Boris stepped out of the shower. Towel dried. He opened the bathroom door in order to release the fog of steam that built up from the hot water. Brushed his teeth. Rinsed and gargled his mouth with a small bottle of Scope. He wet his face and lathered it with shaving lotion. By this time the mirror had cleared of steam but condensation remained on it. He dried that clear with the same towel and shaved. Though Boris didn't plan for an overnight stay he nonetheless brought toiletries along just in case. He was in the habit of always being prepared for the unexpected. In the trunk of his car he kept a three-day spare set of clothes, including undergarments, an additional pair of dress shoes, a pair of casual shoes, sneakers, extra socks and his preferred handgun: the SW 610 with silencer and extra ammo.
Old habits hard to break.
After shaving, Boris stood back a few inches from the sink to get a head-to-torso view of his reflection in the mirror. For a man his age he kept himself in fairly good shape - yet another habit adopted from prison incarceration. He felt proud of his body. His upper torso and arms exhibited a canvas of tattoos. He was no longer in a brooding mood. His anger had simmered from a raging flame to smoldering ash, but in the process he had been forged into an animal much more dangerous: a human machine; a perfectly functioning, cold, calculating thing with a sense of purpose and the determination to see it come to fruition. In his past he had learned that anger could serve a purpose and should never be neglected. He allowed his rage expression, felt it fill him, flow through him, cleansing his mind and body, then letting it go to give way to clarity of objective. He knew what he must do: free his new love of the involuntary bondage that kept her from him. He was of the belief that sometimes tyranny could be disguised within the name of family and therefore it was deserving of the inevitable fate of despotism: annihilation. His anxiety having given way to patience he was in no hurry – first things first.
For now, he contemplated the inked images forever etched upon his skin. Years had passed since he'd taken such interest in them. During those years he tried to forget his previous life but discovered there was no escaping one's past and the legacy of consequences that followed in its wake. The tattooed gang symbols of his past may have been dulled from the never ending march of time but they were still branded onto his chest, arms and back in living retrospective colors. Each image a separate story unto itself yet together they weaved a tapestry of a life filled with crime, violence and revenge. Attributes that were not just parts of him; it represented the very essence of who he was and what he had become. The one emblem that stood out most not just in terms of aesthetic design, but within the dark, archaic, visceral meaning of its raging symbolism – had been his full initiation into the Vory, done while he was in prison - and because of the crude method employed using the burned heel of a shoe to create the ink then mixing the soot with urine and injecting it into the skin utilizing a sharpened guitar string attached to an electric razor gave the tattoo a fading bluish hue – but in no way diminished its signification of the Executioner. All of his life he had been denied love and the object of that love, but no more. Before he passed from this wretched world he was going to experience once more that elusive emotion and possess the person to whom it was attached now until death do them part – nothing and no one would he allow to get in his way of that vow.
Gabriel and Leonard were meticulously going over the eight coded pages at the end of the book Leonard found in Lawrence's apartment trying their best to make sense of something they were not even remotely familiar with.
"What do you make of it?" Leonard inquired.
"Chinese," Gabriel said. "I don't read Chinese."
"I do. And it's not Chinese," Leonard said.
"I know it's not really Chinese. I was using a figure of speech. Some kind of formula."
"For what? Leonard asked.
Gabriel's brow lifted in mock offense as he looked at Leonard his expression curdled between a smirk and wince. "You don't really do you?" Gabriel chided.
"Hey," Leonard said, "when I met you back at the house you mentioned you had advised Lawrence to keep something to himself. What were you referring to?"
Gabriel closed the book. Handed it back to Leonard. "Your brother was one of the deepest people I ever met and I've met some pretty heady folks in my life. He only hinted to me what it was he was working on. No details. He believed it was bad luck to talk in detail about any project he was working on while it was still in development. But even the tidbits he laid out were enough to make your brain cells go nuclear with trying to comprehend it. He was convinced that man – humans – were on the verge of a new psychic and spiritual evolution. One he said that would lead us to paradise on earth."
"You think," Leonard said, holding up the book, "this… formula has something to do with that belief?"
"Could be. And for Lawrence it wasn't just a belief. It was a knowing."
"Knowing of what exactly?" Leonard wondered.
"Only he knew. I don't have all the pieces," Gabriel said, "but I'll try to explain it as best as I can, according to what your brother told to me. I mean in our numerous conversations I sought of put two and two together with where he was going with this thing." Gabriel cleared his throat. "According to Lawrence and to many esoteric, cosmologist and earth historians, historically every twenty five thousand years there are major natural changes in terms of the earth, societies, cultures, beliefs and so forth. Evolution you could say. This is fact. I know. I researched it myself. It has something to do with the astrological alignment of the planets and stars and the potent energy that's created during those alignments. December 21, 2012 supposedly has put into full alignment another twenty five thousand year shift, taking us - cosmologically speaking - from the house of Pisces into the Age of Aquarius – which represents a new awakening of consciousness that will bring true brotherhood among human beings. Problem is there are forces, men, a group of elites to be a little more specific, that have plans to prevent that from happening, because they want to continue to dominate and control all aspects of human existence. Brotherhood, individual thinking and being in touch with our true essence and power is a direct threat to their agenda. It means being free."
"Sounds like conspiracy theory on steroids," Leonard said. "Now, I do believe there is a corrupt elite calling the shots, but…"
"The rabbit hole's far deeper than you realize, brother."
"Okay. Given that – How do the elite plan to… stop this emerging brotherhood?" Leonard asked, engrossed in Gabriel's conversation.
"According to Lawrence," Gabriel said, "Fear. All this talk of terrorism and doomsday scenarios and threats of war, financial collapse, racial division, etcetera… are meant to keep us all preoccupied with fear. Because as long as we focus on and feel fearful we can never realize and develop into the true spiritual beings we're meant to be. Fear blocks us from becoming."
"So… my brother supposedly has the counter-solution to the elites plan."
"I suppose he felt he did." Gabriel said.
"You said he was deep. I didn't how deep until now," Leonard said a degree of surprise and regret in his voice, then he grew quiet, contemplative.
The mood change did not go unnoticed by Gabriel. "You okay?" He asked.
The book on his lap, Leonard sat back against the couch and said, "Just sorry I didn't… stay in touch with Lawrence for the last five years."
"He spoke of you often," Gabriel said. "He was proud of you. He admired your courage. He joked you more courage sometimes than brains."
Leonard smiled along with Gabriel.
"What happened between you two anyway? Gabriel ventured. "Lawrence never spoke about it."
"Scotch," Leonard requested. "You have any?"
"Sure," Gabriel obliged, rising from his lounge chair to go to the bar.
"Straight, please," Leonard said. "A little ice. I don't normally drink. Throws my abilities off a bit, but since I'm in remission anyway I may as well take advantage of it and relax."
As Gabriel started pouring the Scotch, he asked, "Happens after you invade somebody, uh?"
"Invade," Leonard repeated not offended by the humor. "Yeah."
"How long does it last?"
"Varies. Can go three days."
"Tell you what," Gabriel said, "I'll join you, but not with a drink. I'm rolling a joint. We go out on the patio and chill and talk under the bright moon and stars – how's that?"
"Sounds righteous," Leonard said. "But last time I was outside it didn't feel like sitting-on-the-patio-moon-bathing-under-the-stars weather. My blood's been thinned by the Australian climate."
"Don't worry about it. I have a solution at hand."
"I should be surprised."
Gabriel's solution was in the form of a glass enclosed patio with vinyl cladding. The interior was modestly but stylishly designed with two Mac Motion 819 series black leather recliners and ottomans placed at a conversational distance and angle. Both items were designed with a 360 degree swivel base made of super clean natural shade wood. A five piece wrought-iron dining set with cushioned chairs was arranged in the middle of the patio. Aside from the natural silvery light of the moon, placed at each corner of the patio were Himalayan salt-lamps of varying geometric shapes that gave off a soft orange/white volcanic lava glow and created a relaxing ambiance. An anti-gravity lounge chair occupied a space between the sliding door entrance and a black free-standing electric stove comfortably aglow with a natural looking wood-burning fire. The floor was of high quality, synthetic grass that felt natural beneath bare feet. One had the feeling of actually being outdoors without actually being outdoors. It was a cozy, warm, inviting retreat that offered a perfect view of a full moon and a night sky freckled with stars. Sitting in one of the recliners with his legs propped up on the ottoman, slowly sipping his Scotch, Leonard gazed wistfully at the sky, as he waited for Gabriel, who was standing outside coolly smoking a joint.