Prologue
He swallowed. Hard.
"And what will happen if we do not reach an agreement?"
The man facing him reached into his business suit's pocket. Today, he was wearing a jet-black suit and hat that matched both his disposition and the dark, gloomy room. "I'll be generous enough to let you choose: We can imprison you in our strongest, most fortified dungeon for the rest of your miserable life; you can "help" us develop a new, stronger weapon; or we can make your branch disown you and take away everything you have. We have the resources for all of those."
Even though Rupert was nervous and knew what was hidden inside that pocket, he managed to let out a snort. "My branch would never listen to you."
The man wearing black raised a thin eyebrow. "Oh? And how can you be sure of that?"
Rupert shifted his weight from foot to foot, leaning against the cold stone wall. "Well, you've lied to them, cheated, and stole. You've probably tried to kill them, oh, about five hundred times, too. You really expect them to listen to whatever nonsense you have?"
The black-clad man's patience snapped. Even with Rupert's advanced Cahill training, he did not see the man whip out a sharp, glistening knife. He did, however, see the jagged tip mere inches from his exposed throat.
He stifled a gasp.
The man glared at him. "There's more where that came from. Now, I want an answer: Will you help me or not?"
"May—May I ask a question?" Rupert stammered.
"Make it quick," the man barked.
Rupert hesitated, feeling small beads of sweat start to leak down his forehead. Luckily, his long brown bangs hid them from view.
"Spit it out!" came the command.
"What happens if I do go along with your plan?" he asked tentatively.
The man relaxed slightly, but the knife stayed where it was.
"You, and everyone who agrees, will receive enough money to make you rich."
Rupert hid his disappointment, eyeing the knife warily. "But I'm already rich."
"Hah!" he man sneered. "What I'm willing to give you will make you rich beyond imagination."
Rupert swallowed, and nodded ever so slightly. "So what's the assignment, again?"
The man scowled, his features twisting into a deadly look. "Weren't you listening?"
"Y-Yes, but I want to clarify." Normally, the Janus agent wouldn't stutter, but if the stories he had heard about the man were true, than he had every right to be scared.
"Call the others."
Rupert whipped out a phone, complete with all the latest features, and spoke into it. "Janus, report to me! Ekats, you too! He will explain our assignment!"
The man wearing black leered at him, sheathing the knife. "It's a wonder anybody ever listens to you."
Rupert was about to spit back a reply when the other agents strode into the small, dimly-lit room. The small wooden door creaked shut, hiding the only other room—a small dusty waiting room—in the small building from view.
One agent peered at a small candle flicking high on the wall, but at the imposing man's stern look, he hurried over to where the rest of the group huddled together.
"Now," the man barked, pacing from wall to wall. "You know that there are three, let's say, favours, I need. There are three groups of people who can give me those favours. Your jobs will be to find them and bring them here via the Gladarim. Then you collect your rewards, walk out of here and never meddle with my affairs again. Got it?"
One Ekaterina agent, wearing dark blue, called out, "Who are we supposed to look for?"
The man glared at him. "I was getting to that. But now that you've asked, I may as well tell you: The Cahills, the Kabras, and the Holts."
"I'm sure you'll want the Kabra parents and Holt parents, but the Cahills are children. Are you implying we are supposed to capture the… children?" Murmurs of agreement came out of the small assembled group.
"No, you dimwit," the man glared at him, "I want the Kabra children and the Holt duo. But, yes, I need the Cahill children."
"Holt duo?" A confused Janus asked. "But there are three Holt children."
"I only require two—the boy and the younger girl. They will be sufficient." His strong voice was sharp and efficient.
The Janus nodded, satisfied.
"The Janus will go for the Holts," he began.
"Wait!" A bold Ekat called. "We want to capture the Tomas!"
"Are you defying me?" the man glowered, his voice soft and threatening. "The Janus will go for the Holts."
The Ekat stayed silent, hoping his now-trembling form would not be visible to the frightening man.
"The Ekaterinas will capture the Kabras," he continued. "The Janus will also retrieve Dan, and the Ekats will go for Amy. It would be best if you separated the Cahills. They will be collected next Monday. This gives you three days to grab your supplies and organize your groups."
He paused, and turned to face the group.
"Now, get going!"
As the door slowly creaked shut on badly-oiled hinges, Lambert allowed a small, crooked grin to slide up his dark face.
If all went well, and he had no doubt it would, he would be the undisputed leader of the Madrigals with more power than anyone could imagine. It would be a thing to look forward to.
He strode out of the room, slamming the door shut.
Author's Note: This chapter is a bit short, but the following chapters will be longer. It's also unbeta'd, but I read it over a few times. This is my first attempt at a 39 Clues fanfiction, so reviews are appreciated.