Clandestine
1103 Words
Chapter Two: Clandestine.
"I take them, Mr. Cruz" Maria politely offered. Taking a couple packs from him.
Maria's daughter—Lima, who had followed behind her, retrieved the remaining packs from Cruz.
Cruz thanked them and strolled into the mansion.
As he crossed the living room to take the stairs to the hallway, his phone beeped and a message icon appeared on the screen.
The sender was saved as DODOP. He looked around instinctively before clicking on the message.
The message opened up to a blank text environment with just a finger print prompt. He touched the prompt and the message closed up and disappeared from his phone.
Once in his room, he moved briskly to his dresser and pulled a drawer. Inside was a sleek remote controller. He retrieved the device and pressed a button.
The action prompted some bolts to push out from the edges of his room door, sliding into the strike plate on the door frame. Keeping the door firmly locked to any intruder.
Cruz had a poised posture as he moved towards a walk-in closet with the remote in hand. He entered the closet and shut the door.
Then he moved to a shoe rack on one side of the rectangular space. He pulled a shoe from its holder and slid his hand in it, removing the insole.
Underneath it was a button, almost as flat as the surface and unnoticeable. He pressed the button and held it for about 30 seconds.
A humming sound came from inside the wall, then half the shoe rack spun and rotated inward inside the wall and a new surface was in view.
The lower part of the new surface projected outwards and transformed into a seat form.
The upper parts that appeared as a thin glass parted from the middle to the sides and a high definition screen projected forward showing a fingerprint prompt.
Cruz sat down and placed his right index on the prompt and the screen illuminated.
The screen soon displayed a couple of folders, each with headings like: DOJ, DOD, HLS(Classified). And then the folder with DODOP was at one end with a cursor prompt underneath.
Cruz touched the cursor and a virtual keyboard appeared. He entered the word 'SHIELD' and the folder opened.
The full meaning of the DODOP appeared as the file heading: Department of Defense—Office of the President.
There were some code words underneath the heading:
Arrow Fixer Apache. Instruction awaited sir.
Cruz adjusted his posture and typed: EXECUTE.
Immediately he entered the word, some sentences formed with non-English alphabets wrote out automatically and the folder closed and joined the queue of other folders.
Cruz tapped on the screen three times and the screen initiated shutdown.
He stood from the seat and reached for the shoe, he engaged the inconspicuous button again. A minute later, the closet had resumed its original form.
He stepped out of the closet to hear a loud continuous knock on the door.
Cruz frowned as he walked towards the door. He quickly used the remote controller to undo the secure lock and slid the device in his pocket.
As he was about to turn the knob the door flung open.
The polished wood aimed for the middle of his face but his lightning fast motion ensured he evaded the hit.
Margaret glared at him, although a bit shocked as she didn't know how he had dodged the collision.
She swore to herself that she had seen the door hit him, but somehow the moron had magically escaped.
"Mother!" Cruz teased, delighted within himself to see her cringe at his word.
"First of, I have warned you not to ever put the locks on this door again. I thought I removed the keys the last time I was here... So how did you manage to get it locked?"
She jeered at him furiously.
"This is not your house and you're not welcomed here! Not anymore...so you don't have right to any damn privacy."
Her temper was red hot, Cruz had not seen her that angry in the three years he had been married to her daughter. Infact, he was actually worried this time.
Before he could reply, she threw a hand up to hush him.
"Secondly, the next time you address me as mother, I'll make sure I rip that lame tongue of yours out of your damn mouth."
She gnashed her teeth at him.
Cruz smiled and inquired. "I believe you are here for something, mom, what is it?"
"Ahhh!" Margaret exclaimed violently as she clenched her fist.
She threw a fist aimed at his mouth, but he docked with another swift motion to Margaret's displeasure. She gritted her teeth and eyed him condescendingly before responding.
"Just so you know, we will be having the Mayor as guest in a few hours from now, he will be visiting with his wife and Gerald his son who is taking a liking to Lesley, we don't want to give an impression that she isn't available... you know what I mean, so you will do well to not show your face. Understood?!"
Margaret informed him and turned to leave but Cruz retorted.
"But..."
"But what?" Margaret fired back harshly.
"Everyone in Cadbury knows I'm her husband." Cruz replied with a smirk.
"Not anymore moron, we'll inform them that you're separated and soon to be divorced."
Those words cut through Cruz deeply to his soul. For the first time since Margaret started expressing her disapproval of him, her words finally got to him.
He had never nursed the idea that her resentment for him will deteriorate to the point where the issue of divorce would be mentioned.
A dangerous expression contorted his usually handsome face and made it look like he had slid a mask on. He stared at Margaret grimly as she made her way down the hallway.
He grunted and made for Lesley's room.
He knocked a couple of times and when there was no response, he turned the knob. The room was empty with no sign of her there.
He walked to the balcony at the second floor of the mansion where Lesley usually went for some alone time, but she wasn't there.
From the balcony, he scanned the perimeter of the compound that his vision could navigate and then he spotted a figure in the pool some good distance away.
He looked at the figure moving across the water and he could recognize the form.
Lesley had always been a beautiful woman. Her slenderness, her skin texture, and her curvy features would light the flame in any man.
- Writer
