Chapter 208: Watching and Waiting
The New York Continental Hotel.
Rain drummed steadily against the hotel's glass façade.
Cold.
Relentless.
Like a silent judgment passed without emotion.
The vast lobby was quiet.
A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its sharp light cutting through the room like an invisible blade.
Charon stood outside the manager's office.
His white gloves were immaculate.
His posture, perfectly straight.
He knocked gently.
A deep, composed voice came from within.
"Come in."
Charon opened the door.
The fireplace remained unlit.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's lights stretched into blurred ribbons through the rain, as though order itself had been pulled apart and distorted.
Winston sat behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand.
The amber liquid swayed gently beneath the lamplight.
Charon stopped exactly two paces from the desk.
The distance between them had always been precisely that.
No more.
No less.
"Good evening, sir."
"Good evening, Charon."
Charon placed a black envelope on the marble desktop.
The wax seal had already been broken.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, neatly folded without a single unnecessary crease.
His tone remained even.
"Sir, the High Table's second directive has been carried out."
Winston didn't look at the letter immediately.
Instead, he raised his eyes to Charon.
"Completely?"
"Yes, sir."
Charon continued his report without the slightest change in expression.
"Dr. Rayne's vehicle has been upgraded."
"The ballistic protection has been increased to B7 standard."
"The engine and powertrain have been optimized."
"And..."
"A monitoring unit has been embedded within the vehicle's electronic control module."
The room seemed to grow a little colder.
Charon added,
"However, as you instructed, every modification has been disclosed in full to Mr. Wick."
Silence settled over the office.
Outside, the rain suddenly seemed much louder.
Only then did Winston lower his gaze and open the envelope.
There were only two lines on the page.
No signature.
Only the identification seal of the High Table.
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk in a slow, measured rhythm.
A few moments later, he folded the document and returned it to the envelope.
He opened a drawer.
Inside already rested another identical black envelope.
It had been delivered personally by a High Table messenger several days earlier.
It, too, contained only a single sheet.
Its contents had been concise...
...and merciless.
[By resolution approved and signed by eleven members of the High Table (with one seat recused due to a conflict of interest), Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is hereby granted the authority of Supreme Executive for the purpose of carrying out a special operation.]
Beneath the decree...
...were the signatures of all eleven members.
From the moment that resolution had taken effect...
...within the scope of that operation, the Marquis had become, to the Continental...
...judge.
...jury.
...and commander.
Winston placed the new envelope into the drawer beside the first.
Then he closed it.
The lock clicked shut with a crisp metallic sound.
"Charon."
"Yes, sir."
"For the time being..."
"Keep your distance from the clinic."
"Do not approach them."
"And don't attempt to guide events."
He looked up.
His voice was so calm it was almost gentle.
"For now..."
"...we simply watch."
Charon inclined his head.
"Understood, sir."
The room fell silent once more.
Rain continued to fall beyond the glass.
Winston let out a quiet sigh.
"So..."
"Someone finally lost their patience."
"Yes, sir."
Charon answered evenly.
"The Marquis is leading the operation."
"The target..."
"...is Dr. Rayne."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop another degree.
Winston took a slow sip of whiskey.
"Failure to cooperate will be regarded as the loss of a strategic asset..."
He couldn't help chuckling.
"They're always so fond of dressing brutality in elegant language."
Charon spoke softly.
"The Marquis is young."
Without taking his eyes off the rain-soaked skyline, Winston replied,
"Young people are always eager to prove themselves..."
"...even when they're standing before a table that's a hundred years older than they are."
After a brief pause, Charon asked,
"Should we begin making preparations?"
Winston's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Preparations?"
"If the High Table proceeds to the next stage."
Winston rose from his chair and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window.
The city's lights spread beneath the rain like pieces laid across a vast chessboard.
"If they take that next step..."
"...it will no longer be about planting personnel..."
"...or upgrading a car."
He gazed silently into the rainy night.
"It will be the beginning..."
"...of a war."
The room fell silent once again.
Charon spoke quietly.
"And if it truly comes to that..."
"...do we carry out the order?"
Winston didn't answer immediately.
He simply gazed out over New York.
"Charon."
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me..."
"A man who can bring the dead back to life..."
"...to whom should he belong?"
Charon fell silent for a couple of seconds.
"Theoretically..."
"...to God."
"Exactly."
Winston's voice was almost a whisper.
"And now..."
"...someone wishes to become God."
He slowly turned around.
"My friend..."
"Who do you think is qualified for such a role?"
Charon considered the question.
In the end, he could only shake his head.
He had no answer.
Winston continued.
"Some people believe he's merely a doctor."
"Others believe he's far more than that."
"But everyone agrees on one thing."
"Everyone wants the security that his medicine provides."
He paused.
"And now..."
"Some people want something even greater."
"They want the part that should never belong to mortals."
Charon understood exactly what Winston meant.
Unable to suppress his curiosity, he asked,
"Sir..."
"What does the High Table truly want?"
"Do they honestly believe..."
"...that the doctor can be controlled?"
Winston looked directly at him.
His expression grew unusually serious.
"My friend..."
"You've finally reached the heart of the matter."
He paused for a moment.
"On the surface..."
"It appears they simply want to make the doctor their possession."
"But before discussing any problem..."
"...you must first make one assumption."
"Assume that everyone involved is extraordinarily intelligent."
"Assume that no one is a fool."
Charon nodded slowly.
"I understand the premise..."
"But I still don't understand."
"If they're truly that intelligent..."
"Why would they deliberately provoke the doctor?"
He hesitated before continuing.
"And..."
"It isn't just the doctor they're offending."
"It feels as though they're provoking everyone."
Winston smiled.
"You're only seeing the surface."
He returned to his chair, picked up his whiskey, and took another measured sip.
"The world operates according to its own rules."
"At present..."
"There is one rule that everyone has silently accepted."
"The doctor must not be harmed."
"His safety is inviolable."
He spoke calmly, but every word carried weight.
"It's no different from the rules that forbid killing inside the Continental..."
"...or require every Marker to be honored."
He continued,
"Within that framework..."
"Everything that happens to the doctor reveals something about him."
"His personality."
"His preferences."
"The principles by which he lives."
"The more choices he makes..."
"The more often he acts..."
"...the more completely people come to understand him."
"And once they understand him..."
"...they can predict how he'll respond."
"And if they can predict his response..."
"...they can learn how to achieve their own objectives through him."
Charon remained silent.
Winston continued.
"Sometimes..."
"If someone acts against the doctor..."
"...so long as it doesn't threaten his life..."
"Many people will simply watch."
"Some may even welcome it."
He swirled the whiskey in his glass.
"If you offer the doctor goodwill..."
"...and he accepts it..."
"Then, in a sense, you've created a connection."
"Your goodwill becomes part of his world."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"But if someone insults the doctor..."
"...that person often becomes..."
"...someone else's gift."
"A sacrifice offered to earn the doctor's favor."
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