The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Shadow of Pluto - 35 - Richard

The little birds had flown.

A constant 'beep' inside the earphone told him that somewhere else in the building, a telephone kept ringing. Several indeed. He was calling the private rooms of Maxim. Usually, his son would never have left a call reaching him there unanswered, no matter the hour – firstly, because hardly anybody knew the combination of digits to reach this place, and, secondly, as no one who did, ever dared to use it if it was not very, very important.

Now, however, Maxim was obviously keen on playing 'rebellious child', presumably together with his younger brother.

Richard quit the phone call and answered an incoming one the next moment.

"Yes?", he spoke with a measured tone and calm voice.

"He is not here, Sir. The guard is dead. Headshot. Seems he was killed in the door frame and dragged inside after."

"Thank you", with that, he hung up, yet he kept the phone in his hand, just in case anybody else of his men wanted to inform him of some more news.

'Spare the rod, spoil the child', as far as that century-old idiom held any truth, he obviously had been sparing his boys too much, indeed. And that when he had thought that, he had been very clear with his threats and announcements.

He stood in his bedroom right now, unimpressed by the dead man on the carpet, whose eyes seemed to have nearly popped out because of his pre-exitus attempts to claw his larynx out of his throat.

"Send someone down to the gate. Make sure no one leaves", he had ordered the first man to heed his call to gather, without the slightest hint of emotion in his voice.

"Switch off the lights", he told the second.

Both left right away, their heavy steps vanished quickly down the hallways.

"The lights, Sir?", Quentin asked, a tall, dark shadow at his side and the only one left here with him, after all the others had been told to swarm the building and put the little birds back into their cages.

"Well, obviously they do not mind killing my men ... but what if my dear sons shot any of their friends mistakenly? Also ... I do not feel of making the flight easy for them. You know me: I am always happy to add the element of surprise for others, and to throw some bricks in their ways."

Of course, it was possible that in the chaos induced by the lack of light, his children came to harm as well, but he just could not manage to make himself worry about that. At this point, it seemed to be collateral damage. They had chosen to play with fire, and he would give them an inferno.

Still, certainly he preferred them all back in his hands, and alive. All his hostages! He had been too kind, too benevolent. That would change ...

"Quentin", he spoke softly, turning around to his right-hand man.

"Yes, Sir?"

"I want them found. All of them."

The tall, dark man nodded firmly. "Yes, Sir." Then he turned, to fulfill his duty, when Richard's eyes fixed upon the golden gown again, now lying on the floor, where it had been tossed to cover the dead man.

"And Quentin", his call made the other stop at once and look around.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't hit the Chinese in the face. I want him to be pretty when he gets his punishment."