A Question of Will - The Aliomenti Saga Book 1 Page 0,2

an Aliomenti assassin.

I affirm my Oaths and vows, and do so of sound mind and body, without compulsion, of my own free will, as evidenced by my signature below in the presence of my Leader.

I

Infiltration

Two hours earlier.

“I’ll never get tired of this view, Mark.” Deron McLean spoke to his colleague through the radio connecting the two guard stations for the exclusive De Gray Estates community. “When you’ve got a few billion dollars, you can build things like this.”

Mark Arnold laughed. “No kidding. Wonder how those conversations went?”

“Well, probably something like: ‘Hi, I’m Will Stark. I’m buying your city, and with it I am getting a tax and regulation-free zone, and then I am going to build a giant dome over it that glows at night, and it will have so many job opportunities in it during this awful economy that I can afford to pay people to move here to work, and businesses to move here and set up shop. Oh, yeah. Then I’m going to build an old-fashioned castle wall and moat around 2,500 acres outside that dome, and hire two dudes named Deron and Mark to keep the nasty stuff away from me.’”

Mark laughed again, with feeling. “Hey, if I had his money, I’d do the same thing. Well, I’d never think of doing that, but then again, I’m not Will Stark.”

“Nobody is, my friend. Nobody is. Half the time, I’m not even sure that he is Will Stark.”

“Seems too good to be true, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed he does.”

The banter stopped, and the two men resumed the standard routine of their guard duties.

Three men appeared on the sidewalk outside the De Gray Estates. Had anyone been watching, they would have sworn that the three men had materialized out of the twilight descending on the town.

They marched with purpose outside the massive walls which surrounded the neighborhood, footsteps partially muffled by the sounds of the water flowing in the moat. Small puffs of smoke emerged from their mouths, the condensation forming in the crisp winter air. The only light came from the two buildings framing the massive concrete gate used to control access into the community. The walls could not be scaled; the gate could not be breached. The wealthy residents of the exclusive community slept secure and comfortable at night, knowing that no one got in without their permission.

Mark worked in what his security team referred to as the Guard Station, a ground-level building which enforced the various security processes allowing residents and non-residents to enter inside the enormous walls. Without Mark, the massive gate would remain above ground, and prevent vehicles from entering the premises. Without Mark, those looking to enter the community on foot, through a smaller double-door system known as a man-trap, would be thwarted in their efforts, even if they were a known resident of the community. Mark’s team maintained a list of non-residents expected to request access during a given time period, and tracked the comings and goings of residents. Mark knew that, at this time, only two residents were outside the premises — Myra VanderPoole and Will Stark. There were no expected visits from non-residents on the schedule this day.

He thus watched the three men with great interest.

Each man wore black, the expensive-looking shirts sporting a golden emblem with a circle and an upside-down letter V. One man wore a top hat and wire-rimmed glasses, a second wore what appeared to be a dark cape with a hood — was that a cloak? The third man wore no accessories, but his handsome face was marred by a thick scar running horizontally across his right cheek, just under his eye.

The purposeful look, devoid of any humor, gave Mark a very bad feeling.

The men passed the Guard Station, and then turned left, heading up the driveway, passed the window with a sign reading “Guests Check In Here First,” and proceeded to the outer door of the man-trap.

Mark tapped a button on his control panel. “Deron, are you seeing our uninvited guests?”

After a brief pause, Deron replied. “Got them. Is that guy wearing a top hat?”

“Yeah, and his friend’s got a cloak. They went straight to the door without stopping here first to check in.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about these guys.”

“Yeah. Same here.”

“I’ll call our friends in the Dome.”

“Thanks.”

That was their procedure for dealing with unapproved guests. Mark, at ground level, would attempt to speak with anyone seeking unauthorized entry. Deron, his partner on this shift, worked in the Guard Tower, and he’d notify the