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Luke plopped back in the chair, just staring out the windows.
“He won’t get to it, Luke,” said Eric. “We’ll make sure of it. He could do some damage, but we’ll just have to do our best to limit that damage.”
“We need to kill him.”
“What?”
“We need to kill him. I know he’s a chief justice, but we need to wipe that man from the planet. Someone that disturbed, that power-hungry, is not someone we need to have in our government. We need to get rid of him.”
“What about Harlow’s father? He’s just as dangerous.”
“He is, and we need to deal with him as well. I just want to be sure we don’t leave an obvious trail of dead bodies. Maybe we let the seniors pay a visit to Morrison. Do it on the up and up. Go into his office, meet with him, and pick a few scabs.”
“It’s a good idea. I can text them,” said Eric. Luke nodded.
“Do it. I want to see where this man is going with all this.”
“Well, well,” smirked Wilson. “Looks as if we’re getting the green light to pay a little visit to Morrison. This could be fun.”
“He hasn’t left his office,” said Nine. “It’s still business hours, so there’ll be plenty of witnesses. The only challenge will be getting in. They’ll notify him of who we are, and he’ll run or claim harassment.”
Trak tapped their arms, nodding toward a van near the loading docks. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a wad of bills and watched as the others did the same.
“Let’s make someone’s day,” grinned Miller.
The four workmen were unloading new desk chairs, sliding them onto the dock. Wearing long-sleeved black t-shirts with their company logo, it was perfect for what they needed. The team just needed to borrow their visitor’s badges.
Trak volunteered to speak with the men. Actually, he didn’t volunteer. He just took the rolls of money and walked toward them, waving the others back. They couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the men kept shaking their heads.
Suddenly, two of them stood at attention, saluting him. He brushed their arms to their sides, shaking his head. Handing them the cash, they handed over the badges and pointed to the restaurant across the street. As they left, Trak waved Wilson, Nine, and Miller over.
“Here,” he said, putting on his own badge. “Ninth floor. Third office on the right.”
Each man picked up a chair, carrying them toward the elevator. Pressing nine, they stepped out and pushed the button to hold the elevator in place. Three offices to the right, and they saw the sign.
Justice Seth Morrison
Nine knocked, but no one replied. Testing the knob, it opened easily. Stepping inside, there was an outer office with a desk for an assistant and then the larger office to the left.
“Celine? Did you bring me something back to eat? I’m starving.”
“Celine is busy,” said Miller, standing in the doorway.
Morrison reached for the phone, but Wilson gripped it, tearing it from his hands and out of the wall. He smirked as if knowing something they didn’t. Trak held up his phone, the green lines pinging up and down. VG was ensuring that there would be no recordings of what was about to occur.
“If you kill me, everyone will know it’s you,” he said with heavy breaths.
“If we were going to kill you, you’d already be dead,” said Nine. “Your game ends here. We have so much shit on you; you’ll never make it to the White House. Piss poor performance in the classroom. Lying on your resume. Participating in the solicitation of young girls, up to and including prostitution, trafficking, and drugs. Yes, sir. We’ve got it all.”
“N-no one will believe you.” Trak slammed his hands on the desk, leaning forward.
“Everyone will believe us.”
“You’re mad. You’re all crazy. It’s the right of this government to own all weapons created on our soil. It belongs to us!”
“What you mean to say is that it belongs to you. You’re delusional, Morrison. You honestly believe that all those technologies will be in your control. You’re not smart enough to figure out how they work or how to use them. Which means you have someone in mind to help you. But who?”
“You’re crazy. I don’t have anyone helping me.”
