Epilogue
Gil rested his mud-covered leather military boots on the Brazilian Rosewood desk scattered with maps of the world.
He had been gifted the desk by another, many years ago, before the wood became endangered, and he held a particular antipathy for it.
So when given the opportunity, he liked to drink, smoke, and rail mud on it while imagining the gifter instead.
Tonight was no exception. He was in an exceptionally sour mood as his eyes surveyed the massive stack of marked up maps next to his poured drink. Some bore red marks that trailed across oceans into circles depicting skulls while others held more gruesome depictions.
Tonight was supposed to be relaxing, he thought to himself, if it wasn’t for her.
Dressed in his usual black military pants and black t-shirt, he smiled affably at the woman who had so rudely interrupted his alone time.
A toothpick danced between his lips, his eyes narrowing on the caller seated across from him.
Spine straight, ankles crossed, she was adorned in a turquoise dress that hugged her silhouette and bore a plunging neckline in a pinnacle of elegance.
Her black hair was coiled high atop her head, her dark brown skin looked newborn smooth, and her shimmery silver makeup only elevated her polish.
She held a delicate teacup between long, slender, ebony satin-gloved fingers in one hand and a saucer in the other.
He recognized the familiar porcelain to be Fathi Mahmoud, one of her favorites that he kept here for her rare visits.
“You look well,” he said, running a large hand through his gilded hair, suddenly self conscious.
“As do you,” the woman across from him replied. She took a sip. “The coffee is exquisite."
“It’s Turkish.” He commented, eyes roaming over her with resigned appreciation. “And I made sure it had cardamon.”
Her serene facial features betrayed nothing at first. He would have missed the lightest tilt of her mouth had he now known her as long as he did. “You remembered.”
“Isn’t that all we can do? Remember one another when no one else will?”
The simple existence of both her and Gil filled the room and added a tangible pressure that would have felt uncomfortable—downright unbearable in fact—had anybody else been in there with them. It was as if their very presences were vying for dominance.
He glanced at the maps before his eyes were drawn back to her. “Why are you here?”
“To remind you of the balance. You do realize,” the woman said, “that what you have done is considered interference, right?” She took another sip of her coffee. “You could be banished.” She sat her teacup silently on the saucer, then the saucer silently on his desk.
Gil stretched his arms over his head and sat up straighter.
“See, that’s the problem with you lot. You all see something this small as interference anytime we don’t use a proxy.
I was simply ensuring my assets were where they were supposed to be.
” He reached for his own drink, running his fingers along the rim of the rocks glass, and admired the scotch he’d poured himself earlier with the expectation of enjoying it alone.
“Besides, men have always turned a blind eye to death and destruction as long as it’s not knocking on their door. ”
“You would know men best, I suppose,” she said with a sigh.
“What difference does it make if I chose to benefit from either side? Or both sides?” he grumbled. He was not accustomed to being challenged in his own war room. This was a place very few had access to despite the china he kept aside for her. He would never admit that to anyone though.
“Gil, you are creating a monopoly,” she remarked. Her dress whispered against her supple skin as she stood. “You cannot be behind a group that controls everything.”
True, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try.
Brown eyes narrowed on him as he took a moment to think then clapped his hands. “What if I made two separate groups?”
She raised an elegant dark brow to him. “Explain.”
“The VEIL has existed for years,” he said as he swirled the scotch in his rocks glass.
“Since its inception, The VEIL has chosen which wars to interfere with, which governments to bring down, and which puppet leaders to prop up, has it not?” He waited for her response but kept going when it was apparent she would not bother to answer a rhetorical question.
“So I’ll stretch out my resources. I’ll make two teams. We’ll call them … ”
He paused to take a sip of scotch as he pondered possible names for this organizational restructuring. Also, to give himself time to prepare rebuttals against the arguments he anticipated she would raise.
“We’ll call one team the Sentinels of The VEIL. They’ll focus on the more mundane jobs. A mercenary group for hire or security team, not all that different from what The VEIL has been doing already. We already have connections with every government that matters anyways.”
“And the second?” There was a hint of curiosity in her melodic voice.
“The Revenants of The VEIL. I’ll have that team handle the …
delicate and sophisticated missions. For those situations when we can’t allow any country’s government to know the truth.
” He took another sip of scotch then smiled at her.
“Each team will keep the other in check to ensure neither of them grows out of control or becomes unmanageable. What do you think?”
She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together before she spoke. “You would still be behind both groups, Gil.”
“Which means my time, attention, focus, and resources would be stretched very thin, would it not?” he countered.
“The more personnel I have to be in charge of, the more assignments I take responsibility for, the more debts I owe.” The implication of his words landed as heavy as a guillotine.
He finished his drink, pulled out a cigar, and tapped the end on the table despite her apparent displeasure.
Afterall, she had been the one who disturbed his time.
“You and I both know, debts and coin are what moves the world.” The words felt recited and old, something spoken many times between them.
“Yes, that is the nature of things,” she acquiesced.
It was his turn to raise a brow as he performed the ritualistic cutting and preparing of his cigar. “Then you know the cost of my proposal. Is this compromise enough, Lady of Turquoise?”
The woman, born of beauty and righteousness, nodded. “For now, it can be allowed. If you’ll excuse me …”
Old habits kicked in and they stood there, together, in a moment of silence.
Gil made a move first. “Why, how gracious the gods seem to be upon me,” he said as he gave a mocking bow. To his delight, she responded with an eye roll, muttering how little he believed in them.
As rare as her visits were, he would miss her company. Someone he considered his equal.
The woman turned to leave and walked towards the door, but she stopped with one satin-gloved hand resting on the doorframe. He watched her trace the markings and runes he’d had carved into the wood with her slender fingers. Old superstitions that gave him peace of mind.
“Gil, you would best benefit if you found others whom you could trust. Have them help you run things.” She paused before continuing. “As your friend, you should let debts trickle down and not fall solely upon you.”
She didn’t say the rest. The day will come when you won’t be able to repay those debts.
Gil cleared his throat. “Thank you, Hathor. I will be sure to keep that in mind, old friend.”
She left without another word.