His heels click as he stops and turns to look at me. He half glances at the guard. “You can leave us. I’ll be fine.”
His voice is like a whisper, yet I can hear every word with frightening clarity.
The guard shuts the door and steps a respectful distance away. The guy is standing silently, staring impassively at me.
I look him up and down. “So, Colonel Sanders, what can I do for you? Bit snazzy for a state-appointed lawyer, aren’t you?”
He must know who I am, yet he’s standing here almost like I should be afraid of him. The man’s face shows no emotion whatsoever. His green eyes are dead, and the coarse, loose skin around his cheeks is the only thing giving any indication of his age.
Silence.
“Adrian… It’s an honor to meet you.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“I have waited… many years for the moment to arrive when I could stand before you.”
Say what now?
I fight the urge to respond, despite being very confused.
“We’ve been watching you… monitoring how you progress — how you… evolve.”
Okay, I’ll bite.
“Who are you? And what do you mean you’ve been watching me?”
“Killing the president of the United States… that’s an impressive feat.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Well, I’m not one to blow my own trumpet or anything, but… y’know… toot.”
I smile, but he says nothing. His eyebrow rises with an almost imperceptible twitch, but that’s all he gives me.
“Adrian, are you aware of what will happen to you now?”
I stare at the ceiling and exhale slowly like I’m giving it some real thought. “Oh, I dunno… a cold beer and floor seats to a Lakers game?”
The man sighs, which I take as a sign he’s growing impatient. “Not quite. In approximately eighteen hours, you will be sentenced to death via lethal injection.”
“Huh… Well, that’s gonna suck. Hang on — how do you know?”
“I know lots of things, Adrian. I represent an organization who hires people with certain… skill sets. My employers then invest considerable amounts of money to help those individuals perfect those skill sets. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Order of Sabbah?”
My eyes widen involuntarily. I’m trying to hide that I’ve been caught off guard and am shocked, but I can’t.
The Order…?
Let me tell you, they’re like an urban legend among assassins. An organization that, allegedly, stretches back thousands of years and is made up of the greatest killers the world has ever seen. It’s a load of bullshit, if you ask me, but every now and then you hear a rumor about someone disappearing, or someone turning up to a job to find it’s mysteriously been taken care of. No one reads too much into it, as those examples can usually be explained. But in the same way devout Catholics use God as the answer to almost any science question that doesn’t have a logical explanation, many of my fellow assassins like to use the Order of Sabbah as the explanation for anything out of the ordinary.
“Is this a joke?” I ask, finally. “You turn up and tell me I have less than a day to live and then expect me to believe you work for some silly ghost story?”
The man smiles humorlessly, like he’s seen the same reaction a thousand times before. “I assure you, Adrian, the Order is no ghost story. We are very real, and we believe you are ready to join the elite of your profession.”
I shake my head. “I hate to burst your bubble, but I already am the elite of my profession. I’m—”
“You’re good, there’s no denying that. But you could be so much more… with the right guidance. I am here to present you with the opportunity to join our ranks. To become that ghost story, as you put it.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? You just told me I’m gonna die tomorrow…”
“If you remain here… yes, you will.”
“Ah, I see. But if I just walk out the front door holding your hand, you’ll take me some place far, far away, right?”
“I can save you, if that’s what you’re implying.”
This guy’s a basket case. But for no other reason besides having literally nothing better to do on what has turned out to be the last day of my life, I’ll humor him.
I shrug. “Okay, lay it on me then… What’s the catch?”
The guy looks at me thoughtfully, and I see him slightly curl the corner of his mouth the way people do when they’re trying to hold back a smug smile because they’ve just proved someone wrong or won a bet.
“The catch, if you wish to call it that, is we’ll kill you.”
“Hmmm… I’m failing to see the benefits, I’ll be honest.”
He shakes his head. “You will be pronounced dead as a result of your not-so-public execution. You will officially cease to be, leaving you free to do whatever you want. Or, more specifically, whatever we want. No one can track you because all they would ever find are records of your death.”
“And how exactly do I trust you to do this?”
“You don’t. And, Adrian, if you honestly thought you could, then I’m afraid we’ve made a mistake, and I’ll leave you to the last day of your—”
I hold my hands up. “Alright, alright. So, what, you fake my death and then I’m part of the team?”
The man nods. “It’s along those lines, yes. But I need your decision right now. And you need to realize you will be dead, Adrian. Officially. Which means you will no longer be able to contact anyone in your life. The world must believe you no longer exist.”
I let out a heavy sigh and move over to the pull-down bed, which I lower and sit on.
This is crazy!
I’ll be dead… Josh will think I’m dead. Can I really put him through that just to save my own ass?
The man checks his watch. “Tick tock, Adrian.”
I look up at him. “Hey, don’t rush me! This is a lot to think about, alright?”
“Big choices are never easy to make.”
I shake my head and resume staring at the floor.
Fake my own death and join the Order of Sabbah? That’s insane. And I’m still not even sure I believe this guy. I can only compare it to someone turning up at your front door and telling you they’re an angel. To have something that has been forever shrouded in mystery and myth suddenly proven to you is… well, it’s a lot to get your head around.
The Order.
Fuck…
I sigh and look across at the man in white, who’s staring at me, watching me struggle to make the decision.
I’d never see or speak to Josh again. I’m sure he’s working his ass off to get me out of here. But what if he can’t? I’m not afraid to die, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to.
The Order is an assassin’s fairy tale, right? I mean, no one actually believes an organization comprised of the best killers in history really exists… What did those stories say? That they shape humanity’s future by removing people they think will have a negative impact on the world, or something like that.
Sounds like bullshit.
But then, what have I got to lose? I say no, I’m dead. I say yes and I’m wrong, I’m dead. I say yes and this guy’s on the level, then I stay alive, but the world will think I’m dead.
And how the hell is he going to do that, anyway? I know you can get pills and things to make you ill… is that his plan? Make me sick, get me to a hospital, and then — I don’t know — switch my body with a fresh corpse, maybe? Fake a car crash on the way there? What? I have no idea…