‘Enough!’ yelled Marco Lombardi, slamming his fist down so hard on the light-wood dining table that a red apple dislodged itself from the central fruit bowl and rolled to the edge and onto the floor. ‘There is a traitor amongst us and no one leaves here until that person is found.’
The four other people seated around the table appeared in stark contrast to the dilapidated kitchen itself, its walls disfigured by flaking white paint and sporting a stove and scuffed metal basin that, judging by the rust, had not been used in a very long time. For each of them wore brand-name clothing, from striped business suits to blue Armani jackets, and in the middle sat a woman with neatly braided black hair, her business suit and skirt hugging her body so snugly that it looked as if she had literally been poured into it. All those present were now looking shocked by his accusation and the sound of shoes nervously scraping the leaves strewn on the concrete floor could be heard clearly as Lombardi continued his rant.
‘Somebody here is trying to ruin our plans and Father is furious. He says someone has been in contact with the Red Death issuing conflicting orders.’
Even though all present appeared indignant at the claim, it was the woman who was eyeing Lombardi with particular scorn.
‘No one at this table has – or ever would – consider thwarting Father’s wishes, Marco,’ she snapped back. ‘Our confidence in his plans is as unwavering as it has always been, and to think that anyone would dare put their own life at risk is pure idiocy. We agreed to this path a long time ago and besides, she’s gone dark and no one can get in contact with her until it’s all over. You know that.’
‘Well someone has and Father’s convinced of it,’ Lombardi snapped, now breathing heavily as the others continued to shift in their seats.
‘Well, if there is anyone who deserves greater scrutiny, then it’s you.’ the woman replied with a menacing smirk.
Lombardi’s stare hardened and he glared back at her with contempt, his jaw muscles visibly tensing. ‘Now is not the time for games, Sofia,’ he snarled. ‘We are not children any more.’
‘Then stop acting like one,’ Sofia growled. ‘We all know that Father mistrusts you and if he does believe someone is trying to cause problems then perhaps he wanted to see your reaction by bringing it up with you. I’d be watching your own back before trying to place blame on any of us.’
The room fell silent as the others now fixed their attention on Lombardi. He remained stiff and defiant, watching as Sofia confidently settled back in her seat and concluded her outspoken rebuttal: ‘You wouldn’t want to end up like poor Donitz, would you?’
The mere mention of that name instilled a chill in the others, and she placed a palm on the worn and cracked plastic table and tapped it warningly. ‘They say he’s still alive and you can hear him whimpering inside that death casket of his. Emperor Scorpions are large and their stings are painful, yet weak. I wonder, Marco, how long you would last?’
The thought had Lombardi visibly rattled and a gulp rose in his throat. ‘Do you honestly think I would open myself up to Father’s wrath after so many years of loyalty? After all, when the Red Death returns to us, when this is over, she’ll simply reveal who gave her the new commands.’
Sofia waved her hand at him contemptuously and shook her head. ‘Stop calling her that ridiculous name, you’re making her sound like a comic-book character. She’s a trusted part of this family, and her name is Avi Legrundy.’
‘She’s more than that; that woman’s a believer, and her nickname is more than justified. She has caused more pain, death and misery than all of us here combined, and she has never failed whilst serving us.’
‘Well it appears she is being tricked into serving someone else’s will at the moment,’ one of the others interjected bluntly, and Lombardi now seized upon that statement.
‘Precisely. So if she’s not serving one of us, then who?’
The question drew a slew of blank expressions. ‘Someone is trying to disrupt what will happen here in less than twenty-four hours, and that cannot be permitted. With his return to us tonight, the house of our Lord will be restored, and with it the beginning of a new chapter for the world we have all been working towards for decades. Our belief in what we are trying to achieve is undeniable, so I ask you all again: whose faith could have waned to such a degree that they would even attempt to turn one of our own against us?’
The small group then began to eye one another with suspicion, and even Sofia started to look unsettled as Lombardi resumed his seat and watched them debate amongst themselves.
‘Let us suppose for a moment that you are right,’ Sofia said finally, again tapping her palm on the table top. ‘There are only a few of us who know the whole plan and even fewer bold enough to go against Father’s wishes. If it is not one of us here, then it has to be one of the others.’
‘Which should make it that much easier to expose them, shouldn’t it?’ Marco suggested smugly.
After thinking about it for a moment, Sofia then stood up and made her way over to the door behind them. ‘I’ll start making enquires,’ she affirmed flatly, clearly unhappy to even consider such a betrayal. ‘And I suggest the rest of you all do the same.’
Without even a word the other three men rose to their feet and followed her out the door, leaving Lombardi alone in the derelict kitchen. As the door closed shut behind them, he took a moment to survey the surrounding mess. So much history, he thought before allowing himself a moment to reflect on the trials, tribulations and tragedies that had been forced upon him – upon them all – and it angered him to the very core. A lifetime spent, toiling away and building up towards this moment, which was his by right, just to have Father tear it from his grasp and thrust him to one side like some plaything no longer needed or wanted. That was the true treachery here, and he had no intention of letting it reach its finale.
Lombardi retrieved the mobile phone from his inside pocket and began to tap away at it, before placing it to his ear. ‘Avi, what the hell is going on? Father knows someone’s been in contact with you.’
Avi Legrundy flicked a badly seared dreadlock from her forehead with one hand before pressing an adhesive bandage to her blistered cheek while she held the mobile in her other.
‘Dat’s impossible. I’ve not spoken to anyone and you alone are the only one who has my number.’
‘That may be so Avi, but he knows you’re being given orders on his behalf.’
There was a moment of silence as Legrundy mulled over the problem and she licked her scorched lips thoughtfully. ‘Then you better find someone to blame it on, hadn’t you?’
‘Very well.’ Lombardi replied, now sounding less agitated. ‘And how goes our plan?’
‘There were complications,’ she replied, barely wincing as she patted another bandage over the deep and painful looking burn mark running down the full length of her left arm. ‘But I know where he’s planning to go next.’
‘What complications?’ Lombardi’s voice cracked due to poor reception.
‘Nuthin I cannot handle.’
‘Good, because we’re quickly running out of time.’
‘I understand, Marco. I won’t be letting us down.’
There was a short silence as Lombardi cleared his throat and then he continued in a low, deep voice, not wanting to be overheard by anyone nosing around nearby. ‘You do still believe in what we’re doing don’t you?’
‘I do, brother, on that you can be certain.’
‘Good, because by this time tomorrow you and I will stand at the precipice of a new dawn and Father will be consigned to where he belongs. The depths of hell itself.’
The reception was now getting worse still as Lombardi gave his final wishes. ‘Just make sure Stefani Mitchell and Alex Harker are dead and that you retrieve what does not belong to them. And, Avi… make sure the professor suffers, would you please.’
Legrundy gazed down at her swollen, scalded arm and gritted her teeth. ‘That you can count on.’