2010-02-27: As You Wish

Featuring:

ezra_icon.pngvasha_icon.png

Date:

February 27, 2010

(ooc date: 08/31/10)

Location:

Summary:

“Justice is the insurance which we have on our lives and property. Obedience is the premium which we pay for it.” —William Penn


Low in the sky to the west the sun is wrapping things up and getting ready for bed. It casts rays of blue, purple, and orange in a brilliant kaleidoscope of color all across the South African sky. The colors dance in the gently undulating pool on Jan's estate. It is a setting of unadultered peace. It is the calm before the storm.

Ezra is sitting pool side, a pair of sunglasses and his Beretta sitting near him. He's reading a book, some leatherbound Poe collection. His shirt is piled near his other belongings, showing the myriad of scars, a couple of tattoos, and his phone resting on his slowly rising and falling stomach.

The door opens from one side of the courtyard, the Lieutenant's wing. Wearing what seems to be only a long linen shirt that reaches to her knees, Vasha steps around the pool until she reaches the chair. Though she would likely prefer a swim, there's other business to attend to. She stretches out in one of the lounges alongside Ezra and closes her eyes to the dying light.

"There are many things I need to discuss with you." There's no hello, no asking how his evening or day has been. Her tone is as unfeeling as ever, almost bored sounding. The smooth South African accent makes her words sound silky yet harsh at the same time. "It seems as though one of the Americans who was caught in the crossfire is a rather important man. Was… rather."

"I guess 'rather important' is one way to describe it." Ezra is hardly political science major, but Supreme Court Justices are kind of memorable. Especially new ones. He doesn't look up from the book, but his own tone is anything but bored. "There is going to be some major shit rolling down the hill on someone."

Ezra slides the book closed around one finger, setting it down in his lap. He stares at the water, watching the failing light splash around on its surface. He doesn't speak anymore, though. Its best not to interrupt your superior officer all too much, especially when you don't know what they're about to say.

"Yes, my father is weighing the situation. Thus far, he's come to one conclusion." Vasha's voice, to anyone that doesn't know her, still conveys a rather neutral in tone. To Ezra or anyone close to her, there is a small tick of something else there. "The United States of America will be demanding that whomever is responsible be deported."

She angles her head toward Ezra and raises her eyebrows a tick, silently questioning him. Puckering her lips only slightly, she gives a rather slow, almost lazy, blink and breathes out a long sigh. "Tell me Mar-tin, how important is your station here?"

"Important." Ezra stuffs his hand into his right pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a black carbon Zippo. A couple of faint clicks, and a trail of lazy blue-gray smoke laces its way into the deepening night. "I take it he's feeling like it'd be a better idea to give up the American with the history than the trigger happy bastard who's actually responsible?"

Normally, he wouldn't talk like that. Not to her, anyway. Lefu, yes. Troops. Most everybody else. But not to her. That was too close to unprofessional. "I won't go down for treason."

"No." Her simple reply cuts him off last sentence before she turns her head back up to look at the sky. "You are an American citizen, it would be much too simple for them to come and take you. In order to protect Lefu, they will lay the blame on me." She stops at a soft point, though it's not discernible whether it's a sad not or one that's simply tired.

"I wish for you to protect my interests for the duration of all of this. My father does not believe that they will be able to get an extradition order against me, because of my last name." Somewhere, somehow, the woman is protecting him in all of this, he should know it. It is likely that Jan came up with Ezra as the first sacrifice.

Which is what Ezra expected. His surprise is evident in the raised eyebrow he offers when he turns head to look at her for the first time in the conversation. He doesn't comment on it, however. He wouldn't insult her that way. "Of course."

That moment passed, he turns back to the water. Ole, reliable water. Its constant shifting is almost too much like reality; seemingly peaceful but never still. Just almost, though. "We need to come up with some insurance policies, though. If they did get to you, despite who you are… your last name would be a liability in America. Doesn't matter if what they put on the news is true, if they say it enough, people will believe it."

"There is no insurance policy." Vasha's words are short and clipped, betraying an impatience. It's that same impatience that has Lefu prowling around, looking for enemies all around. Something that she learned from a combination of him and her father, though Jan's patience rarely runs thin aside from being disobeyed.

Letting loose a small sigh, the brunette puckers her lips ever so slightly before continuing. "As I said," when she begins again, there's a softer edge, more silken. "There is no insurance policy in the event that I am extradited. Should the Americans win their case, it is likely that I will go through their court system and should I lose… I will be executed. I am familiar with which states still give such punishments and unfortunately my father's sources say that my trial will be in one of those."

Ezra isn't the type to argue. Stubborn, yes, but he isn't going to argue about it for no reason. For a few moments his mind wanders over which states have the death penalty, and the average time people remain on death row before actually being executed. That is a pointless exercise, though, other than knowing that unless they expedited the process there would be plenty of time for 'insurance policies' to be played out. He quickly cuts the thought out of his mind, inclining his head briefly. "As you wish."

"Do you remember when you came to us, Ezra?" She only ever calls him by his first name when she's about to actually talk about something very important. Vasha doesn't look at him, though her lips twitch a little in memory. "It was just before the attempt on my father's life. Perhaps a year maybe, ja?" She was in her early twenties when Ezra first came to them, the details of his initial contact is something never spoken about by Jan.

A soft smile is pointed up to the sky and she looks over at him before the expression fades away. "I have never questioned why it is that you have stayed, not in all of this time. But now, it is rather important that I know you are loyal to me before my father and Lefu."

Its no great secret that Ezra and Lefu aren't the best of friends, but then, his original plan isn't exactly the kind of thing you can tell somebody. Especially his daughter; no matter what the circumstances are. He actually laughs a little bit. Well, maybe not a laugh. Something of a chuckle. It just escapes his throat before he can stop it, but he doesn't appear overly concerned that it got out anyway.

"In that, you don't have anything to worry about. You're actually the only reason I'm still here." That isn't exactly clear, but then, it is at least honest. "You think we're going to be up against it from the inside, too?" His use of the word 'we' is telling, in any case.

Vasha turns to look at him for the duration of his laugh and at the sound of it, the left corner of her lips curl upward disappearing as soon as the mirthful sound is over. "I am uncertain, but it is something I do not wish to chance." Her eyelids slide down to cover her eyes halfway, giving her something of a lazy expression.

"There is but one insurance policy, Ezra, it is for you." There is a pregnant pause that allows for the sound of the water lapping at the side of the pool to echo through the courtyard. "No one knows of it, no one. You must never divulge anything that I tell you, if you do, you are only shooting yourself in the foot. Should they take me, there is a letter in my bedroom that I wish for you to retrieve. It is in the safe behind the dresser mirror, you remember the combination?"

"The last thing you should be worrying about is me, Vasha." Apparently this is one of those serious conversations where people address each other on a first name basis. Ezra reaches over and grabs the .9mm, pops the clip out by depressing the button on the left side of the grip, and begins taking the weapon apart as if he were going to clean it. Its an old habit, something he does when he's thinking.

"I remember the combination." There's that nasty habit of not arguing, again. He might not go any further in voicing his opinion on the subject, but he is obviously not writing off any options just yet should the worst come to pass.

The South African woman's eyebrows furrow together into an angry vee when accused of worry over a subordinate. Though she may do it, calling attention to the fact is akin to accusing her of weakness. Her expression hardens into a grimace of distaste and much like her father and Lefu both, she lets out a snort if disgust. "I do not worry for you, I am concerned about my interests. Interests that you swore to me that you would protect." Whether that interest is him or not, well it's flatly denied in a roundabout way.

"You will take the letter from my room and you will follow its instruction." Her order, command, what-have-you is absolute with no room for argument or discussion. "It is very important that you do this, do you understand?"

"Have you ever known me to do anything less?" Ezra doesn't force the little smile off his face. Its almost imperceptible anyway, but its the kind of thing that he'd normally handle with her. This time he lets it hang around. Just a little bit of amusement to go along with his assurance that her will be done.

"I will see to it with the enthusiasm and dedication I have shown to all the things you have set me to do for as long as I've been here."

"See that you do, I would hate that my final act in life be a disappointment in you." With that, Vasha Kruger, swings her legs off the lounge and glides up to a stand. Her long chemise is straightened with all the haughty manner of a Port Elizabeth Princess. When she is satisfied that everything is in its right place, she raises her chin and looks down her nose at him with a tiny expression of disdain.

"I know you will not disappoint me, see to it that my faith in you is well placed." Without waiting for a word from him and without a word of goodnight, the willowy brunette winds her way around the pool and back to the patio doors to her wing of the house.