Clarence Delaney

Clarence Delaney

"Internal research reports greater numbers both in those openly hiding and hiding in the open,"

excerpt from Dossier: Limitations and leadership of the World Worshippers in Newtopia

Across the hall now he heard his ex-wife and ex-sister-in-law laughing  in short high bursts while because we can’t echoed in his head.

Days earlier Norman Oakland put a cigarette in his mouth while Clarence asked “Why not?” and removed the cigarette from Norman’s mouth then put it into his own.  He sat down grinning to himself but also angry at Norman’s mystery.

“Well let me guess that you don’t think Baxton was killed by his security guard.”

“No.” Clarence said.  “He definitely wasn’t.”

“We figured as much.  There’s so many ties to fast food chains, money laundering, and what was the name of that guy?”

“The French guy, they called him.”  It was like an inside joke Clarence hadn’t told anyone. “How do you know?”

“We have the same source you did. The same source you refused to give up to friendly Jenny, the same source you let go.”

There’s no way, Clarence thought feverishly.  There was no way they knew he had direct contact with an intern in Spain.

“Want to know more?  Because Seamus Grant does too. But that poor fool almost started investigating you over in Spain.”

“Is that why he was shot in Crete when he was on trial?”

“No that poor fool was capped for a reason, Clarence, but it wasn’t to stop him from chasing after you.  And really we don’t know.  But he knew someone too a source we’re told close to yours.  Her name is Nancy Hope Rodriguez-Sabotcka, does that ring a bell?”

“No,” Clarence sighed a weak laugh, “I would remember a name like that, Hope? Her name is Hope?”

“Yea, like Faith or Chance.”

“I don’t know anyone named Chance.” Clarence complained.

“Look, it doesn’t matter we need Hope not Chance.  That’s why I don’t want to put anything to chance so you’ll be running the show in Sam’s Town.  The missing person by the way is your source so you better find him. And communicate to him that the safety and location of Hope is our most dire concern.

Clarence reflected on the conversation now as the choking laughter down the hall brought him back to his desk.  The smell of bacon from their BLTs was all but completely gone from the air.  Why do I believe Norman? Why did I decide to kill the centipede?  The brown stain of the smashed insect was likely still smeared front and center on his bathroom wall.  What his sudden rashness when he killed the ‘pede the same he exhibited when he agreed to Norman’s request to lead the investigation in Sam’s Town.  Or was it a command?

Mostly calm, directed movements paced his reading and turned pages of research on the World Worshippers.—excerpt from Dossier: Limitations and leadership of the World Worshippers in Newtopia.

“Internal research reports greater numbers both in those openly hiding and hiding in the open.  The Valen is still believed to be their primary place of worship and litigation.  It is located somewhere under the Pan-Atlantic.  Their rank and file include various political members and public servents for names please see Appendix ii…”

The dossier was thick but Clarence eagerly skipped to the end and found Apendix ii.  The first had a list of many he didn’t recognize yet some he did: Marco Malcome who was the National Deligate for Northern Europe, Grace Bradley who was in the room at the other end of the hall.  Grace?!  The list seemed to be going by most influential to least and Grace’s name was so high up.  For all he knew she was the head of the Worshippers.  She was three names higher than Bellman Newman.  Newman was a multi-million dollar dairy player.  He sold ice-cream and chocolate milk but ran for political office nearly every chance he got.  People said he was, well, too good.

Clarence took a deep breath and kept going down the list.  The name in red had been tempting him the whole time even though he sensed who it would be.  But when he looked to see Senator Baxton’s name he instead saw Apex Oblivion’s.  He closed the large manila folder as if to hide from the bleeding text.  Oblivion was once a young, fiery mayor of one of Newtopia’s largest cities.  He disappeared some years ago when the Catholics arrived but never resurfaced after they left in a large part in the ‘90’s.  Clarence thought him dead.  But now, his name on this list and so salient, so red? 

What does it mean to be a worshipper?  Clarence flipped the large dossier over and sped through pages and chapters.  He remembered seeing that chapter somewhere in the middle.  He hungered for that now more than he did that bacon earlier.  What does it mean to be a worshipper? And more importantly what does it mean for Apex Oblivion to be one.    That was a chapter he would have to write.

Words like ‘militant’ and ‘increasing’ and ‘wedlock’ and ‘brainwash’ jumped out at him.  He stopped at a picture of a tall man with olive skin and a beard.  The cloak he wore was a thick grey-green cotton gown and covered most of his face.  ‘Merol Higgin at closing ritual, initiation,’ the caption read.  The man looked away from the camera but the profile of his body suggested he weighed over 200 pounds.  The written biography confirmed this and said he was of a low level, possibly a recent initiate.  Aggressive but slow witted.  Threat level: low.  He flipped to Oblivion’s page that showed only an old picture of him as a mayor.  The biography said he was a military and spiritual leader, ‘rank unknown’.  Threat level: moderate to high.