The Family

[Keeper]

“Time for some retribution, my boy,” Vitto said. He handed Tarlan his own baseball bat, one that used to sit on a shelf in his bedroom.
“Take the fucker’s gag off! I want to hear Proof scream,” Tarlan suddenly hissed at his brother.

“Wait,” Proof gasped through chapped lips and a dry mouth.
“Fuck you!” Tarlan drove the chair forward until he was directly in front of Proof, then he swung the bat in at the man’s exposed ribs.
Proof cried out in pain. “Stop,” he pleaded.
Tarlan hit him again, swinging the bat low into his legs.
Again Proof cried out.
“Please,” a pitiful squeak emitted from the young man.
“Please what, Proof? Please stop hitting me? Okay then, I’ll stop just like you did.”
Tarlan swung the wooden club in again and again in a ferocious attack, aiming for bony parts of his body where he could cause high levels of pain without risking killing him.
Tarlan was panting by the time he stopped and Proof was hanging limper than before, just emitting tiny whimpers sporadically.

Tarlan heard chains scraping on steel to his left.
The big black form of Rags was straining against his bonds, looking terrified. Tarlan found it very strange seeing such a big fearsome man looking so scared.
“Oh, now these guys are getting it!” Marlan said bemused. “We hadn’t told them why we were holding them. You were our little surprise to them too!”

All Tarlan could see was Rags kicking time and time again.
He maneuvered the chair over to him.
Rags tried to kick out at Tarlan to keep that long wooden bat away.
Pauli emerged from the darkness, grabbed the bat from Tarlan and dodging easily passed the flailing feet, swung the club into the side of the man’s head.
It wasn’t overly hard but it was enough to stop him moving.
He threw the club back to his younger brother without a word.
Tarlan saw red and screamed as he launched an attack on the big man.

[Keeper]

Tarlan was sweating by the time he finished beating Rags. The man hung corpse-like by his wrists, blood flowing from eyes, ears, nose and mouth. His body was swollen, his ribs broken to splinters. His right leg bent outwards from the knee by about thirty degrees. The kneecap itself had swollen and then burst from the continued pummelling it got.

Turning his back on the man, breathing heavily but still full of raging hatred Tarlan returned to Proof.
“What sort of a stupid name is Proof anyway?”
“Short for bullet-proof apparently,” Marlan answered. “He’s been shot six times and survived.”

“Really?” Tarlan snarled, holding his hand out to his brother. “Let’s see shall we?”
Marlan placed a pistol in the boy’s hand.

Tarlan took careful aim.
He fired his first shot into Proof’s right foot.
Proof screamed and hopped about like a demented pupped on iron strings.
“That’s one, you bastard,” the boy yelled, filling his mind with the weeks of pain he’d endured, the embarrassment of having to have people help him go to the toilet and the thought of the rest of his younger life when he should be out enjoying himself and partying after his exams, but which he no longer would be doing.
This man before him had taken that away. Any hopes he had had were destroyed.
Despite their father’s wishes Rachel would have found a way to stay in touch. But any hopes he might have had for them to be anything more than just friends were now dashed. Even if she wanted to be with him there was no way he would put her through having to look after him. No way he was going to take her looking after him.

The doctors had told him to wait, eventually he would be grown enough for him to undergo augmentative surgery. They proposed rebuilding his spinal column, maybe replacing his pelvis and legs too. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that?
Cybernetics wasn’t a new technology but there seemed to be something intrinsically wrong with putting machines inside your body. There had been massive protests about it, especially after some high profile cases where the augmentations had gone wrong and caused injury to the person of other people. So Tarlan figured he was doomed to this chair for the rest of his life. His ruined, worthless, pitiful life where his mother would spend the rest of her days helping her son on and off the toilet.
The anger he felt now was so overpowering. He glared at Proof for a while, listening to his whimpers and curses.
Tarlan felt the anger like ice in his heart. There was no sympathy there for any of these people, no regrets, no worry.
He fired the pistol again. “Two!”
Proof wailed and hung loosely from his shackles, his other foot now useless.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Three, four, five,” Tarlan counted. Thigh-thigh-arm.
With a blood curdling cry of anger, frustration and more anger Tarlan emptied more rounds from the weapon, each finding a fleshy target, the last but one bullet in the clip had gone through Proof’s right eye, spraying bone and grey matter over the shelving.
“Not so fucking bullet-proof now are you, you fucking prick?” Tarlan spat at the dead body.
He shifted in his chair. “Hey, Rags!”
The black man was already watching him, terror was etched over his normally aggressive features.
“You bastards are getting the easy way out. I gotta live like this.”
Rags said nothing, he was too scared and in too much pain already.

Tarlan took aim.
Rags tensed, knowing what was coming. He snarled and stood tall on his one working leg.
Despite the bravado, urine poured from his exposed penis, running down his leg and pooling on the floor with the blood.

Tarlan fired. The shot tore the man’s throat out.
Blood splashed onto the floor as though some unseen person had thrown a bucket full of it in front of the suspended body.
Rags’ eyes bulged and a final wave of panic as he drowned on his own blood had him flailing wildly.
He was still after only a few seconds, blood loss getting him before asphyxiation did.

Tarlan dropped the empty gun on the floor and turned his chair away. He stared hard into his father’s eyes.
“I want to go home,” Tarlan said.
Vito nodded curtly without saying a word.
“What about the others?” Pauli asked.
Without looking at them, beaten already by Vito’s men, all of them knowing what fate awaited them, even the two fifteen year olds, Tarlan’s reply was ice cold.
“Kill them all.”

Outside the warehouse Tarlan took a deep breath.
The noise of the city, the smells brought home the reality of the world and the reality of what he had just done.
He threw up again, retching on an empty stomach.
Shaking and hyperventilating, his father at his side Tarlan cried.

Vitto hugged his son, pressed the boys head to his chest and let him cry out all the anguish and anger that had been trapped inside.
He didn’t say a word, not even when Tarlan wiped his eyes and nodded numbly at the awaiting lev.

[Keeper]

“Mrs Cobretti?”
Marta Cobretti looked up from the pad she was reading.
The doctor smiled as he approached her across the waiting room.
She was beautiful. Her face was smooth, unlined, her eyes sultry, lips full. She looked half her age. The only thing that gave her away were the few grey hairs appearing in her otherwise jet-black hair.
It was only when he was stood right beside her that he could see the faintest hint of worry lines.
“Mrs Cobretti,” he held out his hand as he greeted her. “Doctor Stukovitz”
She stood and shook his hand.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting ma’am. Tarlan was finishing off today’s physio session.
Marta nodded understandingly and gave a sly smile. “I bet!” she quipped.
Stukovitz looked surprised for a moment before something dawned on him. “Oh yes, of course. He and nurse Tagatta have been getting on rather well!”
“Not as well as my son had hoped,” Martha grinned sheepishly, wondering why she felt the need to disclose her son’s secret crush to this relative stranger.
“Well, I suppose it would be rather unethical for one of our physiotherapists to get, erm, involved with a patient in that way.”
Martha laughed aloud. A dainty laugh like tinkling glass.
“Nonsense, doctor. Love is love. It can be very hard to come by these days so I say to hell with ethics. Anyone can see the two are made for each other. Anyway, enough of my son’s romantic desires. How has he been doing?”
“Well…” the doctor drew the word out and Martha immediately became suspicious.
“You’d better sit down, Mrs Cobretti.”
“I think I’ll stand, Doctor, “Martha said cautiously.
“Well, as you wish. Where to start? Right, well, we told you and your son about the risks of this surgery. Especially as we weren’t using nanites in this procedure. We were hoping that by rebuilding the lower spinal column we would be able to restore some of the sensation and motor control to his lower body. However there was always the risk that we might exacerbate the existing paralysis.”
Martha nodded. She remembered the conversation. She thought she had prepared herself for a bad outcome but now she could feel the blood draining from her face.
“And we wouldn’t know how the surgery had gone until the swelling had died down and the pressure had gone from the spine,” the doctor paused and smiled.
“Just tell me how he is,” Martha prompted.
“I think it would be best to show you.”
The doctor turned and walked to the door through which he had entered. He opened it, spoke to someone on the other side, then returned to Martha.
“You should sit down,” he smiled at her.
She couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad smile. Martha shook her head, too terrified now to move.
The door opened and the petite and very attractive Japanese nurse who had been looking after Talan stepped through.
The young women, Martha seemed to recall that Tarlan has said she was twenty three, was dressed in tight sportswear, as physios had done since the dawn of time it seemed.
Her heart shaped face was bright and smiling, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Her figure was perfect. Martha understood why her eighteen year old son was so smitten with her.

The nurse bowed in greeting to Martha, catching her a little off-guard. Martha bowed back awkwardly.
The nurse’s face was bright and cheery, which didn’t sit well with the dread Martha was feeling. it was as though everyone was putting on a show, brave happy smiley faces to make her feel less alone when the bad news was delivered.
It took a moment for Martha to realise that the young nurse was holding the door open.
“Oh,” Martha mumbled embarrassed and took a step towards the door but the doctor’s hand gripped her arm firmly, holding her back.
“Not just yet, Mrs Cobretti,” the doctor whispered.
She frowned at him and pulled her arm from his grasp. He was not holding on hard so she slipped free easily.
When she turned again to the door her eyes went wide, her breath caught and her knees turned to jelly.
“Oh my god!” she whispered.
“Hi mum!” Tarlanus Cobretti grinned sheepishly through his long black locks.
Martha couldn’t speak and tears had formed in her eyes. Her son was stood in the doorway, propped up on crutches which were shaking with the strain as he supported his weight on both arms.
“Don’t make me come to you mum!” Tarlan laughed.
“Oh my god!” Martha repeated as she stumbled across the lobby area. She was crying so much she could barely see.
Throwing her arms around her son she nearly knocked him over.
The nurse quickly jumped alongside him and helped support him whilst his mother smothered him in kisses.

[Keeper]

Tarlan stared into those brown almond shaped eyes. They sparkled when she smiled, which was what she was doing now. He kissed her soft lips hard, pressing his mouth to hers for a long moment.
Pauli Cobretti watched for a few seconds before his fingers went to his mouth and he blasted out a shrill, triumphant whistle.
All around people began clapping and cheering.
Tarlan broke the kiss and hugged the beautiful woman before him. “I love you, Akiko Tagatta,” he whispered.
“Who’s she?” Akiko laughed.
He pulled away. “Sorry! Akiko Cobretti. I love you Mrs Cobretti.”
“I love you too, Tarlanus Brutus Cobretti,” she smirked as he screwed his nose up at the mention of his middle name.
Tarlan wobbled slightly and Aki grabbed his. “You alright?”
“Just been stood still too long,” Tarlan smiled.

Angelina Cobretti, Angel to everyone that knew her, stepped up to the newlyweds, holding out the black walking stick that Tarlan had handed her when she had arrived with the bride.
“Congratulations,” she whispered as she stepped behind the two for the procession back outside.

They had been married in the ornate Japanese Imperial Gardens within the grounds of the Japanese Embassy in Washington DC.
They had been presided upon by two ministers. One had been Father Romero who had known the family all their lives representing the Catholic Faith, the other had been Ukko Rei a Shinto priest and friend of the Tagatta family.
Tarlan and Aki had wanted to honour both faiths and enter into their life together having sworn their oaths in front of every god that could possibly have an interest in their lives.
Father Romero had taken some persuasion!

Tarlan smiled at Aki and took her hand in his.
“Come on bro!” Marlan hissed quietly from behind him. “Let’s get these damned speeches over so that I can get to some serious drinking!”
“Marlan!” Angel chastised the Best Man, thumping her brother’s arm.

[Keeper]

The reception was being held in the grounds of Vitto Cobretti’s sizable estate on the outskirts of Arkham, Massachusetts.
It had been the family home for over a century.

A huge marquee had been set up on the back lawn and quite literally hundreds of guests had been invited.

After the speeches the party went into full swing and threatened to go on that way until the early hours of the next morning.

“Congratulations, son,” Vitto raised his glass to his youngest child when the boy entered the old man’s study, to which he had been virtually summoned.
Tarlan smiled graciously. “Thanks. Dad.” He noticed that Marlan and Pauli were there too.
“So what’s this?” the younger brother asked.
“Sit down,” his father offered.
Tarlan had a growing suspicion that he wasn’t going to like whatever this was, and he considered being obstinate and remaining standing but he had been on his feet all day and his back was in agony despite the pain killers.
He eased himself into an armchair.
Marlan poured him a drink.
“What can I do for you father?” Tarlan asked, hoping that he didn’t sound too inconvenienced. After all, his father was paying for all of this.
“How’s the business?” Vitto asked.
Tarlan bridled. He’d had many an argument with his father over his decision to go it alone. After his experiences with Proof, he had chosen there and then not to get involved with his father’s business.
“Well enough,” Tarlan answered defensively.
“Really” Pauli chimed in, obviously not believing him.
“Yes,” Tralan hissed, gripping the arms of the chair tightly.
“Pauli,” Vitto warned his eldest before setting his steely eyes on Tarlan.
“I was hoping you might have been in a position now to reconsider my offer?”
“In a position now?” Tarlan quoted suspiciously.
“Yes. You have a wife to support now. I think you should give up this folly idea and come back into the family business, my boy.”
“Family business?” Tarlan almost spat the words out. “It’s hardly a business father, is it? You’re not exactly Richard Branson.”
“Hey! Watch your mouth!” Pauli warned.
“Or what, Pauli?” You’ll break my teeth out? Bust my kneecaps? Put a cap in my ass?”
“You little ingrate fuck!” Pauli marched over to Tarlan, but Marlan pulled him away.
The middle brother said nothing, just stared passively into into his elder brother’s eyes for a moment and this seemed to calm him.
“You just watch that punk-ass mouth,” Pauli jabbed a finger Tarlan’s way threateningly. “I ain’t got no problem with hittin’ a cripple you know,” he added spitefully.
Tarlan flinched at this as though he’d been stabbed with a needle but said nothing.
“Jesus, Pauli!” Marlan gave a resigned sigh.
Vitto waited until Pauli had resumed his seat at the small table beside the well stacked bookshelves that lined one wall of the study.
“You should think about it, Tarlan. You’re a Cobretti; you belong in the firm.”
“I have my own business, father. I’m going to do things on my own, and do them legally.”
“And look where that’s getting you. You live in a two room apartment in Detroit. You barely make enough to cover your staff wages and haven’t paid yourself in almost a year.
“Bloody hell, dad! You’ve been snooping into my accounts?”
“You’re my son. I have a right to know what’s happening.”
“No, dad, you don’t. that’s my business. You have no right so keep the hell out.”
“I’m allowed to look out for my boy,” Vitto growled.
“I’m not your boy, I’m twenty five!” Tarlan threw his hands up in frustration. “I can do this on my own, dad. I want to. And if I fail, so what? I’ll pick myself up and start again.”
“Don’t expect us to bail you out,” Pauli grumbled.
Tarlan glared at his older brother. “I don’t want your damned money, Pauli. None of it. The whole point of me going on my own is so that it’s legit. No dodgy deals, ill-gotten gains, nothing handed to me off the blood and misery of other people. Just hard work to get what I want. Good, hard, honest work.”
Pauli stood again, puffing himself up. “Little bitch!” he cursed. “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, is that it? We not worthy enough for you?”
“Get lost, Pauli. Have I ever said that? Have I? All I’ve ever said is that I got my way of doing things and you’ve got yours.”
“What’s so wrong with our way?” Pauli spat.
“That’s enough, Pauli,” Vitto said quietly.
“No, papa. I want to hear the little cripple out.”
“Pauli!” Vitto hissed.
“Come on, you prick,” Pauli waved a hand Tarlan’s way. “Tell us how wrong our way is. Come on. Let our father know what you think of all the money he spent on your wedding, on the house so you could get around in your cripple mobile better, of the money mum spent on your operation. Where’d you think she got that from?”
“I don’t expect you to get it, Pauli. I’ve got a wife and maybe kids someday. I want to build something for them that hasn’t needed me to kill someone.”
“But you have though, haven’t you? You’re living the lie, brother. Cos you were happy enough to do things our way when you beat the shit out of those guys that crippled you. When you took that gun and pumped them full of lead? Our way was good enough for you then, and everything you have done since then has been off the back of that.”
“No, Pauli! Can’t you see passed all the steroids or is it just that you’ve had too much to drink, again! Everything I have done since has been despite all that!”
“That’s enough!” Vitto barked.
Tarlan sighed and looked down at his shoes. One of his laces was undone.
“Thank you, father, for a wonderful party. I think I’ll re-join my wife,” Tarlan said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we decided to sneak off early.”
He pushed himself up from the seat, pain shooting across his lower back, his knees buckled and he fell back into his chair.
“Goddamit man! Look at him,” Pauli huffed, gesturing at Tarlan. “He can’t even get out of a chair properly. Why the hell would we want that joke with us anyway?”
“Ease up, Pauli,” Marlan pleaded.
“Why? What’s that little punk-ass going to do? He can just about walk! Man, I pity Aki. What’s the wedding night going to be like? Helping the half-cripple into his pyjamas? Does she still wipe your ass, Tarlan?”
“Fuck you, Pauli! Don’t see your wife here, brother.”
Vitto sat back, rubbed his eyes tiredly.
Pauli inclined his head, waiting for his brother to say the words that he knew were coming.
“Don’t have one do you? What’s wrong? Are you perhaps waiting for a husband instead?”
There they were!
Pauli virtually flew across the room and smashed his large meaty fist onto Tarlan’s nose.
Blood flooded down the younger brother’s face, turning his shirt red and staining his tuxedo a darker shade of black.
“You send that nice piece of Chinese ass to my room tonight, brother, I’ll show her how a real man feels and put some colour in those yellow cheeks of hers,” Pauli laughed sadistically.
“Hey Pauli,” Marlan said.
“What?” Pauli said, challenge in his voice.
“Shut the fuck up, man!”
“You what?” Pauli growled at Marlan.
“What?” Marlan challenged back, slightly amused. “You wanna have a go at me now?”
Pauli had learned the hard way that being three years his senior didn’t give him any kind of advantage what-so-ever when it came to fighting his brother.
“You were out of order with that, man,” Marlan frowned.
Pauli laughed and grabbed his crotch.
“You reckon, Marl? I’m feeling about ready to tear her apart. I’d go so hard at that slant-eyed slut I’d literally destroy her asshole!”
“PAULI!” Vitto yelled.
Pauli turned to his father who was standing, looming over his desk. “That’s my daughter-in-law you’re talking about. I ever hear words like that coming out of your mouth again, well… “ he let the word hang in the air.
Pauli didn’t need any further explanation. He knew exactly what his father would do.
“Get out, all of you,” Vitto hissed, disgusted with his eldest son and disappointed by his youngest.
Marlan helped Tarlan from the seat and handed his a handkerchief.

“Oh my gosh!” Aki said rushing to Tarlan’s side. “What happened?”
Marlan glanced at his brother, held his eyes for a brief moment.
Tarlan shrugged. “My legs gave out on me. I just proved that the bathroom sink is harder than my nose.”
“Oh, Tarl!” Aki stretched up and kissed his cheek.
“I’m ready to go home,” he said to her.

Martha and Vitto stood alongside Mr and Mrs Tagatta and waved their children off.
Marlan stood by the door of the lev and helped Aki and Tarlan into the vehicle.
“I’ll talk to Pauli about that thing, Tarl,” he said.
Tarlan gritted his teeth. “Do. And tell him there is one thing he and I agree on. I’ll do anything to protect my family, Marl, anything.”
Marlan nodded and ignored Aki’s inquisitive look. He knew she’d know that something had happened but that she was bright enough not to ask right now.
“Dad says good luck. No interference from us, he promises. Everything down to you bro!”

[Keeper]

“Oh, shit! Aki!” Tarlan Cobretti called out.
She rushed into the living room, dodging unpacked boxes.
“What?” she asked and then giggled as she saw Tarlan holding a three month old baby out at arm’s length.
There was a large wet stain down his shirt front and a nappy hung loosely between the little girl’s chubby knees.
The girl’s thin black hair was sticking up in tufts and she was doing that baby smile, all gums and drool.
Aki grabbed another nappy from the bag but Tarlan shook his head.
“No need,” he said. “She missed that one completely. Oh, and I’m glad you find it so funny.”
Aki took Miko from her father. “How can you not know how to put one of these on her properly?”
Tarlan looked exasperated. “She does it deliberately! When you do it she’s like a statue, but for me, like an eel!”
“Clever girl!” Aki commented with a laugh.
Tarlan shrugged and shook his head in bewilderment. “I have to change, honey.”

In a clean shirt he grabbed his coat, briefcase and walking stick.
“What time is your flight?” Aki asked.
“The shuttle takes off at nineteen-twenty Eastern. That’s what, ten-twenty Greenwich? Two hour flight to Luna Station, then the hop to Saturn. So I should be there in say, forty-eight hours. I’ll call you from the moon and again when I get to Saturn One-Orbital. The customer is in one of the ring mines, I don’t know how the comms will be from there.”
Aki smiled briefly and then pouted. “So you’ll be away for five days?”
“About that, yeah.”
She gave a theatrical sigh. “I’ll miss you. Miko will miss you too.”
She waved Miko’s fat little hand at him.
He laughed, kissed them both and headed out the door.
“See you both in five days. Love you.”

[Keeper]

The sun seemed to flare as it emerged into view around the edge of Mars.
Vitto Cobretti closed his eyes against the glaring bright light until the window polarized making the view bearable once more.
He liked to watch the sun come up, no matter where in the Solar System he happened to be.
At this moment standing in the cabin aboard the Neutron Star, his luxury space yacht, he felt at peace.
He wasn’t looking forward to seeing his two eldest sons this morning.
Yesterday’s meeting with the Syndicate hadn’t gone Cobretti’s way and he had lost a lucrative line in narcotics to his rivals from Red Star Brigade. It had been an avenue Cobretti had worked hard to develop and he wasn’t at all happy that the Martian crime gang had usurped him on the deal.
He knew his boys would be very vocal in their disapproval of the Syndicate’s decision.

An hour later he was back in his room, looking down on the red planet, knowing that somewhere down there that Irish bastard, Tom O’Halloran, was having a good old laugh at his expense.
RSB had managed to undermine Vitto’s efforts a number of times now and he was beginning to wonder if there was a mole in his camp.

He rocked slightly as the ship’s thrusters fired and the huge red orb that was Mars drifted out of view.
“Warning,” announced a soft electronic female voice. “Wormhole activation in thirty seconds, entering wormhole in one minute.”

The old Cobretti straightened his coat and quickly made his way to the bridge where he strapped himself into one of the seats that lined the rear bulkhead.
The Mars way station was in view ahead of the ship. It was an enormous power generator with habitation platform attached. Although it acted as a hub for most of the trans-planetary traffic, its main function was to empower and stabilise the wormhole here that would allow ships to travel from here back to Earth in just over ten minutes.

The way station, a huge mushroom shaped object had a platform on one side which housed an enormous turret like object with a barrel very much like a Telsa Coil. The turret’s spherical body was currently spinning around an axis formed by the barrel. A blue-white energy projected from the cannon into open space where a huge gate had opened.

Vitto could see beyond the hazy opening into the bright swirling interior of the wormhole.
The pilot eased the yacht forward smoothly, then it was like something had grabbed the vessel and catapulted it into a narrow tube that threatened to break the ship apart at every bend.
Vitto Cobretti didn’t much like traveling by wormhole.

[Keeper]

“Mother fuckers!” Pauli Cobretti swore as he hung up the phone.
“Pauli Cobretti!” Martha Cobretti chided. “How dare you use that language at the dinner table. It was bad enough that you took the call here.”
Cheeks flushing red Pauli glanced around at his parents, sister, brother-in-law and his niece and nephew.
“Sorry all,” he said meekly. Finally he glanced at his father who’s raised eyebrows told him how unimpressed he was.
“That’s not language to use anyplace,” Angel said sternly and gave her son and daughter a threatening stare. “Is it children?”
“No,” the ten and fourteen year old's replied in unison, though the teenaged Cody couldn’t help the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
Angel shot her eldest brother a withering look.
Pauli held his hands up submissively. “Alright already, I said sorry.”

“What was that about?” Vitto asked after the meal, when the two were alone in the dining room.
“That was Austin. He’d heard from Callum. The Waynecorp mining operation is a no-go. RSB undercut us.”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah, I know papa. I thought we had that one sewn up. It’s like every avenue we go down, those bastards cut us off.”
Vitto poured himself another glass of wine from the last of the bottle.
“Find out where we are with Pluto. If RSB got to Waynecorp, they might be muscling in on our Pluto game too.”
Pauli nodded, disappeared for an hour, then re-joined the family.
“Nothing to report on Pluto,” he said quietly to his father.
“Well at least that’s something,” Vitto laughed, not finding it remotely amusing though.

[Keeper]

“Say that name again,” Pauli said to the face on his monitor.
He was sitting in his apartment, the lights dimmed, so low that the screen appeared to be glowing.
“I said Rapier Enterprises.,” the man, a shaven headed Frenchman with one blue eye and one green one repeated the name.
“Rapier,” Pauli mused over the name.
“Oui. I have tracked down the business to one based in New York, on Earth. Some assholes who need some things explaining to them. I haven’t been able to tie them in with anyone from the Syndicate so we can make a move without any worries.”
“They’re definitely not Syndicate, mate,” Pauli said flatly.
“You know them?”
“Yeah,” Pauli said slowly, dejectedly.
“That doesn’t sound good. Who are they, triads? Yakuza? An independent?”
Pauli laughed. “oh, independent, definitely. So damned independent they’d turn their backs on anything you tried to do to help them.”
“Whoever it is,” said the Frenchman, “we should get in there and take a share of their cut.”
“There won’t be any cut. Rapier’s legit.”
The Frenchman threw his hands in the air triumphantly. “Ha! Easy then. I got a name. McKenzie. He’s running the supply contract. We should pay him a visit.”
“No,” Pauli said resignedly. “no, McKenzie’s just one of the managers.”
“Then we’ll find who sits at the top and put the squeeze on.”
“No, that won’t work.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because the man at the top of Rapier is Tarlan. He’s my goddamned brother.”

Pauli had expected Vitto to go nuts. The loss of that deal spelt a loss of millions in potential profit.
But the old man merely laughed and said he was happy for Tarlan.
Happy? What the..?
As far as Pauli was concerned, Mr ‘I don’t want anything to do with you’ was no different to anyone else. He was in the way of business. He had to be removed.
Pauli made a couple of calls.

[Keeper]

Alexander Averington knocked on the frosted glass door, waited a second or two, heard the voice inside beckoning him to enter and did just that.
“Hi Alex,” Tarlan Cobretti said jovially as the senior manager walked in, but his demeanour changed when he saw Alex’s serious expression.
“Problem?”
Alex nodded looking uncomfortably around the small office.
It was bright, the walls painted a pale pastel shade of yellow. The wall opposite the door was glass, floor to ceiling. Cobretti had had the lower half of the windows frosted, just like the door. Cobretti himself was sitting at a desk that was the same as any of the other desks that could be found throughout the ninety first floor suite of offices.
There was a small conference table that butted onto the desk and some comfortable chairs for clients or customers.
A door led off the office to the right. There was a small washroom in there and Alex knew a small bed too. It was a relic of the days when Tarlan was building the company up, spending nights here so that he could be up at the crack of dawn and go to bed when exhaustion forced him to.

There was no pretentiousness to Cobretti, this office was no different to his own just a few doors down the corridor. That was why he was hating having to deliver bad news. It always seemed to hit the CEO hard.
“Yes, I think so,” Alex said in response to his boss’ question. We’ve just had McKenzie on the phone. Apparently Waynecorp haven’t received this month’s shipment. Mack’s checked and the consignment left Earth. The courier reports they made the delivery, all signed for.”
Tarlan pulled a face. “That’s odd.”
Alex nodded again. “Mack’s going to look into it.”
“Okay,” Tarlan seemed to have deflated in his seat, half the size of the jovial upbeat man sitting there a minute ago.
“Keep me posted,” he said.