A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 64: Minister Albanese

"Be sure to keep an eye on my granddaughter while we're out," Setrákus tells the Mog, who nods and bows in understanding. "She is not permitted into any room but her own or the library to seek her studies, nor will she enter the Training Hall without me."

"Of course, Sir. No need to worry."

"We will return before noon," he says. "If we don't, radio General Irwinick."

"Yes, Sir."

The Mog scurries off and he turns to me then. Once the ramp extends, we make our way down. It's hot already in Australia. I'm not even directly under the sun, but the heat is unbearable as if I am. It's stirring. "You aren't really going to open fire on Japan, right?" I ask as we walk.

"Let's hope not." The thought of another city bombardment is enough to shake me to my core. "But if Minister Albanese does not see reason, I will have no choice. I am only merciful to a point."

Of course, I know this. "Do you think he will?"

He hardly reacts to that and utters a meager, "Mm." I don't know what to make of it. "Sydney is meant to be a much more understanding state than the Americas."

I nod because he must be right. I really don't know. I've never been to Australia before, let alone the Prime Minister's white house; I think they call it the Lodge. But for their sakes, I hope Minister Albanese is easier to deal with. I don't want to have to risk more trauma and casualties.

I'm supposed to be making sure everything runs smoothly. Ergokinesis lets me feel the senses when they're not in proximity—a conversation that's meant to be kept secret from miles away, a ticking fuse in another room, even bad omens—which makes me the perfect candidate to detect how Prime Minister Albanese views us, according to Setrákus Ra. Plus, with my faster-than-average reflexes, I can step in before anyone if anything goes wrong—not that anything will go wrong—but as Setrákus said, "precautions."

We meet two security personnel at the front doors; they get the limo doors for us. "Mr. Albanese is expecting you," one of them grunts. "Top floor. Come with me."

Mr. Brown leads us inside and to the elevator. I must admit, the Lodge is classy, more than I first expected, even for a Prime Minister! It's as if everything's glossed over with a rose tint. "Stay with me the entire time we're here," Setrákus mutters under his breath, leaning in oh so slightly.

I know what he means without even asking. He wants me to use my telepathy to stay linked to his head, which is smart. Why shouldn't I? It gives us a chance to communicate without letting Mr. Albanese or anyone else know. I nod to show him I understand.

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese looks like a semi-decent man. He's white with no tan and is certainly on the older side of his career; I'd wager fifties or sixties. He has an off-putting smile that says, "Welcome to my country," but the eyes that tell me otherwise. I think he's just being accommodating so we'll leave sooner. He and Setrákus shake hands, then he smiles at me.

"Pleasure to meet you both," he says, but inside, I can feel him shaking.

"We appreciate the time you've taken today to discuss your political affairs," Setrákus starts.

"Please, have a seat," he urges, sitting behind his desk and folding his hands in front of him. "What's this about, ah, Mr. Ra? What political affairs are of interest to you?"

"I believe you already know that."

"You want power over Sydney?" Mr. Albanese cannot help but laugh, though it's strained. "I can't do that. This is not up for negotiations."

"I'm not negotiating." Holy shit! "It's not power that I seek, per say."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand."