Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

MPs are. I'm sure we already have a great many acquaintances in common."
    Angelo sneered at him. "So the rats are already deserting the sinking ship, are they? I don't care if you're Neuman, Tel. I already have all the fanatics I need. And I sure as hell don't need another partner. What power I have is mine, and I won't share it with anyone else!"
    "I really do suggest you think again," said Markham. He moved over to stand before Angelo, confronting him directly with a steady gaze and his best commanding voice. "I am now connected to people who could be very useful to you, and your Church. People and . . . organizations you can't even imagine. I can make things happen, with just a word here and a word there. I can open doors that even your current influence couldn't budge. I come to you today in friendship, with my hands open. Deny me now, turn me
    away, and when I come to you again it might not be in so friendly a manner."
    "Ah, shove it up your majority," said Angelo. "You always did try and bully me out of what was rightfully mine. Well, not anymore, Tel. Don't let the door hit you on the arse on your way out."
    Markham shrugged easily, entirely unmoved. "There never was any talking to you when you're in one of your moods. And by the way; give mother a call. She says it's been ages since she last heard from you."
    Angelo just grunted, and pointedly didn't watch as his big brother let himself out. It was turning out to be a really bad day, and the massage function in his chair wasn't helping to ease the tension in his back and shoulders worth a damn. He investigated the extent of his swollen mouth with cautious fingertips, and found himself shaking with rage all over again. Douglas had actually hit him! Had dared to strike him!
    Him! Angelo swiveled savagely back and forth in his chair, scowling and seething. The Campbell would pay for this, and pay in blood. And if he was too well guarded . . . someone close to him. Everyone has a weak spot. Angelo's office door swung open again, and he reached out for something heavy and preferably pointed to throw. And then he saw it was Finn Durandal, and he sank sulkily back into his chair again. He'd been right. It was going to be a perfectly foul day.
    "I just passed Tel Markham on my way in," said Finn. "What did he want?"
    "Just a stray dog, looking for scraps," Angelo said sullenly. "I sent him packing with a flea in his ear.
    Why? What do you care?"
    Finn sighed, coming to a halt directly in front of Angelo. He glanced at the visitors chair, but made no move to sit in it. "Sometimes I despair of you, Angelo. You wouldn't recognize an opportunity if it flew over your head and crapped in your hair. Markham is a more powerful man than most people realize. He isn't just another MP anymore. He has influence in all kinds of quarters, in places even I can't reach, at present. As you would know, if you kept up with the reports and memos I so conscientiously send you every day. I made you my junior partner, Angelo; do try and pull your weight. And in future, consult with me before you reject and possibly alienate a possible ally. Remember; you run this Church for me, not for yourself."
    "Of course, Finn," said Angelo, as graciously as he could. "Why don't you sit down, while I order us some refreshments?"
    "What a good idea, Angelo," murmured Finn. He came around the corner of the desk, and waved imperiously for Angelo to get up out of his own chair. And he did it with such confidence and command that it never even occurred to Angelo to argue the point. He made way for Finn, reluctantly, and tried hard not to scowl too openly as the Durandal ostentatiously made himself comfortable. Finn gestured for Angelo to sit in the visitor's chair, and when Angelo hesitated, gave him a hard look that made Angelo hurry to sit down. His skin crawled as it made contact with the hard-backed chair. He'd had it thoroughly cleaned, of course, but still . . .
    "Poor old Roland Wentworth," said Finn. "But then, who needs a Patriarch when I have my very own Angel? Still; a transmutation bomb, Angelo? Rather excessive, even for you. Perhaps I should consider employing a food taster . . ." He smiled at Angelo's shocked expression. "Oh, I know everything, Angelo.
    Never think you can keep a secret from me."
    Angelo's mind raced furiously. First the Ecstatic, then Corcoran, and now Finn . . . did everyone know about the transmutation bomb? Only his most secure and trusted people were supposed to know