth. You and I used to talk about second chances…do you remember, my friend?”