by A. J. Markam
Jen looked at me in terror. “Jimmy, you can’t do that part of the plan.”
“I have to – it’s the only way it’ll work,” I argued. “They’re not going to let me in unless I can get a referral – and there’s no time to get a referral, because the FBI’s turning the case over to somebody else – right?”
Arkova nodded reluctantly. “True. But – ”
“And we can’t fake one, especially not on short notice, because there’s a good chance they’ll figure it out. But I’m already a criminal in real life. I can give them a list of 20 names they can double-check in LA and find out exactly who I am. They’ll see I’ve done time. My real-life résumé matches perfectly with the kind of person they’d let in. So I have to do it if we want to pull this off.” I looked at Arkova. “It’s why you recruited me in the first place.”
“We went after you because of your skills and background.”
“Well, my rap sheet and my contacts are part of that, and I have to use them if this is going to work.”
She considered, then nodded grimly. “If you’re willing to take the risk…”
“Which means that I need you to go get my family and put them somewhere safe.”
She looked uneasy but didn’t say anything.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s just there’s a protocol for all of this – forms to fill out, red tape – ”
“Screw the red tape,” I barked. “Just get them out of town. Put them in a hotel or something in the middle of nowhere – I don’t care, just make sure they’re safe. Don’t even have the FBI do it – you do it. You swore to me on your mother’s grave you’d make sure they were okay.”
“That was supposed to be if…”
She trailed off when she saw the anger in my eyes.
Basically I was thinking, Don’t you DARE try to weasel out of this.
She nodded reluctantly. “…all right. I’ll handle it.”
“You’ll do it today?”
“I’ll go get them as soon as I’m out of the game.”
I could feel my entire body relax as soon as she said it. “Thank you. As long as they’re safe, I know I can do this.”
“What should I tell them? I can’t tell them the truth.”
“Tell them I pissed off some mobsters in Vegas and now the bad guys are coming after THEM.”
“They’ll believe that?”
“Anything where I look like the worst screw-up imaginable, they’ll believe it.”
59
Wednesday Morning
Shadow Bank
The elf’s office was pretty impressive, with hundreds of leather-bound books on the shelves lining the walls, with ornate clocks and statues and ancient weapons scattered all around. Everywhere you looked there was dark wood and plush leather.
I’d seen it all before, so it was very familiar. It had just been covered in silver sheen last time I saw it, that’s all.
The elf sat across me from on the other side of a huge desk. We sat in silence, and he stared at me without any expression at all.
Suddenly, he put his finger to his ear and said, “Go ahead.”
Apparently he had some sort of magical earpiece that allowed him to talk to people back in the real world. Researchers? Hackers? Some guy looking at Google? All I knew for sure is that they were checking out the information I’d given the elf thirty minutes before.
“I see. Yes – alright.” The elf turned his attention to me. “What prisons were you in?”
“Juvie the first time, LA County the second.”
“And that was for…?”
“The first was for grand theft auto, the second was safecracking. The actual charges were burglary and breaking and entering. One year in juvie, six in LA County.”
The elf said “Keep me apprised” to the invisible person on the end of the line, then clicked off his earpiece and looked straight at me. “Three of the ten names you gave me checked out so far. They all vouched for you. We’re still looking into the other seven, but I think we can proceed based on your current standing.”
The names I’d given him had all been guys I’d worked with back in the day. By ‘worked with,’ I mean pulling heists and burglaries. There were even a couple of small-time crime bosses and two fences. Basically a ‘Who’s Who’ of mid-level grifters and criminals in Southern California.
“All right,” the elf said, “let’s see what you have.”
I got up, opened the leather satchel, and poured out the contents on the table. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires spilled everywhere.
“And where did this come from?”
“Do you ask all your clients that?”
“Only the ones I don’t trust yet,” he said as he stared me right in the eye.
“This is what the cops didn’t recover when I got busted the second time.”
“Funny… the names you gave me suggested small-time operators.” He looked down at the jewels on his desk. “I wouldn’t have thought you would have amassed this much so quickly.”
Shit. This guy knew his criminal underworld.
“The guys I gave you know about all the heists I pulled with them. But they don’t know about the things I did on my own,” I said breezily.
“An entrepreneur,” the elf said.
“I like that. Yes. An entrepreneur.”
“So why is it in game-world jewels and not real-world money?”
“I bought it all with cash. I heard it was untraceable here, which is why I want to deposit it with you. Keep it safe.”
“So all this is from your safecracking endeavors?”
“Yes.”
The elf looked at the pile and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Some might say we would be foolish to rent a room out to a burglar and safe cracker.”
“What, the rest of your clients are altar boys? I’m sure a few of them have killed people. Are you worried they’re going to kill you, too?”
The elf narrowed his eyes. “We consider it to be in bad taste to bring up the business practices of our other customers.”
“So you’re doing it with me just because I’m not customer a yet, is that it?”
“No offense was meant,” the elf said coolly. “I was merely stating the obvious.”
“Well then, let me state the obvious. I know just enough about you and your associates to know who I’m dealing with.” I smiled. “I’m smart enough to know not to cross you.”
No I’m not.
I continued, “But I have a few questions for you before I open an account.”
The elf raised one eyebrow as though to say, Oh really?
“I have… a little bit of a problem with some of your other clients. Personal beefs, professional rivalries, that sort of thing. Is that going to be a problem?”
The elf’s attitude suddenly shifted. Now that I was playing hard to get, he started going on the offensive. I guess he didn’t want to lose his 7% of 4.9 million in gold.
“No it won’t. The bank is strictly a neutral zone. No members are allowed to threaten or in any way interfere with the affairs of other clients while on bank property. They may try to settle matters with you outside the walls of the bank… but there’s nothing we can do about that,” the elf smiled, like me getting murdered by the Russian mob would just be an amusing story to tell over cocktails. Ha ha, how droll.
“I see,” I said. “But I have to be sure – you don’t ever reveal the identities of your clients to other clients, do you? To richer, more powerful, better-paying clients?”
The elf gave me a look of haughty offense. “Most absolutely not. Discretion, professionalism, and anonymity are the hallmarks of what you can expect when dealing with us.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
60
Monday Morning
Morningstar Inn
“The problem is,” I told the group, “I’m going to have to smuggle some things into the bank for this to work.
Arkov
a shook her head. “They’re going to search the bag inside and out. And they’ll search you. They’re going to ask to see your entire inventory in your personal bags – and you’ll have to give them access.”
“We need to figure this out, then. There’s no possible way to smuggle something into the bank?”
“Maybe up your ass,” Slothfart suggested helpfully.
Everybody just looked at him.
“Alright – I know it sounds like I’m obsessed with ass – ”
“That’s what he said,” Richard muttered under his breath.
Russell snickered; even Slothfart grinned.
Arkova did not.
“ – but when you have some Russian dudes threatening to stick a sword up your heinie hole, it kinda tends to stick with you.”
“What, the sword tends to stick with you?” Russell asked mischievously.
“I think it would be ‘the sword tends to stick in you,’” Richard corrected Russell, then turned to Slothfart. “Plus, ‘dumbass’ was a particularly poor choice of words given the context.”
Arkova looked over at me. “You’re the one who’s been in prison. I know you’re very aware of how things get smuggled in.”
“The ass,” Slothfart interjected.
“I would rather that be our last resort,” I said sarcastically, since it wasn’t going to be a resort at all. I pointed at the leather satchel. “Is there any way we can sew something into the lining of this bag?”
Arkova looked thoughtful. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea…”
61
Monday Afternoon
Leatherworking Shop
In a leatherworking shop in the Trade Quarter, Arkova and I stood across the counter from a blonde female dwarf. Fresh-faced, apple-cheeked, and built like a miniature linebacker, she sat atop a very tall chair so she could look us in the eyes.
She was an innocent-looking front for what was basically a criminal enterprise – Smugglers ‘R Us.
“We need to move some things without being detected,” Arkova said. “Is there any way you can sew a typical ten-slot bag into the lining of this one?”
“Of course,” the dwarf said as she inspected the satchel. “I’ll just have to remove a little bit in the lining to make it match the overall size and bulk. I’m assuming that if you’re smuggling, no magical enchantments are allowed?”
“No. Nothing besides needle, thread, and the bag itself.”
“And is this going to be scanned magically?”
“Yes. So we can’t afford to have anything show up.”
The dwarf nodded. “I can do that, as long as nothing magical is placed inside the bag you want sewn into the lining.”
Arkova looked at me. “That’ll work, right?”
“I think so.”
Arkova muttered, “Let’s hope so.”
62
Wednesday Morning
Shadow Bank
I stood beside the elf as a Mage clad all in black waved his hand over the leather satchel and all the items on the table’s surface.
“Strictly routine with new clients,” the elf assured me. “We have to make sure that you aren’t bringing in anything… untoward.”
“I understand. I’m glad,” I lied. “It makes me feel safer.”
My guts coiled in fear as the mage waved his hand over the leather bag itself, and sparkles of light fell over the satchel like pixie dust.
His hand paused, and I immediately thought that everything about the plan was about to come crashing down all around me –
“It’s clean,” the mage said, withdrawing his hand. “Just regular enchantments on the larger objects – stamina, strength, intelligence, nothing unusual.”
“Good,” the elf said. “And his armor and person are clean?”
“First thing I checked when I walked in the room. He’s fine.”
That was interesting. I hadn’t even known or felt anything.
I sort of felt violated. Like… magically violated.
Now I knew how people felt when somebody pickpocketed them.
“Excellent,” the elf said. “Now for the last step – if you would please turn out your personal bags and show us your belongings.”
I did as he asked. There was a menu option where you could expose the contents of your bag to another person for a potential trade. I sent the elf and the Mage a message offering the trade. Both accepted and got a full look at the contents of my bags: a few hundred pieces of gold, a couple of outdated knives, and old pieces of armor – and that was it.
I had left my lockboxes and picks back in the inn. No need to arouse suspicions.
“Nothing unusual,” the Mage said.
“Thank you. Dismissed,” the elf said.
The Mage strode out of the room and closed the door behind him.
“Everything looks fine,” the elf said, and pushed a pile of parchment papers across the desk. “These all need your signature and information. As I said before, there is a 7% fee for all accounts less than 5 million gold. Would you prefer to pay it now?”
“Go ahead,” I said, gesturing to the pile of jewels. “How are you going to calculate everything?”
“I have a special subset of powers for financial matters,” the elf said, and made a few hand gestures over the pile of gems. Swirling trails of green followed his fingers through the air. “I’m able to ascertain relative worth of objects, and also count vast numbers of coins automatically. Then software we’ve written to interact with the game allows me to compare your inventory against the currency indices on the New York Stock Exchange.”
I watched as he paused for a second and stared out into the distance like he was reading something far away.
“The current value of your jewels is $4,878,315. Seven percent is $341,482,” he said, then picked up five large jewels and a couple of small ones. “The worth of these jewels, according to our calculations, is approximately $341,000. We’ll forgo the $482. Are you fine with my taking these as the bank’s fee?”
“Sure,” I said as I continued to sign the papers. “Gotta have trust. What’s a good working relationship without trust?”
Said the spider to the fly.
“Excellent,” the elf said as he checked the signed papers, then swept them into a drawer. “All right, I will take you to your room now.”
We walked out of his office, through the lobby, down the first floor, past the Russian gangsters’ rooms, past multiple guards –
We were headed, I noticed with a certain amount of trepidation, for the stairs at the end of the hallway.
“I would like a room on the ground floor,” I said.
The elf stopped and looked back at me suspiciously. “Why?”
“Superstition. Both times I got caught, the safe was on the second story.”
That was bullshit. The job the FBI popped me for had been on the second story, but the other two had been on the ground floors.
I had prepared the superstition excuse far in advance. If he gave me a room on the second floor, it was going to royally screw with my plans.
The elf frowned. “I don’t know that your superstition warrants a completely new room assignment.”
“If you know anything about criminals, you know we all have superstitions. Some guys always wear the same underwear on jobs. Some don’t ever change up their tools. Others, I’m sure, use a particular brand of gun and nothing else. I would hope that you can accommodate my little eccentricities.”
I actually got that word – eccentricities – from Richard. He helped me craft the argument.
The elf shrugged, then kept on going past the stairs towards the very end of the hall.
“The only thing we have suitable on the first floor for someone of your… ‘account level’ is rather small, I’m afraid.”
“Perfect,” I said, and almost started salivating.
He stopped at the very last door on the left side of the hallway – the ‘murder room.’
In Vegas, you don’t want t
o stay in the door right next to the stairwell. If somebody tries to kill you, you have a 50% lower chance that someone will hear you. That’s because a regular room has two neighbors: one to the left, and one to the right. The murder room has only one neighbor and the stairwell. The chances that somebody’s going to be passing by in the stairwell while you’re getting whacked is next to nothing.
If you think I know about the ‘murder room’ because I’m a criminal and I know shit like that, forget about it. I saw it on a rerun of CSI.
Maybe if I’d watched that show more, I’d have never gotten caught.
Anyway, the elf unlocked the last door on the left, which was perfect. It was the farthest away from the lobby, and no guards were going to be accidentally walking past it.
“I suppose I can provide you with this one,” he said. “Although there’s no reason to worry, some of our clients prefer the more centrally located rooms. However, I can assure you, no one will be able to break through these walls – the building was created with fortified steel plates within the stone, not to mention multiple layers of magical protection.”
“No problem. I’m not worried about the walls.”
Which was the truth.
The elf swung the door open to reveal a set-up like the other rooms I’d seen: crystal lights on the wall, a table with raised edges, a single chair – but in this room there was only one small safe, with a key already sitting in its lock.
“Extra safes are 20,000 gold per month, with a minimum rental period of one year. That,” he said, gesturing to the key inside the safe, “is yours. Standard magical protection – no one under a Level 500 Safecracker has a chance of opening it without that key.”