“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because you can only gain that power by taking it from your Emperor. As you get stronger, he gets weaker.”
Evan asked, “Revenge?”
“I want Trevor Stone to know, you reap what you sow.”
From the Old Treasury building on State Circle in the center of town built circa 1735, to the majestic house of Charles Carroll overlooking Spa Creek, to the 238 acres of the U.S. Naval Academy, history lived in every corner of Annapolis.
The “Southern Command” of what was now accepted as “The Empire” called Annapolis home, as did Nina Forest.
She pushed open the door to her small apartment but, before she could enter, in rushed Denise Cannon.
Jerry Shepherd-on well-deserved but short-lived leave-hovered at the door frame as Nina shook her head in wonder; wonder if she was up to this task.
“So this is it? Okay, okay, this will work,” Denise said lightheartedly.
The eleven-year-old inspected the small living room, darted into the even smaller kitchen, wove through the dining area, then down the short hall to examine the two bedrooms and bath.
Denise and Shep dropped heavy bags on the carpeted floor.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Nina said.
“You’re doing it,” Shep laughed.
A chubby man dressed in casual clothes knocked on the open door with the one hand he still possessed; only a stub remained of his right arm.
“Denise! Come here, Denise!” Nina yelled.
The man at the door shook Shep’s hand, left to left.
“Read in the paper that you kicked those lizard asses all the way back to Atlanta. Good work down there, General.”
“Thanks, Barn,” Shepherd answered and then asked, “How’s the itching?”
Barney touched the stub and replied, “Still a bitch at night but that cream you sent my way helped a bit. Thanks again.”
“Denise, this is Mr. Carson,” Nina introduced. “He’s the building’s caretaker. Everyone here knows him. He sort of looks after things when we’re off on missions and stuff. When I’m away, you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”
“Hello there, little lady,” Barney greeted.
Denise, in a well-rehearsed line, answered in an overly respectful tone, “Hello, Mr. Carson. It is nice to meet you.”
“Call me Barn. Everyone else does.”
Denise’s eyes gravitated to the stub.
Barney said, “Be careful what you wish for.”
“Huh?” Denise asked while Nina and Shep rolled their eyes in anticipation of the joke Barney told every day.
“I said, be careful what you wish for,” Barney told the girl. “One day I said I’d give my right arm to get out of the army.”
Denise’s eyes grew bigger and her mouth opened in the slightest.
Nina assured, “He’s kidding.”
Barney laughed. Denise forced a very fake smile.
“Go ahead,” Nina relented. “Give it the once over.”
Denise returned to her investigation, moving with the quick bursts of speed, changes in attention, and hyper-activity only afforded to kids.
“She’s a pistol. Can tell that right ‘way,” Barney said.
“Pistols can misfire,” Nina responded.
“That’s right,” Barney turned to leave. “That’s why you got to make sure you always know which way the barrel is pointing.”
Denise called from down the hall, “What? No bed? Where am I going to sleep? Wait a second, there’s no stereo in here.” Then she poked her head in the bathroom. “Oh boy, we have got to talk.”
Nina and Shep shared a look as the little girl walked over to the entertainment center in the living room and rummaged through the DVDs there. “Ugh…nope…nope…oh, wait, cool-Brad Pitt. He is sooo hot.”
“What did I get myself into?” Nina asked Shep.
He told her, “Oh, now that’s a good question.”
“But you know it’s like…I dunno…all I’m saying is that it feels kind of good. Look, this sounds silly, but well, I never had any kids of course, but when I’m with her…I feel like…I feel like I’m a-”
Shep put a hand on her shoulder. “I know how you feel. You don’t have to explain.”
Nina looked into Shepherd’s eyes. His fatherly eyes.
“I guess not,” she said and placed a hand over his. “I guess not.”
Denise moved into the kitchen. “What is this? A refrigerator? Does it work?”
Nina called, “It will when I plug it back in! Have to save power when we’re not home, you know.”
“Power? Cool. Like, we can watch movies and eat popcorn and-”
“Hey! Hey,” Nina said. “Look, don’t you go getting ideas that this is some sort of big slumber party. You are going to school, kiddo, and you’ll have homework and you’re going to learn to shoot and-”
“Relax,” Denise rounded the corner and smiled at Nina. “I know. Geez, don’t get all hyper… mom. ”
Denise disappeared down the hallway again.
“Is this your closet? Oh boy, did I get here just in time or what. Don’t worry; I’m all over it…”
Nina shook her head, smiling.
Dante Jones pointed at the shot glass. The bartender filled it with something again, maybe old Jack Daniels, maybe Jagermeister, maybe one of the new concoctions making the rounds.
It did not matter. Whatever it was, he would drink it and he did not have a tab to worry about. It paid to be Chief of Internal Security. You often found you had more friends than you realized.
The door to the center-city Wilkes-Barre bar creaked open. A few beams of late afternoon sunshine shot in, turning the man who opened the door into a silhouette.
Dante did not notice the man who sat down next to him until he spoke.
“Early night cap, Dante?”
Jones looked, saw who it was, and sneered in disgust.
“What do you want, Evan?”
“Wow, that’s not a very nice way to greet a friend.”
“A friend?” The choice of words surprised Dante.
“Yeah. I thought we had, well, after the time we spent in North Carolina I thought we had bonded or something.”
Jones told Godfrey, “Since then a lot of my people have been forced to whack yours with night sticks and tear gas. Don’t think I don’t know about this candle light vigil thing this weekend. You damn well better not pull any shit outside the estate.”
“Hey, easy,” Evan said. “You know, I’m not behind every protest. I can’t be. There’s been too many of them. And you know what? There are more coming. Believe it or not, old Evan Godfrey isn’t the bad guy all the time.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“I’ll give you my personal word Dante. My personal word that the vigil will be non-violent. I know the kind of position that would put you in. You’ve been in enough tough positions the last few years. I promise.”
Dante cocked his head. “Tough positions? What are you talking about?”
“Well, like Dubois for instance when a bunch of Red Hands took that town out and I.S. got a bloody nose. Like trying to protect all the caravans and trains and shipyards when you don’t have enough manpower. You know a lot of people blame Internal Security. They say you’re not doing your job.”
“Well screw them!” Dante said a little loud. “Do they know what we have to work with? Do they know how tough this job is? Resources are-”
“Resources are thin, yeah,” Evan agreed.
“Right.”
“You’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got.”
“Hell yeah,” Dante nodded.
“You’ve got good people working for you. They’re trying their best.”
“Damn straight.”
“Things have got to change.”
“Shit, you can say that again-” Dante caught himself in mid sentence. He turned toward Evan with anger…breathed…then relaxed. “You know, Evan, you lived around here, right?”
“What? You mean Wilkes-Barre? Northeast PA? Yeah, I moved here before graduate school.”
“Back before ‘all this’, this bar wasn’t where we’d see a bunch of guys like you.”