Into the Battle

“All, all is theft, all is unceasing and rigorous competition in nature; the desire to make off with the substance of others is the foremost / the most legitimate / passion nature has bred into us, and without doubt, the most agreeable one.”

-The Marquis De Sade

With the buzz in the media we were gifted with anonymity. We would likely have had no time to follow up any possible leads if any new organization had had any inkling that we were in any way involved with the bombing or its cause.

We were all a bit thunderstruck by the development. When you have made a human contact that is then snipped by the waters of the river Styx, it makes all other things take a rest for perspective.

Under one of my aliases, this one Tiller Fields (a farmer from Nevada, Mo.), I got a safety deposit box. Only Hugo, Rayleen and I knew of this identity, and therefore the existence of the box would be an ultimate secret. Then we put the key in another bank’s safety deposit box under Hugo’s mother’s maiden name. The key to that box we put in the middle of a pound of hamburger and put it in Rayleen’s freezer.

All this information I put in a note that I put under seal to my new friend Ryan MacGinnes at the Star. I trusted him to leave it unopened until I turned up dead.

We didn’t need the wood to follow up on the case, but I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be on hand to bring a second thought to every decision we had to make.

We gathered that afternoon to make some plans of attack for the coming days.

That was when we remembered that someone knew about us after all.

It came in the form of a ringing phone in our office.

“I’ve got a call from a Mr. Malvito for you,” Rayleen informed me.

“Mr. Savage,” the velvety voice gushed over the line to me, “I have tried to get hold of you for the entire morning. I want you to help me track down an item I am sure you have some idea about.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malvito,” suspicion was in my tone, “I first have to know how you know me. Were you referred by some prior client of mine?”

“Certainly, certainly,” he was taken aback by the question, but not thrown off by it. “I was reading newspaper reports on that horrible MacPherson affair and found you to sound like a solid and resourceful individual. I asked a few questions of some friends of mine in law enforcement, and they buttressed that opinion.”

“And you are in Japan?” I asked. I was pretty sure that few if any people in Japan knew who I was, and I was also amazed that any newspaper had picked up the few cloudy newspaper stories about the debacle that had come from the crime spree of Leo MacPherson.

“Why, no,” he corrected. “I am on my way to Kansas City by air. I have just left London, where I had some business.”

“That’s the long way to get here, isn’t it?” I wondered. “From Japan, a Pacific flight might be more direct, am I correct?”

“Normally, yes,” he said. “But I had some business in Europe first. Then I just continued on to see you. Wasn’t it awful about Scotland Yard?”

Without thinking my hand made sure there was a pistol in my shoulder holster.

“How long until you touch down in Kansas City?”

“I have some arrangements to make in New York that will take the morning tomorrow. But the flight should arrive there about 8:09 that night. Can you have someone there to pick me up?”

“Certainly,” was what I said; what I thought was “So we will always know where you are.”

“Then, until tomorrow night then. ” He sounded like he had just nailed my coffin shut.

“Till then, then.” I put the phone down and turned to my partners.

“We have to find out who this guy is,” I told them. “He just left London and might have had something to do with that mess.”

Hugo began to contact his more “colorful” former colleagues.

Rayleen called our friends at the local constabulary while I was talking to some of the newspaper people I had used before.

My buddy Jason Jantes at the library promised to check “Who’s Who” and like publications until he turned up something.

Four hours later we were all without a single pitch to swing at much less hit.

The man was a ghost.

seymoure

The Ilium Obligation (A Matt Savage Adventure) Chapter 8

“All, all is theft, all is unceasing and rigorous competition in nature; the desire to make off with the substance of others is the foremost / the most legitimate / passion nature has bred into us, and without doubt, the most agreeable one.”

-The Marquis De Sade

With the buzz in the media we were gifted with anonymity. We would likely have had no time to follow up any possible leads if any new organization had had any inkling that we were in any way involved with the bombing or its cause.

We were all a bit thunderstruck by the development. When you have made a human contact that is then snipped by the waters of the river Styx, it makes all other things take a rest for perspective.

All this information I put in a note that I put under seal to my new friend Ryan MacGinnes at the Star. I trusted him to leave it unopened until I turned up dead.

We didn’t need the wood to follow up on the case, but I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be on hand to bring a second thought to every decision we had to make.

We gathered that afternoon to make some plans of attack for the coming days.

That was when we remembered that someone knew about us after all.

It came in the form of a ringing phone in our office.

“I’ve got a call from a Mr. Malvito for you,” Rayleen informed me.

“Mr. Savage,” the velvety voice gushed over the line to me, “I have tried to get hold of you for the entire morning. I want you to help me track down an item I am sure you have some idea about.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malvito,” suspicion was in my tone, “I first have to know how you know me. Were you referred by some prior client of mine?”

“And you are in Japan?” I asked. I was pretty sure that few if any people in Japan knew who I was, and I was also amazed that any newspaper had picked up the few cloudy newspaper stories about the debacle that had come from the crime spree of Leo MacPherson.

“Why, no,” he corrected. “I am on my way to Kansas City by air. I have just left London, where I had some business.”

“That’s the long way to get here, isn’t it?” I wondered. “From Japan, a Pacific flight might be more direct, am I correct?”

“Normally, yes,” he said. “But I had some business in Europe first. Then I just continued on to see you. Wasn’t it awful about Scotland Yard?”

Without thinking my hand made sure there was a pistol in my shoulder holster.

“How long until you touch down in Kansas City?”

“I have some arrangements to make in New York that will take the morning tomorrow. But the flight should arrive there about 8:09 that night. Can you have someone there to pick me up?”

“Certainly,” was what I said; what I thought was “So we will always know where you are.”

“Then, until tomorrow night then. ” He sounded like he had just nailed my coffin shut.

“Till then, then.” I put the phone down and turned to my partners.

“We have to find out who this guy is,” I told them. “He just left London and might have had something to do with that mess.”

Hugo began to contact his more “colorful” former colleagues.

Rayleen called our friends at the local constabulary while I was talking to some of the newspaper people I had used before.

My buddy Jason Jantes at the library promised to check “Who’s Who” and like publications until he turned up something.

Four hours later we were all without a single pitch to swing at much less hit.

The man was a ghost.

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