GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra
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Chapter Twenty-One
A limousine pulled into the M.A.R.S. compound and up to the main gate. Armed guards at the entrance waved it through without stopping it. The limo drove around the main building and down a ramp into the underground parking area.
Destro folded up the newspaper he was reading and when the limo stopped, he opened the door and got out. He wore a sharp blue suit with gold cufflinks and a gold pin on his tie. He tucked the newspaper under his arm and walked to the elevator, his black leather shoes clicking on the paved parking area. More guards at the entrance and at the elevator nodded in greeting and Destro politely nodded back as he got into the elevator.
They had successfully shipped out the remaining order of weapons the night before, and had removed any trace of their presence, altering documents and editing security footage to make it seem as if the weapons had never been there. Of course, if the intruders the other night had taken photographs, which they almost certainly had, then their rush to remove the evidence would not be much use. But Destro already had a plan for that as well.
The elevator dinged open and he strode out into the hallway on the main floor. Some more employees greeted him as he made his way to his office. M.A.R.S. had office employees just like any other company, and a legion of paper-pushers and office temps scurried around in the downstairs office area. In their way, they were as important as his army of guards and soldiers, and Destro treated them as such.
One of his secretaries handed him a cup of coffee and a stack of reports and he headed up to his office on the second floor. He opened the door and looked inside to see the Baroness seated at his desk. She looked up and breathed a sigh of relief, getting up from his chair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, sounding tired.
“Don’t tell me we have more problems,” Destro said calmly, walking over to the desk.
“No, just a visitor.”
Zartan was seated at one of the chairs, smiling charmingly, one leg propped on the other. He was dressed in gray slacks and a green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His wrists were adorned with bracelets of multicolored string. Today he sported blue eyes and long blonde hair in a greasy ponytail.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ye,” he said with a friendly grin, his voice lilted with a musical Irish accent.
“He insisted on coming in to wait for you,” the Baroness explained, rubbing her eyes. “And I didn’t want to leave him alone in here. I don’t trust him.”
Zartan looked genuinely shocked. “Don’t trust me? Why would ye say somethin’ like that, lass? I’ve been nothin’ but a friend to ye.”
Destro set his coffee and paperwork on the desk and took a seat. The Baroness went to leave, but Destro motioned for her to sit down. “You might as well stay,” he said. “I have to talk to you anyway. And whatever Zartan has to say is your business as well as mine.”
He leaned back and steepled his fingers, eyeing Zartan warily. Sometimes the master of disguise bothered him as well, although he hid it far better than Anastasia did. The man was incredibly useful when it came to gathering information, but Destro always wondered what information about M.A.R.S. Zartan was selling to his other customers, and Destro knew he had other customers. And Zartan’s constant shifting of identity became tiresome. In four years, Destro had never seen what Zartan really looked like or what his natural speaking voice actually was. Destro wondered if Zartan even remembered at this point.
“So what information do you have for me?” he asked.
“Some really good stuff,” Zartan chuckled. He took a folder from beside him and handed it over to Destro, who emptied its contents onto his desk. There was a small stack of glossy photographs and an unlabelled compact disc.
Destro scanned the pictures while sipping his coffee. They showed a large room with a number of hospital beds, most of which were occupied by men in white t-shirts and blue pants. There were also a few pictures of some kind of chemical apparatus and a few computer screens.
“So what am I looking at, exactly?”
“Ye wanted to know what Cobra was workin’ on, didn’t ye?” Zartan asked. “Well, that fella Mindbender’s got a whole bunch of lads hooked up to some kinda drug. That’s just one room I got some pictures of, but there was others.”
“Really? What kind of drug?”
“Well, I did’na know at first, till I got a listen of that little disc there. Took it from one of the guys layin’ in bed.”
Destro, wishing Zartan had chosen a British accent instead of an Irish one, took the disc and slid it into the CD player built into his desk. The disc began to play, coming through the speakers in the wall, and a gentle feminine voice began to speak.
“Welcome to Cobra. You made a very good choice to join Cobra, because we need good people like you. Cobra can make the world a better place, and you can make the world a better place too. Cobra wants to help you. Cobra is dedicated to helping people, and we need your help to make our dreams a reality. We need to fight for our rights, and Cobra helps you win that fight. Cobra is a wonderful place ...”
“Interesting,” Destro said. “Is the entire disc nothing but this?”
“Pretty much, it is,” Zartan said. “But skip to the final track, that’s the real special one.”
Destro skipped forward and let the CD play. “Cobra wants to make the world a better place. And Cobra Commander is going to succeed, with your help. Cobra Commander is your leader and your friend. He wants to help you. Cobra Commander would do anything to help you, so you must do whatever you can to help him. You must do whatever Cobra Commander asks, because he knows what is best. Cobra Commander is your leader. If you follow Cobra Commander, you will be rewarded. You can ...”
“Please turn it off,” the Baroness asked. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Destro ejected the disc and held it in his hand, seeing his reflection in the mirrored surface. “So, I take it Cobra has developed some kind of brainwashing program?”
Zartan nodded. “Aye, I think they have. All the men they had there were kinda dim, if ye know what I mean. Like they weren’t all there.”
“And Mindbender’s drug must enhance the brainwashing?”
“It probably causes it,” Zartan said. “Wipes their brain clean, and that little disc there fills in the blanks.”
“Very interesting,” Destro said. He looked at the disc again and then gently set it on his desk. His gaze returned to the photos. There didn’t seem to be much of an operation to it; there were just some beds, the IV drip which probably contained the drug, and a walkman which played the CD.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Zartan said.
“Is that so?” Destro asked, not looking up at him. He flipped through the pictures again and then handed them over to the Baroness. “What am I thinking, Zartan?”
“You’re thinkin’ you want that drug for yourself, of course.”
Destro pursed his lips and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “No, Zartan, I’m afraid you’re wrong on that count. I’m a weapons dealer, not a drug dealer.”
The Baroness set the photos down. “This is bad, James. I don’t like it at all.”
“Neither do I.”
“Oh, come on now,” Zartan said, spreading his hands. “Ye can’t be tellin’ me that ye wouldn’t love to get your hands on a drug like that.”
“We don’t know anything about it,” Destro reminded him. “How it’s used, how much it takes to work properly, how long it lasts. If it was easy to administer, then Cobra wouldn’t need Mindbender, now would they?”
“It can’t be that hard, I’m sure ye could figure it out.”
Destro shook his head again. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Ye could have an army of totally loyal men.”
“I already have that,” Destro remarked. “And I made them loyal the old-fashioned way, by paying them and making them respect me. I don’t need to rely on some untested drug to make my troops loyal. It’s immoral.”
Zartan scoffed and shook his head incredulously. “I can’t believe what I’m hearin’. Ye sell weapons to terrorists fer Christ’s sake, and now ye want to talk about morality?”
The Baroness turned on him and snapped, “How dare you!”
Destro raised his hand and the Baroness immediately calmed, although she stared daggers at Zartan the whole time. Perhaps it was time to stop making use of Zartan’s services after all, or else Destro might have to physically hold the Baroness back next time.
“Do you know why I sell weapons, Zartan? It’s been a family business for centuries, you know. But do you know why my ancestors chose such an enterprise in the first place, and why I’ve followed in their footsteps?”
“I suppose because ye make a lot of money,” Zartan said sarcastically.
“No, it’s not the money,” Destro answered calmly. “There are lots of ways to make money, even legal ways, that are easier and more effective than selling weapons. You see, my family began the tradition of selling weapons because they believed that a gun is the ultimate symbol of personal freedom. The first James McCullen sold weapons to the British during their Civil War in the 1640s, because he believed in their fight for freedom.”
“He sold weapons to both sides, ye know.”
“Yes, he did. Because fighting for what you believe in is one of the purest forms of personal freedom. My ancestors sold weapons for that reason and so do I. I believe that anyone should be able to fight for a cause, even a misguided one, and so I supply them with the means to do so. I sell weapons to those who cannot get them legally, because weapons are a tool for freedom and rebellion, and I believe anyone should have the opportunity to fight for those things. It’s not just a source of income for me, it’s a matter of personal beliefs.”
When Zartan had no clever comment, Destro continued. “So do you understand why that drug is immoral? It’s because it takes away freedom. It takes away free will.”
“If ye say so,” Zartan said noncommittally.
The Baroness glanced at the pictures one last time and put them on Destro’s desk. “So what are we going to do about Cobra?”
Destro took another sip of his coffee. “There’s not much we can do. We certainly can’t call the police, now can we?”
Zartan suddenly laughed to himself. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell ye,” he chuckled. “I don’t think ye’ll have to worry about callin’ the police. I think Cobra will be receivin’ a visit from them pretty soon anyway.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Did ye hear about the car chase and gunfight in the middle of New York yesterday?”
“I remember seeing something about it on the news.”
“The fellas who got killed were Cobra agents,” Zartan explained. “Seems the military is doin’ some kind of investigation into Mindbender, and they linked him to Cobra somehow. I guess Mindbender got nervous and sent those men after them. The military found out they were bein’ followed and the whole thing turned into a shoot-out right in downtown.”
“How did you find out about it?”
“I overheard Cobra Commander talkin’ about it with his ninja bodyguard. He was already makin’ plans to abandon their whole base of operations there cause he expected the cops to show up any minute.”
“Maybe that solves our problem,” the Baroness suggested.
“I doubt it will be that easy,” Destro said.
“Well, I’ve done my job, anyway,” Zartan said, standing up. He raised his arms above his head and stretched. “I’ll be takin’ my leave now, unless ye have more work for me”
“No, you can go,” Destro said. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
“Have a lovely day, beautiful,” Zartan said to the Baroness on his way out. The door swung shut behind him with a click.
“He needs to work on his Irish accent,” the Baroness said to herself.
“He has to work on a lot of things,” Destro agreed.
“So what do you really plan to do?” the Baroness asked, now that the two of them were alone. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap.
“I think that Cobra has gone a bit too far,” Destro said thoughtfully. “I don’t mind selling them weapons, as long as they’re using them of their own free will. But if their Commander is brainwashing his own troops, that’s something else entirely.”
“I don’t think we can make a move against them right now. At least not until we’re certain that we haven’t been compromised.”
“Yes, you’re right. If we get involved in this, we risk further exposure. Maybe we should sit back for now and just see what happens.”
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