Hey there. Thanks so much for all the reviews I got, they are mightily appreciated. It makes me happy, and happy me writes faster... *eyebrow-waggle*
So, no more unnecessary notes, here's the next chapter. (P.S, the story has so far over 13.000 words...)
Four days later, Sophie got the call.
Nate didn't even bother to be surprised; whatever Spencer had cooked up and put inside that envelope had elicited too much confidence to not let the mark bite, and bite hard.
"Blockard Unlimited, how can I help you?" Hardison breathed into the phone pretending to be the soft-spoken receptionist anyone would expect Anna Blockard to have. "Yes, certainly, Mister Smith I will give your name and number to Ms Blockard and she will call you back. Is that going to be in order, Sir? … Yes, thank you for calling Blockard Unlimited, Mister Smith." Hardison hung up, scratching his hair with force. "Man, I feel dirty even talking to that creep. This is such a … man, it's disgusting, it's what it is."
"Oh, stop complaining, Hardison, you didn't have to shake his hand." Sophie snarled back, then straightened and slipped into her role. When the traces of Sophie Devereaux had disappeared, she motioned to Alec to connect the call.
"Mr. Smith, what a pleasure to hear from you again, and so quickly. How can I help you?"
"Ms Blockard, do you have any way to … to get in contact with the person who hired you to deliver my win?"
"Why, yes, of course I do. Is there a problem with the merchandize? Do you need me to... work something out with the other party?"
"No, no, all is well. I... I would just like to order more of the... merchandize and wondered if you could arrange that. Is it possible?"
"Well, of course it's possible. Our fees are quite... generous, though, and since this time it would be you who hires me, it would be you who pays. Is that agreeable with you?"
"Uhm.. how much are we talking here?"
"Ten thousand dollars, up front, no refund if you don't come to terms with the second party – I'm only the broker and I do not participate in your tradings." Silence stretched. "Mr Smith, are you still with me?"
"Oh, yes yes. I just... I needed to... well, never mind. I agree to those terms, Ms Blockard. When-"
Sophie interrupted. "Like the last time, Mr Smith, I will contact you when your business-associate is willing to deal. The money for my service will be wired to my account, and I need it until tomorrow or our deal is off. Do you understand? My assistant will give you the transfer-details. Now, have a pleasant evening, Mr Smith."
With flourish, Sophie disconnected and Hardison took over, smoothly giving the mark an account-number to wire the money to. It would be used directly for Mrs Morton and her family.
"So, now what? Sophie gives him more pictures or whatever else was in that envelope and we string him along until he's broke? I mean, I ain't complainin' about the broke-part, man, but that sounds like a loooong ass con."
"No, the plan's a little different." Nathan glanced over at Eliot, who didn't appear to have moved at all. He wasn't meeting his eyes. Very reassuring.
"So what's the plan? What do we steal?" Parker lit up at the idea, and Nathan hated to crush her enthusiasm.
"Nothing. Well... not nothing. We steal his everything, but right now, we don't need the actual stealing to happen. We rather... give him things."
Parker stared at him, wide eyed as if the concept was entirely alien to her. It might just be, he wouldn't be able to tell.
"How far are we going to take it, Nate? What... I mean I can do a lot, but..."
"You don't need to take it much further, Soph. Next meeting, he'll want to cut out the middle-man. And you will allow that, since Ms Blockard is very down-to-business and would never stand against the wishes of her employer." He winked. "He'll want to see his partner, and that's the next thing we'll give him." They looked up at him, like kids on Christmas, like grandchildren to their favorite Grandpa, like Sam had looked... Nathan swallowed, took one more sip of whiskey. "Let's go steal a life."
"Mister Smith." Sophie didn't try to waste her charm on the man. The last time, he hadn't even bothered to look at her more than the absolute necessities, and since she knew his real preferences, well... no use trying to flatter him with her beauty. Nate was impressed with her cold calculation. She reminded him of Tara, like this, who'd had more ice inside her veins. Where Sophie made people burn, Tara dazzled with the sparkle of diamonds: utterly beautiful but cold and hard. "I have made arrangements with the second party, he is willing to deal with you some more. He has more of the merchandize you request, and he'd be willing to work something out that would be to our mutual benefit."
"Yes, yes. Well... I'm really … Ms Blockard, I don't want to offend you, but could you ask him to meet me? Personally? I don't feel very... free around you. I'm sorry," he quickly apologized, as if it would matter that her feelings might be hurt. As if he cared.
"Well, Mister Smith, I would strongly advice against that. In … well, in your business, it would be much better to keep the direct contact to a minimum."
"What … do you know about my business?" Winham clutched the envelope – the new one, not as thick as the first but clearly filled with something – against his chest, a spooked look crossing over his face. "Did you look in the envelope?"
"Mister Smith, don't be ridiculous."
Nate exhaled the breath he'd held without even knowing. For a moment, he'd feared Sophie had slipped up, hinting, even covertly, that she knew more about Winham than she should if she were Anna Blockard. But her cool dismissal had set Winham at ease right away.
Hardison had wired the room perfectly. Nate could see every motion, and even every expression through the camera in Sophie's necklace.
"Having scruples is a luxury in my business. I like luxury. And I also like my job very much." She smirked. "And the money, of course. But to keep all of what I like, I cannot afford to know what you and my other clients are up to. Peeking into somebodies mail would assure not only a dwindling supply of clients but also a rapid loss in luxury. So no, Mister Smith, I did not look into your envelope." Sophie sneered at him, pretend-affronted and a little angry at her 'client'. Winham was reassured and smiled, trying his good-ol'-boy charm on her to get himself out from under her sharp gaze.
"No, no, of course, I apologize for my rudeness. I don't doubt your professionalism. It is just... well, I would feel a lot more at ease if I actually saw who I'm dealing with. It's... well, it's a thing I have."
"Yeah, I bet ya do," Alec snarled at the screen. "Bet you have a lot of 'things' you have, you slimy little … thing."
"Shhh," Nathan shushed him, listening back in.
"Well... I will certainly ask him. It is, after all, my job to pass messages back and forth. If he agrees, though, I expect a compensation."
"Yes, yes, of course. I think... how much?"
"Ugh, I don't like calculating on the spot. But... well, I estimate twenty-thousand should be sufficient."
"Twenty..." the man visibly spluttered, but after a moment of angry swallows while Sophie stood by and let him work it out, he nodded "Yes, very well. If your – my – partner agrees, I will pay you the money. But this time, it won't be up front but when I actually meet this man. Or woman. I don't care either way. You can leave at once after the greetings, and I'll give you the money. Or do you prefer it wired?"
"Wired, please. Cash is so easy to lose these days."
Her disdain looked and sounded genuine, and in his head, Nate drew his hat for her. Sophie in action was a thing of beauty.
"I will contact you as soon as I have an answer. Good day, Mister Smith."
With that, she left the room and once again, Winham couldn't wait to check the contents of his envelope. Whatever Eliot had prepared, it made the mark very happy. Hardison made a puking sound next to him and Nate couldn't agree more.
He switched off the screen.
"Are you sure you want to do this? Eliot?"
Eliot just stared at her, then growled an affirmation. Funny, how a man could communicate perfectly with angry glares and threatening growls, and yet never manage to actually make any of the team afraid of him. Strange, how a man so dangerous was considered a pussycat by four people, despite them all knowing – at least on a basic, logic level – what he was capable off.
Nathan hoped this wouldn't be the pet-tiger that ate Sigfried. Or Roy?
"Eliot, listen, best way to play him is-"
Spencer listened, nodding once in a while. Nate hadn't gotten to where he was today by ignoring hints, hadn't survived so long in this crazy line of work without knowing what to look for in his team-members, so it wasn't hard to see it: Eliot was humoring her, not intending to use any of her tips. And that was … worrying. Because Eliot was not a grifter.
He was good, he could pull off a nice con, could smirk and smile his way along perfectly, but he still wasn't a born conman.
He wouldn't be able to act like one so there was little doubt that he wouldn't even try.
That was, as said before, worrisome. And Nate wasn't yet sure why, exactly.
At seven that night, Sophie accompanied Eliot to the hotel room where Winham was already waiting. When they'd left, they'd been Eliot Spencer and Sophie Deveraux on their way to a big con, like always, like the people they were. When they stepped into the rigged room, though, Anna Blockard was followed by a stranger. Cold-eyed and hard, emotionless, Eliot – no, not Eliot, Evan Howard – stepped inside, shooting a glance at the man and assessing him as an adversary. Or better, as a man not worth any violence but a lot of money. He didn't have his trademark scowl on, just a blank detachment that still projected danger.
"Damn, Eliot's good, man," Hardison whispered and Nate didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't an act. Not...exactly.
"Ms Blockard, what a pleasure." Winham barely managed to keep his manners, his greedy eyes set on Eliot, drawn towards him, towards the man who would deliver his desires. He quickly pulled out a tablet computer, punched in a few numbers and smiled at Sophie. "Your money is sent. I am very grateful for your service, I will recommend you further whenever I get the chance."He shook her hand again, even gave a little bow and accompanied, nearly shoved her to the door. Sophie said a few short, politely-cold words in goodbye and then left.
Leaving their mark with Eliot.
"Is he gonna kill him?" Parker asked, upside-down from the sturdy cabinet. "He looks different."
"That's because he's upside-down, girl. Or better, you are," Hardison joked, but Nathan knew he'd realized the same thing. The man they all knew didn't radiate such coldness, not from up close and certainly not over a computer-screen. Hot fury, yes. Violence, yes. But this?
But the man they all knew wasn't the one standing in that room, ready to negotiate with a slimy, dirty excuse for a human being.
Eliot's hair was slicked back, gelled or greased instead of just combed or tied with a hairband. It made him look like a ball of dirt, yet still didn't take from his hard, cruel intelligence. Even a bastard like Winham would see that, and Nate had watched Eliot fitting into his disguise earlier. It wasn't much, a suit that looked more expensive than it was and the mentioned hairdo.
For a hard-hitting thief, Spencer was really invested in his hair.
"So?" Eliot spoke, the same detached arrogance in his voice that was in his stance.
"Mr... Uhm, how can I call you?"
"Evan will do."
"Evan, okay, well... You want a drink?"
Eliot just stared at him, eyebrows raised. "You want to drink with me? I can drink with better company than yours, and if you parted with that much money just to meet me, well... your business."
He turned, stepped towards the door but Smith grabbed his arm quickly.
"No, no, wait, please wait. I... I want more. I want more of the pictures. I need more of them. Can you get me more? I'll pay you a lot of money to get me more!"
"How much money?"
"The same I did before, but this time it's straight to you, so you would get her share on top of your own fee."
With a truly horrifying smile, Eliot nodded at the mark. "That sounds interesting. You have any preferences considering age? Hair-color? Size?"
"Man, I did not hear that!" Hardison took his earpiece out. "I did not hear that, and I don't wanna hear that ever again. Ugh, man..." he stood and paced, went to the fridge, opened it and closed it again, than paced some more.
"Sit down, you make me nervous," Nate murmured, still focused on the screen and the audio. Parker was absentmindedly picking and re-picking the lock on a cabinet and Sophie was in the bathroom, drying her hair after taking a shower.
He could hear the dry-blower.
"What? No, I want the same. The... he's perfect. I … I want him. More of him. Just him."
"Well, I'm sorry, but that's not possible."
"What? Why?"
"What? Why? Where's he going with this?" Sophie, apparently finished, stepped into the main room with her finger still fiddling the earpiece into her ear. "I thought we give him more until he's buried in this shit, until there's no way to get off clean! Nate, why did you change the plan?"
"I didn't, shut up," he hissed. He was angry at Eliot, but then again, it was really his con, even though nobody seemed to realize it.
"Because, Mr Smith-" Eliot smirked out the name, clearly showing his disdain about such a crude alias "-he is burned. We did a couple of shots with him, the last ones you got in the last envelope. We can't use him anymore, too old, too smart. People started looking for him. Better for you to forget him. Everyone will."
Evan Howard was still ready to leave but examined his hands, as if it was an unconscious gesture. Nate was pretty sure it was deliberate. This man didn't care one iota about the fact that he was talking about a boy, spoke as if he was talking about guns, drugs or something else dead, inanimate.
"But... no. No! You... you gonna... What?"
"Maybe I did not make myself clear here. He is burned! Burned merchandize gets disposed of. We can't keep him running around, you should know of the dangers that kind of crap poses."
Sophie leaned over Nate's shoulder, her perfume this time unable to drag him down a happy, erotic memory-lane. He was too focused on the show they were getting, and Sophie was as well. "Damn, he's better than I ever gave him credit for..." she whispered.
If only she knew.
The mark was clearly devastated. He paced, scratched his head and wrung his hands, then started over again.
"I can still offer you something similar. Seeing as you liked him so well, I might even lower the price a little. Would be a rough one, anyway, our best products are getting a bit too hard-edged nowadays."
"No, no. No substitute. You said you... dispose of him?" Eliot nodded "Then... give him to me. Instead." Winham straightened, clearly reaching a decision and for once showing the confidence they knew he possessed, the confidence he used to snare people like ducks and take them for all they were worth. "I'll take him off your hands."
'
'
TBC
