“It was Henley Maynard,” the man on the ground said. “He asked me—” His eyes shifted toward his dead friend, “—us, to leave traces behind so the Shepard’s would be implicated.”
“He told you to frame your own and you did it?” Whim sneered.
“Most of the group want out anyway,” he explained franticly. “If this worked, it wouldn’t matter if the Shepards went under. We’d be Brumal by then anyway.”
“Henley is one of Kor’s,” Sullivan Void’s voice boomed from the top of the stairs, and they all turned to find him standing there dressed in a three-piece suit. His black hair was slicked back and his skin was its natural golden hue. There was no sign of the IV and aside from a slight shake to his hands as he stood there, he appeared in good health. The epitome of a king purveying his subjects.
Baikal resisted the urge to go up there and insist he sit down. How long had his father needed to prepare to come out here like this? It was an unnecessary display of power, considering it was only them present. His satellite didn’t know about their leader’s illness, but Whim did. There was no one here to impress.
Unless…
“I can handle it,” he gave his back to the prisoner, trying to plead with his father with his eyes alone, certain he’d caught on to his intentions. “There’s no need for you to get your hands dirty.”
“I’m the Dominus,” Sullivan disagreed, starting down the steps toward them. “If an example needs to be made, of course I should be there when it’s done.”
“How can we be sure Henley wasn’t acting on his own?” Whim asked once Sullivan was standing on the step just before the landing. “Kor is a long way from the throne. He’d have to do a complete overthrow, and unless he planned on pinning the attacks on Baikal, I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“They were going to try and make it seem like the Shepards are Baikal’s creation,” Flix replied. “I followed Henley for a couple of hours while the others stayed with the prisoners. These aren’t the only Shepard members he’s met with. It was simple enough to slip a bug on him—He’s a mere foot soldier for a reason.”
“Do you have verbal proof?” Sullivan asked, and when Flix nodded, motioned to him. “Go ahead then, son.”
Flix lifted the black multi-slate attached to his left wrist and clicked a few buttons, searching for the right file. Then he held out his arm and allowed a voice projection to begin playing, the sound waves shown in neon blue holographic displayed a few inches above the device’s screen.
“Move into part two of the plan,” a crisp voice said, and because there was no video to go along with it, Flix had to indicate to them all that it was Henley speaking. “Boss gave us the go-ahead since everything is running smoothly.”
“Not sure I’d say that,” another man argued lightly. “The Prince has taken over the case. If we’re not careful—”
“The Prince has been distracted lately,” Henley snorted. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? He’s gotten himself a little boyfriend and spends all his time shacking it up.”
“I heard he even brought the guy to the estate,” another voice, gruffer than the first two, added.
“Bringing his fuck toy home to meet daddy?” Everyone laughed at that one.
Baikal’s hold on the blaster at his side tightened and then relaxed as he forced himself to calm and keep listening. No matter what they said next, however, they were now destined to die at his hand.
No one talked about Rabbit that way. Period.
“Get your shit together. This seem like a joke to you?” Henley snapped.
There was silence and then the second speaker asked, “Kor really tell you to have us go through with this? Framing the Prince…”
“Yeah, man,” the third person agreed. “We’re already risking our necks, and for what? There’s no guarantee the other group bosses will rally with Kor even if he does expose the Prince for being a traitor. Not to mention the Underboss…Whim is loyal.”
“Kor is an idiot,” Henley said. “He trusts we can get the job done, and once we do, it’s just a matter of manipulating him to do what we want, remember? That’s always been our goal. You guys can’t seriously be chickening out now?”
“Turn it off.” Sullivan made a face of disgust and Flix clicked on his multi-slate, following the order.
“The rest is just them talking about how they’ll frame Baikal. Kor has been here a few times, and he’s had some of his men pick up loose items the past couple of visits. A jacket, an earring; things they could plant at the Shepard home base to help frame Baikal.”
Baikal had figured those things had been lost in the wash since they kept such a trustworthy staff, but now he clenched his jaw.
“Sounds like Kor’s being used,” Whim said.
“Morons don’t deserve to live,” Sullivan grunted. He turned to his son. “You take the lead.”
“Please,” the man on the ground glanced between them, “I need medical assistance! I told you what you wanted to know!”
“That’s true,” Baikal said. He rotated on his heels, aimed, and shot. “Someone tell Mazzie I’ll make up for the mess.” He motioned to his satellite. “Let’s go.”
