The Death: The Complete Trilogy

by John W. Vance

  “Lori, our guests have arrived,” Horton said and gave her a wink.

  Her knees trembled and almost buckled. “David, Eric, it’s you. You’re here?’

  “Mom,” Eric sang and ran into her arms.

  David approached her too, but allowed Eric to take his time.

  She embraced Eric tightly, kissing him on the head and face.

  David fidgeted as he waited for his turn to greet his estranged wife.

  “Get in here,” she said, insisting David just step in and create a circle of love.

  Encouraged by her insistence, he stepped forward, arms open, and embraced her.

  She cocked her head to kiss him, but he cocked his head, and her lips made contact with his cheek.

  “I was very worried about you. So glad you’re safe,” David said.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she replied. She meant that but wished it wasn’t here. Having them here complicated her mission.

  Like a voyeur, Horton stood and watched with pleasure the three get reacquainted. “So sweet, I love family reunions.”

  Lori put her eyes on his and leered.

  This look from her gave him greater pleasure, as he had struck first and hard in their battle. “Why don’t we all sit and talk at the dinner table. You can catch up there.”

  With the three sitting and chatting, Horton wheeled in a cart. The clanging glass got everyone’s attention.

  “Drink anyone?” Horton asked.

  “Yes, I’ll have one,” David said, his eyes fawning over the assortment of decanters.

  Lori felt her gut tense when she saw the decanters. Her instinct was to tell David not to drink, but that would seem alarming. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention that something might be wrong with the alcohol. So she chose to steer David. “Go ahead. I’d suggest the vodka. It’s good, and I know you love vodka martinis.”

  David raised his head, intrigued to try the vodka. Also the suggestion of a martini sounded so good to him. “Lori knows me like no one else. I’ll have a vodka martini with olives, if you have any.”

  “We do have olives, but are you a whiskey man at all?” Horton asked.

  “Years ago, but I prefer vodka.”

  Lori put her hand on David’s and said, “Ole reliable.”

  Those were the opposite words David needed to hear. He found them disrespectful and degrading coming from her. For him it was like her again telling him he was boring, and that word had come up when he first confronted her about the affair years ago. “You know, I do like to step out of the box now and then.”

  “I like a man who lives a little,” Horton said. He grasped the decanter of whiskey and held it up. “This is one of my favorites, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it too. I prefer to drink it over a handful of ice.”

  The sight of the poisoned bottle of whiskey almost sent Lori into a full-fledged panic. Her heart was pounding, and she searched for a way to prevent David from drinking it. “David, I’ve had it; it’s just okay. I’d really suggest the vodka.”

  “No, I think I’ll go with the whiskey. Sometimes I don’t want to be ‘ole reliable’.”

  Hearing the words come back at her made her cringe.

  Horton poured a glass and handed it to David. He looked at Eric and asked, “How about Eric? You want a taste?”

  “Absolutely not, he’s just a boy,” Lori exclaimed.

  “Oh, come on, I’m a man in this world,” Eric protested, sitting straighter in his chair.

  “Last I checked, you weren’t even old enough to vote,” Lori countered.

  “Vote and old enough sound like constructs of the past. Let the young man have a man’s drink,” Horton said.

  “Yeah, Eric is a man in my eyes. Plus we’re not going to get drunk here, just enjoy a cocktail,” David said.

  Feeling outnumbered but undeterred, she continued to resist Eric having a drink. She didn’t want David to drink, but how could she really stop him. Eric, on the other hand, she had a say in his upbringing. “I insist, Eric will not be drinking.”

  “This is stupid; I’m no longer a kid. If you were ever around, you’d see that!” Eric said, his face flush with anger.

  “I’m still your mother, and I say no.”

  “Mother, ha. Some mother you are,” Eric blasted her.

  Lori dug her nails into her right thigh. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She fought the urge to smack him in the mouth and send him to his room.

  David watched the dustup and didn’t get involved. He wanted her to hear how Eric felt about her. Deep down he wanted her to feel the pain he felt; he wanted her to know what it was like to know someone you love has pulled away from you.

  “Chancellor, if I can have a little, that would be nice,” Eric said boldly in an attempt to be manly.

  Lori just shut down and didn’t know what to do; then a drastic idea came to mind. She stopped digging in her leg and placed her right hand on the steak knife. Her fingers folded around the handle and she held it firmly. If she had to die saving her son, then so be it. Frozen in place as she convinced herself that killing Horton now was the only way, a warm hand touched hers.

  Horton bent over and whispered, “This isn’t the whiskey you think it is.”

  The blood drained out of her face.

  He patted her hand and said for all to hear, “You know, this knife looks dirty. Let me get you a new one.” He unrolled her closed fist and removed the blade.

  David and Eric weren’t paying much attention as they chitchatted about the whiskey.

  Lori barely ate her salad, using her fork more for pushing around the food than eating it.

  David and Eric gushed about each bite.

  Eric had even taken a second drink, and its effects were starting to show as he became more vocal with an occasional word slurred.

  The chef appeared from the kitchen with four plates. Around the table he went placing them, starting with Lori.

  She looked at the plate, and the food looked amazing. Several slices of loin lay perfectly presented in the center with roasted Brussel sprouts at the top of the plate and a creamy polenta at the bottom. Her appetite was still absent following Horton’s admission that he was aware of her poisoning the whiskey.

  “Bon appétit, everyone,” Horton said.

  “Oh my God, this is amazing,” David raved as he took his knife, sliced another piece of loin and dipped it into the thick sauce that accompanied it.

  “This is so good,” Eric added.

  “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it. As Lori knows, my chef is one of the best,” Horton bragged.

  “Is that so?” David smirked with his mouth full, looking at Lori.

  Lori had tried to eat but found it impossible. Her appetite was completely gone. She caught David’s hateful gaze but ignored it.

  The dinner finished with shallow but pleasant conversation between Horton, David and Eric. Lori stayed quiet except for the few times she acknowledged a question, and then it was just a yes or no answer.

  A range of emotions ran through her as she watched her husband and son. They seemed like strangers in some ways. A distance she hadn’t felt before was between them, and she hated it.

  The chef appeared one more time but now presented a cake. The three-tiered cake was covered in a thick chocolate frosting, and on the very top written in icing was ‘Welcome Home, Lori’.

  Seeing the cake and inscription, Lori clenched her jaw.

  “Who wants a piece of cake?” Horton asked.

  “I do, I do!” Eric said, sounding like a kid.

  “Why not? It looks delicious,” David said.

  Lori sat speechless, and when Horton insisted, she shook her head.

  “Very well, two slices of cake,” Horton said and nodded to the chef, who promptly cut the cake and laid it on small plates in front of David and Eric.

  Like the dinner, Lori remained quiet while David, Eric and Horton chatted.

  For Lori, the time seemed to drag on forever. With the
attempt to poison him gone, she needed to find a way to do it but how and when. His suspicions were raised now that he knew she had made an attempt.

  David patted his belly and leaned back against the tall dining chair. “That was so good. What was the sauce on the pork?”

  “It was a truffle reduction sauce, but I had the chef add a surprise ingredient tonight courtesy of Lori.”

  “What was it?” David asked.

  Lori looked at David, and then pivoted towards Horton, her brow curled and skin ashen.

  Horton looked at Lori and said, “Please, Lori, share with us all, what was the special ingredient?”

  She didn’t need to ask him what he was referring to, she knew. Her body grew rigid, and tears began to stream down her face.

  Horton abruptly stood and signaled to a camera in the corner.

  A half-dozen armed guards burst through the front door and ran into the dining room.

  David and Eric looked all around, confused by what was happening. David looked at Lori and asked, “What did you do?”

  Horton loved these types of moments; he had always enjoyed the big reveals. So often the things he and the Order had done went without anyone’s knowledge, and he disliked that. He knew why he enjoyed these reveals, it was because he loved to show off just how smart or cunning he was. He walked around the table once and took his place at the head of the table before speaking. “I had the best time tonight. Getting to know you and your wonderfully bright son was a treat,” he said to David. “However, in all things there is so often collateral damage that is done. One cannot build a new world without destroying the old, and one cannot have a new relationship without one ending.”

  “Chancellor, you’re scaring us. You’re scaring my son,” David said, his arm outstretched across Eric’s torso.

  “Mr. Roberts, you and your son have been nothing but pawns on my chessboard. I brought you here so I could keep you close so that when Lori returned, she could watch what remains of her family die.”

  Lori had heard enough. She pounced from the table and lunged at Horton with a fork in her hand.

  Two guards grabbed her quickly and forced her back in her seat.

  “Damn you, Goddamn you!” she screamed.

  Horton laughed and continued, “Earlier today, Lori put poison in this decanter.” He pulled an empty decanter from the tray and placed it on the table. “I don’t know what it was, but I figured it would be fun to see just what it did, hence our little dinner party tonight.”

  “Damn you to hell!” Lori screamed.

  “That wonderful loin had a truffle and whiskey reduction sauce, and dessert looked magnificent. That was a whiskey-infused chocolate cake.”

  “What have you done?” David asked, first looking at Horton then to Lori.

  “All I did was give you the poison that your lovely wife gave me. If there’s an antidote, you look to her for that,” Horton explained.

  “Lori, what was it?” David asked.

  “I’m so sorry. Believe me, I’m so sorry,” she cried, tears freely flowing from her eyes.

  “Lori, what was the poison?” David asked, his face gripped with fear.

  Eric bent over and began to puke.

  Horton looked repulsed when Eric began to throw up. He turned to one of his men and ordered, “Get them out of here; send them to the lab. Tell Doctor Mueller to monitor them.”

  Four guards grabbed them and pulled them forcibly out of their chairs.

  Lori struggled to free herself, but it was futile, the two men easily overpowered her.

  “Don’t hurt them, please; I’ll do whatever you want!” Lori pleaded.

  “I’m not hurting them, Lori, you are. I only used the whiskey you poisoned in our meal. Now if you have an antidote, then I’ll let you give it to them.”

  “I don’t have anything, I don’t know if there’s an antidote or not,” she answered, her eyes begging for mercy.

  David and Eric cried out as they were rushed off towards their fate.

  Horton walked over to Lori and looked down. “What exactly did you put in the whiskey?”

  “I can’t remember exactly, polonium something.”

  “Hmm, polonium, never heard of it,” Horton snapped.

  “Please, I’ll do anything, anything at all, just try to help them.”

  He leaned over till he was just a few inches from her face and said, “You had your chance to live in the new world but gave it all away. You think I want you back? I only wanted you back to punish you. Guards, take her away.”

  “Where to?” one guard asked.

  “To the lab with her family, let her witness what her actions have caused.”

  The guards hauled her up by her arms and dragged her away.

  Horton sauntered from the dining room into his office and picked up the phone. It rang several times until someone answered it.

  “Doctor Mueller here.”

  “Doctor, Chancellor Horton. I have some new test subjects coming your way. The man and boy have been poisoned with polonium; put them in a space together. I also have a woman coming down too. Sedate her, then—”

  Mueller interrupted him and asked, “Where did you get the polonium-210? That is extremely rare.”

  “Never mind that, let’s get back to the woman. Listen carefully; I need you to do exactly as I say.”

  Pine Bluffs, Wyoming

  The magistrate hit the red button on the satellite phone handset and placed it on his desk. He chewed on his lip and leaned back in the thick leather office chair and began to rock. The call had come from a source inside the DIA, and the report was not what he had wanted to hear.

  He picked up the phone again and touched a couple keys but stopped short of pressing the green call button. His eyes rolled in his head as he pondered whether he should make the call or not. The other parts of his plan were in motion. It had taken him a long time to get to this point, but if Lori had been found out, then the plan might not come together at all. He had to assume he had been compromised and the other parts would also fall apart as well. His thumb still hovered over the green call button. If he hit the button, he’d call off the operation and order his forces to fall back to a predetermined rally point and regroup. They knew her part of the operation could be a failure, so they had made a contingency just in case. However, he didn’t want to stop it, the wheels were in motion and they could still be successful. He pressed the green button, and the phone clicked then began to ring.

  “Martin here.”

  “This is the magistrate. What’s your location?”

  “An hour outside of the drop-off for Captain Priddy.”

  “How long before you’re in place?”

  “Three hours. Have we gotten word from Ms. Roberts?”

  The magistrate paused. His natural desire was to tell him the truth, but to do so would force him to question the operation’s success. He needed Martin and Travis still moving towards their objectives, but he didn’t want to sacrifice his Scraps. They were good people and he needed them.

  “We haven’t gotten word from her, but a source there has told me she failed. I need you to contact your second in command in Denver. Tell everyone to fall back to their secondary rendezvous points and wait further instructions.”

  “Roger that,” Martin said. “I’ll contact Captain Priddy and have him wave off too.”

  “No, he needs to proceed.”

  “But, sir, that was not part of our contingency.”

  “The bomb needs to go forward. We always talked about doing this, so let’s do it.”

  Martin was silent as he contemplated this shift in the plan.

  “Are you there?” the magistrate asked.

  “I’m here, sir. I’ll contact my people, but I’m requesting I go forward with Captain Priddy.”

  “No, I can’t lose you now.”

  “If you want this to happen, then me going with him helps ensure that. Remember, he only has one hand.”

  The magistrate gripped the
phone tighter, he hated to be questioned, but Martin was right and he couldn’t argue with him. “Go with him. Priority is to plant the bomb, secondary is getting patient zero and third is reclaiming Ms. Roberts. Keep Captain Priddy under control and focused on the priorities.”

  “I’ll try, sir, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be successful.”

  “And you know what to do if you get caught?”

  “Yes, sir, I realize what I’m risking here.”

  “Very well, good luck. We’re going to evacuate the town and move towards our secondary location. I hope to see you there soon.”

  “Take care, sir,” Martin said and hung up.

  The magistrate put the satellite phone down and stood up. He walked around his large desk and exited his office. In a small waiting room just outside, his aide was busy writing. “Get in touch with Carolyn and Franklin. Order an evac. We’re falling back to our secondary. This is a priority evac; we leave in an hour.”

  Hour North of Denver International Airport

  Travis took the helmet from inside the Humvee and began to slam it against the hood violently.

  Martin had asked once for him to stop but soon realized he needed to vent. Knowing he cared for her made him resist pressing the issue.

  One hard slam after another Travis brought the helmet down until he heard the fiberglass hood crack and splinter. He inspected the damage but still hadn’t exhausted his fury and hit the hood three more times before stopping.

  “Can we get down the road now?” Martin asked.

  Travis walked back and forth the length of the Humvee. He stopped when he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the rear driver’s side window. He looked at himself sporting the green camouflage uniform of the Marine Corps but with a different name tab sewn above the angled top right pocket. Disgusted by himself and everything, he took the helmet and slammed it into the window. The impact from his Kevlar helmet did nothing to the inches-thick ballistic glass. Angry that his attempt failed to break it, he swung his arm back to hit it again.

  Martin had seen enough. He grabbed his arm and said, “Enough. Take your anger out on our mutual enemy not our vehicle.”