Chapter 5 Against All Odds

A coded message was transmitted to certain chosen individuals across the globe.

Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, a high-ranked general inside a war submarine received a low-frequency ping.

A hard-boiled woman sitting in the back of a traveling truck in the Sahara desert found a message on her satellite phone.

An elite commander leading a guerrilla team in the ganglands of Venezuela received a communication on his radio.

A world leader delivering a speech to millions of followers read an urgent message on his phone.

A beautiful woman on a private jet jumped for joy when her manager whispered the news to her.

The exceptional individuals who received the message either mouthed or thought the same words. "Emperor Caesar is back!"

***

Victor decided to walk back home. He wasn't expecting Carol's return anytime soon. She was sensitive about her family and would go to great lengths to defend them. Moreover, she never realized that they wanted to exploit her.

Victor had tolerated their abuse in the past, considering her emotions. Tonight was the first time he had misbehaved with them. Carol may not let that slide. Moreover, his in-laws were likely to have filled her head with poison about him.

On reaching his street, Victor stood on the pavement and furrowed his brows. An unconventional scene presented itself before him.

A dozen expensive cars were parked on the lawn. About fifty guards in suits had formed a boulevard from the road to his doorway. They hung their heads in reverence as he approached.

Victor looked across the street. It was a miracle that his neighbors had not noticed the crowd. Perhaps they were out for the night? He sighed and walked into his house. Inside, more guards stood in attention and greeted him respectfully.

An aristocratic man around forty relaxed on the couch and watched the hearth crackling. He was wearing a Napoli suit with Chopard, gold-rimmed glasses. His aura was as if the man was acquainted with ordering people around. However, he jumped to his feet when Victor entered the living room.

"Who are you?" Victor asked the stranger.

The man rushed forward and took a knee before him, his eyes downcast. The guards also followed suit. "My name is Clive Baron, sir. I am your humble servant and head butler moving forward."

Victor raised an eyebrow. Had the New World Order (NWO) already sent someone to serve him? He disconnected the call barely fifteen minutes back. But such promptness and readiness were not surprising, considering the unlimited resources this powerful organization commanded.

Victor eyed the man and sized him up. Clive Baron? This magnate often appeared on the local news, hailed as the lord of Springfield. Clive was the wealthiest billionaire in the city and owned almost half the land and resources. He ranked among the top two hundred billionaires in the country. Compared to him, James Colbert was a peasant.

"What is your rank in the NWO?"

Clive hesitated. The man, the myth, Caesar, was right before him. Clive's rank was too low to even speak to the legendary man. Yet, he had already taken his vow and had to surrender to Caesar's will. "I am a 3-star, sir."

Victor cast a cold, demeaning glance at him. A 3-star? He should be greeted by no lower than a 5-star. However, at such short notice, it was acceptable. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Victor took a seat while Clive stood by him like a butler. "We are lucky the neighbors haven't noticed," he told the billionaire. "I want the cars and the guards gone. Right away."

"Yes, sir!" Clive snapped his fingers and barked out the orders. Immediately, the guards bowed and left the house. Cars screeched out of the driveway and disappeared into the city.

When it was peaceful again, Clive turned to Victor and knelt again. "Sir, if I may, my rank is indeed too low to serve you. However, I was ordered to break protocol because of your unexpected return. Regardless, I feel privileged to have this opportunity to serve you. Otherwise, a lowly personality like me could never meet a man of your stature. I am prepared to take any punishment for my insolence."

Victor nodded with poise. "No punishment is necessary. I accept your fealty. You can get up."

Clive exhaled in relief and got to his feet. "What are my orders, sir?"

"I need six hundred thousand dollars immediately."

The billionaire hesitated. Six hundred thousand was nothing. It was spare change. Why was the mighty Caesar asking for such a small amount?

Regardless, Clive produced an international debit card lined with gold. "There are two billion dollars in this account, sir."

Victor took the card and said, "Contact the best cardiac surgeon in the country who can arrive at Springfield Global Hospital early in the morning. My grandfather needs urgent treatment. Rest of the orders, I will communicate through messages."

The billionaire bowed speechlessly and left.

***

Carol returned home late at night. She wore a sleeveless white shirt and a black high-waist maxi skirt. She looked red around the cheeks and was carrying a brown leather bag.

"Where have you been?" Victor asked. "Are you drunk?"

"Just a little bit of wine, dear," she answered. A pained smile formed on her lips. She unzipped the leather bag and handed it to her husband. There were thick bundles of currency inside.

"What is this?"

"Six hundred thousand," his wife said, her eyes downcast. "Now we can treat grandpa."

Victor let the situation sink in for a moment. Then he spoke up. "You never wear such dark lipstick. Neither have I seen you dress so slutty before. Tell me the truth. Where were you tonight? What have you done?"