Agent with a History

  *****

  Marshawn drew near the table and stopped. A chess board was laid out on the table. He’d never cared for the game, but he’d found himself stuck playing it with his father on more than one occasion.

  “Tell me Marshawn, do you hate your sister as the others do?” Iya asked, without looking up.

  Marshawn shrugged his shoulders, “She’s threatened nothing of mine. I see no reason to hate her until she does.”

  Iya looked up at him, “Who was your mother?”

  Not at all put out, Marshawn responded, “The French whore from New Orleans.”

  Iya nodded. “I like you Marshawn; you have learned the value of being content with what you have, a virtue that I have never bothered to pursue.”

  Iya pointed to the chess board. “Which one of these pieces are you?”

  Marshawn thought about it for a moment and then pointed to a pawn.

  “Very true and you have value as such, but which of these pieces do you think your sister is?”

  Iya didn’t wait for him to answer, but picked up the queen, “She is the queen, the most powerful of all the pieces. Do I make myself clear?”

  Marshawn nodded.

  “Get your rifle and take one of the motor boats. Get to the landward dock before your sister does and see her safely on her way. If any of your brothers or sisters gets in the way, shoot them! You have my blessing and I will see that twenty million dollars is added to your account.”

  Marshawn nodded, hiding the surprise at the amount of favor just shown to him. He was curious about something, “Which of the pieces are you, Father?”

  “I’m none of them. I’m the master that plays all of them. Now go and earn your money!”

  Marshawn hurried off and Iya got up and headed back to the house and the welcoming committee that had formed.

  His sons, Iya thought to himself in disgust. They had his heartless cruelty, but none of his cunning.

  One son stepped forward, “You should not have let her go! They will capture her and get the secrets of the treasure from her! It was foolish to let her out of your hand!”

  Iya simply nodded and started to walk past him, but in a quick move he caught his son with a hand to the throat and another to the back of the head and twisted sharply.

  The loud snap of his son’s neck had the others backing up a step and Iya let his full contempt for them show. “Until one of you conniving jackals mans up enough to kill me, I rule! What I say goes! You do not question my motives or actions!”

  He let the body of his son fall to the ground and continued on toward the house.

  Rocco stood there and Iya came to a stop. “You agree with my actions?”

  Rocco was no fool and had known better than to stand with the others in direct confrontation with their father. “He got what he deserved for questioning your leadership, father,” he glibly responded.

  Without warning, Iya viciously backhanded Rocco so hard that he broke his nose and knocked him to the ground.

  “And now, so have you!” Iya gritted out.

  Rocco, holding a hand to his nose, looked up at his father, profoundly puzzled.

  “The next time you so much as touch your sister is the day you die, Rocco! Whether I’m alive or not, I will see that it happens, doubt me not on this matter!”

  Iya turned from him and strode into the front entryway of the house, his back straight and head proudly held high. He was still the lord of his patch of the jungle.