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Authors: Daniel Lawlis

Tags: #espionage, #martial arts, #fighting, #sword fighting

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BOOK: The Infiltrators
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“I’ve got it.”

 

“The day may come where more have to
know if we’re to survive against our enemies. But I don’t think
we’re there yet.”

 

Tats nodded.

 

“And I want you to know that your
safety is one of my highest priorities. I’m in the process of
working on some additional protection, but for now this is the best
I can do. These birds will warn you if you’re in danger. If they
do, get to one of your mansions as soon as possible. You don’t want
to fight these guys out in the open.”

 

“What do you know about them, Mr.
Brass?”

 

“Right now, not much. But I plan on
changing that soon. I’m pretty sure a new fellow that’s working at
my ranch used to be part of their organization. Finding out more is
one of my top priorities,” Righty said.

 

Tats wanted to ask more but knew
better.

 

Righty closed their meeting with a firm
handshake.

 

“Watch your six, friend, and pass the
word down to everyone that they’re to do the same. Ethan would
probably be best off if he got himself a new mansion and soon. He
should get one that’s far less luxurious, yet far better shielded
by trees. Then, he can surround it with guards without catching the
neighbors’ attention, and he can brace himself for what’s likely to
be an attack very soon.

 

“If they were watching Rob secretly
when he showed up at the place they told him to, they’re soon going
to be following all of his couriers closely, and they’ll eventually
discover his source.”

 

Tats nodded. “I’ll pass the word down,
Mr. Brass.”

 

“You take care of yourself.”

 

Righty let out a whistle, hopped on
Harold, and set off.

 

When Harold set him down at the
periphery of his new ranch that night, near a horse tied to a tree,
he told him, “Change of plans. Go find some pholung chicks. I’m not
leaving this ranch till you have. And if you don’t, then I’m
through with this business. There’s a storm comin’, and I’m gonna
need a lot more muscle.”

 

Harold nodded immediately and then set
off, squawking dominantly, ordering a large portion of the konulans
to accompany him.

 

“Some first day back on the job,”
Righty muttered to himself as he rode up to his house.

 

He found some tolerably warm food left
in the oven and, when he reached the bed, some tolerably warm
company.

 

Chapter 19

 

“Head south of Ringsetter. Hide in the
woods behind Righty’s old house,” Harold said.

 

But Ringsetter’s south. The
pholungs are northwest of here,
the
konulans wanted to say, but they had already seen Harold assert
himself earlier that day with Mr. Simmers, and they now fully
understood there was no appeal to Harold’s instructions.

 

“I’ll meet up with you
soon—hopefully before dawn—and
then
we’ll go pholung hunting. I’ve got some pressing
business to attend to.”

 

Their paths were nearly identical, but
whereas the konulans flew almost directly south, Harold’s path was
just slightly southeast.

 

Around an hour later, Harold perched in
a tree outside Pitkins’ house. He wasn’t sure whether he’d succeed
at all, much less before dawn.

 

His sharp eyes pierced the darkness. He
saw a large dog outside the house, but no sign of
Koksun.

 

He had arrived realizing he was going
to have to do something slightly bold and risk exposure, so he
decided to proceed now rather than wait for Koksun to step outside
of his own accord.

 

He flew high into the sky, almost
directly above the Great Dane. He then dropped at free-fall speed
until he was around sixty feet from the ground.

 

He then flared his wings out wide and
flew directly past the handsome animal.

 

Mervin leapt to his feet and began
chasing the intruder, barking ferociously for good
measure.

 

Mervin’s hearing was far better than
his eyesight, however, and while he would never have fallen for
such a trick with a terrestrial animal, he continued chasing in
Harold’s direction not realizing Harold had doubled back towards
the house while traveling at several hundred feet.

 

He landed on the roof carefully, just
as he heard a door flung open, followed promptly by quick
footsteps.

 

He saw Pitkins with a nasty-looking
sword in hand, turning around in all directions, scanning for the
source of the usually peaceful Mervin’s alarm.

 

When Pitkins was a good thirty paces
away, Harold risked letting out a soft meow. A moment later, he saw
the slinky beast cautiously exit the house, nose twitching and ears
perked halfway up to the roof.

 

“Koksun,” Harold said
softly.

 

He looked up.

 

“It’s Chip. Southeast corner of the
property in ten minutes. Climb a tree; I’ll find you.”

 

Harold left the house in the opposite
direction, thinking it best if Koksun didn’t see Chip was about
five hundred times his old size, and while Harold glided silently
over to the western edge of the property, he realized how lucky he
was that it was a moonless night.

 

As soon as he reached the cover of the
woods, he circled around to the southeast corner and climbed a
large tree.

 

He wasn’t sure if he’d risk doubling
back again if Koksun didn’t come, so he breathed a sigh of relief
when he saw the slinky little rascal approaching the southeast
corner, stopping every several yards to sniff and investigate for
danger.

 

“Hey, hurry it up, would ya?” Harold
called once Koksun was within a few hundred yards.

 

Koksun speeded it up, but couldn’t help
notice the once chirpy voice sounded far more majestic and
authoritative.

 

Some of Tristan’s tinkering,
no doubt,
he thought to himself, having no
idea how right he was.

 

He climbed swiftly up the tree, still
expecting to see the little bird he could swallow at a whim, and
when he saw the monster sitting atop a large branch he nearly fell
from the tree.

 

“It’s all right, Koksun. Tristan gave
me an upgrade. You spared my life when you could have taken it many
times. You have nothing to fear from me now that I could do the
same.”

 

Koksun was grateful for the statement
of goodwill but not for the observation that his life existed only
at Chip’s pleasure.

 

“They no longer call me Chip. Tristan
himself changed my name to Harold.”

 

“I’ve hoped you’d come by for a long
time.”

 

“You have?” Harold asked in genuine
surprise. “Why?”

 

“Do you have any idea—can you even
imagine—what it’s like playing the role of housecat when you’re
fully capable of engaging in intelligent conversation?”

 

“I guess I’ve never been in that
situation. Well, do you want to come with me? What’s keeping you
here?”

 

Koksun looked at Harold
suspiciously.

 

“What have you done to occupy your time
lately? I suspect you eat pretty damn good.”

 

“I haven’t suffered hunger yet,” Harold
conceded.

 

Koksun was at a loss as to the sudden
opportunity to exit his painfully boring life at Pitkins’ house. He
enjoyed playing with Mervin, but he was too used to a life of
adventure to stay here forever. Even when with Tristan, he had
played the role of close adviser to a man constantly scheming. But
life at Pitkins’ house could not be more routine.

 

Yet, now that he was offered an escape,
he suddenly felt himself unable to leave. He felt somehow he might
be needed there one day, yet he had no idea why, other than it
related to Smokeless Green.

 

“What is Tristan up to these
days?”

 

“Couldn’t tell you. I haven’t seen him
in years. I found him shortly after I left you here, and then he
disappeared.”

 

“Then what have you been up to? You
were always a workaholic. And why the hell did Tristan upgrade you
like that if he was just going to leave you afterwards?”

 

“He told me he was training my new
master and that one day he will return to me.”

 

“But you don’t know when?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“So, what the hell do you do all
day?”

 

“I’m currently a partner with my future
master’s father.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“Selling Smokeless Green.”

 

“YOU WHAT?!!!”

 

Koksun leapt across the five feet
separating him from the trunk Harold’s branch was connected to,
pushed off it, and within less than a second he had his claws
wrapped around Harold’s throat.

 

Harold knew he could take off and let
the prospect of a several-hundred-foot drop inform Koksun’s
decision as to whether it would be a good idea to slash his throat,
but instead he looked right at Koksun unmoved and
unshaken.

 

“Remove your claws, Koksun. It’ll be
better for you.”

 

His calm demeanor impressed him more
than the command itself.

 

Reluctantly, he let go and hopped down
onto the same branch Koksun was on.

 

“Why the hell’re you doing that? What’s
gotten into you?”

 

“As you said, I’m a workaholic. I was
bored before I came across my current partner, and now I rarely
have a boring day. I’m not even so sure I’ll accept my new master
if and when he appears.”

 

“But Tristan will—”

 

Koksun stopped. He admired Harold’s new
mentality. His sycophantic deference to Tristan had been a bit
repulsive, even though he himself had done the same to save his
hide. He wished he had the nerve to stand up to Tristan—even if it
was just by talking like that behind his back. Tristan had robbed
him of a promising career in the Varco. He was no
friend.

 

He stopped his thoughts when he noticed
the intimidating sharpness in Harold’s eyes.

 

“What are you here for, Harold? I’d be
happy for a social call, but I doubt that’s why you’re
here.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Then?”

“I need information.”

 

“And what do I get?”

 

“I just offered to take you out of this
place, but you weren’t interested.”

 

Now Koksun was seriously beginning to
consider the offer. Donive would cry for him—at least he thought
so. Mervin would probably miss him, maybe even Pitkins. But he was
getting sick of pretending to be an ordinary house cat.

 

Why in the hell wouldn’t you
take him up on this? You won’t even have to see Tristan
anymore.

 

“Okay, fair enough. You’ve made a
pretty good offer. I’m not saying I’ll take it, but it’s
appreciated.”

 

“What is it you want to know
about?”

 

“The source of Smokeless Green.
Everything about it. Where it comes from. Who plants it.
Everything.”

 

“Okay, so first let me ask you
something. How well do you get along with this ‘partner’ of yours?
Does he know you can speak?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“And he’s okay with that?”

 

“Wouldn’t you be if you were him? I’m a
rather convenient tool, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“I thought you were his
partner.”

 

“Obviously not in the way a human would
be. I’ve got no use for his money. But I exercise independent
control over a large number of his agents.”

 

“Tell me more.”

 

“Not so fast. You’re getting lots of
information, but not giving any.”

 

Koksun grew silent. He knew Harold was
right.

 

“What would my position be if I were to
join you? I’m not answering to you. I can tell you that right
now.”

 

“The best I can do is promise to highly
recommend your skills and wisdom to my partner, and I’m sure he’ll
find a way to put them to use.”

 

“In what?”

 

“You’ve got all the information you’re
gonna get from me until you start answering some of my
questions.”

BOOK: The Infiltrators
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