Story:Conspiracy of Meerkats Part Three

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Conspiracy of Meerkats Part Three
Written by JWolfman


Trent Westerlyn’s eyes gazed on the Baltimore skyline across the body of water from his third-floor balcony of the mansion he resided in. The raven’s coal black feathers fluttered gently amid the night breeze, and he didn’t want this night to end.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” His wife spoke as she walked into the balcony and softly embraced the raven from behind, her bright red cardinal’s feathers contrasting with Trent’s coal-black raven feathers.

“I’ve lived in this city my whole life,” Trent replied. “It never ceases to amaze me.”

“Why do you have an arena in Rhode Island then?” She asked with a chuckle. Trent shifted from the embrace just enough to turn around and face her, and then poked her beak teasingly with his own.

“It’s owned by my brother and the city of Providence, actually… my name’s on the arena title only because I paid for the name rights. It’s far too small for a professional sports team anyway.”

“Mmm,” his wife replied softly and her beak nuzzled against the side of his neck. “Come to bed, hon.”

“I will in a sec,” Trent said and his wife nodded silently, parting ways to walk back into the bedroom. Trent watched her leave and then turned to look back on the Atlantic waters, watching the moon light reflect off them.

He blinked in surprise as the phone in his shirt pocket vibrated and he frowned as he looked at the Caller ID before answering the call. “What are you doing calling so late, Daniel?” He paused as he listened to the caller, and the longer he listened, the more his talon holding the phone shook. Finally one of his claws punctured the glass of his phone screen due to squeezing the phone too hard and he threw it onto the balcony floor hard. “Goddamnit!” He walked across the bedroom, ignoring his wife’s worried pleas and grabbed his car keys along the way. His long-term plans, already months in progress, suddenly stumbled thanks to a female feline journalist sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.


Nasser Khaldi was a meerkat of habit. Wake up at 5 AM, sleep by 10 PM. It was a constant routine for years, and not even marriage and raising his daughter Lina changed it by any dramatic amount. Disrupt this routine, and he often became irritable and easily tired, his temper suddenly hanging by a single thread. So when he woke up close to midnight by a series of honking noises, he sat up with his paw nearly-automatically reaching for the pistol inside the drawer of his night-stand. “What the hell is going on?” He muttered in Farsi, annoyed and confused once he peeked through the bedroom window and realizing it was coming from a car parked on his own driveway. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the car again more clearly, and once he recognized the car, he uttered a curse word and shoved his gun back into the drawer.

As soon as he opened his house’s front door, Trent Westerlyn walked inside still dressed in his silky sleeping clothes. Nasser sighed loudly and closed the door, sensing the stress coming from the raven.

“Something bad happened?” He asked softly.

Trent’s eyes glared back at him. “It’s midnight and here I am in pajamas. What do you think happened?” He said with a sarcastic grunt, but he spoke again before Nasser could reply. “You know Tashira Rucson?”

Nasser blinked his eyes and he scratched his head idly. “The girl that posted the letter about Samuel Windance online? What about her?”

“She’s been sticking her nose in places she shouldn’t be in, and dug up the criminal past about my family. She studied about that fucking lawsuit about the auction, and wrote me as this horrible bad guy that should never be in the FBA in the first place. And now she’s getting support from other nosy journalists!”

The old meerkat massaged his forehead with a sigh and then pinched his own muzzle with his eyes closed. “Okay so a journalist wrote bad things about you. Big deal.”

“It’ll become a big deal soon enough if this keeps going and we let it fester!”

“Just play the denial game, Mr. Westerlyn. You’ve gotten away with a lot of things before, why not with this one?”

“Bribing court judges and detectives are one thing, but journalists, especially those like this Rucson girl, are a different breed altogether. Especially when she’s already getting help from other journalists. If I get too many noses snooping around, they’re gonna catch a scent and the both of us will be ruined.”

Nasser raised an eyebrow, wondering how Trent factored in this ‘both of us’ thing. He kept silent on that matter however and simply shook his head. Thoughts of crawling back to bed already crept back into his mind.

“I’ve just bought a FBA team,” Trent continued on. “I’m closer to where I need to be, Nasser.”

“Yeah yeah, you want to be the FBA Commissioner, I know,” Nasser replied with a hint of annoyance. “Just deny everything…” He then sighed. “I’ll take care of Rucson.”

“You better. Because if I’m going down because of this, I’ll drag you down with me,” Trent said with a slight ruffle of raven feathers, and then turned to leave the house. Nasser simply watched him leave, and then frowned. Once Trent left the house, the meerkat muttered as he reached for his phone.

“Like hell you will, Trent…” He murmured to himself. Time for more phone calls.


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