Part 9 (1/2)

Marilyn London walked in and sat down. ”h.e.l.lo boys, glad to be on the team.”

”What's this b.i.t.c.h doing here?” Vernon snapped.

”Now, now,” Edward responded, positioning himself behind Marilyn.

”We must welcome the opposite s.e.x in the workplace.”

”You think this is some kind of game,” growled Vernon. ”If the s.h.i.+t hits the fan, you'll stink with the rest of us. This wh.o.r.e can't be trusted.

How much does she know?”

”Everything,” said Marilyn. ”Look, I'm not thrilled about working with you either. I usually operate alone. But Edward made an offer too good to refuse.”

Simon nervously picked at a scab on his hand. ”No offense to the b.i.t.c.h, but I agree. This is no time for new faces.” He looked over at Marilyn. ”Or amateurs.”

Marilyn's ladylike demeanor melted away. ”I ought to blow your brains out all over this room. Amateur! That little stunt you pulled down at the mission-that was amateur!”

Marilyn walked over to Simon and leaned in close to his ear. ”And from one b.i.t.c.h to another, if you ever insult me again, I'll add your p.r.i.c.k to my private collection. I have quite a few already, but for you, I'll make room.”

”Sit down Marilyn,” Edward snarled.

Marilyn returned to her seat, eyes stayed on Simon's, who glared back, teeth grinding, nostrils flared.

”All of you better listen close,” said Edward. ”I want the evidence found and brought to me, I don't care how you get it done. Or like I said before Ms. London joined us, your family trees will come to an end.”

”Now, you listen to me,” said Vernon. ”I don't know about these high price flunkies. You can treat them any way you like, but I've earned more respect than you've shown me today.” Vernon pushed up and marched to the far end of the table. ”You helped a.s.sa.s.sinate a President for Christ's sake. Do you have any idea what that means, you pompous a.s.shole?”

Edward sat poker faced. Detached. Unmoved.

”Let me give you a little warning,” Vernon continued. ”I'll catch and kill Robert Veil and Charlie, but don't think I'm moved by your threats.

If I go down, you and the whole Rothschild clan will burn in h.e.l.l with me. I promise.”

Marilyn and Simon raised eyebrows. Edward sat quietly.

”Young junior, failed Presidential candidate, will be the least of your problems,” Vernon continued. ”I'll make sure the name Rothschild isn't worth toilet paper. So don't ever threaten me again and don't dream of f.u.c.king with me.”

Vernon threw open the conference room door and stormed out.

After a short, awkward moment, Simon rose. ”It's been an enlightening afternoon Mr. Rothschild.” His eyes narrowed. ”Pleased to make your acquaintance again Ms. London.” Edward stayed silent, chilly. Simon pulled a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. ”Well, I'll be going now, but rest a.s.sured, I'll do my best to help put an end to this matter urgently.” He softly closed the door behind him. Marilyn's mood brightened. Edward pulled a cigar from his inside jacket pocket.

He pushed Vernon as planned. Necessary, he thought. He needed the evidence, and wanted Veil, Thorne, and Charlie dead, before things got out of hand. He looked over at his trump card. Marilyn London.

Marilyn never failed him. That's why he called her first from his limo the day Vernon informed him Charlie talked to Veil. Marilyn loved to hunt and kill. Her greed almost surpa.s.sed his. The perfect killing machine.

”I want you to take care of Robert Veil and the others as soon as possible,” said Edward, lighting the cigar. ”You've made contact, right?”

”Certainly,” said Marilyn. ”He's working on the murders of those federal judges. You know, the Bear.”

”So I've heard,” said Edward. ”Perfect. Then you won't have trouble getting close to him.”

Marilyn smiled. ”No, I won't.”

”What about his partner, Thorne?” Edward asked.

Marilyn's brow furrowed. ”I'll kill Veil and Charlie, no problem.

But I want that b.i.t.c.h to suffer.”

Edward laughed. Thorne managed to get under Marilyn's skin. A feat not easily accomplished.

”There is one small matter to tend to first,” said Marilyn. ”Money.”

”We have a deal already,” Edward sneered. ”Five million for the lot.”

”I didn't know all the details. Just how involved were you in Kennedy's death?”

”Kennedy's not the issue here. Five million's the deal; take it or leave it.”

”Ten million dollars in my offsh.o.r.e account in the Isle of Man. Half now, half in a Swiss account, to be transferred later as I instruct.” She smiled. ”Or you can go f.u.c.k yourself.”

Maniacal b.i.t.c.h. Edward puffed the expensive tobacco. She's right to squeeze. I would. ”Done,” he told her.

Marilyn locked the door, unb.u.t.toned her blouse, walked over and dropped to her knees. She undid his pants and swallowed his manhood.

He moaned. Yes. She is the antichrist.

10.

Four weeks pa.s.sed. Charlie, asleep on Robert's deep cus.h.i.+oned sofa, snored heavily. Robert sipped a cup of coffee, watching the old man from the kitchen, on a slow burn.

Charlie gave him a scare, pa.s.sing out a month earlier. He thought the old man died right there on his carpet, but finally managed to resuscitate him with mouth to mouth. Reluctantly, Robert called in a favor from Dr.

Ronald Jones, an old friend from the Marines whose life he'd once saved. Dr. Jones diagnosed Charlie's condition as advanced stage tuberculosis, and put him on aggressive antibiotic therapy. The doctor couldn't be sure without x-rays, but guessed Charlie probably had very little lung tissue left, and gave him at most six months to live.

Charlie drifted in and out of consciousness, slowly getting stronger and coughing less. Robert didn't bring up Rothschild or the a.s.sa.s.sination, giving the old man a chance to recover before pressing him. Now Charlie felt better and Robert wanted details.

Thorne arrived with the video equipment, all business, and without so much as a h.e.l.lo, quickly set up the camera and recorders. Robert woke Charlie, who sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. Robert pulled up a chair. Thorne checked the equipment, and signaled.

”State your name for the record,” said Robert. ”Then tell us how you got involved with Rothschild, and what took place that day.” Thorne positioned herself behind the camera next to a small color monitor and tape recorder.

Charlie stated his name, spelled it, then lowered his head. ”It's difficult,” he said, in a broken voice.

Robert's heart pounded. Thorne's hand quivered as she adjusted the controls.

”Two governments have always existed side by side. One visible, the other invisible,” said Charlie. ”When President Kennedy, arrogant, and so sure of himself, said he wanted to splinter the CIA into a thousand pieces and scatter it to the winds, the invisible emerged and ended his life.”