"Left Ayn on the 5th, arrived here on the 4th." Vincent chuckled. "Time travel's real. Who knew?"
They were inside an empty room, hardly 12 by 12 feet. There was just one tube light hung right above the door in front of them. Suddenly, the sound of a click. The door got unlocked. Vincent raised a hand to calm the squad down. A man in an emerald-green three-piece suit peeked in.
"Heya V," he said and then opened the door fully. "Long time no see, eh? Who's the company?"
The White Bolt chuckled. "Oh, don't be like that," he said.
He looked at the squad slowly shifting his gaze from one member to the other. As soon as he saw Hugo, he said, "Well I'll be damned…" With a shake of the head, he added, "Well don't just stand there. Come on out."
The group walked out and found themselves inside a presidential suite of a five-star hotel.
"Where are we, man?" Marcus asked looking around at the lavish furniture.
"Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada," said the man in the suit. "As for this… well, this is my current abode. CHA!"
"I know you, right?" said Hugo, pointing at the strange man. Then looking at Vincent, he asked, "Is that Fallon?"
With wide open arms, the man whispered, "In the flesh…"
The slim-as-a-straw man was indeed none other than the 35-year-old wealthiest man of the arcane world – Fallon. One of the richest men overall, he owned a web of hotels, casinos, brothels, and recreational palaces around the world and an underground network of trading and exchange. Arcanists received special services at his establishments and exclusive packages. But the places were never exclusive. Everyone was served and no distinctions were ever made between plebeians and arcanists. However, this also meant that Mr Fallon's establishments were frequented by many rogues and aficionados of underground circuits and black markets.
"We won't stay too long," Vincent said, moving closer to Fallon. "I just need Bert. Is he here?"
"Hmm, Bert," he replied, standing arms akimbo, looking at the ground. "Doesn't ring any bells, V."
"Come on, jackass! We're in a hurry!"
He looked up with a smile. "Alright, alright. No need to get all testy. He should be in a recreational spot on the 5th floor. You can take the elevator to find your man."
He paused and looked at the squad. "If you're not too fond of technology, you can take the stairs… you'll need to go 28 sets down." Pointing at one of the two men who had walked in after hearing noises, he said, "Help these fine people locate their target without any hassle... Boom!"
The Zeta Squad looked at him with raised eyebrows. He always added those bizarre little explosions at the end of sentences, as if life was never complete without a punchline.
The White Bolt looked at Hugo and said, "Send someone down. You're looking for a middle-aged bald guy, with a ridiculous-looking moustache. Name's Bertrand Bonamassa and he looks like Popeye – bulky, crooked, and always smoking. Find him and bring him up. He will have the information we need."
Hugo asked Ella and Marcus to head downstairs to find the man.
"But I must warn you, friends," Fallon said. "Popeye usually had clothes on…"
After the duo walked out, the snazzy, well-groomed man, dressed to kill, walked over to the sofa and sat down. He stretched an arm out and placed it on the back of the sofa and brought one leg atop the other. Excitedly, he asked, "Could I interest you good folk in a cup of tea?"
Camille leaned closer to Gina whispering, "Who the hell is this guy?"
She shook her head. "Hmm, weird would be an understatement."
"No, thanks," Hugo said, looking at their host.
"Jolly good," Fallon said. "A smoke then?"
"No, thanks."
"Ah, I see you have a limited vocabulary, my friend. May I interest you in a dictionary?"
"Help me understand this first… how do you two know each other?"
"Who? Me and Vince?"
"Who else?"
"Oh…" His excitement quickly withered away as he wore a frown and dropped his head. "You really are dumb," he said, shaking his head. "He's a bounty hunter. I'm a rich guy with loads to do… doesn't take Einstein to do the rest of the math there…"
"I'll take the tea," said Vincent as he sat on a chair next to the sofa beside Fallon. "And anything you might have to eat…"
"Aye! Now there's my man! CHA!"
As his suave assistant brought a trolley full of treats and sandwiches, Fallon leaned closer to the White Bolt and whispered, "Aaaa… need a healer?"
"Ha!" Vincent chuckled then whispered back saying, "Do you think I do?"
The assistant took a cup of tea and handed it to Vincent and then brought out a bottle of wine for her boss.
"Oi, Zeta Squad!" Fallon called. "I know you don't drink, but do you eat?"
Hugo shook his head and looked the other way. Camille, Gina, and Neil walked over and stood close to their captain.
"How does he know who we are?" Camille asked, speaking softly.
Gina looked at her and said, "You'd be surprised by all that this guy knows. You don't become that rich and influential without knowledge."
Fallon was a well-known person in the arcane community. Whether it was the centralized organizations like the Eye or the Order, or the Cults, or even the rogues and fugitives around the globe, everyone knew him and had to cross paths with him or his people at one point or another. Some just kept a close eye on him and his operations, while others used his services for their own pleasure.
"This is bad though," Neil added, leaning closer with his arms folded. "These two know each other. They might be up to something."
Gina glanced at Fallon then said, "Mm… It's highly unlikely that a man of Fallon's power, influence, and reach would risk his operations for one man, but then again… that's not just any man."
Hugo too had a look over. Fallon and Vincent were having their drinks in silence.
"Never hurts to be careful," the captain said, agreeing with Neil. He was continuously looking for any telepathic links between the two but could not find any. They were merely having drinks, donuts, and sandwiches.
Hugo looked at his team. "This guy is the definition of an opportunist. When the world was reeling with the Ambris debacle, this son of a gun was buying Cultist properties like mad. He inherited a sizable empire from his late father in the early '90s, but the way he has expanded in the last 10 to 15 years is just ridiculous. So, I'd be careful around him anyway. And yes. Like you said, Vincent is no common rogue bounty hunter."
After a pause, the Zaatsu smiled and added, "However… I am gonna have that cup of tea, if you guys don't mind."
The trio looked at each other, then followed their captain to the sofas where they all sat with the entrepreneur and the bounty hunter.
"Jol-ly good, folks!" said Fallon leaning ahead with a big smile on his face. "What can we get you guys? Hey, girl!" He snapped his fingers at the assistant. "Give them some tea and stuff… serve lady, serve!"
The group was served tea, biscuits, cake pieces, and sandwiches.
"Hey, Baylis," the rich man said, placing his wineglass down. "Last I saw you, you were with those Outsiders."
Vincent chuckled. The Zeta Squad looked at their captain and stared for a few moments.
"What?" asked Fallon, looking around. "Am I thinking of someone else here? You are Baylis, right? You used to come to our establishments with the Outsiders collecting protection. Haven't seen you in a while."
With a shake of the head, the Zaatsu said, "I worked at outposts for the Eye and was on tax collecting duty for quite some time. That's where you know me from."
"Ah, I see, I see. It's just that collectors of your particular kind are always people of interest… if you know my meaning. So!" He leaned back and stretched. "How've you been? Heard you got divorced?"
As a few looks went around, the entrepreneur continued. "Harsh what them Eye folks did to some of those Cults… Blah!"
Gina looked at Camille and Neil who were both staring at Hugo. But the captain kept looking at his teacup.
Eventually, he took a deep breath and leaned back. Looking at Fallon, he said, "Cults played their part and got what was coming. There was nothing anyone could've done."
Camille subtly shook her head. 'Yeah, as if one of the most respected Zaatsu has no say in anything,' she thought. 'She was your wife...'
"What needed to be done was done," Hugo continued. "No one challenged the council's orders because there was nothing to challenge."
Under her breath, Camille whispered, "Never hurt to try for someone who loved you… or someone you loved..."
Fallon looked at the Sokidu and asked, "What'd you say, love?"
Neil, looking at Camille, smiled and whispered, "Not his forte…"
A man with a perfect track record, Hugo Baylis was an exemplary operative of the Eye. He was a smart, talented, and hardworking man. But his personal relationships painted a different picture.
The Zaatsu's ex-wife was from a Cult which was reprimanded for their failure to act against Ambris in accordance with the Eye's wishes. Her father, the chief of the Cult, pleaded his case in front of the Parliament, but his voice was never heard. So, obviously he went to his son-in-law – Hugo Baylis. But in spite of their relationship, the Zaatsu refused to help them. And in the end, the Cult was handed heavy fines and was sanctioned.
"Knock it off, you guys," Hugo said then took another sip.
"Their business permits were revoked," said Fallon, staring at the Zaatsu, "and they had to buy new ones. Their people were banned from practicing wizardry for five years and many members of their chiefs' council were sent to the Atramentum."
The captain shook his head. "My duty comes first," he slowly said. "Had we started pardoning everyone we knew, things would not have stabilised as quickly."
Camille and Neil smiled at each other but did not say anything further.
"Yay for the stability," said Fallon looking up at the ceiling. "Did not know it was here."
Hugo leaned back in his chair and brought a leg atop the other. "But tell me, Fallon," he said. "When did you employ Mr White Bolt here?"
The entrepreneur laughed. "If I tell you that, I'd have to kill you." He then looked at Hugo and added, "Bounty-hunter, client privilege… CHA!"
His loud quirk shocked everyone once again. Almost spilling tea over, Gina said, "Would you cut that out!"
Some shouting erupted outside the room.
Fallon raised his glass, smiling. "And I believe that would be Popeye protesting his invitation… CHA!"