CHAPTER 9
"Ok, so it was rigged? What's that suppose to mean?"
"Oh, come on, man, you're the damn detective. you tell me."
"I don't know, seems like you've done all the detecting thus far, the gun, the ammunition, the tape player, all in all you're either a regular Sherlock Homes, or brilliant cover up artist."
"With all due respect, bite me, my dear Watson. You can't still believe I am behind all this? Stealing illegal weapons, blowing up my home with a tape deck and some hardware that you cant get at the local..." Josh stopped short.
"What?"
"...Electronics store. Before they blew up the house, Crystal had a video camera trained on me. Then we find this tape deck, and I'm willing to bet that whatever else the bomb was made of, some parts of it had stickers saying 'Made in Japan'. Now, whoever this Andre bastard is, he's smart. He's not the type of guy who's going to leave a trail to follow him once he leaves town."
"So what's your point?" Kilburne asked, edge creeping once again into his voice.
" My point is, he's IN town, or at least he was, and since Kat isn't dead, I can't see him going very far. She tends to be very wiley when she's really doing anything against her will. This guy is keeping a low cover, he's still local. So he probably got his equipment local."
"So what? If you're right about this guy being smart, he's not going to make the mistake of using a check or a credit card to buy anything. He'd use cash, that way no one could trace him."
"That's the thing, he'd want to be careful. He wouldn't want to risk exposure, so he sends Crystal in. Someone the locals know, probably trust. And that's how we find him!"
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" So you see gentlemen, and lady, what I am offering you here is a loophole. You're contracts with the Network force you to devote all your time to serving THEM, with only minimal payoffs for maximum risks. Those fools take you, and me, for granted, and forget that without our skills, our talents, they would be nothing... WE are the Network, not them, and together, we can rise above their paltry limits and hold TRUE power in the palms of our hands!"
Portiere stopped, letting the impact of what he had said sink in to their minds and eat through their doubts. He smiled inwardly as he observed how well this was all going through. Here before him sat the best of the best, from Burlington to Budapest, Montreal to Mozambique. here in his home away from home sat the world's most successful kidnappers. Four men and one woman who for years had done what this business required, and had never been caught. Two of them didn't even exist , legally.
"That all sounds well and good Andre, but what I don't understand is the inclusion of grand theft into this plan. We're white slavers, not militia, what good will all these stolen weapons do us?"
The question came from Sir Thomas Bishop, a formerly knighted dignitary who was often spoke of in England as the Bishop of Burgandy, so called because every time a girl was vanished by his hand, the police would find a wide, deep red cloth, which they discovered had soaked in chloroform. Andre had a long history with the Bishop, and trusted him most among the four.
"A very good question, Thomas," Andre explained, "You see, in the end what we are talking about is battle, and in battle, it is not enough to conquer your opponent, but to truly be victorious you must DESTROY them in the process. Those scatter brained old fools at the soon to be history Network will use all the power they have to prevent our plans from going smoothly. So the only answer is to cut them off from their power, and once these stolen arms are found to be on their property, any ties they have will sever themselves. Leaving the path clear for us to take power."
Theresa Knighthall arched an eyebrow. " And just how are we supposed to get these arms onto Network property, Andre? You can't actually think they are simply going to let you walk in and drop off some stolen weapons for a weekend or two?"
"That's the beauty of it," Portiere smiled, "they already have. Who do you think owns the lease on this lovely abode. Our own cocky, smug Forefather, Jerome Davis" Andre took great pleasure in knowing that besides taking the power away from the Network with this siege, he was also scoring a personal victory against the cocky little prick who thought being of a higher rank made him superior.
The group sat in impressed silence as they realized the full impact of the plan.
No, rank had nothing to do with superiority, brains did, and no one else could match Andre Portiere when it came to a battle of wits.
To Be Continued...