Chapter Two: Reason To Kill
Large oak doors opened inward and Cyrus entered a large dimly lit room furnished with a long, centrally placed mahogany table complete with matching chairs and a series of cabinets displaying various trophies and photographs or an extensive alcohol collection. The only light came from two heavily shaded light bulbs located just beyond either end of the central furnishing, it bathed the wood in an orangey glow and kept whoever sat at the head of the table in an eerie shadow, like something out a spy film.
Cyrus ignored everything and went straight up to the table, the edge of which pressed slightly into his thighs when he came to a stop. He produced the phone, brought up the image and flattened the device screen down, then he flicked his arm forwards and sent it skidding down the length of the mahogany table towards the man eating a meal at the other end. It stopped thirty centimeters from his plate.
There was a pause.
Then a soft clinking sound as cutlery was placed on the plate. The man looked up at him, kept his gaze fixed as he reached for the device and turned it over. His focus changed to the image displayed.
A smile crept across his face.
He seemed to relish in seeing the image.
"Good," was all that was said, his face hidden still in shadow.
Cyrus didn't know why he did that; he'd already revealed his identity to Cyrus and he was well known to most of America too, maybe it made him feel intimidating. Not that he needed to take it any further, the man had already proven he was a lunatic and having significant leverage over Cyrus meant the young man was at his disposal either way.
His employer was heavy set from regular exercise, square-faced, neatly shaved and trimmed, always in a suit that varied in dark colours from blue to black. He wore dark-rimmed glasses and had blue eyes. His hair was brown, his skin tanned like Cyrus'. Unlike him, however, the man was crueler beyond anything he'd ever heard of or read in fiction. A spectrum Cyrus could never have fathomed existed.
"Any problems?" he asked, setting the phone down and returning to his meal.
"No,"
Chewing. Quiet enough to be polite but loud enough to be horrendously irritating.
The man swallowed the mouthful down.
"Everything was done as instructed?"
"Yes,"
Another piece of food went into his mouth. Cyrus took a breath. Waited.
"Good,"
As always, he made Cyrus wait. It made his skin crawl listening to the chewing, especially in a dead silent room. He watched from where he was, fuming. He hated the way the guy chewed, the way he sat in this lighting, the way he smirked at everything like was a game.
Three minutes later, he wiped his mouth and looked up as he pushed the unfinished plate of food away; a waiter appeared and swept it away immediately, plate and man disappear through a door at the back of the room that led to the kitchen.
"Take him to see her," he instructed one of the many security men he had waiting around in the dining room. "Then bring him back here,"
Cyrus straightened and abruptly turned to follow the man from the room. He knew where to go off by heart; out into the hallway, up the main staircase, across the landing and down the hallway to the third room on the left. He'd made this trip five times in the last two months, each time it pained him as much as it relieved him. Once upstairs the suit unlocked the door and shoved it open, he checked inside the room for a moment then backed out and let Cyrus enter.
Inside were three girls, Jennifer, Alice, and Anjelica. He went straight to Jennifer who was on her feet in an instant and had her arms wrapped around his neck. He held her tightly against him, she gripped him equally hard, her nails digging into his sides as she sobbed into his shoulder, her legs went weak and the two of them sunk to the floor so they knelt in front of one another. The other girls kept well away to the other side of the room. All of them were here for the same reason Jennifer was.
"You killed again?" she whispered hoarsely. Cyrus nodded into her neck.
"I had to,"
"They're never going to let me go, you know that," she told him.
He nodded again.
"Caleb has you wrapped around his finger,"
"I know," he breathed. "But there is no way I'm letting him hurt you,"
"It's destroying you, doing this,"
"I can't do anything else,"
"You can't keep doing this,"
"I have to,"
He pulled away. She felt guilty that people were dying so she could live and hated that Cyrus was now a murderer… Worse, he was broken. The pain of claiming innocent lives was clashing with the thought of losing her. It was too much for him, Cyrus was a gentle character, soft-spoken and kind and shy, but every time she saw him a piece of him was lost. Ripped from him. He was starting to scare her. He cried less and less with each visit, this time he'd barely shed a tear.
"You still have a choice, you know," she whispered.
"Maybe," his shoulders barely lifted with his shrug. "If that's the case then I'm choosing to kill for you,"
Jennifer bawled, covered her mouth and slumped onto her heels.
Cyrus got to his feet.
"Take care of yourself out there," she barely managed to get out.
He nodded. Ever since his first job he'd been trying to figure out how to get her free but there was nothing he could do. Caleb had people watching Afterlife, their home, he'd know if Cyrus said anything and the moment he did, Jennifer would die.
"See you soon," He kissed her forehead then left. Keeping is short was better. It wouldn't soften the blow if she was killed, but it made the immediate pain more bearable. Knowing she was okay was getting him through but still at a great cost.
The guard escorted him back downstairs and into the dining hall. Caleb was still there, though he was stood over by his drinks cabinet with a whiskey in his hand.
"You're welcome," he said.
Cyrus' nose curled and he clenched his jaw. Said nothing. Caleb continued.
"New job," he came to the table and set his drink down.
"Already?"
"Yes," his voice was soft for some reason. It made Cyrus uneasy.
"Afterlife will get suspicious," Cyrus told him, folding his arms.
"Just listen," His voice harsh suddenly.
Cyrus chewed on his tongue for a moment, cocked his head to the side.
"Good," Caleb picked his drink up again. "I need to give you the task now because I'm expecting visitors around in the near future, by that I mean tonight, they'll be staying a while which means you and I cannot be seen together for some time."
"Okay."
"The job is simple… I need you to kill my son,"
Cyrus blinked, a frown invading his face.
"I can see your wheels turning, let me make it clear, my son is no good to me, too much like his mother, weak and groveling, I can't have that, not in this line of work,"
That was cold.
Cyrus knew he wouldn't enjoy this job either, even if it was Caleb's own son.
"Deal with him… kindly. He is still my son after all,"
Cyrus tried piecing together why this was Caleb's next step. It came to him a few seconds later. Caleb must've already figured out that either government agencies or local crime services had already linked the affected companies together. That meant he knew they'd be calling to inform him he was a possible target and that they'd be providing protection to him and his family at all times. Cyrus killing his son would take attention away from Caleb's plans by making him a victim.
"There will be a security detail with him when you do… So, deal with them as you please,"
"Security?"
"Is that a problem?"
A pause. "No,"
"Good. Another thing, this has to happen tomorrow, two in the afternoon when my son is on his way back from school,"
"During the day?"
"Is that a problem?"
Another pause. "No,"
"I don't need to remind you as to what'll happen if you fail,"
"No. You don't," came the muttered reply.
It hadn't been a question, but Cyrus clarified he didn't want any harm coming to Jennifer anyway. If there was any other way to not kill again, he'd have taken it in a heartbeat.
"Good."
Caleb turned away from him.
"The cell phone," Cyrus pointed at the device still lying on the table. Caleb regarded it for a moment then shook his head.
"I think I'll know as to whether or not you do your job,"
