by P. S. Power
Which isn’t why he’d had that unfortunate car accident. That part was simply icing on the cake. Unlike the pedophile school instructors that were going to be killed in prison after they were tried for their crimes, who weren’t important to him. Connor didn’t care if they died or not. They hadn’t crossed him, after all. They’d been turned in to get attention placed on the Headmaster, nothing more. That the parents of the boys had hired the men to rape them like that was awful, of course.
Not that he hadn’t caught wind of such things, before leaving school. Everyone trusted him with their secrets, after all. That meant he’d heard things that he probably shouldn’t have, many times already. Even in the last few minutes, it had happened.
Waving, he smiled back at the woman as he walked away. She was interesting, after all. It was rude for Laveen to touch her, but Connor could kind of understand why he did it. There was a certain allure to the lady. An unspoken, but nearly tangible thing. One that he was pretty certain was called, breasts. It took a bit of will for him to turn and walk away, instead of noticing that about the woman with too lingering a gaze. She was there to do a job, after all.
Taking drinks in to the men who were probably having an interesting conversation just about then. When the door opened, there was shouting coming from inside. Meaning that the thing was nearly sound proof, when closed.
Interestingly, it wasn’t Stephen who was yelling, just the other man. Losing his mind, after having told the wrong truth, to the wrong person.
Thinking for a bit, Connor walked back to his room. A place that had been ready for him when he’d gotten in the day before. It held things inside of it. Clothing, wall posters for people he couldn’t recognize and several varied gadgets. All unpacked. All clearly brand new. Sitting on a desk, waiting for him to use them. The room held personality, which indicated a professional had done the decorating of it. One that didn’t know him at all. He was used to bare walls and very few distractions in his living space. Not that it bothered him to have objects to use.
He just didn’t know what all of them were.
Rather than play with anything, as interesting as that idea was, he changed from his now useless school uniform, into running gear. Sweat pants and a heavy shirt, along with trainers. Then, not being totally certain where he was going, being unfamiliar with his own home as he was, Connor headed out for a run.
That had been his habit for years, after all. First a run, then a swim in the pool. He didn't know if they had that kind of thing there at all. A pool. After all, he’d only been inside the building once, so far. The place was huge, and had a wall around the complex. There were outbuildings as well, but what they held, he had no clue at all.
He walked to the outside door, then jogged instantly, after that. The morning air was cool and damp, a low fog lingering in the area. It covered the huge gray stone building well enough to leave him feeling uneasy about the scene. As if it were a fantasy castle. One that held demons, ghosts and strange, probably mad, scientists. Once he started running, he sped up a little.
Trying to either stay warm, or just possibly, get away from his life.
Neither of those things really happened.
Chapter two
It was a slow and boring hour later when Connor started back toward the extremely large stone building. Calling it a castle probably wouldn't have been over the top for a normal person. Living in a castle would be, though no one had ever asked his opinion on the matter. Really, Connor had spent a lot more time eating bugs in the woods than in a building like the one in front of him. From the back it had five visible levels, complete with towers off to either side that stuck up. Not that majestically, since they only went one level beyond what was probably the attic space on the rest of the building.
The truth was that he'd never been all the way up there to see what was there. He'd only been at the house once before, since it had been bought after the death of his mother. While he was away at school. That had been about four years before, when asbestos had been found in the dorms at Etain. They’d had to close for three weeks to clean it all out, and no one had set up a trip to the woods anywhere that Connor could have survived in the middle of winter.
There hadn’t been nearly as many people at the castle back then. About fifty or so, all of them busily not paying attention in his direction, for the most part. He hadn’t been locked in his room or anything evil sounding like that, but his father hadn’t been there, being busy with something or other that didn't have a kid attached to it and the staff weren’t babysitters or nannies, so he’d been placed in his room with a strong suggestion that staying out of the way would be the best plan.
Not wanting to be shocked into compliance, he’d done exactly that at the time. Even if the Etain harness hadn’t been required wear while he’d been there. It hadn’t been in the wilds, either, which was the best part of getting away from the school, even if it was cold and hard at times to stay alive on his breaks.
The out buildings were all inside the stout gray stone wall, looking like smaller versions of the main house. Minute castles, missing only flags and draw bridges to complete the picture. Possibly some little dragons could have been gotten in as well, to sell the whole thing, if they wanted to push into that direction. So, interesting, while also being too much by far. Two of those small buildings were still nearly as big as his old dormitory building at Etain. That, the entire campus there, had been done in a newer seeming style. Red brick, with white columns to give the place an air of being educational.
Connor had certainly learned a lot there. Most of it being about how awful human beings really were. Even at the school there had been rumors about the rest of the world being better than it was there. Safer and not as painful. It was a thing that Connor thought might be true, even if there was nothing like that in his memory. There were some hints from his childhood, back when his mother was alive. A lot of that was hazy though and not clear at all. The brief flashes he got of the dark-haired woman from his youth painted her as lovely, but also kind of mean to him. Angry and wicked seeming. That and large patches of emptiness, instead of things that he’d learned at the time.
His peaceful run, a thing he enjoyed more than being punished for not doing, was broken up in an annoying fashion as the edge of the building was rounded. Mainly by the yelling going on. The drizzling rain and fog gave the scene a rather surreal air. Like he was outside of a real castle. One being invaded by wacky characters from a movie or television program. Connor hadn’t watched a lot of those, but had seen them a few times, so that he’d know what they were.
"Stop right there! Announce yourselves. Now!" The man speaking had three other black suited men behind him. All of them looked angry about their current job, which seemed to be about getting weapons ready and scowling. Each of them also had fine black ear piece in, visible due to their nearly matching, rather short haircuts. Those were very close to Connors own, more or less. Crew-cuts, or something near to that style.
At Etain the boys had short hair. It was a rule.
In front of the angry seeming yelling men were two people. A man and a woman. That or a very young man, who had decent curves at the hips and a hidden set of breasts under his clothing. They were both in blue work shirts, that said Lectricians Heating and Cooling instead of their names over the left breast. At least the logo seemed to match up with the red and white version on the side of the light blue van behind then.
One of the guards looked up at him, flinching as he did it. He was off to the side, the one in charge probably being the one in front, who had his hand on his waist, under his coat, ready to draw a pistol from a holster. That was away from Connor, so he couldn't tell what kind of weapon it was. The stance was familiar, since it was one of the things that he'd been taught to look for, in case he was ever attacked.
It was tempting to run away, since he was well dressed for it and that action made perfect sense to him. By training it was nearly one of his secret super powers. Not only would he
fight at need, but he could flee with the best of them and not feel bad about it later. If anyone wanted to think he was afraid or a little girl, then they could, for all he cared. The problem wasn't fifty feet away though. He'd rounded the building and ended up right on top of the van, which put him not ten feet away from the two, rather suspicious, electricians. Grimacing a bit, he took three large steps forward, his hands up, so the men that worked for his father wouldn't shoot him as readily.
Not that they would understand who he was. Connor had been there so rarely that no one would be expected to think of him as belonging in his own home.
"Hello! Um, not to be pushy, but what's going on here?" Not that he really wanted to know. It would just be easier to have everyone tell him the truth than for the guards to do the same thing. Moving to where he was placed him only a few feet behind the black man and the white lady. The man was a bit older looking, though seemed fit enough. The woman was a bit chunky. In a cute way, really.
She had a nice face, when she turned around and started speaking to him. Directly and without hesitating or managing a good fake story at all.
"We're with the FBI and trying to trick our way in here… Really, this is being done on the fly and we don’t have a good plan at all. We also don't have a warrant and can't get one, since we aren't here officially. We put an asset inside, wearing a wire, but frankly this is an exploratory mission. That, the wire, went dead about an hour ago, when he went in. I'm truly about to lose my shit here. If he's dead, we're fucked."
That sounded a little bit different than he would have figured. After all, they had that great van, with matching shirts. There was even a tool box in the hands of the black fellow. He spun, staring at the female with him. Real fear crossed his face then.
"Jesus shit, Denise! They pretty much have to shoot us now!" He looked about ready to go for his own side arm, dropping the box as he threw his shirt out of the way.
Connor reached out, touching the man on the back. He'd been getting ready to pull the guy to him, even to hit him but that wasn't needed. The man just went still, his entire body relaxing. Before the woman could respond, Connor tapped her too, holding his right hand on her back.
The four guards pulled their weapons then. Of interest they didn't aim at him in particular. Even if they didn't know who the hell he was. It showed a certain intelligence from them really. After all, he was the one with all the FBI agents, holding still and not fighting, even if they’d been ready to a moment before.
Connor appreciated that. Given that his training had been designed to force him to fight instantly if weapons came out in his direction, that might not have ended well for him. There were four of them, after all. Even one on one against a gun was a death sentence, most of the time if you were unarmed.
"Um, how about we put the weapons away? These people won't hurt anyone." They couldn't, while he touched him.
The dark skinned man on his left moved then, lifting his shirt, placing the side arm back in the holster. It looked to be a thirty-eight, which wasn't that powerful as far as such things went. Not if anyone had bullet resistant armor on. The guards looked to be covered that way. For his part, he wasn't, just wearing gray sweat clothes for his exercise.
Really, part of him wanted to strip down and go swimming, due to long habit. At Etain, the boys didn’t wear swimsuits for that kind of thing. Probably so that the pervy instructors could get a free show and see who they wanted to sodomize later. It did make it easier to shower and move from one activity to another, he had to admit.
It was cool enough outside that his perspiration was uncomfortable in places, now that he'd stopped moving. Oddly sticky, even if the weather was wrong for that kind of thing. That these would be invaders didn’t take that into account before trying to get their man back was an oversight, no doubt. As if his minor comfort wasn’t the most important thing in the world, or something like that. He nearly had to shake his head, thinking that.
He made his voice calm and polite sounding, since that was what he'd been trained to do when under stress. Letting your voice raise under pressure would be instantly punished. Then you'd get a second jolt from the training harness if you screamed in pain. If you hurt, the best thing to do was to go as silent as possible.
"Why don't we find someplace a bit more private to talk? I'm certain that we can find..." He nearly said Mr. Laveen, since that was clearly the person that these two were looking for. It occurred to him that he didn't know if they had any recording devices on them. A wire, as they'd spoken of.
So he asked.
"Say, are you recording this, by any chance?"
The black agent looked at him, not bothering to shake his head or nod. People didn't, most of the time, when he was touching them. That he'd put the gun away when asked was interesting though. He'd asked people questions in the past, so knew they'd answer if he did it while in contact with them, even if they didn't want to. It appeared that people might also follow simple instructions as well.
Which was useful, in the moment.
The voice that came out was quiet. Not forced at all. Not angry or upset either. Just blank and dead sounding. Like he was drugged or incredibly sleepy.
"Naw. We didn't have time to set anything like that up. Besides, this is illegal. The whole op here. Enough that it can't hold up in court. We can try to retrieve an asset in danger, even without a warrant. The wire going dead might not count for that. If we go in based on that and he isn’t injured or dead, then the whole thing is against the law. Normally that wouldn’t hurt us much. We’re going after a billionaire here though, so we’re probably fucked."
The woman, speaking at the same time, just said a single word. Answering the question without a long commentary. Why that kind of thing happened he didn't really know. Probably that the man was smarter than the woman was. That or she didn't think of the topic as particularly important in the moment.
"No." Her voice was no more animated than her partner’s.
"Ah. Well, we should call after your friend, then. Do you have a name for him? There are a lot of people here. We’ll want the right one." Not that he'd seen them all, but interestingly enough, the dark-skinned man nodded.
"Right. Over a hundred and fifty at any given time. A lot of them suspicious, not just guards or employees. We're looking for Leland Laveen."
Without being asked, standing about twenty feet away from Connor, the man who looked to be the head guard for the moment touched his ear.
"We need a location and report on a Leland Laveen, if possible. He should be..." The man looked at the two agents, and spoke loudly.
"Do you know who he was supposed to be meeting with?"
No one spoke for a moment, the two FBI people just standing there, their faces looking a bit dumb. Slack and out of it.
So Connor repeated the question.
"Do you know who he was meeting with today?"
That got two responses, both at nearly the same time.
"Stephen Harriman. Our target."
Scowling a bit, head guard touched his ear again.
"He might be with Mr. Harriman." There was a pause, then the man nodded after about half a minute.
Everyone else there was a bit restless, except the two he was touching. They were calm and relaxed, almost drugged seeming. A thing that showed how cool he was, when it came to that sort of thing, Connor didn’t doubt. One tap from him was the same as going to a spa or taking the good drugs, except no one would remember it later. No one asked him what was up with that, he noticed. That probably meant they'd been told about him already. Being that they also kept their distance, that sounded likely.
After all, the two FBI agents were being held in place only by his hand being on their backs. It was working, but you generally tried to disarm dangerous people, it such situations. If they were there without a warrant, then they were just breaking in or trying to, even if they were with the government. The security there would be allowed to stop them, given that. Even if it meant hold
ing them at gun point and stripping them of weapons.
Instead, those had all been put away. Meaning they were trusting in his ability to protect them all. It should. Even if he broke contact with them, they'd be too dazed to move for about fifteen seconds or so.
Head guard nodded after a moment. One in which he was clearly listening to something. Then, after another minute, he stood a bit straighter.
"Right away, sir." Looking at his men, then glancing at Connor, the man gave a single, choppy, nod. "We need to move them to Mr. Harriman's office. That will require maintaining at least fifteen feet from the man in gray here. I'll lead with Smyth. Babbage and Crinner are in the rear. Condition bravo." The fellow stopped, looked at Connor and actually explained. “That means we shoot if they try to run. If that starts to happen, get down as fast as possible. We won’t shoot at you, but bullets don’t really care who you are once they start flying. They’re very egalitarian that way.”
When the men moved, as if it were something they'd practiced. The men moving in behind them were a bit too close, given their orders. That showed when one of them spoke suddenly.
"This can't go well. Kidnapping FBI... We're fucking screwed."
It wasn't muttered and the man started to keep going, saying something a bit strange.
"The fat bitch has a cute ass though. At least the view won’t be all bad. We should fuck her first, before killing her."
The man in charge, who didn't have a name yet that Connor knew, cleared his throat.
