The Crackhead II

Chapter 1- First Proof

10 years have passed since Chris first entered The Order. He was now 28 years old and had already enjoyed all his position's bonuses. He was living in his remodeled Crackhead's Villa. The villa was now 3 stories tall and included a big outdoors pool and an underground garage. Chris was sitting in a comfortable chair on top of his house's roof, taking a sunbath in that middle-august day.

"Everything is going as planned. I don't even have to take missions anymore. All those years rewards, the pain and fear were worth it."

He rubbed his beard with his right hand, thinking of something. Chris's face hadn't made a sincere good smile since he lost his father. At that moment, a young girl came near him holding his preferred cocktail, a Savoy Corpse Reviver. Crackhead took the drink without looking at girl's face. She bowed her head and left. Chris was paying 3 bodyguards, 2 personal drivers, 4 house-maidens, one professional cook and a professional bar-tender. All those money came from his missions rewards. Firstly, he was amazed from the economic potential of The Order, but after 10 years, he was just enjoying his income without thinking too much. He drank a little from his cocktail.

"There is a new meeting tomorrow. Igor is really annoying my nerves. I guess he is more annoying than his former boss, Faust. After his death . . . of course, his most trusted servant, Igor, would take his place. I remember that day when Igor heard the news of Faust's heart attack. He was not happy as a normal person would be."

Crackhead laughed a little.

"He really was a good servant . . . The Order has really gotten into problems lately. But it's still same old, same old. Kahn, that German old man is still standing in his boss-rank. Also, those Chinese and Japanese grandpas Lin and Ookami are still there. Whitey is on his greatest times . . . at least I got Brandon backing me up. After Mike's retirement, Brandon finally got his place in the boss-rank. Mike . . . "

Crackhead smiled a little.

"Where are you hiding?"

Chris rested his drink on the table. He got up, sweating from the hot sunrays. Chris stepped down to the third floor and entered a bathroom there. He left his sunglasses and looked in the mirror. Chris was looking at a handsome, but evil man.

"I am evil . . . yes I am"

Suddenly he remembered his old depression times when he broke his mirror by punching it. Chris was having a headache. He decided to take a shower.

*

Jason Marlow was sitting in his little office looking at all the papers on the table. His brain was overloaded with information. His career as a FBI detective was at risk. After many unexplained deaths of police-officers and illegal activities, he still couldn't find a single proof. The detective was sure he was not making any mistake analyzing The Order, but something was wrong. His eyes were tired. Jason took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. Jason sighed and put his glasses back on.

"Yes? Come in!"

A tall skinny man was holding some papers. He rushed in.

"Sir, I got some new information for you!"

He moved some of Jason's papers away and put his documents there. Jason started to check them in detail. While the detective was looking at the new proofs, the man started to talk quickly.

"We now know why Bob was killed! The Order assassinated him because of his relation with the reborn Casanostra. The old documents showed that he was killed by the mafia but this new facts . . ."

Jason got up quickly.

"Good job Tim, where did you get this information?"

The man felt happy and relieved.

"The police actually captured one of the reborn Casanostra guys. They are weak as always."

Jason's eyes changed from tired to happy. But that lasted only for a moment. He sat down immediately as soon as he realized something.

"Someone was giving us false information! That means . . . The Order was manipulating us, since the very beginning!"

"Yes sir, the traitor hides in this institution."

"No Tim, no. The traitor is everywhere! He had gotten our autopsy doctors, our documents and who knows what else."

Jason's face changed to serious again. Tim tried to keep his boss in mood.

"Sir, police is requesting someone outside its headquarters to help with the investigation. Are you going or should we still wait?"

Jason shouted.

"How come don't we have a name yet?! All these years . . . we had no damn clue!"

"Sir are you . . ."

Jason looked at his subordinate with anger.

"I will Tim. I am going there tomorrow."

*

Chris went out of his bath and entered one of his many resting rooms. He was a little angry.

"I still got no clue about that man . . . after all this time, none knows where Smokey or other hitmen are! I have tried everything I can."

But then he reconsidered his thoughts, as he fell in his bed.

"I am just fine! I am thinking about it too much, as always. Of course I will find him. Nothing, will stop me."

Chris was curious about his tomorrow boss-rank meeting.

^AchingThoughts^.^