Confronting the Fallen (4 page)

He wondered why there were so many people milling
around. What day was it anyway? Saturday maybe? Chris had no idea. He
knew it was early May but that was about it.

Once he had caught his breath, Chris glanced at
the judge, who smiled slightly.

“Can you speak comfortably now,
Christopher?” the man asked.

Chris nodded and the judge continued. “Good.
We don't have time now for a full accounting of your journey here,
but I'm eager to hear about it. Right now, we have to get you
somewhere safe.” He stood up. “So, if you'd like to
follow me, we'll be off.”

Chris stood up. He was a little confused. “You
mean we aren't safe here, sir? We're in the middle of a crowd on
Parliament Hill!”

The judge gave a soft laugh at Chris' tone.
“Crowds are not as safe as some people believe, young man.
People can get close to you in crowds, overhear conversations, even
do you harm and slip away unnoticed.” He looked around at the
flocks of tourists. “No, crowds aren't really very safe at all.
So please follow me, Christopher.”

The judge set off toward the street that passed to
the south of the hill. Chris grabbed his jacket and followed him
closely, watching the crowd nervously. He didn't see anyone with a
tattoo on their cheek but it was hard to make out faces in the many
groups of people around them.

As they approached the curb, a long black
limousine pulled up in front of them. A man wearing a dark blue suit
jumped out of the driver's seat, hurried around the car and opened
the back door for the judge.

“In you get, Christopher,” the judge
said and Chris ducked his head and slipped into the car.

Chris had never been in a limousine before and he
was amazed at how big the inside was. There were two bench seats
facing each other, several cabinets, two telephones and a lot of
switches and electronic devices that he couldn't identify. There was
a smell of leather and cigar smoke in the air that Chris found oddly
comforting.

He sat down on the bench that faced the rear of
the car and the judge slipped in and sat down across from him. The
driver got back in and the car slid into traffic.

“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

“We'll drive around the downtown core for a
few minutes, Bennett,” the judge answered. “And then head
for home. Let's see if we've picked up any friends today.”

The driver chuckled. “Yes sir,” he
said.

Chris watched as the judge pulled his electronic
pad from an inside pocket and started tapping on it.

“Um, sir?” Chris said hesitantly. The
judge looked up at him. “I was wondering what you meant about
picking up some friends?”

The judge looked amused. “We sometimes
attract unwanted attention, Christopher. I don't know if you were
followed or not, but I might have been. So we'll drive for a while
and see if we can spot someone on our tail.”

“Oh,” Chris said. “I see. I'm
pretty sure I wasn't followed, sir.”

The judge put down his pad and sat back, watching
Chris intently. “Yes,” he said. “About that. I'd
like to hear about your thrilling escape from Toronto, young man. I'm
guessing that it couldn't have been easy.”

Chris stared at the man but he couldn't detect any
sarcasm in the judge's voice, so he looked out the window at the
passing cars and thought about the night before.

“No sir, it wasn't easy. At least, not at
first.” He looked back at the judge. “Talon was
everywhere, it seemed. At the bus station, the train station, the
airport. Everywhere.” He hesitated. “I didn't realize
there were so many of them.”

The judge grimaced. “Sometimes it feels like
they out-number the grains of sand on a beach.”

“Who are they, your honor? I mean, really.
They're more than just a gang of thugs, that's for sure.”

“Talon is...” The judge hesitated.
“Talon is more than a bunch of street punks, Christopher. The
members that you saw are merely street-level enforcers;
cannon-fodder. They deal in drugs, extortion and other matters that
bring in some money to the organization. But Talon is much more than
that.” The man looked intently at Chris. “They are the
largest group of killers and assassins in the world.”

Chris felt his jaw drop. Assassins? He shook his
head. “I don't understand,” he said.

“I know you don't, Christopher,” the
judge replied kindly. “And I think the explanation should wait
until we reach a safer location. But you asked me who Talon is and
that is the answer to your question.” With that, the judge
nodded once, picked up his pad again and sat back in his seat.

Chris realized that the judge had said as much as
he was going to at the moment, so he also sat back and watched the
traffic, thinking about the mysterious Talon.

They have to have the wrong guy, was his first
thought. Assassins wouldn't be chasing me. I'm nobody! Just a kid
with no parents trying to get by. I mean sure, I have some money in
the bank, but that can't be it. He thought harder. Maybe it has
something to do with Mom and Dad? Something they were involved in?
But Chris dismissed that idea immediately. His parents were teachers,
educators. Both respected the law and would never do anything to
attract the attention of killers like Talon; he was convinced of
that.

He finally gave up trying to figure out Talon's
motives. Hopefully the judge would tell him more when they got to
wherever they were going.

He suddenly realized that the car was no longer
just wandering around the downtown core. They seemed to be heading
south and Chris remembered that the main highway out of Ottawa was
located south of Parliament Hill. He continued to watch as the car
finally turned on to an on-ramp and they sped up, joining traffic
heading west out of the city.

The driver spoke up. “We're on the
Queensway, your honor,” he said over his shoulder. “And
our escort had joined us.”

“Yes, thank you Bennett,” the judge
replied without looking up from his electronic pad.

“We have an escort?” Chris asked in
surprise.

The judge sighed. “I'm afraid so,
Christopher. Standard procedure these days.”

“Oh,” Chris said and sat up, trying to
spot the escort in the cars traveling around them. But he couldn't
find them among the mass of vehicles everywhere, so he finally sat
back and relaxed. The last day was starting to take its toll and
Chris found himself dozing in his seat, the sound of the judge's
tapping on his device oddly relaxing.

How much time had passed, Chris never knew, but
suddenly the car came to an abrupt stop and he sat up quickly,
rubbing his eyes to try to wake up.

Outside of the car, night was falling. They had
turned off of the paved road, which seemed to be a two-lane highway,
on to a gravel lane. Chris saw a car ahead of them and, turning
around to stare over the judge's shoulder, saw a second car behind
them. All three vehicles were stopped and Chris watched as the judge
peered through the growing gloom. The man was frowning slightly.

Just as Chris was about to ask what was going on,
the judge's electronic pad chimed gently. The man tapped the screen
and a voice spoke up.

“Your honor, we have a problem,” said
a clipped, female voice.

“Yes Sarah, I noticed. What is it?”
the judge asked.

“The gate just called, sir. Apparently we
have a welcoming committee.”

The judge sat quietly for a moment and Chris heard
him mutter something that sounded like “Naturally.” Then
the man spoke aloud again.

“Thank you, Sarah,” he said. There was
a click on the pad and then the judge tapped it several times. Chris
was watching him closely and he could feel his own heart starting to
pound.

A welcoming committee, he thought. What does that
mean? An ambush maybe. Chris stared at the judge. Well, he thought,
Judge Hawkes must be an important guy. Maybe he has enemies.

Chris' thoughts were interrupted again as he heard
a ringing on the judge's pad. There was a click but no one answered.

“Ghost,” the judge said, speaking into
the phone.

“Sir,” a voice answered. The tone was
neutral and Chris couldn't decide if it was a man or a woman that
spoke.

“We have uninvited guests between the main
road and the house. Ask them to leave, would you?”

“Copy,” the voice said in the same
tone and the phone clicked again. The judge sat back and looked over
at Chris.

“It won't be long, Christopher,” he
said in a reassuring tone. “Try to be patient.”

“Yes sir,” Chris answered. “Um,
who is Ghost?”

The judge smiled. “Ghost is my head of
security.”

“Oh. Okay.” Chris sat back again. He
wanted to ask the man what was really going on, but somehow knew that
the judge wouldn't tell him. So he waited, listening tensely for some
sign that there was a fight or something going on outside of the
brightness of the car's headlights. But Chris heard nothing beyond
the purr of the engine and the continuous tapping of the judge's pad.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably
only a few minutes, Chris jumped as the pad chimed again.

The judge tapped it once and the voice of Ghost
spoke up.

“Clear,” it said.

“Thank you, Ghost,” the judge said
quietly.

“Sir,” Ghost replied and the phone
clicked off.

“Bennett, signal the others and let's get
going,” the judge said.

“Yes sir,” Bennett replied. Chris saw
the driver flash his headlights and the car ahead began to move off
slowly. As their car followed, Chris turned and saw the car behind
them also begin to move.

The woods around them glowed eerily as the three
cars slowly made their way along the gravel road. Chris kept looking
around, wondering if he might be able to spot any signs of a
struggle, but all that could be seen were closely packed trees and a
lot of undergrowth. The cars weren't moving very quickly but as the
minutes passed, Chris began to wonder just how far the house was from
the road. And then the trees gave way to an open area and in the
dying twilight, Chris turned around to see if they were close to
their destination and gasped.

The gravel lane led across a very large, well
-trimmed lawn and Chris saw what seemed to be a high stone wall. Two
iron gates swung open as he watched and beyond was the largest house
that Chris had ever seen. Or was it a castle? In the dwindling
daylight it was impossible to tell.

Just inside the gates, two men in dark suits
flanked the road. They nodded at the driver as the car passed them
and entered a large courtyard. The two escort vehicles pulled away
and Bennett turned the car in a slow circle until they had stopped in
front of the huge building.

“We're here,” the judge said simply.
He slipped his pad into his pocket and waited while the driver
quickly got out of the car and ran around to open the door. “After
you, Christopher,” the judge said and waved him out of the
limo.

Chris stepped out of the car and moved to one side
to make room for the judge. Then he looked around the courtyard.

The walls surrounding the yard were at least
twelve feet high and there were lights glowing down every dozen yards
or so. He could see several people scattered about; Chris thought
that they looked like guards. He looked up at the building looming
over him. It had to be at least three stories high.

As he was staring around in amazement, the judge
exited the car.

“Welcome, Christopher,” the judge said
and waved toward the building,”to the Hawkes Nest. My home.”

The front door of the mansion opened as Chris and
the judge approached it and another man in a dark suit welcomed them.

“Good evening, your honor,” he said
and waved them inside.

“Evening, Preston,” the judge replied.
“How are things?” They walked by the man and he closed
the door behind them.

“All quiet, sir,” Preston answered.
“The mayor called earlier. I told him you'd get back to him
shortly.”

The judge smiled and nodded. “Yes, I'll do
that.”

As the two men continued to talk, Chris looked
around the area.

The entrance hall was very wide and the walls were
covered with large paintings. When Chris examined several of them, he
noticed that each one seemed to show some sort of religious theme. He
saw paintings of angels, knights, armies with crosses on their flags
and many other religious symbols. He wondered if the judge was some
sort of religious fanatic.

The floor was made of very shiny dark wood and a
wide ornate carpet led away from the door into the distance. He could
smell pine cleaner. To the right, he noticed a desk with a computer
and a young woman sitting behind it. When he caught her eye, she
smiled and nodded. Chris felt himself reddened slightly as he nodded
awkwardly back. The woman's smile broadened and then she went back to
typing on the keyboard.

Chris jumped as the judge tapped him on the
shoulder. “All set, Christopher?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Chris responded.

The judge gestured for Chris to follow him. The
man who had greeted them went out of the front door and closed it
quietly behind him.

As they walked down the long hallway, the judge
glanced at Chris, who was still looking at the many paintings they
were walking past.

“So, what do you think of the old place so
far, Christopher?” he asked.

“Nice,” Chris said, a bit distracted.
They passed several oak doors as they walked. One opened to a small
sitting room with walls lined with books and several comfy-looking
chairs scattered around. Chris looked up at the judge and waved at
the paintings. “Are you a, um, very religious person, sir?”
he asked hesitantly.

The man chuckled. “Not at all, Christopher,”
he answered, to Chris' surprise. “But my ancestors were, well,
not religious, but interested in the subject.” He stopped in
front of one painting that showed a scene of battle between what
Chris supposed were knights and demons. The demons seemed to be
winning.