She sat quiet and Woodrow wasted no time saying...

“Now that we’ve established that point--there will be no more discussion on the matter of death because Morpheus has given us our way out.  And as for Andrew...we will do what we can...until we can do no more.”

Woodrow gaged the tone of the room, because this next point would come at a cost to them all.  He would say this because Berta and George had exposed a crack; and there could be no pulling away.  In the old days, they would each clip off a portion of their finger, vowing their allegiance to the day of their death.  Soon after that, the cry for loyalty was demonstrated in more painful ways.  Yes--Woodrow had known the death of someone close.  He’d known because he’d arranged it.

When he spoke, his voice sounded its weakest.

He said...

“I get no satisfaction out of this but--I see no other way.  There are those among us who are not sympathetic and you do not understand the cost of human life.  As Eliza stated...we are not murderers.  We make adjustments.  When Andrew lost little Amy--he needed to make an adjustment to right a wrong.  If you cannot grasp the reasoning behind his actions, then I say to you, share his pain.  Let us kill someone close to you--then you tell me if you don’t hunger for the taste of vengeance.”

Woodrow stared at them, because his words were not an idle threat.  Killing was a way of balancing the world and no one understood this more than Morpheus.  They sat quiet until Woodrow said...

“It is agreed.  Morpheus will continue on a course that will balance the scales; he will sever the connection or make the problem go away.  That is the solution.  Are we all in agreement?”

Six ays were heard, then Woodrow added his vote.

“Ay.  Now...we have much to do but when we return, the issue concerning Tollin must be resolved.  There can be no dangling strings.  You have the authority to do away with whomever stands in our way.  And Morpheus...if worst comes to worst”

Woodrow stared at him with knowing eyes...

“Do what you must.  Do whatever you believe will balance the scales.  We all understand the cost.  Be well my friend.”

Of course they understood the cost because even though they had not mentioned his name, they all knew about Joplin and his connection to Raal.  They knew because Morpheus had felt bound to tell them.  The irony was that he valued his allegiance to this group of people more than his love for his family.  He didn’t do this because of a flaw in his character.  He did this because that’s the price he’d paid to be a member of this group; and that’s what his father had expressed to him on the day that he’d stepped down, offering Morpheus his seat.  He’d been honored to have been chosen by his father, especially after the fiasco involving his sister.  When Morpheus stood in his father’s place, he’d vowed to protect the group over anything else.  That explained his reason for telling them about Joplin and Raal but this fact didn’t change his regrets and now, Raal and Joplin may never know the other.  If Morpheus couldn’t fix this, someone would have to pay the price--and right now, Joplin was as good as dead.  He pushed that thought aside because regardless of how he felt, nothing else mattered.  Morpheus had to seal this leak, and if he didn’t, more than a few people would end up dying.  He considered the names, and he didn’t give a rats ass about the Delors, the Pettier’s or any of the other nuts who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.  He would cut them down himself if it came to it.  When he considered Berta’s comment regarding Andrew, and her suggestion that perhaps they should reconsider being his silent backers; he’d never cared for her, and they rarely agreed on a single point; but as for dumping Andrew--on that point, he had to agree.  At the time, he hadn’t shared his opinion because tradition was tradition, and the group held firm to certain beliefs.  Andrew Wilcox had been chosen because he’d agreed to be a puppet president.  He’d agreed to govern the country in whatever manner the group thought would be best.  Most politician’s were corrupt by nature, but only a few were soulless.  Andrew was a rare breed, and he’d sold his soul to the group; they owned him, and there in lied their devotion.  At this late date in the game, dumping Andrew would amount to colossal failures, and two year’s worth of work, flushed down the crapper.  It would mean that the governor would become one of those dangling strings that Woodrow had alluded to.  One of those strings that would have to be cut, because it had frayed from the central purpose of the group.  In other words; the second Andrew was no longer relevant to the furthering of their cause, there would be no need to keep him alive.  To protect the secrecy of the group, Andrew Wilcox would be permanently silenced.

Morpheus summed up his mental list of names, and he didn’t blink when he added Andrew’s name at the bottom.  He wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep if for some unforeseen reason, Andrew’s heart suddenly stopped; but Joplin--now that would keep him up at night.  He studied the notion, rolling the answers in his head; not liking his choices.  There had to be another way.  There had to be one person so important that, killing them would silence all others.  It might even send the nosy warts in a completely different direction; making Tollin’s questionable death old news.   Morpheus couldn’t free himself from one unmistakable truth.  Who had been the initiator.  Who had fired the first shot.  Who had made the first move, forcing wheels in motion that had once sat idle.  He had the answer...and when all was said and done, he would live with his decision.  He just hoped that the others would agree with the way he planned to work this out.

When Morpheus returned to his plane, he couldn’t recall leaving the conference area on the larger plane.  He sat down, and he heard Olga when she said...

“May I offer you something?”

“Privacy.”  was all that he said...

Olga knew not to reply because most times, these meetings were to blame for his sour moods.  He was deep in thought, and he didn’t hear the roar of the planes as they took their turns, flying off in different directions.  When his plane took flight, Morpheus had an idea in his mind.  A notion that just might work; and the idea would serve the bastard right.  He couldn’t believe that he’d not thought about this earlier.

“No matter...”  he said to himself.  “I’ve thought of it now.”

He fished out his mobile, and he scrolled to a secure site on the internet where he kept a number of encrypted files.  He opened the one entitled, ‘Paddox’, then he ran it through a number of virus scans, before finally opening it.  When he’d found what he’d been looking for, he followed a series of sequences, virus checks, and scans, before closing out the file.  Then he covered his tracks by emptying his cache and deleting the search history on his phone.  In his line of work, it paid to be over cautious and his paranoia wasn’t an illness.  He dialed the number, then he sat back in his seat.  After four rings, the person answered.

“Hello.”  Hearing this voice was like listening to his brother Raal, answering on the other end.  Morpheus erased this comparison because he couldn’t mess this up.  Now was not the time for teary reminisce’s, recalling when he’d first learned about him.

Morpheus spoke in an official tone.

“You don’t know me...but I am well acquainted with you.”

“Oh really.”  Joplin said...and he didn’t like the tone of this call.  His spidy antennae had picked up a disturbing frequency in this callers voice.

Morpheus said...

“We have a mutual friend.  Claudette.  But--when I knew her, her last name wasn’t Paddox.  She’d been known as Claudette Dune.”

Joplin thought about the last time that he’d seen his mother.  He said...