Covert Novelist

Home » Short Stories » Nathan » Nathan Parlay

Nathan Parlay


Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,671 other subscribers

Jessop was beside himself with self-satisfaction and self-aggrandizement. His plans were working like clockwork.  Soon, very soon, he’d have Nathan locked up tight.  If only he’d thought to work this angle before….ah well, what did it matter, everything was falling into place as it should. He was vibrating with excitement.  He felt good. He had the upper hand.

His men were in place, had picked Nathan up and as ordered, he’d come alone.  Good little doggy.  He’d listened well.  He wasn’t into torture, couldn’t bear the thought of it, but he had friends who would be delighted in adding a little agony.  It was a thought.

First, he must find out how much Nathan had managed to uncover and who else knew.  It wouldn’t be enough to finish Nathan off with loose ends dangling for someone else to come upon.  He must clamp down any loose ends to finish this off.

He must give the idea some thought.  The list was long and connected.  The entire Banks family ( a slew of misfortunes could befall them, as with Nathan’s parents).  Yes, he knew all about that and how it had eaten away at Nathan for years.  It was a consideration.

The newspaper man could be taken out one way or another. His family probably didn’t know about his work or the details.  Research told him he played the game close to his vest.

Nathan’s men, well once Nathan was completely discredited and disappeared, those puny minuscule remnants would likely go their own way with nothing to hold them to Nathan.  They were simply pawns assigned to various jobs as his men were, readily replaced at a moments notice.

The creme de la creme in his mind was his ability to parlay the situation into a two-fer.  How exceedingly delightful!  What a boon!  If only there were someone to brag to.  Then there was the consideration of which piece of Nathan’s would fit in his den…there were certainly hundreds of paintings to choose from.  Perhaps he’d done one of Emma.  Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?  Having his beloved’s picture hanging on his wall, for his eyes only.  His eyes danced as he balled his hands into fists and raised them in the air.  Oh yes, how completely delightful!  He was a master and masterful indeed. He smiled menacinly.  “Let the games begin!  or rather End!”





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: