Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6) by Andre Gonzalez (books on motivation .txt) 📕

“Until then, be proud of what we have accomplished. I look forward to returning to the normal day-to-day we were once accustomed to. Good night, and may you each have the brightest future imaginable.”

Martin nodded to the camera and stepped away once he received the okay that the feed had been cut. Those on the jet offered one final round of applause before someone turned on the radio, blaring “We Are the Champions” to kick off the not-so-subtle celebration.

Martin went to the bar where a drink had already been poured for him, and he watched his team commemorate the grandest achievement of their lives. Never could he recall seeing so much joy in one room. He saw Alina and Arielle across the way, knowing the bright futures ahead for both.

They all had one, Martin included, and the thought brought a smile to his lips as his thirty seconds of alone time were up. He’d be in and out of different conversations until they landed in Denver in the wee hours of the morning.

Chapter 31

Two days later Martin sat in his office, enjoying the lack of constant commotion as he stared at his computer screen, a never-ending list of emails that he attempted to sort through. They had piled up over the weeks he was missing from the public, resulting in the earlier emails to contain cries for his appearance, some worried, some enraged, while the later ones were nothing but congratulatory messages.

He had been hard at work since they arrived back to Denver, first fielding a heated call from the rest of the commanders. His choice to utilize a foreign member to freeze time was a major violation to their Bylaws, punishable by removal from the commandership, but Commander Blair surprisingly served as the voice of reason, citing the time of peace that now graced North America for the first time in the Road Runners’ existence. They let him off the hook, choosing to focus on what their futures held instead of falling into a political fight with no obvious end result.

After the phone call, Martin headed for the conference room next door, where a mortician and orthopedic surgeon had set up shop for the separation of Chris’s body. It had been a gruesome process to watch, spanning over six hours as they broke the body into thirteen different parts. He watched as the body parts, intentionally severed mid-limb, were packed into different six-cubic-feet steel safes, the locks promptly damaged as soon as they were sealed shut, ensuring no one could ever crack them open.

Multiple crews waited on standby, each ready to take a box to a different part of the continent. Some were dropping them in the oceans, others to be buried in secret islands in the Caribbean, but one in particular was to remain in the Denver office, and that’s what Martin waited for behind his desk today, after the conference room had been cleared out and restored to its regular function.

The knock came on the door, Alina entering with the solid black safe in her embrace. “Good morning, Commander, I take it you heard the body has now been successfully distributed to all of our target locations?”

“Sure did—it’s still taking time to feel real, you know?”

“Absolutely. I never realized how conditioned I was to constantly be waiting for bad news to break. Now, it kind of feels like vacation.”

Martin chuckled. “Wait until your actual vacation. You all packed for that?”

“Commander, I packed the night we arrived home from Winnipeg. Two days away from Hawaii—I can already taste that first Mai Tai on the beach.”

“Good for you. Is that what I think it is?” he asked, nodding to the box.

“Yes—here is the head of Chris Speidel, forever locked in this safe, and to stay within the office of the commander for as long as we exist.”

She stepped forward and placed it on the front of his desk. Martin stared at it, both amused and disturbed by the thought of what lay inside. A human head, he thought. That’s some mafia shit.

“Honestly, Commander, I don’t think anyone would care if you held on to this, even beyond your term. You’ve earned it, and it’s very much yours.”

Martin raised his hand. “This is official property of the Road Runners. Maybe I’ll take other mementos when my term comes to an end, but this needs to stay right here where it belongs, to forever serve as a reminder of what we had to go through.”

Alina nodded. “Are you about ready to head out?”

“Absolutely.” Martin grabbed a light jacket and pulled it on. He had wanted to visit the gravesites of Izzy and Sonya, buried next to each other at the cemetery in Larkwood, as Martin had instructed. Alina volunteered to drive, knowing it would be an emotional event for Martin.

They climbed the steps to the marketing office above, passing through and stepping outside to a world that smothered them with unlimited freedom. In a matter of two days, nearly all the Revolution had gone under the radar. Homes of known Revolters were checked, and no one ever answered. A good amount were also in local prisons thanks to their public attacks in the days leading up to Chris’s death. Martin had expected as much, just not so soon. He still had security guards whenever he stepped outside, only they didn’t cling to his every move. For this trip, they would follow behind in a vehicle of their own, and would remain about fifty yards back once at the cemetery.

Martin got into the passenger seat of Alina’s BMW, and sunk back as they pulled onto the road, weaving through the familiar traffic of downtown Denver. Alina had punched their destination into the GPS that predicted the trip would take fifteen minutes.

They rode in silence until reaching the freeway, Martin gazing out the window. When they had passed the Sixteenth Street Mall, he imagined the ghosts of the life he once had,