Douglas Montgomery confidently reviews the documents before him, when his phone begins to ring as he narrows his eyes at the unknown caller ID. “Who is this?” Douglas matter-of-factly asked.
An old croaky voice says, “I know it was you, Montgomery.”
Douglas leans back into his seat and says, “I fail to understand, Master Ferguson. Please explain yourself.”
Master Ferguson chuckles taciturnity over the line. “Montgomery, we both know only two people were aware of my grandson’s identity and existence. So, tell me, if I did not speak a word on the subject to anyone one, then just how did the Queen Mother know?” Master Ferguson calculating said as Douglas's hand grip tightens around his phone. Remaining silent, Douglas refuses to give anything away.
“Montgomery, your silence says it all, but I will play your little game. Allow me to say one more tidbit of information that you may find pertinent to your situation. I know it was you,” Master Ferguson menacingly said.
“Know what? As I stated before, Master Ferguson, please be clear and precise with your words. I know old age comes to all of us, but it is inexcusable to fail to be precise,” Douglas flatly stated.
“Then allow me to be clearer and more precise, Montgomery, I know t’was you who planned the attack on the Conclave,” Master Ferguson said with absolute certainty as Douglas stiffens at the truthful declaration. “It was the perfect job without any clues being tied back to you, Montgomery, but your failure was your greed. Who would destroy the agency and have the most gain with the Conclave’s attack and my unabated fury directed at the Queen Mother? Who knew about my grandson other than myself? It was you, Montgomery and only you. Only you could have told the Queen Mother that morsel of information.
It had been a wonder to me, why the Queen Mother had been so silent these last twenty years. But the answer is your very existence, Montgomery. I can’t help but wonder what was promised between the two of you, but frankly, I don’t care. I merely want revenge and you will aid me or I will allow the Queen Mother to become your opponent,” Master Ferguson declared.
“I do take to being threatened, Master Ferguson, remember who you are dealing with,” Douglas growled.
“It is not a threat, Montgomery, but a fact,” Master Ferguson plainly stated.
Douglas leans back in thoughtful silence as he ponders the situation and thrives to gain the upper hand. A slow lazy smile appears on his face as a cunning little idea comes to mind. “Very well, Master Ferguson, I am listening, what is that you want?” Douglas asked.
“Deliver the Queen Mother to her death, I do not care whose hand you use to do so, but destroy her,” Master Ferguson demanded.
“I see, that might be a bit tricky given the current circumstances, but it is not an impossible task to complete. However, I will need time,” Douglas replied.
“How much time?” Master Ferguson pointedly inquired.
“1 to 2 years to set the cogs in motion, but it shall be done,” Douglas sincerely answered.
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“I can wait that long. See to it that it is properly taken care of, Montgomery. And Montgomery, should you attempt to play me, I shall release thy well-kept secret to the world,” Master Ferguson firmly stated.
“Pray tell, what is that so-called little secret,” Douglas enquired of him.
Master Ferguson quietly chuckles to himself, a disturbing rickety old laugh. “Oh, Montgomery, if ye can’t guess, that means it is that much more powerful,” Master Ferguson said with a great deal of satisfaction.
The call ends with a snap as Douglas Montgomery thoughtfully gazes at the Caller Id. It must surely be a bluff on that old man’s end, but-. But that old man never bluffed without possessing enough cards to back up his statement. No, that old man knew something, but the question was what?
With that question in mind Douglas texts a simple message to a certain dark-haired young man with heterochromia colored eyes. “Arrange to feed the beasts a bone. I will send the details once a meeting has been arranged,” Douglas typed.”
“Yes, sir, understood” Vincent dutifully typed back.
Douglas nods his head in satisfaction and presses the phone intercom on his desk. “Delinah, please send Fenrir up to see me,” Douglas stated.
“Of course, sir, it will be just a minute. Will that be all?” Delinah, Douglas’s secretary asked.
“Yes, that will be all thank you,” Douglas replied as he returns to his gaze to the portfolios in his hand. Douglas decisively takes a pen and drags a giant X across the proposal before dumping the report into the trash. The time of passiveness had come and gone, it was time to show his hand.
The door quietly opens to reveal a middle-aged man in his late forties with a touch of silver on the side of his head beginning to merge. The man was slim and toned, not too tall nor short. But what was truly startling is in the manner, which the man held himself, it was if a predator had taken standing human form. Everything from the way he studied his surroundings to the way he watched others gave one the urge to flee. The man’s eyes come to land on Douglas and as if in recognition of a similar bloodthirsty predator, the man nods his head at Douglas in an acknowledgment.
Douglas rests his elbows on his desk and says, “Fenrir, how many years has it been since you last ran wild?”
A lazy grin appears on Fenrir’s taut lined face. “What do you have in mind?” Fenrir hungrily said, before remembering to add, “Sir?”
“How about the fox and the hound?” Douglas carefully instructed.
“I see. So, which am I, the fox or the hound?”
“The fox who sneaks into the chicken coop to eat the eggs and steal the chicks.”
Fenrir flashes a beast-like smile and huskily says, “Are there any restrictions to the hunt, sir?”
Douglas leans back into his chair and carefully says, “Nothing that can be traced back as usual.”
“Understood, it’s to be, as usual, sir. But in that case, may I have some time to familiarize myself with the farmers and their chicken coops?” Fenrir requested.
Douglas raises an eyebrow in surprise at the unexpected caution on Fenrir’s part. “What a surprise, I didn’t think you were a cautionary man?” Douglas commented in surprise.
“I have to be sir, if I want to live to enjoy my work and stay one step ahead of the hunters,” Fenrir cheekily replied.
Douglas nods his head sagely in the reply and says, “Very well then, in that case, I shall send the finer details once I have a confirmation on my end.”
“Of course, sir,” Fenrir politely answered, before leaving the room.
Douglas watches Fenrir stride out of his office with careful eyes. A fabulous hound, but one who without provocation would bite the hand that feeds it. Douglas would have to take care to handle the matter perfectly seeing he could little afford any mistake in these precarious times. The power struggle of the world is hanging in the balance as new lines would be redrawn by the powers that be to rewrite who would be the supreme powerhouse of Earth.