How About Seven? ✔

51. Flight of the Silverbird

3 DAYS LATER

"Is he better?"

"The doctor says he's still severely underweight and it'll take another two days before they can discharge him."

"But can he talk?"

"I guess, but - "

"Then that's good enough for us. Blackcroft's future can wait no longer."

Three men in black suits pushed their way past the protesting nurse and entered the ward. For over a month now they had been acting as interim dons, a rare occasion where the leaders of the three major triads came together. Of course, each worked with the other purely for their own gain, but eventually after endless bickering and discussions there had been only one conclusion.

Stalemate.

Without the will, neither of them could gain the edge that made them don. But now, that edge was here.

There was a boy, about sixteen years of age, lying in the hospital bed. Eric Blackcroft, son of Gideon Blackcroft (deceased) and brother to Hayley Blackcroft (disowned). Despite the heavy bruises around his face, chest and legs, his eyes were sharp and bright.

"You have the will?" the first man asked.

Didn't even bother pretending pleasantries, Eric thought. No 'are you okay?' or 'good job on getting the will back'. Just straight business. But Eric could understand that. He too, was a man of business.

From underneath the blankets, he produced a tightly rolled parchment sealed in a vacuumed plastic bag. He passed it to the man.

The man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why isn't it in the case?"

"Because that's the first place Black and Tan would check. I had to store it somewhere else." Eric shifted, and smiled charmingly at the nurse who was adjusting his glucose drip. She blushed. "You can check it for authencity. The seal is unbroken."

The man took the plastic bag and peered at it. There was a seal on the parchment and it was, indeed, unbroken. He passed it to the second man, who brought it close to his eyes for inspection - and immediately wrinkled his nose.

"The hell? It smells like shit and piss! Where did you hide this?"

Eric thought about those long, long weeks in the dungeon, where Black and Tan had put him through every method of torture that they could devise. Where the only toilet he had was the piss bucket in the corner of the dungeon, that got emptied whenever Black and Tan felt like it, which was not often.

He thought about the many times he had been fed nothing, and he had been forced to eat whatever that came out from his own body.

Eric reached forward and took a big spoonful of the rich, indulgent strawberry cake that he had specially requested for lunch. "You don't want to know," he said, before biting down with relish.

"Well?" said the third man impatiently. "Open it, Byron!"

"It should be done by the Blackcroft lawyer. Otherwise it won't be deemed legitimate."