JOSI

Josi comes to a stop behind Rand, taking interest in the book he's reading. 48 Laws of Power, Josi reads. The only Nonfiction work she's consumed is a book which title was too long to remember. She wonders if getting herself immersed in the genre will do her any good. After all, she's a romanticist.

"You're back." Says Rand, eyes still on his book.

Josi isn't sure how he knows her identity, because he hasn't looked away from his book. He must have seen her coming, though she's unsure how.

"I was out handling life." She begins skimming through the bookshelf. The library today isn't packed. It seems it never is. But despite how big the vicinity is, Rand only chooses to read at that same spot in the corner, facing the vast bookshelves. "You know, I got into some Ernest Hemingway works."

Rand turns a page. "Really?"

"No." Josi says. "Nonfiction really isn't my thing. But I am interested in it." The book in her hands is an autobiography penned by a general about his career in the military. She wonders if she could get a work detailing her life published. She could if she tried. "If it counts, I did read The Epic of Gilgamesh."

"That's an epic." Rand replies.

"Yes. But it's the oldest piece of text I've read."

Rand takes the time to study the book in Josi's hands. Then he thinks to himself, and finally he skims through the bookshelf until he lands on one good enough for him. "Start with this." He hands the book over.

Josi flips to page one. "Plato?" She asks, eyes scanning the texts. She only knows of the philosopher in name.

"You should be able to handle the concepts." Rand tells her.

"You really think I'm that obtuse?"

"Contrary, actually."

Josi goes mute. The consigliere is no fool, she knows this. He's an intelligent man, capable of seeing right through the farce if she comes in with loads of information at once. Precisely why she's decided to take her time with him. This process isn't one she can rush. It's like hunting. You lie in wait until your prey has let its guard down. Then you strike. She needs to warm up to him, play into his sensitive side, befriend him. And she's found the perfect bait. The perfect trap.

"Then I'll recommend a book of my own." Says Josi. "The Alchemist. I think you'll enjoy it."

Annabelle's favorite book. That's what was listed in Dami's memo. Annabelle was a girl who loved to read, much more than Rand could comprehend himself. She spent her time most at the library, and after learning this fact Rand had gifted her that very book. The Alchemist. Annabelle grew fond of it. It became her favorite work of fiction.

Rand takes this bait. He pauses yet again, perhaps visiting past memories of his daughter. His silence feeds Josi's confidence. "A friend of mine recommended it to me back in school. Since then, it's been my favorite."

Again, there's no response from Rand. She can practically see him trying to connect the dots in his head. She can see the wheels spin and whirl, trying to put things in their place to derive some form of connection. It almost makes her laugh. She wonders how long it will take before he comes to the conclusion.

"Great suggestion." Says Rand, after more seconds of silence. "But you might want to try something else."

"Things Fall Apart." Josi states. "That's another good one."

Then the two fall back into silence. Josi knows Rand's usage of that silence isn't for the book he's seemingly reading, but for his daughter. It's only a matter of time. Josi will lie in wait. She will exercise patience. And then her hook will have finally caught the fish.

__

That evening started off normal. Josi is in the living room engaging in a book, but the only thing standing in the way of her truly grasping the passage is the idea of Idris and Rosari.

She knows Idris is no fool. Well, at least, for the most part. He should be aware of Rosari's motives by now. What Josi wants to know is what he thinks of the girl. She wants to know if her advances are getting to him. In the event that things do end up taking a different turn, Josi has already started coming up with a plan. But that only comes into play if Idris's feelings for her diminish. And while she thinks it won't happen, one can never be too careful.

On the table in front of her is Idris's last remaining silver pistol. The Verdonni inscription on the side gleams under the chandeliers above, which begs the question: Why does it do little to grab her attention? She's been stealing glances at the weapon for minutes now. Could be because of how polished it is. It is a fine shade of silver.

The last time Josi held a gun was when Idris forced the weapon into her hands. But as the firearm stares back at her, Josi realizes she's more inclined to pick it up. She finds herself wondering about the sensation of the gun's feel. Would it be colder than the last time she held it? How much will it weigh? Josi finds herself curious.

A call from Dami brings her back down to Earth. Again, it must be something important. So she shuts the book close and heads for the courtyard.

"Where are you right now?" is the first thing Dami says.

"I'm with Idris, why?"

"Good. Don't leave his side 'cause something just came up."

A seed of doubt takes root. "Well, I currently don't have that choice, anyway. But whatever it is, I'm sure we can handle it."

"This isn't as simple as Ramsey's case, Josita."

"How bad could it be?" Josi asks. "We were adequate in dealing with Ramsey and he's now six feet under-" She pauses, because she has only just now realized that she's not alone in the courtyard. It's a guard, the ones who usually patrol the place for security.

Josi's eyes widen at the sight of the eavesdropper. The man, equally in shock, stares back at her just as much as she does. Then his senses finally kick in and he bolts. Straight for the poolside. Where Idris is.

~《¤》~

GUARD

The billiard room, where the guards like to gather around, usually empties out around nine. That's when they retreat back to the scout quarters, the building standing beside the main one. Only about a couple guards remain for one last security check around the premises before they all call it quits.

This particular guard, however, left the billiard room a bit later than the rest. The alcohol is what kept him there, and after a couple more glasses, he finally decided to call it quits. Most conversations in the room center around measly hopes and dreams. Some guards think they still have some luck left over for a lavish lifestyle like their boss. But they've all wasted their lives. Even this guard knows his luck has run out, though he does occasionally daydream about life on the edge.

Other times, the conversation seems to circle back to their boss's woman. Not many kind words about her. She's disliked by most of the guards, mainly due to the level of authority she holds. Most see her as arrogant considering she's nothing more than just a pillow for their boss to lie on. And this guard agrees. She must only be valuable for her looks.

So imagine his surprise when he overhears her in some conversation. He didn't particularly mean to eavesdrop, but the nature of the discussion drew his attention. And then he finally heard the confession.

It makes perfect sense. Who would think to suspect the boss's woman? It's the perfect cover up, the perfect disguise. He's not sure why or how she was able to pull such a grand scheme, and he doesn't care. All this guard knows is he's going to be revered as a hero.

Idris soon comes into view. He's seated by the pool away from him, chatting with a couple of his companions. His pace quickens, and a smile so wide begins forming, it looks like it's been surgically implanted. He thinks he'll be able to earn Idris's favor this way. Maybe he'll even be granted a promotion. He'll be known widely among the family as the man who caught the mole. He'll be envied by the rest of the guards and seen as a role model. He could even earn a spot among Idris's inner circle. The amount of respect he's sure to gain practically makes him drool.

"Sir!" The guard yells. Idris turns back to see who it is, his eyes growing more perplexed by the second. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have something important to say. I know who sent Ra-"

Before he's able to continue, however, a bullet is shot right through his back. The guard's eyes widen at the pain, at the thick blood trickling down his body. His eyes pan to Idris before they slowly begin rolling to the back of his head. Then his legs give out, and his body falls and hits the ground.

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