Young Offender, Part 61:
[1980]
Ann gasped and jolted awake. She flung her blankets off and ran down the hall. "Mama Erika!"
She didn't bother knocking on the Gamos' bedroom door. Ann flung it open in time to see Erika bolt upright on her bed, eyes glowing a bright amethyst, and then collapse back beside Doctor Gamo. Her eyes dimmed as her head flopped to the side.
"Mama Erika! Papa Fyodr!" She walked over, starting to tremble. She extended her telepathy to find that they had just died. Her hands covered her mouth as she sank to her knees.
After several minutes she rose to her feet, tears trickling down her cheeks. She suddenly rushed to the front door of their Ghost Island apartment; she found the emergency alert panel and pushed the alarm button. Red lights flared and a klaxon blared as she sank to the floor and sobbed. She didn't even register the guards running into the apartment.
She sat, inconsolable, in the lobby of the hospital wing. She was grateful no one was around; she wasn't controlling her empathy as tightly as she should. Mama Erika would be terribly disappointed, but she didn't care at that moment.
Over the years, the Gamos had become the only parents she knew. They cared for her, trained her, and praised her accomplishments. She had embraced Erika as her mentor after Ivan had abandoned her, and Erika had trained her well. Erika helped cultivate her natural talent towards empathy, and once she gave up the idea of escape, her abilities grew and her life became more comfortable.
She straightened up in the stiff chair when Doctor Uranus came in with slumped shoulders. He sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, remembering Papa Fyodr's stern warning to her to never be in a room alone with this particular Greek scientist.
"I'm so sorry, my dear. Fyodr had a sudden heart attack and Erika's ESP picked up on the event. Her empathy gave her a sympathetic heart attack."
She stood from her chair and nodded. "I figured that already. Empathy is one of the most dismissed gifts, but it can be powerful when focused."
"Yes, well... Scar wants you to meet with him."
"Now, Doctor?" She asked, smoothing the front of her gray skirt.
"Of course. I'll escort you," Uranus offered.
"No!" She glared at him. "I'll go alone."
With that, she fled the hospital wing and made her way to Scar's throne room. The two guards stood aside, obviously expecting her. She clenched her hands together and averted her eyes; she entered demurely as she had been taught. She curtsied and waited to be addressed.
"My sympathies, young mistress Ember." Scar's cold voice sent a chill down her spine, but she regained her emotional control. "The Gamos will be missed."
"Thank you, Highness."
"Now, you will be expected to step up into Mrs Gamo's role. She's trained you well, and I believe you are ready to embrace this new responsibility. You will now swear allegiance to the Black Ghost and become an official member."
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. There were distant memories of losing her original parents, however those were foggy. Mama Erika said it was the first generation Double Zero Cyborgs' fault. She accepted that and now passionately desired revenge against them. Nothing burned hotter in her heart than to prove she could beat Ivan in a fight. Becoming a Black Ghost member would be the way to get that revenge. She didn't need Ivan any longer to rescue her.
She dropped down to her knees and lowered her head. This was the moment Mama Erika had wanted for her, to be inducted into the Black Ghost, but it seemed all too soon. She pushed her hesitation aside, but there was still a nagging instinct to run far away from Scar.
"You will swear fidelity to the Black Ghost until death by an enemy's hand or ours?"
"I swear," she replied numbly.
"Good. You now inherit all the Gamos' possessions and apartment. I'll give you three days to get things in order. After that, you'll report to me for your orders."
She rose slowly and nodded, still not willing to meet Scar's large, red eyes. "Yes, sir. It was Mama Erika's wish that I serve you. Have no doubts about my loyalty."
Ryu Kitagawa checked his watch, getting more irritated with the delayed plane coming in from Los Angeles. A soft, female voice came over the loud speaker, announcing the arrival. He stood up and went to the concourse. People started streaming out from deplaning, and, finally, Akira Shimamura was among them.
"Ryu!" he shouted and jogged over to his older cousin. Ryu wasn't pleased by his cousin's lax manners, but he forced a smile and shook the young man's hand. This was a habit picked up in America.
"It's nice to finally see you again. Let's go get some dinner," Ryu suggested in Japanese. Akira cocked his head as if he didn't understand.
"Dinner? Okay." Akira finally replied. Ryu started wondering if his mother had made a mistake letting him go to a boarding school in Bangor, Maine.
Ryu took his cousin to a posh restaurant and settled in. After they had had their dinner, Akira ventured into territory Ryu wasn't prepared for. "So, Aunt Hitomi's gala is on Friday?"
"Yes," he snapped. "It's a fund-raiser for three charities that'll benefit orphans, and we're hoping for a record for the funds raised this year."
"It's a shame she passed away two years ago. Her legend is large in Hollywood," Akira said. "I loved the times I got to visit California."
Ryu didn't need to be reminded of his mother's quick demise from a brain tumor or all the press surrounding the funeral. At the funeral, the spotlight was directed suddenly at Ryu, who was ill-prepared for the role, in spite of inheriting his mother's looks and shrewdness. He was even approached by one of her former directors about becoming an actor.
He declined, citing that he now had to finish raising Akira and oversee the Shimamura Electronics Company. SEC was becoming a real powerhouse in the world and this only made Ryu worry more about involving Akira in any of the business dealings. Akira was still young and too adventurous.
It was hard being thrust into so much of the family business at the age of twenty-five. His mother, though, had given him enough Merchant of Death connections to help smooth some of the transition. The real focus for Ryu was developing his personal relationships in the Merchants of Death, so that one day he could take revenge against the Double Zero Cyborgs for losing his father and his uncle.
He set aside his minor annoyance with Akira at bringing up hard memories of his mother and broached the subject uppermost on his mind concerning his cousin. "Now that you've graduated, it's time for you to consider college. I'd like to send you to Tokyo University after the summer."
Akira frowned a little and said, "I'm not really sure I'd like to pursue college. I have other things I'd like to do."
"Like racing?" Ryu easily guessed. Akira grew chagrined. "It's a hobby you did with my blessing."
"Yes, and I have a great shot at making it a career. There is a chance for me to go to Monaco for a qualifying drive next month."
Ryu contemplated this turn of events and realized why his mother had sent Akira to America; it was a wise move. He was bound to find some some vice or entertainment to distract him from the company's business he was due to inherit seven years from now. It'd only make takeing everything away from Akira too easy for Ryu.
"Well, I'm certainly willing to let you go to Monaco. It's lovely this time of year," Ryu said deciding to continue his mother's plans on his behalf. After all, Ryu had too much to deal with working on his status with the Black Ghost.
"Really?" Akira sputtered, giving Ryu a wide-eyed look of happiness. He waved off Akira's disbelief. "But Aunt Hitomi probably wouldn't have approved."
"Well, you're still young, and I want you to enjoy it while you can. Now is the time for that. You still have several years before you have to think about your inheritance."
"But you haven't had time to enjoy being young. You had to take on so much responsibility on my behalf." Akira's guilty slump of the shoulders didn't penetrate Ryu's stone heart.
"Please! Trust me." Ryu flashed one of his false smiles he'd inherited from his mother. "I'd love to live vicariously through you. You would be doing me a favor by pursuing your dreams. Go ahead and take the same risk my mother did breaking into the film industry. She'd be proud."
"Seriously? You're giving me your blessing?"
"Certainly," he answered, before finishing off his tart red wine.
"But why? I don't understand. I thought you or Aunt Hitomi would want me to come and learn the business."
"If you're not interested, you wouldn't be an asset. Besides you have your whole life ahead of you. Pursue what you desire."
"Cousin, I can't thank you enough," Akira said breathlessly as Ryu motioned for more wine.
"Your gratitude is thanks enough," he said, once again marveling how easy manipulation was.
He'd have to talk to his lawyers tomorrow about subtle strategies for gaining more control over Akira's inheritance. Since Akira was grateful, he'd probably sign anything Ryu waved under his nose.
Ryu settled back in his chair as he sipped his refreshed glass of wine. He indulged Akira's rambling, but picked up on something that disturbed him slightly. His cousin talked of an American girl named Julie Croft that he'd taken out a few times. Akira broached the subject of taking her to Monaco with him, in a very demure and nervous way.
"An American girl? I'm not pleased, but take her with you if you'd like. Just make sure you're careful."
"Careful?" Akira asked, with a blank expression that irritated Ryu.
"We'll talk on the way home," Ryu said sweetly in spite of his urge to snap. After all, it wouldn't do if Akira accidentally got girl pregnant, or worse for Ryu, married her and then produced a legitimate Shimamura heir.
"We have rejected your application to become a Merchant of Death," Scar informed the Dutchman kneeling in his throne room. The man clenched his fist, but Scar assured him, "There is a position of more prominence, since you have brought us more knowledge than we'd hoped. The underground kingdom you've gained control of is impressive."
"Thank you, Lord Scar," Bogart said, choking back his aggravation.
"We want you do something that requires secrecy. If we approve your membership now, spies may let the Double Zero Cyborgs know what we're up too. With you not being associated with us, you can move around the globe and do something vital for us."
Indeed, Van Bogart had opened up new resources and revenue the Black Ghost couldn't ignore, but the man was too powerful to just sit on a board with other Merchants of Death. That's why Scar wanted to get the adventurous man on a project and utilize his skills directly.
"So what would you like me to do?"
"I'd like you to be in charge of hunting down the first generation Double Zero Cyborgs."
"Yes, of course. I'd love revenge! They ruined my ability to use Russian gun dealers out of New York! I'd love to pay them back."
"And you will. But first you'll be recruiting new people for our second generation Double Zero Cyborgs. Bring us four people for surgery. You'll have your revenge through them. Thanks to your influx of money three years ago, we now have the ability to carry forward on four more cyborg designs."
"Excellent! I'll find you the perfect men for this."
"Good! Only this time, make sure they're so indebted to us they can't leave. And that they are all male. We think the female in the group created undue sympathy. Make them believe the center of their world will collapse if they disobey. We simply kidnapped the first generation, and that was a mistake. We must enforce loyalty. Once you get us the recruits for the second generation, we will reconsider your application for membership in the Merchants of Death."
"As you wish, Lord Scar." With that, Van Bogart left the throne room in satisfaction.
He was denied membership, but given the task to hunt down the instruments for his revenge against 004 and his small crew. This was the hunt he'd been craving for years.
Junior let out a deep sigh as he read the formal eviction notice that had arrived in the mail from a judge in Phoenix. It gave him three days to pay the mortgage on the ranch or sign over his half of the ranch to Kyle Cody. Kyle had been lucky a drought happened in Arizona and took its toll on Junior's land. Kyle's tourist business, on the other hand, was booming.
What galled Junior the most was how Kyle and Yazzi Two-Feather had teamed up. Yazzi now had a place to do a dinner show with a built in audience. And to Junior's consternation, the show had gotten more lurid and played up every stereotype about Navajo imaginable. Of course, Yazzi had made Junior a job offer last week when it looked like foreclosure was in the works. Junior still refused to debase himself.
He had done everything he could over the last seven years to make his half of the land a profitable cattle ranch, but too many years of drought had harmed him, and his employees kept getting lured away by Yazzi Two-Feather's show. The money was too good for the Navajo youth to pass up.
He balled up the notice in his giant fist and lowered his head. He didn't want to be a failure at twenty-five, and he certainly wanted to honor the Codys' memory. Junior also felt as if he were failing to keep the land as pristine as possible by not being able to afford a legal challenge against Kyle Cody any longer.
He tried to work out a solution in his head until a knock on the ranch house door. He rose and opened the door. He was surprised to see a stranger standing on his porch. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. He wore a gray suit and was carrying a briefcase. Junior assumed it was another lawyer from Kyle to get him to settle.
"My name is Van Bogart. I'm here to see if I can make you an offer that would not only save this ranch, but buy out Kyle Cody and put you back in charge." The man's strange accent brought up a memory.
Junior had seen this man wandering the streets of Fredonia. He was asking questions about the various people on the street. Junior's financial troubles were well known around the town; that was only pastime: gossiping. That's what brought this man to his door with knowledge.
"Come in. I'll listen, but I'm not sure you can help." Junior got the man coffee and they sat at the chipped up kitchen table. Junior was still leery, but desperate enough to listen to last minute schemes.
"I can make arrangements with the banks to purchase the mortgage on your place. Plus, I've made an offer that Kyle Cody couldn't turn down. He'll sell to you."
Junior was skeptical, because Kyle had been stubborn about his tourist business. Still the offer was temping to just grab. Junior shook his head. "My problem is that I still wouldn't be able to afford converting that hotel back into a ranch. It would be a huge undertaking."
"Yes, I understand and we will sweeten the deal. I'll pay for that as well."
Junior flinched back in his chair and eyed the man. "Why would you offer to help me out like this?"
"Because I need someone of your considerable stature to serve just two years with my organization. You're the perfect person for the job. Besides, it'll take two years to convert it all back to good, ranch land."
"What kind of organization?"
"We do scientific research. You would be guarding scientists and trying to regain some merchandise we lost twenty years ago. Very simple stuff."
"It sounds like a good opportunity."
"Yes! But you still don't sound convinced. Tell you what, that side-show you find so offensive will be gone too. I'll hire all of them to do the work reverting the hotel. Does that sweeten the deal?"
Junior wasn't surprised the man knew so much, because Fredonia was too small of a town. He started nodding his head, liking the idea of all his fellow Navajo having a chance at legitimate work. They could rebuild some respect for themselves.
"I'd like to work for you."
To be continue.