Chapter 230 The Middleman
Elbert flagged down a cab on the interstate, heading to Dek State. He wasn't in a rush, enjoying the scenery as it zipped by. The driver, picking up on Elbert's mood, kept quiet.
Victoria was all about wide-open spaces and stunning, rugged beauty. The highway stretched across endless plains under a bright blue sky. Green and gold fields flew past, dotted with the occasional gas station or diner, each a nod to the romance of the open road.
Harley Davidsons roared by, their riders a blur of leather and chrome. Vintage convertibles, driven by sun-kissed beauties and grizzled cowboys, cruised alongside, embodying the carefree Victorian spirit.
For once, Elbert let himself relax and soak in the moment. His life had been chaotic and violent for months, thrust into a world he barely understood, facing enemies more powerful than he could've imagined.
But here, surrounded by Victoria's beauty, he found some peace. He knew this calm was fragile, threatened by the very tech that had upended his life. The world was on the brink of change, and soon, this carefree existence would be a memory.
For now, he'd enjoy this brief respite.
Two hours later, the taxi stopped outside an unassuming building: Dek State Coma Recovery Hospital.
Elbert got out, senses on high alert. Despite its normal appearance, the hospital was a fortress. Four cyborgs stood guard: one at the main entrance, one on the second-floor stairwell, one on the third-floor balcony, and one guarding a room on the fourth floor.
They expected trouble, but not from him. Not today.
Elbert moved like a ghost, swift and silent. He took out the first guard with a quick neck snap, the body dropping unnoticed. He pulled a playing card from the dead man's pocket: the five of hearts. A calling card and a warning. He wasn't in the mood for subtlety.
The second and third guards fell before they could raise an alarm. They were low-level Card Club operatives, no match for him.
Finally, he reached his target: a private room on the fourth floor.
Inside, a gaunt, middle-aged man with thinning hair and thick glasses stared at him in shock and disbelief.
"Target Paul Three?" he rasped weakly.
Elbert said nothing, scanning the room. An old-fashioned telegraph machine sat on a table beside the bed, its keys gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
This was it. The source of the radio signal he'd intercepted weeks ago, the signal that led him to Victoria, to the Card Club, to this very room.
The man in the bed, hooked up to life support, was Kofi, the Card Club's top intermediary.
"Impossible," Kofi whispered, barely audible. "You found me. This defies God's will." He coughed, a rattling sound of failing lungs. "Our organization underestimated you."
Elbert glanced at the life support machines, the oxygen mask on Kofi's face. Kofi was dying, yet still clung to life, still served the organization that had brought him to this state.
"I never imagined," Elbert said flatly, "that the Card Club's top intermediary would end up like this."
"You know who I am?" Kofi's eyes widened. "Then you know who I answer to?"
Elbert's expression didn't change. "Let's just say I know your employer."
Kofi's face twisted with fear and defiance. "You can't kill me," he rasped. "You wouldn't dare."
Just then, the telegraph machine beside the bed sprang to life, its beeping filling the room.
Kofi's eyes darted to the machine, then back to Elbert. "You see?" he croaked. "You can't hide. He knows. He always knows."
Elbert's lips twitched in a humorless smile. "Dear Kofi," he said, mocking someone else's voice. "Have my dear children, Invictus and Chain Bridge, delivered any good news? When can I expect Paul Three's head? Yours in anticipation, Mr. Box."
Kofi stared, eyes wide with terror. He knew the code. He understood the message. But how?
"You understand?" he stammered.
Elbert's smile widened. "Morse code might be dying, but not for me."
Kofi's face crumpled. It was over. He had failed. And now, Mr. Box...
"You may have won this round," he rasped, barely a whisper. "But you'll regret this. The Card Club... we are everywhere. And the Joker... he will avenge me. He will find you. He will make you suffer."
With a surge of adrenaline, Kofi ripped the oxygen mask from his face. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath.
"You've made a powerful enemy today," he gasped. "The Joker... he will show you... true terror."
He tore at the tubes and wires connected to his body, eyes fixed on Elbert with a terrible light.
"I'll be waiting for you... in hell," he whispered, voice hoarse and ragged.
Then he was gone, body slumping back against the pillows, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Elbert stared down at the dead man, expression unreadable. He had expected a fight, a struggle instead of this.
He walked over to the telegraph machine and tapped out a message, fingers moving with practiced ease.
[Chain Bridge and Invictus are indisposed at the moment. Perhaps you could entertain them... in hell.]
He turned and left the room, the rhythmic clicking of the telegraph machine the only sound in the silent room.
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