Kyle radioed The Collective to inform them he had found Number Two and Driver Ten safe and that there was something sensitive that needs to be addressed upon their return. The dispatch asked what it was but Kyle kept it to himself only informing the dispatch to tell Number One that his son was found.
Back inside, Kyle waited for Number Two while he sat down to discuss the entire situation with
Driver Ten. The sounds of the bar and the brothel reverberated through the thin walls adding a contextual layer that felt dirty. Kyle had much to say to Driver Ten but all he could do at first was shake his head at the abhorrent behavior of a Collective driver.
The silence between the two was loud with Driver Ten unable to even look at Kyle, his head lowered in shame.
“We have a code?” Kyle reminded him.
Driver Ten lifted his head and locked his gaze with Kyle’s. “But in my defense, we’re not in The Collective, the code doesn’t count here.”
“Just shut up,” Kyle snapped knowing Driver Ten was partaking in sexual acts with children as Candace came right out and said so. It required all of Kyle’s discipline to not shoot him right there
In The Collective, child enslavement and prostitution was outlawed, even in the unincorporated areas around The Collective, The Number One frowned on it and had his drivers pass sentence whenever they encountered it.
“Listen, it wasn’t my idea,” Ten pleaded.
Kyle leaned on the table and said, “I can understand that Two ordered you to come here, but he didn’t make you do what you did once you got here. That’s on you.”
“But it was only one,” Two said. His sad defense falling on deaf ears.
“I’ll deal with you later. What I need from you now is to go get Two. Time to take him back home.”
“Sure, but, um, I’m not sure if he’ll come,” Two said.
Kyle looked at Candace who was standing across the room but in earshot.
She returned the look and said, “You want me to go get him?”
“Do you mind?” Kyle asked.
Candace exited the room.
“Please understand,” Ten pleaded.
Kyle rose his hand gesturing for Ten to be quiet.
“C’mon, what happens out of The Collective, stays out of the…”
“Do you not understand the meaning of shut up?” Kyle barked.
The door opened and in came Number Two, a shit eating grin stretched across his chubby face exposing his yellowish teeth. He had more wealth than ninety-nine percent and access to dental products but still his laziness showed through his lack of dental hygiene. He laughed like a giddy child as Candace lured him there saying there was a special treat inside for him. “You guys know how to treat your guests.” He looked around but only saw Kyle and Ten sitting at a small table in the far corner. “What’s this?” he asked Candace surprised.
She didn’t reply, instead she stepped inside the room and closed the door.
“I asked you, what’s this?” Number Two seethed at her.
“Number Two, I’m Driver Eight, I was sent here to get you. Now go get your things, we leave in ten minutes,” Kyle ordered.
“I know who you are but I don’t take orders from you, or anyone,” Two snarled.
Kyle stood and walked over to Two, stopping inches from him.
Even without touching him, Number Two could physically feel Kyle’s presence, but he wasn’t going to allow a driver to intimidate him. “Back off.”
“Barry, listen, you don’t want to mess with Driver Eight,” Ten warned.
“I don’t care who the fuck he is, I’m second in line to rule over The Collective,” Two said.
“How many times do I have to ask?” Kyle asked.
Two tried to stand tall, but his short five-foot five stature seemed small next to Kyle towering at six-foot three. He sucked in his belly, broadened his shoulders and snapped, “Back…the…fuck…off!”
“Listen, Barry, I’m under orders from your father to come find you and bring you back. Now, he didn’t give me specifics so I suppose I could hog tie you, stuff you in the back of my truck and haul you back or you can go get your shit, and come with me. Your choice, one is hog tie, two…”
“Go with two,” Ten shouted.
Barry tried to hold his stare against Kyle but couldn’t, he looked away towards Ten and said, “Fuck this.” He turned around swiftly, his portly belly juggling and headed for the door.
“Can I assume that means you’re going to get your shit?” Kyle asked. He normally would have treated someone like Barry with respect but couldn’t find the discipline to do so after knowing the kind of man he was. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to explain all this to your father.”
Barry turned back and barked, “I spoke to my father yesterday, he knows I’m here. So fuck off.” He threw open the door and marched off.
Candace winked at Kyle. “I’ll go help him,” she said and sauntered off.
Kyle turned around and said, “Go get your stuff. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Ten said jumping to his feet.
As Ten passed him, Kyle said, “I want you to know that when we get back. I’ll be holding you accountable for this behavior.”
Ten nodded and rushed out.
Kyle couldn’t be more disgusted than he was now. How long had Barry been doing this? Was this the reason he’d run off before? Did Number One know and was harboring a pedophile and grooming him to take over? So many questions but right now his first priority was getting Barry back home safely then find out the answers to these questions.
Portia was amazed by the grandeur of the executive mansion. Its tall ceilings, coffered with crown molding were impressive and beautiful. The travertine flooring with lush thick rugs gave the place a feeling of elegance. This ‘home’ wasn’t like anything in The Collective but who could complain? This was the home of the Number One, the founder and leader.
A guard escorted her up a long and gently winding staircase then down a long hallway to a double set of tall doors. The guard knocked.
“Come in,” Number One called out.
The guard turned the nob and pushed the thick alder door open. “Go ahead in.”
Portia stepped into the massive room. The guard promptly closed the door leaving her standing there. She quickly looked around and discovered the room was a bedroom. A strong uneasy feeling came over her. Not wishing to put into an awkward position she spun around and grabbed the door knob.
“No, please, don’t go,” Number One said walking into the room.
Portia stopped trying to turn the knob and like a church mouse, slowly turned to face him.
Number One was wearing the same green turtleneck sweater and blue jeans. “Please, come, sit down,” he said pointing to a large ever suede couch.
“I, um, I don’t think this is appropriate,” she said standing her ground.
“Why, because you’re in the front room of my master suite. I’m only asking you to take a seat here, I didn’t say go lay on my bed in the other room.”
“But still, this is highly unusual,” she said, her arms folded tightly in front of her.
“My dear, Portia, do you mind if I call you that?”
Unsure how to answer, she answered safely, “Call me Teacher Seven.”
“Nonsense, your birth name is fine. There’s no law against it, we just prefer that people call themselves by their Collective occupation, but we understand people will want to use their birth names in private and around friends.”
“What do you want?”
“Just a chat, a private chat over lunch, so please come, sit down, let me pour you a drink. What do you like?”
“I don’t need a drink. I’m sorry, but have I done something wrong?”