Watching the conflict in Creed’s eyes was sheer pleasure to Williams. “Take a few moments to think about it, Creed Young. Weigh the rights and wrongs in your own mind. I’m going to step out and grab a cup of coffee. Would you care for a cup?”
“No, thank you, sir,” Creed mumbled deep in thought.
“All right, I’ll be back in a few minutes. And Creed, that’s all the think time you’re going to get, so use it wisely.”
The old doctor stood up with a grace he shouldn’t have been able to manage, and walked purposefully toward the large mahogany doors, opened them and closed them quietly behind himself.
Creed hadn’t moved the entire time he had been in Williams’ presence. What was he going to do? Could he live with himself if he killed this woman, no matter what her crimes? If he didn’t kill her, then he wouldn’t have long to regret it because Commander Oldham would have his head on a silver platter for all the Facility’s metas to see.
Look at what individuality and disobedience gets you, everyone! You get dead, that’s what you get.
So, he takes a rifle and tags the thief right between the eyes long range. He would make it a fast and clean kill. She wouldn’t feel pain, and he wouldn’t have to hear the thump of the bullet hitting her skull. He could completely distance himself from the whole thing.
Then all he’d have to do is coral the meta children and bring them here. Heck, he could shoot them with tranquilizers if he had to. That’s not a lot of work in comparison to the reward of finding his parents.
He’d been dreaming of them for the last fifteen years. What did they look like? Did one of them have his blue eyes? Did he look like his father? Was his mother beautiful? Did she cry for him often and wish things had turned out differently? Were they nice people? Artistic? Musical? Athletic? There were so many questions Creed was aching to have answered.
So all he had to do was this one little assignment and then the rest of his life could begin. Maybe the doctor was right. Sometimes the ends do justify the means.
Williams returned with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. “Well, son? What is your decision?”
“I’m in. What are the logistics of the assignment, sir?” Creed’s mouth formed the words and his mind tried to grasp the meaning of what he had just chosen. His heart tightened in his chest. He was trying to convince himself that this was justifiable homicide.
“Excellent choice, Creed.” The doctor was beaming with satisfaction. “But there is plenty of time to discuss logistics. You still need to rest. Recover completely before you take on this assignment. I’ve waited twelve years for payback, I can wait another week or so.”
The doctor walked to his desk and lifted the black phone to his ear. “Please send Miss Schone up to retrieve our guest.”
Creed’s body ached miserably. His supply of adrenaline that had run like a faucet moments before felt completely cut off now and it left him emotionally and physically drained. Now all he wanted to do was curl up under the covers of his hospital bed and forget everything he just agreed to do.
Farrow arrived with a quick knock at the door. To her credit, she had with her a wheelchair. Without a word she wheeled it to Creed and positioned it right beside the exhausted and pain-filled young man. She held it stable while he tried to ease himself up from the couch and then down into it. Creed felt a wave of gratitude for her thoughtfulness and discretion.
He wanted so badly to turn off his pain, but he didn’t dare do that in front of Dr. Williams. He needed to be believably hurt, and he didn’t know if he was that good an actor. So, he forced himself to suffer.
“We’ll be in touch, my boy. You just focus on recovery for now. Goodbye.” The doctor shook Creed’s hand and stared into his eyes.
“Thank you, sir,” the young meta mumbled and withdrew his hand instinctively, a bit sooner than was socially acceptable.
The doctor didn’t seem to notice.
“Goodbye.”
And with that, Farrow wheeled him out into the hallway, down the elevators and up to the black car waiting to return him to the hospital.
Dr. Williams leaned against the edge of his custom made, hand-carved, mahogany desk and took a sip of his coffee as he watched Farrow wheel Creed Young out of his office. Once the doors shut behind them, he slowly set the mug down on a green marbled coaster, and reached unthinking into his front suit pocket. His fingers found the familiar metallic spheres.
The thought of what it would be like to have Margo Winter killed made him smile with anticipation. He nearly began salivating at the idea of having the three children back so he could continue his research using their blood. To recreate their unique abilities, those that were above and beyond even the most trained meta at the Facility, that was enough for him to walk away from the desk with a slight skip in his step.
3 Justified