A pause in the action...
Just settling it down a little. Some change in direction coming.
Next snippet!
Into The Breeches
The secure phone calls continued as one by one the pieces of the puzzle came together. Cedar had the correct information on the extra few thousand dollars for finding where the birds. But the bounty was two thousand a head for killing the wee blood sucking beasties. So far the count was only getting higher. Some guestimates were around sixty thousand plus birds with thousands more in eggs and hatchlings. At two grand per birds it was a phenomenal sum.
Cedar made one last phone call. This time to the corporate accounting and disbursement office. Her hand was shalking as she hung up and put the pone down on the receiver. She held up the piece of paper to Ralph as he wobbled over to her desk. He looked at the numbers and sank down into the chair next to him.
“What?” Torg asked excitedly. “What'd they say?”
Ralph looked as pale as Cedar as he read off the number. “Total kill current numbers are as follows: 63, 425 Adult Hummingbord Skulls, 33,012 hatchlings, and another 10, 912 eggs.”
“How are they getting and accurate count? That place went up like tinder box!” Torg exclaimed.
“It was an insulated metal box. After the heat build up it cooked it all like giant heated smoker. Birds were dead almost as soon as I started the fire. The smoke wiped them out and they cooked almost inplace. There were over one hundred thousand birds and eggs in that building.” He took a deep breath and continued. “At two grand per bird, hatchling, or egg it comes to $214,698,000 dollars.”
Torg just sat there in shock for a while. Silence just dominated the room for what seemed like forever. Torg finally asked the question, “So our share is two million? That is like one percent or somethin', right?”
“Nope. That is just the first payment to the three of us. The company gets fifty percent and we three spit the rest. Thirty three point three percent each of the remaining one hundred an seven million and change.” Ralph read off the paper. “We're rich.”
Cedar had a few tears falling from her eyes. She looked pale still but at least was breathing. “Millionaires?” she croaked. She stood up and walked to her private bathroom in her office and shut the door. The loud fan came on and a stream of sobbing could faintly be heard over the noise.
“What does this mean?” Torg asked. “What do we do now?” His hands flew up and he immediately brought them back down with a grimmace. “Are we fired? Do we retire? What?”
“I don't fucking know. But I love my job and a huge payday ain't gonna stop me from helping people out. We have done this job for years now. Finding that which can't be found. Looking at things normal people miss.” The eyes of Ralph Laurens just narrowed like hawk looking at a rabbit for dinner. “I'm hungry. Let's grab Cedar and take her to Joseph's. She needs good food and some wine to wind down. We got two weeks more paid leave and I'm hungry. We missed lunch with this thing, remember.”
The door to the bathroom opened and Cedar walked out. She seemed better and happier than when she went in. “Someone said something about food?”
The three newest millionaires in Indiana walked down the street toward Joseph's. It was weird that they were now some of the richest people in Huntington County. They didn't feel any different. The money was very welcome, but they knew investing it was the next challenge. For that they would contact their accountant Larry Cornelius at the office. Sure that he would welcome some extra cash to help them out after all. Accountants who are bored only get out of the office on occasion. Which Ralph and Torg made sure something always needed his expertise. Larry appreciated it since he was stuck playing Tanks Of The World in the office recreation room when things were slow, and he was damned good at that game. Torg had often joined Larry in a team match up and the two would lay waste to expert tank players. They both seemed to favor something called the 'Luches'. Evil tank, very evil.
The walk was short and the place was wafting huge volumes of aromas that just caused excessive stomach noises and over salivation. The waiter knew who they were and seated them at the usual corner table. He handed them the chef's menu for the evening and took their orders. Tonight they would celebrate their luck, their fortune, and the work they did to stop that which lurks.
“Seek. Find. Kill.” They raised a toast to those alive and those who didn't make it.