And The Heart Grows Fonder

And The Heart Grows Fonder Part 4

CHAPTER 3

Cyprus

The private plane arrived on the flight pad in Cyprus on a chilly Wednesday evening. Lincoln and Mat exited the plane without passing through customs on account of their diplomatic aide passports. They entered the black stretch limo.

Lincoln did a double take at who was lounging at the far end. The Bricklayer. Holy shit. Lincoln released a slow breath on a cool whistle. For Maxckcom's number one underworld heavy hitter to be involved, this must be a real doozy of an operation.

The Bricklayer may as well have been named after his look of being built of hard muscle. To get all fired up in his grill must have been like attacking a brick wall. Like Audrianna would say, "Fuss' the guy was big." And he was tall, even taller than Lincoln. The guy could give The Rock and Cena a run for their money. He was the colour of molasses, and not an ounce of fat on him.

"Yo!" The Bricklayer nodded in greeting, nursing a toothpick between even, pearl white teeth.

"Wow, Brick." Lincoln's smile was cheeky, a little provocative. "I bet you're black all over."

Bricklayer laughed with the forever seductive twinkle in his eyes that Lincoln could not get enough of. "You want to find out just how much, Slick? Huh?"

Mat glanced up at the ceiling. "You two need some private time, I could share the front seat with the limo driver."

Lincoln and The Bricklayer laughed. The Bricklayer was not gay, but he was downright incorrigible. The Bricklayer was named after his most notable profession that entailed moving money. A nickname fashioned after the casino guys who laid down bricks of hundred dollar bills. He knocked the tinted, sliding glass window separating the driver's prying eyes from the action underway in the back seat. "Yo! Drive."

The limo pelted off the tarmac onto the main road at max speed. Two hours later, they pulled up to the entrance of a gated community.

The massive, black decorative gates opened up to a long, straight driveway that carried on for the length of a football field. The luxury property was encircled with green, leafy oak trees lining the path, lending to the atmosphere of absolute seclusion. The place diverted from the normal island, sultry, country feel of Cyprus and lent more to an English landscape.

Lincoln's eyebrows shot up as he noted the expanse of the custom designed plantings in the ostentatiously landscaped center garden as they drove along and immediately realized he had been mistaken. The grounds did not house an entire community, just a single home.

Someone dished out a lot of money to make this place look like it wasn't in Cyprus.

The limo passed two more dark sedans, stopping in front of an old, elegant residence backed by the similar, out-of-town oaks. The setting gave testimony to the definitive impression that its occupants lived a life of excessive luxury.

Decades of renovations that must have been made to make the residence appear modern did not fall short of making it look extravagant. Several curved, white marble stairs led to the landing. The grandiose architecture featured six white marble columns, nearly fifteen feet high, arranged in a semi-circle portico that supported the massive roof above the veranda. The walls were American Georgian red brick spanning two stories. Two rows of multiple windows lined the front and sides of the house. The lights were notably off except for the two below at the side, and the shades were drawn. A lone shadow could be seen pacing in that one.

It had been a few weeks since Lincoln had been honored by his magnanimous employer's presence. He came into closer view as the limo drew up in front of the entrance to the home.