Birth of a Monster (22 page)

Acting on an impulse, before he set off
for Sodorf, he went back into the house, took out the nicest piece
of stationery he had and began to write a letter:

Dear Mr. Simmers,

I know who you are. This letter is not
a threat, but a plea.

I was dragged into this sordid
business against my will, and I reckon that, if you have not
already done so, you will soon discover that I was at one time the
supplier to Sam and thus to the whole city.

Unwittingly, you did me a favor by
killing him and then stealing the market from his inheritors.
Nonetheless, if I were you, I might not be able to avoid the
conclusion that I would sleep a little better at night if the other
were dead. Perhaps I’m the only one who knows both of your
identities.

I’m fleeing Sivingdel and leaving that
rotten apple to you. I don’t doubt you’ll be looking for me soon,
if you’re not already, but this letter is to inform you that’s not
necessary.

I never wanted in, and now, more than
anything, I want out.

If I wanted your identity known, I
would have leaked it to the papers months ago. Ask yourself if that
is not true.

I ask to be left alone.

You will find plenty of cash buried
outside my house and inside a walled-off room. It’s on the far
southeast side of the house. If it is not too bold of me, I offer
this money to you as a proof of my sincerity and humbly ask that
you see to it that my employees are taken care of.

I could not tell them I was leaving
the country.

We only met twice, but you seemed like
the type who can read a man. I hope so because if you do you’ll
realize there’s no need to lose a second’s sleep on my
account.

May you be prosperous and kept
safe.

Sincerely,

You Know Who I Am

He looked over the letter once and
figured it would have to do for a letter to a violent kingpin that
he was writing as he prepared to go permanently underground. He
closed the letter with a seal, slapped the reins against the
horses’ hindquarters, and set off towards Ringsetter, glad it would
be on the way to Sodorf City.

He stopped outside of Rich’s Groceries
& Hardware, walked in and asked to speak to the manager, and
then gave the letter to a young man named Robert, who assured him
the letter would go straight to Mr. Simmers’ desk and that he would
personally inform Mr. Simmers of the letter the next time he saw
him.

Chapter 41

“Did you believe her?” Mr. Brass
asked.

“Frankly, sir, I did. It didn’t sound
rehearsed, and she sounded sincerely concerned. I don’t think she
has a clue where Mr. Hoffmeyer is. But you let me know what you
need done, and I’ll do it to the best of my ability.”

Righty scanned Tats’ face
carefully.

“I might check back in on Mr. Hoffmeyer
myself. As for now, I’ve got far bigger fish to fry. The reaction
of the local, state, and federal government is going to determine
whether we’re over the hump as far as the violence is concerned or
just listening to the report of the opening salvo in a bloodbath
the likes of which this country has never seen . . . at least not
for centuries.

“I will not die in prison or on the
scaffold, Tats,” Righty said, piercing through his soul with his
gaze.

“Tell me what you need
done.”

“I’ll be in touch sooner rather than
later,” Righty said with a slight smile. “As for now, it’s best you
lay low and enjoy some good times in that fancy hotel, which I
assume you’re not staying in without company, but I don’t mean to
pry.”

“You’ve deduced correctly,
sir.”

“Well, a man just doesn’t know when one
of those sweet moments will be his last, so let’s get you back
there.”

“Are you sure?” Tats asked, suddenly
feeling far more invigorated to help Mr. Brass out with whatever he
needed.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

They flagged down a coach, went to the
park, got on Harold, and were in a wooded area on the outskirts of
Sodorf City in less than an hour.

“I’m in Room 541, if you need to look
me up,” Tats said, as he dismounted from Harold. “Are you sure you
don’t need anything?”

Righty looked at him long and hard. “I
got some interesting paperwork at the chief’s house the night I
paid him an uninvited visit. It contained a list of informants.
That’s how you got set up. And that’s why we’re in this mess now.
There’s going to be a purge.”

“You can drop me back off at Sivingdel
right now. I’ll get the most trusted associates I have, and we’ll
kill them off one by one.”

“Not yet. They’ve done most of the
damage they’re capable of doing. Now’s when they’re most likely to
be suspecting retaliation. And now is when we’ve got to keep an
absolutely low profile. For all I know, troops could be in the
streets before the week is out. The last thing I want to do is
expose myself or my right-hand man to what’s left of the law just
to hunt down some mangy sewer rats.

“They’ll get theirs soon enough. For
now though, I want you to know Crabs’ name is on there, and so is
the name of every person you got arrested with. They were just
arrested and kept in jail as part of appearances. They were working
with Chief Benson. There’s a major problem in this organization
when people are more afraid of the police than me. That’s going to
change soon enough.”

“You tell me when, where, and what, and
it will be done,” Tats said, furious at himself for failing to
detect Crabs’ treachery and that of the others. Though Mr. Brass
hadn’t said it, the responsibility for this fiasco was in a way
Tats’ due to his having failed to detect the treachery. He was
going to make up for it as soon as Mr. Brass gave him the
chance.

“We’ll talk soon,” Righty said, giving
him a firm handshake.

Righty flew straight to the woods
behind his house in Ringsetter and met up with the konulans. He
felt it was a good harbinger that several of the konulans reported
having found a ranch with a white picket fence within two hours by
horse from Ringsetter, and furthermore, they had even overheard
some dissatisfaction from the owner about the decline in the
quality of the soil, which meant he might be open for a
sale.

Righty jotted down the name of the
rancher and some specifics about its location.

He felt relief that he was making good
progress towards getting that transaction done, as it might behoove
him to move him and his family from Ringsetter within days, if
possible.

For now, however, it was time to put
the konulans to use like they never had been before.

“Friends,” he began, with konulans
hovering around him—some on his lap, some before his feet, some on
surrounding tree branches—looking like soldiers awaiting the orders
of their general, “the safety of my wife and baby is in your care.
Wicked, ambitious men have betrayed me and forced me to take
lamentable actions to protect my wife and child. But like a spider
rebuilding its web that has been damaged, but not destroyed, by a
powerful storm, my enemies are now coalescing all around me,
plotting, conniving, seeking to lay a snare that I will walk into
and leave my wife a widow and my daughter an orphan.

“Will you stand with me against my
enemies?”

“We will . . . we will!” they cried,
adding many exuberant chirps and whistles along with their
exclamations.

Righty withdrew his sword and drew a
large circle, within which he began laying out an exhaustive list
of persons and locales that were to be the subject of ceaseless
surveillance.

The konulans then took off.

Righty was left alone with Harold and
approached him.

“My ability to plan and act is going to
depend heavily on the faithful reporting of the konulans, Harold.
If they fail, I am doomed.”

Harold’s heart beat rapidly with
excitement. He had found Righty to be one non-stop adventure
compared to his dreary years of hunting for a commoner elevated to
knighthood status in Sodorf, but the last several days were simply
beyond anything he had ever imagined. He owed all this happiness,
this purpose, to one man, and there was nothing on earth that would
prevent him from keeping this man safe.

“Rest, Mr. Simmers. You will need all
your energy to plan and act appropriately as soon as the konulans
begin to bring back information on what the government is
planning.”

Righty put his hand on Harold’s neck
and patted it gently. “I will lay down my life for you, if
necessary, friend.”

Harold’s blush could not be seen due to
his feathers, but some trace of it could be seen in his slightly
moist eyes.

He took off after the konulans before
Righty could notice—or so he thought. Harold was going to be
involved in a lot of micromanagement over the ensuing days. And
while he had no qualms about Mr. Simmers playing the role of the
friend, he would not hesitate to flay any konulan in whom he
detected the slightest trace of treachery or apathy in their
mission.

Righty headed to the house, surprised
when he looked down at his watch to see it was merely 3 p.m. While
he briefly considered the possibility of seeking some work-related
task until evening, he quickly decided he should follow the advice
he gave to Tats and enjoy what could be one of his last days as a
free man.

He headed towards the house, anxious to
tell Janie the good news about the ranch. He would spend a heavenly
afternoon and evening of sweet, innocent relaxation with his
family.

Tomorrow, if he had no major updates
from the konulans, he would take a trip to the ranch and pay
whatever it took to make it his within days. He needed to get Janie
and the baby out of here fast.

Chapter 42

When the last of Governor Sehensberg’s
sniveling advisors had left his mansion, located a solid hour
outside of the city of Sivingdel, yet still within the boundaries
of the state of Rodalia, he privately bade them good
riddance.

It had been several days since the
police station was burned and exploded to smithereens in broad
daylight, eliminating about half the total police force. More
specifically, it had taken out somewhere around ninety percent of
the police force’s hierarchy and administrative personnel and
around a third of the street cops; the police chief was decapitated
in his own home, which was then burned down for good measure; two
federal drug agents had been horrifically mauled; the mayor, a
senator, a private detective, and two councilmen had been murdered;
and a police officer had been hacked in two in the woods of the
city’s park.

It had taken at least a couple days
just for the full body count to come in, and even the most ardent
critics couldn’t fault him for not having a full-blown response
plan just yet. He had declared a state of emergency and taken
several steps that would have been wholly unconstitutional in
peaceful times.

He had converted an
abandoned warehouse into a makeshift jail until the city approved
funds for construction of a new facility and had ordered the
remaining police to sweep the streets, arresting anyone who even
looked suspicious and take them into custody either until the
emergency ended or they determined the detainees were innocent,
whereas those who could be charged with a crime—
any
crime, no matter how low a
misdemeanor—were to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the
law.

Additionally, he had requested the city
council to immediately approve funds to recruit new police officers
to replace all the fallen, plus a few hundred more for good
measure. And he had made sure to appear once a day in the city
square to loudly proclaim these fervent measures being taken to
assure that the guilty would be punished.

He had kept his speeches brief,
however, as it seemed the vast majority of the population had
become convinced—thanks to The Sivingdel Times—that the real
culprit was dead: the city’s now infamous mayor.

Thus, he had whisked himself off stage,
surrounded by a platoon of bodyguards, each time the questions
started:

“Did you know the mayor was this
evil?!”

“Did you know the mayor was in bed with
organized crime?!”

And on and on.