Everyone at the Drake estate was waiting to welcome their new guest. Gregory Mackintosh entered the Drake estate in his new wheelchair. The chair, designed and built by William and his team at Drake Industries, implemented a number of novel measures, such as a small electric motor on its drive shaft, which allowed its user a certain amount of independence when it came to moving around and performing alone. Gregory was speechless upon receiving such a gift from Catherine Drake who, along with her sister Gaile, had come to pick him up after his discharge from the military hospital. The Drakes had set up a ramp at the front door of the house so that Gregory could enter and leave as he pleased; the young man made his debut with the new addition to the architecture of the estate, entering what would be his new home, at least for a while.
His hosts stared at the young man as he entered, flanked by his sister and the Drake's firstborn. While he looked much like his sister, there were certain noticeable differences. His hair was a duller red than Abygaile's, almost verging on orange. His face was not as marked by freckles as his sister's, and he had a more tanned skin tone due to his days as an infantry infiltrator. However, his eyes were identical to Gaile's, with an equally intense gaze, with a glint of inquisitive curiosity in his blue-tinted irises. He was a rather tall man, though it was not apparent due to the injury that had relegated him to the wheelchair. He was wiry and his convalescence had aggravated his thinness.
Marion Drake, as always, the family spokesperson in matters of protocol, approached her guest.
- Welcome, Gregory, - she said in her velvety voice, as she clasped Greg's hand in hers. - I hope you and your sister feel at home. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to tell us.
- Thank you, Lady Drake - Greg answered with great politeness. - We thank you for your invitation, I just hope we don't cause you too much trouble.
- Nothing of the sort, and Marion is enough.
Gregory nodded quietly in response. Jack and William stepped forward to greet their new guest. Within an hour of their arrival, Gregory Mackintosh had fit seamlessly into the picture, he and William engrossed in a conversation about possible improvements to the wheelchair and other items to make daily life easier for the severely injured. While the rest of the family had split into small groups. Marion had gone out with her daughter Catherine into the garden; Ruslan, Abygaile and Jack were in the living room playing cards; Constance had left to go to the orphanage, where she had been spending a lot of time lately. While Stanley and Patrice were busy preparing a room for Greg on the first floor of Drake Manor.
…
At the same time, elsewhere in London...
Antoine Sully trembled as he was led to the head of his organization, the Iron Hand. His failure to collect "protection" fees at the Saint James Orphanage had earned him a visit to Vincent Trusk, the organized crime kingpin who had control of London's underworld, every criminal in the city paid tribute to him or worked for him, neither the Armed Police nor the Army dared interfere with his business, apparently, he had connections to very powerful people who protected him even from law enforcement, which had given rise to his nickname, "The Duke". Sully swallowed as they arrived at the door to Trusk's office, he knew few had made it out of that room alive after failing the "Duke". The door opened and one of the men accompanying him pushed him inside.
The office was lit only by a desk lamp placed on the large oak desk, which stood out against a bookcase at the far end of the room. "The Duke" stood behind the table, a cigar in his mouth and a glass of brandy in his hand, he waved his guests forward. Sully advanced, flanked at all times by Trusk's trusted men.
- Well, what happened? - the hoarse voice of the "Duke" tore through the silence that filled the room.
- Mr. Trusk, there were problems with the collection at the orphanage - said Sully in a trembling voice. - A big guy and a wild girl showed up, accompanied by a woman who claimed to be from a foundation or something. They beat us up and forced us to leave.
- There were six of you, - Trusk said without reply.
- That's right, sir, - Sully confirmed.
- And how could three people beat you up when you were twice their number?
- They were very strong, Mr. Trusk, - Sully said in despair. - The big guy beat up three of them by himself, and one of them was one of our best thugs, as big as he was.
The "Duke" let out a puff of smoke from his cigar and stubbed it out, crushing it in an ashtray that rested on his desk. Setting the glass down on the desk, Trusk waved his hand and instantly his men grabbed Sully and forced him to his knees. Trusk stepped out from behind his desk and approached as he pulled a mother-of-pearl razor from his pocket and opened it to reveal the silver blade. Antoine Sully's wild eyes could not take his eyes off the edge of the blade.
- Please, Mr. Trusk, I will not fail you again, - Sully begged.
- You're right, I know you won't do it again, - the "Duke" said emphatically.
Trusk slid the sharp blade of his knife across Sully's gullet, from side to side, as if cutting butter, only a slight hiss followed by a gurgling sound. The thug brought his hands to his severed neck, and fell forward as he tried, in vain, to breathe; after a few seconds his feet twitched and finally he lay on the floor perfectly still. Blood soaked the carpet covering the office floor. Trusk looked back at his men as he wiped the knife with his handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.
- Get this mess out of here, and bring me a new carpet.
The "Duke's" subordinates rolled the corpse into the carpet and carried it out of the room between the two of them. Trusk took out a cigar case from the inside pocket of his jacket. Suddenly a match was struck in the darkness surrounding one corner of the room, and the ember of a cigarette lit up in a wisp of smoke. A shadow detached itself from the wall of the office and advanced to offer fire to Trusk, who had taken a cigar out of his case. The shadowy guest's face remained hidden in shadows by his tall top hat and the veil of tobacco smoke.
- Mr. Trusk, I think we have a problem in common - the shadow said with parsimony.
- And does this problem have a name? - the "Duke" asked.
- Drake - the shadowy interlocutor answered quietly. - Ruslan Drake.
- Well, we'll have to make him understand his mistake, - Trusk replied.
- I doubt he will listen to reason.
- That depends on the motivation he is given, - Vincent Trusk said.
- Then I leave the matter in your experienced hands, - the shadow said, as he walked to the office door, picked up his cane and walked out leaving a trail of smoke behind him.
…
Marion Drake was watering the flowers in her planters at the estate when someone hugged her from behind, the surprise almost caused the watering can in her hands to end up in the air.
- Where they give, they take - William Drake said jokingly.
- William Drake, don't give me those scares - Marion replied with a serious look on her face. - Next time I'll put the watering can in your hat, and without emptying it first.
William laughed at his wife's half-faked outburst. She turned her face so that she could give him a furious look.
- You laugh, but when you least expect it....
- Come on dear, it was just an innocent joke - William said justifying himself.
- Well, if you want to make it up to me, I can think of several ways - Marion replied with mock indignation.
- Like what for example? - her husband asked hugging her around the waist.
- Like for example... – Marion answered, and turning around she put the watering can in his hands. - Finishing watering the planters while I take care of planting the new seeds.
The Drake matriarch burst into laughter at the sight of her husband's dejected face, who, half in sympathy, half in disappointment, began to tend to the planters with a crestfallen look on his face. Marion grabbed his arm to get his attention.
- Finish with the planters and we'll take a break for breakfast, okay? - the Drake matriarch said warmly.
- That's done, - William replied with more encouragement, while his wife Marion kissed him on the cheek.
- And now get to work - she urged him.
Meanwhile, in the library of the Drake mansion, Gregory was trying to reach a book from one of the shelves, but due to his new limitation it was too high for him. At that moment a female hand reached up parallel to his to the tome he wanted to take. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Catherine Drake, smiling at him and holding out the leather-bound volume.
- Good morning, Greg, - Cathe said in a melodic voice.
- Good morning, Catherine - Gregory replied somewhat self-consciously, he still hadn't gotten used to seeing her appear suddenly, it still caused a knot in his chest.
- When are you going to start calling me Cathe? - she replied with a slight pout.
Gregory smiled at the delicate gesture as he accepted the book offered to him by his interlocutor.
- I'm still getting used to it - said Greg, and added calmly. - Cathe.
Catherine's face lit up at the mention of his nickname, and putting her hands on Gregory's shoulders she pushed him over to the reading table where she sat down across from him.
- Any interesting reading? - asked the young Drake.
- Of course, you have a magnificent library, with the best volumes on the most diverse subjects and ... - Gregory stopped his animated peroration when he saw the smile on Catherine's face, and blushed.
- It is charming to see you so dazzled by a hobby, - she said out of the blue.
Gregory blushed even more, it seemed he bore yet another resemblance to his sister Gaile. He glanced at Catherine, who was still smiling with her face resting on both hands, her elbows on the table.
- Research is my passion, - said Gregory. - I think I've always wanted to know everything about every subject.
- You're naturally curious, that's a good thing.
- I guess, although sometimes I get in trouble for it. You only have to look at me to know that, - Greg said despondently.
- Don't worry, I'm sure my father will be able to help you - she said putting her hand on Greg's with a smile.
Gregory smiled back at Catherine. The book that had interested him so much a few minutes ago, rested forgotten on the side of the table, while the two young people chatted affably.
Gaile was exploring the Drake mansion, when he heard some knocking that caught his attention. Following the sound, he found himself in a room set up as a gymnasium. The source of the pounding was Ruslan, who was training by hitting a sandbag hanging from a bracket on the wall. The young Drake stopped pounding when he sensed someone entering the room, and turned toward the door. His torso was bare, so Gaile could see the scars on his right side and shoulder, though they were not the only ones, his body was scarred in multiple places from old wounds suffered in combat. Gaile realized he had been staring at Ruslan for a while, and blushed. He grabbed his shirt from a rack at the back of the room and covered himself, before approaching the young Mackintosh.
- Hello Gaile - he said evenly.
- Good morning Ruslan - Gaile replied, regaining his composure. - I didn't know you had a gym in the house.
- Oh yes, my mother prepared it for me when I was a kid, - said Ruslan looking around.
- You were already preparing yourself to the maximum when you were a child, weren't you? - Gaile asked, approaching a weight bench.
- Yes, I was always getting into trouble that ended in a fight, so my mother thought I needed training.
- You were a pretty adventurous kid.
- According to my mother I tended to attract trouble, - said Ruslan smiling, and looking back at Gaile he added. - Do you want to train too?
- Huh?! - Gaile's surprise was great. - I don't know if I would even know where to start.
- That's what I'm here for, where do you want to start?
- How can I get stronger? - she asked with interest. - I want to be able to take on guys bigger than me.
- Well, that's where I think I can help you, - answered Ruslan, and approaching her they began to plan the young girl's training.
At the same time in the Saint James orphanage, the children were running after Constance, while Alexandra watched them smiling sitting on the stairs of the porch. Soon the young ex-military woman was exhausted and sat down next to Alex to rest while the children continued to run around the garden.
- Ahhh! These kids have so much energy, - sighed Connie deeply.
- They are so much more cheerful now that they have someone else to play with, I couldn't keep up with them as easily as you, Connie - Alex said smiling.
- It must be very hard work taking care of the orphanage all by yourself - Constance commented kindly.
- Well, I always have a lot of work, but the Drakes always come at least once a week to see how we are doing - Alex answered. - Besides, thanks to the Foundation we have all our expenses covered.
- And how did you meet the Drakes? - Connie asked. - Marion says that you and Ruslan are childhood friends.
- Yes, we met at this very orphanage, I was just another orphan living here, and when Marion took over the administration and funding, she started coming to visit us. Ruslan started to introduce himself and his mother. That was about 17 years ago. Eventually Ruslan ended up coming almost every day to hang out with us, and we ended up having some pretty crazy adventures.
- Did we? Tell me about some of them, - Connie said insistently.
- Well, I remember one time several kids from the noble district took it out on us, and Ruslan....
Connie listened attentively to Alex's story, commenting on some specific fact, and laughing at some of the more unlikely occurrences. The children were still playing, but every now and then they looked up at the two young women and smiled. No one noticed the shadow lurking in a nearby alley, watching the comings and goings in the orphanage.
The Drake Foundation offices were located on the third floor of the Burke Building, a century-old building in central London. Marion Drake walked through the door and greeted the receptionists, who were serving the large crowd packed into the waiting room. Vanessa Bancroft, the Foundation's second-in-command and Marion's right-hand woman, was waiting for her at her office door.
- Good morning, Marion, - she greeted with good cheer.
- Good morning - Marion returned the greeting. - What do we have for today?
Marion went into her office and Vanessa followed her, as her boss sat behind her desk and prepared for the day, she gave her a brief summary of the agenda.
- Well, we have an urgent visit to attend to, a Vincent Trusk, it seems he wants to propose an avenue of business. Then we have to review a large number of applications for Autolimb prostheses, and finally we have a meeting with several senior members of the Armed Police to improve the security of the Saint James orphanage.
- Well, let's get started, - Marion said encouragingly.
Vanessa nodded and left the office. Barely five minutes later the door opened again, Vanessa walked in with a man trailing behind her. The man in question was in his late fifties, his hair was gray and slicked back, a neat goatee topped his chin and encircled his mouth. His aged face was crossed by a scar that ran from his chin to his left ear, and his gray eyes seemed devoid of light. The man approached the desk and waved his hat at Marion.
- Good morning, Mrs. Drake, - he said in a hoarse, raspy voice. - My name is Vincent Trusk.
- Good morning, Mr. Trusk, - Marion replied affably. - They tell me you have a proposal to make to us.
- That's right, I believe your foundation manages the Saint James Orphanage.
- Yes, that's right, - Marion said with a smile. - Would you like to make a donation?
- You see, my intention is, rather, to offer you a service that you will not be able to refuse.
- You say - Marion gave the initiative to her interlocutor.
- You see, I manage a "security service" so to speak. I think the orphanage needs some surveillance, to avoid possible problems. What's more, my men have been offering such a service to the orphanage for months now, but I'm afraid that when they went to discuss the fees, they had a, let's call it, "run-in".
Marion's gesture changed completely, her normally affable face had turned into a serious and cold countenance.
- So, those miscreants were your men, - she said emphatically.
- Yes, that's right. You see, everyone in the proletarian neighbourhood knows that my organization keeps the peace and prevents "accidents" from happening to people.
- As long as they pay what is asked of them, - Marion interrupted.
Trusk forced a jaded smile, as Vanessa moved to stand behind her boss, in support.
- It's a very affordable fee, I guarantee it, - Trusk continued.
- I have no doubt about it, - said Marion with irony.
Vincent Trusk's face twitched, replacing his smirk with a menacing grin.
- Look, Mrs. Drake, that neighbourhood is under my control, - Trusk said leaning back against the back of his chair. - I can't have them beating up my collectors and refusing to pay the "protection" fee. It would set a bad example for the rest of my "taxpayers".
- Listen to me carefully, Mr. Trusk, - Marion leaned forward, leaning on the desk. - Not only are we not going to "contribute" to your cause, but I am going to personally see to it that your organization is driven out of London, and if possible, out of Albion.
- You should think twice before making threats, - Trusk said, abandoning all traces of diplomacy. - People like you have a lot to lose, what if accidents start happening in your factories, what if you suddenly lose customers from your trade lists? Not to mention your family, that youngest son of yours, such a dodderer, going from pub to pub all over London drinking his head off. He could get into an accident coming home in the wee hours of the morning....
- Enough! - Marion cut him off. - Get the hell out of here.
- As you wish - Trusk replied disdainfully, as he got up and walked towards the office door.
- One thing before you go, Mr. Trusk - Marion caught his attention. - Be careful who you choose to go to war with. Because in my family there are people with great experience in the subject.
Trusk smirked at Marion's veiled threat and, putting on his hat, left the office and headed for the exit. His men were waiting in the waiting room, but when they saw their boss, they followed him out of the building. In all the hubbub of people, no one noticed the briefcase resting under the chair where one of Trusk's lackeys had been waiting, nor the faint ticking that was barely audible through the leather of the suitcase.
Trusk went out into the street with his men, and they climbed into the car that was waiting for them in front of the building's door. Once it had started, a sadistic smile crossed the face of the "Duke" as the vehicle drove away.
At the same time, Armed Police Inspector Ernest Arlington was turning the corner two blocks from the Drake Foundation offices, where he was on his way to participate in a security meeting for the Saint James Orphanage. Suddenly, an explosion blew out the third-floor windows of the Burke Building, sending up a flare. Several people were thrown out of the windows, falling into the street and onto passing or parked vehicles. Inspector Arlington came out of his stupor and ran to help the wounded, who were rushing out of the building amid smoke and debris, bloodied and disoriented by the explosion. A column of smoke rose from the building, visible from all over London, rising into the sky.