by Matt Forbeck
“Never came back to the hotel last night,” Parker said. She was on her way into the hall too, although from the rear entrance, nearer the harbor.
Nate didn’t want anyone to see him and Sophie with the rest of the crew, especially not accidentally. As far as Patronus or anyone else in San Diego knew, Sophie was a literary agent and he was her lawyer. Hardison and Parker were Warren Ellis’s handlers, and as long as Eliot wasn’t dressed up as Warren Ellis, he was nobody yet.
That was always the trick with these jobs. It was hard to be able to play more than one role in them. Once the mark knew you as one person, you couldn’t just show up someplace else and introduce yourself with a new name. Well, Nate had seen Sophie play identical twins who were never in the same place at once, but most people couldn’t pull that off.
“You say he ditched you at his Star Trek party?” Eliot said. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
Eliot had found a better place to sleep than the crew’s hotel room in the Horton Grand once again. He was walking into the building through a set of doors about a hundred yards south of Nate and Sophie. He’d shadow them from a wide distance, making sure no one connected him. In many ways, he was Nate’s ace in the hole. If something went wrong, he could send in Eliot, and no one would suspect he was with them until it was too late.
“He said he had the chance to go play some kind of a game,” Parker said. “He’s done that before. Sometimes they do take all night.”
“Not like him to shut off his earpiece the entire night, though,” said Sophie. “The rest of us shut ours off all the time, sure, but he’s the hub. He keeps his around night and day.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to disturb us with screaming about his saving throws,” Eliot said with unconcealed disdain. “I warned him about that the last time he did it. What the hell’s an attack of opportunity anyhow? Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t care.”
“Hardison’s a big boy,” Nate said, as much to reassure himself as the others. “I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later.”
“And if he doesn’t?” said Parker.
“Then we’ll go find him,” Sophie said, an edge of steel in her voice.
“Ain’t going to be easy during an event like this,” Eliot said. “A hundred and fifty thousand people wandering around one spot? That’s the size of a small city of folks who aren’t normally here. Lots of crazy shit can happen while you have that many outsiders in a place.”
“We’ll find him,” said Nate. “But first we have to make this meeting. If Patronus doesn’t sign these contracts before the auction, the whole plan’s shot.”
Nate held the door open for Sophie, and she entered the center. They made their way into the exhibit hall and then toward Patronus’s booth. They’d arrived after the initial morning rush through the doors, but traffic inside the hall was worse than they’d seen it all weekend.
“Where did all these people come from?” Parker said. “I don’t remember this many here yesterday.”
“It’s Saturday, Parker,” Eliot said. “Lots of people in this country still have nine-to-five jobs. They can’t always take off a whole week to wander around here, no matter how geeky the rest of their lives might be.”
“I heard the convention people were telling people with four-day badges to skip Saturday and go to Sea World or the zoo to avoid the crowds,” Sophie said. “It doesn’t seem to have worked.”
“Can we just concentrate on the matter at hand?” Nate said. “Or at least cut down on the chatter so Sophie and I can do our part of the job?”
No one said a word. It was so loud inside the convention center that it was hard for Nate to hear anything, even the voices speaking directly into his ear. The lack of them proved a relief.
“Look,” Nate said as he saw Patronus’s booth come into view. “Parker and Eliot, feel free to go hunting for Hardison as soon as we get the signature. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. And I hope to God you find him passed out with a two-liter bottle of orange soda under one arm and a set of dice in his other hand.”
“Amen,” said Eliot. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Nate and Sophie strolled up to Patronus’s booth. This time Nate carried a briefcase he’d purchased just for this meeting. He’d considered battering it around a bit to keep it from looking new, but he’d decided that he wanted to come across as the kind of attorney not afraid to upgrade his briefcase every now and then. He’d dinged it on the doorway on the way in just so it wouldn’t look exactly as it had at the store last night.
Patronus was chatting with a slim, white-haired gentleman as Nate and Sophie sauntered up. He had to be in his eighties, with swept-back hair, large tinted glasses, and a bushy white mustache. When Nate saw the man, he stopped dead, almost tripping over his own feet, and gawked at him.
“What’s wrong?” Sophie stared at Nate with growing concern. “Is this that much harder than you expected it to be?”
Nate shook his head. He’d done his best to come to terms with the fact that he was entering the convention without Sam at his side. He had a job to do—one that he imagined his son would have been proud of—and he was determined to do it.
“Do you know who that is?” he said. “The guy talking to Patronus?”
Sophie looked back at the man and scrutinized him for a moment. “No. Should I?”
Nate coughed as he tried to recover his composure. “That’s Stan Lee, former editor in chief of Marvel Comics.”
“No way!” Eliot said through the earpiece, unable to restrain himself.
“Who?” said Parker.
“Stan Lee used to run Marvel Comics,” Nate said. “He came up with most of their best-known heroes and stories, including Spider-Man.”
“Oh,” Parker said. “Cool.” Nate could hear a smile in her voice.
“And how does our Mr. Patronus know Stan Lee?” Sophie said.
Although they stood only a dozen feet away, Nate couldn’t make out a word the two men were saying. The background noise from the rest of the convention was just too loud.
Nate stood tall and stretched his shoulders back. “Only one way to find out.”
He strode forward until he was sure that Patronus could see him. The man’s face brightened as soon as he spotted Nate, and he stopped himself in midsentence. “Jeff!” he said. “Jess! So glad you could make it. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all morning.”
Nate and Sophie shook hands with Patronus, matching his grin. “It’s a big day for all of us,” Nate said. “Plus you’ve got the auction too, right?”
“Right!” Patronus swiveled toward the man he’d been talking with and then stopped himself. “Oh, Stan! These are the people I was telling you about. I’m so glad you’re here to meet them.”
Stan turned and stuck out his hand. “Stan Lee,” he said with a wide and easy smile. “Very pleased to meet you.”
Nate shook his hand and then relinquished it to Sophie. “The honor’s all ours, sir,” he said.
Stan chuckled at that. “Lorenzo here tells me you’re going to make one another rich.”
Nate tried a humble shrug. “That’s the end goal, sir. Meanwhile, we’re just hoping to make great comics.”
“Well, good luck to you,” Stan said. “It’s not an easy business. Never has been. But you’ll never have more fun doing anything else.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sophie said with a warm smile. “That’s what we’re hoping.”
“Oh, and if you do strike it rich and you’re looking for writers, don’t forget to give me a call,” Stan said with a grin.
“We’ll do that for sure,” Nate said. He felt just the tiniest pang of guilt for leading someone like Stan Lee on, even about such an innocent thing, but he buried it deep.
“I’ll let you kids get down to business, then.” Stan turned to Patronus. “I’ll see you back here at five for the auction.”
“Thanks again so much, Stan,” Patronus said.
“Anything I can do to
help.”
With that, Stan Lee walked off and disappeared into the crowd. Despite how famous he was—especially to the people inside that building—he managed to blend in well, like he belonged with them more than with anyone else in the world. A few noticed him and pointed him out, but to most of the people who moved about the room, he was just another longtime fan enjoying the convention.
“Stan’s agreed to say a few words before the start of the auction,” Patronus said. “With luck, that’ll get even more people to show up here at the designated time, which is vital for this all to work. This isn’t like eBay, after all. I can’t just relist things that don’t sell.”
“Excellent point.” Sophie glanced around. “Is there somewhere we can conduct our business? It should take only a few minutes.”
“Sure thing,” Patronus said. “Let’s adjourn to my office.”
With that, he led them through the building to the back of the hall and through a set of doors that led to a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, the wide balcony outside of the hall beckoned to them, and Patronus headed for it. He held a tinted-glass door open for Nate and Sophie, then followed them out into the sunshine.
“I got you,” Eliot said through the earpiece. “I don’t see any of his thugs around, and I don’t think anyone else followed you out here. He’s not leading you into a trap. He just doesn’t want anyone else in his booth to know what he’s doing.”
Nate nodded, just in case Eliot was watching them. He couldn’t respond verbally without tipping off Patronus, of course.
Patronus led them to a round white table with a few chairs around it. A number of such tables dotted the wide expanse of open concrete here on the far side of the hall, but this one stood empty and a ways off from the others. A few people, some of them in costume, wandered about on the wide and long balcony, most of them chatting and smiling with their friends.
At one side, a group of cosplayers dressed up as the full cast of the Avengers faced off against a similar group of people dressed up as the members of the Justice League for some kind of photo shoot. To the other side, an outfit of young men and women dressed in medieval costumes faced off against one another in a combat ring, smacking at one another with foam-covered swords. They sweated and cursed as if they were in a real fight, and even though they were in no real danger, the way they cursed in pain when a padded blade connected with them made it sound real enough.
Nate raised his face to the sun and enjoyed the warmth for a moment. It never really felt like this in Boston. Sure, the summers were just as warm, sometimes much hotter, and you could hear the seagulls crying down by the water, just like here, but it smelled different and felt drier, cleaner, and somehow younger. Sam would have loved it.
“How convenient,” Sophie said as they sat down at the table. “Do you have this reserved?”
Patronus snorted. “Most people who come to this show never get much farther than the exhibit hall or maybe into a few of the halls with the panels of celebrities in them. They don’t take the time to wander around outside and enjoy the open air. They don’t ever see this side of the convention center.”
“Those people are missing out,” Parker said through the earpiece. “The top of the building is really cool.”
“So,” Patronus said as Nate put his briefcase on the table between them. “Let’s see that contract.”
Nate reached into the briefcase, pulled out the papers, and laid them in front of Patronus. The wind whipping in off the harbor fluttered their edges, threatening to lift them up and yank them away. Patronus slapped his hand down on them to keep them down and then set to skimming the text.
Nate had cribbed the language from old contracts he kept on file for such occasions. The agreement essentially gave Patronus a minority ownership in a shell corporation that the crew owned. To secure his shares, he had to put up one million dollars. Since he didn’t have that much cash on hand, he would be putting up the contents of the auction as collateral for his investment.
Nate might have felt bad about selling Patronus shares in a nonexistent comic-book publishing company were it not for the fact that the man had stolen everything that he was offering for those shares. All Nate and the rest of the crew were doing was stealing it back. He thought of Simon Curtiss lying in his hospital bed, still mourning for his wife, and any shred of pity that he felt for Patronus evaporated.
“This all looks good,” Patronus said. “Now, as a shareholder in the company, does that improve my chances of working for us as an artist?” He gave Sophie a wink and a smirk.
She smiled back at him. “You’d be surprised how accommodating editors can be when it’s pointed out just who’s helping sign their paychecks.”
Patronus grinned so hard Nate thought his face might fracture. The man was about to get everything he’d ever wanted, or so he thought. All he had to do was sign on the bottom line.
Nate handed him a pen. Patronus picked it up and scribbled his signature across it, figuratively slitting his own throat.
Nate stuck out his hand for the man to shake and smiled. “A real pleasure doing business with you.”
THIRTY-ONE
“All right,” Nate said after Patronus excused himself to get back to his booth. “We got him.”
The man had practically pranced back into the convention center, leaving Nate and Sophie to enjoy the warm ocean breeze and bask in the contentment of a grift well run. They had him by the legal equivalent of the throat, and he’d been only too happy to put the collar around his neck. All they had to do was collect on his contractual promises on Sunday, and they were done.
“Good job, guys,” Parker said. “But what about Hardison? I’m really starting to get worried about him.”
“He’s still not on the earpieces,” Nate said. “Anyone try his cell phone?”
“It doesn’t pick up,” Eliot said. “Goes straight to voice mail. I left three messages already.”
“That means something’s wrong with his phone,” Sophie said.
“He might have just turned it off,” Parker said with a hopeful note that she couldn’t make sound entirely sincere. “He does that sometimes when he really wants to concentrate.”
“Not during a job,” Nate said. “He knows better than that.”
It was time to admit it. Something was really wrong. The only trouble was that they had no idea what.
“Parker, get back to the Hyatt and see what you can figure out. Take Eliot with you. They might still have security footage from last night. Most hotels have a camera focused on the elevators, if not actually inside them. We might be able to figure out who he left the party with.”
“Sounds good,” said Eliot. “What about you two?”
“Sophie’s going to wander the floor and see if she can find any traces of him here.” He reached out and put his hand in hers. “Maybe you can even poke around Patronus’s booth and see if there’s any connection there.”
“You think Patronus had something to do with it?”
Nate shook his head. “I doubt it. He saw Hardison in our stolen booth while he was pretending to be Warren Ellis’s handler. If he’d been involved in Hardison’s disappearance, he never would have signed that contract. He’d have called the whole deal off.”
“Unless he’s a lot sharper than we think, and he’s playing us,” said Eliot.
Sophie shook her head. “No real chance of that, I don’t think. He’s honestly not that clever, and even if he is, what’s the upside to signing a contract with a fictional publishing company?”
“Fine,” Eliot said. “Parker and I will get on it.”
“I can use my FBI badge,” Parker said, “pretend I’m investigating a kidnapping.”
“Good call,” said Nate.
“And where are you off to?” Eliot said.
“I’m going to check the hotel room and make sure he’s not just sleeping off a long night there. That would be the best possible outcome. After that, I’ll look in on the Field to mak
e sure he isn’t waiting for us there.”
Sophie gave Nate a hard look, and he knew just what she meant.
“I will not stay there and drown my sorrows about him going missing,” he said to her. “I’ll look in and leave a message with the management that we’re looking for him.”
“Nate and I should be back in the convention center at Patronus’s booth in time for the auction,” Sophie said. “That’s at five, and I suspect he’ll be expecting us.”
“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” asked Parker.
“Not without Hardison,” Nate said. “And since he’s the one we’re looking for… well, we’ll have to do this the low-tech way. Shoe leather on pavement.”
“I’m wearing sneakers,” Parker said. “They have artificial soles.”
“But you don’t, Parker,” Sophie said with a small grin. “You’ll do just fine.”
“Oh,” Parker said. “Good.”
Nate looked to Sophie, and she let loose a deep sigh before they both stood up. He knew how she felt. Over the years they’d worked together, the crew had become as tight-knit as any family, and Nate didn’t want to bear the thought of Hardison winding up somewhere either injured or dead.
Still, they had to face that possibility, and not for the first time. Their work had an inherent danger. They scammed vicious cutthroats out of their ill-gotten gains, and that often put them at odds with people who’d think little of killing them in revenge.
Add to this the fact that they operated not only outside the law but often in flagrant violation of it, and it surprised Nate that they hadn’t actually lost anyone yet. In his head, he knew that it might only be a matter of time. They played the percentages well and always did their best to keep the odds in their favor, but a job involved too many variables. Even people as good as they were had to rely a bit on luck, and eventually that would run out, right?
“You’re worried about him,” Sophie said softly as they walked back into the convention center.