Chapter Text
Lancer: A New Century
The Road to Beijing – Part Three
The Announcement
Chapter One
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Settling into his seat in the private jet, Johnny stared at the cloud cover as they neared Bald Mountain Airport outside of Camden, Maine. As the only passenger on one of Grandpa Ha’s working jets, Geoffrey, the pilot, assured Johnny that it was his final duty going into the holiday. He had flown for Garrett Enterprises for a few years and taken Johnny and the Lancer family on several trips. General Lancer insisted that Johnny only fly commercial when going into a large airport but ensuring incognito transportation to Lancer or one of Harlan’s homes could be complicated. Even boarding through the smaller regional airports required finesse to avoid Johnny, or Murdoch, being seen on a Garrett jet or helicopter.
The art of not being seen was a skill Johny had learned since he was a toddler and began his life as Johnny Madrid.
Tossing his blanket aside, the young man clicked open the seatbelt on the comfortable leather seat and rose with a long stretch and yawn. After making a stop in the facilities, he entered the cockpit and slipped into the unused co-pilot seat.
“Nice nap?” Geoffrey asked with a pleasant smile.
“Yeah. These early morning flights are killer. But it does give me most of Christmas Eve relaxing by a fire somewhere.” Gramps had dropped Johnny off at the private airfield they used just as the sky was beginning to lighten, and they had been in the air before the sun crested the horizon. Jelly was catching a flight out of San Antonio International later in the morning to Arizona to see his sister, Jesiphina—Johnny’s adopted Aunt Jesi. “I’m glad it lets you off early, too. You flying back to the Boston base from here?”
“Indeed, with a return of signed materials from Mr. Garrett to his private secretary. We never deadhead in Garrett Enterprises.”
“At least you get to be home for Christmas.”
“Well, pros and cons,” Geoffrey scratched at his right ear, the one with black diamonds set in a five-by-five square on the black ear stud. Johnny had a quiet chuckle wondering just how peeved his father would be if he showed up with a pierced ear. “Pro, between my mama and aunts and one or two uncles, there’s enough food on the table to keep a man fed for days. Con, being raised in a large black family invested in the Baptist Church, there’s a lot of loud and invigorating praising going on and with so many conversations going on simultaneously, it’s a wonder you hear what anybody is saying.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, that could be another pro. Yep, looking forward to a couple of days off.”
Johnny laughed. “We’ll have the good food part for sure. Not so much loud. Unless me and my old man get into it.”
“Ohhh, Johnny. You are a brave soul. Don’t expect that I’d be facing down General Lancer when a hearty ‘yes sir’ will do.”
“I’m not scared of him,” the teenager scoffed, then paused. “Well, maybe a little.”
Geoffrey chuckled. “Happy belated birthday, by the way. You do anything to celebrate? You’re seventeen now, right?”
“Yeah. Seventeen yesterday. Me and my good buddy Kevin went to Main Event in San Antonio.”
“I met Kevin. He came with you to California. Nice kid, umm, young man,” Geoffrey corrected at Johnny’s scowl. “I’ve heard of that place. So, you got all your loud and invigorating out of the way in advance.”
“It was great. He’s a shooter, too, so we pretty much kicked ass in laser tag. He beat me in bowling, but I destroyed him in pool. I think we went head-to-head in video games.”
“And what was Jelly doing while you two tore through the place?”
“Jelly and Kevin’s mom, Adele, came, too. Kevin’s birthday was the 6th so we did a rehash of his while we were there. They bowled with us but otherwise Gramps and Adele found a table and camped out. They played some pool, too, I think.” Johnny laughed. “Gramps took on Dance Dance Revolution. Drew a crowd.”
“Whoa. Not people laughing at him, I hope.” Geoffrey’s hand brushed along his tightly cropped hair.”
“No, cheering. Set a high score on the machine. ‘Course, he complained about his feet barkin’ all the way home. Went to Magic Time Machine for dinner. Sat in the Wild West section. Got home late so neither of us got much sleep but sure did have a good time.”
“Johnny, we are approaching our final destination,” the pilot advised. “Need to make contact with the airfield for landing instructions.”
“Okay.” Johnny pushed up from the seat.
“Where ya goin? Buckle up if you want to co-pilot the landing. We’re going in,” Geoffrey offered with a wink.
“Hell yeah! Put this bird on the ground!”
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xXxXx
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Wearing a gray fedora hat, dark oversized sunglasses with thick black frames and a black trench coat padded to add 50 pounds, Johnny slid into the back seat of the sleek luxury sedan parked in the drop off lane of the small regional airport, the door dutifully held open by Lucas Marshall, Harlan’s personal chauffeur.
“Welcome, sir,” he greeted before taking charge of Johnny’s carry-on bag and moving it to the trunk. The teenager always hated the pomposity they followed in these exchanges, but it had been clear from his early youth that Garrett was a wealthy man and any comings and goings around him drew attention and any attention tying him to the Bostonian entrepreneur must be avoided.
As a kid, he enjoyed the cloak and dagger stuff and even teased Scott that he didn’t get to have a secret part since everyone knew he was Harlan Garrett’s grandson, but after his late night and early morning, it just felt wearisome. Thinking back, as a kid it did annoy him that when they went out in public, he assumed the role of Scotty’s visiting buddy or the son of a business partner of Garrett’s rather than a family member but at least he got to look like himself most of the time.
Murdoch had to exert greater extremes to hide his appearance. A 6’5” man was hard to forget and a man with a naturally commanding presence such as General Murdoch Lancer added to the challenge. Most of the time, all eyes were focused on Garrett, and they did learn to avoid cameras—a feat that was becoming harder as cell phones with cameras grew in popularity. Grandpa Ha, though appreciating the profit margins, complained that company investments in that regard may have been a mistake. Thinking of his own recent experience with easy access to camera phones that almost doomed his Olympic hopes, he couldn’t help but agree. At least Lucky Morgan’s failed attempt to railroad him out of contention ruined his own chances of future participation in sanctioned shooting events. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Johnny grinned thinking of the letter packed in his suitcase. After all the time he had spent not telling his family about the invitation and try-outs for the Olympic Trials, a growing excitement about his big announcement regarding the results made his toes tap and his fingers dance while he waited for the driver. Talking Gramps into letting him tell them in person had been the perfect outcome. He couldn’t wait to see his father’s face. He was forever telling Johnny to apply himself to achieve results, and he couldn’t have landed the mark with greater precision.
He was going to Beijing. As an Olympian. Something neither his father nor brother had achieved. A family first. What could his father complain about? Yeah, he couldn’t wait to tell them. He just knew his dad would be proud this time.
Johnny’s fingers toyed with the telephone wired into the console of the immaculate and plush vehicle. On a whim, he picked up the receiver, bringing it to his ear and began a nonsense conversation. The windows were darkly tinted but he knew some shadows could be detected from outside and decided to become an undercover agent attempting to infiltrate an extortion ring…at least until the driver’s door opened, Lucas Marshall shifted into drive and then pulled away.
“We’re clear, Johnny, if you want to lose some of the gear. We’ll be entering through the garage.”
“Thanks, Luke.” He pulled off the sunglasses and slithered out of the trench coat and its padding.
“Just leave it on the seat. I’ll pack it away for another day.”
“So, what’s the rest of your day like?” Johnny opened the small, refrigerated unit and pulled out a Pepsi.
“Scott came in last night….”
“Oh yeah?”
“Late. He has to return on Thursday, the 27th.”
“That’s the plan.” He took a deep swallow, holding the liquid in his mouth for a few moments before he swallowed. Johnny turned his head toward the window staring at the snow-covered landscape passing by, wishing his time with his brother was longer. But like Gramps tried to convince him, the four days and three nights with his family was better than no time at all. And he had to admit, as much as he loved his Aunt Jesi, staying at her place was like watching paint dry and Gramps was bound to make him do some kind of fix-it chores. At least with Grandpa Ha, the only thing he had to contend with was dressing for dinner.
“The General arrives later this afternoon.”
“Oh? What time?” Johnny turned his head to look into the front seat. He had purposefully sat where he could see Luke easily and, as routine when Johnny was the only passenger, the dividing pane was open.
“Barring any delays on his flight into DC, he should arrive locally about 3.”
“Haven’t seen my dad for a few months.” He took another swallow of his soda, savoring the taste knowing his father would give him “that look” preferring that his always moving son avoid sugary products and stick with juice and water. “Oh, hey, Luke. Thank Wallop for the Cloak of Invisibility, man. Completely dope. Specter picked it up in the Guild House last night, but I haven’t been able to put it in play yet.”
“You are mighty welcome. Happy birthday, young man. And you can share the wealth when that Rogue of yours brings back some good loot to Cryptic.”
“Of course, Guild Master,” Johnny laughed. The pair of unlikely gaming pals, one in his 40’s the other just turned 17, had discovered a mutual attraction within the world of Everquest. Luke had been established since its inception while Johnny and his friend Kevin had ventured into the world about a year and half before. Luke had invited the young players into his Guild and helped both along, now strong players in their own right. “I suspect I’ll get some time clocked over the holidays.”
“We have a Guild Event on the 30th if Specter and Gryphon can make it. Planning a Raid.”
“I should be there, no prob. Not sure about Kevin but I think he’s cool.”
The two spent the rest of the fifteen-minute drive engaged in EQ concerns until Luke pulled the Porsche sedan into the enclosed garage.
“Just pop the trunk, please, Mr. Marshall. I can grab my bag.”
“As you wish, sir.” The formality of roles resettled as Johnny stepped out into the immaculate three car garage of the Maine mansion situated on an exclusive and secluded street near the Gulf of Maine and within walking distance of the Camden Hills State Park.
The interior door into the house swung open before Johnny could grab the handle.
“Welcome to Maine, Mister Johnny,” Harlen Garrett’s longtime Steward greeted, immediately relieving him of his bag.
“Hey, Mr. Duncan,” Johnny lifted a hand to wave. “Good to be here.”
“As Mr. Hoskins did not join us this visit, I have taken the liberty of allowing Mister Scott your typically shared room and placed you in his suite, if that meets with your satisfaction.”
“Sweet. One of the suites.” Johnny grinned. Other than the staff quarters, there were three rooms with private baths. One taken by Garrett, of course, and one given over to the general and Jelly when they visited here. “Now I don’t have to listen to Scott snore.”
“Snore?” A long arm wrapped around Johnny’s neck and pulled him into a large utility room housing the washer/dryer units and expansive shelves filled with supplies. “How about I don’t have to enter the mine field of clutter you leave behind wherever you deign to lay your head?” A hand tousled the dark hair.
Johnny initiated several drawn-out snoring noises growing more obnoxious with each iteration. “Now I ask you Mr. Duncan, could you sleep with that racket my brother makes? Could anyone?” the boy managed to ask as his brother swung him around the room.
The steward sniffed as he departed toward the back staircase. “A true gentleman does not snore,” he announced. “He breathes with enthusiasm. Your grandfather expects you in the sitting room.”
“Thank you, Mr. Duncan,” both brothers yelled at his disappearing back.
“Well, I see another year older has done nothing to enhance your maturity,” Scott grabbed his younger brother into a hug.
“And another year has only made you older, older brother,” Johnny patted his back.
More hugs and a handful of chocolate chip cookies greeted Johnny as they detoured through the kitchen to see Dottie, the chef, before shoving each other into the expansive family sitting room where Harlan studied a stack of papers on the stand next to his leather seat in front of the fire, sipping at a long black coffee in a crystal-handled cup. The Bostonian arose, his white eyebrows raised as the boys tumbled into the room before coming to semi-attention before him.
“When Scotty loses all sense of decorum, we know that young Johnny has arrived.” The staid man extended a hand giving his grandson by marriage a warm handshake and a pat on the shoulder. Knowing the reserved nature of the Garrett family, Johnny accepted the gesture with the love with which it was intended.
“I do try to be a positive influence, sir,” the boy grinned.
“And my attempts at reform are on-going,” Scott explained.
“Wow, Christmas in Maine!” Johnny exclaimed appreciatively at the décor of the room, the main attraction, a beautifully trimmed pine tree with gifts, packaged in glittering ribbons and bows, extending beyond the base. “I brought some gifts but I gotta say, I don’t wrap nearly so nice as these.”
“Ahh, if we had only known you were coming, we might have secured a trinket for you, Johnny my boy,” Harlan winked. “The stores close at noon I’m afraid. Perhaps another time.”
“No worries, Grandpa Ha. Scott said I could have his presents, didn’t ya, brother?”
“Of course. I know how badly you have been wanting that First Edition of “Nature” by Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
“Been asking Santa since I was five,” Johnny retorted.
“Dottie has planned a birthday celebration this evening with gifts set aside on the sideboard. Scotty even agreed to wait until your arrival to celebrate his own commemoration,” Harlan told them as he resumed his seat and gestured toward the couch and chairs in the room. Scott took the matching wingback chair near his grandfather while Johnny plopped onto the couch.
“You had a birthday, Scott?” Johnny tilted his head. “Oh, that must explain those gray hairs I see.”
“Yes, I feel absolutely ancient at 23,” Scott extended his legs with ankles crossed while placing his hands behind his head, “while my baby brother seems eternally destined to be…my baby brother.”
Mr. Duncan interrupted any further banter when he entered the room bearing a tray with a single mug of black coffee and presented it to Scott. “As requested, sir.” The young blond nodded his thanks as he accepted the cup and took a satisfying swallow. The steward turned his attention to the couch.
“Mister Johnny, your clothing has been placed in the armoire with the exception of your dress shirt and suit. I took the liberty of leaving them to be steamed and pressed. They will be returned before dinner.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I could have unpacked, but thanks,” the boy grinned, not really disappointed at all that the chore was done. He would have been happy to live out of his suitcase, but Harlan insisted on a more civilized approach to travel.
“Your array of technology was left on the desk.”
“Essential elements all,” Johnny quipped to Harlan’s quiet ‘hmph’ and Scott’s growing grin.
“The young master will discover a fully prepared Media Room encompassing your extracurricular tastes.”
“And a full-service exercise room,” Scott interjected. “You’re working out with me as soon as I finish this coffee and then we’re going for a short run before lunch.”
“Are we now?” the younger brother scoffed.
“We are. You are getting pudgy.”
Ignoring the comment as Johnny pat at his flat stomach, he commented, “You know the ground is covered in snow, right?”
“Braving the elements. Builds character.”
“Mister Scott took the liberty of arranging running shoes in your size Mister Johnny.” Duncan attempted but failed to hide the encroaching grin on his face.
“Yeah, he’s thoughtful like that,” the younger boy shook his head. “Y’all act like I hermit away in a basement in front of a computer or TV screen nibbling on bonbons all day. I work out plenty and can take you on anytime, soldier boy.”
“Grandfather, Mr. Duncan, please witness that my indolent brother has thrown down the gauntlet. A challenge which I accept. Shall we base it on time, repetitions, weights or a combination to be determined at each machine?”
“Fine, Scott. I’ll take you on in the work out and run challenge but only if you agree to face me in Call of Duty. Killstreaks work just fine.”
“Done and done,” Scott agreed raising his mug in acknowledgement. “Winner gets to choose dessert.”
“Or maybe loser doesn’t get any,” Johnny one-uped him.
“And watch the winner eat every bite.”
“And then put away his dishes.”
Another hmph sounded from Harlan’s chair.
“You are the one who invited them, Sir,” Mr. Duncan pointed out.
“The follies of an old man,” Harlan muttered to the snickering of his grandsons.
“Do you require anything, Mr. Garrett?”
“No Mr. Duncan. Although you should warn Dottie that the invading horde has arrived.”
“Very good, Sir.” Duncan kept his grin hidden until he turned and stepped out.
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