"I didn't say I was nobody..."
"I mean, you've gotta be related to something. Some agency or something. Jameson even knew you! I don't buy this concerned citizen bit. Hell, when we were hired, we were specifically told to watch out for you. They didn't say Jameson, they didn't call out NAPD, they just said you, Funny Guy. Why's that?"
"Oh, this seems like the good stuff!" said Dane. "Who hired you? And what did they say about me? Was it Honnenheim? Romanov?" He paused, before reluctantly suggesting, "Armitage?"
Rick shook his head with a smile. "I've never heard of any of those dudes."
"Armitage is actually a woman," said Dane.
"Wasn't her either," said Rick.
"Then who?"
"Client-patron privilege."
"Cl - who? I don't know that name," said Dane.
"Client-patron privilege," repeated Rick. "It's not a who, it's a what. I'm saying that because I was paid for a job, the name of the person who hired me is my secret to keep."
"But, you're a criminal!" said Dane, then back peddled. "I mean, if you don't mind me saying, no offense."
"None taken."
"So privilege is really kind of.. well, crap, right?"
Rick smiled his lopsided grin. "You're right. I just don't want to tell you. If I recall, it was me who wanted information and it was you who was tied to a chair."
"But if I knew who it was, I could tell you why they don't like me!"
Rick grinned again. "I'm beginning to understand why there are - hell, why there are lots of folks who don't like you. You talk too much, ask too many questions. You don't understand your place, you don't get when you're beaten. And probably the nosing around where you ain't welcome is a big part of that."
"But that's all done for a good cause!" argued Dane.
"Because you're the good guy?" suggested Rick.
"Exactly!" said Dane.
"It's always seemed to me that lots of bad stuff has always been done by folks who like to say they're the good guys," said Rick, rubbing his chin. "The way I see it, if folks were just honest about getting their own piece of things, the world would be a better place."
"Not for everyone," said Dane. "People are greedy. They make sure that there's not enough to go around. That's not really a better place."
"True, somebody's gotta lose out," said Rick. "Ain't gonna be me though."
"So you're arguing that instead of trying to help everyone and dealing with failures in pursuit of that ideal, everyone should just be selfish and what? The world will sort itself out?"
"Winners and losers," said Rick. "You've been around. That's how the world is. That's how it's always been, and it's worked for centuries. Winners and losers."
"But that misses so much! That's just an excuse to be selfish! That thinking only makes sense because of so many other selfish people! If more people acted differently, it wouldn't be that way!"
"And who's going to start? I'm selfish, remember? I don't care for your ideals and I don't care about changing the world except when it benefits me. But you folks trying to change stuff - especially on a grand scale - you all are the dangerous ones." Rick shook his head dismissively. "You've got us off topic - something you seem to be good at. This still doesn't tell me why you're important. You people with your lofty ideals and noses in everyone else's business are a dime a dozen. Why you, Funny Guy? Why warn us about you?"
"Because I get results?" suggested Dane.
"From where I'm sitting, you're not really doing well on that side of things," said Rick. He shook his head. "I don't get it. You seem like a harmless nobody. I don't know why they bothered." He stood up and put his chair by the wall. He turned toward the exit.
"Where are you going?" asked Dane.
Rick turned his head and smirked. "Out. You can just stay here until we're done with you. Y'know, if you've got nothing better to do."
Dane looked down at the ropes that still held him and frowned. "No, I think I'll hang around."
Outside, Rick turned to Geddy. "Arrange a call with the guy."
"Which guy?"
"The buyer. Mr... I don't know, 'Darling'. He says that enough. Kinda creeps me out. If he's got a real name, only Scar knows it."
"But isn't that the point? Isn't this Scar's deal?"
Rick sighed. "It was." When he saw Geddy's frown, he continued. "I have as much respect for Scar as any of us. But he's spending too much time away. It's getting in the way of business."
"I don't blame him for trying to get his son back," said Geddy.
"You make it sound like Thorn's been kidnapped, but he wasn't. He's what, twenty-three? The kid is old enough to make his own decisions. If the old man pissed off his son enough that he'd run, that's his problem. It's a family matter. But it ain't a Rebels matter."
"But aren't we Rebels supposed to look out for each other?" said Geddy. "We are family! When we left Ravenfall, we swore -"
"Don't talk to me about Ravenfall," said Rick. "We're all glad to be gone, but how much is that camaraderie worth? If dead weight is dragging us down, how long do we need to keep carrying it? The Howling Rebels ain't a place for losers."
"Scar is our leader, he's not dead weight," said Geddy.
"He's getting there!" said Rick. "We've had the damn item for how long and he still hasn't delivered it to the buyer? Then we got folks snooping around! And now federal agents! So what, Scar doesn't want anyone else to do it so he can make nice with his son? He's getting in the way of our business! There's money to be made, and sitting around here is making us nothing!"
Geddy frowned and looked Rick over. Scar was their leader, no one disputed that, especially not after Skorzeny took off with his faction. But Rick was Scar's defacto lieutenant, a right hand man. That used to be Skorzeny or Thorn's role, but in that absence, Rick stepped up, ambitious and hungry. Rick had been doing well enough at it, but Geddy wondered if this was a step too far. This felt like a bad decision. "It was Scar's deal," reminded Geddy again.
"It was our deal," said Rick. "Get the buyer on the phone. I'm going to see if we can sweeten this deal. I want more."
"I don't like this," said Geddy.
"It doesn't matter what you like," said Rick. "Get him on the line before I get angry!"
The Call
When the call came, Linda was just pulling a tray of cookies out of her oven. She wasn't expecting any company today, but her mother had always taught her to always be prepared. Someone might show up. And if not, she could cover the cookies in plastic, attach bows, and give them to her peers at Avalon U. She tried to keep her ingrained homemaker persona away from her work, where she was known as the preeminent Avalon history professor and strict grader of papers, but surely an extra plate of cookies would not harm her reputation too much. She could say they were store bought if questioned.
After the cookies she had papers to grade. The life of a professor meant work was never done, particularly as they were nearing the end of the semester. She needed to get her red pen out and let the students know their errors so that they knew the right questions to ask in review sessions. Finals were not that far away.
But then the phone rang. She hardly ever got calls, but when she did they were during the week. Weekday calls were job related. On the weekends, the only calls she got were related to Dane's strangeness. Before she even picked up the phone she knew it was important. The papers would have to wait.
When the call came, Alastair was referencing a tome of forgotten lore in his loft. On the desk in front of him was the new artifact, some persistent pieces of packing material still sticking to it. He needed to confirm its authenticity before attempting to use it in any magical workings. He had looked for it too long to be duped by a fake or substandard version. But assuming it was truly what he had been sold, he was one step closer to his goal. A little farther on the long road to the thing he must do. Patience, patience.
He still had to procure some key items before preparing the ritual and finally performing it. And i
f he finally did... well, there would be consequences. He did not delude himself with rationalizations. He knew why he needed to do it, he knew why it was so important, but no one else would listen. They would only cast recriminations, say he had meddled too much and too far, that he had tried to do things that men were not meant to do. His friends - if he truly had any - would turn on him. There was a chance they might not, that in some strange way they would understand, but that was unlikely. He had to prepare for them to be against him, to try to stop him. And because of that, he must keep what he was doing from them as long as he could.
But first he needed to authenticate this new artifact. It had to be real, it had to be true. So when the phone started ringing, he cursed at the caller and the luck that dared to thwart him. Of course the artifact could wait - his home was secure and there was no time frame for what he needed to do. But he didn't want to wait, he didn't want to keep delaying. As the phone continued to ring, he knew that it was likely Dane, and that he should answer. The longer he allied with them, the less they would suspect, and he needed that privacy. The artifact would have to wait.
When the call came, Douglas was on the toilet. He was playing Tetris on his phone. So there really wasn't any reason not to answer, other than the fact that some people didn't like to talk to someone using the toilet. He knew he needed to answer - not for any great reason or foreboding feeling, instead because he knew it was polite to answer your phone when people who called; he wasn't one of those dicks who let every call go to voice mail so he could screen the calls. Answering was important. Tetris would have to wait.
When the call came, Jaya was in her garage. Much of it was still in disarray, most of the destroyed machines simply cleaned into piles. Normally she would be focusing on cleaning up, keeping her work area organized. But she had been attacked in her own home. The garage was more her home than her living quarters above it. She had been wounded, and there was little that she could do to fight back. That wasn't going to happen again.
She looked up at the massive bulk she was working on. Since she had more than a few broken machines to cannibalize, she had an abundance of parts to use. This plethora of components had increased the speed at which she worked, and her project was nearing completion. As she admired her work and catalogued the remaining tasks, she nodded to herself - just a little farther and she'd turn that helplessness during the attack into something better.
When the phone rang, she was first annoyed at the distraction. But then as she took a quick look over at her computer screen where it had a tracking program, she realized this wasn't a distraction, it was an opportunity. The details of the call she wasn't sure of, but she guessed the general gist of it. It was a chance to even the tally, to act in the name of vengeance and justice. Revenge wouldn't have to wait.
Negotiations
Through a complicated dead drop procedure, Rebels members let their mysterious buyer know that communication was needed. Geddy wondered why they couldn't just deliver the item, the strange sphere, through the dead drop but Rick reminded him that they needed assurances they'd get paid. If they just dropped the item, the buyer could just disappear. None had ever met the buyer, not even Scar. He communicated via obscure messages and through video conference.
Through an email from a disposable account, Geddy was given a time for the video conference. He had members of the group get the computer and camera ready for the call.
At the appointed time, they received a call across the internet. Geddy, at the controls, accepted the conference, while Rick stood in the center of the room, the camera directly on him. The video screen flashed to life. Their buyer was exactly the same as Rick had seen him when Scar had updated the buyer about the deal - same clothes, same haircut. After that first call, Rick had suggested to Scar their buyer was someone out of an old television show like Dragnet. He wore a sandy-colored suit, a similarly colored vest, tie, and white dress shirt. His hair was clean cut, and the man wore a fedora - completely unironically. He had sharp features over which was stretched unblemished skin, more on the pale side, but hardly ghostly or goth. The man sat in a chair at a desk.
There was a moment of confusion as the buyer stared at his own screen. "Where's Scar?"
"Scar's busy, I'm taking over for him," said Rick.
"I appreciate your initiative, darlin'," said the buyer, "but I really don't have any interest in workin' with anyone but Scar."
"Don't call me darling," said Rick, visibly annoyed.
"Huh?"
"I'm a guy, don't call me darling!"
"Just because you find my manner too casual, darlin', I think -"
"Don't call me darling!" spat Rick.
The buyer paused. "Are you sure Scar isn't available?"
"You're dealing with me, 'darling'," said Rick. "And we're going to make a deal."
"Really?" said the buyer, unimpressed. "And why shouldn't I just hang up?"
Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out the Sphere. Even in this low lighting the Avalon Brass shimmered slightly. There was a faint rumble in the distance, but it was ignored as all assumed it was a train or a loud boat.
"What? I'm supposed to be impressed?" said the buyer. "That's what I hired you all to retrieve. It's the entirety of our business deal. You still haven't impressed upon me why I shouldn't hang up and wait for Scar to call about deliverin' that once he's kicked your sorry keyster, darlin'."
"You see, I had that very same thought," said Rick, wincing, but ignoring the further use of 'darlin'. "But if I get a better deal, he might not be so quick to anger."
"I don't have any interest in makin' another deal, I already have a deal."
Rick made a mock serious face. "That is true, you do have one. But this item is one of a kind. So I was thinking, if I toss it in the river, it doesn't matter what you do, it's gone."
The buyer frowned but just shrugged. "That's your solution? Hold it hostage and threaten to get rid of it entirely to get more money? Darlin', you're makin' sure that I never work with your crew again. And that the end of our dealings will be with extreme prejudice."
Rick smiled. "It's funny that you mentioned 'hostage'. See, when I worried you might react poorly, I thought there was something you might find worse than getting rid of it. It's also key to making a better deal - a better deal for both of us."
Rick stepped back, revealing what he had been blocking from the camera with his body. Behind him was the tied up form of Dane Monday. There was no bag on his head, so there was no doubt to his identity. Dane stared at the buyer and the buyer stared at him. Dane examined the man in the sandy colored suit, looking over the lines of his face. He stared deeply into those eyes. Via the video conference, the eyes looked intelligent but dead. Dane looked over that face, searching, probing the face of the true villain of all of this, the one who must be pulling all the strings. But then in dismay he admitted the truth.
Dane had no idea who this man was. He had never seen him before.
"Hello, I'm Dane Monday, who are you?"
"What in Sam Hill is he doing here?" said the buyer, agitated.
"He's the new element that we needed to renegotiate about," said Rick with a smile.
"Is your name Sam Hill?" said Dane.
"You shut up," said Rick to Dane.
The buyer shook his head. "I have no idea what's with young people these days. I make a deal, fair trade for fair price, and it gets agreed on. I put one supposition to the whole damn thing: keep it away from that guy. And here you're callin' me to show that you're holding the item right in front of that guy."
"I thought I'd sweeten the deal," said Rick. "Now we can deliver you the item and the guy. It'll cost more, but you get both!"
"I have a name, y'know!" said Dane. "And I'll gladly pay money for the item... and for my release! Just so you know."
"Shut up," said Rick.
The buyer shook his head again. "Darlin', you're no Scar. If you don't mind me sayin' so, you're a screw up in too tight a pair of pants.
I'm not dealin' with you. You just take what you have and take a long walk off a short pier. Scar's free to call me and beg forgiveness, but I give no promises I'll actually answer."
Before Rick could respond, there was a louder rumbling. The source wasn't obvious, but they could all feel it in the slight shake of the rundown warehouse. Even the buyer on the other side of the video conference was aware of it.
"Of course," said the buyer, "it seems like things are going to sort themselves out." His side of the call disconnected.
There was silence in the warehouse as Rick gnashed his teeth in anger.
"That could have gone better," said Geddy.
"You think?" shouted Rick at Geddy in the office chair, grabbing him by the shoulders. "You think that could have gone goddamn better?" He pushed Geddy and the chair away from him. Then Rick swiped the keyboard off the desk, it clattering to the floor.
"Anger is never the answer," said Dane.
"Oh right, the guy tied to the chair is the one telling me that anger isn't the goddamn answer!" He kicked over the chair Dane was tied to. Dane was unharmed, but he now had a great view of the ceiling.
"Well, it's not," said Dane, but his voice was quieter.
"I need to think," said Rick, pacing rapidly, running his hand through his hair. His words came quick. "There's gotta be some way to salvage this. All isn't lost. It's just a setback."
"We should call Scar," said Geddy.
"Shut up!" said Rick. "We'll just find another buyer. Someone else will want this. It's special. If he wanted it, someone else will want it. We just need to change buyers. No problem, it's all fixed."
"I am quite willing to buy it from you," said Dane from the floor.
Burning Monday: (Dane Monday 2) Page 18