A Message From Pluto

CHAPTER 2: The Master's Master

The Quinton Villa was a one of it's kind in suburban Texas. One look at it and you start wondering if it was built to be intimidating rather than for it's beauty. For intimidating it was but it's beauty left a lot to be desired. A sprawling structure that started halfway up a mountain and spread out like a giant's palm at the base of the mountain, giving the impression that the place was more than just a home.

It housed a helipad that was suspended halfway into the mountain , stretching out into space. There was a flight of stairs snaking up to the landing pad and a lift encased in a glass partition. On the opposite side of the mountain was the garage that had a fleet of exotic cars. Directly behind this garage was a swimming pool with dotted artificial trees to make for shade. A tennis court stood among a line of trees, sandwiched between a badminton court and a park with benches leaning against the trees that designated the area. Beyond these rows of trees a man worked slowly, unhurriedly as he swept the dried leaves that littered the courts.

He was dressed in overalls, a signature cloth he wore every morning when he attended to his chores. With a baseball cap placed on his head at a careless angle, tilting to cover the left eye, giving an impression that it could fall at any time and a hunched back, you will guess he may be middle age or into the sixties. but on closer inspection, he was twenty nine years old, six feet four. His appearance here was one of his best disguise. He rushed through his duties, finished the sweeping of the leaves and brought a wheeled bin in which the leaves were gathered.

There was a sound behind him and he turned to look just in time to see one of the three cleaning ladies who came in every weekend to tidy things up crossing the lawn and disappeared behind a shed that housed Mr Quinton's birds. Mr Quinton loved birds and kept a thousand chicken which he tried to tend himself whenever he had the time. That time never seemed to be enough but keep them, he still insisted.

"It will keep our supply of chicken steady*. He argued. So there was a hand to take care of the birds when Mr Quinton was not around which was almost all the time.

" There's going to be a fresh supply of poultry feed coming in at ten". He shouted after her. Just when he thought she had not heard him and he wanted to repeat himself her head popped out from behind the shed door.

"What did you say?" She asked.

"Chicken food supply's coming in. You are expected to take delivery and the records. I'm going to town later'. He repeated himself.

She nodded and her head disappeared again. He pushed his dirt to the furnace a few meters down the other side of the hill, poured it out, removed his gloves and hung them out on a nail that had been put on a stake for that purpose.

He glanced at his watch and hurried over to a cluster of buildings that were meant for workers who slept in. His phone started ringing when he inserted his key into the lock. Opening the door with his right hand and fishing for the phone with his left, managed to answer the call as the door swung open.

"Mr Harris, you asked for a birthday gift. I wonder when you intend to pick it up" The man at the other end said immediately he answered.

"Not to worry. Have it ready, I will require it at a moment's notice. Ted Harris replied, moving into the room and closing the door behind him with his heel. " I will call you on this number when I need it. Spare no expenses I will take care of it"

" Be rest assured, everything will be as expected, but Mr Quinton has taken care of everything and he demanded that we treat you as VVIP"

"Very well, then I will not dwell on protocol, thank you for taking care of me. I will leave you alone, I know you are a busy man." He said.

The other man mumbled incoherently then said," I can never be too busy for you. We are always at your service".

They hung up and Ted removed his clothes and walk into the bathroom stark naked. As every other day, he looked at himself in the large mirror that had been placed directly opposite the bath tub, . Deep set eyes stared back at him, immediately above which was a wide clean forehead. A crown of thick black hair cropped to the left made him look rather attractive. He had a nose that seemed a little too large, a long jaw bone and a thin mouth. His soon-to-be ex wife once said the problem she had about leaving him was his good looks. Apart from this comeliness, he had nothing else to offer. Not money, not protection, not the glitterati that girls these days found so hard to live without. Her friends and family expected her kind of beauty to marry the money since her career was flying like they wish it would. He had promised her a good life if she gave him time, " not too long into the future. " She had laughed, like she always laughed when he spoke to her giving her a good life, tossing back those pretty curls and squinting into his face.

" You know I love you". She had said. "I love your positive disposition, your dreams, your outlook on life. But even I believe you would go hungry if I were not here to take care of you. Wake up, don't die in your dreams. This is life and it's for living. I don't expect you to, but after the divorce, if you have a problem you feel I can help, you know how to reach me" She had said. She was one person who never took him seriously at all. And this attitude seemed contagious in the Sanders family. Even the brat Paul thought he was useless.

Ted stepped into the tub and allowed the cold water to run over him like a mountain spring, savoring the cool feeling it gave him, with it a purpose greater than anything he had planned before.

He wanted to conquer the world, so a woman should not be such a big obstacle. How will he expect world leaders to listen to him if he was looked down upon by a girl and her small family. After a long while, he got out of the shower, dried himself took one more look into the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. He picked up his phone and dialled a number. It was answered immediately.

"Quinton, I think it's about time". He said in a different voice, a voice that demanded obedience without being harsh. The voice that answered was full of respect.

"Yes Mr Harris"