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They took Cheryl's car - like Scott's truck it was old but either restored or well-preserved. A Ford Taurus from the early 1990s, with a wash and wax it would look showroom new. Except for the tires - he doubted many garden-variety sedans had those high-end Michelins. The interior was as new as the outside but as dusty as most cars were between details, a Kleenex container and hand sanitizer pads in the console, an umbrella in the back seat gave it a casual look of a daily driver for an ordinary person. He got in the back and Cheryl drove while Warren appeared to be texting with a small tablet. It was a short drive from their house in Carriage Hills - a near the top end neighborhood - across town to a mid-range one. The houses and lots were large and new cars - often several to a house - were new and upscale but here and there vehicles with advertising wraps for various businesses were in the driveways. Construction and related businesses such as electrical and plumbing - Warren remembered that when he went away it was common for plumbers and electricians who owned small businesses often lived next door to rich lawyers and doctors and bankers - he had been clearing over a million a year on his security business. Another thing they owe me for. At least I got a couple hundred thousand in gold if it hasn't been found. A couple hundred thousand seven years ago - have to check on that. If it's still there. Most of the houses had fences or walls and the one Cheryl stopped at had a stone wall enclosing about an acre. It even had a gatehouse and a couple of young men came out. Cheryl lowered the window. "Good morning, Mrs. Allison, Scott. We were advised to expect a Warren Clark to be with you. How was your trip?" "Pleasant enough," Cheryl replied. "Except for the herd of cattle in the road at Cherry Valley." "Probably old man Collier's," the man replied. "I'll have someone call him. Go on up, you're expected." What cattle? Some kind of password? Both men, probably in their late twenties or possibly early thirties, had the look of recent ex-military or law enforcement. As they passed through the gate he noticed that it was heavily built and the the drive turned sharply about thirty feet inside and a high berm prevented vehicles from continuing straight ahead. Several vehicles were parked on the concrete drive outside the three-car garage and Cheryl slid the Taurus in behind a early generation Lincoln Navigator - it looked as new as the Taurus. He followed Scott and Cheryl as towards the house. They were met halfway by a small group. An older man an woman, probably in their sixties of early seventies - it was hard to tell. Two younger people who looked to be in their thirties - a man who looked like Chuck Norris at thirty and a woman who looked familiar. Two men who looked like the gate guards but in more casual dress stood a discreet distance away. "Warren," Cheryl said, "Marian and Luther Simmons, Charles and Jessica. Do you remember Jessica? Guy that looks like Chuck Norris is named Charles. This is... why would I remember Jessica?" "Jessica works for Barrett and Ferguson," Luther said. The trial. Jessica the PI that got the receipts for all the good it did. "Yeah, I remember. Thanks for trying." Jessica came over close, tentatively touched his arm. "It's all right," he said. "You tried." "I know...," she said, "I can't know what you went through. It was bad enough seeing evil win any time but..." "It's all right," Warren replied. "That part is over. The only people I need to remember are the ones who did it." "You may get that opportunity," she replied. "But for now see what the world... our part of the world, has been up to. Come on." Jessica and Charles don't act like they're married, or in a relationship or whatever. Her brother? They entered the house, a butler resembling Alfred Pennyworth opened the doors and retired after they had entered. Chuck Norris and Batman's Butler. And... guess I'll see what else happens. They were in a large vaulted room, probably twenty by thirty. A huge oriental rug covered almost the entire floor and the oonly furnishing was a group of chairs and a pair of couches around a large cocktail table. They assumed seats with Warren waiting until the others were seated. The nearest chair was a recliner next to the one Jessica had taken and he sat down. The butler reappeared. "Refreshments will arrive shortly," he said. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" Warren guessed that Scott and Cheryl were reasonably well acquainted with the Simmons' as Marian gave them only a brief glance before saying "no". Alfred as Warren had decided to call him until he knew his name retired again. "Warren," Luther said, "Scott and Cheryl have probably given you a quickie overview. If we had been able to contact you in prison - we tried a few times but.... "I didn't want any contact," Warren replied. "I suppose if I had thought anyone cared... but it is what is." "What it is," Luther said, "is that what happened to you was one of the last straws for some of us. Marian and I were already in a group of people who had for years sat around and talked about it but... at any rate we became serious. You'll learn more as time goes by but I'll give you a brief sketch. As soon as we get our drinks." A young man and woman had entered pushing a serving cart. A large one with a complete bar. The woman - probably in her early twenties and looking suspiciously similar to the man with black hair and dusky or well tanned skin and the same height and build - addressed him first. "What will you have, Warren? We have Jack Daniels, Wild Turkey and Old Forester in whiskey, Carlsberg, Stella and Heinekin in beer." "Heinekin is good," Warren replied. Drinking whiskey among strangers, no matter how supposedly friendly, might not be smart. The young man uncapped a Heinekin and wrapped a napkin around it and handed it to him. Cheryl and Scott had Wild Turkey and coke, Jessica had one of the whiskeys - he wasn't watching closely - and Coke. Charles had whiskey and coke and Marian had wine while Luther had a rather large whiskey on the rocks. The pair pushed the cart over against a wall and disappeared. "Mark and Maryanne Taylor," Luther said. "Twins if you hadn't guessed. Their family is part of our organization and they help out here with social functions among other things. Reginald Cunningham is our majordomo. All personnel here are part of the organization, even apparent servants such as butlers or maintenance people. "Scott indicated that you were interested in... shall we say righting wrongs. That is something we do but we are more interested in preventing more wrongs. And sometimes the two end up being the same. I take it you haven't kept up with what has gone on while you were out of action." "None at all," Warren replied. "I didn't watch television or have a computer. I figured when I got out I would see what I could do." "What did you figure on doing?" asked Luther. "Kill some people," Warren replied. "Slowly if I had the time. Is that a problem?" "None at all," Luther replied. "We do need to be efficient though, the mission is most important. Any extraenous activity that hinders or endangers the mission is out." "At this point," Warren said, "I'm along for the ride." "Sounds good," Luther said. "Let's go upstairs and I'll show you some things you may find interesting."
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