Ancients

firm.'

'Good. Could you point out the other two senior partners, please? Most notably,' the man pulled a scrap of paper from the inside of his black glove, 'a Mr. Jackson Keeler.'

Another man in his seventies cleared his throat. 'I am he,' he said shakily.

'You are the youngest son of Jackson Keeler the third, born in 1930?'

'Yes.'

The smallish man nodded at two of his men and they moved forward to lift Keeler to his feet.

The man then looked at three of the female paralegals who were cowering together by the far wall.

'Mr. Jackson Keeler, you will be asked a series of questions about your father, your older brother, and also about your affiliations, most notably your private affiliations. You will answer these questions in the most direct and honest way possible. If you do that, this will not happen to any more of your people.' The man quickly fired three shots at the cowering women he had picked out and lined up against the wall. The bullets struck cleanly and the women were dead before they hit the expensively carpeted floor.

'You murdering bastard!' Keeler shouted.

The gathered employees and visitors prayed that Mr. Keeler, whose father was the founding partner of the firm, was indeed forthright in his answers.

'I believe we should retire to your office for our conversation.'

As the two men with Keeler between them left the meeting room, the smaller man hesitated and leaned closer to a large man standing near the door and whispered instructions.

'Separate them into other rooms and dispatch them all.'

The large man nodded and then looked at the hopeful men and women around the meeting room. As the people watched him, he gave them a reassuring smile.

Jackson Keeler was taken into his spacious office and was made to sit down in his chair. The small man nodded to the two men who had escorted Keeler in, and they left the office to join the rest of their team.

Keeler closed his eyes when the killer removed the black mask he was wearing, as if not seeing him would somehow save his life.

'Relax, Mr. Keeler. Do you mind if I pour myself a drink?'

The older man opened his eyes in time to see the man with the mustache pour a drink from the expensive decanters at the small bar.

'The plate map, Mr. Keeler, where is it?' he asked as he walked to the desk and set an identical glass of bourbon on the maroon blotter.

Jackson Keeler picked up the glass and drained the bourbon in one large gulp. He set the glass down with a shaky hand and then wiped his mouth.

'Distasteful business, I know. But we do need to get this behind us and all you have to do is tell me where the plate map is.'

Keeler knew that there was no use in denying the map existed or that his family indeed did at one time have it.

'I only know what my father told me when I was a young man. Anything other than that, I can't say.'

The man took a small sip from his glass and then smiled. 'That is good. You see, there is willingness on your part to get this bad business finished. Tell me, what was said to you by your father?'

'The item you are looking for, it's not here. It was sent to my older brother many years ago, before the war.'

'Indeed? Please continue.'

Keeler looked around, the hope of rescue now completely gone.

'The plate map was sent to Hawaii just before the start of the war and my brother was directed to give it to someone else. That's all I know.'

The man finished his drink and then placed the glass back on the bar. He turned and looked at the old man but did not utter a sound.

'I know nothing else. Please allow those not involved with this to leave the building.'

The man still said nothing.

The door to Keeler's office opened and Dahlia walked in. She nodded at the small man and then removed her coat, with his assistance. She smiled and turned to Keeler.

'Now, this is an honor. I never thought I would get to meet one of your kind face-to-face. I mean, my employer is a brother of yours, but to actually meet one of the last of the Ancients, well, I just can't tell you what an honor it is.'

Dahlia turned and looked at the small man, who was watching her work with a smile etched on his harsh features. He shook his head negatively and then whispered something into her ear. The blond-haired woman turned back to face Keeler once again.

Dahlia looked around the richly appointed office, her eyes passing over the paintings and settling back again on Keeler. She removed her gloves and then sat in one of the chairs facing the old man.

'Your older brother, at least from what my employer's records show, was a nonconformist who didn't like the dirty little secret about the Ancients and wanted nothing to do with your family. Maybe the old boys and girls were a little too cowardly for his taste. Therefore, he went his own way. That makes me curious as to why your father would have sent him the plate map. You tell my man here your brother passed it on to another. However, your father would never have entrusted an item so valuable to an unworthy person. So I must conclude that it was passed to an Ancient, and I believe you know who that is.'

'Like I told your assassin here, I don't know.'

'Will you open your safe, please?'

'I don't have an office safe.'

'Mr. Keeler, I have had a very long and tiring day. Must I order the deaths of more of your friends in the outer office?'

The old man lowered his head and knew he would have to give this woman the name she sought. The betrayal that he felt was choking him, just as it had his brother that night long ago in Hawaii.

'The map was ordered turned over to an Ancient.'

'Ah, I knew your father was an astute man,' Dahlia said as she smiled brightly. She then placed a black glove back on her right hand and held it out. Her man placed a glass of whiskey in her hand and then just stood there as she sipped. 'I thought a drink would be in order. You don't know it, Mr. Keeler, but this is a very historic day.' She smiled again and held the drink with only the one gloved hand. 'The name?'

The old man lowered his head and then gestured to the far wall.

'Behind that picture is my safe. May I?'

'By all means, please.'

Keeler walked slowly past the woman to a large portrait of his father. He pulled on the right side and the painting swung outward, revealing a small wall safe.

'Now, I wouldn't want you to open that and try and surprise us with a weapon. That would not be at all like your bloodline, would it? It would go against your nature to get directly involved.'

'No weapons,' he said as he reached out and started dialing his combination.

Dahlia nodded for the small man to step closer to observe Keeler.

The old man pulled the handle on the safe door as he felt the presence of the assassin as he stepped up behind him. He knew that he had to proceed delicately. He reached into the opened safe and started to remove a large book as he blocked the view with his thin frame. As he did so, he slipped his right hand under the thick pages.

The small man started to step forward to snatch the journal from him. Keeler had to think quickly before his deceit could be discovered. He allowed his knees to buckle; he moaned and collapsed, dragging the journal out of the safe as he did so. He fell to the carpet and rolled as if in the throes of a heart attack. Praying, he slowly and quietly ripped out the bottom of the last page and quickly slipped the folded paper into his mouth, between his cheek and dentures. He closed his eyes and waited.

The man rolled him over and pulled the journal from his hands. Keeler was breathing deeply, acting his part to perfection.

Dahlia held her hand out for the journal, looking at Keeler with the mild curiosity one would give an annoying