Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

Along with patience, and the ability to take the long view. Minds are weapons, you see, if properly trained and motivated. And pointed in the right direction. And our weapons are everywhere. Certain people who enter Blue Block undergo extensive psychological conditioning. We change the way they think, prime them to live and die for Blue
    Block, alter their consciousness and morality to suit our needs, and then we make them forget it. We call these people the Hundred Hands. One hundred of the finest young men and women, from all the Families, sent out to be our hidden weapons, our hands to strike in the night, unknown and unsuspected. Not knowing what they are, till the correct code words awaken them from the dream they think is their life. People just like you, Robert Campbell."
    Robert could feel cold sweat beading on his face. His stomach was so tense it ached, as though expecting a blow. "Are you saying… I'm one of the Hundred Hands?"
    "Oh yes. You're primed and ready to kill, your conditioning firmly in place, even after all this time. All you need is a name, a location, and the right activation words. Which I have. Of course, I might not need to use them. If you could see your way clear to being… reasonable."
    "This is all bullshit!"
    Brendan leaned forward. "We all come home."
    Robert Campbell's face shut down. All the emotion and character slipped out of his features, and his gaze was fixed and unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was calm and emotionless. "Activation code acknowledged. Request status confirmation."
    "Status neutral. Reset."
    Robert Campbell was suddenly back again. His breathing came harsh and hurried, and he hugged himself tightly as though trying to keep from falling apart. For a moment everything that was him had been pushed aside, confined to some small back corner of his own mind, while someone or something else looked out of his eyes and spoke with his voice. That other person had been a cold and unflinching
    thing of duty and obedience, and Robert had no doubt it would have used his body to kill anyone at all. While he watched from far away, helpless to interfere.
    "You bastard," he said thickly. "What have you done to me?"
    "Not me," said Cardinal Brendan. "Blue Block. One of the Hundred Hands lives within you, Robert, never more than a code phrase away from being activated and set loose. Of course, that need never happen. If you're prepared to be reasonable."
    "What do you want?"
    "Use your influence to persuade Constance away from her current opposition to the Families in general, and Clan Chojiro in particular. Convince her to accept a purely ceremonial role as Queen, and avoid all real politics."
    "She'll never agree to that."
    "You'd better make sure she does, Campbell. Because if you can't neuter her, she'll have to die. We can't allow someone of her potential influence and power to continue in her stand against the Families and Blue Block. We'd have to have her killed. Or more exactly, we'd have you kill her." Cardinal Brendan smiled at the distraught look on Robert's face. "I see you understand the realities of your position. Consider my words carefully. Be reasonable, and persuasive, and you and your beautiful intended can have a long and happy life together. Persist in being our enemy, and she shall die. Just like your last bride-to-be.
    Goodbye, Robert. I've enjoyed out little chat. We must do this again sometime."
    He deactivated his security seals and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Robert didn't know what to say or do. How do you fight an enemy that lives inside your own head? He clenched his hands into fists, but that wasn't enough to stop them trembling. He'd already lost one love at a wedding, and the thought of losing another terrified him beyond hope or sanity.

    Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn looked slowly around the shattered remains of his office at Imperial News. All the walls had been bowed outward by the force of the bomb's explosion, and every piece of furniture in the office had been reduced to charred kindling. There was a small blackened hole in the middle of the floor, where the actual device had detonated, and there was blast and fire and smoke damage everywhere. The single steelglass window was still in one piece, letting sunshine stream over a scene of utter devastation. Extractor fans worked loudly as they struggled to remove the last of the smoke from the air.
    Toby made his way cautiously across what was left of his