Chapter 12 Losham
LOSHAM
The sun had set hours ago, and as Losham walked home in the darkness, he appreciated Dave's company.
His brothers' agreement to cooperate according to their father's wishes was empty, and they all knew it.
The moment they realized Navuh wasn't coming back and it was expedient for any one of them to get rid of the others, they would act.
He needed protection, despite having his own guards, because they weren't enough to keep him safe if his brothers turned against him.
He stopped at the front door and waited for Rami to enter the code.
"Do you want us to stay with you?" Number One asked.
"No, thank you. You can return to the mansion."
Dave enjoyed the luxury of Navuh's mansion, and Losham had no problem with them staying there. He preferred to retire to his own house, where he could have some privacy.
"What about your security?" Number One asked. "Are you safe here?"
Losham smiled. "I have cameras and sensors everywhere. I also have guards strategically placed throughout the property. Besides, my brothers are not going to make their move tonight. We have time."
All of Dave's heads nodded in unison. "You are probably right. But I worry. You are crucial to our goals."
Losham tilted his head. "And what goals are those?"
"Survival, to start with. We haven't decided yet what we want. We are still learning."
"Good for you." He offered them a fake smile. "Well, good night, Dave. I will see you bright and early tomorrow."
The Eight dipped their heads, pivoted on their heels, and marched away.
"They freak me out," Rami murmured as they entered the house. "I don't know what to make of them."
"What do you mean?" Losham headed to the bar, where his favorite sherry was out on the table with a clean glass next to it.
"They are not like the other enhanced soldiers. The others were volatile, aggressive, and careless. Dave is calm and calculated. Mostly they just observe, like they are indeed learning."
Losham poured himself some sherry. "I think they are emulating me. They are learning from me."
Rami tilted his head. "Is that a good thing or bad?"
"It could be very bad if their combined intelligence exceeds mine." Losham slowly sipped on his sherry. "Which is likely. But they lack my knowledge and experience."
Thankfully, Dave understood that Losham's voluntary cooperation was better than his compelled compliance. He would have hated having to surrender his will to the eight former brutes, who were just now developing an intellect.
Losham had been doing that for many centuries.
"I need a cigar," he told Rami.
His assistant dipped his head. "Cohiba?"
"Naturally. Bring out the sherry, too."
Usually, on nights like this, Losham would have a couple of girls delivered from the brothel to help him unwind, someone to share a drink with and lighten the mood. But he didn't have the patience for that tonight.
He needed to think.
Thankfully, it wasn't oppressively hot in his backyard, and as he sat on his favorite outdoor armchair, the tension in his shoulders eased.
A few moments later, Rami appeared from the shadows, carrying a silver tray bearing the bottle of sherry, another clean crystal glass, and a Cuban cigar, which Losham accepted with a grateful nod.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" Rami asked.
"That will be all," he said.
"Very good, sir." Rami inclined his head and withdrew, his footsteps silent on the marble.
Rami was far more intelligent than most gave him credit for and was aware of much more than he let on. He knew what was going on without Losham having to spell it out for him, but that was okay because he was also loyal, unfailingly and completely, and that made him invaluable.
Sometimes, even a mastermind needed someone to confide in. Someone who would listen and offer intelligent feedback while keeping secrets without being asked.
Trust was a rare commodity in the Brotherhood, and an assistant like Rami was even rarer. It didn't hurt that Losham kept Rami's most guarded secret, a secret that would cost him his life if it became known.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine, and above him the stars blazed with an intensity that was impossible to see in most parts of the civilized world, unmarred by light pollution or industrial haze.
It should have been peaceful.
It wasn't.
Losham reached for the cigar, which Rami had already prepared by cutting off the tip, and lit it. He took a long, grateful puff and watched the smoke curl upward and disappear into the darkness.
His mind circled back to the events of the day.
The meeting with his brothers had gone better than expected, but that didn't mean he could relax.
Kolhood was suspicious, and Hocken was playing along for now, but his cooperation was conditional, contingent on Navuh's eventual return.
Hazok was the quiet one, the observer, but Losham knew not to underestimate him.
The fiction about Navuh's breakdown would hold for a while. Days, possibly weeks. But eventually, his brothers would demand proof. They would insist on seeing their father, or at least hearing his voice, to confirm that he was still alive and in control.
Losham took another puff of his cigar, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. The sherry was excellent, a rare vintage he'd purchased in its entirety, but right now he barely tasted it. His thoughts were circling like vultures around the carcass of the day's events.
It was hard to pick the worst of them because all spelled doom, but the most bizarre and unsettling was the phone call from Lokan.
He'd pushed it aside so he could concentrate on mitigating the most pressing crises first, but now, in the quiet of the night, the details of that call came flooding back.
The compeller was powerful, not as strong as Navuh, but formidable nonetheless.
He'd reached through the phone line with impossible strength, taking hold of Losham's mind and making him answer questions he would never have answered voluntarily.
And then Lokan spoke, his voice familiar and strange at the same time.
He'd referred to the compeller as a friend.
A friend.
Losham snorted. Lokan didn't have friends. None of Navuh's sons did. They had allies and enemies, more of the latter and fewer of the former. Friendship was a luxury that had been beaten out of them early on.
And yet, Lokan called the compeller a friend, and the word had rung true.
It wasn't difficult to figure out who that friend was and where Lokan had deserted to. He hadn't left the Brotherhood for a better life, for a peaceful existence with his human lover, as Losham had thought.
Lokan had crossed over to Annani's clan.
Where else would he find a compeller with such power?
But that wasn't the most jarring realization.
Now that he had a moment to think, he was convinced that the only way they could have known about the booby traps was from Navuh.
His father had never told anyone what was inside the glass enclosure, and the construction crew who had built it had been dealt with once the work was complete.
There was no other way for the clan to find out about it.
Even more troubling was the fact that they had called to prevent him from triggering the traps.
Why would Annani's clan care what happened to whatever Navuh had hidden in that enclosure?
What could possibly be valuable enough to risk exposing Lokan's affiliation with them and the fact that they had somehow kidnapped Navuh from the most secure location on the planet?
Had Navuh managed to steal Annani's precious tablet?
The tablet that Annani had supposedly stolen from her uncle Ekin, the one that she'd used to launch a civilization. That would certainly be valuable enough to warrant such desperation. The clan owed its technological superiority to that artifact. If Navuh had somehow gotten his hands on it...
But there were several problems with that hypothesis.
First, a small tablet didn't require a large glass enclosure. Whatever had been hidden inside of it wasn't something that could fit in a pocket.
Second, if Navuh had stolen Annani's tablet, he would have bragged about it.
That wasn't speculation. Losham knew his father well enough to be certain of it.
A prize like that would have been announced to the entire Brotherhood, held up as proof of his superiority, used as a rallying cry for the final victory over the hated Annani and her despised clan of immortals.
And third, the tablet was certainly hidden in the most secure location the clan possessed. Annani would have protected her most valuable asset with everything at her disposal.
So, what else could the clan want so desperately?
Losham stared at the stars, hoping the universe would supply an answer to the riddle, but obviously it didn't.
He finished his cigar and crushed the stub in the ashtray, then took a long drink of sherry. The alcohol warmed his chest, but it didn't offer any answers either.
The compeller and Lokan had both implied that there would be further contact, and Losham had no doubt they would follow through. Whatever they wanted from him, they would have to explain at least some of it to secure his cooperation.
Not that he had much choice in the matter. The compulsion had taken hold, and he would have to answer calls from that number and find a private place to talk.
He would obey because he had to.
But even if he could resist and could somehow throw off the compeller's influence, Losham knew he would still answer the phone because curiosity was eating at him.
What was Lokan doing with the clan?
How had he ended up allied with the Brotherhood's greatest enemy?
What had they offered him that was valuable enough to make him betray everything he'd been raised to believe?
And most importantly, did they have Navuh, and how did they get him?
It would explain how they knew about the traps and why they were reaching out to him now, after years of hostility.