When Nana Wolffmüller lands at Wellington International—dressed in a teal blue,
finely tailored, fashion model’s business suit:
her designer luggage from the baggage carousel
through heavy traffic
the Duxton Hotel
a confident, subtly sultry stride to reception where she registers, turns,
tilts dark glasses up to survey sundry occupants superficially
ancient bellhop to escort her into a lift
the floor marked EXECUTIVE SUITES
tip in the bellhop’s white-gloved hand that elicits a deferential nod
him as he leaves to activate the room sign reading
PLEASE, DO NOT DISTURB
few of her
expressions, mannerisms, gestures and reactions go unobserved—by Dad O’Rourke,
at work, though unobserved himself.
If she’s a he,
or he’s a she by dint of veiled appendages, then sexual ambiguity may enhance the Human Race. Heads turned everywhere, some
with a glance, but men and women alike responded as to some celebrity... who no one
seemed to recognize, apart from me—Ms. Wolffmüller's would-be assassin. Odd word,
assassin. From the Arabic hashshāshīn, plural of hashshāsh,
one who smokes or chews hashish, a member, originally, of some secret Muslim order
during the Crusades that terrorized Christians and other enemies by murdering
them while under-the-influence. These days an assassin is
usually a fanatic. Or a
high-priced mercenary—my sad status—with alcohol the influence I’m
all-too-often under. Except when I’m working. Like now. After the baton
change. She / he who employed me has apparently been replaced by Sheik Hadithah
(the reprobate) who
added to my bank account before I had the balls to turn him down, who counted on my service based on services
long-past rendered... but unforgotten... unforgiven, I might add, by God, Maker
of Heaven and Earth and of all the creatures
inhabiting here, there, and everywhere.
Excluding those Manufactured? By the likes of Stuyvesant Fink? Member or
accomplice of Brotherhood Eye? Aye, there ’s the connection.
Lethal force is
effective as a punishment
not as a policy.
Should have known, or at the very least suspected this affair would lead to
Strike a blow,
lose the argument.
To him and his.
a contemptible lack of wit.
Like a band of demented Boy Scouts with their arcane oaths and rituals, their
esoteric handshakes and tattooed index fingers.
Hence we abjure
and use its brute practitioners,
Nonsense, if it weren’t so diabolical.
Fatuous, if it weren’t so bent on vice—and on exploiting those vice-prone.
predisposed to violence
being the easiest to deploy.
From human organ trafficking to narco-pharmaceuticals, from kiddy-porn to
armaments, from gambling to prostitution; name your vulnerability, the Brotherhood
are levers We manipulate.
Tragic was the day I let them grease my palm.
Weapons are too
for mental agility.
Once a minion, always a minion; Eyes do not equivocate.
Like armor to a
coercion burdens flight;
Eyes do not release their agents from former infamy.
Eyes of the Brotherhood hypnotize then
suggest it would be wise to do
mind cannot take
Idling in the
lobby, Dad picks up a newspaper...
What is Man
bereft of imagination’s uplift?
... in which he finds a follow-up on the Falk Foundation fire...
Who is Man
not Allah personified?
... wherein Remington Falk is extolled for the vital public service performed by
him and his fellow "genetic-prostheticians."