89: Afterwards

“Priscilla, why don’t you and Harry join us?” Michaelson said as the supporters started toward their cars. The TV crew had also begun putting away their equipment. Priscilla Parker gave the captain a surprised look. “Leave the camera behind, but you might as well be in on the rest of this.”

“Are we free to report on any of this, Chief?” Priscilla asked.

“With discretion and I’ll be speaking with Chris later about it,” Dave said, referring to Christopher Norton, the TV station’s editor-in-chief. “Is that all right with you, Loren?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “Fine by me. I’m always happy to cooperate with the Fourth Estate.”

“Yeah, right,” they heard Daeron mutter. Glorfindel gave him a mock glower, which Daeron returned with a grin, then said, “Well, let’s not stand out here in the middle of the street. Come in then.”

“Roy, go find out how the bomb squad is doing and then report back,” Loren ordered and Elrohir nodded and set off. Prince Legolas looked to follow him.

“Prince, stick around,” Michaelson ordered. “I want to speak with you.”

The elven prince raised a delicate eyebrow at the Mortal’s tone, but fell in with the others who went back inside the house. The Mortals shed coats, while the Elves, for the most part, merely stomped the snow off their shoes and, in a couple of cases, slippers. Most of them disappeared upstairs or into the kitchen while Loren led the Mortals, along with Finrod, Prince Legolas, Daeron and Valandur, into the library. Daeron automatically went to stoke up the fire and the three Mortals huddled nearby, enjoying the warmth.

“Okay, Dave,” Glorfindel said. “What do you want to talk to us about?”

Michaelson turned his attention away from the fire to give Glorfindel a pensive look. “I would have come over regardless. I heard about the attack on the Three Amigos, as I think you call them. Are they okay?”

“They’re well enough,” Glorfindel answered with a diffident shrug. “Conan took them and Nell along with Randall and Manuela to Chandalar to play in the ice maze early this morning before we were besieged. They needed some time away from here. They’ll be back later.”

Michaelson nodded. “Good. I’ve spoken with Campus Security. They’re going to keep a closer eye on things at the college. Any chance of the ellyn being able to identify their attackers?”

“I have no idea as we didn’t ask,” Glorfindel replied. “Some friends of theirs stopped by yesterday to make sure they were okay, but otherwise….”

“Well, names would help and Campus Security is tracking down leads themselves. I will not have these disturbances in my town. I’ll be speaking with Tom Peterson about this morning’s little party.”

“You seriously think he was behind all this?” Daeron asked.

“I doubt it, but I think it’s a case of ‘Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?’, if you catch my drift.”

Both Glorfindel and Daeron raised eyebrows at that, but before either could comment or explain the reference to the other Elves, the door opened and Elladan and Elrohir stepped inside.

“Your men are removing the explosives,” Elladan said to Michaelson before anyone could speak, “though I don’t think they’ve had much experience with dealing with bomb threats before this. I thought a couple of them were going to faint when they saw all that C4.”

“C4?! Where in God’s name did anyone get hold of C4?” Michaelson exclaimed. “I was expecting some homemade variety with ingredients taken from some damn survivalist website.”

“I know,” Elladan said, looking pensive. “It’s not as if you can run down to the Gold Nugget Emporium and pick some up in aisle three along with the duct tape they used to string it along the wall. And there’s enough of it that it might have taken half the block with it.”

Michaelson began cursing fluently and more than one set of eyebrows rose at the words.

“Is that a direct quote, Chief?” Priscilla asked and when Michaelson glared at her, she merely smirked. Realizing what she was doing, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Sorry,” he said in apology. “I usually don’t lose control like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dave,” Glorfindel said airily. “We’ve all heard worse from better… um… that didn’t come out quite the way I had planned.”

Michaelson grinned, his humor restored. “Thanks. I know what you meant. Okay, did any of you recognize any of the protesters? Anyone known to be a Peterson follower?”

“Sorry, Dave,” Daeron said, “as far as I know, none of us recognized them, at least not to name them.” The other Elves all nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure we’ve seen them around town,” Glorfindel said. “You might have better luck asking those who came to support us, especially Charles, Josiah and Daniel. They would know who’s who if anyone does.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Michaelson said, then he turned to Prince Legolas, eyeing the knives at his waist and the bow still strung over his shoulder. “Do you have a permit to carry those?” he asked with a lift of an eyebrow.

Legolas did not answer immediately, merely staring at the Man who was his boss at the police station. Then, more swiftly than Mortal eye could see, he pulled out one of the knives and sent it sailing so it embedded itself into one of the legs of the reading desk on the other side of the room. Even as the knife left his hand, he was whipping the bow around and an arrow swiftly followed the knife, landing just below it.

“Whoa!” Harry exclaimed as both he and Priscilla scrambled away to practically cower against the door while Michaelson stood his ground, though the Elves suspected it was only by sheer will power. The Elves themselves barely blinked at the demonstration.

“I’d give that an eight, would you?” Glorfindel asked Daeron, who merely shook his head, smiling faintly at the levity. Legolas, ignoring them, gave Michaelson an imperious look.

“That is all the permit I need,” he said quietly.

“I see,” was all Michaelson said, staring at the knife and the arrow. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “Okay, I’d better go. Priscilla, I have no objections to you reporting on this incident, but let’s use some discretion. While the citizens of Wiseman should be told what is happening in their own town, we don’t need the rest of the world in on it. Let’s keep our dirty little secrets in-house, all right?”

“Hey! I took a shower this morning,” Glorfindel said with mock anger.

Michaelson grinned along with everyone else. “I’m sure you did. Oh, by the way, we’re ready to make an arrest for your mugging, Loren. As soon as we haul the perps in, I’ll call you and you can come down and see if you can identify them.”

Glorfindel nodded. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll be there. Come on. I’ll walk you all out.”

“Do we get a statement from you, Loren?” Priscilla asked as they made their way to the foyer with all the Elves following.

“Sorry, Priscilla. Other than the fact that we are thankful for the good people of Wiseman who came out in support of us and for the Wiseman Police for responding quickly to the crisis, we have nothing more to say. And Dave, I sincerely hope you find who is behind this before we do, because we Elves do not take prisoners, now or ever.”

“Is that a threat, Loren?” Michaelson asked as he shrugged on his coat.

“You should know me well enough by now to know that I never make threats, Dave, only promises.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Michaelson said. “Prince, I’ll see you on Monday.”

Legolas gave him a gracious nod but did not speak. Michaelson rolled his eyes while Glorfindel and Daeron grinned as the three Mortals made their farewells and soon the Elves were left to themselves.

Glorfindel turned away from closing the door, staring pensively at Finrod and Valandur. “You two were suspiciously quiet in all this.”

Valandur shrugged. “I must speak with Amroth. I wish to learn more about this C4 and why someone like David Michaelson would turn white at the thought of it.”

Glorfindel nodded. “And you, Finrod? I can tell you are livid. You have that Wrath-of-Mandos look in your eyes.”

“We have been attacked,” Finrod said.

“Not exactly and the attempt was foiled thanks to Darren’s quick thinking, realizing that the protesters were a possible decoy,” Glorfindel said reasonably.

“Innocents could have been killed,” Finrod insisted.

“But they weren’t,” Glorfindel said. “Finrod, what has really gotten you so upset?”

For a moment Finrod just stood there glaring at Glorfindel. “You are not?” he finally asked.

“Oh, I’m upset all right,” Glorfindel retorted, “but being upset solves nothing, does it? I prefer to be more proactive. I’ve given Michaelson fair warning to find the ones responsible before I go after them. Peterson may not have had anything to do with this, but someone went to an awful lot of trouble to organize this little party and I want to know who.”

“That would be my job,” Valandur said.

Glorfindel nodded in acquiescence. “In the meantime, let’s deal with your anger, gwador,” he said, addressing Finrod.

The erstwhile king of Nargothrond gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Who is using these children?”

“What do you mean?” Daeron asked, giving him a puzzled look.

“I mean, who is using the Mortals in this fashion? The protesters… do you truly believe they all knew about the explosives? Could they be so evil in their hearts?”

Now Glorfindel looked pensive. “I don’t know, Finrod. I would hope not, but… if what you say is true then I have to wonder who the real enemy is. Tom Peterson, pain in the butt that he may be, may actually be a dupe, an unknowing innocent with someone fueling his prejudices and taking advantage of them.”

“He’s not that innocent, Loren,” Elladan protested. “He honestly believes in what he is saying.”

“Perhaps, but to sanction wholesale slaughter of people who never did him any personal harm? No, I don’t see it. I think Michaelson is on the right track. This is definitely a case of someone taking what might have been an off-the-cuff remark on Peterson’s part as gospel and acting accordingly.”

“So those protesters were dupes, is that what you are saying?” Elrohir asked.

Glorfindel shrugged. “It’s certainly a possibility, but you know as well as I that Mortals are quite willing to allow themselves to be duped when it suits their own purposes. We’ve seen evidence of that too many times to count. Those protesters honestly believed in what they were protesting about, but I hope that they would be as appalled as anyone to learn that they were being used as a decoy while others were busy planting the bombs. It would not surprise me if those planting the bombs never planned to warn the protesters away in time. They would be seen as expendable to the cause.”

“Yes, I’m afraid you may be right about that,” Finrod said. “I had come to the same conclusion well before this. Why do you think I am so angry? It is well that those five Men are in police custody, for I would have shown them no mercy had they fallen into my hands.”

Glorfindel gave him a mirthless grin. “Maybe we should convince Dave to give you five minutes alone with them if he doesn’t get any information out of them otherwise.”

“Maybe we should,” Finrod shot back, his expression completely feral and deadly.

Glorfindel responded with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, I think we need to take a deep breath and a step back, as Ron likes to say, and get some perspective here. First of all, I’m not about to let you loose on any Mortal however richly they may deserve it…”

“Spoilsport,” Finrod whispered, casting Glorfindel a mock glare.

“Okay, Finrod, keep it up and I’ll make you run around the whole of the Brooks Mountain Range until you get it all out of your system,” Glorfindel retorted, “and don’t think I can’t.”

Valandur chuckled. “That would be fun to watch. He’s right, Finrod. You’re taking this far too personally. I know it’s a shock but we have bigger fish to fry, as I think the saying goes. Let’s concentrate on keeping ourselves safe and let the Mortals deal with things. They are more than capable.”

Finrod took a deep breath and let it out slowly and nodded, but otherwise refused to speak.

“We’ll keep the patrols going, then,” Glorfindel said. “Dan, Roy, I’m leaving you two in charge of that. Organize the patrols as you see fit.”

“You got it, Captain,” Elladan said. “Roy, I think we need to install additional security lights and motion detection cameras, especially all along the wall.”

“Tall order but I think it’s doable,” Elrohir said. “Why don’t we take a look? Care to give us a hand, Liam?” Legolas nodded and he and the Twins excused themselves, leaving the others still standing in the foyer.

“I would like to go see Amroth,” Valandur said. “We need to talk.”

“I can drive you over,” Daeron offered. “I was going to go to the store before all this came down.”

“I would appreciate it, thank you,” Valandur said.

“I don’t like the idea of you shopping alone, Darren,” Glorfindel said.

“I’ll take Conan or Barry with me.”

At Glorfindel’s nod, Daeron and Valandur excused themselves and now it was just Glorfindel and Finrod. Glorfindel stared at his gwador with some concern. “Are you all right, hanno?” he asked.

“I am not sure,” Finrod said after a moment’s hesitation. “Too much is happening all at once.”

Glorfindel snorted. “Welcome to my world. Look, let’s just take it one step at a time, okay? In spite of what others may or may not have planned, we are still safe and Edhellond is unharmed. Let’s just take joy in that and leave the rest in Eru’s capable hands, shall we?”

Finrod quirked an eyebrow and he had a slight smile on his lips. “I will take it under advisement.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “I remember your atar saying that in that very tone when someone offered him a suggestion that he didn’t like and we all knew that it was just his polite way of saying ‘No way, José’ or even more to the point, ‘Over my dead body’.”

Finrod laughed and some of the tension and anger he had been feeling melted away. “Yes, that is exactly what he meant, though some fools actually took his words at face value.” He shook his head. “Some of my own subjects did the same. I think Mortals are not the only ones who are capable of self-delusion.”

“Amen to that.”

He was about to say more when the front door opened and Laurendil and Manwen came inside along with the Three Amigos and Nielluin. Glorfindel gave them a bright smile.

“Have fun?”

Laurendil ignored the question, asking one of his own. “What are the police and fire department doing here and why are there Elves in winter camouflage and carrying weapons? Are we at war already?”

Glorfindel and Finrod exchanged glances and then Glorfindel said, “Why don’t we all go into the library and we’ll tell you about all the excitement you missed.”

“Yes, why don’t we all do that,” Laurendil said and then they were all trooping down the hall to the library with Glorfindel and Finrod bringing up the rear.

****

Later, as they were in the process of putting dinner on the table, Lindorillë came into the kitchen. “We are in the news,” she announced. “Come see.”

At once, everyone followed her into what was called the media room where a widescreen TV hung in the corner. Comfortable chairs and sofas were scattered around the room facing the screen. Erestor was already there along with a few others who were not helping with dinner that night. He looked up as they all came in.

“As soon as they go to commercial, I’ll put it on replay so you can see the entire report,” he said and Glorfindel nodded.

They did not have to wait long and soon they were watching the news report from the beginning with the anchorman, Dean Chambers, speaking: “There was a disturbance at Edhellond earlier this morning when protesters showed up. Our roving reporter, Priscilla Parker, has more on the story. Priscilla?”

The image changed to show Ms Parker standing before the gates of Edhellond. “Yes, Dean. As you can see, all is quiet in Elfland…”

“Oh good grief,” Glorfindel muttered in disgust.

“… but that wasn’t the case earlier.”

Now the scene shifted and they saw the protesters marching and then the supporters arriving. Priscilla was speaking in a voice over. “The protesters would not let anyone pass the gates, even going so far as to throw iron nails across the entrance, presumably to keep the Elves inside, quite forgetting that the gates themselves are made of iron. Then supporters, led by the Reverend Charles Waverly of St. Mary’s, Pastor Josiah Makepeace of New Jerusalem and Rabbi David Cohen of Temple Beth El, showed up. That is when things got really interesting.”

The picture showed Glorfindel leading the Elves with their unconscious prisoners and then Prince Legolas herding the other two. Priscilla then proceeded to explain about the C4 that had been found and the image now showed police in flak jackets swarming the place. Finally, the picture returned to Priscilla standing before the gates of Edhellond and the camera zoomed back to reveal Dean Chambers.

“A most disturbing report, Priscilla,” he said.

“Yes, it is Dean, but luckily no one was hurt, for which we can all be thankful.”

“This time,” Dean said in all seriousness, “but what about the next time?”

“That is certainly the question,” Priscilla replied.

Then Chambers turned to face the camera. “Some of the protesters were identified as being members of Mayoral candidate Thomas Peterson’s campaign. When we attempted to speak with Mr. Peterson, he refused to give us an interview, speaking through his campaign manager, Joshua Stillman.”

They saw a tape of the interview with Stillman who said, “Mr. Peterson is as appalled as the rest of us that anyone would do such a reprehensible thing in this country. We hope the police will find who is behind this act and quickly before people get hurt.”

“Turn it off,” Glorfindel ordered. “We’ve seen enough.”

Erestor complied and for a moment no one moved or spoke until Finrod stirred. “Do you believe him?”

“Who, Stillman?” Glorfindel enquired, then shrugged when Finrod nodded. “I’m sure he believes it, but whether it’s true or not is not for any of us to say. Come on, dinner’s ready. Let’s not waste it.”

With that, he turned to leave the room and the others followed. By mutual consent, they did not speak of what had happened earlier except that Elladan assured them that he and Elrohir had ordered an upgrade on the estate’s security measures and that it would be installed before the end of the coming week. After that, they studiously concentrated on discussing the upcoming auction of Jacob’s store and the hopes that they would be able to purchase it through a blind.

“Gregory Sanderson is on his way up,” Glorfindel told them. “He will have no contact with any of us, not even by phone or email. I will have Alex relay messages between us. Our enemies will hopefully not think it odd for Alex and Sanderson to speak to one another, given that Alex once worked for the Agency and Sanderson is still known to be part of it. They may assume that the two are discussing Farrell’s fate. At the same time, they are so used to seeing Alex interact with us, that they will probably not make any other assumptions about what else he’s doing.”

“A wise precaution,” Finrod said from where he sat opposite Glorfindel. “Hopefully, the ruse will work.”

“Yet, how?” Edrahil asked. “If the opposition knows who Mr. Sanderson is, won’t they be wondering what he’s doing here attempting to buy a store?”

“We thought of that,” Daeron answered before Glorfindel could speak. “Gregory will tell anyone who bothers to ask that he has decided to retire and wishes to do so in Wiseman, having ‘fallen in love with the town’.” He made quoting gestures with his hands and grinned.

“Plausible enough, I suppose,” Barahir said. “So, how do we play this?”

“I will be at the auction, ostensibly to bid, for I have made sure that Jacob knows our intent,” Glorfindel replied. “I have no doubt that he has spoken with others who do not like us and has asked them to make sure we don’t win the bidding. At some point along the way, I’ll drop out of the bidding, but before whoever is Jacob’s plant can close the deal, that’s when Sanderson will step in and raise the ante. I’ve given him carte blanch. He’ll go as high as necessary, but I doubt he’ll have to go too high. No one has that kind of money, not around here.”

“It still may not work, but we can but try,” Finrod said. “It will be interesting to see how it all falls out.”

“Yes, it will,” Glorfindel said quietly, not exactly looking at any one, concentrating on his dinner.

There was a brief moment of silence and then Nielluin asked if it would be all right for her and the Three Amigos to go ice skating after dinner and Finrod gave them his permission. “I think I will accompany you.”

“Why don’t we all go?” Daeron suggested. “Or at least a fair number of us, just to show the rest of the town that we will not hide behind locked doors?”

“Good idea,” Glorfindel said, “though we should leave a few people here to mind the store.”

“That will not be a problem,” Erestor said. “Some of us have already made plans to watch a couple of movies tonight. We have a list. Barahir and Alphwen have been kind enough to recommend some films that will help us understand Mortals better.”

Glorfindel gave Barahir a discerning look and the ellon shrugged. “Yes, well, they’re all pretty much standard classics from a variety of genres. I figured having movie night might help people get better acquainted with some of the cultural references that we all take for granted but probably sound like a foreign language to those not in the know.”

“You planning to watch along with them in case they have questions?” Glorfindel asked.

“Sure. I don’t mind.”

“Then by all means enjoy and those who would rather go ice skating are more than welcome to join us instead.”

With that decided, they quickly finished up dinner, the skaters opting to have dessert later when they returned while those staying behind for the movies agreed to clean up so the skaters could get on their way. Soon, the mansion was emptying out, or so it would seem, but more than one set of eyes kept watch on the estate.

Not all the eyes were friendly.

****

Note: Michaelson alludes to the supposed words of King Henry II of England which led to the assassination of Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, on 29 December 1170.