48 and Counting
By Mizhowlinmad (HBF), 2010
Summary: Response to ATSB "Get Caught Reading" Challenge. There can be only one master of the Laws of Power in TAT Land, but one of his "students" shows a surprising bit of expertise in the field. Some liberties with the timeline, as the actual book was not written until 1998…
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: TAT belongs to SJC and Universal. I'm borrowing them to demonstrate the Laws of Power. Said book is written by Robert Greene and belongs to him. The complete list can be found here, for those who are curious:
./cg/courses/cgt411/covey/48_laws_of_
Some men made it a point to study the Bible at this late hour, letting their fingers roam through the Psalms or the Gospels in search of esoteric knowledge they had previously overlooked in years of reading. Or maybe it was the Tao te-Ching or the Qu'ran instead, depending on the man's particular persuasion. Maybe even Tropic of Cancer.
Hunt Stockwell was not one of these men.
His book was smaller, unassuming. He liked his books to be concise…and yet full of useful things. Like perhaps a viper that seemed at first glance to be an unmoving piece of the surrounding fauna, but whose fangs contained the deadliest of poisons.
In his private study aboard the Empress, the book's pages were a buttery yellow under the single lamp's light. Somewhere far below were the inky waters of the Pacific. They were en route to Kyoto, and, in sixteen hours, one had to keep one's mind occupied. This book was a favorite of his and had been read many times.
Stockwell peered down at the current page. Law 18. The margins were crammed with his neat, cramped handwriting. That particular law was interesting:
"Do not build fortresses to protect yourself. Isolation is dangerous."
To an amateur, it would seem the Empress herself was a fortress, and Stockwell the monarch who ruled from within her walls. But that was too simplistic a way to look at it. If one bothered to look closer, as Smith and his team had done with increasingly annoying precision in the past month, one would see that it was a way for him to interact with people without becoming like one of them. Law 8:
"Make other people come to you, using bait if necessary."
Intently, he scribbled another note with his Cross pen in the small unused space. Like the Bible or any other holy text, the book appeared to have many contradictions, but all worked out in the end.
Smith, he knew, had not read this book and would have no need for it. Smith was smart, very smart, but his undoing would be his recklessness.
Stockwell, like the viper, would simply wait for the right time to strike. And when Smith and the others no longer suited his needs and ends, he would cut them loose. Not that he'd miss them, of course.
"Evening, General," a voice interrupted him. It rarely happened when he was so engrossed in his reading that he failed to notice someone intruding upon his space. He wondered if he weren't getting a little soft.
The visitor was easily recognized even in the dim light. "Lieutenant. What are you doing up at this hour?"
Face grinned at him, looking boyish. "I couldn't get into the in-flight movie, and Murdock's hogging all the blankets."
"So, you came here to…" Stockwell said, "I don't know, play a game of 'Truth or Dare' with me? You do know this area is strictly off-limits." His voice was deceptively low, and he tried a smile of his own. "Back to your own quarters now."
But Face, perhaps emboldened by his commanding officer's brand of cheeky disrespect, wasn't going anywhere. "You wouldn't happen to have any of those little bags of peanuts in here, would you? I already ate that pretty bad excuse for an in-flight meal, and…"
"Out, Lieutenant."
Something about Face's casual posture in the doorway made Stockwell's blood boil. "Tell you what. I know you've got some Glenfiddich stashed in here somewhere. If I tell you something you didn't already know, it's mine. Sound fair?"
Stockwell knew a trap when he saw one. "Only one shot, of course. I won't be able to get a fresh supply until we're back stateside." He leaned back in his chair.
"All right, then, three things." Face ticked off on his fingers as he approached the mahogany desk. "One…try law 43 for a change. We took an in-house vote and we all agree that's a good place to start. Two, I know that runner in Kyoto doesn't work for the Japanese Embassy at all; she's Yakuza. And three?" He tipped his head in that cloying way. "It's not in the book, by the way…you should try and smile like you mean it sometimes."
"Smile?" Stockwell raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Face did. "How do you think I got the kosher in-flight meal and the Cabernet?"
"If it were that easy, everyone would do it."
"If it were really that easy…" Face reached out a hand for one of the cut crystal glasses in a tray, "I'd have had to find a real job years ago."
Stockwell reluctantly poured. Face drank, appreciating the aged whisky.
"That's quite good. I'll have to request it on our next mission. 'Night, General." The empty glass made a soft clink.
It wouldn't do for one of Smith's men to see him the least bit angry. So he kept reading. Law 30:
"Make your accomplishments seem effortless."
Damn you, Peck.
Fini