Placing his cell phone back down onto the desk; a man with greying hair gets up and paces about his office. His face expressing disdain for the message he was just given as he looks at his book case converted into a liquor cabinet. Walking over to grab a drink, the men waiting for him in his office look on as he pours himself a drink and downs it all in one gulp.
“Frederick survived the assassination,” the man pouring another drink; “and the FBI are about to go forward with their RICO case.”
“We can deal with him,” a man speaking; “him and the shooter. That will scuttle the feds from shutting us down.”
“Frederick is under guard in a hick town hospital,” the first man speaking; “a town flooded with reporters and federal agents. The shooter,” the man turning around; “is in a lock up in Seattle.”
“Jose,” the second man sighing; “one of our best fixers and he gets pinched by a few local yokels with badges. You want him dealt with as well?”
“He had his chance,” the first man pausing; “plus there are plenty more where he came from. Make sure it can’t be traced backed to us,” the first man turning around.
The second man nods at the first’s order and gets up to leave. Opening the door the third man who has been silence for the whole exchange, quietly sucking on his cigar decides to speak up.
“While we know where Freddie is and Jose are,” the third man putting his cigar down; “we should ensure that all loose ends are tied.”
“What are you implying,” the first man responding; looking at the third who has so fared remain quiet.
“None of this would of happened if it wasn’t for Frederick’s son Daniel getting in trouble as he was heading up to Canada to hide out. If we can’t take out Frederick, then we should send him a message instead.”
“I understand,” the second man nodding; “but won’t that give Frederick incentive to spill the beans on our operation?”
“Both the Parkers,” the first man getting what the third man just suggested; “take care of them both.”
The second man nods once again and leaves the room closing the door behind him; leaving the remaining men to continue their business discussion.
“We should tell Tommy to also deal with Frederick’s bodyguard,” the third man getting up; “what was his name?”
“Chelnik,” the first man head back to his desk; “a former spetsnaz from when the Soviet Union collapsed.”
“We may have to let that man be,” the third picking up his cigar and head to the liquor cabinet to get himself a drink; “a man with that kind of training, you don’t want to trifle with unless you have an army at your back. Wasn’t he with Frederick when the Shark headed to Moon Lake?”
“He was,” the first man responding; “but went missing shortly after.”
“Like the way Frederick’s men went missing,” the third chuckling; recalling the news reports of several known San Francisco criminals found in the Washington state woods either scared out of their mind or dead from wild animal attacks. One thing was clear, they were all naked and had their hands bound with duct tape.
“Chelnik is resourceful,” the first speaking; “plus those that did what they did to Freddie’s men would be dead for trying to pull that on Chelnik.”
“So where the hell is he then,” the third man looking at the first.
*********
Meanwhile somewhere between Seattle and Spokane on an old disused logging road; three men get out of a silver blue van. Stepping into the forested wilderness currently experiencing a rainfall; the men work quickly to remove the cargo in the back of their ride. Grabbing the body bag and easily removing it and the contents with in; the men travel a sort distance to a small gully. Stopping they drop the body bad and open it up. Inside was the corpse of Chelnik; the same former Spetsnaz that was killed by Agent Brooke Reeds on Sunday as she and Samson where on their way to Benton Knight’s residence.
“According to Tora,” one of the men speaking; “the were-virus should now be fully inert from this man’s body. It’s safe to let him be discovered.”
“Provided nature doesn’t claim him first,” the other speaking; “if only that agent didn’t shift when confronting him.”
“From what I heard,” the first tossing Chelnik’s corpse into the gully; “he had the kind of military training that any doomsday survivalist would kill to have. Plus he was strong and fit despite his age. And the scar making him blind in one eye,” the man continuing; “Chelnik was a formidable adversary.”
“But the man was a normal and up against a werewolf,” the second shaking his head; “there was no need to bite and scratch him just to subdue him.”
“That is a conversation between the agent and Tachibana,” the first collecting the body bag; “it’s not our place to question the skulk leader or the elder council.”
“It’s just an unnecessary risk as far as I’m concerned,” the second shaking his head; “the agent could of died and we would be dealing with a rouge were that would of most assuredly revealed our existence to the world.”
“You want to have this debate with Daisuke and Yomato,” the first chucking; “then go right ahead, I just want to get home and catch the rest of Basket Ball game.”
“The third period will be over by the time we get back to Moon Lake,” the second heading back to the van; “the odds of the game going into overtime are remote.”