4-1-1: Where Are Our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 1 of 9, Page 3

Serena’s wishes in particular. But that didn’t take any of the sting out of learning that many innocent, beautiful children were killed by his hand…and then to make matters worse, Serena addressing him by that terrible name.

  We’re okay, for now, Louis. A voice inside of him said; a voice far too familiar for his liking, a voice that he’d hope never to hear again. At least we know exactly where we stand with the others especially that bitch Serena. We take care of our own. We are here for us, Louis. We won’t let anyone hurt us again.

  And we will kill anyone who tries.

  The Dragon must have been watching over Serena, because she had her sixth sense working and felt a sense of danger emerging in the night’s chill. Nonchalantly, she slid smoothly between Rohm and the other two agents, while they all conversed.

  There is a human sense of comfort and relative safety when you are sheltered under the umbrella of company and fellowship.

  Even Serena Tennyson knew this to be true.

  Serena

  Serena Tennyson’s knees ached as she rose to her feet after she’d finished her prayer. Damn these knees, she’d struggled with bouts of arthritis, tendonitis, and inflammation in both of them since she’d turned 40. And the miles that she’d accumulated with her runs over the past six months of getting back into shape, had stressed them beyond any training she’d done before. Yet, Keaton’s success is a major step forward toward our ultimate goals. My turn comes soon. I must be ready. I will be ready.

  Still, while the irony that Pandora’s founder, The Caretaker, had assigned her the field name of Oracle because of her gifts, yet her pediatrician from all of those years ago, and had rightly predicted the degenerative failing of her health from knee down when she reached middle age hadn’t sat well with her.

  What she once would categorize as no more than a mere nuisance, was rapidly shifting into something far more serious. She could only hope that the knee replacement that that same doctor had predicted would hold off for at least a few years longer.

  She toweled her forehead off, fighting chills. Serena’s body left her in the odd position of both warming up and rapidly cooling down after her run when her group had disbanded after her conversation with Keaton. In the past this sensation had caused her to feel anxious. She took another long pull of the water even after her initial thirst had been quenched. It was set at room temperature and she downed half a bottle easily down her throat. Her hydration would be critical over the next few days. She was a lifetime removed from being 17, and a three time state champion defending marathon runner.

  It is time to concentrate on more immediate things. Serena tossed a hand full of sacred sand into the flames into her hotel room’s fireplace. The flames responded by rising as they had always had before. When she was on her knees, she’d asked the human god to spare as many lives as possible as 411 now had been enacted with Keaton’s attack on the Andrew Young Center now was two hours old. She’d prayed a Christian prayer, and the followed it up with the same appeal in Islam. She’d studied both religions as well as dozens of others for a general understanding and some…entertainment they often provided her. She didn’t believe that any of these superstitions had any true substance at their core—of course not—but she felt it was necessary to honor the fallen…and those who were still to fall in the tongue of their own faith.

  She was loyal to the calling of the Dragon.

  And in the Dragon’s inferno, Serena saw all of the vision, clarity, and sense of purpose she deemed necessary.

  She was no longer alone in this room—

  “Speak your mind, Rohm,” Serena said without turning away from the Dragon’s flames. “Speak your mind or leave me in peace.”

  Rohm cleared her throat. “If you have a moment to spare, I’d like to speak to you about Louis Keaton.”

  “What about him?”

  “You’ve done a masterful job with him, Serena.”

  Serena finally spun away from the fire. “And you came to this conclusion all by yourself, Rohm.” Serena didn’t attempt to strike the sarcasm from her tone. She’d never had much use for professional assassins; even this highly recommended killer who murdered on demand, yet looked the part of a high school senior. Anyone with training could be a cold calculated shooter. Serena admired those who were far more intimate and personal with their murdering. “How wonderful for you, Rohm, I’m impressed. You’re future in this organization certainly is very bright.”

  If Rohm had been embarrassed or even angered by Serena’s tirade she didn’t express it on her pale face. And in truth, that only angered Serena further.

  “May I speak freely, Serena?”

  Now this should be interesting. “This is still America, Rohm, and you haven’t been drafted. Say what you will.”

  Rohm cleared her throat again. This child is serious.

  “There are more than an a few agents in important positions within our group who are…apprehensive about Louis’ further participation in our plans.

  “Really,” Serena asked in a serious tone. Many of these men and women who served the cause of the Caretaker had come from all fields of service in this country: Some were former and other current military, secret service, FBI, CIA, and other professionals who joined Pandora in droves and now had been placed under her command. How others measured her skills in handling Louis Keaton had honestly never crossed her mind. But perhaps it should have? “What do you think, Rohm?” Serena wanted to know.

  Considering how Serena had treated Rohm since she’d entered the room, in addition to the one sided chat she had with her for interrupting her conversation with Keaton back on the street, there was little wonder to why the woman dressed in black hesitated to answer her now.

  Serena unfolded her arms and relaxed her stance as to not appear confrontational. “Talk to me, Danielle. I want to know what you are thinking.”

  “Alright,” Rohm said. “I’ll be perfectly honest, Serena, I wasn’t convinced Louis Keaton would able to hold his emotions in check long enough to complete tonight’s assignment, even if he wasn’t aware of every minute detail.” She added “I wasn’t convinced until he stood up to you both before and after your comment about needing Hugh to take the lead for his upcoming responsibilities.”

  “That little detail changed your mind?”

  “Actually, Serena, you changed it?”

  “Me? How do you mean?”

  Rohm seemed to relax a little, letting her guard down. “You’ve been giving him strenuous mental exercises over the past few months. You’ve been building up his poise from the inside out, boosting his confidence. Tonight served as a marker for you…and for him on his progress.” Rohm eyed one of the plush couches that populated the Bank of America Hotel and Suites living area in this room. Serena could never get comfortable on the damn thing. In fact, other than the fireplace and the piano, she neither had little use nor desire for such luxuries.

  “Please Rohm, sit down.”

  “Thank you.”

  Serena beckoned the other woman to continue.

  Rohm crossed her leg, exposing her pistol for Serena to see it in its full glory. “I’m guessing that tonight was very important to see how much growth Louis had actually experienced. Your ultimate expectation of him will likely drain him both mentally, physically, and especially emotionally. If I know you like I think I do, you likely have one or two more tasks for him to complete before he is to…begin his work as you say.”

  Serena planted her butt on the arm of the loveseat next to Rohm.

  “Damn. I’m impressed.” And she was. “You’ve hit on all of the finer points, Danielle. Every accomplishment aids in him building a solid psychological foundation and more importantly, drives a caged Hugh to the surface.”

  “I have every confidence that you both will succeed.”

  Both women drink in the silence of the next minute. Rohm had earned Serena’s respect tonight, if only a begrudging one. Rohm had a deeper intellect than just that of a cold hearted killer. The grown
woman with an adolescent’s body was marinating in those good feelings. Serena thought she noticed an eyebrow cock with an unasked question on the younger woman’s face.

  “You want to ask me something,” Serena said. “Perhaps you want to share another observation?”

  “I’m not sure if I want to tear down the goodwill we’ve built tonight, Serena. I’m not interested in embarrassing you.”

  “Go ahead, Danielle,” Serena said. “It’s alright. I promise to keep an open mind.”

  “Okay,” Rohm hesitated, and then seemed to find her voice again. “I was standing here in the doorway a lot longer than when you finally felt my presence. I saw you…praying.”

  Serena stood up again, as tall as her thin frame allowed in defiance, but this attempt at toughness was empty, because she felt her cheeks flushing. Hard is what her associates called her—in hushed voices not as well out of hearing as they’d might of thought, of course—and hard she was.

  “I was.” Serena explained her point on respecting her enemy’s religion even if she obviously didn’t share that faith. When she had finished she said, “Does my position upset you in any way?”

  “No, Serena, of course not,” Rohm answered quickly and reached her shooter’s hand down into her blouse pulling…a gold cross out from beneath her tiny breast. I’m a devout Christian. I love our God.”

  “You’re a Christian?”

  Rohm let out a giggle, “Don’t