The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 11.4 - Hunting for a Spider

Too Sure was only able to make two more runs of his morning route, one in either direction. All too soon, the appointed time was up.

He dropped Kipo off before he made his way to the airport. The boy would likely find some mischief or the other to get into before he made his way home.

As he raced Beauty to the Airport, Kwame wondered who'd reimburse him for the time lost. He was trying to pay off for Beauty. Did any of them get that?

He got the occasional odd eye as he forced his way into a parking spot. As if he wasn't going to pay, same as everyone else! Or perhaps it was the rumpled blue shirt he had pulled over his lucky singlet without buttoning up. Or even the chewing stick that still jutted out from his mouth... Let's say it might even have been a combination of all the above.

He bullied his way to the front of the crowd at Arrivals. His height lent a bit of an advantage here . He checked his watch. Yes, Mickey mouse agreed, it was five minutes the time he'd been given. His quarry was a no show.

So he waited.

An hour later, the face he was looking for was spotted. The 'Chechnyan' was un-missable. That dirty grey hair and those pale grey eyes set in a face that looked like it had been carved out of disagreeable stone.

There was one thing that Kwame hadn't expected though. The Chechnyan wasn't alone.

#

The other one was shorter, svelte and fresh faced in a sort of way that only good money could buy. He wore a well cut maroon suit, paired with an aqua blue shirt of just the right shade. His dark hair was parted just so, as if by some fortunate accident it was windblown and he ran his hand through it. His looked more prep-school than dangerous, a sharp contrast to the man he accompanied.

Kwame wasn't fooled. The languorous silk of the new dude's stride lent a strong clue. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like his contact had come along with a soldier.

The Chechnyan murmured a brisk greeting in his harsh accent, and handed over his travel bag to our Kwame. 

His companion was much more... companiable? He extended an arm as a friendly grin broke across his boyish face.

Kwame shook the proffered hand and extended his felicitations, "Hello, welcome to Ghana."

"Hello. Pleased to meet you."

"Patrick Archibald Astor III. Number 4 Gladiator. Easter Seaboard Sector of the Americas. Call me Trip."

His sending to Kwame was genial enough but its taste, to his mind, had enough steel to set him on edge.

"Don't worry kid," the Chechnyan muttered in confidence as Kwame led them to his vehicle, "he's on our side."

By 'our side', of course he meant the Conservative Cabal. A veritable 'card carrying member' of the old and faithful set.

By now, Kwame was more curious than he had been in the morning. What was the Cabal up to?

Author's Note

For real though? What could  the cabal be up to? Does it have something to do the ley nexus?