Set a short time after 13. As always, I own practically nothing, and certainly nothing connected with the Ocean's universe.
It was difficult for Saul to keep the smile off his face as he looked round Reuben's living room. He'd worked with a lot of people over the years. A lot of friends. This group was something else.
They'd already finished catching up with each other, for the most part, and now Frank was showing Yen a couple of card tricks and Basher and Livingston were having what he'd thought was a heated discussion on an important technical point, but which had turned out to be about some new Star Trek movie. Linus was standing, flipping through the plans to the Midas. The kid needed to learn to relax more. There'd be plenty of time for work over the next week. By the weekend they'd have Reuben's place more secure than any other casino in Vegas.
Reuben himself had been dragged upstairs by Dr. Stan half an hour ago for his monthly check-up. It seemed the 'I have guests' excuse just wasn't acceptable. Good thing too, there were reasons he liked Stan – mostly that he knew all about discretion and never took any nonsense off anyone. Something that had been at the front of his mind when he'd first started recommending him to certain people.
That left Rusty and Danny, and Turk and Virgil as the only ones still left to arrive. He knew Rusty and Danny were doing something stupid in town; and Virgil had called hours ago to say he and Turk's plane had landed. That had been the last they'd been heard from. Fifty said the next call was from the cop shop, but he'd had no takers.
Which was just as well, really, as the twins finally stomped through the door some three hours after embarking on a thirty minute drive.
"By the way, we can't let him drive anymore." Virgil said to the room at large, after Reuben's butler showed them in. "He gets lost."
"I wasn't the one navigating, princess. Driver drives. Shotgun navigates." Turk snapped immediately, shoving his brother in the shoulder.
"Well, I didn't call shotgun. I called driver." Virgil shoved back.
"I called driver first."
"No you didn't. No you didn't, because – "
"Guys, haven't you driven here about three hundred times before?" Linus interrupted.
They both turned to glare at him. "Shut up." Virgil said, finally.
"So," Turk began, looking round. "Are we the last?"
Livingston shook his head. "Rusty and Danny still aren't here."
"They're doing a favour for Marcus Garrity." Reuben stood in the doorway, Stan – his stethoscope still round his neck – slightly behind him.
"Garrity?" Frank frowned. "Thought he retired."
Saul snorted. "I retired." he pointed out. "Danny retired. Doesn't seem to mean much these days."
Frank nodded, acceptingly. "Didn't think they were that close to Garrity anyway."
Basher laughed. Saul almost smiled himself. "They're not. But you know what they're like."
"Huh?" Linus looked confused. He really needed to get past the whole hero-worship thing and accept that while his heroes might or might not have feet of clay, they certainly had more than their fair share of flaws.
"He told them what he wanted, and they got caught up in how they could do it without thinking about why they should." He was absolutely sure about what he was saying. After all, he'd seen it a hundred times before.
"When I called them last week, they seemed to be having fun." Reuben said. "Rusty said they'd be finished by this afternoon." He frowned slightly. "Would have expected to hear from them by now, actually."
"They probably stopped for something to eat." Stan suggested.
That seemed more than possible.
"Hey, Linus." Basher called. "How did you get on with that job for Bobby?"
Linus grimaced slightly. "Fine." he said shortly.
Intriguing. And Basher obviously agreed. "Wait a minute, you don't get to leave it there. What was the problem?"
"No problems. Everything went like clockwork. A textbook job." He still sounded pissed off though.
"So . . . ?" Livingston prompted.
Linus sighed. "It was really boring." he admitted. "And dad kept asking if I was sure I could handle it."
"So you're not going to be working with him again?" Saul asked delicately.
"I don't want to, but he was talking like . . . I don't even know what."
There were always problems with getting what you wanted.
"Did you guys hear about Roman?" Livingston asked suddenly.
There was a general shaking of heads.
"Well, apparently he got arrested on some stupid charge. Driving without a license, or something like that. Anyway, he pays the fine with what looks like a suitcase full of money, only he's got one of his holograms set up in the case. So all the money's a fake, and he drives off scot-free."
"Wouldn't the hologram cost more than the fine?" Turk asked.
Livingston shrugged. "He said it was a matter of principle. They never got his real name anyway."
A phone rang suddenly. One of those jangly mobile tunes that he hated. Stan pulled an apologetic face and glanced at the caller display before answering. "Hi, we were just talking about you."
Saul stilled. The fact that it was Stan' phone that had been rung didn't sit well with him at all. Roman? Bobby? Danny, Rusty?
Stan nodded at whatever the person on the other end was saying and said "Just a minute." He covered the mouthpiece and looked at Reuben. "I need to take this in the other room."
Reuben, who looked like how Saul was feeling, nodded. As Stan stepped out the door, they heard him say. "Okay, first things first. Have you got the bleeding stopped?"
Nine people, one thought.
Turk was closest and jammed his foot in the door before it was closed. Yen was fastest and slipped through the hallway and caught the next door before it shut. They crowded silently just outside the room and listened.
Through the crack in the door, Saul could see Stan pacing round the room. "Okay, do you know if the bullet's still in there?"
Damn. Oh, damn.
"Right, I see . . . no, you did the right thing."
Stan' voice sounded grave but reassuring, and Saul could hear Linus' harsh breathing just behind him.
"OK . . . yes . . . no, you don't need to worry about that right now, if . . . " Stan started pacing and suddenly stopped dead as though listening to something. "Am I on speaker phone right now?"
There was a pause. "Okay then." He raised his voice significantly as if trying to get someone's attention. "Hey. Hey. Say you're fine one more time and Danny has my permission to sedate you by any means that come to hand."
His breath caught in his throat. Danny. Rusty. Damn.
"Well, all right then." Stan went on. "I'm at Reuben's right now, so with your permission I'll tell . . . " He trailed off, obviously listening to something urgent. "No, I went into the other room." There was another pause, and then Stan turned round slowly, walked over to the door and swung it open. Saul hadn't bothered trying to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping, but by the sound of the scuttling footsteps behind him, he was one of the only ones.
Stan looked at them for a long moment and shook his head slowly. "All of them, actually." he told Danny.
Saul reached out a hand and took the phone from Stan. There was the sound of low, familiar voices on the other end. "Daniel?"
"Hi, Saul." Danny sounded his usual relaxed and confident self. Or at least he would have, if Saul hadn't known him for more years than he cared to think of. As it was, he could hear the muffled, frantic edge.
"Hey Saul." Rusty sounded cheerful, and he didn't need the decades of friendship to read the exhaustion. Probably did to catch the pain though.
Still, he relaxed a little. If there was a chance that it was life-threatening they would have dropped the pride. Actually, if there'd been a chance it was life-threatening Danny would have got them to a hospital and to hell with the problems of explaining bullet wounds.
"How is he?" he asked all the same.
"I'm fine." Rusty immediately answered. Saul let his silence do the talking.
"Bullet in the shoulder." Danny said and this time anyone could have picked up on the stress in his voice. Not a good sign.
"Where are you?" He made sure his tone was stern; the help wasn't up for discussion.
"Green Beach motel. Twenty miles out of town." To his credit Danny had barely hesitated.
"You can't miss it. There's an inflatable buffalo outside." Rusty put in, and Saul couldn't quite figure out if he was more comfortable with that being a pain-induced hallucination or a reality.
"Green Beach motel." he repeated, glancing round. Livingston immediately headed out of the room and he knew they'd have an exact postal address in minutes. "Is anyone looking for you?" If there was, well, they could deal with it, but they had to know.
"Nah, we're good." Rusty said happily, and Saul could almost see the look that Danny gave him.
"Clean anyway." Danny agreed after a moment that had unquestionably been very full.
He relaxed a bit more. "You need to talk to Stan again?" he asked.
"I know what I'm doing." Danny answered. In the background he heard Rusty muttering something in the background that might have been uncomplimentary and might have been another claim to be fine. "Rusty, don't . . . " he could hear Danny's attention wavering.
"Sit tight. We'll be there soon." he promised as the line went dead.
Livingston ran back into the room, waving a piece of paper. "Got it!" he babbled. "There was also a Green Lodge and a Pink Beach, but this is definitely the place, and how bad is it?"
Saul looked to Stan. "Rusty's been shot." the doctor said bluntly. "In the shoulder. It isn't life-threatening, but I would like to get there as soon as possible."
"Turk will drive us." Saul said, taking the paper out of Livingston's hand and thereby ruling on exactly who was going. Him, Stan and Turk, leaving two free seats in the car.
"Hey, I want to go." Linus protested, apparently doing the same math.
Saul stared at him and he shut up. "There's no-one looking for them, so we can bring him back here." he pointed out, before belatedly glancing over at Reuben. It was his house being so freely offered, after all.
Reuben just looked back at him. "What? You'd be bringing them back here anyway." And Saul remembered that he wasn't actually the one who'd known the boys longest. "Get going, already."
It wasn't until the third time that he'd had to remind Turk that getting pulled over for speeding would be disastrous right now that he began to second guess himself. Possibly one of the younger ones would have been more helpful. But they'd all wanted to go – they'd all felt the same panic, and he hated waiting around. Besides, what he did have going for him was that he was probably the only one who could, if necessary, tell Rusty and Danny what to do, and have some hope that they'd actually do it.
"That's it." Turk said suddenly, swinging the car round in a ninety degree turn and screeching into the motel parking lot. Green Beach. And there was an inflatable buffalo bobbing around outside, advertising a local diner.
Turk sprung out of the car and looked round the courtyard. Slightly more sedately, but no less hastily, Saul and Stan followed.
"What room number?" Stan asked.
Oh, right. He sighed and held out a hand for Stan' cell phone again.
"That one." Turk's voice sounded odd. Saul turned and followed his gaze. A ground floor room. Stan nodded and immediately started heading towards it, but it wasn't until Saul got a lot closer that he saw the bloodstain on the ground outside and understood.
I was in two minds about posting this. At the very least. And I'm afraid that there wasn't originally supposed to be a break there, but I was hoping for reactions before getting the next bit in a workable shape. Yes, I know. Pathetic insecurity issues. ;D