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I got to thinking - that usually a sequence like this would be thrown into a much larger chapter and get a bit lost in it. So, in a bid to get chapter sizes under control I'll try separating things out a little.

It also struck me to try and cut the wordiness a little - and move a bit quicker. Juuuuust to get the story to snap a bit more.

We'll see. I might end up hating it. Let me know if you think this works.

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*21*

The Demon's Rage

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William Cortez Raged and stalked the room like a black panther on the hunt. As if piped straight from Satan's hellish domain, pure unbridled anger spilled from his being like a black waterfall. His black, close-cropped hair was now shot through with grey at the temples, his weathered face even more lined, and his grip on sanity falling away like the sands of time through an hourglass. His stolen Inca technology now too incomplete to keep the ravages of time from his body for more than a few weeks.

"Her fucking father owns a fishing trawler!" Cortez spat. He rounded on Elissa and Muffai, who stood before him, and shot out an accusatory finger on a trembling arm. "And where!"- he vented, balling the hand into an enraged fist -"does that shitheap often go fishing?"

Nobody spoke.

"Answer m-"

"The North Atlantic," spoke a calm, feminine voice before Cortez could finish. "A hundred clicks or so North of the Azores island chain."

Cortez looked past the two sources of his disgust toward the woman who'd spoken. She stood quietly toward the back of the room, her fire-red hair gently gleaming under the glow of the downlights. He did not answer immediately; but took two paces toward his desk, scooped up his Smith and Wesson Model 500 revolver, and tapped the gun's lengthy barrel pensively against his chin. His eyes narrowed. "Just so," he said slowly. "Your little friend tell you that?" Cortez asked.

Sunset remained motionless, yet her voice was silky smooth. "Yes," she answered simply.

Cortez leaned over his desk and pushed an old-style intercom button, and said, "Send in Gareth Denn." He straightened, and paced back and forth for the several minutes it took for footsteps to be heard in the corridor outside his office, stopping only when the large oaken double doors silently swung inward.

Gareth entered, sporting his usual flower pattern aloha shirt and simple khaki shorts. He flashed a brief glance toward Sunset, but her set expression did not change. It told him volumes. It told him to be careful.

"Mr Denn," said Cortez in low but unreadable tones. "Please come stand with my compatriots." Cortez motioned to the silent Muffai and the brooding Elissa.

Gareth could not help but notice the clear plastic underfoot as he stood where asked.

"Where is the Sahain shitheap?" Cortez asked icily.

Gareth answered succinctly, noting the large pistol Cortez gestured with. "Still tracking with the storm. They entered it - and have not yet come out."

"You know this how?"

"Military thermal imaging satellite," Gareth explained. "I borrowed it. That storm is a big one, but I coded a routine to track them."

Cortez regarded him coolly. "Clever," he said. Cortez then turned to Sunset, his expression hardening to granite. "Isn't your boyfriend clever?" he asked her.

Sunset had known it was coming, and she looked toward Cortez helplessly. "Yes," she whispered.

"What?" Cortez asked mockingly. He moved the gun barrel to his right ear.

"Yes," said Sunset a little more loudly.

Cortez nodded and returned to pacing back and forth. "Although," he said eventually - to nobody in particular, "He isn't, is he?"

All in the room were silent.

"Muffai?" Cortez asked, with an almost teacher-like tone.

Muffai stood plainly, hands relaxed at his sides, yet he was ready. He knew what was coming. "No."

"Elissa?" asked Cortez, briefly turning to regard her.

Elissa's face took on a subtle smirk; she knew what was coming too. "No."

Cortez gave a theatrical sigh, waving the gun before him. "I don't know what to do," he said, as if asking it of the heavens. "I tried so hard." He looked down at the floor.

Suddenly he turned to face them all and waved them off with the gun. "You can all go - and think about what you've done; about the shit I have to put up with!"

Muffai and Elissa turned to leave with well-oiled deference. Gareth looked perplexed; but turned to follow suit. Sunset did not move at all; she looked to Cortez in disbelief. Her face was white.

"Oh Gareth!" Cortez called out - almost jovially - just as Gareth had turned away. Gareth turned back.

"Ye-" But the words died instantly.

A single gunshot boomed, and smoke rose from Cortez gun barrel to pool around a light on the ceiling. Gareth slumped onto the plastic sheeting, blood quickly pooling from the clean gunshot to his forehead.

Sunset rushed to kneel at Gareth's side. She placed her fine boned hands on his cheeks, and then ran them through his blood-soaked hair. He was dead. Killed instantly.

"Get away from that filth!" Cortez sneered at her in a gutteral rage. "He tried to take what was mine!" he yelled. Cortez seethed and shook. "Mine!" he yelled again, sweeping the pistol's barrel across all in the room.

Sunset looked up at him with a single tear in her eye. She trembled with hate, but there was nothing she could do, not unless she too wanted to die here. The massive pistol then became entrained on her.

"Away," Cortez commanded, quickly indicating the doorway with the pistol.

Sunset rose. Her long legs appearing tight with adrenalized rage, her scant red minidress doing little to enfold them. Her laced torso expanded with a deep breath, and she began to back away.

"Oh hush now," Cortez soothed with a razorblade voice. "I couldn't let him put his hands on you anymore," he growled with a calm authoritative madness. Then he yelled, "You belong to me!"

Elissa and Muffai had halted their journey toward the door with the gunshot. They had known they weren't really being dismissed.

Cortez calmly stepped over Gareth's Body and motioned toward a fireplace with plush couches in front of it. "I'm sorry about that unpleasantness," he said cordially, "but now there's business to attend. Let's take a seat."

Cortez strode to the fireplace and sat without looking up. Elissa and Muffai took up well known places, sorted out many moons past. Sunset, reviled, sat on an armrest as far away as she could get from the three of them. She sat silently, her world fast entering a dark twilight zone.

"That bitch survived Muffai," said Cortez, his low-down growl returning. "Why else would the Sahain trawler head into the storm?"

"No other reason Amigo," agreed Muffai carefully. He knew the error was his; He'd pronounced Lara dead. Recompense was coming. "They wanted to disappear."

"Indeed," Cortez replied stonily. Reaching to the armrest of the couch in which he sat, he pushed another intercom button on a built-in array of controls. "Captain Ericsson, respond."

After a short wait, a voice came back. "Captain Ericsson with a copy. What are your orders sir?"

"Is the Dominator ready to sail captain?"

"Yes sir! Ready when you give the word." The reply was crisp and assured.

"Excellent," said Cortez. "You'll leave within the hour. Prepare to receive three guests. The lady in red will be your commander. Is that clear?" Cortez, flicked a flintlike gaze at Muffai and Elissa as he said the words, making it clear the orders were to be heeded by them as well.

"Yes Sir!" Ericsson affirmed through the intercom. "The orders are clear. Lady Sunset will command the mission. Standing by to receive all operation personnel."

Muffai and Elissa shared a brief what-the-hell glance, but dared not say a word.

Cortez levelled a stern gaze upon the three seated before him. "I'm close to deciphering where Scholar Capac went after he sailed from the Amazon," he revealed. "But a few key details still elude me." He sighed, and again used the Model 500's gun barrel to point at each person in turn. "That fiasco at our base in the Amazon means that Lara must surely know it is where Capac's journey began."

"She drove straight past the old waterfall," ventured Muffai. "I saw her studying it. She definitely knows."

Cortez voice descended into that of an underworld demon, and he nodded. "I want her dead body bought to me," he ordered. "Shot, beheaded, torn in half; whatever you have to do to end her. No mistakes. She dies, or the three of you do. Don't return here until she's within the dire torment of Hell! Understood?"

Muffai nodded. "Yes."

Elissa nodded. "Yes."

Sunset nodded. "Yes," she said resignedly.

Cortez voice rose into a barely controlled keening rage. "Chase down that shitheap trawler and send it to the bottom of the ocean! That bitch has meddled with me for the last time!"

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