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Leon: the word of Luther
The Universal Temple of Oneness
“Ok,” Abrahms said, “T think we should do the same. Good afternoon, Mr. Cain. If you need anything, there’s a comm. Device to your right. Don’t hesitate to use it.”
“Thank you,” Luther said.
With that, Abrahms and Dawson left.
“Time for damage control,” he said to Dawson once they were both in the main office.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. A simple case of the heat.”
“Yeah, right. You know Cartwright’s planning on using this to his advantage.”
“Relax, Jon, it won’t be that bad. Just wait.”
“Fine,” was the last word. The rough day had quickly given way to a hazy evening and the welcome dinner was waiting for them.
Back in the guest quarters the Lords of Order were getting ready for their first Metro dinner.
“What was that boy thinking? Playing in this damn heart” Stein asked to no one in particular.
“Who knows?” Walsh decided to answer. “He’s not even suppose to be on this trip,” he added.
“Yeah, we all know that,” Everett offered.
“Don’t tell Cartwright though, Cain’s his pet project.” They gave each other a puzzled look, which was unusual for Everett, the quiet one.
“Just because I don’t say much, doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.”
They all knew it, Cartwright had taken a special interest in Luther who as the youngest had no idea what was going on. But for some reason Cartwright grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.
Fresh from a much-needed nap, Jeb Cartwright was more than ready to get this party started.
Political power is gravity in reverse, the slogan for all would be contenders in the race on the political totem pole, the Lords of Order were on the bottom and trying to move up. Metro was just the first stop.
In the midst of all the festivities, Cartwright and Walsh were in deep planning mode.
“Refresh my memory, Jeb, why exactly is the kid along?”
“Take it easy, the kid will appeal to the younger crowds.” Cartwright took the last sip of his drink, “Come on, I need a refill.”
So much for the planning session, Walsh thought following Cartwright.
The party was in full swing. Luther could hear every laugh and staged conversation. He was feeling better but not well enough to be social. The last thing he wanted to remember was the only thing he could. He finally gave in and drifted back to the courtyard, its offering of peace and tranquility.
It can happen, Luther. This can be real.
How do you know my name?
Is that really important.
What do you want?
What do you see?
Peace. Beautiful. Quiet, people happy?
What does this have to do with me?
Luther was suddenly jolted out of this silent conversation by some kind of commotion in the banquet below.
Security patrols were wrestling with a cloaked figure on the patio. Music stopped. The clinking of ice in glass. People moved in slow motion trying to get a better view. Security patrols, the suited someone in an approved subdue hold, their bank of lights blinking a red signal of mission complete.
The suited someone was none other than Morris Leon, last know surviving member of the Religious Fanatics. Founder, owner, sole ruler of the Universal Oneness Temple of Leon.
The bio-suited figure was rushed to a private suite, where the Lords of Order, Abrahms and Dawson were waiting.
“Release,” Abrahms commanded security patrol.
Leon crumpled to the floor, the hood of his bio-suit removed. Slowly he lifted his head eyes blinking to adjust to the artificial indoor lights.
“Who is this?” Cartwright demanded.
No one responded and Abrahms and Dawson arranged Leon in a seated position.
Cartwright was growing indignant, “I asked a question.”
“Mr. Cartwright, Morris Leon,” Abrahms offered quickly.
Cartwright wasn’t completely satisfied but decided not to press the matter.
Morris Leon stood up abruptly looked around the room, eyes half closed. Then sat back down and with gray eyes wide, seem to burn a hole through Cartwright.
“Mr. Jeb Cartwright, Jon Edgar Bryce commander in chief of the Lords of Order, great great grandson of Earl Cartwright and Madelyne Bryce. Billionaires, chairmen of the National Banking System.” Leon stopped, as if waiting for some kind of response-“I know all that I need,” he whispered, head hung so his mane of black hair covered his hands.
Cartwright was rattled to the point of stumbling. Walsh and Everett quickly rushed to his aid.
“Can’t handle a bit of family history?”