Chapter 2: Lining up the Pieces

The desk was hand carved mahogany and belonged to another time, when craftsmen took their time and worked for love first and money second. The blonde haired man sitting at the desk had lived through those times, and sometimes he missed them. Today was not one of those days. Kenneth Irons was looking toward the future, planning to secure his position in the ages to come.

Toward that end, several dossiers lay neatly across his desk. Dr. Immo had warned him that while uterine replicators worked in a pinch, they had proved in previous experiments to be inferior to the real thing. It would be best if Irons Junior could be transferred to a human host once the cells had demonstrated consistent mitosis. The results of the search that had been conducted for the perfect surrogate mother lay before him.

Kenneth had found reason to reject each woman, for he already had a womb in mind, so to speak. Sara Pezzini might not be the Wielder any more, but the characteristics that had drawn the Blade to her drew him as well. As they had drawn him to Elizabeth Bronte...

Ah, how he had loved her. It had not been his intent to do so, yet it had happened just the same. For a man who planned his every action, his feelings for the American spy had caught him quite by surprise. Elizabeth had taught him to love, had brightened his cold and analytical world with her fierce and passionate soul.

While Sara was not quite the woman he had loved, as Irons had come to regretfully understand, she was as close as it was possible to get. He had been overly forward when they had met, finding it hard not to react to that achingly familiar face as he had Elizabeth. It had been a tactical error, for he had offended the detective and put her on her guard.

Now he had a chance to change Sara's earlier impression by blaming his behavior on the hold the Witchblade had over him. She had seen how Boucher's errand boy, Sandsman, had behaved. Irons had led Pezzini to believe that it was only his strength of will that had kept him from behaving in the same fashion. His roundabout explanation even had a shred of truth in it, as all the excellent falsehoods often did. After all, the Witchblade had certainly orchestrated a great deal of his life.

He and Elizabeth had not been blessed with children during their time together, although he had certainly tried to talk her into it. For him it had been another path toward immortality, a way to pass his genes along to the next generation should anything happen to him. Elizabeth had thought having a child in a war zone was irresponsible at best, and dangerous at worst.

On this one subject Kenneth could never change her mind. Perhaps it had been the Witchblade, not wanting to share its Wielder with another. Whatever it had been, here was his chance to see that dynastic dream realized at last.

The timing couldn't be better. Sara had been brutally attacked in her own home, and was alive only because of his intervention, in the form of his servant Nottingham. He also was in a position to know that Dante wanted Pezzini out of his hair, and Irons had made it clear to the Captain that he was no longer inclined to object. Sara was vulnerable, she owed him, and she was about to lose her job. It would take very little to push her into his arms, and without the Witchblade to consider, he would be able to bring certain pressures to bear that he had thus far refrained from using.

Once Sara had been removed from the Force, he would have Nottingham see to it that the rest of the late Detective Pezzini's effects found their way into her possession. That should further drive the wedge between Sara and the police department.

Pezzini tended to be obsessed with her vision of justice. Once she found out how high the corruption went, she would cheerfully accept any bargain that would give her the ability to bring the ones responsible for her father's death down. After all, she had already sacrificed her partner in pursuit of Gallo, and he had simply been the triggerman. What else would she give to bring to justice the ones who had given the orders?

Kenneth leaned back in his leather chair and smiled. What indeed?

Fortunately he had already laid a certain amount of groundwork for this plan. Ever one to keep his options open, Irons had visited Sara in the hospital on several occasions. He had offered his condolences and let the lovely detective know that she still had a powerful friend. He had intimated that she could come to him for anything, should she have the need.

Sara had been suspicious of his intentions at first, how could she not? Pezzini could hardly have achieved her current rank without a healthy amount of disbelief, and they had not exactly been allies before. Yet when he held up his now bare hand and thanked her for freeing him from the control of the Witchblade, she seemed to soften slightly. Their conversations had been more amiable after that.

Their mutual experiences being manipulated by the enchanted weapon gave them common ground that Irons was not above exploiting. Who knew? He might have to replace Dante someday, and Pezzini could slide into the aggressive Italian's place...with his help of course.

Irons had only entertained such an idea, looking ahead as was his nature, lining up another pawn to be played or held in reserve as the situation warranted. He was pleased that his foresight had been so swiftly rewarded, for now it would be even easier to bring Sara to his side.

"Ian, clear tomorrow afternoon's schedule. I believe I shall pay another visit to Detective Pezzini. After such a traumatic incident one wishes the comfort of friends," Irons gave his trademark half-smirk, emphasizing the layers of innuendo in his statements.

"Yes sir." Ian lowered his head in obedience, glad for once for the stray locks that fell over his eyes when he did it, for the curtain of hair hid the mixture of fear, confusion, and fury that surely passed across his face.

What did Irons want with Sara now? She no longer wore the Witchblade. Why did he continue to focus on her? Why couldn't he leave them alone? Ian felt his guts twist as his anger fought the conditioning that made him meekly leave the room to carry out his orders.

Nottingham could only hope that tonight Sara would be awake during his visit. He longed to hear her voice again, to see her beautiful green eyes staring up at him. Most of all he needed for her to listen, for there were plans being put into motion that did not have her best interest at heart.

A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews. Thelma, Sara's wounds are from Carmelita. It's been about a week since the end of Tango.