A Family Business

By Oscar Silver

Book three of the Hobbs and Henry Saga finds our PI's on a special secret mission for The Director.

 

The global reach of The Corps is explored, as The Director assigns Hobbs a very special and persona

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oscar Silver Publishing
• Release date: Jan 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781734114751

Book preview

Prologue

Janus (as Henry was known in those days) appreciated the mild climate of Rome. He hadn't been here since the bloody end of Julius Caesar nearly a millennium ago. But now it was Christmas Day in the year 800 by the Julian calendar. Soft warm breezes blew through the streets of the ancient city. The snow and cold of his human’s homeland were nowhere to be seen along the shores of the Tiber.

Once again, Janus was to be the silent counsel of an emperor. He quietly observed as Charlemagne was dressed in the finest Royal garb his weavers and fitters had created. The emperor-to-be wore layers of jeweled necklaces. Each of his fingers was ringed with baubles of gold, silver, and a profusion of precious stones.

He waved his dressers away and stood for a long moment, studying his reflection in the gold-framed mirror. Janus had to laugh (or what passed for a laugh for his kind) as the soon-to-be-Emperor Charlemagne struck pose after pose. He took the Imperial Crown off the nearby table and placed it on his balding grey head. More poses, until he announced himself ready for the Pope.

He gave the crown to his body man to bring to His Holiness.

Charlemagne had the good sense not to wear it before the Pope placed it on his head. Janus exhaled a sigh of relief. This human had an ego the size of Capri.

King Charlemagne strode regally out of the dressing room to an audible gasp from the assembled churchmen. His nobles, separated from the clergy by the aisle Charlemagne now commanded, all kept their heads bowed until their Lord and Master passed.

Janus, who kept his place (unseen of course) on his humans' shoulder, hoped the Pope wasn't going to withhold the Imperial grown in an act of spite for having been shown up by a Francish pretender.

Charlemagne continued his slow stroll to the altar where the Pope stood.

Remember to bow, Janus whispered.

In all the years he'd known him, his human had never bent his knee to anyone.

Charlemagne gave a nearly imperceptible nod of his head.

He now stood, for what seemed forever, in front of the Vicar of Christ. The silence in the Church hung like a huge woolen tapestry. Janus could hear all the assembly holding their breath, waiting to see if the supreme warrior was going to bow to the authority of the Church, even if the reward was the title of emperor.

You've proved your point. Get on your knees.

Janus didn't often scold his human, but the man was pushing it.

Charlemagne looked up into the eyes of the Pope. They were seething dark pools of anger.

The Pope didn't take this kind of insult from anyone.

The King of the Franks bowed his head and went down on both knees.

When he stood, he was the Emperor Charlemagne.

Janus hoped this would temper the Committee’s anger over his role in the murder of his human’s brother, Carolman. It had been a skilled political murder that allowed this day to be unsullied by the confusion of co-Kings of the Francs.

The emperor turned his back to the Pope; being a consecrated emperor, did have its privileges. Charlemagne coolly acknowledged the cheers of his nobles and noted those that remained silent.

The nobles knew they had just been promoted, too.

Those that the emperor allowed to live, of course.

With the blessing of the Church, Charlemagne could do what he wanted.

And he had the army to back him up.

Janus would report his success to the committee while Charlemagne and his horde drank themselves silly.

Janus hoped with all his might that this Emperor crowned in Rome would come to a more natural end than the last human he'd guided through Emperorship.

He knew he would always beware the Ides of March.

The Francs were just beginning their revel as Janus left to report to his oversight committee.

Chapter One

The Director-only phone woke Hobbs from a deep sleep. He'd been dreaming of making Feds dressed in their dark blue suits and tasteful ties walk the plank.

I'm sending the car around. Pick you up at ten. You may have to delay your trip to the west coast.

Yes, sir.

The line was dead before both words were out.

Wonder what that's all about…

Good morning, Sir Henry. No sense in wondering; he'll tell us as soon as we arrive.

Should I reconnoiter headquarters before the limo arrives?

If you want. Not expecting an ambush.

I want. You never can tell with this outfit.

Our PI lessons are making an impression, I see. While you’re gone, I'll get ready.

Tally Ho.

Showered, shaved, breakfasted, and wearing one of his best suits, Hobbs took a quick look at his PI email. There was nothing that couldn't wait until after his trip to HQ. He made a withdrawal from the ample stash under his bed.

He counted out ten hundred-dollar bills. A grand was more than enough walking around money. He still wasn't quiet used to his new status as a member of the one percent. However, the bills fit snuggly in his wallet and comfortably in his inside jacket pocket.

It was 9:50. Hobbs thought for a moment, but finally decided he would holster his Glock on his waist.

Doubt you'll need that.

It’s like the cash; I feel better carrying it. Anything to report?

No ambush in sight. Vic and Delilah are having breakfast with the Director. No conspiracy talk. Seems like another morning in the life of the Corps.

Thanks.

Limo outside.

Hobbs checked his Glock. It was loaded and the safety engaged. He declared himself good to go.

Can't keep the man waiting.

Hobbs looked around the apartment, pulled the door shut and locked up.

Clear.

Henry was checking the street. It wasn't a long walk to the limo, but it was exposed.

Roger that. Assume your usual post.

Sir Henry on post. The way is clear all the way to headquarters.

Hobbs let himself into the back of the Bentley limo and settled in for the ride.

Chapter Two

E nough of this shit.

Barron was slightly taken aback by Parker’s language.

Do they let you talk like that in court?

One of the fucking reasons I stay out of courtrooms.

Someone really riled the old boy. Barron had had enough of his rampage.

Okay, I'll bite. Enough of what shit?

Your habit of taking regular withdrawals from the Duchess's cash accounts.

Barron let that statement hang in the air for a while. She knew that even an inept custodian such as Parker would eventually see her felony.

I've done no such thing, Barron said in as indigent of a tone as she could muster.

I'm looking at the statements right in front of me. This has to stop, or I will be forced to tell Her Grace and the police.

I repeat that this isn't my doing.

And I repeat that it’s the cops next.

That’s the last straw, Barron said aloud as she searched her old-fashioned Rolodex. She stopped at the card labeled Hit Man. Malcolm in Athens. Stephan answers the phone were the notes under the phone number in Athens.

She dialed the number.

Yes?

Is this Stephan?

Who are you?

In my last business with you and your boss, my code name was Princess.

The line went quiet. Stephan was leafing through his own Rolodex.

Ah, there you are Princess. Code word please.

Sleeping Beauty.

The first level of security had been passed with no trouble.

Our last mission?

A certain Judge here in San Francisco.

Barron was getting uncomfortable.

Yes, Ms. Barron, how may we be of service?

I need to talk to Malcolm.

He's a busy man. I hope you have a job for us; we don't do well with small talk.

A lawyer in New York needs to join his ancestors.

Lawyer, you say. Malcolm has a soft spot for lawyers. How urgent is your need?

Urgent enough that if the next sound isn't Malcolm, I'll continue my assassin search.

Malcolm coming right up.

Two phone clicks.

Ms. Barron, how may I be of service?

Do you still arrange murders?

Yes.

A lawyer in New York City will cost how much?

A hundred down and two hundred with proof of death.

You've raised your rate.

Inflation. I can recommend a much less expensive operative; however, I cannot attest to her abilities.

I want this man dead. The sooner the better.

We need some information.

Barron gave Malcolm the information.

That is more than enough, Malcolm said.

I assume I can wire the hundred?

Of course, Malcolm rattled off the wire instructions.

I'll wire it right now.

Barron entered the information on her computer screen.

Excellent, Malcolm said when he saw the cash arrive.

Our usual plan. Your Parker will be dead within the week.

Always a pleasure doing business with you.

They both hung up.

Chapter Three

"R eporting a change in the usual HQ operations."

Report.

Limo is entering an underground ramp, ten blocks from headquarters. I saw no imminent attack. Maybe t’s a drill. I'm scouting up ahead.

Will enter the usual garage via entrance we've never used.

We are here.

Hobbs knew better than to ask the driver about the change in operation.

He rode the silent elevator up to the office suite level. He went through the amazingly well-hidden foyer door.

Hobbs still had a fifty-yard walk to the unusually long, polished wood conference table. The Director, Vic, and Delilah were sitting, casually drinking their morning coffee.

The Director waved Hobbs to take the empty seat to his right. Good morning, Mr. Hobbs. All is well, I hope.

Yes sir.

Coffee?

Please.

The unseen waiter appeared, poured the coffee, and faded into the background.

Hobbs saw no reason to beat around the bush. A question if I might?

Yes, but I'll assume you're wondering about the change in entry operation.

Yes sir.

Not a drill, although it’s been a while since we ran one.

He turned to Delilah.

Make a note; let’s plan one soon.

Obviously, Delilah took mental notes.

Yes, sir.

To answer your question, the CIA has begun surveillance again. They parked in the same spot that Carson had used. We have multiple entrances and exits. They can sit there till doomsday, and we won't drive past them.

The Templars used the same strategy at most of their forts. The longer the siege, the less successful they were, but they never had the technology and urban density that the Director has at his disposal.

Their current strategy is not a threat. Avoiding them isn't a problem. It certainly took them long enough to notice that Carson had gone missing. I've put headquarter defense on a low-level alert, but there are some talented people at Langley. We would be fools to ignore them. However, that is not why I called you in.

I hope he sends us on an international operation.

Any cases on your plate that would keep you from a week or two, perhaps more, of international travel?

Hobbs already knew he didn't put his PI business before the Corps.

Maybe a day or two to get it all in order, but if you need me to leave from here, I could handle most of my current client needs by phone.

Thomas, the Corps has thrived for so many centuries because we always look before we leap. No problem. Take two days. Your mission is critical, but taking the time to do it well is more important.

At this point, the Director turned to Delilah and Vic.

You both already have your orders. Hobbs is the lead on this mission. I'm sure he will bring you both up to speed as needed. Dismissed.

Both stood, nodded to Hobbs and then the Director, then left the two men alone.

Hobbs now waited for his orders.

Thomas, I need you to go back to Europe.

Yes!

I assume you have a specific location?

A starting point, yes. I am going to rely on your detective skills and good sense to determine where and when you'll need to move on.

Where do I start?

Venice.

Why?

"The Corps was born and grew to a powerful and secret organization in Europe. Our early leaders were Templars who had gone underground after the massacre of Paris and spread silently across the continent. Venice was an important outpost in the early years. It is less so today; however, we maintain a significant staff there. I have become aware of an intelligence leak. I need a man of importance, and they will know of your closeness to me, to investigate and plug the leak.''

The Director paused and looked deep into Hobbs' eyes.

However, you deem necessary.

From behind the dark aviators the Director always wore, Hobbs could sense a lethal stare following the remark.

I've spent many years in Venice. Love the place. I know places that I bet even the Corps doesn't. I was there with Caesar on his way back from Gaul. It was a small fishing village then. There is no need to make other stops. We can make an easy withdrawal there.

Let’s make sure we get this job started and done before we start digging up your treasure.

No digging required.

I assume you have a file I can review before I fly out? Hobbs asked the Director.

Of course.

Who is in charge there?

The Director leaned back in his chair. He took his time before answering.

One of my sons.

Wasn't expecting that.

No shit!

Your son, sir?

The Director seemed to be far away.

Yes. So far, he's the only child of mine who has shown any interest in the Corps I have to remember he's not a child anymore. He is a bright enough man. He is well educated and unencumbered by family. My gut tells me he is not the source of the leak, but I will leave it to you to confirm.

Am I limited in my actions in his regard?

No, not really. But I don't want you to go all Carson on him. If a sanction is your judgment, that will be my decision alone to make. If I decide that a sanction is in order, can you follow that order? Can you do that?

This getting rather sticky.

Hobbs knew a yes or no question when he heard one.

He did not leap into the frying pan without some contemplation. Even when he had made up his mind, he took a while longer before answering.

Yes.

For multiple reasons, I hope we never have to make that decision. Check with Vic and Delilah for their assignments. If you need help from here, Delilah is the person to connect with if you feel you the need for another set of eyes and ears.

Are you sure you could do a Carson to his son?

We are going to do our best, so we don't have to.

Yes, sir; after I go through the file, I will conference both of them individually. Do they know about your son?

No, and I'm sorry I had to burden you with that knowledge. If your career with the Corps takes the arc I envision, you too will have to make many difficult life or death choices. I'll not sugarcoat it. Command is a heartbreakingly lonely post. I hope your time working with me will prepare you for command. I believe you are the man for it. This mission will start you down that long and lonely road.

Wow, he's grooming you to be his successor. That's a big deal for us. I have partnered with a number of commanders. He is right. It’s tough duty.

Thank you for the confidence.

Man-to-man, the Director continued, it’s simple. You will either succeed me or die trying. That said, I'm looking forward to decades more of command.

I signed on for PI, but this is looking like my most interesting pairing in hundreds of human years. Between the treasure we will recover and your power here, you will be one of the most powerful anonymous men on Earth. I am honored to take this journey with you.

Some lunch, Thomas? The Director said, suddenly shifting gears.

Yes, sir.

Chapter Four

When he was back in Queens, Hobbs ordered New York health food: a pizza with pepperoni. It was going to be a long study hall.

He opened the inches thick file labeled Venice and dove into an evening of mission prep.

You are going to be very busy with that file, I assume?

Hobbs hefted the file, sensing its weight. It would seem so.

Do you mind if I take a few hours off?

Hobbs took his mind off his work and looked at the Rolex. No, not really, but be back by midnight. I sleep much better with you standing guard.

Henry knew that his plan would take mere minutes in Hobbs' objective time. It was only 18:30.

No problem.

The doorbell rang and a uniformed adolescent stood outside the apartment door, pizza box extended. Hobbs gave the kid a tip and moved back to the sofa.

Pizza exchange successful, Henry was certain his guard duty chores were done for the time being.

Then I shall be off.

Henry stood at attention outside the massive marble doors of the Chairman's enormous office. The office existed in a time and space only his kind could access. Most of his companions thought of this niche in time and space as home. For Henry, it was more akin to the high school principal’s office. Henry's home was with his humans.

Henry loitered outside the amazingly tall office doors until he was allowed in. There was no need to knock or announce his presence in any other manner. Somehow, the Chairman knew Henry was cooling his heels out here and would allow him to enter on the Chairman’s own sweet time.

This was the usual drill when Henry arrived with his own agenda, rather than answering one of the seemingly endless summonses from the Committee for Henry's petty adolescent misbehaviors.

Eventually, the massive doors swung silently open. All Henry could hear was the basso profundo voice of the Chairman.

Did we call you? I find no record of a summons or a request for an audience.

Henry had danced this particular dance many times before. He would have cleared his throat if he had one.

No, your Eminence. I have a personal question; more a request really. Henry bowed his head and then remembered the protocol. If you have some time for me?

The Chairman laid down the laser tipped quill he favored while writing The Definitive History of Everything.

I can spare some time for you, my son. I am just up to telling the story of our arrival in this space. It is a complex tale I have been formulating for eons. The old chairman looked down at the mostly blank parchment in front of him. Another millennia or two won't make much difference. Another pause. Henry waited. What brings you to my door?

From plenty of experience standing accused in front of the Chairman, Henry knew the old boy hated beating around the bush. In the words of the humans, he cut right to the chase.

By my count, I have reached my majority.

The words hung heavily in the air while the Chairman pondered.

An interesting point, young Henry. Let me check the Ancient and Sacred Annuls.

Henry could just hear the whir of machinery that seemed to come from behind the Chairman’s massive desk. A pale blue parchment flew from a slot on the desktop and settled directly in front of the Chairman. The document levitated so the Chairman might read it easier. He studied it more intently than Henry thought it would require.

Whether or not you have, in fact, achieved your majority depends on if you calculate via the New or Ancient Calendar. The Chairman was using his official voice.

Henry was well aware of the strange calculations that had required two different forms of record keeping.

Even in their kind, no one system would be accepted by all.

The Chairman had the ultimate and final ruling on which calendar would be used to settle which dating question. Henry's compatriots agreed on one thing only: The Chairman had the power to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

It was nice having no one to answer to.

Henry had done the calculations using both systems.

He stood in front of the Chairman's desk awaiting the ruling.

Which particular right of majority are you requesting?

Henry suspected doom.

Time bending in the human sphere, he said boldly.

The Chairman looked down at the blue parchment and then back up at Henry too many times.

By the Old and Ancient calendar, Henry was well into his majority. Not so much by the new calendar.

The Chairman broke the deafening silence, "Why are