The Paladin's Redemption

by Richard Crofton

  “I don’t think that’s it, dear,” he had retorted with a similar tone. “I think you just can’t stand the thought of me having ‘my kind of fun’ with other young ladies out there instead of with you. The thought of me enjoying myself over here, while you’re stuck over there having to recover from your losses last night, just irritates you to no end, doesn’t it? You, hard at work, envying me, having a grand ol’ time.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she had snapped. “Whatever you do with your time off makes no difference to me as long as it doesn’t conflict with the interests and productivity of the Agency. If you choose to wreak havoc in Des Moines and should be caught by the authorities, usually I would tell you that you’d be on your own, that we would cut you off and refuse any kind of support. We’d let you face whatever charges you’d be found guilty with and allow you to rot in prison.”

  “Usually…” he had repeated.

  “Yes, under normal circumstances. But perhaps you’ve forgotten that some of the authorities here in Lancaster, who are not… on our payroll… so to speak, are determined to solve the mystery surrounding you. They’re rather interested in your relationship with Megan Panco, and more so with your sudden and complete disappearance off the grid. I don’t have to remind you of all the noise you made during your stay here. If you start to make noise over there, some of them may see a connection.”

  “They’d never catch me,” Sonny had boasted.

  “No doubt,” Diana had replied, not missing a beat, “but I don’t believe you’re thinking things through very well, dear.”

  “Enlighten me,” he had said through gritted teeth.

  He had heard her sigh through the phone. “The Agency is working to manipulate the media and the local authorities as we speak. We want their attention on last night’s attacker, especially now that the community lost its valiant police chief and beloved pastor by his hand. With the correct strings pulled, they’ll tie all the other crimes to him as well. This Keeper is to be the primary suspect, being the more tangible one, while you will eventually fade from the scene like a phantom.

  “Now,” she had continued, “should you happen to do something foolish while on your ‘vacation,’ and the authorities notice a pattern that puts them back on your trail, I don’t think the Agency will be quite pleased with you, not after they’ve taken great pains to prevent this. They may consider you a liability and pursue you as well. They will certainly cut off your resources and freeze your accounts.”

  Sonny had found himself suddenly unable to think of anything witty to throw back at her. She was good, no denying it.

  “And then,” she had gone on, “you’d most likely grab the attention of this rogue Keeper of White as well. He’s just dying to cross paths with you, dear.”

  “Not that that worries me,” he had cut in, curiosity having helped him find his voice, “but what the hell does he want with me?”

  “It should worry you,” she had taunted, almost giggling in his ear. “I’ve seen what he can do. But as I said, it’s not a matter to discuss at this time. This phone conversation has already gone on much longer than I had cared for it to, due to your need for useless bantering. My point is that if you don’t follow your rather simple instructions and wind up giving in to your childish need for attention, well you’d wind up drawing the attention of the law, the agency, and this Keeper. My, my, my… you’d certainly have your hands full then, wouldn’t you, dear? So do try to be a good boy and stay out of trouble.”

  She had been taking shots at him left and right at that point, and there had been nothing he could do or say to retake control of this so-called useless bantering. She had him seething, and he knew she had become the one to find it all amusing by the end of the conversation. Any retort would had only exposed his emotions, and therefore put him in a weaker stance than in which he had already felt himself to be. His only play at this point had been to terminate the call, which he had done.

  More than one revelation of truth infected Sonny’s mind as he reflected on the recently unpleasant phone conversation. First and foremost, this was the real Diana Palmer on the other line. Not the seductive, placating Diana who was prone to quell his occasional expressions of discontent with pleasure and promises: tactics he knew she utilized to keep his ambitions at bay for the time being. Normally, whenever he doubted the Agency ever had serious plans for him, she was quick to assure him that he was their number one draft pick, filling his head with ideas of a future where he would hold the world by the balls. For the first time, she was speaking to him without that mask, without any mask for that matter, just Diana as she truly spoke. The suspicion he had already entertained about her, now that it was confirmed, infuriated him.

  Nevertheless, a second revelation occurred: without her or the support of the Agency, however phony they might be, his personal aspirations would not easily come to fruition. And though they relied on him to complete many tasks that required his special set of skills, without him, they would eventually find and cultivate another lackey to fulfill their needs. The hard truth, that he hated to admit, was that he currently needed them more than they needed him. If he were ever to hope to reverse such a status quo, he would have to play their game for now, as well as follow their rules. At least most of them.

  Even so, Sonny found it difficult to let the treatment Diana had dished to him slide. He had more than half a mind to call the young woman who would have served as the Circle’s sacrifice this coming August, pleasantly ask her to dinner, then use his well-rehearsed boyish charm until she would be eating out of his hand, until she would forego her better judgment and invite him over to her place for a drink or two. He could manipulate the situation to such an engagement easily; he had done so many times in the past. Then he would have his way with her, and oh, what pain and torment he could inflict upon her then. And every individual assault he would ensue upon her would be one act of defiance against the Agency after another, if only to send a message to them. The desire had grown in him so quickly, that he found himself now dialing August’s number.

  He knew that such a demonstration would return to him a sense of power and control that he now felt had been taken from him after his conversation with Diana, but it would also be short-lived. In the long run, what would his spite accomplish for him other than broken bridges, ones that would lead him to power and control over much more than just helpless young ladies who often fell for his stunning looks and suave personality? Besides, based on the brief account of last night’s failed attempt to continue the Cycle, it suddenly dawned on Sonny that promotions would be necessary to replace the fallen agents in the Inner Circles.

  This final revelation seeped into his thoughts just as August, whose real name was Janet, answered his call. He thought to hang up immediately, but he couldn’t just leave things alone without causing some type of harm.

  Instead of asking Janet out to dinner, he boldly informed her that his reason for having lunch with her the other day at the grocery store was due to a dare that his friends put him up to; a game that they referred to as “Score the Skank.” He explained to her in a cool, casual tone that she seriously couldn’t have thought he could find someone as repulsively disgusting as her to be even remotely attractive, that a mangled, paraplegic survivor of a plane crash would have a better chance at finding a man than she would. And he advised her with true sincerity that the world would be happier if she would end her own life to save her consumption of oxygen for everyone else. Then he ended the call after telling her to have a good day.

  Though the soft sounds of Janet’s weeping pleased Sonny as he hung up the phone, the sensation, like his sense of control, was short-lived. Uncertainty crept into his mind as he entered the stylish bathroom of his upscale apartment, for yet another revelation came to him. Diana had never brought to his attention during their conversation that there were now vacancies within the Inner Circles. If he were to be considered, she would have mentioned the possibility to him, even if it was sim
ply to hang a carrot over his head, to ensure he would follow instructions without question.

  Filling his head with ideas of a promising future among the Agents of Shadow was her forte’, especially when she needed something from him. He was not oblivious to the possibility of her leading him on, but that didn’t matter to him. He knew that his loyalty would earn him rewards, even if they were not as grand as she had often implied. Progress was progress. Though he had conducted his own sacrifices now and then, his knowledge of the dark arts was minimal, but the skills he did gain were unmatched by any other agent. He was an efficient killer, with strength and speed unlike any other, with no sense of remorse or doubt to hesitate his actions. And he could scheme and deceive so effectively to the point in which he was all but untouchable. He needed the Agency, needed Diana, in order to advance toward all that he desired, but they were not fools, not in the least. The last thing they would want was for their best infiltrator and assassin to feel dissatisfied.

  Still, Diana had not taken one second to remind him of his promising future over the phone that morning, had hung no carrot in front of him this time. Still, she had spoken to him with such disrespect. She had put him in his place, and she had probably enjoyed every second of it. Fucking women.

  On the other hand, it couldn’t have been much of an enjoyable morning for her, considering the disappointing night she had had. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the level of frustration she must have been feeling. Could he really blame her if she had taken it out on him, simply because he was the one on the other end of the line? He was quite certain that Madsen, and anyone else unfortunate enough to be in her presence for more than five minutes had received a verbal onslaught far worse than he had.

  She and the others had been with the Agency far longer than he. They had failed to complete the Cycle of a Dark Year in the past, back when he was just a troubled little boy whose only record of malice had been torturing stray cats and pulling the wings off of butterflies, back when he knew nothing of this secret society. They had planned this year out so meticulously, had begun planning years in advance, had come so far in the Cycle, had such high hopes of long sought-after success. Only to witness it all fall apart in their faces yet again. It seemed only natural that she would be too put out to tolerate any rebellious comments he had thrown at her with placation.

  Still… do try to be a good boy and stay out of trouble…

  Sonny splashed cool water from the bathroom sink against his face, looked up at his perfect reflection in the wall-length mirror, and unperfected it as he struck it with his right fist, forming a spider web of cracks within the glass.

  Turning from the disfigured sight of himself, he removed his clothing and stepped into the shower, deciding he should get started on his involuntary vacation. As he washed himself, he began citing Hamlet’s soliloquy from Act II, Scene II.

  He would remain loyal and obedient. What choice did he really have? He would continue to satisfy Diana however she liked and remain in her favor. He would continue to allow her to satisfy him whenever the mood was right, especially since she excelled in such areas of pleasure. He would continue to do her bidding as long as it earned him the right to move up in the ranks of the Agency.

  But he would never forget the way she had spoken to him that morning. That, he would hide deep within the crevices of his heartless soul, far below her ability to detect it, only to reveal it in time, when the status quo would change.

  Chapter II

  Deputy Barry Dill sat as comfortably as possible behind the wheel of his police cruiser, parked semi-secretly in a narrow clearing between two separate collections of brush off the shoulder of Route 30 on the eastbound side. The vehicle sat perpendicular to the highway with its engine idle, ready to respond to Barry’s commands should the need for pursuit arise. Not that the Chester County police deputy expected much action on this lazy Thursday afternoon. The road was fairly clear, save for the occasional semi that barreled through. Checking the clock on the display panel and noting the time to be shortly after 1 p.m., most commuters had finished their lunch breaks and safely returned to whatever sites at which they were employed. Of course that also meant, he knew, that the more open the road, the more likely he was to catch someone exceeding the speed limit.

  Though he vigilantly clocked each passing vehicle with his radar gun since the start of his watch, everyone had so far obeyed the rules of the road.

  Barry certainly didn’t mind the quiet setting. As far as he was concerned, the shift could crawl by more slowly than a lethargic snail. He’d been on the force for almost four years now, and though he was still young, not a veteran officer by far, he’d been around long enough to know there were other beats less pleasurable than this. With a population just short of eight thousand, Downingtown, PA was rather quiet compared to other parts of the county. And monitoring traffic along Route 30, this precise section more commonly referred to as Lincoln Highway, was a less stressful gig than the Pennsylvania Turnpike, which bypassed the town a little farther north, and was usually left in the hands of the more elite state troopers anyway.

  While he was aware that a position with the PA state police would have more desirable benefits, as well as more excitement, Barry had been quite content as a county deputy, especially on this particularly peaceful Thursday afternoon. For the report passed down to him as he relieved the night shift in the morning, indicated that the state troopers had been set out like hornets whose nest had been smashed apart, as they have been apparently conducting a frantic search for a potentially dangerous suspect, possibly two suspects, who had committed arson upon an old schoolhouse in Amish country, then assaulted one of their own when he had attempted to apprehend them.

  State police had been patrolling the turnpike thoroughly through the night and well into the morning with no luck of finding the culprits, even though they had expanded the search radius by nearly double the standard protocol. Local law agencies had been advised to keep a lookout for a black sport bike, operated by a white male in his late twenties to early thirties, and a young woman described as a “blonde beauty.” It had definitely peaked Barry’s interest, but he secretly hoped that his patrol would continue on as uneventfully as it had carried on throughout the day.

  Southern Pennsylvania was well into its spring season, the air was pleasantly warm with a sky as clear as could be, and nature had nestled in quite comfortably with the songs of its wildlife, emitting a lethargic ambiance that seemed to permeate the deputy’s mood as he relaxed within such surroundings.

  Today was not a day for action, he thought, but he would respond to the call of duty should it arise; he prided himself as an officer of the law of course. He’d seen his fill of intense situations and handled them professionally. He was not a slacker or malingerer by any means. But he didn’t feel it was too selfish of him to secretly hope the suspects in question had either fled Lancaster County in a different direction than east, or had foolishly remained there. Besides, the exposure to the warm sun and gentle breeze that induced more yawns than his cup of coffee could prevent, he was on his last of a four-day rotation and was looking forward to having the next three days off. He and his girlfriend Nicole had every intention of taking full advantage of his first free weekend in over a month, as well as the promising weather forecast, by enjoying a nice camping trip in the Poconos, which would include some exciting whitewater rafting and nature hiking. Needless to say, he preferred to finish his last shift of the week with minimal paperwork.

  So far, so good, he thought to himself. Knock on wood. Immediately he made a fist and tapped himself on top of his head, smirking as he did so. It was a dumb joke, but it always made Nicole laugh. Either she never tired of the silly gesture, or was just too damn decent of a girlfriend to reveal her growing bored of it.

  Just as Barry presently stretched his arms to keep the blood flowing in his system, his eyes caught sight of a black pickup coasting eastbound along the highway past his position. There was nothing out o
f the ordinary other than the tarp covering something large within the bed, tied down with bungee cords. Normally, this wouldn’t alarm him, or any officer for that matter, until a sudden gust of wind happened to blow a small portion of the tarp briefly up to reveal a hint of what lay beneath. Although he only got a quick peep of a small piece, his young eyes weren’t mistaken when he identified it as the very back of a black motorcycle. A sport bike.

  It was a long-shot, a one-in-a-million chance that the truck carried the suspects from the report, and Barry had more than half a mind to lean back in his driver’s seat and continue his stretching. If he decided to tail the vehicle, it would most certainly turn out to be nothing, but with his luck, he’d be kicking himself repeatedly if he let it go and it turned out to be the same bike the authorities were looking for.

  That was a superstition he somehow developed over the years. Too many run-ins with Murphy’s Law, he supposed. When he had first become employed with the County Police Department, he had had the option of signing up for life insurance of up to a quarter of a million dollars for just over twelve dollars a month deducted from his salary. At the time he had no reason for it. No dependents in need of financial support should anything happen to him, but he signed on anyway, somehow convinced that just by doing so would ensure his survival, and that by denying coverage would, in turn, somehow doom him to some untimely death on the job. He remembered saying to himself that it would be “just my luck” being that one poor schmuck who didn’t sign up for coverage and wound up getting himself killed.

  Switching his cruiser in gear and cursing himself for not knocking on authentic wood, Barry pulled onto Lincoln Highway behind the truck.

  The driver was in no hurry, obeying the speed limit, and Barry couldn’t detect any signs of suspicion. Even the squeaky-clean drivers often nervously exerted themselves to show extra precautions when noticing a police cruiser behind them, but the Chevy Silverado in front of him remained steady, making carefree headway along the road, while Barry continued a casual, passive pursuit.