The Big Wheel

by Scott Archer Jones

  A honey-haired woman stepped past Zlata and seized Thomas’s hand. He found himself on his knees on the floor, with a high likelihood of his thumb and index finger snapping. With her other hand, she grabbed him by the scruff of hair on top of his head and jerked his chin up and his head back.

  “Sibyl,” shouted Angie, grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t do it. He’s trying to save you, like he tried to save Mirko.”

  ***

  The crowd backed up behind them in the hall. Robko heard, “Make a hole… out of the way, assholes.” Volume and temperature were rising. He didn’t give a shit. Robko watched the two women glare each other down. He wondered—would it escalate to a fight? He spotted the moment the tension broke—there, Sibyl cocked her head, the other woman nodded. With a guttural snarl, Sibyl released the tall man kneeling before her. She wiped the hair gel off her hand onto his shoulder.

  Robko swayed on his feet, both from the scene and from the trank. “Thomas Steward, huh? Get up, you’re blocking the road.” He jammed a hand under Thomas’s armpit and threw him back on his feet. “We’ll want to talk.” He shouldered the man to the right, towards the restrooms.

  Sibyl crowded up behind him. “Jesus, if there was ever a time to run, Robert, this is it!”

  “No. Let’s see what happens. Where did you learn to do that thing with his thumb, anyway?”

  “It’s part of my profession, handling the clientele.”

  “That’s how you treat the clients?”

  The woman behind Sibyl said, “I bet some of them like it.”

  They huddled together, a foursome crowded into a small restroom hallway of a basement club in NYC. “Now this is funny,” said Robko. “How did you find us?”

  Thomas held out his hands palm up. “I’ve been stalking the clubs. We listen to the same music. It’s a small borough.”

  Sibyl said, “Yeah, only about five million people.”

  Robko pointed at Angie. “What did she mean?”

  Thomas shook his head. “Mean what?”

  “That’s what I’m asking.”

  “I didn’t hear—I was distracted.” He nodded towards Sibyl. “She was ripping my hand off.”

  Angie leaned towards Robko. “I said… Thomas plans on saving you.”

  Thomas’s mouth fell open.

  She shot him a pitying glance. “Oh please. It’s the only way to explain how you behaved in Ithaca.”

  Robko stared hard at the two before him, first right, then left, and considered what each one might be thinking. “We need somewhere to sit down, some place where the drunks don’t bump us on the way to the crapper.”

  ***

  They settled on a hotel bar nearby. They agreed they needed time to talk with their partners first. “See you there,” Thomas said.

  Robko nodded. “If she doesn’t talk me out of it. Otherwise, good-bye—it’s been a shocker.”

  Thomas and Angie led off. They stepped down the pavement in the chilled October air. There was an organic smell mixed in with the usual bus fumes and urine tinge of city atmosphere. Thomas thought it might be rotting chestnut leaves.

  She linked her arm through his so she could peep over his shoulder and watch the couple behind.

  He said, “What are they doing?”

  “Fighting. Well, she’s hissing at him.”

  “Hope they get it sorted out before they join us.”

  Angie said, “What do you hope to get out of this?”

  “Frequent flier miles?”

  “Seriously.”

  With a huge grin, he laid out his brilliant idea. “The name of the man who has the Artifact now.”

  “That would be something.”

  Her tone flattened him out. She acted less than impressed by his brilliance. “Of course, Robko has to gain something in return for telling us. A hundred thousand and immunity might be okay with him.”

  “But—can you make that promise?”

  “The question is whether I can keep it. I need LeFarge on a chain, and I need a guarantee from O’Brien.”

  “But LeFarge has his talons into O’Brien.” She clawed the air with her free hand and seized her own throat.

  “Yeah, just like that… and don’t think Dennis Malley O’Brien appreciates it either. He’s wondered how to get rid of LeFarge when all this ends. I could just let nature take its course, and even hurry it up a bit.”

  “But Thomas—” she said.

  He sighed. “You’re full of objections tonight.”

  “You’re the Governor’s go-to guy. He’ll ask you to arrange the killing.”

  “I wonder if I’ve sunk that low.” He dropped his head, shook it, and laughed.

  “You could think of it as self-defense.”

  “Yes, but would I be rationalizing? Better to face it—I would love LeFarge to be killed. I want him dead more than I want to run my own company.” They nodded at the doorman, turned into the hotel, and strolled across the marble and steel space to the lobby bar.

  She peeked over her shoulder again. “They’re coming in now.”

  “I know. I can see them in the reflection.”

  “Getting crafty, are we?”

  “I saw it on TV. I’ve been practicing to see if LeFarge or his goons are following me.” They asked for a four-top table away from the windows and ordered champagne and a tonic-and-lime. Angie made sure it was a good champagne.

  Thomas said, “It’ll be a minute. Since we chose the hotel, he’ll scout the lobby and check for exits. I’ve certainly got time….” He fished a bluebird out of his pocket and threw it to the back of his tongue. He swallowed it dry and grimaced as it stuck in his throat.

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that, not right now. It really pisses me off.”

  ***

  Robko made reasonably certain they could escape if needed—he spotted three bolt-holes. He and Sibyl hesitated in the door and then threaded their way through the bar to the table in the back. Sibyl eased into the chair opposite the Italian-looking woman. Robko pulled the last chair out across from Thomas. He kept his legs out from under the table, kept back where he had room. It reminded Robko of two chess games at the same table. A waiter bustled over, delivered a bucket of champagne, a flute, and a lowball with ice and lime floating in it. He hovered, waiting to hear from Robko and Sibyl.

  Thomas leaned forward on his forearms and clasped his hands together. “It’s occurred to me not everyone has been introduced. I’m Thomas Steward, and this is Angelina Tommo. Angie, let me introduce you to Robko Zlata and Sibyl Boxwood.”

  Robko nodded solemnly, feeling like an owl. He already knew Thomas, had in fact ransacked his possessions. This Angie was new to him.

  Angie waved her hand at the bucket and said to the other woman, “Do you want to share my champ?”

  Sibyl ripped out an evil little grin. “You read my mind.”

  They all turned to Robko. “Thanks, I’ll just have a club soda.” The waiter disappeared. “So, you work for O’Brien.”

  “You already knew that,” said Thomas. “What’s more important—I represent the good-cop side of the conversation. There’s a bad cop who also works for O’Brien.”

  In spite of himself, Robko said, “Captain Egan LeFarge.”

  “You are well informed.”

  “Sometimes.” Did Thomas know his desktab had been downloaded in Ithaca? The blond man hadn’t said anything revealing yet.

  “I believe you used to have something O’Brien prizes highly. It’s a small Lucite box with some white contents. It’s called the Artifact. I’ve already asked you for it once before, through the priest.”

  “You make two assumptions. One, that I once had this Artifact, and two, that I’ve passed it on.”

  Thomas said, “You’re fishing to see what Father Mirko told me. That’s an easy one—your friend was loyal. Logic says the Artifact has moved on.”

  Robko bent his swizzle straw in half, tied it into one knot, a second, and a third. “Well, I admit I don’t have it.”<
br />
  The tall man watched him, solemn, remote. “Progress. Now I’ll give you something in return. Nobody in O’Brien’s organization knows you’re in New York except Angie and me. I can make that part of the deal.”

  “Deal?” asked Sibyl.

  “I’m ready to offer you a lot of money for the current location of the Artifact.”

  Robko sputtered into his club soda. “Maybe you won’t after I tell you.”

  Angie explained, “We surmise you sold the Artifact to someone very powerful. We believe you’re more—cautious—about offending your customer than offending O’Brien.”

  Robko watched Sibyl scratch at the white tablecloth with one carmine-colored nail. They both knew how wrong Angie was. “You make a lot of assumptions, don’t you?”

  The tall, blond man said, “Deductions, more-like. They led us to Chinatown, to Ithaca, and to Atwater Village.”

  Robko and Sibyl shot each other a hooded glance. They hadn’t known about Thomas and California—a dangerous man if he had tracked them that far.

  “So what I can do,” continued Thomas, “is offer you one hundred thousand dollars for the name of the man who bought the Artifact from you.”

  Robko answered, “A hundred flip is pretty lightweight, don’t you think? We do know what the Artifact does. It’s an electronic soul, and we know O’Brien has downloaded himself into it.”

  Sibyl added, “And even if it was more than a hundred, how could we ever spend it? The bad cop wants us dead, not bought off.”

  Thomas barely moved his head in acknowledgement. “Ah. Two objections. I’ll deal with the last one first. LeFarge is blind without Angie and me; he depends on us for intel. Unless you do something stupid, LeFarge won’t be able to find you on his own.”

  “Lovely. We get to stay on the run,” said Sibyl.

  Robko sat still as a stone. He thought, Make the tall man work harder.

  “The Governor could be flexible on price as long as he gets value for dollar.”

  Robko felt his pulse kick up. The tall blond man had missed it. Steward thought it was about the money. Robko said, “Are you O’Brien’s exclusive negotiator?”

  “Yes.”

  Robko caught Angie’s twitch. “Well, that was a no. Maybe you can arrange to be the sole negotiator when you talk to your boss.”

  “But what would I tell him?”

  “You’ve already agreed not to mention we’re here in the City—your opening move. Tell him two more things. We have to have his protection, unconditionally.”

  “That can be arranged if the return on investment is high enough.”

  “The second thing, the deal structures different than you laid out.” Robko watched the blond man incline his head over the table cloth, like a crane.

  Thomas said, “How so?”

  “The first Artifact didn’t get sold—it got destroyed.” Sibyl’s shoe cracked into his shin. “Down the sink, into the river.”

  Angie shook her head. “So you have nothing to bargain with.”

  Buried in an awful silence, the four of them watched each other. The ice in the bucket settled around the champagne, louder than breaking glass.

  The blond man made a laconic flicking motion with his hand. “That changes my plan, but not my objective. I still want to get you and this woman out from under, somehow.”

  That stopped the conversation. Robko hid his surprise by sipping at his club soda. He tried on an attitude of nonchalance. “Why?”

  “No reason you would believe.”

  “You gotta give us a reason to trust you.”

  “Trust me… or face LeFarge. But you have to give me something to work with.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what? Something to work with, or back on the run?”

  “Okay, we can lay out something. While the first Artifact is gone, we have the second and third. We will return one of them to you… for fifteen million dollars. Bearer bonds. I like bearer bonds. No wire transfers you can follow.”

  Thomas rocked back in his chair; his forehead wrinkled up like tree bark. “Second and third?”

  Angie, no negotiator, chuckled. “How did you get them?”

  Sibyl coughed to block her own laugh. “Inside info. Picked them up in Georgia. They’re still there as far as the locals know.”

  Thomas said, “You demanded millions. And you said you’d return one of them. Why not ask double the money and turn over both?”

  Robko tented his fingers. “The third is our insurance policy. If anything happens to us….”

  “So melodramatic,” said Sibyl, “but so true.” She drained her flute.

  Robko said, “If we don’t make the usual vidi call on a regular basis, the third Artifact goes direct to O’Brien’s rivals.”

  “And who would you think that is?” asked Angie.

  “Carstairs in London. Or Thurgall in San Diego. They’d have the resources to develop it.”

  Robko could see a grin teasing the corner of Thomas’s mouth. The tall man said, “Wow. I think you have an opening gambit. Let’s see what our side offers in response. I’ll call the Governor.” He picked a table near the door and faced away from them. Robko focused on his back, trying to read something from the set of the shoulders, the tilt of the head.

  Angie fished the champagne out of the bucket, let the water drip off, and offered Sibyl a refill. “And I thought tonight might be boring. What shall we chat about? Where did you two lovebirds meet?”

  ***

  Thomas videoed O’Brien’s priority number. “Sir, Thomas here. I’ve got some interesting news.” Thomas could see O’Brien on the iMob, dressed in a full tuxedo, leaning over the camera. A gilded ceiling framed O’Brien’s ursine head. Dinner at the mansion?

  “Wait, I’m in a party; let me leave the table.” Thomas heard the rustle of cloth as O’Brien clasped the vidi to his body, then dead air. Finally, “Go ahead.” It appeared O’Brien had locked himself in the toilet—blue, hand-painted tiles flocked with fleur-de-lis framed his squat face.

  “I’m going to voice-only and off speaker. I’m not alone here.” He switched the speaker and screen off and held the device to his ear.

  “What do you have? A new lead on a memdevice?”

  “No, sir, much better. I’m in contact with Robko Zlata.”

  “What! Where is he? Can you lay your hands on him?”

  “No sir. I don’t know where he is—he called me. He blocked Caller I.D.”

  “Damn. Why did he call? Does he want to sell the Artifact?”

  “I only have bad news, I’m afraid, but I do have a way forward. The Artifact was destroyed.”

  “What! He killed my Soul?” O’Brien was barking into the phone.

  “In a manner of speaking. He destroyed a recording of you. There’s more. He has stolen two other Artifacts from your lab in Georgia.” Thomas shoved the iMob tight against his ear. He counted. One. Two. Three.

  O’Brien’s voice sounded level, dry. “You called it bad news. You don’t exaggerate.”

  “We can have one of the Artifacts back…,” he took a breath. “for fifteen million dollars.”

  “And the other? I have to have them all.”

  The crisis point. “He keeps the third as a hostage. If we renege, he turns it over to Thurgall. Or Carstairs.”

  “Goddamn! I’ll have that little son-of-a-bitch’s balls!”

  “Maybe. Most probably not. He has a pretty strong hand, don’t you think?”

  “I need to consider this. I’ll call you back in five minutes.”

  This was bad. O’Brien never considered anything; he made snap judgments. This was a stall.

  Thomas hurried on before O’Brien cut him off. “I know it’s distasteful, but think about it. For a flat fee, you get the Artifact back, and it’s no longer roaming around out there. You get it exclusively; we don’t have to hunt Zlata anymore, and the problem goes away.”

  “He wins and I lose. I told you, I’ll call you back. Stay ready.” O�
��Brien cut the connection. Thomas glanced at the time on the face of his mobile and trudged back to the table. “He said maybe. He’ll call back. So what have you kids been talking about?”

  “Italian shoes,” said Sibyl.

  Robko gave a twisted grin. “We’ve been dancing around whether or not to trust you.”

  “Hmm. I have the same question about you, you know.” Thomas stared at him.

  Robko said, “I’m an open book. I steal things and sell them; then I live off the money. I’m a trustworthy thief with a heart of gold.”

  This guy was more and more interesting. “And how do you see us?”

  “You steal things too, only legally. Steal big enough, and it’s called a takeover.”

  Thomas laughed. “You have a pretty good idea about it—we do steal companies.” He tapped the tablecloth. “We’ll all have to give it some thought, about this trust thing.”

  “Right. You could be my inside man, or you could be leading me into a trap.”

  “And you could ditch me halfway through the deal, and O’Brien would probably have me killed.”

  “It has occurred to me we could take our business elsewhere.” Robko gazed across the room, his face as smooth as glass, his eyes opaque.

  “But that leaves your issues with O’Brien unresolved.” Thomas’s phone rang. “Excuse me. I should take this call, don’t you think?” He tapped on the screen, held the phone up to his ear. “Yes?” He strolled away from the table, towards the bar.

  “O’Brien here. Are you sure he’ll make the deal?”

  “No guarantees. Definite risk. LeFarge killed his best friend, and we’ve hounded him across America. We’ve pretty much ruined his life. The reason he’d take the deal is first, he gets rich and second, you’re off his back.”

  “Hmm. You’re trying to convince me to buy my own Artifact back.”