Chapter 12:
He had spent the last few days in his car. He was tired but he did not complain. Yesterday he was called after the organization's meeting. One of the members was kind enough to offer him a room in his luxurious hotel. It was another way to say thank you he supposed.
Like they ever thanked him for anything.
He never questioned the organization. He was only their pawn. They had power, authority and money. If he made any mistakes, he would be removed.
He set the tripod up slowly.
He never respected any of the members including the Chairman. Why should he? All he was keen on was his pay. That was it. The current problem was caused by one member's mistake.
He was the dumbest among them all Frank thought. He was clumsy and problematic. Devereux might be a pompous ass but at least that man was smart. This member, he was just pathetic.
And all these were his fault.
It was peculiar why the organization had not removed him.
After the death of the Chairman's adopted son, Philip, he had elected Devereux to take over Philip's place. Devereux did certainly make him proud. The Chairman's son was another useless man in the organization, Frank thought.
Philip was a man who had his pants down most of the time. Not because he needed to pee or anything of the sort. Just that he was so bloody active down there, he might as well have his pants down all the time.
Frank was disgusted of Philip and he was secretly pleased when the Chairman had decided to give his boy a good lesson. Clíona certainly gave him a good time before she ripped his testicles off.
Oh what joy! Frank could almost hear the angels sing!
But of course, without his precious sacs, Philip decided that he was better of dead. He was no longer a man – Frank never thought him as a man at all. The Chairman was not sorry to see him dead. Instead, he was please. Like Frank.
Devereux was smart. Too smart in Frank's opinion. He seemed to be only keen to win and that was about it. That young man would always be scheming. Frank did not like him. There was something about this man that he could not explain. But that man deserved credit, he had made Markov into such a great company. Much better than that useless Philip.
Well at least his job got slightly easier with Devereux intervening. He would no longer to follow that detective. The fellow Thornton hardy seemed to sleep and he hardly stayed in one place. He would always be on the move. From one cheap hotel to a rundown apartment. That guy was unbelievable.
Frank switched the television on and helped himself to some gin before he assembled the equipments. He was an old man. Had seen too much of life and he was only waiting for his time to come. But the organization would not let this man rest.
Frank used to be among the best in his field but he was now replaced by the younger generations. They were faster and bolder. Still, he never complained about his job. He was fine and definitely not haughty and selective like the younger ones.
But he would not be here if it was not the mistake he did years back. He was humiliated about it. He would have killed himself due to the shame and dishonour but he snapped out of it fast enough. Unlike the others. He continued on and here he was.
Frank sighed as he rubbed his rough leathery hands together.
The organization had decided.
He gazed into his eyepiece, studying the young blond named Ryan Evans. Subject was busy with his laptop. As usual.
Frank yawned. That was so interesting.
Hold on.
He twisted the knob, focusing on the figure next to Ryan Evans.
"Well, hello there…"
The Chairman would be please to hear that Troy Bolton was now with Ryan Evans. What did they used to say about killing birds? Ah, kill two birds with one stone.
This would be an easy mission for Abaddon.
Ryan Evans came out from the shower, scenting like honey and melon. He noted that it was quite difficult for Troy Bolton to sit still as he emerged from the bathroom in his ivory bathrobe.
It was none of his business.
He made his way to the kitchen counter and helped himself to a can of beer. He had made Bolton close all the curtains when he was about to take a bath. Bolton did what he was told grudgingly. He loved the sunshine but thankfully the curtains were thin, light and diaphanous.
Bolton turned round and saw Ryan sipping his beer leaning nonchalantly against the counter, wet and smelling dangerously sweet. Ryan turned and for the first time, Bolton saw the ice blue eyes behind the platinum lashes.
It was like an invitation.
Ryan on the other hand, felt nothing. The blond fixed his cool gaze on Bolton while he wondered about what to wear to the dinner. He kept his face clear and his eyes were pretty glassy after the crash, so they were bound not to sell a thing he was feeling or thinking.
"You are not going to Sharpay's dinner looking like that," Ryan stated as he registered the light stubble on Bolton's tanned cheeks.
Bolton shifted his attention away from Ryan. It was difficult. Beads of water dripped down his platinum blond hair and fine rivulets ran down the fair collarbone. "I'm not going," Bolton said, turning away.
"That's funny. Shar told me you are. And…" Ryan crushed the empty beer can before he continued, "she always get what she wants."
"I'm busy. I have to review a few reports," Bolton replied smoothly.
Ryan studied Bolton for a few minutes. He could tell easily that the brunet was lying. "I never know a static company has so many reports to be written and reviewed and approved, especially when they are from the marketing department."
Success.
Bolton stopped pretending to be busy with his laptop. He turned and casted Ryan a troubled stare. "I can't go. Gabriella might be there."
"Since when are you a coward?" Ryan asked, brushing his hair lightly with his fingers.
"I am not!"
"Yes you are."
"I'm no going to argue with you."
"Smart choice. Because you know well you are going to lose. So what if Gabriella is there? You think she dares ruin another lady's happiness with her depressing news and frantic behaviour? She and Sharpay ain't exactly close to start with. Just nodding, waving and perhaps shopping acquaintances," Evans answered.
Ryan observed Bolton's face.
"You promised my sister. You better keep your words," Ryan warned, moving away from the counter.
"I did not even have a song to sing for her guest," Bolton argued, eyes widened as he noted the blond heading toward him.
"Looks like we'll be doing a duet," Ryan said with a smirk, grabbing hold of Bolton's shirt.
"What are you doing?" Troy gulped, gazing straight into those mesmerizing eyes. The scent of Ryan's shampoo stronger as the blond pulled him closer.
"Oh nothing," Ryan smiled and with amazing strength he dragged Bolton up from the seat.
"What are you doing?" Bolton snapped, gripping Ryan's wrist.
"Dragging you to the bathroom, Bolton. You're taking a bath you foul smelling ape," Ryan answered, the same annoying smirk on his lips.
"No," Troy replied haughtily.
"Really?" Ryan smirked and a soft click was heard.
Bolton froze as he felt the cool slick metal pressing against his abdomen. "You wouldn't dare…"
"Wanna bet?" Ryan hissed softly into Bolton's ears.
"I'm going to have a quick shower," Bolton mumbled, feeling Ryan withdrawing his revolver away. Did he bring that thing into the shower, Troy Bolton thought.
"Move it."
"I am moving!"
"Have a nice warm bath darling."
Bolton halted, turned round and stared. Did Ryan just call him darling? But Ryan Evans did not face him; instead the blond was just helping himself to his second can of beer.
Troy Bolton averted his gaze and continued his way to the bathroom. He prayed that Ryan Evans would be so drunk that he was unable to attend his beloved sister's party.
"Don't forget to shave!"
Troy growled, slamming the bathroom door.
Ryan sipped his bear as he wondered what he should wear to his sister little dinner.
Thornton screwed his face as he listened to Loki. He was not pleased to hear what Loki had in mind. Thornton was in fact disgusted.
"No. Absolutely out of the question," Thornton growled, flicking the cigarette ashes.
"Look, Evans said that Bolton might be in danger too. Haven't I told you that there's likeliness they target Bolton as well?" Loki stated while winding down the window.
"So? And did I just hear a 'they'?" Thornton asked. "You agree to my theory than?"
"Nothing's a theory till they are proven correct. I just agree to your hypothesis. That's all."
"What made you agree to my hypothesis then?"
"You were being followed when we met up two or three days ago," Loki answered. He helped himself to Thornton's sandwich.
"What? Devereux?"
"No. Someone that you have never met in your life. Frank."
"You know him?"
"No. He was in the service way before me. He screwed up pretty bad from what Garrett told me. He and his men killed two innocent men. Garrett went to check on him years back. I followed but he insisted I remained in the car."
"Is he still following me?"
"No. I think he is asked to switch target."
"You mean he is after Ryan?"
"Stalking."
"So who's tailing me?"
"No one," Loki replied while he helped himself to the detective's coffee.
Thornton kept quiet. His eyes narrowed. "What is going on…"
"Go ask Devereux," Loki suggested as he wiped his mouth with a serviette.
"I told you before. No," Thornton replied.
"That man can provide you vital information. All he asked is some details. Give it to him."
"Are you out of your mind?"
Loki stared at Thornton. "David, did it ever come across your mind why did he even offer you his help?"
"He wanted info!"
"Info that he can easily get? Devereux is the type of guy who schemes in the shadow. He's the sort of guy who's neither good nor bad. He has something in mind. Don't you find it odd? His offer I mean."
Thornton kept quiet. Loki did have a point. A man like Devereux was always full of surprises. He was neither good nor bad….but mostly bad. Rotten would be the best adjective to term that man. He cared for no one but himself.
Devereux was an enigmatic person.
What was his purpose of offering help to Thornton? Why did he even go down the police headquarters personally when he could have asked someone to do it for him? What was the purpose of him meeting Ryan? What did he mean by: You still think I am fully responsible behind the crash?
"Will you do as I say?" Loki asked with a smile.
"I'll think about it," Thornton muttered darkly while Loki climbed out from the car.
"Well I'll think about the protection thing. I have something to settle." Loki flashed a smile and walked off.
Thornton exhaled a sigh and reached for his styrofoam cup. He felt tired. His investigation had led to a dead end. Maybe what Loki said was true.
He needed Devereux help.
He lifted the cup to his lips and to his surprise it was empty.
"Done?" Ryan asked when he came out from his room. He was wearing his new Armani suit, the latest in the fashion. A pale grey suit, made to fit and show his slender figure that matched well with his silk shirt.
Bolton cast Ryan a glare and answered politely, "Yes."
Ryan studied the brunet disapprovingly. Troy Bolton was wearing his good jeans and a fine navy coat. Inside that coat, the man wore a white shirt, the first three buttons unbuttoned.
Ryan did not like the jeans but decided best not to comment. As long as the brunet looked presentable he was fine with anything.
"Good. Let's get going. We're supposed to help Shar with the guest," Ryan said, heading toward the door.
"We?" Troy asked. He was a few steps behind Ryan.
"Yes. You heard me right. We."
"She asked you, not me."
"You are living here for free, Bolton. I'm asking only a little from you."
Troy Bolton grumbled and he noted the blond picking up his car key. Without turning, the blond threw the key to him.
"What's this for?" Troy asked.
"You're now my chauffeur. Get use to it," Ryan smirked.
He was a quiet man. He sipped his red wine, enjoying the smooth texture of the fine liquor. In his passport and papers, he was Isidor Lavrenti, age thirty two. He was a handsome gentleman with a body of a dancer – slim and fit. He has short black hair and fluent in English.
Isidor's black eyes were fierce. They were the eyes of a hunter – sharp and cunning. Those eyes seemed to have seen too much for a man of his age. They held wisdom and yet there was emptiness in them.
The air hostess came up to him and asked him if there was anything he needed.
He shook his head gently.
With a smile the lady left.
He enjoyed the silence and the service of a first class flight. He was a man who enjoyed being alone. Isidor Lavrenti had spent the rest of his childhood wandering in streets, stealing and fighting. The man had no family. He fought for himself. Self preservation was the highest law.
Those cold black eyes studied the red sky outside his window. The flight was delayed for two hours and forty five minutes. Time was precious to Isidor but he did not complain. There was no need to lose his temper over such petty things.
Time was always on Isidor Lavrenti's side.
Author: Frank, Abaddon and Isidor Lavrenti. Abaddon is a man who will live up to the name/callsign. Isidor Lavrenti. Got a nice ring to it. Will be seeing him from here onwards...Who is he actually?...Not hard to guess I think.... Garrett did a research on Frank. Garrett was always on the right track. He did tons of research and investigation.