Chapter Fifteen
––––––––
RAHAB HAD RARELY LEFT his penthouse during the five days since the Soldiers of Chaos had returned to Earth.
Xathan had been out scouting for information, coming back at night to fill him in.
Phul and Lachial took small teams with them to get the lay of the land.
Manhattan was relatively small, but it was still packed with people who’d been left behind after the Rapture.
Feeling restless, Rahab decided it was time for him to meet Oliver Giamano.
He checked his reflection to make sure his suit was spotless and his hair was perfectly groomed.
The suit he’d chosen this time was black, with a thin red pinstripe.
His shirt was red to match the stripes. He looked strikingly handsome even to himself.
He left his apartment, making sure the door locked behind him. The keycards didn’t work without electricity, but he’d found metal keys that worked in their stead. Even the modern world needed to rely on old technology sometimes.
Rahab’s only regret about claiming the penthouse was the long climb up and down the stairs. The elevator would have traversed the distance in less than a minute. Like everything that ran on electricity, it was inoperable.
He exited the stairwell, then swore beneath his breath when he saw Xathan lurking in the lobby.
“Lord,” Xathan said, somehow knowing his leader would be leaving his apartment today. “How may I assist you?”
Rahab figured he might as well use his minion since he had information he required.
“Lead me to the politician’s office,” he ordered.
Phul and Lachial were standing near the gold velvet furniture, discussing their search of the city.
They hadn’t encountered any Knights of Order or cambions so far, but they still had a lot of territory to cover.
Snapping his fingers, Rahab got his second in command’s attention. Phul hurried over with Lachial on his heels as their commander strode towards the door. “You’re heading out?” Phul asked in surprise.
“Obviously,” Rahab said with an eyeroll. “I’ve decided it’s time to pay Oliver Giamano a visit.”
“How many soldiers should we take with us, Lord?” Lachial queried.
“Five,” Rahab decided. “We wouldn’t want to cause too much of a scene,” he added.
“Exactly my thinking, Lord,” Xathan said in approval. Rahab shot him a dour look, but didn’t respond.
Phul chose two more warriors to bring up the rear as Xathan led their small band outside.
“Mr. Giamano’s office is at the south end of 5th Avenue, Lord,” Xathan said, indicating the avenue they were currently on.
Rahab took the lead, since he didn’t need a guide after all.
He grimaced at the stench of rotting bodies as he strode down the avenue.
Cars had been abandoned by their owners when it became obvious no one was going anywhere.
Most were yellow cabs. The taxis were everywhere as he glanced down the side streets he passed.
A trio of filthy humans surged out of an alley, brandishing knives. Rahab motioned for Lachial to take them out.
“Give us your valuables,” one of the fetid humans snarled.
“If you insist,” Lachial said. He held out his hand and summoned his dark gray sword.
The men gaped at the weapon in shock, eyes greedily taking in the large rubies that adorned it.
The soldier swung the sword and decapitated the lead thug.
He struck twice more in quick succession before the other two could run away, cutting off their screams.
His sword vanished and Rahab continued on as if they hadn’t been momentarily interrupted.
Several more bands of unwashed scumbags attempted to intercept them during their stroll.
Lachial took most of them down, since murder was his favorite pastime.
Phul and the other two soldiers assisted him when they needed to.
Xathan preferred to use his mind rather than his weapon.
He could fight as fiercely as his comrades, but his time was better spent plotting.
Rahab stopped when Xathan pointed at two men wearing blue uniforms ahead. They were guarding the door to a building. “That’s Mr. Giamano’s office,” his lackey said. “The police officers tend to shoot anyone who tries to get too close.”
“So I see,” Rahab said, eyeing the corpses that had been dragged to the other side of the road. Their clothing was riddled with blood and bullet holes. “How am I supposed to speak to this politician without being forced to kill his watchdogs?”
Xathan had already worked out a plan, of course. “If you would permit me, I could approach them on my own, Lord,” he offered. “I can inform them that you wish to form an alliance with someone in power. We can offer our services as guards in return for certain favors.”
It wasn’t easy to hide his dislike of his smug minion.
Rahab nodded as if Xathan had merely suggested what he’d already been thinking.
“I’m sure he’ll be glad for more assistance when it comes to security,” he said.
The windows to the politician’s office had been boarded over.
Shattered glass had been swept aside to clear the sidewalk.
Most of the windows along 5th Avenue had been broken by looters. Clothing, jewelry and other goods lay strewn all over the place after battles had been fought over the expensive items.
Xathan held his hands out to show he was unarmed as he approached the officers. They put their hands on their guns, watching him warily.
“What do you want?” the chubby, balding one asked. His colleague was taller, thinner and had short red hair.
“My commander wishes to speak to Mr. Giamano,” Xathan said with a congenial smile.
“About what?” the redhead demanded.
“It seems Manhattan has become rather dangerous lately,” the soldier pointed out, gesturing at the bodies across the street. “We seek to form an alliance that will be beneficial to us all.”
The chubby cop arched his eyebrow at his colleague. “What do you think?” he whispered.
“I think this guy is as slimy as an eel,” the taller officer replied. “But Mr. Giamano told us to keep watch for anyone who isn’t a complete idiot who might be useful.”
“Your boss can go inside,” the chubby cop said. “But only him,” he added, beckoning to the distinguished looking dude wearing the suit.
Rahab motioned for his men to stay put and strode towards the office. He nodded at Xathan and received an unctuous smile in return. The cops parted to let him through and he pushed the door open.
A harried looking young woman sat at a reception desk to the right.
Her light brown hair was mussed and she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
On closer inspection, he realized it was a bruise.
“Yes?” she asked sharply. Pretty, she had a trim figure.
She would be popular with his troops if his plan to use her boss didn’t work out.
“Tell Mr. Giamano that I wish to speak to him,” he said.
“And you are?” she prompted him sarcastically. The sign on her desk said her name was Ivy Roche.
“Rahab,” he said arrogantly. “I wish to form an alliance with your employer. We can offer him protection in return for certain favors.” He grimaced internally at using Xathan’s exact wording.
Her pupils dilated as she gave him the once over.
Women always found him to be attractive.
He couldn’t blame them, since he was clearly far superior to human males.
“Wait here,” she said, rising to her feet.
“I’ll see if Mr. Giamano can see you.” She was limping slightly as she walked down a long hallway to the door at the end.
Her dark blue skirt was slightly askew and her matching jacket had a tear in the sleeve. She knocked softly on the door.
“What?” a voice snarled from within. “I told you not to bother me!”
Several other people were working in the offices she’d passed. Rahab heard them muttering about the tyrannical politician. It seemed Xathan had overestimated his charisma. The man clearly used violence and intimidation to control his team.
“A man by the name of Mr. Rahab is here to see you, sir,” she said in a frightened tone.
“What does he want?” he asked in annoyance.
“To offer you protection for some favors,” she said.
“What does he look like?” her boss asked.
“No visible tattoos, he’s clean and he’s wearing an expensive suit,” she replied. Clearly, these were the standards the politician cared about.
Silence fell and Rahab could practically feel her boss thinking. “Let him in, Ivy,” he decided.
Ivy limped back to her desk. “Mr. Giamano will see you now, Mr. Rahab,” she said, giving him a seductive smile.
He inclined his head, then strode down the hallway and opened the door.
Oliver Giomano rose to his feet, smoothing down his wrinkled black suit.
Short and slender, he had olive skin and slicked back black hair.
He looked to be in his late thirties. He assessed his visitor shrewdly.
“Please, take a seat, Mr. Rahab,” he offered.
Rahab glanced around the office. The black carpet was thin and the furniture had seen better days.
Bookshelves contained dozens of tomes about political matters.
Just reading their titles was enough to bore him.
The desk was long and wide, dwarfing its owner.
His black leather chair was far too large for him, making him seem even smaller when they both sat down.
Too large for the cheap, barely padded office chair, Rahab turned his gaze to the politician.
The question Oliver had been about to ask died when he stared into his visitor’s weird eyes. He could tell immediately that there was something very strange about Mr. Rahab. “What do you want?” he asked, hand straying to the drawer where he’d stashed a gun.
“I mean you no harm,” Rahab said, compelling the human to listen. “Like your pretty assistant said, I wish to offer you an alliance.”
Oliver’s entire body was tense with the need to flee. His mind had seized up, but only for a few seconds. “Why are you here?” he asked in a slightly shaky tone.
“My men and I are new to this city,” the warrior said with a smirk. “It seems we’ve arrived at an opportune time. The Rapture has caused havoc and we can help you to restore order.”
Sensing it would be risky to trust this man, Oliver was still intrigued. “You want to help me get Manhattan back in order?” he asked skeptically.
Rahab leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “Why stop there?” he asked. “You have an entire country begging for a new master. An intelligent man like you could shape the United States into whatever you want it to be.” He pushed hard to manipulate the human.
“I could be the President?” Oliver murmured as his greatest wish was dangled in front of him.
“You could be an emperor,” Rahab told him, knowing his puppet had been hooked from the avaricious gleam in his eyes.