4 Rainy Days and Monday by Robert Michael

it.”
    Andronicus did not like the idea of so many cooks in the proverbial kitchen. He would ensure the security was tight. He had already taken measures before he arrived.
    “How did they get you to agree to help us, Doctor?” He was suspicious. Not only of the efficacy of this plan but of his involvement. Why was he here? A plan was already in place. Why was he truly involved?
    The doctor bit his lip and looked absently over Andronicus’ shoulder. He cupped his mouth with a shaking hand and pinched his nose with a sigh.
    “I agreed to save the life of my family. I agreed so Veronica could stay close to me.”
    Andronicus turned and watched Veronica. Her face was a mask of concern, but she smiled at another scientist and punched him on the arm amicably.
    “She isn’t your niece, is she?” he observed.
    “No.” The doctor squirmed in his chair, his eyes swimming in pools of unshed tears.
    “I understand your situation. Perhaps we can be of mutual benefit to one another.”
    Spreckles wrinkled his nose in distaste.
    “How?” He asked, dubious.
    Andronicus allowed a smile creep across his face. A genuine one. He had an ace up his sleeve. He believed he could use this program to sink their enemies, to expose them, to embarrass them, and to aim the ill will of the world against them.
    “What do you need to make this happen?”
    “Besides time and money?”
    He nodded.
    “We lack only one key component of technology. We want to concentrate on certain impulses and behaviors so the delivery system will target the proper subjects at an appropriate time. We have in place the DNA markers that control the human life support centers: the heart, brain, lungs, and digestion. What we need is a way for the technological implants to effectively read their minds. We need a trigger.”
    Andronicus thought for a moment. He wondered how much of this his colleagues had already known before sending him on this assignment. What he had thought would be a suicide mission had turned out to be a tour of the end of humanity. A line from Shakespeare came to him suddenly. Wanton boys and flies to gods . Something like that. He was not sure if he was being offered the keys to his dreams or the dagger to commit his own seppuku .
    Was he witnessing the Tower of Babel, or the pillars of salt?
    “I may have just what you need, doctor,” he said.

Chapter Ten
    Dance with a Devil
    B eatrice could taste the salt of him on her tongue. Her fingers curled the hairs of his chest absently. Her head rested on his bare shoulder. His breathing was steady and his eyes were closed. He was awake still but relaxed.
    Dappled sunlight filtered through the gauze draperies. The setting sun was golden against his bronzed skin. Beatrice allowed her eyelids to flutter against his skin.
    “Are you sure your brother will fail at this?” she asked, her breath thick with the pleasure he had shown her.
    He frowned.
    “Shhh. I am relaxing,” he whispered sharply.
    She sighed against him.
    She did not like being treated like a young girl.
    She gave Antiochus a wide berth because he was powerful and she could manipulate him through his ego. Men were so predictable.
    Even though Antiochus was virile and her best partner among the dozens with which she had shared her bed, he still fell prey to many of the flaws of the male species. His weakness was his supposed strength.
    What had begun as a harmless and harried affair had turned into a powerful partnership. Even better, through their partnership, she had been able to secure an opportunity to increase his reliance on her. He craved not just her body, but also her input, her support, and her encouragement.
    Most would not suspect it, but Antiochus was unsure of himself. He lacked an inner strength that would allow for independent decisions, lightning-quick actions, and orders that did not require a day’s worth of hand-wringing. For this, he had an incessant need for her to be at his side.
    At first, she had welcomed this