had helped him build this empire of crime.
And inside his head he kept hearing someone laughing.
Someone who wanted to come and take everything he had built.
He was not going to let that happen.
Not today, not ever.
It was time to check on one more detail.
Toole stopped pacing, yanked out his big leather chair, and dropped down into it. Stabbing his cigar out like he was crushing an insect with it, he glared up at Kyle. ‘ ‘Report to me every thirty minutes on the status of security around the building,” Toole said. “Now get out of here.”
Kyle only nodded and turned away.
Toole watched him go. It was Kyle’s job to make sure no one could get in, and Toole trusted him to do it. And Kyle was very good at his job. Maybe even the best. But in this circumstance, Toole wanted to be informed all the time. After all, it was his life and his empire that was at risk.
Toole waited until Kyle snapped the door closed, then Toole flipped a switch, locking the door and electronically
blocking all snooping devices. Then he sprang back to his feet and moved to the bar near the window. He could use a drink right about now, but didn’t dare. He wouldn’t drink until this was over.
In quick succession, he picked up and put down six different bottles on three shelves. As the last bottle was replaced, a slight click echoed through the large room and a small panel on the ornate wooden front of his desk opened wide.
Behind the panel was a small safe.
Toole moved three more bottles in succession, disarming an alarm system and explosive booby-trap that would instantly kill anyone who touched the safe while it was still activated.
Kneeling in front of the desk, he spun the dial to the correct combination and opened the safe, doing something he hadn’t dared do all night.
Inside was a small leather pouch. He pulled it out and felt the reassuring weight inside.
As a construction worker doing a housing job outside of New Orleans, he’d stumbled on a large green stone buried in the mud. That day he’d been feeling hung over and a headache had been pounding at him for most of the hot afternoon. But the minute he touched the stone, his headache vanished and he felt stronger and more alive than he had in years.
He pocketed the stone without telling anyone and went back to work. A few days later, he started having ideas that got him thinking beyond just drinking and working construction. And since he’d touched the stone he felt great, had plenty of energy, and didn’t much need sleep.
Five years later, he stood on the verge of taking over all of New Orleans.
He slid the gem out of the bag and held it in his hands. Normally, the feeling of strength he got from the stone would be enforced by touching it, and he had spent many a night just sitting at his desk holding the emerald.
But this time the touch of the stone was almost hot, and he dropped it at once.
Inside his head he heard the laughing again. And the words, I’m coming.
He picked the stone back up and put it in its pouch. He tossed it back into the safe and snapped the door shut, then closed the panel over it.
With a quick step back to the bar he armed the safe again.
Then, taking a deep breath he turned to the air and spoke to the voice in his head.
“Come and get me,” Toole said, his voice muffled in the big room. “If you think you can.”
The only reply was the faint impression of someone laughing.
Robert Service had spent the night sitting on the couch in his office, staring at the large emerald laying on the coffee table in front of him.
And laughing.
For some reason the joy of the emerald’s power just made him laugh. He’d never laughed much before, tending to take life more seriously, as his father had beat into him to do. But suddenly ending up with the power from the emerald had caused him to just laugh at the world and the wonderful luck he’d been handed by the man he hated.
How ironic it was.
And how funny.
After leaving his father
And inside his head he kept hearing someone laughing.
Someone who wanted to come and take everything he had built.
He was not going to let that happen.
Not today, not ever.
It was time to check on one more detail.
Toole stopped pacing, yanked out his big leather chair, and dropped down into it. Stabbing his cigar out like he was crushing an insect with it, he glared up at Kyle. ‘ ‘Report to me every thirty minutes on the status of security around the building,” Toole said. “Now get out of here.”
Kyle only nodded and turned away.
Toole watched him go. It was Kyle’s job to make sure no one could get in, and Toole trusted him to do it. And Kyle was very good at his job. Maybe even the best. But in this circumstance, Toole wanted to be informed all the time. After all, it was his life and his empire that was at risk.
Toole waited until Kyle snapped the door closed, then Toole flipped a switch, locking the door and electronically
blocking all snooping devices. Then he sprang back to his feet and moved to the bar near the window. He could use a drink right about now, but didn’t dare. He wouldn’t drink until this was over.
In quick succession, he picked up and put down six different bottles on three shelves. As the last bottle was replaced, a slight click echoed through the large room and a small panel on the ornate wooden front of his desk opened wide.
Behind the panel was a small safe.
Toole moved three more bottles in succession, disarming an alarm system and explosive booby-trap that would instantly kill anyone who touched the safe while it was still activated.
Kneeling in front of the desk, he spun the dial to the correct combination and opened the safe, doing something he hadn’t dared do all night.
Inside was a small leather pouch. He pulled it out and felt the reassuring weight inside.
As a construction worker doing a housing job outside of New Orleans, he’d stumbled on a large green stone buried in the mud. That day he’d been feeling hung over and a headache had been pounding at him for most of the hot afternoon. But the minute he touched the stone, his headache vanished and he felt stronger and more alive than he had in years.
He pocketed the stone without telling anyone and went back to work. A few days later, he started having ideas that got him thinking beyond just drinking and working construction. And since he’d touched the stone he felt great, had plenty of energy, and didn’t much need sleep.
Five years later, he stood on the verge of taking over all of New Orleans.
He slid the gem out of the bag and held it in his hands. Normally, the feeling of strength he got from the stone would be enforced by touching it, and he had spent many a night just sitting at his desk holding the emerald.
But this time the touch of the stone was almost hot, and he dropped it at once.
Inside his head he heard the laughing again. And the words, I’m coming.
He picked the stone back up and put it in its pouch. He tossed it back into the safe and snapped the door shut, then closed the panel over it.
With a quick step back to the bar he armed the safe again.
Then, taking a deep breath he turned to the air and spoke to the voice in his head.
“Come and get me,” Toole said, his voice muffled in the big room. “If you think you can.”
The only reply was the faint impression of someone laughing.
Robert Service had spent the night sitting on the couch in his office, staring at the large emerald laying on the coffee table in front of him.
And laughing.
For some reason the joy of the emerald’s power just made him laugh. He’d never laughed much before, tending to take life more seriously, as his father had beat into him to do. But suddenly ending up with the power from the emerald had caused him to just laugh at the world and the wonderful luck he’d been handed by the man he hated.
How ironic it was.
And how funny.
After leaving his father
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