The Mandate of Heaven (19 page)

She would certainly enjoy that.

Suddenly, she realised that she’d better get on with it, as time was rapidly running out for the three men, bound hand and feet, kneeling in the middle of the room.  Alex stalked them, like death itself, fusion pistol already in hand and raised it until it was level with the forehead of the first.  A single thought all that separated the man from this life and the next.

“Alex!” her cry echoed around the room and the word brought them a brief respite, for it wasn’t until she’d said the word, she realised that it was the first time that she’d ever voiced his given name out loud.

The surprise was clearly etched on his face, as he turned to face her, the pistol wavered slightly, but still pointing at the man’s head.

Now that she finally had his attention, she frantically grasped at what to say next.  “Don’t do this.  They,” she waved a hand in the direction of the bound and gagged men, “threatened to do the very same to me.  You’re not like them, you’re better than this.”

“You seem to have some mistaken idea that I give a damn about what you think.  You have put me on a pedestal that I neither want, nor care for.  I have tried being honest, decent and truthful, and lost everything because of it.  There is no justice in this world, or the next.  As for the Gods?  I’ve already stood in judgement before them, and I promise you that justice was
not
served.  There is only one person that you can rely upon, yourself, and you never doubt yourself.  You make your decision and move on.  Only fools, or the dead, dwell in the past and I’m neither.”

“Fine,” Jessica exclaimed, exasperated.  “You want to go and kill them, go ahead.  But just remember that I’m
not
going to help you clean up the mess in here.  I’ve only just finished decorating and, furthermore, I’m absolutely
not
going to help you dispose of the bodies.”

“You’re going to throw
my
words, back in
my
face?” Alex said, lips quivering in a smile.

“They seemed to work well enough for you.  Or is that all they were?  Just meaningless words, sacrificed on the altar of your own good intentions.”

Alex meanwhile was rubbing his chin thoughtfully, staring at her intently, deep in contemplation.  “You’re the one that was wronged, what would
you
have me do?”

“An eye for an eye and a cheek for a cheek.”

“Fair enough,” Alex smirked, “But let me do the honours.  You’ve got to allow for my injured pride.  Your wounds might be more visible, but trust me when I say that mine equally sting.”

With that he spun around, slamming his fist into the cheek of the man at his feet.  The force of the blow toppled him to one side and everybody winced at the sound of his head bouncing off the floor.

“Have you now finished with this overpowering display of male testosterone?” she sniped impatiently.

“Yep,” Alex replied unperturbed as he breezed past her.  “Nice speech by the way, but it really wasn’t necessary.  I could hardly shoot all three of them now, could I?  What with you looking on—barefoot.  You look like some sort of wild Nymph that’s just escaped from a fairy tale.  Cute toenails by the way.”

His parting comment had the unfortunate effect of causing everybody in the room to turn to glance at her bare feet, with hardly more than one concealed smile.

*****

“Ouch!  That hurts.”

“Sorry,” muttered Alex.  “You know this would be a lot easier if you didn’t keep fidgeting.”

“What is it?  It reeks.”

“Something that Mary concocted.  I’m not entirely sure what it’s made of.  Frankly, I thought it best not to ask.  However, I’ve used it plenty of times before, it’s a mild anaesthetic and will bring down the swelling and speed your recovery.”

“Get involved in many fights, do you?” Jessica teased, hissing when he applied the foul smelling salve onto her cheek.

“Not really, but when I do I’ve often got enough good sense to know when to duck.”

Jessica just snorted, ignoring the remark, but after a few minutes the silence started to become intolerable.  “So where did you go?” she blurted out the question that had been nagging at her ever since his departure.

“It’s a long story,” came back the terse reply.

“I’m not going anywhere, why do you have a pressing engagement?”

“Fine,” Alex sighed, recounting the events that had transpired on Babylon Station, purposefully averting his gaze as he did so.  He had no wish to see the disdain in her eyes at his abject failure.  Yet, by the time he had finished the story and having not received any comment, he risked a glance in her direction.

She was biting her cheek, trying in vain to supress her laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“You,” she chortled, a smile threating to engulf her face.  “It’s just that you have the most remarkable friends, not enough that he set you up to get killed, but he also had to swindle you in the process.  Is there anybody you know that doesn’t want you dead?”

“That depends,” he shot back.  “If you still want
me
dead?  As John mentioned you said something to that effect…”

“I was more than a little put out with you at the time,” Jessica replied waving her hand dismissively.  “Having spread the nasty rumour that I was a raging lunatic…” lapsing into silence once again, but this time it felt different, almost comfortable.  “So what are we going to do now?” she finally asked.

“We?” Alex snorted.

“Well, correct me if I’m mistaken, but it seems that somebody very much wants us both dead.”

“I’m not deluding myself into thinking I can protect you all by myself.  I can swallow my pride for long enough to admit that I, we, need help.  I know some people—”

“More friends of yours?” Jessica rolled her eyes.  “Just what we need, more people trying to kill us.”

“Colleagues,” Alex continued on, ignoring her.  “Ex-colleagues to be more specific, they won’t want to help, but they owe me.  Once I remind them of that, then they’ll help us.”

“You trust these people?”

“Yes, they’ll never betray us.  If, for no other reason, than the only person they could betray us to, they hate, even more than me.”

“You know the strangest people,” she shook her head in astonishment.  “When do we leave?”

“There you go with that
we
again. 
I’ll
leave in the morning, you stay here, where it’s safe.”

“Safe?” Jessica scoffed.  “You’ve got some peculiar ideas about what’s safe.  Considering a group of thieving criminals ran, amok, through your own home, only yesterday.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Alex shook his head stubbornly.  “I’ll have another word with John, either he or one of his deputies can remain here with you.”

“It wasn’t John, or one of his deputies, that swore to keep me safe.  So you’re going to break your word now, are you?”

Alex opened his mouth about to retort, before snapping it shut, grinding his teeth together in frustration.

Having had little sleep the night before, Jessica found herself being gently lulled to sleep by the warmth of the fire and the plush, deep-seated sofa.  “Wake me when it’s time for
us
to depart,” she sighed, snuggling deeper into the cushions.  Comfortable and safe, with Alex seated beside her.

It would take more than a band of marauding thieves to get past
him
.

Resigned to the fact that she had got the better of him, again, Alex watched with mouth agape, as her eyes grew heavy, her breathing evening out.  Even more shocked when her head hit his shoulder, along with the soft sounds of her snoring.  Not wishing to wake her, he gently withdrew the fusion pistol from his coat.  Letting it rest on a side table, still easily within reach.  Before reclining back in the sofa, he let her head rest on his chest.  Propping his feet up on the low lying coffee table, he ran his hands through her sable locks, amazed at their softness, like silk to the touch.

Without even realising it, for the first time in many days, he let his own eyes drift shut, embracing the exhaustion that engulfed them both.  Lying in each other’s arms, with the flames from the open fire sending the shadows fleeing from the room.

Interlude.

The door was thrust open so violently that it rattled on its hinges.  It was promptly slammed shut, just as quickly, the emissary leaning back against the now closed door, breathing heavily.

Unblinking yellow eyes observed the scene with something akin to curiosity.  The master couldn’t remember the last time that his emissary had entered with anything more than a hair out of place.  But this time the air of confidence and general superiority had completely vanished, instead the man reeked of fear, and yet the master hadn’t even raised a hand against him.

The master went back to stirring the fireplace, until the flames leapt higher and higher, casting long shadows across the length of the room.  The poker was white hot by the time the master withdrew it from the flames and, holding it up to his face, he could feel the heat radiating from it.

“You bring news of your search, I presume?” the master drawled unhurriedly.  Based on the expression on his emissary’s face, the master doubted that it would be good news.  He returned the poker to the fire, twirling it just above the flames, where the heat was hottest.

“We discovered that the intermediary withheld the initial funds from the mercenary for the contract.  It seemed safe to assume that the mercenary would return for the money, therefore we laid a trap, for both of them.”

“I take it things didn’t go according to plan?” the master enquired dryly.

“Unfortunately not, my Lord.  Most of your men died.”

The master shrugged, unconcernedly.  Men dying for him weren’t new and didn’t particularly bother him.  He’d long since found out that there were many more where they’d come from.  “What of the mercenary, and the go-between?”

“Gone.  Vanished.  Both of them.”

The master didn’t reply for a long time, but instead tightened his grip on the poker, waving it backwards and forwards through the hottest part of the flame.  He was reminded that this wasn’t the first time that his emissary had come to him, reporting failure.  Intriguingly both times had involved this unnamed mercenary… “That is all you have to report?” he asked in an ominous tone.  “I warned you, during our last meeting, the consequences of once again returning, empty-handed.”

“No, my Lord.  I bring further news that I know will interest you.  During the failed attempt on Lady Jessica’s life our man was killed, but so was another.  I managed to intercede, retrieving both bodies, before High-Lord Hadley could investigate further.  I personally oversaw the autopsy of both, in our own facilities.”

“You found some clue?”

“Far more than that, my Lord.  I know that you will
personally
be interested in the results of the bloodwork.”  With this the emissary took a few hurried steps forward, offering up the report to his master.  He held his breath, observing his master reviewing the document, he
knew
that he was going to be well rewarded for this, already salivating at the prospect.

Instead the blow came from seemingly nowhere, the edge of the device catching the emissary just under the eye, before it fell to the marble floor of the surrounding fireplace, shattering.  Looking up into the murderous expression of his master, the emissary realised that he’d made a grievous mistake.

“What are these lies?” the master spat, a blood vessel bulging dangerously from his forehead.  “You think to come here, stand in front of me and present these falsehoods as fact?”

“There can be no mistake, my Lord.  I insisted that the technician re-run the tests, three times, the bloodwork is an exact match for—”

The next blow from the master sent the emissary reeling backwards, falling to the floor near his master’s feet.

“These are lies and falsehoods, perpetrated by traitors, trying to sow conflict and discord.  The punishment for either is death.  I expect it to be carried out, immediately.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the emissary stammered.  “I’ll see to it personally.”

“Who else knows of this?”

“Nobody.  I swear, my Lord.  Only the technician that carried out the test, me and you.”

“Then kill the man, his family and all of his co-workers.  Raise the building where he worked to the ground.  Let this be a warning to all who try and tout these kinds of lies.”

“It’ll be done, immediately, my Lord.”

“And what of you, my emissary.  How can I guarantee your silence?  How do I know that it’s not you that’s peddling this sort of sedition?”

“I swear my Lord, I’m your most loyal servant.”  For the first time a hint of fear, and terror, crept into the man’s voice.

“In days of old, a test of will would be insisted upon, to prove a vassal’s fealty to his Lord.  I believe that traditionally a vassal would walk along a bed of red-hot coals to demonstrate his dedication.”  The master glanced at the floor impassively.  “Obviously that is not a viable option, as the carpet is priceless and has been in the family for generations—”

“Thank you, my Lord,” the emissary babbled, grovelling repeatedly.

“—instead,” the master carried on regardless.  “You’ll just have to accede to this test of commitment in another way.”  The master withdrew the white hot, still glowing poker from the fire, turning it to point the tip at his servant.  “Now, I would suggest that you don’t move, as I wouldn’t want you to lose an eye.”

The master raised the glowing tip until it was inches from the man’s cheek.

A bead of sweat ran from the emissary’s forehead as the man remained absolutely still, his gaze fixated on the glowing tip.  The sizzle of burning flesh, mingled with his screams of pain, as the side of his cheek was forever branded with flames.  Starting just under his eye, the scar ran almost to his chin.

A permanent reminder of the painful cost of his failure.