Tuesday, December 18, 2012

For Those That've Read Crescent City

I added some extra incentive for the Reverend to assist William (addition in red); this addition will soon be reflected in the edition on Amazon:



... Reverend always managed to elevate the incident into a veritable crisis and garner plenty of publicity for himself. 
William strolled over to the table and slid back a chair opposite of the Reverend.  As he sat down, he placed a leather briefcase on the table.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m here now, William.”

The Reverend’s subtle jab of disregard infuriated William.  His face flushed red and burned hot at the open disdain for the cause’s most important commodity, William’s time.  The hour was at hand, time was truly in short supply.  He had previously been resolved to overlook the Reverend’s obvious affronts from earlier in the evening; his discretion was now overcome by more base instincts.

Yes you are.  And what about your thugs downstairs, the ones who held me at gunpoint while they patted me down and appropriated my weapons, are they still here?”

The Reverend nodded, “They’re just outside the door.”

“Are you afraid of me, Reverend?”

“I don’t trust you; you would have much to gain from my demise.”

“Would I?”

“I would be lifted up as a martyr in my community.  The people of this city wouldn’t take my death lightly.  Dead or alive, your goal is accomplished, and you might reason a dead Reverend would be a more stalwart ally than a living, breathing one.”

William arose from his chair with a devilish sneer, plunged a hand down the front of his pants and then slammed a tiny, .22 Magnum derringer on the table.

“If I wanted you dead, Reverend, you’d be dead.”

The old man smiled and replied, “Likewise.  Now, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to encourage an assault on Jackson Barracks, tonight.”

“Attack the National Guard?  Are you insane?  What would convince you that I’d even entertain such a thought?”

William smiled as he opened the briefcase and tilted it up at the Reverend.  The case was filled with neat stacks of crisp, one-hundred dollar bills.

“You have the opportunity to ally with me and bring this city to its knees, to pay them back for years of injustice.  Let them know how it feels.”

William watched the Reverend as he stared unblinkingly at the briefcase; he paused for several seconds before continuing, “That, and about two and a half million dollars.”

The Reverend rocked back in his chair and considered the offer for several moments, before replying, “What if we fail?”

“How could we?  There’s only three hundred soldiers garrisoned there as we speak; you could easily rally three times that at the wave of your hand.  You could take the place in less than thirty minutes; they’d never see you coming until it was too late.  I already have a plan of attack developed; there wouldn’t have to be much blood shed.  Trust me.”

“What would be our reason for doing this?”

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