Message-ID: <6cd3114c.358ac531@aol.com> Date: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 16:08:15 EDT From: Maryilee@aol.com Subject: "And Then There Were Two" Part 9 Chapter 9 "So? Did you guys do what I ordered?" Derrick hung his head glancing at Marshall, mumbling, "No, Mr. Franklin, but we hurt him pretty bad. I think he got the message." The trio was standing behind a rundown apartment complex. Some of the windows had no glass, and were merely boarded over. Garbage was strewn throughout the muddy yard. Old tires were stacked haphazardly against a dilapidated shed. Franklin shook his head in disgust. "I gave you guys a few simple jobs, for which I intended to pay you well. What do I get?" He reached out and smacked Darrell across the head. He leaned forward, his face only inches from Darrell's. "You better have a damn good reason for botching it this time, or I'm going to put a hit out on you two." Derrick and Marshall exchanged looks, fright in their eyes. They knew Franklin, and had no doubt that he would do what he threatened. Finally, Marshall spoke up, his voice defensive. "It was the same guy again, Mr.Franklin. Only this time, he brought a friend." Derrick nodded, corroborating Marshall's version of what happened. "Damn!" Franklin swore, "How does this guy know?" He cursed again. "I've got to do something. That prick Herrara isn't going to stop harassing me until he's dead. I'm going to lose a lot of money if the damn building inspectors are called in again." His rage building at the unfairness of it, he lashed out again at Derrick, catching him square in the jaw. "I want Herrara dead." He hissed. "If he reports anymore of my buildings to the city, I'm going to be fined thousands of dollars, and on top of that, be forced to make repairs on these fire traps to the tune of thousands more. That's not going to happen if I can help it. I didn't destroy these buildings. Careless tenants did, and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend one cent of my money fixing them up, just so you guys can tear them apart again." John Franklin seethed. He had worked hard to buy these buildings, and no do-gooder going to spoil it for him. "Listen, and listen well." Franklin grabbed Marshall by the hair, dragging him close, "I want you to find out who this guy is who keeps saving Herrara and the others. I want him dead." He released Marshall and pushed him away. Marshall rubbed his head, fear in his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a wallet and handed to Franklin. Franklin took it. "What's this?" Marshall's chin came up a notch, a note of pride in his voice. "I took it from the guy." A slow smile played across Franklin's face. He pulled out the driver's license. "Well, boys, it looks like you two are going to have to pay Mr. Gary Hobson a visit tomorrow night." His smile vanished, "And this time, if you screw it up, I'll kill you." ********************* Gary eyed Chuck warily as his friend approached. He had never seen Chuck look so serious. Gary leaned back into the couch, putting a little distance between himself, and Chuck who was now sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his eyes boring into Gary's. Gary shifted, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. If this was a gag to scare Gary, it was working he admitted. He had never felt afraid of Chuck in his entire life. Angry and annoyed, sure, plenty of times, but never this heart-pounding fear. But even as his heart hammered in his chest, Gary realized it wasn't that he was afraid that Chuck would physically attack him. In fact, it was more a fear for Chuck. Fear that his best friend had lost his mind. "Gary, tomorrow night, someone is going to kill you. You have to stay out of the alley behind here. That's where your body is found." Gary felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Then he became angry. Angrier than he had ever been in his life. He jumped up, ignoring the pain from his bruised ribs. "All right, Chuck, this has gone far enough! You're trying to scare me, right?" Gary strode to the door, holding it open. "Well, you've succeeded. Are you happy?" Chuck rose, sadly shaking his head. "I'm not making this up, Gary." Gary motioned Chuck out of his room; his mouth set in a firm line. He couldn't believe that Chuck would stoop this low. "Yeah, well, when you have proof that you're someone named Sam Beckett, then maybe we can talk about it." Chuck slowly shuffled towards the door, stopping just inside the room, "I shouldn't have told you, I guess. If weren't in the middle of this mess, I wouldn't believe it myself. I guess I thought you of all people, might believe me." "What do you mean, *me* 'of all people'?" Gary asked defensively. Chuck shrugged. "I just thought that with the paper and all, that you would understand." Chuck paused, his eyes pleading. Gary had to admit; he had never heard Chuck talk like this. There was a sadness in his eyes that never been there before. Gary blinked, for just a moment; Chuck's blue eyes had appeared green. Must have been that blow to his head he took earlier, Gary rationalized, giving his head a little shake. He felt the anger drain out of him. Chuck walked through the door, turning to look back, looking as though he wanted to say something. Gary raised his hand to stop him, "Chuck, I'm tired. I'm not thinking clearly, and I think it's just best if you left now." Chuck raised his chin a notch, nodding. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Gary nodded, and slowly shut the door. Morning arrived all too soon. Gary winced as he rolled out of bed, shuffling hunched over like an old man, to the door. His muscles had stiffened, and he felt every scrape and bruise. Before he got the paper, before he had coffee, before he did anything else, he was going to take a long, hot shower. "Meow." Gary rolled his eyes. "I don't care what you say. I'm taking a hot shower, and I gonna stay in it 'til the water runs cold, got it?" The cat meowed insistently. "Fine. I'll take a quick look at the paper, but I'm telling you, I'm not gonna be any good today unless I can work out some of these kinks." Gary held his ribs and tried to straighten up, gritting his teeth against the soreness. Not feeling up to leaning over to pick up the paper outside his door, Gary just used his foot to push the paper inside. He pushed it next to the chair, and glanced down at the front page. He grinned triumphantly at the cat. "Ha! See? There isn't anything on the front page-" He glanced back at the paper when he felt a light wind rush across his feet. How did the cat always *do* that? The paper had fluttered open to the national news briefs. A small article caught Gary's eye. The headline read, "Governor of New Mexico Fights Proposed Federal Budget Cuts." Gary reached down, grimacing at the movement, and picked up the paper. It seemed that the Governor of New Mexico wasn't happy about budget cuts aimed at federal projects based in New Mexico. "New Mexico needs these projects. The people rely on the projects for jobs, and for the money that they generate through higher spending by the employees. A dozen years ago, Washington cut funding for the Star Bright Project. That project had brought many of the world's most brilliant scientists to our state, including Nobel Prize winner, Dr.Samuel Beckett. Our schools and the children benefited. Now that the project is gone, the town is practically deserted." The article went on, but Gary didn't notice. "Dr. Samuel Beckett?" Gary whispered.