Precipice Read Free

listening intently for a minute, he uttered two words, “Good work,” and hung up, setting the phone on the papers beside him.
    He smiled to himself, contemplating the upcoming events, knowing his introduction to the world would be magnificent. Foundations of power were about to be shaken. Precious few people would ever see it coming, and those who did would be too late to intervene.
    He focused again on the rain outside. It continued its steady drizzle, creating small rivulet patterns on the windowpane.
     
    ***
    Michael Krieger exited his car and turned to look at his destination. Once upon a time, the towering columns, stone statues, and haunting, gothic architecture of this massive abode would have intimidated him. But that was years ago. He’d seen too much in his 71 years to be impressed or daunted anymore.
    He tugged at the sleeves on his black, leather jacket to straighten it, concealing the small Christian cross tattooed on his wrist. He never got used to wearing street clothes; he struggled to remember he was a civilian now. In his current line of work, however, it was beneficial to downplay his years in the service. Most of the people he met on the job didn’t think much of military personnel or law enforcement.
    The pristine condition of the building struck him as he climbed the steps to the massive, double-door entrance. It was easily as old as he, but as it gleamed in the morning sun, it rivaled anything newly built. And it would probably outlast those newer buildings as well , he mumbled. Buildings back in the day were built to last, not like the new-fangled architectures constructed today solely for appearance. As he reached toward the old, pewter knocker, the door swung open. He was expected.
    His newest client, a wealthy museum director, stood in the wide entranceway. Michael jokingly thought of his clients as rich, young rulers, which always made him chuckle. The “rich, young ruler” was a character in a famous Christian narrative.
    With classic archetypes, practical morality, and a complex theological amalgam of sin and salvation, the Bible was packed with intrigue and insight into human neurosis. He’d read it cover to cover after an English professor commented, “Only after reading the Bible can one hope to understand literature and fine arts.” He showed examples from Shakespeare to Steinbeck, from Springsteen to Metallica.
    Though it kept him sane during long years overseas, the depths of human depravity ultimately cooled Krieger’s interest and he’d put aside his study of religion. All that remained were random connections to amusing stories. The rich, young ruler was one. Michael loved them for their vanity. Their love of money and material possessions made them easy prey.
    “Please come in. I’ve been expecting you.” The man in the doorway greeted him. He stood tall and lanky, with tight curly hair. If Michael didn’t know better, he would’ve guessed his client still in college with his awkward, youthful appearance. Ruddy cheeks and pronounced dimples accentuated a baby face.
    “Herr Braxton, I knew you would be.” Michael strode through the foyer, led the way into the adjacent room and sat down in one of the large high-backed armchairs.
    As the young man hastened to another chair, Michael picked up a fancy crystal decoration from the glass-topped end table between them. A dolphin leapt from a crashing wave. “You know, the ancient Greeks once revered dolphins. Their presence during a voyage was believed to be a good omen.”
    The client didn’t respond, balancing so close to the edge of the seat, it was a wonder the chair didn’t topple. The poor man fidgeted incessantly, running his hands through his messy hair and subsequently brushing loose strands out of his eyes. It didn’t take years of psychological training to recognize anxiety.
    “Alright, then. Let’s get to business.” Michael replaced the crystal dolphin on the glass and straightened in his chair. He let his