Chapter Two
'To Con-tinue'
After locating the bush he'd originally hidden his jacket in on a previous 'leisurely stroll' with Murdock a few days ago, Face stuffed his procured black poncho and assorted other Able garb under it, grabbed his leather coat free of clingy branches and clamored up out the ditch just several feet from the side of the road.
He swept his hands over the knees and thighs of his jeans, removing stubborn, prickly brambles that had taken a liking to his ensemble and wanted to come along for the ride.
The rain had subsided to a drizzle as the conman's' heels hit the black asphalt with an authoritative clack, straightening his back slowly from the climb up from the ditch onto the sidewalk.
Hazel eyes scrunched into a self-rebuking wince as he did so, but the expression faded quickly. As long as he didn't pull about three of those climbing stunts in a row, Face judged he might just survive this undercover excursion without too much more than the throbbing that his healing injury tended to offer on a regular basis anyway.
Standing on the street, he now took the time to tug on his slick, black leather jacket, listening to it rub and crinkle loudly as he pulled the sleeves up and used both hands to neaten the collar with his usual strict attention to perfection.
Gina didn't need to know that her date had just escaped house arrest and hiked for almost a mile in the wet, soggy underbrush, hence Face's scrutiny.
That pride-injuring cane was still with him, but, for the moment, after his hike, Face found it might actually be a welcome addition, and with a disgruntled sigh, he bent, pulled the thing out of the brush at the side of the road, and continued his journey up the quiet road with the cane to aid him.
Oh well. As long as no member of the team saw him use it, Face decided it wasn't so bad.
The asphalt was shiny with the fallen rain, and the woods on either side of the road were hauntingly quiet as he walked, footsteps the loudest sound in his ears, aside from the occasional car that cruised by.
Each time, Face tensed at the approach of an engine. He couldn't help it. Ten years of being on the run had sort of bred the instinct into him. Also made him miss the fact that there was no comforting weight of handgun anywhere on his person. He usually kept a .357 securely strapped in a shoulder holster around his middle, but, in his rush, he really hadn't had time to procure one from the teams' stash.
Certainly not without being noticed, especially with the colonel's hawk-eye attention to his team mates.
The thought made him uneasy for a moment as he walked, raking his fingers through his sandy golden hair, arranging it, he hoped, into a semblance of something attractive-without a mirror, it was hard to tell.
Strange, how naked he felt without a weapon, and yet how uneager he was at having to use one anytime soon.
Like a cowboy dumped from a horse.
He thought bitterly as he ascended the hill of the little side road, head down and handsome visage darkened with a frown,
Too afraid to get back on
Which was a totally ridiculous thought, he knew. He'd been through war, countless scuffles, and more hair-raising Hannibal "Half-Pincer" attacks then he'd cared to remember, and yet he lived to fight another day, despite having bullets whizzing overhead and, at times, nearly underfoot. But, somehow, after Villa Cucina, he just didn't have that drive, that strength he knew he should be gaining back, to want to whip out a pistol and start blazing in after the colonel into a pit of goons packing more heat than a truckload of jalapenos.
But then, charging into a collection of hothead baddies never had appealed to Face's opinionated sensibilities as much as it had to Hannibal; but he was the second in command, and could do it, had done, on more than one occasion.
Now? Face smirked mirthlessly, now he wondered if he could even pull the gun out in time to make the shot, much less miss being shot himself.
Villa Cucina's sights and sounds returned in full force, and the conman fought them off with a sharp toss of his head, focusing instead on the intersection he was coming to, letting the sights and sounds of cars and neon store signs distract him, the cool, misty air blowing across his skin as he waited for a 'Walk' signal at the end of the sidewalk. Tiny, cold droplets of rain peppered his face and made the softest of percussions against the shoulders of his coat while he waited, head tipped up, profile darkly outlined against a pure white sky.
He needed to move fast. His reserved ride would be waiting, but also, this was a part of town the team frequented often. If anyone became wise to Face's disappearance, they'd trail fire getting to into town and ruining his perfect plan.
And they would find out, Face knew, it was stupid to think otherwise. No one would allow Face the luxury of simple staying in his quarters from mid-afternoon to nightfall without so much as a peep.
Yup. There would be a commotion, but there was nothing he could do about. He had to take this one step at a time; so far so good, haven't gotten caught yet.
The walk signal binged on, and Face strode as smoothly as his cane would allow, across the walk and into the car lot on the other side of the street, where glaring street lamps glinted off the fine collection of rental cars, all arranged in glittering rows.
Boot heels clacking unevenly due to his handicap, the conman confidently walked down the rows of cars and into the polished glass doors of the establishment, adopting a stance of pure ease, as thought he hadn't walked any farther then from the lot itself as he pushed the doors open soundlessly.
The smell of cleaned leather, car wax and plastic-the undeniable "new car scent"- met his nose, mingling oddly with the scent of Face's spicy cologne as the conman moved into the welcoming warmth of indoors.
"Ah, Mister Stockwell." The middle aged, thin head salesman very nearly pranced across the lobby toward Face as soon as the glass door behind the blond conman swung shut.
This guy was a total fake, Face observed, putting on his usual classy air by smiling broadly and shaking the older man's proffered hand.
Everything about him reeked of amateurism. Face was sure he could con a thousand dollars out of the swaggering man before he even knew what hit him, but he allowed his pride to take a back seat, letting this slick salesman think he'd snared a great prize with Face's phone order for a coal-black Corvette rental, latest model he could find. Of course, Face had conned the man up to this point, so what it really was was sort of a con within a con . . . in a way that Face didn't feel like clarifying at the moment.
Soft, plushy hands that reminded Face of a waterlogged sponge took hold of his right hand with a vigorous shake as the salesman, known simply as Eli, pressed a insistent hand against the conman's back and led him into the glittery showroom, where several sporty units were being displayed under the glaring lights, and a radio was playing low music off to their right behind the reception desk.
"We have your order, Mister Stockwell, waiting out back." The man paused and eyed Face closely, eliciting a mild arch of Face's left eyebrow as Eli added, "You do have your payment, I presume? Filling orders on such short notice is no cheap matter, you know."
"Why, Eli." Face feigned shock, "I'm surprised at your doubt." He flipped out a credit card from his coat pocket and pushed it into Eli's greedy palm with a sly grin,
"The gold's as good as yours."
Rest assured Stockwell won't notice the missing funds Face thought with no little amount of evil humor, watching Eli nod enthusiastically, while passing the card off to the brunette receptionist with instructions.
He'd taken great pleasure, and pride, in connecting the card to the funds Stockwell normally reserved for mission related items.
If Hannibal were in on his little charade, Face was almost sure the colonel would've broken into a crocodile grin over the idea.
"Allow me to present you with your order." Eli bowed slightly, definitely overdoing the whole cordiality thing, and led Face to another set of doors leading to the garage and holding area outside, where the conman could already see his shiny black ride waiting, like a panther in hiding, in the drizzly rain, it's sleek, tapered nose reflecting the overcast sky. It brought back memories of his classy white '84 'Vette, mercilessly reduced to the semblance of an eraser by some idiot at an LA intersection. Frankie and his miracle cure for stodgy brakes.
As soon as Face slid into the encompassing leather driver's seat, he was in a place not far from heaven, inhaling the clean smell of leather and car wax.
"She's a beauty, Eli." He winked at the salesman, who beamed in response, giving the lapel of his tan suit jacket a polite tug while simultaneously standing back from the sports car to watch as Face keyed the ignition.
That old, familiar growl roared to life under the Corvette's ebony hood, and Face grinned, ignoring Eli for the moment, just to absorb the lovely sound.
Like an old friend, the car seemed instantly to greet Face's presence, it's electronic gauges springing to life in a flash of red, green and yellow; a futuristic, but undeniably attractive feature of the 'Vettes..
The engine settled down into a contented rumble, and Face ran an approving hand over the gleaming dashboard, nodding all the while, lost in admiration. Maybe he had initially taken a liking to the sportscar because of its use for wooing the ladies, but after driving his white beauty for so long, Face had to admit, probably the only other thing that could match his affection for a pretty female, was the affection he currently harbored for the Chevy Corvette.
After exchanging a few more words, a return of his credit card, and handshake through a rolled down window, Face bid the grinning Eli farewell, and allowed himself to get lost in the intoxicating sound of the black 'vettes accelerating engine as he sped out of the lot and pulled out into traffic.
He smiled at his reflection in the side mirrors, switching on the windshield wipers as another steady rain began to patter off the glass and hardtop.
A/N: I feel dumb. I really didn't research much on credit cards or how one can use them in a scam. I guess I'm just trusting Face to know all that stuff, because I'm a lazy bum.
