The Henchman



    There are many people and professions in the world to which the name of henchman can apply. Palace guards, infantry soldiers, an evil genius’ minions, bouncers, even your local beat policeman. There are three things that the employers of henchman usually look for, which are a) the capacity to look tough or intimidating, b) the  ability to hold one’s bladder for an entire shift and c) the kind of unintelligent yet stubborn, stolid and stoic mind that is capable of doing the same, mildly unpleasant tasks from day to day without thinking too much, because excess thinking tends to disrupt one’s unshakable loyalty to one’s master. Employers of henchman take great care in hiring those with such traits.

    There is one small problem with this approach. In times of low employment, occasionally you get someone with the intelligence to act stupid. For example, one Geoffrey Brutus and Thomas Powell.


:- The Secret Fortress
:- On a volcanic tropical island
:- Somewhere on the Pacific Rim

    Geoffrey Brutus mused to himself as he lay in his bunk, thumbing through a handful of copied files, which were technically only for the Dark Master’s eyes. Doing your job today, he thought, was probably less work than ensuring one had a job tomorrow. It definitely required more thinking about. At the moment, Brutus was perusing the data files on the upper echelons of the evil organisation. The Dark Master, being the person for whom the files were intended for, did not have a file of his own, but he wasn’t particularly difficult anyway. Name: Dave Rupert, aka the Dark Master. Ex DARPA bigwig, got fed up with constant budget cutbacks and made off with a handful of technology and researchers. Funded by his own investments in oil and other resource companies, several of which he owns outright. Very ambitious, yet not very imaginative or creative. Brutus had occasionally wondered whether he should create a file for his own benefit, but it would hardly have been very interesting. No. 2’s file, on the other hand, was. Most of it was actually filled with photos, from her earlier career as a model, but there was a distinct lack of text where most other files would have been listing qualifications. What was listed instead, to Brutus’ casual amusement, were her measurements. Blonde, five foot ten, E cup and a weight that, to Brutus’ eye, must be erring on the optimistic side. It was depressingly easy to see why she had been hired and rather annoying that she was, technically, the second most powerful person in the organisation. No. 3, on the other hand…
Brutus put the files to one side and sighed as the pager at his waist went off. It wasn’t just his unofficial activities that took up his off-duty time. All to often his day job did as well.

    Brutus marched stiffly into No. 5’s office, closely followed by Tom, whom he had picked up along the way. He saluted. No 5, always a stickler for the regulations, acknowledged it before picking up a few papers from his desk.
“It has been noted,” He began, “That the two of you have been working excessively well in guarding the Secret Fortress not only against intruders, but also against the much more dangerous enemies of sloth, laziness and traitorous thought. Such an example befits the first and second of the Henchman.”
“Yes sir!” Brutus replied. “Thank you sir!”
Last week’s machinations against a lesser, more loyal Henchman had gone well.
“In light of your recent good work, our lord the Dark Master has rewarded you with the chance to further prove your loyalty!”
“Thank you, sir.” Brutus replied again, his heart sinking. More work, it seemed, was looming on the horizon.
“You are to head the mission in Siberia. The Dark Master has decided that a certain scientist would be a fine addition to our research staff.”
“You want us to kidnap him?”
“Exactly. The full details are explained here.” No 5 pushed a depressingly thick file across the desk. Brutus picked it up and opened it. Names, addresses, transport arrangements and other matters of note were written up in a dense block of text with the occasional map or diagram.
“We’ll need a computer and a camera for survei…” Brutus began.
“Standard field kit will be provided, nothing extra.” No. 5 interrupted, causing Brutus to scowl briefly. There was a beep from the laptop on his desk. He opened the lid and typed in his password.
“Ah, it seems my presence is required.” He declared as Brutus’ eyes flicked from the laptop, with it’s label saying ‘No. 5 – Personal Machine – DO NOT TOUCH’, to the security camera handily positioned in the corner behind the desk.
“Yes sir. We’ll get right on it, sir.”


:- Outside a corporate research office building
:- Outskirts of an undisclosed Russian town
:- Siberia, Russia

    The Russian research building sat on the outskirts of the local town, nestled in a small valley. Halfway up the snowy hill, overlooking the building was a small shack. Tom, as usual, sat stoically in their hide, constantly watching the building, barely noticing the sub-zero cold. Brutus, however, found it real trouble. Even with the thick fur coat, he was shivering. He entertained a few thoughts regarding the petty vengeance he might get on No 5 when he got back, a thought that gave him a nice warm feeling inside that lasted for all of two seconds.
“The target is leaving the building.” Tom commented, his eye still stuck to the scope.
“Uh huh.” Brutus replied. He was presently occupied at the far side of the hut, watching the image on a laptop.
“The same time that he has done for the last eight days.”
“Uh huh.”
“There aren’t any guards either…” Tom continued pointedly.
“Uh huh.”
“So…why haven’t we kidnapped him yet?” Tom queried.
“Because he’s not the only one we need.” Brutus replied enigmatically, his eyes not moving from the monitor. “We need her as well.”
“Who?” Tom asked, turning away from the scope and moving to look over Brutus’ shoulder.
“Her.” Brutus replied, pointing. “And unfortunately, she isn’t quite as ready as our scientist friend is in leaving the sanctity of the building.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t smoke, she brings her lunch in with her every morning, gets a lift with two other workers in and out and doesn’t seem to feel the need for a breath of fresh air.”
“I meant why do we need her.” Tom retorted patiently, oblivious to Brutus’ deliberate misinterpretation.
“Either we need to figure out some way to get inside and get her alone, or we need to tempt her outside.” Brutus mused, ignoring Tom’s question instead.
“Well that’s easy enough.” Tom opined.
“How?” Brutus asked, looking at his partner in mild surprise. He’d been thinking his way around this problem for days.
“The woman seems to be a secretary of a sort.” Tom noted. “She sits closest to the door of her office and she sits at her desk to eat, rather than heading to the canteen. Also, during the morning on Mondays and Thursdays, a delivery van drives up to the building with two men in with stuff for several offices, hers included.”
“What are you working towards, here?”
“All we have to do is hijack the van and make the delivery at lunchtime rather than morning. If only one of us gets out, then when we go to the reception, we can hand the stuff out to the other offices, then when we deliver the boxes to hers, we claim we have more and ask for a hand. If we tranquillise the scientist just before we hijack the van, we can leave him here and pick him up and throw him in the back of the van with her.”
“How did you come up with that?” Brutus asked.
“I just logically work it out from the available facts.”
“Not bad. But, again, you’ve failed to consider a few particulars.”
“Like what?” Tom asked, his brow creasing.

    Tom stood in the middle of the icy road, just out of sight of the research building, his hand held out in front of him in an authoritative manner. The approaching delivery van slowed to a halt.
“What’s the problem?” The driver asked impatiently, leaning out of his window to shout at Tom.
“This is the problem, my friend.” Brutus replied in the local language, a few inches away from the man’s elbow, making him jump.
“What…” he began.
“Transport Authority.” Brutus snapped, flashing his photo-id card at a speed carefully calculated to give the man just enough time to identify him, but not enough for him to make sense of the tiny wording. “We have reason to believe that your company may be harbouring stolen goods.
“Stolen goods?” the passenger exclaimed. “We don’t…”
“Can I see your drivers licences and work ID please.” Brutus asked, cutting him off again.
“And can you exit the vehicle, please?” Tom asked, opening the door on the other side.

A couple of thumps, a trip back to the hide and a quick change of clothes later…

    Brutus pressed the button on the intercom.
“Hello?” it crackled back.
“Hi, I have a delivery here for offices 1.3, 1.5, 1.6 and 2.4.”
“I’ll buzz you in.”
Brutus strode in confidently as the doors slid opened, stopped to balance the box he was carrying on one knee as he waved his ID at the receptionist. The box tipped and Brutus whipped his hand back as he tried to catch it and failed. Paper slid across the floor.
“Blast it.” He cursed. “Can I have a hand?”
The receptionist got up reluctantly and began gathering the papers.
“What happened to the usual guy?” she asked as she shuffled a handful into a neat stack.
“The company shuffled the shifts around after the recent recruiting.” Brutus explained. “That’s what I gathered, anyway.”
“You’re new?”
“Yeah. Hell of a new day so far. Beginner’s bad luck, maybe.”
The receptionist shrugged, evidently not particularly interested in speaking. Brutus finished gathering the stuff he’d tipped onto the floor, then proceeded to distribute the various boxes. Then he got to the girl’s office. She looked up as he entered, lowering her sandwich and glancing at the clock.
“Y…” She began but Brutus overtook her.
“Is this place usually so empty?” He asked, parking his box on the nearest desk
“It’s lunchtime.” She remarked.
“Blast. Sorry. Been running late all day. You know what it’s like, your first day at work. Where should I put this?”
“The cupboard over there.” She pointed.
“Cheers. I’ve got a few more boxes to bring through, could you give me a hand?”
“Can’t you manage it?”
“Health and Safety. They tell me I’m not supposed to carry more than one box at a time.”
“Oh, fine then.”

One brief scream and a slammed door later…

    “So why are we not kidnapping the scientist now?” Tom asked as the van shook.
“Patience.” Brutus told his partner, raising his voice over the hysterics coming from the rear of the van. “We’ll wait until she quietens down. After that we’ll…”

    The researcher stepped out of the office building and looked at the sky. It was beginning to snow, a few lazy flakes floating down. He hurried over towards the smoking shelter, lifting a cigar to his lips. He leaned back against the wall, lit the cigar with a match and took a deep pull, tossing the smouldering matchstick away. Presently, a second figure hurried over to the shelter with a cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the wall a polite distance away. Cupping his hands around the tip of the cigarette, he attempted to light up. He cursed and tried again, then resorted to one of humanities little peculiarities of hitting something that was broken in the hope that more undirected violence would fix it again. Eventually, the researcher spoke up.
“Need a light?” He asked, proffering his box of matches. As he turned, a shadow loomed up behind him.
“Cheers.” Brutus said, puffing casually as Tom clubbed the researcher across the head, catching him as he fell and swinging him neatly over his shoulder.


:- The Secret Fortress
:- 1 Magma Falls
:- Somewhere on the Pacific Rim

    The Dark Master stood on a small platform overlooking the room. In true Dr Evil style, the floor of the room was made of stiff wire grating with a large reinforced seam down the middle, just to make it obvious that the floor could, at a push of a button, split and slowly retract into the walls. Below, far far below, a magma flow spat and bubbled. The room was uncomfortably warm and smelled strongly of brimstone. In the middle of the room, suspended from the ceiling by two large mechanical arms, was a table to which the researcher was strapped. Next to the table, also attached to the ceiling via a robotic arm, was a console and a rack of very sharp looking instruments. In the background, audible over the low grumbles of the molten rock, the thrum of the ventilation and air conditioning systems assured the occupants that great effort was being expended in keeping the air breathable. Brutus and Tom were standing at attention, behind the Dark Master. Both wore intimidating expressions, but Brutus was bored to tears by the Dark Master’s speech.
“…when your work finally places the world at my feet, where it ought to be, you will sit at my right hand as the man who made it possible.”
“Uh, what was that again?” The researcher asked meekly. “And why do you have me tied up here?”
The Dark Master glowered and his finger briefly hovered over a particularly portentous red button.
“I wish to use your scientific research and skills to aid me in world domination.” He growled, waving a hand at the two henchman. “Aid me and you will be richly rewarded.” He continued as Brutus and Tom took up positions beside the restrained scientist.
“Refuse and the boys get to…have their fun.”
The researcher’s uncertain, nervous eyes turned to the array of implements.
“I’d never use my talents in such an immoral endeavour.” He quavered.
“Brutus, if you would please demonstrate?” The Dark Master requested in a casual turn.
Brutus, irritated at the way the researcher’s eyes immediately turned to the bulk that was Tom, saluted.
“Yes sir.” He acknowledged, picking up a thin, pointed sliver of wood. As he positioned it carefully under one fingernail, the Dark Master provided a commentary.
“My men are quite, quite skilled in this area.” He remarked, leaning forward on the rail with casual interest. “Apparently, one’s fingernails are quite sensitive. The pain one can cause with a simple splinter can be…excruciating. Of course, if you can hold out that far, then there are many more vital areas that could be addressed. A simple knife, scorpion venom, carefully applied heat and electricity…there are untold ways of inflicting pain.”
Brutus, knowing how this was supposed to go, put a little light pressure on the splinter, pushing it about a millimetre into the scientist’s shaking hand. He gave a short gasp, and began breathing sharply as Tom lifted a huge knobbly thing of a shape not dissimilar to a desert cactus.
“Ok, ok!” he said, giving in. “I’ll work for you.”
“Excellent.” The Dark Master declared. “Brutus and Thomas will show you to your quarters. Shortly thereafter, you will be shown your new workplace. Please submit your request for equipment to them. Oh, Brutus, once you’re finished here, please see to it that the trapdoor in my office gets repaired. It’s been sticking lately.”
“Yes, sir.” Brutus replied as the Dark Master sauntered out.
“Thank god.” The researcher let out a long breath. He glanced at Tom and Brutus alternately. “He does like the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he? Can you let me out of this now?”
Brutus and Tom shared a glance, then Brutus tapped a couple of buttons on the console. The table abruptly lifted off the floor, span a hundred and eighty degrees to face downwards, then shot towards the floor to the sound of the researcher’s scream. It stopped with his nose half an inch above the grating. The hiss and growl of the lava flows far below suddenly sounded more onerous and hungry.
“What in blazes are you guys doing?” The researcher asked, suddenly fearful again.
“See, it’s like this.” Brutus remarked, appearing in the man’s limited field of vision. “We’re going to lead you a little piece of logic.”
“What?”
“First of all, let’s assume that you follow the Dark Master’s wishes and help him achieve world domination. What do you think would happen?”
“I’d be rewarded. He said so.”
“And I can say that my colleague Tom over there is a nine foot Amazonian warrior woman, but that doesn’t make it true. The Dark Master is evil. The clue’s in the name. And as such, he isn’t required to tell the truth. The best that will happen to you is that you will end up being his puppet.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess it makes sense.”
“On the other hand, if you were to try and escape or suchlike, your efforts would be detected quickly and efficiently and you would then end up as piranha food.”
“What’s your point?” The researcher wailed, still staring at the dull red rock pit. Suddenly, the table rose again and he was pivoted the right way up.
“What we are going to do is offer you a third way, a way out.”
“You’re going to let me go?”
“Hah, no. We want you to go away and work. Research, just as the Dark Master wants you to. But instead of trying to develop the next doomsday weapon, you will slowly build the project, keep his hopes alive until you have a weapon that very nearly works!”
“Huh?”
“Play politics. Keep him happy, but never give him what he wants. We will help in that. Simply keep the Status Quo and believe me, if you begin to alter it too much in either direction, we’re going to have some very well-fed fish around here.”
“Why should I? What’s stopping me relaying everything you’ve just said to the Dark Master?”
“I’m so glad you asked that.” Brutus remarked. “See, we can give you something that the Dark Master can’t. The Status Quo will ensure you are well treated and paid. You will even get leave once Dave…”
“Dave?”
“The Dark Master…once he is sure of your loyalty. We, on the other hand, can give you her.”
“Who?”
Brutus clicked another button on the console. Immediately, a projected image of the secretary he’d put so much effort into kidnapping appeared on one wall. Presently, she was sitting on the bunk in a basic cell, staring blankly at the opposite wall.
“Imagine life from her point of view right now. She’s been kidnapped and thrown into a van. Her life’s been turned upside down. Suddenly, there’s you, an anchor to her old life, a comfort. When we threw you into the back of the van after clubbing you, she cradled your head in her lap until we separated you two. We’ll arrange for her to be placed in a support role for you, a personal assistant if you will. Act certain and confidant and she will follow in your stride for every hour you spend in this place.”
There was a long silence as the researcher absorbed this.
“Of course, should anything go amiss or should you refuse, you wouldn’t be the only one in danger.” Brutus added with a hint of malice.
“Ok, ok. You have your deal.” The researcher acceded, lust lighting up his eyes. “My loyalty lies with you.”
“Very good.”
Brutus and Tom proceeded to unbuckle the silent researcher from the table and installed him in his quarters, where he sat and stared thoughtfully at the wall. As they walked back amongst the corridors, Tom spoke up.
“That was what you wanted her for, wasn’t it.” He stated. “You needed a lever, some kind of emotional attachment. Some way you could be certain of ensuring his loyalty and prolonging the Status Quo.”
“Exactly, Tom.” Brutus confirmed. “Some people won’t be persuaded by logic alone.”
“And you’ve now insured his loyalty.”
“Yep. And he knows he will be well treated. I left a bottle of vodka in his desk drawer, a little welcoming gift.”
“Where did you get that?”
“You know when we had to grab that whiskey for the Geek? Well I grabbed a few more bottles, just in case.” Brutus explained before suddenly grinning. “But before we go and report to No. 5, let’s see about that bloody trap door.”

    ”Well?” No. 5 demanded as the Henchman stood to attention in front of his desk. “Could you explain to me why we now have a perfectly innocent woman in the cells? Have you any idea what it cost to ship her over here as well as the scientist? She’s practically worthless!”
“She discovered the kidnapping in progress, sir.” Brutus explained.
“So? Why didn’t you make sure she wouldn’t talk, then dump her somewhere?”
“After we captured her, I thought her face looked familiar. So I took a look back through our surveillance records and found that she was the one who collated his results, recorded his experiments, kept his files. These files, sir.” Brutus handed his boss a sheath of files. No. 5 took them and gave them a cursory flick-through.
“These are the records of all his experiments so far.” He commented.
“Most of them, sir. I could only grab a handful during our incursion.”
“Hmm. These will be useful, a valuable treasure indeed. They will save several months of treading old ground.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well thought out, loyal henchman.” No. 5 praised them. “Of course, this woman knows these files, so we will have her put in a support role for this scientist. She will… streamline things. Of course, she will also undoubtedly provide some measure of comfort to the scientist and, if he gets difficult…of course, I wouldn’t have expected you to think of that. Good work.”
“Of course not, sir.” Brutus acknowledged, saluting. “Thank you, sir.”
“Good work.” No. 5 repeated. “By the way, have you seen my laptop? It appears to have gone missing.”
“No, sir.”
“Please examine the CCTV tapes to try and track it down.” No. 5 sighed. “It was my own personal machine and had some valuable files on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And now I have to go and see the Dark Master about some alleged emails. Dismissed.”


:- Outside a corporate research office building
:- Outskirts of an undisclosed Russian town
:- Siberia, Russia

    In a familiar little shack, halfway up a snow-covered hill, something blinked. The screen, the one Brutus had used not so long ago to patch into the research building’s CCTV, stood idle aside from the blinking cursor like and, in the top right corner, a number counting down. It reached zero. Suddenly the laptop whirred into life, the screen brightening as it opened the Secret Fortresses’ internal email system. It auto-selected ‘new mail’ and began typing. The email, addressed only to ‘2’, consisted of a near constant stream of insults and abuse. The machine signed it ‘5’ and sent it before falling back into it’s idle state. The counter counted down… 9999… 9998…. 9997… ticking away in the empty, cold room.


:- The Secret Fortress
:- Volcano Island Central
:- Somewhere on the Pacific Rim

    ”You wanted to speak with me, my lord?” No. 5 asked as he entered the Dark Master’s office, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Yes.” The Dark Master replied as No. 5 walked up the length of the office. “Regarding some internal, harassing emails.”
“I…” No. 5 began, just has he stepped on to the suspiciously square rug right in front of the Dark Master’s desk. There was a click and No. 5 suddenly disappeared with a scream. There was a distant splash. The Dark Master sighed and pushed the button on the intercom.
“No. 2, can you please get the henchman to come back up here and take another look at this trapdoor? No, it’s not sticking any more. Oh, and can you get someone to fish No. 5 out of the shark tank?”




The Henchman is copyright of Inkblot (2009)