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DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Magnificent Seven or any of it’s characters, nor do I make any money whatsoever from this story. All copyrights apply.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: My thanks to Nancy and Joy as well as my Beta readers.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: All feedback welcome, but try to keep it nice. This is my seventh story. A much-loved theme of obsession and revenge.
"Why seven?"The man standing on the other side of the counter looked up from his wallet.
"Excuse me?" he asked coldly from behind his dark glasses.
The flower shop assistant ducked his head, "Just wondered why you want seven roses, a dozen is traditional," he mumbled by way of explanation.
The man gave a feral smile, "Well, these roses aren’t going to be used for traditional purposes," he said handing over the money for the flowers.
"Oh," the youth shrugged, "OK."
He gave the man his change and receipt and watched as he left the shop.
The shop assistant gave a shudder; the man had a definite creepiness about him. A look in his eyes that would give any sane person the willies.
He wondered what the flowers were for.
Sunday
For once the offices of team seven were quiet. This was because all the members were at home. This did not however mean that the offices were empty; there was someone there. Someone who shouldn’t be there and was currently places objects at various places around the office for the seven ATF agents to find the next morning.The man smiled as he worked. He had a good reason for doing what he was doing, also curiosity. Well, that’s what he called it, innocent curiosity.
The man took a moment to look around the office, wondering if his work would be appreciated. He smiled again, probably not. But at least, soon enough, it would be understood.
Monday
"I hate Mondays!" JD growled as he pushed himself back from his desk, "Nothing good ever happens on a Monday."Buck looked over at his young roommate, "What’s wrong with you?" he asked.
"My computer's playing up again," JD told him, "Third time in one week."
Buck held up his hands, "Don’t even start talking computers to me, I hate the things."
"A necessary evil?" came a Texan voice from the opposite side of the room.
Wilmington looked across at Vin and made a face. Vin mimicked it and Buck raised a finger in warning, Tanner responded by holding up a hand in mock surrender.
Chris entered the room then from his office putting an end to all play fighting by the look on his face. The members of team seven immediately knew something was off.
"I’m afraid I have some bad news, boys," he started, making sure he had everyone’s attention.
"This can’t be good," Josiah commented from his desk across from Nathan.
Chris nodded, "It’s not. As you know, Dean Kerry’s trial was yesterday," the six men nodded remembering the minion of a notorious gun smuggler named Red Pearson, "Well, Kerry got out on bail and promptly skipped the country. He turned state's so he more than likely feared for his life. The really bad news is, that he was our only witness against Pearson. Without Kerry’s testimony he could walk."
There were a few headshakes and some protests.
Chris held up a hand, "I know, I know. But, unfortunately, there’s nothing we can actually do about it. We arrested Pearson, not Kerry. It’s not our case."
"But they do intend to pursue it? Whose case is it?" Buck asked.
"A San Francisco team," Chris told them, "And yes, they do intend to pursue it."
This news did little to brighten the spirits of team 7. There was nothing like putting months of your heart and soul into a case then watch it crumble because of one small, seemingly insignificant thing.
"In the mean time," Larrabee continued in mock enthusiasm, "We have another case."
Without needing to be asked the six men trudged after their leader into the conference room and took their seat. Chris took the folders he carried and handed them out, one to each. Inside was a dossier on a man called John Smith.
"John Smith? My, what an interesting name," Ezra commented dryly.
"Probably not real," Buck remarked.
"If you’re going change your name, at least change it to something interesting," Vin said, "Something like Alfonso McNamara."
"Alfonso McNamara? I think you’re mixing cultures there Vin," JD told the sharpshooter.
"Gentlemen?" Chris said in a tone that suggested they weren’t.
"John Smith was and still is a very successful tobacco farmer, but has since been involved in cases of people dying from nicotine poisoning from smoking his cigarettes. It’s believed Smith makes special batches of cigarettes containing more than the allowed percentage of nicotine for his less than favourite customers. All we need now is proof.
"Ezra? You’ll be going undercover as a buyer. Vin? You’ll be accompanying him as his consultant," Chris said.
Vin looked up at the word consultant, "Consultant for what?"
"Tobacco," Chris told him.
"I don’t smoke," Vin observed.
"You won’t have to," Chris said, "You and Ezra will be in there maximum an hour. All you need to do is contact Smith and let him know you’re interested in buying a supply of cigarettes, then let him know you’re an good friend of Lex Brown. Brown was one of the men Smith allegedly poisoned because he didn’t pay for a previous order. We bring the cigarettes back here, test them for high nicotine content and, hopefully, arrest John Smith."
"When will this take place," Ezra asked.
"You’ll contact him today and make an appointment to see him for as soon as possible," Larrabee said, "You’ll find all his information in that profile."
The seven men around the table picked up their folders and made their way back to their desks. Ezra had immediately started forming aliases for himself and Vin, as the rest of the team made themselves as familiar as possible with John Smith, by reading his profile and previous convictions.
At four o’clock Ezra put down the phone, whereby he had been making an appointment with Smith’s secretary, and leaned back in his chair.
Vin looked up at him, "All set?" he asked.
Ezra nodded, then frowned as something caught his attention from the other side of the room. The undercover agent smiled, "Ah Mr Wilmington, will you ever change?" he asked in half seriousness.
Buck looked over with a frown of his own, "Unlikely," he said, "What are you going on about?"
"What lucky lady is it tonight?" Ezra continued, "A waitress from the canteen or one of our more impressionable secretaries?"
Buck gave a laugh, "I wish," he said, "What makes you think I have a date tonight?"
Ezra gave him a look, "Those are your roses are they not?" he pointed at eight-drawer filing cabinet near the door of the offices. Buck turned in his chair and followed Standish’s gaze. He frowned again and shook his head slowly, "No," he said.
Ezra sat up straight, "They’re not?" he asked in a slightly disbelieving tone.
"Then who’s are they?" asked Nathan, who had been listening in.
When no one claimed them all six men in the main office area stood and went over to the filing cabinet. Being the tallest, Nathan reached up and brought down the simple glass vase containing seven red roses. There was a card attached to them and the medic read it out loud.
"‘To the incomparable team seven, better luck next time!’"
There was a silence after Nathan finished speaking, then someone cleared their throat, "Is it signed?" Vin asked.
Nathan double checked the card and shook his head, "No."
"There’s only seven," Josiah pointed out, "A dozen roses is traditional."
"Seven roses for seven men," said a grinning Buck, "Looks like we have a secret admirer."
"It’s a bit creepy," JD said leaning over to look.
"An interesting choice of words, they seem more mocking than congratulating," Ezra observed.
Josiah nodded in agreement, "The handwriting is angular," he said, "Suggesting, um… emotional instability."
This received him a few looks.
"I don’t think this is as innocent as it appears," Vin said carefully, "Let's show Chris."
"Show me what," came their leader's voice from behind them, "And what are you doing, don’t you have work to do?"
They turned and Nathan, who was still holding the roses, held the vase out to Larrabee.
Chris raised an eyebrow, "For me? You shouldn’t have," he said sarcastically.
"We found them on the filing cabinet," JD told him, "There’s a note."
Larabee took the roses but the cynical look never left his face, until he read the note. Then he made a different face, a glare.
"Is this a joke?" he demanded.
"Nope, Ez saw ‘em and thought they were mine," Buck told his old friend seriously.
"Well that was my first thought as well," Chris admitted, "How long have they been there?"
"Probably all day. Their position was not one that encouraged notability," Ezra said, "I only saw them when I happened to glance up."
"Josiah thinks the card was written by someone with emotional instability," JD said.
"Really?"
Josiah nodded, "The handwriting suggests a instable background and a creative flair," he said.
Chris looked surprised, "Creative," he repeated and then shook his head, "We don’t have time for this. We’ll leave it to security to figure out. In the meantime we have a job to do, in case you lot had forgotten."
The team got back to work as their leader contacted the buildings security and reported the roses mysterious appearance. He asked them to check surveillance and sign-ins for the previous day and night. Security sent up someone to collect the vase of flowers and after they were gone Chris all but forgot about the incident. Until he got a call from the guard downstairs saying that at approximately 3 o’clock the previous afternoon a cleaner was seen entering their offices and according to the tapes from that day he was the one that placed the flowers as well as a few other items in their office.
"Other items?" Chris enquired with bare constraint.
"Couldn’t really see on the video, bad quality, but it seems this person put something in or around each desk in the office and your desk in your office," the guard told him, "Want us to come have a look around?"
"No, we’ll tell you if we find anything," Chris replied.
After hanging up he immediately searched around his desk, then under it and under his chair. Nothing jumped to his attention. Then he slid his hand along the underside of his desk and encountered a flat, glossy sheet of paper, taped to the wood.
He pulled it out and looked at with a strange expression on his face. It was an enlargement of a black and white picture; more precisely it was an enlargement of a black and white photo of him. Him outside the Federal building.
The six other members of team seven were quite startled when their leaders door flew open and banged on its hinges. Chris stood in the doorway the photo in one hand; he looked around then his eyes settled on the closest desk, Nathan’s.
He walked up to it, "Excuse me, Nate," he said and reached under the table. Whatever comments any of the seven had been about to make died as Larrabee held up an identical size picture to his own, except this picture was of the medic also outside the building. The others immediately looked down at their own desks then proceeded to search underneath. Each of them found a picture, glossy, black and white and identical size to all the others. They were pictures of themselves, outside the federal building.
For the second time in as many days the offices of the infamous team seven were quiet for once. There were a couple of false starts as members opened their mouths to comment but ended up closing them again in defeat as the words would not come.
Eventually JD said, "There’s writing on the back of mine."
"What does it say?" Buck asked.
JD looked closely at the white square of paper and read out loud.
"‘After a tremendous victory.’"
Vin looked thoughtful, "Must’ve been after the Pearson bust," he suggested.
"Those were the clothes you were wearing that day," Ezra conceded looking at Vin’s picture, "Not a bad angle," he added giving the picture a critical glance.
Vin grinned, "Thanks."
"Well, mine doesn’t say anything," Buck said sounding slightly huffy. After a quick look it was ascertained that JD’s was the only one with a message.
Chris looked about ready to murder someone, he scrunched up his eyes then opened them, looking no less volatile, "Ezra when is your meet?" he asked without taking his eyes off his photo.
"Tomorrow, 10:30," the undercover agent told him.
"Again," the leader of team seven said carefully, "We let security handle this. Ezra, Vin? You’ll meet with Smith tomorrow, arrange a buy. In the meantime security will find out who this is," he waved the photo for emphasise, "We do not let this interfere with this case, understood?"
Everyone nodded and handed over their photos. For the second time that day Chris called security and asked them to collect the photographs.
"Is that what they were?" the guard on the other side asked.
"Yes," Chris said, "Could you send someone to collect them? And also we need this resolved as quickly as possible."
"We’ll get right on it, sir," the guard told him, feeling important.
Tuesday
The next morning Ezra and Vin, now known as Evan Sanders and Vinnie Jones, drove to John Smith’s plantation to make a deal. Outside the estate the rest of the team occupied two cars, each on one side of the land listening in and keeping an eye. Smith’s secretary, to whom Ezra had spoken the previous day, met them at his offices."Mr Sanders? Mr Smith will see you now, please follow me," she told indicating that they should go with her down the tastefully and expensively decorated hall. They came to a double oak door and the secretary, who name was typically Maggie, knocked. There came a muffled reply from within, "Come."
Maggie opened the ornate doors, showed them in then left closing the doors behind her. The office was furnished and decorated in much the same manner as the hallway. Almost dead centre was a large desk, probably mahogany, behind which sat John Smith in a plush leather chair.
Smith gave a charming yet feral smile and held out his hand to indicate the two chairs in front of his desk, "Gentleman, please have a seat," he said. They sat and Ezra gave the man a cool look while Vin played the silent associate.
"So," John Smith slapped the desk to get things rolling, "You’re interested in a my stock?"
Ezra nodded still giving the man a calculating stare. Smith grinned again and then gave a purely aesthetic frown, "Did you say you were a friend of Lex Brown?" he asked.
Ezra nodded slowly, "I was," he said, "Until his untimely demise."
Smith nodded, the smile gone for once, "Yes. Most unfortunate," he appeared to dismiss this and moved on to business, "Now about your buy. How many crates are we looking at?"
Ezra gave a humourless smile, "One," he told the man knowing he was expecting something bigger.
There was a barely perceptible pause from Smith, then the smile came back, "Of course. One crate, 500 boxes. Regular?" he rallied.
"Yes. This is just to test the waters, you understand?"
"Test?" Smith said with bare control of his facial muscles.
"Yes, although Lex bought many shipments from you, he never really raved about the quality," Ezra said maliciously, "This is how these go, of course," he added using a pompous tone.
The muscles in Smith's jaw started to work as he clenched his teeth together in irritation, a sight not missed by either of the agents.
"Of course," he repeated, "Your shipment will be delivered within a two days, my secretary has your details," John Smith stood, "Good day to you," he said clearly ending the meeting.
Back in the car Vin turned to Ezra, "Hope you didn’t piss him off to much."
"No, just enough for him to try and exterminate me," the undercover agent replied with a laugh.
Wednesday
As promised by John Smith, the shipment of cigarettes arrived at an undisclosed location within two days. The contents, 500 boxes of 20 pack Smith Regular Filters, were taken for testing. Team Seven expected answers by the end of the day. The other things they were expecting answers for but had idea when they would get them by, was the stalker incident earlier that week.When asked Chris replied, "We’ll deal with that once we arrest Smith. Let’s just finish this case, then we can look into it."
"I still say it’s one of Buck’s girlfriends getting revenge," JD piped up from the other side of the office.
"If it was so she would reserve here malicious intentions to Mr Wilmington’s person," Ezra pointed out, "There would be little or no point to involving us."
"Besides," Vin said, "Josiah says it’s probably a man judging from the writing."
Chris stared at his team as they tried to figure out the one thing he had just ordered them not to. Some things never change.
That evening a call from the lab confirmed everyone’s suspicions, Smith’s cigarettes contained a lethal amount of nicotine. They would arrest him the next morning.
Thursday
If Smith’s secretary was surprised to see Ezra and Vin alive and well, she did not show it. Smith on the other hand was more than a little surprised. He turned white when Maggie showed them in but managed not to comment."Gentlemen," he squeaked, "No problems with the shipment I hope?"
Ezra gave Smith some his own medicine by giving him a smug smile, "Just a small one," he told him, "The quality is… terminally bad."
Vin stepped forward and held up his badge, "John Smith you are under arrest for murder in the first degree and attempted murder in the first degree. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided for you by the state of Colorado. Do you understand your rights?"
Smith’s mouth fell open and Ezra let his face fall, "Do say yes, I’m sure my colleague would hate to have to repeat all that."
Smith suddenly looked furious, "This is entrapment," he said heatedly.
Ezra brightened up, "Oh yes."
"Come out from behind the desk, sir," Vin suggested resting his hand casually on the gun he had on his hip. Smith hadn’t noticed it before now.
Although he didn’t look happy about it, John Smith allowed himself to be cuffed and escorted by the two ATF agents outside to a waiting squad car. Smith was charged and held pending trial, now all team seven could do was wait for the verdict.
Back at the offices the members of the team were more interested in who was behind the flowers and photos than in the outcome of Smith’s trial.
"Do you think it’s connected to Smith?" JD asked eating noodles out of a Chinese take out box.
"Or with Pearson?" Buck suggested back.
"Or with anyone of our multiple arrests," Chris said.
"Not to boast or anything," Vin added with a grin.
"Mr Larrabee is of course correct. It could be anyone, they needn’t even be previously connected with us," Ezra commented, strangely enough he too was eating Chinese out the box.
"Well there hasn’t been anything more," Nathan said, "Maybe it was a one off."
"Even so," Chris said, "I want to know who’s behind it."
"Did security come up with anything?" Vin asked wiping his mouth of soda drips.
Larrabee shook his head lost in his own thoughts. The team had had stalkers before, but they usually turned out o be lonely middle-aged women. Or old enemies. Previous arrests and such like, but this felt different. This felt more individualistic.
Friday
The next morning security called Chris Larrabee. They had gone all out on this one, knowing team seven’s reputation and had found out who the man from the tape was. The answer was surprising; he’s name was Thomas Anderson and he was a cleaner at the federal building."Like from the Matrix?" was JD’s first question when their leader told them.
Chris hesitated, "I guess," he said, "He’s been working at these offices for just under a month. He’s also not too bright according to security."
"Mentally retarded?" Josiah asked trying to create a profile in his mind.
"No," Chris said bluntly, "Just not too bright. A righteous idiot I suppose."
"What’s his interest in us?" Vin wondered.
"Well let’s go and talk to him and find out shall we," Chris said sardonically.
They found Anderson tipping Jeyes Fluid down the drains in the basement bathrooms. He seemed quite unsurprised to see them, "Hello," was all he said and then waited for them to continue the conversation.
"Thomas Anderson?" Chris asked.
The man nodded demurely and waited again.
"Mr Anderson, would you accompany us upstairs? We have some things we wish to discuss with you," Ezra told him as appose to asked him.
"What things?" Anderson asked quietly.
"How about why you’re sending us flowers and taping photos to our desks?" Chris snapped.
Anderson gave him a carefully blank stare. "I’m sorry, you’ll have to clarify. I don’t know of what you speak," he said in plain tones.
"Mr Anderson, please. Don’t get cute, we have you on tape placing items in our office on Sunday," Buck said plainly, "Now come upstairs with us so we can get this sorted out."
The man looked thoughtful, then he sighed, "Very well."
Once upstairs, considering the man seemed harmless enough, they took him to an empty seminar room to speak. He gave them the same carefully blank yet still polite look he had given them in the basement as they all took a seat.
"Mr Anderson, why did you send us seven roses and tape photos of us under our desks for us to find?" Chris asked getting straight down to business.
"I did not," Anderson said carefully.
"We have you on tape," Buck said in an obvious tone of voice.
For the first time since they found him, Thomas Anderson started to show signs of distress, "I have no recollection of doing that," he told them.
"Are you saying you might have done this, despite not remembering?" Josiah asked frowning at the man’s choice of words.
Anderson nodded.
"Have you done things you don’t recall doing before?" Ezra enquired leaning forward slightly.
The man nodded again. Josiah narrowed his eyes momentarily, "Mr Anderson," he asked carefully, "Do you have multiple personalities?"
Anderson looked around at team seven, "That’s what my doctor says, but I don’t believe him," he said precisely.
Chris gave a laugh, "Even though you have these unexplainable gaps in your memory?" he asked incredulously.
The man shrugged, "I will not have people believe I am insane," he intoned.
"Well, you are!" Buck exclaimed harshly.
What happened next, no one was ready for. Anderson launched himself at Buck, knocking him backwards off his chair. Before the other could react, Anderson had grabbed the gun out of Wilmington’s shoulder holster, did a forward roll and landed on his feet with the gun trained on the seven. Chris, Vin and Ezra had anticipated this and already had their guns out, they immediately aimed at Anderson but he did not back down. He held the gun tight and aimed at each of them sporadically.
"You have no idea do you?" he shouted at them his voice now very different, "And he has no idea either. Don’t you realize how significant you are? Your number is sacred, and your legacy is imperative. Now, before and all that will come to pass depends on you. Depends on the seven."
It was clear the man was no longer Thomas, but who he was the seven had no idea. He was breathing hard and adjusted his grip on the gun repeatedly, indicating his distress.
Josiah took a slow and careful step forward, "Depends on us? What depends on us?" he asked.
"Everything. The future and life," the man sounded frustrated with their inability to understand, "All through the ages there has always been you. You deserve recognition and praise, yet no one gives you the time of day."
"If we are so dear to the future and so highly regarded by you, why are you pointing a gun at us?" Ezra asked dryly.
"I need you to understand, and you seem unable to without assistance," Anderson explained and not to well at that.
The seven exchanged glances, some of them cynical. Josiah took another imperceptible step forward, "So explain it to us," he told the man.
Anderson smiled for the first time since they met, "Certainly," he said, but didn’t lower the gun, "There are thirty two tributes to the number seven in history and mythology. The Seven Deadly Sins, the Seven Heavens, the Seven wonders of the world, the Seven champions, just to name a few. There are also seven days in the week and seven planets, seven virtues. Coincidence? I think not."
Chris glared at the man, "Your point?" he demanded.
"You will join the ranks of these reverences and go down in history. You will be remembered for years to come, don’t you see? You’re heroes without even having to do anything, it is your destiny," the man’s tone of voice was one of subdued awe.
"Okay. And you sent us flowers and photos because…" Buck wanted to know.
"I thought you should know someone appreciates your stature."
"Alright, we understand and it is appreciated," Chris said even though his tone suggested otherwise, "Now put down the gun."
Anderson’s counterpart laughed, "No, I have to kill you now," he told them.
They did a double take. "Excuse us?" Ezra asked.
"You can only join the ranks of the revered when you die," he told them conversationally, "You understand?"
"On a whole I think I’ll stay a lowly ATF agent if it’s all the same to you," Nathan said shaking his head in disbelief.
"You have no choice," Anderson said as if it were clear. He adjusted his grip on the gun yet again and squinted at them. Slowly, he raised his free hand to his face and touched his cheek, "You mustn’t listen to him," he whispered.
"Thomas?" Josiah said carefully taking another step forward. The rest of the seven shuffled behind him peering curiously at the man and his sudden change in demeanour.
Anderson blinked rapidly, "He’s trying to take control again," he said his hand that held Buck’s gun shaking.
"Thomas put down the gun," Ezra said lowering his gun and stepping to stand next to Josiah, "He might be that type of person but you’re not."
Anderson appeared to notice the gun in his hand for the first time, "Oh my," he said weakly and started to lower the weapon. The seven relaxed minutely and Josiah reached out his hand to take the gun. Anderson was on the verge of dropping it into the anthropologist’s hand when his hand suddenly contracted and his fingers clenched around the grip of the gun. He leapt back and stared accusingly at the seven, "It was him wasn’t it?" he hissed pointing the weapon back at them.
Ezra automatically raised his Sig along with Vin and Chris who had never lowered theirs. Josiah took a step back and held up his hands to calm Anderson.
Chris had had just about enough, he came to stand next to the oldest member of the team, "Don’t make me shoot you," he said aiming directly at the mans head, "Put down that gun."
Anderson was a little taken aback by this, then recovered and smiled, "Have you heard nothing I’ve said? Very well, since you are the leader I will grant your wish."
Chris looked at him suspiciously, "You’ll put down the gun?"
Anderson laughed, "No," he said, "I’ll kill you first," he added and pulled the trigger.
Three shots went off, almost simultaneously. All three found their mark some more successfully than others.
Anderson’s gun discharged a bullet into Larrabee’s right lower arm causing him to drop his weapon.
Vin and Ezra’s guns shot Anderson in the chest, each bullet whizzing either side of Chris and Josiah. Their leader seemed more perturbed by this than the bullet in his arm.
"You could have shot us," was the first thing he yelled as Nathan came forward to see if he was okay.
He got generally ignored as the rest of team seven came forward to check if Anderson was dead. Buck picked up his gun from his limp fingers then almost jumped out of his skin when Anderson coughed.
Josiah knelt next to him while JD called Nathan. Anderson opened his eyes and looked up at them with a confused expression on as he tried to understand why they had shot him, "What did I do?" he asked breathlessly.
"Thomas?" the anthropologist queried.
"It was him," Thomas whispered, "You shot him. You shot me."
Before anyone could reply Nathan pressed his way through to help the dying man. Except he wasn’t dying. He was dead.
Nathan shook his head, "He’s gone."
The seven stood back, each thinking the same thing. It was Thomas at the end, not his counterpart and all of them remembered the look on his face as he tried to comprehend what he could have done to deserve death.
It wasn’t long before the seminar room was filled with agents responding to the gunshots. Chris was carted off to the hospital in an ambulance, protesting all the way but Nathan would have none of it. He rode with him to make sure he didn’t try and escape. The remaining seven stayed behind to give their statements.
In all the hustle and bustle Ezra spotted Vin standing a way off, looking dejected. He went and stood by him, not speaking just supporting.
"I feel like I shot an innocent man," Vin said after a while.
Ezra nodded, "Indeed. It’s quite a feeling to shoot one man and yet kill another," he said quietly.
Vin frowned but didn’t concede. Ezra turned to go, then stopped, "I would rather shoot an innocent man, than let that seemingly innocent man kill one of us," he said.
Vin looked up at that. He nodded slowly then smiled, "I guess, that’s one way of looking at it," he said.
Ezra returned the smile, "So," he clapped Vin on the shoulder, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, we have a comrade down. It is our duty to visit him in his place of recuperation and at all possible moments, without sustaining him further harm, torture him about his current dilemma."
Vin laughed, "What? Everything has its upside?"
"That’s the spirit Mr Tanner," Standish said.
THE END
Comments to: Xaneth@webmail.co.za
Seven: A mystic and sacred number, it is comprised
of three and four, which among the Pythagoreans were, and from time immemorial
have been, accounted lucky numbers. Among the Babylonians, Egyptians and
other ancient peoples there were seven sacred planets, and the Hebrew
word to swear means literally "to come under the influence of seven
things". There are seven days in creation, seven days in the
week, seven virtues, seven divisions in the Lord’s Prayer,
seven sages in the life of man, climatic years are seven and
nine with their multiples by odd numbers and the seventh son of a seventh
son was always held notable.
In the Apocalypse we have seven churches of Asia, seven
candlesticks, seven stars, seven trumpets, seven spirits
before the throne of God, seven horns, seven vials,
seven plagues, a seven-headed monster and the Lamb with
seven eyes.
The Seven
Amazing, isn’t it?