Of course they understood the cost because even though they had not mentioned his name, they all knew about Joplin and his connection to Raal. They knew because Morpheus had felt bound to tell them. The irony was that he valued his allegiance to this group of people more than his love for his family. He didn’t do this because of a flaw in his character. He did this because that’s the price he’d paid to be a member of this group; and that’s what his father had expressed to him on the day that he’d stepped down, offering Morpheus his seat. He’d been honored to have been chosen by his father, especially after the fiasco involving his sister. When Morpheus stood in his father’s place, he’d vowed to protect the group over anything else. That explained his reason for telling them about Joplin and Raal but this fact didn’t change his regrets and now, Raal and Joplin may never know the other. If Morpheus couldn’t fix this, someone would have to pay the price--and right now, Joplin was as good as dead. He pushed that thought aside because regardless of how he felt, nothing else mattered. Morpheus had to seal this leak, and if he didn’t, more than a few people would end up dying. He considered the names, and he didn’t give a rats ass about the Delors, the Pettier’s or any of the other nuts who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. He would cut them down himself if it came to it. When he considered Berta’s comment regarding Andrew, and her suggestion that perhaps they should reconsider being his silent backers; he’d never cared for her, and they rarely agreed on a single point; but as for dumping Andrew--on that point, he had to agree. At the time, he hadn’t shared his opinion because tradition was tradition, and the group held firm to certain beliefs. Andrew Wilcox had been chosen because he’d agreed to be a puppet president. He’d agreed to govern the country in whatever manner the group thought would be best. Most politician’s were corrupt by nature, but only a few were soulless. Andrew was a rare breed, and he’d sold his soul to the group; they owned him, and there in lied their devotion. At this late date in the game, dumping Andrew would amount to colossal failures, and two year’s worth of work, flushed down the crapper. It would mean that the governor would become one of those dangling strings that Woodrow had alluded to. One of those strings that would have to be cut, because it had frayed from the central purpose of the group. In other words; the second Andrew was no longer relevant to the furthering of their cause, there would be no need to keep him alive. To protect the secrecy of the group, Andrew Wilcox would be permanently silenced.
Morpheus summed up his mental list of names, and he didn’t blink when he added Andrew’s name at the bottom. He wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep if for some unforeseen reason, Andrew’s heart suddenly stopped; but Joplin--now that would keep him up at night. He studied the notion, rolling the answers in his head; not liking his choices. There had to be another way. There had to be one person so important that, killing them would silence all others. It might even send the nosy warts in a completely different direction; making Tollin’s questionable death old news. Morpheus couldn’t free himself from one unmistakable truth. Who had been the initiator. Who had fired the first shot. Who had made the first move, forcing wheels in motion that had once sat idle. He had the answer...and when all was said and done, he would live with his decision. He just hoped that the others would agree with the way he planned to work this out.
When Morpheus returned to his plane, he couldn’t recall leaving the conference area on the larger plane. He sat down, and he heard Olga when she said...
“May I offer you something?”
“Privacy.” was all that he said...
Olga knew not to reply because most times, these meetings were to blame for his sour moods. He was deep in thought, and he didn’t hear the roar of the planes as they took their turns, flying off in different directions. When his plane took flight, Morpheus had an idea in his mind. A notion that just might work; and the idea would serve the bastard right. He couldn’t believe that he’d not thought about this earlier.
“No matter...” he said to himself. “I’ve thought of it now.”
He fished out his mobile, and he scrolled to a secure site on the internet where he kept a number of encrypted files. He opened the one entitled, ‘Paddox’, then he ran it through a number of virus scans, before finally opening it. When he’d found what he’d been looking for, he followed a series of sequences, virus checks, and scans, before closing out the file. Then he covered his tracks by emptying his cache and deleting the search history on his phone. In his line of work, it paid to be over cautious and his paranoia wasn’t an illness. He dialed the number, then he sat back in his seat. After four rings, the person answered.
“Hello.” Hearing this voice was like listening to his brother Raal, answering on the other end. Morpheus erased this comparison because he couldn’t mess this up. Now was not the time for teary reminisce’s, recalling when he’d first learned about him.
Morpheus spoke in an official tone.
“You don’t know me...but I am well acquainted with you.”
“Oh really.” Joplin said...and he didn’t like the tone of this call. His spidy antennae had picked up a disturbing frequency in this callers voice.
Morpheus said...
“We have a mutual friend. Claudette. But--when I knew her, her last name wasn’t Paddox. She’d been known as Claudette Dune.”
Joplin thought about the last time that he’d seen his mother. He said...
“If you’re calling because you want to rekindle old friendships...you’re a little late my friend. That ship sailed a long, long time ago.”
“Yes...I know.” Morpheus was silent, giving him time to get the snarky out of his head. He waited, and finally, Joplin said...
“So...if you know that my mother is dead--I take it that, this call has something to do with me.”
“I am calling to talk to you but Claudette isn’t the acquaintance that I’d been referring to. I just told you her name to let you know that I know her and I know you as well.”
“Look man...I don’t have time for twenty questions. Either get to the point, or I’m ending this call.”
This man behaved like a Gustafson--but his sharp tones didn’t resemble Raal. In fact--if he didn’t know with certainty that Joplin was Raal’s son, Morpheus would say that Joplin’s piss and vinegar attitude was a page out of his book.
Morpheus didn’t want to make that connection, so he kicked that fluffy sentiment shit out of his head, then he got down to business...
“We need to meet. You tell me the time and the place.”
“Oh really...”
“Is that all you have to say? I would have expected more from a Gustafson.”
“What the fuck!” Joplin said the words like a Jersey native, even though Morpheus knew with certainty that Jersey had never been one of his homes.
Morpheus said...
“Look...this meeting is going to happen. And I’m just giving you the opportunity to name the time and the place.”
“And if I don’t...”
Morpheus had thought “Damn, this guy is a chip off the old block--and not in a good way”. He’d felt a tight pull on his jaw, and he willed the irritating tick back into submission, when he said...
“If that’s the way you want to play it. Just know this...I’ve had my eyes on you for some time now, and there isn’t anyplace you can go, that I don’t already know about. When I make an offer--I only make the offer once. In other words--the gesture is off the table. I’ll see you when I see you.”
When he pulled the phone away from his ear, he heard Joplin shouting, saying...
“Hey...what the.... Wait... Seventy-fifth and....” Click.
“Stupid fucker” he said, then he sighed. If his meeting with Joplin didn’t go as he’d planned, Morpheus had decided that he’d killed the cocky bastard himself and he wouldn’t lose an hour of sleep because if Joplin died, the stubborn fuck will have deserved it. Family was family, and if Raal’s son had to die, he would damn well do it himself; and he would do it right. He owed that much to his brother; that and so much more. He pushed the thought to the rear of his brain, deciding that this was one problem he’d already sorted out. In fact...he couldn’t wait to finally get this shit off of his back. His thought leapt forward, then his minds eye filled with Mikita; the love of his life. He had her back, and this time, he wouldn’t fuck it up. Once this was all over, he’d be free to give her his full attention. They would get married, then he would suggest that they have another child. He would mend fences, restoring his relationships with Fawn and Bolden. Then, he would finally have a family. He would embrace the idea of house and home; bonding, companionship and all that other bullshit that Raal and Kyle are constantly bragging about. Morpheus could envision Raal, and the way he bragged about his children and their mother’s. He found himself thinking about the sister that he hadn’t seen in over twenty years. He wanted to make peace. He wanted her to atone for past mistakes. He groaned because bad choices had been to blame for the distance that plagued his family. He felt an itch calling attention to his trigger finger. He puzzled over the last time he’d killed a man. Oddly, this thought cranked up an irritating thought. He muttered a curse, then his anger boiled and he didn’t suppress his vexation.