As usual, Malik made a great point, but not one which had gone unconsidered.
“Which is why he won’t be alone when zero hour knocks on his front door. The prodigal brother must stand at Trevor’s side. Then we’ll know for sure – ally or dead man.”
“Good,” Malik said with a sharp rap on the desk. “Then you’ll make no exception for them?”
“Of course not, Son. Only those fully committed to the path are indispensable. The rest, we remove without prejudice.”
“Even the Stallions?”
“Even them.”
Shad told Malik what he wanted to hear. Yet Shad’s heart spoke otherwise: Someday soon, he would sit down with the brothers at the end of their long journey to share war stories – from the old one and the most recent.
Shad finally visualized the moment where all his stratagems arrived at a single nexus.
Patience, old friend. It’s coming. Patience.
“Red Team will be on Catalan within the hour,” Malik said. “If they pull this off, the last opposition will fall.”
The thought warmed Shad’s heart.
“And then, my patient son, we will be one step closer to ending the rot that infects our galaxy.”
“I hope you’re right, Father. If this move fails, we’ll be set back by years.”
“We’re ready, Malik.”
Shad studied the holos and switched them out to examine the scope of his shadow empire. So many years of hard work, discipline, and patience.
His eyes came back to two images.
“I’m so pleased you never left my life,” he whispered to the brothers. “See you on Amity Station.”
2
Barca City, Federal Capital of Catalan
Standard Year 5394, Standard Day 112
THE STREETS WERE WIDE, wet, and alive. The sloshing of shoes, the wispy clouds of cigar smoke, the blare of party horns, the liquor-induced giddiness. Above, a steady rumble from elevated trains and the muffled din of the autoways filled the night air. Lightning flashed from the just-passed storm. The metropolis was exactly like Connor imagined.
A year ago, he would have reveled in the chaos of the Collectorate’s largest city. His fascination with the most crowded, noisy, polluted, vibrant, eclectic, innovative, and dangerous place on forty worlds would have fed his days and nights with endless adventure.
The people dressed in bright, showy colors – and not just the prostitutes, street performers, and barkers. They walked with a swagger that all but invited trouble. Nor were they limited to the native descendants of the Basques and Moors who were forced to colonize Catalan a thousand years ago.
Half of Barca’s sixty million residents were born off-world. Some desperately seeking a new start; others hunting a fortune they’d never find. More drawn to its nonstop energy. Together with the locals, they built this cacophony of concrete, steel, and Carbedyne. They fueled an economic powerhouse, but also burnished it with unchecked crime and seething debauchery.
Polished Connor despised what became of the city.
Did it not represent everything Requiem intended to cleanse? Was it not the symbol of humanity’s failures run amok?
The miracle was that the city did not implode under the weight of its disorder, corruption, and filth.
It needed a firm hand capable of sweeping away the Motif dealers, the cartels, the fanatics, and the perverts. Barca City could be a shining symbol for a new Collectorate, but only after the inevitable war and reconstruction.
One step at a time.
Reward through patience.
The sea of humanity parted for Connor and his mate, Kaz Velky. Though Connor’s sheer bulk intimidated the rabble by itself, everyone who saw he and Kaz approach knew to give way and shade their eyes.
Only certain men wore a brown leather bucket hat with a wide, flat brim. These men completed their ensemble with a matching trench coat and a gold necklace bearing an eight-sided pendant.
Impersonating a member of the Cauldron invited fast death.
Connor wasn’t worried. He’d be out of this ridiculous costume and en route to Hampton Wave in less than two hours – by then, actual members of the Cauldron might thank him and Red Team for their actions. Establishing order was a bloody business.
Not that anyone would ever appreciate what Requiem did on their behalf.
Connor pulled on a cigar as he moved unfettered through the crowd, tracking his route and the progress of Red Team’s other duos through tinted glasses.
They prepped for three weeks, examined every nugget of intel for flaws, and tracked their prey with the combined help of field agents co-opted from SI as well as updates from Nexus. Requiem’s No. 1 ally did business with several of tonight’s targets.
“Check in,” Lt. Hoshi Oda said in Connor’s ear.
“Stallion and Velky on pace. We’ll enter the site in two minutes and ten seconds.”
“Perfect. Continue forward unless you hear otherwise.”
