Fire Dragon

Declan stared at him with a mask of indifference, but inside, he was seething.  ‘Why use my first name? Unless…’

“Sphinx would have contacted you sooner or later ... we always knew where you were.  The Heads have a message for you ...”  

There it was, the ‘S’ word again.  The audacity of the Heads!

Declan laughed out loud causing Friedman to flinch at the sound.  O’Brien had always made him nervous.  There was just something about him, something wild and dangerous.  He suppressed a shiver.

“Tell the Heads that I’m out.  That means no more messages from Sphinx and no more BS.”  His tone was deceptively calm.  He swung open the door and stepped out into the dim lot. 

Friedman leaned across the seat and hollered, “It’s different this time.  You need to know the truth!  About your birthright ...”

Declan swiveled around.  His pupils dilated with unchecked ferocity.  “What game is Sphinx playing at now?  I have no birthright.  I’m an orphan, remember?”

“Get back in and let him explain,” Morgan growled through the open window, cleverly keeping his eyes on the dash.

Dec glared at him, clenched and unclenched his fingers over the strap of the backpack, wanting to seriously hurt the man.  

Morgan stuffed a piece of gum into his mouth and chewed rapidly but didn’t look back.

Friedman opened up the briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope and a thick folder, holding it out to Declan. 

Curiosity won out over anger, and he found himself reaching out.  

He handed the sealed envelope to Dec and opened up the folder saying, “That ones yours ... if you care to know what Sphinx has to say.  This one is the reason we’re here.  It holds your future.”

He’d never known his family since his parents had never married.  His father had walked away with the news of the pregnancy, leaving nothing for the woman he’d used or the son she bore him.  He was six when she died.  Twelve foster homes and two arrests later, he realized that if he had to survive the life he was given, he’d have to trust his instincts.  It never failed him before, it couldn’t fail him now. 

Friedman’s deep timbre sliced neatly through the memory.  “The Heads think you should see this.”

Declan snatched the page from the folder and skimmed through it.  There were numerous searches under his name.  Most of them were dead ends until now. 

Friedman pointed to the last entry.  “Two guys are pretty keen on finding you.  We were tracking them for a while.”  He looked out of the window towards the elevators.  “They were seen going in here yesterday.   They’ve checked in, indefinitely.”

He frowned.  “What does that have to do with my birthright?”

Friedman’s lips lifted but didn’t form a smile.  “That’s what I’m getting to.”  He gestured with his head.   

“... 6th floor ... room 602.  They’re there now.”

“And ...?” 

“… and they’ll fill you in on everything.  I’m really sorry, but from the ‘need to know basis’ that comes from Sphinx, that’s all you need to know.” 

He cursed, knowing that he would get nothing else out of them.  Morgan twisted in his seat, took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them around silently.  Declan helped himself to one and stuck it between his lips but refused a light.  He slipped the envelope into his backpack and strode towards the elevators without glancing back.  He vaguely heard the engine start up as he punched in the floor number, looking up only to see the doors close in front of him.

What birthright?

Tugging the cigarette out from between his lips, he stuck it in his top pocket.  Then, stopping outside 602, he swung the backpack onto his shoulder and knocked. 

The door cracked a notch and then opened wide revealing a tall, thin figure with pair of tired brown eyes who regarded him cautiously.  “Yes?”

Declan introduced himself and observed the man’s reaction.

Understanding dawned on his face, his teeth flashed with an unrestrained grin.  “I can’t believe it!  How did you know we were here?  Come in.  We have a lot to discuss.”  He stepped back clearing the doorway as another gentleman came towards him.  Declan listened in confusion as the two men gave him their details, but nothing could have prepared him for what they had to say.

His lawyers had handed him the deeds to a legacy ... his legacy, along with a leather-bound journal.  Then they dropped the bomb ... He was now the sole heir to an empire built generations ago, in Ireland!  

Sole heir?  Not that he’d been poor of late.  His past jobs had earned him more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life.

“Happy New Year, ‘O Brien.”   

He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.  This was a kick to the gut he hadn’t anticipated, and surprisingly, it hurt. 

O’ Brien ... at least his mother had had the sense to give him his father’s name.  He belonged somewhere after all.  He pulled out the cigarette and lit up, taking a deep, satisfying drag before tossing it, hoping that this was the very last that time he would feel the need to reach for it.