THE WICK OF WAR: Absolution
by T. Anwar Clark
COPYRIGHT © 2011 Trevor Anwar Clark
All characters, places, and events have no existence outside the imagination of the authors wherein and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same names, places, or events. Not even are they distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.
1. Valley’s End Apartments – 2012
Valley's End apartments was rather quiet on this sunny, summer afternoon. There were only a few kids at the playground and a couple of residents cooking outside on the grill. Hollywood was preforming stunts on his skateboard in the street, his dirty blond hair swaying with every jump, while Vegas sat on his bicycle, staying out of reach from the sun, under a tree.
After a while, Vegas looked at his watch to see that it was 3:20 and yelled over to his comrade that detective Krane was late, slyly coding his name by saying 'The Asshole.'
"When has he ever been on time!" stated Hollywood, kicking up his skateboard, heading toward Vegas.
"Your right... But I'd always be on time to get mine."
"Yeah, sure dude... Hey... you check out that new girl, Victoria? She just moved 'round here. She's been checking us out, bro... Major move. We can put her on the team."
"Woody!" exclaimed a serious toned Vegas. "Shit ain't that easy and you know it. That pledge is deep, man. We ain't even done it yet."
"Yeah... Once we're in, she's in."
"No... We stay out. We can't do anything anyway. Krane knows us and..."
"Krane... We own Asshole."
"He knows this ain't our money. He knows we get it from someone else. He can blackmail us if he really wanted. Plant somethin' on us an' get us pinched."
"No way... Dorchester 'ill come get us and..."
"We're minors, Einstein! Nobodies coming to rescue us but our parents"
Just then, a grey Ford Taurus pulled up fast, and with a frost-bitten smile across his face, Detective Donald Krane stepped out wearing an expensive Tailor made suit, ruffling with his Oakley shades. His face clean shaven. And uniformed officer stepped out from the passenger side, gradually making his way behind his superior, hands adjusting his sidearm holster, as if that was intimidating.
"Off the bike, drop the board, hands behind your heads." Krane ordered.
The boys did as they were told.
"You act like we did something!" retaliated Hollywood, while he was being patted down.
"You showing off for your new guinea pig? What you’re looking for is where it always is." said a mildly upset Vegas.
Krane reached around to Vegas' waist and retrieved an envelope, then looked inside before introducing his rookie partner as Officer Bryan Raymond and stating that twenty-five hundred a week won’t cut it anymore. They argued with the cops briefly, and then Hollywood walked off in a distance and made a cellular phone call. No one said anything during that brief and intense moment. They all just sort of admired their surroundings and waited for him to return.
"Man, theirs nothin' I can do right now. I'm waitin' on a call back." said Hollywood, upon his return. "It should work out for you. I guess dude is scramblin' up some 'ILL'-legal tender for ya'."
"Skip the wise cracks, punk." Krane pointed. "You girls have thirty minutes, and you better have something here." then he turned his back to them.
"Pleasure doin' business witcha." retorted Hollywood.
The detective and his partner headed back to their unmarked vehicle and once they started pulling off, he held up three fingers then curled them to form a circle representing a zero, and with his mouth he silently related, "Thirty minutes."
"Now that... was an asshole." said Vegas, shaking his head side-to-side.
"Yeah... A big... loose one."
"That idiot is puddin'."
"Hot puddin'." added Hollywood, now looking in his friends direction.
"Hot puddin' with a pink candle in the middle." Vegas affirmed.
"Listen, Devin said to give him an extra two grand and he'll make it up to us." Hollywood confessed.
"This Krane guy has to be a millionaire. He's got to be bankin' at least a... hundred-fifty large a year..."
"...Just off Devin." Hollywood finished.
"Plus he's gotta be makin' fifty a year or betta workin' the force."
"...And he wants more?"
"Greedy, man. He's never satisfied."
"Let's see how long this lasts."
"What?"
"Everything... He's been playing two sides of the law for years. He's been jackin' us up and pinning us to trees... fences... cars... and anything else since we were thirteen. We know the man's a murderer and extortionist. He's into blackmail and the whole nine. He can't keep gettin' away with shit like that."
"Yeah... It'll catch up to 'em... Let's go get the cash."
And the two of them made their way.
2. The X-Caliber Clubhouse Mansion
Surbenét's black, stretched hummer limousine arrived to a lavishly intimidating, 8,000 square foot Spanish-style villa, three story clubhouse mansion in the exclusively, secluded 'Cilice Estates' area of the city. As the entrance gate opened, it was easy to see that the property was worth an easy 8 million bucks, at least. The foursome stepped out of the limo, slowly walking to the massive sized doors of the establishment, admiring all the beauty of its landscape. A full-sized basketball court was partially visible from their angle, two teams running back and forward, the sounds of a waterfall, faintly arousing their fancy, and a hand full of workers on separate 4 wheelers, speeding off in a distance.
"No security? No cameras?" Questioned Yakima, while the chauffeur caught up, handling their lightly packed traveling bags.
Welcome home's and raised champagne bottles were salutations from a pleasantly scattered people threw out the over-sized main area of the house, surrounding the foyer. As the executive suited foursome made their way through the main doors, they were surrounded by the latest and most expensive electronics and specially made imported furniture, people playing video games, eating, and watching sports on multiple screens.
Although he has never been inside the establishment, Surbenét felt as if he had been there before, and made his way to a stone staircase that he and his entourage descended.
"Beautiful house." commented Yakima.
"Yes..." agreed Magenta. ”Everyone here seems so happy."
"The atmosphere is pleasant, isn't it." he concluded.
As they spiraled down the stone made stairway, they passed by surveillance cameras and masked men who appeared to be militant operatives dressed in all black fatigues, full body armor, and special ops 'scar 16S' command rifles or SIG 556 classics with 30 round magazines and mini red dot sights.
Forty feet below ground, the basement was a secret, underground training camp for all types of combat skills. It was the length of two basketball courts but as wide as four public school buses. As they reached the bottom they came across three golf carts and more guards. Everyone looked at Surbenét as he focused on the far end of the stone dwelling to see a steel door encrusted within the stones, and as he began to walk toward the carts, the women followed his lead.
The group came upon the door, passing a total of twenty extra guards, the door opened, and who was there to greet him? None other than Devin, his arms opened wide and the very overconfident words, "WELCOME HOME, BROTHER!" along with that. The two siblings made a hearty embrace, pounding on each other’s back, emotional from years of separation, and then walked through the steel door witnessing what looked to be hundreds of millions, stacked threw out the stone, studio apartment.
"So... when did you find time to build this?" Surbenét questioned, walking to
the center of the floor. "It looks like an underground military laboratory!"
"Shit, 5 million and a private contractor, life is good... None of this shits on the blueprints... You'll be surprised what we did. That staircase that led you here... invisible!"
"The guys with the masks?" Surbenét cut in.
"Those unfriendly gentlemen are my top men... Blackwater- type guerrilla motherfuckers. Everything runs smooth around here." Devin continued, walking into the kitchen, preparing six glasses of champagne. "Welcome ladies... Welcome to the land of the free, home of the rich and famous... Everyone come closer... Grab a glass."
"Who is that for?" Agnes asked of the sixth glass.
A voice came from out of the back room that was very familiar to Surbenét, and called out, "That would be mine!"
Everyone turned to look. It was Dorchester. Laughing wholeheartedly and walking to his longtime friend. "Finally made it, huh, Mr. President?" he continued, picking up his glass and holding it high, proposing a toast. "To the return of a friend. And to the success and future of X-caliber..." He paused and looked at the three beautiful women that Surbenét brought from overseas. "...And to those to whom god created to lure men into the wide road of destruction by beauty."
"We do have brains!" jumped Magenta, standing up for the girls.
Dorchester looked at the woman confused, before answering, "... And I am sure you do, lady. I am sure of that."
After the toast and small talk, the women were asked to go into the living room while the men conversed in the kitchen.
"We needed this apartment/office and space down here..." started Devin. "Surveillance is superb and I control everything from down here remotely."
"How long do you both stay down here?" Surbenét questioned.
"The longest I've been down here was... a little over a week. I'd say about 10 days." answered Devin.
"I never stayed that long... I normally come in and out... No particular pattern." added Dorchester.
"... And the soldiers?"
"All hand-picked by the both of us. All took the pledge... They never leave, just rotate shifts." confessed Dorchester. "We've educated our pupils, studied them, and practiced swimming, computer hacking, gymnastics, all forms of martial arts, military-style special ops training, and gunmanship... Hell, a couple of 'em are marksmen. We have locations set up in Maryland, down North and South Carolina, the U.K., and now Atlanta, Miami, and... Sierra Nevada, California."
"We've been doing this for more than six years..." cut in Devin. ”Grossing billions. If this all belonged to one man he'd be a billionaire easy... We need to let this go while we still have it all... There's about a bill here now... There's no way to wash it all...I want to quit all this and relocate to China on an adventure in the mountain region or something. Search for lost treasures. Cities 'n' shit. Everyone here has been enjoying the life. There's barely any violence and half of the 200 soldiers are over-trained... Who's fucking with us?" He was serious about every word.
Surbenét sat down and contemplated his answer. "Do you feel the same way?" he asked Dorchester.
Dorchester answered, "I don't see any reason why we should stop anything but the street activities. Everything else should continue as was. We break it off with Trip, anything’s liable to happen."
"You think he'll want to war?" asked Devin.
Surbenét answered, taking a sip of champagne, "No... Maybe something else... War would be an even more loss to him. Let's weigh our options first, and then... we vote..." he paused, looking around the room. "Something is missing... Where is Bryce?"
"Damn!" Devin started, looking up at the ceiling. "Where do we start...? He didn't come through."
Surbenét was lost for words, shifting his head to each of them, waiting on someone to speak up.
After a few seconds Devin continued, "One day about a year ago he was acting really nervous about something... You know, it could have been anything or anyone. He made the trades with Kitten and Diamond..."
"Trip's girls?" asked Surbenét.
"Yea... I hooked him up with a girl from my martial arts class...He was spending a lot of money. And I don't mean for his computer genius shit or nothing like that..."
"Well do tell, why not." Dorchester interrupted.
"All sorts of plane tickets... Trips he didn't even make... He spent a fortune on the wench... Fucking houses, cars, and diamonds... The girl disappeared right along with that smart-ass hacker. I don't even remember her name... A lot of shit has been going down around here that's unexplainable! All over the city... He did get into it with this nut-ball cop, too... right after a lot of the mayhem settled... Rams..." Devin stopped and then began talking about the recent run in with the detective and his salt and pepper duo of Hollywood and Vegas. "Out of all the government officials that we have on the payroll, tell me why we have this one occurring problem with just one man?"
"You tell me?" Surbenét threw the question back.
"Take this... How can people come up missing someplace where you’re being paid to protect? He had to of got rid of Bryce and his girl... That pig is the worst as they come. He had to of done it."
"Well how come you never thought of it sooner?"
"I always thought of it, bro. I just never acted on it, really... I think it could have been Kitten and Diamond, too."
"Well I'm sure you have talked to them?"
"They came at us first... Bryce never made it to the pick-up... We had to reformulate a procedure to handle that..."
"With whose permission?"
"Well..." Dorchester cut in, "With mine. I am... or was the acting President, assigned by you. We had to do something... I didn't want to inform you of anything I know would of pissed you off... We've had people looking for Bryce ever since he vanished... hired Private Investigators... and you know me, Mr. Bondsman, I still got outsiders keeping me posted on any leads to his whereabouts. This thing is big, coach. We know he didn't run off because all of his things are at his place... He didn't take any large amounts of money... His bank accounts haven't even been touched."
"People come up missing all the time, but that's if we're killing them..." Surbenét started. "These are our people we're talking about. A good friend of Devin's. A good friend of mine..." he refilled his glass, "Well... You want out... You will get that, soon. First, it's time for marketing... It's time that we send out a message to all those who choose to deny our existence. Devin, give me the information I need. Dorchester, I need you to get our co-partners settled in. They have instructions on what I need of them..." he turned to Devin, "I need you to pick-up and drop-off a present that I have coming here for Rebekah, from Trip, next week. Drop it off at Governors at around 10 o'clock the day it arrives. I have so much to do, and..."
"And..." began Dorchester, "You’re leaving me with three beautiful ladies... Work on, baby. Work on."
"First day and your already back on the job!" added Devin.
Turning to the ladies, who were watching the 60 inch plasma screen TV. that was surrounded by surveillance monitors, Surbenét said, "Ladies, Dorchester and Devin will accommodate you all if you should need anything... but in just a short moment, you will all become one with the club."
Agnes cut in, "...But I thought we all took the pledge years ago, overseas?"
He paused and tried to jog his memory, but the thoughts never surfaced. He was truly baffled by Agnes' statement as he didn't recall them ever taking the pledge. Though he never showed it, "I meant... Going to a ceremony. After a while you all will go and witness a ceremony of commitance. Where a few people will be pledging." Then, giving a smile, he expressed his farewells to the ladies with hugs and kisses, leaving the underground fortress.
After his departure, Devin and Dorchester attempted to entertain their new associates with champagne and music, but failed victoriously when the three beauties questioned them about rooms and showers. The two of them turned to look at each other, and then back in the direction of the women in a, mocking, professional
manner.
"Where is your luggage, ma'am?" questioned Dorchester, looking around the cash-infested area, arms waving.
"The chauffeur left them at the main door." Yakima answered, not impressed "... Oh, and boys?" she continued, flirting with them by a wink of the eye and a shift of her hips, "We're not here to find the love of our lives... We're here to party, make Millions... and fuck!"
Agnes and Magenta snickered under their breath as Devin became a gentleman and opened the door, watching their asses on the way out to the golf carts. As they loaded onto both golf carts, Devin yelled out 'party time' and both him and Dorchester pressed the accelerators, childishly racing to the stone stairway.
"No elevator?" asked Agnes.
"Nope! One way in... One way out... Security measures." answered Devin.
CHAPTER 3
It was the middle of a beautiful summer day when Surbenét parked his white, fully loaded BMW 328CI in front of Rebekah's modern, three story luxury condo and stepped out donned in an all-white Tailor made suit, holding six red roses in a vase with a card, and a small black bag. As he headed toward the door, it flew open and Rebekah dashed out with tears of joy, screaming, "MY BABY!”
Being held tightly within his embrace, they exchanged a long-awaited orgasmic osculation of passion, followed by a longing, heartfelt eye-to-eye, and another comforting hug.
"Red roses! My favorite." she announced, coming out of her intimate gaze.
"Yes... You have six. One for each year we were apart."
"And a card! What's in the bag, handsome?"
"Let's move inside, 'Bekah." he suggested, with a smile as sly as a fox.
She bit her bottom lip lightly and grabbed the flowers out of his hand, taking his invitation and slowly leading him into the house. "You miss me?" she asked.
"Every day."
"How much?" she asked, closing the door, beginning to striptease him. "...Show me how much you miss me."
He moved in slowly and began to gently caress her face, never losing eye contact, before pecking at her lips.
THE WICK OF WAR: Absolution Page 1
