The Henchman



Episode Three, part one


    This is how most henchman begin. They start off, as kids, in street gangs, perfecting the art of standing behind their leader or lieutenant and looking tough as their front-man spoke of viciousness. These being street gangs, often the talk failed and the henchman would be required to fight for their gang and, as the fights got more intense, for their own lives, while the front-men suddenly became back-men. Henchman are tough… such a life weeds out the weak or uncoordinated. When a gang inevitably fails and splits (usually because a front-man doesn’t drop back quickly enough), the henchman find themselves in another gang. As the henchman grow up, they end up in larger, more official gangs, known to the world as organisations, businesses and corporations. For the very best, they end up in The Secret Fortress. However… wind back a bit, back to the street gangs. There exists another type of person. A person who realises more than the other henchman that his future and security is tied to the front-men. That guarding their lives, protecting them not only from a knife blade but from their own stupid mistakes, in turn maintains their livelihood. A person who, incidentally, knows that while he sometimes has to charge into the fray, knows that it’s sensible never to be right at the front of a charge and incidentally invests in some decently protective clothing. A different kind of henchman who knows the value of planning and intelligence in conjunction with violence.



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

    Brutus was lounging in his chair, feet up on the console, holding a box of popcorn in the classic cinema pose of one enjoying a good film. In front of him were the myriad screens that were linked to the Secret Fortress’ extensive CCTV network. The Dark Master was a paranoid master, so the cameras were placed everywhere, many camouflaged and hard to see. Brutus, however, was even more paranoid, or at least more nosey, which is why the set of headphones he was currently wearing were connected to the secret bugging equipment that accompanied most of the cameras. On the screen in front of him, Chris Rhomford, the latest addition to the Secret Fortress’ research team, was in his room, trying to console Anya, his secretary (whom Brutus had kidnapped at the same time).
“Oh Chris!” Anya lamented, launching herself from the doorway straight at him. “Whatever are we going to do?”
Obviously unused to women flinging themselves at him, Chris put his arms around her shoulders gingerly.
“There, there.” He tried, buying time to think.
Brutus sniggered.
“They’re going to keep us here!” the woman sobbed. “They’re not even holding us for ransom, they’re just going to keep us here!”
“You have been treated well so far?” Chris asked.
“I…yes.” She conceded, calming down. “The room’s really quite nice and the rest of the admin people are friendly and kind.”
“Then it’s not so bad, right?”
It better hadn’t be, Brutus thought to himself. The researchers got a nice suite of rooms ever since the Dark Master had found that they worked faster when they were well provided for. The rooms included a small but well furnished bedroom, en suite bathroom and a well sized living room cum office. Unlike the henchman, most of whom slept in the barracks, admin staff at least got a room to themselves, but trying to get a suite for this secretary had cost him a pretty penny. All to keep Chris loyal to him.
“But what of our families?” She had continued, revving up on the despair again. “What of our friends and loved ones? Will we never see them again?”
Bull. I happen to know that Chris there has no family since his parents dies and he moved from the states and he didn’t make friends easily. Also you, my dear, have only a brother who lives in Moscow who doesn’t get on with you and you spent all your evenings in front of the TV, Brutus’ cynical mind supplied.
“They’re treating us well now, but what’s stopping them from changing that? They could throw us in a cell within the week!”
“Relax.” Chris intervened. “They are just interested in my research. As long as I work for them, they’ll continue to treat us very well, and pay us well too.”
“And after that?” she asked looking up.
“Don’t worry. We’ll work and bide our time. We’ll wait until their guard is down, then we’ll make our move. We’ll be back in Russia within a year and have such a story to hand to the newspapers.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Chris replied sincerely, though Brutus smugly noted the hesitation in his voice and the slight crossing of his fingers behind his back. Still, he might have to have a small chat against any unwise moves he might be thinking of making.
Anya sighed, despair abated.
“I knew I could count on you.” She said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. Chris, though had moved his head forward as she moved, making their mouth to mouth encounter a little more… intimate. Anya moved a little closer to him, wrapping her arms tighter around him.
As things escalated, Brutus wondered about certain psychological aspects of humanity. The day that Chris had arrived, Brutus had remarked that Anya would be highly likely to throw herself at him because he would be the one familiar thing in her stressful new circumstance. Brutus wondered if this was true, or whether the confidence boost he had given Chris had done the work in the finest traditions of the self fulfilling proph….
Whoa, where had she been hiding those!? Brutus’ train of thought jumped track as Anya’s blouse hit the floor. The secretary usually dressed very plainly, deliberately playing down her assets, but that blouse must have been under some serious tension to hide those. She could almost compete with No 2! Brutus shook his head and, as the pair tripped over the nearest sofa, leaned forward to turn the monitor off and stop the CCTV recording.
It still being early in the morning, there was very little happening on any of the other monitors, so Brutus leaned back in his chair, put his feet up onto the console again, pulled his hat down over his eyes and tried to doze. Right now, he thought lazily, life was good. In the last few weeks, he’d destroyed the latest doomsday weapon, saved the evil organisation from a large-scale investigation, aided in beginning the next project and introduced one more person to the Status Quo. Now, though, his job was easy, as it always was when a new project had just been started. All he had to do was keep anyone from doing anything stupid or dangerous and meander around the Secret Fortress. And, of course, look forward to his well deserved holiday. Ah yes, his holiday. Most members of the evil organisation got a small amount of leave during the year, despite the difficulty in shipping people ashore and then getting them through the various border checks as they made their way through to their desired destination. When you’ve been missing from mainstream society for several years, your old passport isn’t much use, so there was an entire branch of the evil organisation who specialised in forging the appropriate documents and making the appropriate arrangements merely so people could go on leave. It was a good system, because the limited freedom meant that people were happier to stay on the island during the rest of the year. This year, Brutus had opted for a trip around Europe, spending a few days each in some of the nicest cities the continent had to offer. Paris, Prague, Amsterdam, Geneva… It was going to be a good holiday. But… there was one problem. Brutus lifted the brim of his hat and frowned at the monitor. He had almost no cash. Nothing to spend whilst he was away. The Geek had taken out the last of his capital by getting him to pay for some information that had turned out to be completely useless. So, Brutus thought, scratching his chin, there wouldn’t be much harm in trying to get it back.

    With that thought, Brutus kicked off from the CCTV console and, giving his chair a half-spin, pulled up to his computer desk just across the room. Waking up his PC with a tap of a key, he brought up the video streaming software and dialled the Geek’s number. It took a while to get an answer.
“This is a recording.” The Geek’s reply came, audio only. “I’m afraid the Geek cannot answer right now. Please leave a message after the tone.”
“What tone, John Collins?” Brutus asked.
“That’s ‘The Geek’!” The Geek replied.
“Gotcha.”
“Bugger. Ok, how did you know?”
“I’m the guy with the CCTV in his office,” Brutus told him, “and you always try something like this. Why were you pretending to be away anyway?”
“Never you mind.” The Geek sniffed. “I’m busy, what do you want?”
“The question is: what do you want.” Brutus replied. “I’ve got a vid here that you might be interested in.”
“Oh yeah?” The Geek replied, suddenly keen. Brutus didn’t usually part with such things, just the occasional piece of action.
“Yeah. It seems that a certain busty girl is getting her way as we speak.”
“You’re not talking about No. 2 again, are you?” The Geek asked suspiciously. “I had a devil of a time stopping Dave from finding the last one.” The last video released to the Secret Fortress’ black market had been of him and No. 2.
“Hah. No, it’s not No. 2.”
“Who?”
“Anya. The new researcher’s secretary.”
“Anya? But she’s not particularly big.”
“Watch this clip and call me a liar.” Brutus retorted, pulling the file from the CCTV drives and playing part of it back to the Geek.
“Good god!” He exclaimed. “That must be the only Blouse of Holding in existence.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak Nerd. What was that?”
“Never mind. Is all of it like this?”
“No.” Brutus admitted. “That’s near the end. The rest of it is more…well if you put a good soundtrack on it, it’d be a TV soap.”
“Hmm. Yeah, ok, I think I can do something with it. How much?”
“I dunno…call it fifty?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifty.”
“Thirty.”
“No, fifty.” Brutus repeated stubbornly.
“Ok, fifty.”
“And do you have any of that whiskey left?”
“What whiskey?”
“The stuff I got for you last time.”
“Come off it, that was weeks ago.”
“Ok, never mind. Send a lackey over with the cash.” Brutus replied, clicking the ’send file’ button.
“Will do. Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”
“Talk to you soon, Geek.”
Part one of his plan done and fifty as good as in his pocket, Brutus resumed his snooze.

    He was woken up several hours later, at the mid-morning shift change when two more henchman walked into the security office.
“Boss.” One of them said, shaking him by the shoulder. “Boss, shift’s up.”
“Uh-huh.” Brutus acknowledged, hat still down over his eyes.
“Boss…”
“Yeah, yeah. Ok.” Brutus stretched, opened his eyes and put his feet down.
“There’s a lady who wants to talk with you.” Just behind the bulk of the henchman, hovering in the doorway, stood Anya, wringing her hands.
“Ah, ok.” Brutus stood up and yawned. “I’m going to go get a coffee.”
“Busy night?”
“Duller than watching paint dry.” Brutus remarked as he walked out. “Hope the morning proves more entertaining.”
He yawned again as he passed Anya, who fell in step behind him.
“Give me a minute to wake up.” He said as she started to speak. “If I don’t get some caffeine I’ll be good for nothing all morning. You should get a cup, you look tired too.”
“I, uh, didn’t get much sleep.” She murmured. Brutus glanced sideways at her, noting that there was now no trace of the remarkable bosom he’d glimpsed last night. When covered, it really was nothing special. Lord knows how she did it. He also noted her dejected, depressed expression and wondered if he’d gone too far. He gave a mental shrug. He’d fix it soon enough. Anya said nothing more as Brutus strolled into the cafeteria, got himself a mug of steaming hot coffee and sat down in a corner. Anya sat opposite him, a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.
“So how are you?” Brutus asked. “Settling in OK?”
“Um. So-so.” She replied guardedly.
“Well if there’s anything I can do…”
“Chris said you could help.” She began. “He said you’re the one who really runs this place.”
“Really?” Brutus chuckled. “Well not officially. I suppose I do dabble a little in the politics of this place though.”
“I… need your help.”
“Ok. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Last night, I… uh… spent the evening with Chris.” She murmured, colour rising in her face.
“Well I’m no authority on romance…” Brutus began.
“No, it’s not that. But I got in this morning and there’s this video circling around through everyone’s email. Someone secretly filmed me and Chris!”
“Oh, ouch.” Brutus winced. “Any idea where it came from?”
“Yes. I asked around and everyone seems to have paid one of the hackers for it. I checked and he’s got it advertised on a hidden webpage.”
“Which hacker?”
“I don’t know his name, but he was calling himself a geek…”
“Ah, the Geek. That is what he’s known as, here. If it’s any help, his real name’s John Collins, but few people know him as that. He’s a gifted hacker and a real opportunist.”
“So how do I stop it?” She almost wailed.
“Calm down, calm down.” Brutus said soothingly. “I’m afraid the damage is done, but we can stem the tide somewhat by limiting the spread of the video. After that, we’d have to make sure nothing similar happens again.”
“How do we do that?”
“See that woman over there?” Brutus told Anya, indicating a table on the far side of the cafeteria where No. 2 was tucking in to a large full English breakfast. “Well she’s second in command of this place. A little while ago, she was in this situation and only found out who was behind it much later.”
“So?”
“So in a minute, go over there and have a chat with her. Tell her what’s happened and tell her I sent you. She’ll put the word out quickly that anyone caught with such a video will regret it. That will probably stop you hearing more about it as well.”
Anya sniffed and dabbed at her nose.
“And what’s next? How do we stop it happening again?” She asked.
“That is…more complicated.” Brutus admitted. “The politics of this place are complex. The best way to make sure it never happens again is through revenge. And that can cost.”
“I pay you to get the Geek back for me?”
“No, no. That wouldn’t work. This is psychological, it has to come from you. You have to make it clear that you’re not a walkover, that your revenge will be excruciating. So you have to respond to this insult quickly and viciously.”
“Viciously?”
“Yes. The more vicious, the better.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Well let me think. I don’t mind helping you set this up, as long as I’m not implicated. That would ruin things for you. But there are costs in this. The henchman in the security suite will need to be paid off, but they’re fairly cheap. Ten each will keep their silence. I can wipe the tapes myself, if need be. There’ll be at least two hackers in the Geek’s office, and they’re more expensive. Maybe twenty…”
“So how much will this cost?” Anya asked, starting to look dejected again.
“Tell you what, I’ll take fifty and make sure no-one talks.”
“I thought you wanted people to know it was me.”
“We want them to suspect.” Brutus corrected. “But we don’t want any hard evidence, or it could go official. So we need to make sure no-one talks.”
“Ok, so what are we actually going to do to him?” Anya asked.
“That depends on how far you’re willing to go.” Brutus commented, observing the promising flash of hatred flick across her face. “What we need is something nasty, but not something he’ll want to complain about. That means something embarrassing, and that means something sex-related. Are you willing to lead him on a bit? Flirt a little?”
“Do…do I have to?”
“No, but it’s the best way I can think of.”
“Tell me first.”
Brutus nodded, explaining his idea to her, comfortable in the knowledge that another fifty would shortly come his way. No-one liked the Geek, he was too free with his scheming. Not many people would talk if he got his just desserts, not even if you paid them. Anya listened to him, sat and thought for a while as she finished her cocoa, then nodded. Brutus nodded too, then went about his business as the woman strode purposefully in No. 2’s direction.

    It wasn’t much later in the day that the Geek was found on the opposite side of the island by a pair of patrolling henchman. He was completely naked, tied face first to a coconut palm and had a nasty bump on the back of his head. He also had several welts across his backside, presumably caused by the thin stick lying discarded at his side, a carrot wedged… somewhere and, tied via a short length of string, a piece of meat dangling between his legs. The crabs were already showing an uncomfortable amount of interest.

    Very shortly after that, the appropriate official warning was emailed around from No. 2. Ahead of that, however, ran a more informal warning. Anya, and anyone associated with her, was not to be touched.

To be continued…



The Henchman is copyright of Inkblot (2009)