Session 29
"That's your plan?" Lin balked, buttoning his suit jacket over a dark-red collared shirt.
Spike's knee peeked through the frayed hole of an old pair of jeans, his ratty t-shirt only half tucked in looked like the seams might give at any moment. He glanced around the corner of the restaurant, holding his phone just out of his worn jacket pocket, the garish daylight picked out all the scuffs and scratches in the leather. "Yeah, but you gotta sell it. Can you?"
"Are you crazy? What if I flatten you!" Clapping a hand over his mouth, Lin rapidly backpedaled. "Shit! I didn't mean to call a superior crazy."
"Whatever." Spike held up a hand. "First of all, that won't happen. Second, if you did manage to, that would be convincing, right? Just aim and don't hold back, I'll take care of the rest. Remember, you have to leave a mark."
Lin scratched his head. "Doesn't that leave you at a disadvantage?"
"That's the idea. Look at me, Lin. No one would buy a twenty-year old crime boss. So this is our only option. I've been tailing him for two days now. He won't expect this."
"Because this is absolutely the worst idea I can imagine." Lin slicked his hair back. "Alright. You're the one calling the shots. But, I seriously don't get you. "
Spike handed him the Jericho. "Take this with you. And don't lose it, I like that gun."
Pocketing it, Lin's eyes widened, "You're going in unarmed?"
"I'm never unarmed. One last thing, don't loose track of the beacon. I'll get pissed if I don't have backup when this finally goes down."
"What's the signal that you need us?"
"How about yelling 'get your asses in here,' that work for you?"
Lin smirked.
Static broke over the phone. Shin's hushed voice crackled out, "Whatever you two are going to do, get ready. He's on his way out."
"Copy." Spike picked up a duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.
As he was about to stride out from the alleyway, Lin grabbed Spike's arm. "Are you sure about this?"
"Don't make me give you an incentive. Now, come on." Spike stormed out of the alley, glancing over to the front door of the restaurant as it opened. A short man with a black goatee dressed in a pinstriped suit walked out flanked my two burly men. Bingo. Spike flicked three fingers on his hidden side. A second later he heard Lin's racing footsteps.
He snatched the bag and started a tug of war as Spike hung on for dear life. Lin shouted, "Lazy-ass Red Dragon!"
"Let go!" Spike held tight, his shoes scrapping across the pavement. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Songbird holding a staying hand to his goons. We got his attention. Do it, Lin!
"This will serve you right for being late!" Lin gritted his teeth, drew back his right fist and delivered a hard cross hook.
The fist slammed into a collision course towards Spike's right eye. Turning his head along with the blow, he resisted the urge to dodge and instead rolled with it. The momentum twisted his body into a limp fall, leaving him sprawled out on his chest.
Lin hardly paused. Bag in hand, he dashed down the street. Through a cracked eyelid, Spike watched his retreat. Run, Lin! Don't let them catch you.
Footsteps approached behind him, not past him. Spike suppressed a sigh of relief as the shadows fell over him. He lay perfectly still, the throb of the growing bruise heating his eye. A foot nudged his shoulder. Spike moaned softly, shifting his fingers up to cover his already swelling eyelid.
Two pairs of strong hands gripped his shoulders and wrenched him to his feet. Spike hung slack in their arms, trying to stand on his own and failing miserably. "The … bag … the delivery … where is it?"
Songbird offered a sympathetic smile. "Oh dear, you mean the bag that man who hit you ran off with?"
"No!" Spike broke the hold of the goons and instantly tumbled into the wall holding his eye with a hiss. "No! Oh shit! They're gonna kill me if I don't come back … if I come back without the money or the delivery—I'm a dead man!"
"Easy now." Songbird placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm a friend of the Red Dragons. Come with me. Let me help you."
"You will?" Spike tried to grip his hand, but missed, practically falling forward.
The goons grabbed his slumped body as Songbird snapped his fingers. "Certainly. Always happy to strike a deal. My friends will help you along. Tell me, how are you feeling?"
"A bit sick, kinda dizzy." He hung his head.
"Aww, perhaps you have a bit of a concussion. Poor boy. Does this happen often?"
"Yeah. A lot lately. Sucks being a delivery boy. Ask me, it ain't worth it."
"Delivery boy?" Songbird rubbed his chin. "And does this mean that you know where the warehouses are?"
Spike sniffled. "Course … I just … I really wanna lie down now … my head … it hurts."
"Let's go see to that, shall we?" Songbird snapped his fingers and the goons carried Spike off with them.
The abandoned factory echoed every slap of Songbird's shoes as he paced the floor victoriously. This shoddy place wasn't his primary business office. That office was in a respectable building downtown. One couldn't be too careful with one's reputation. Not everyone was aware of his secret auctions, and this building always served as the perfect blackout place for the auction block.
He grinned over at the newest addition to his catalog. The Red Dragon delivery boy lay slumped on his side where he had been dragged. By now his right eye had turned a dark shade of purple, swelling shut against the floor. Out cold, he hadn't moved over the hour since Songbird's men had cuffed his right wrist to a metal ladder rung welded to the wall to keep the merchandise from wandering off.
"How cheap is the price of loyalty?" he mused aloud to himself, studying the unfortunate wretch who had crossed his path. "What is the price of a life? We will soon see how valuable you are. The only question is whether to bundle you with the stolen information or hock you as a separate item? Of course, I could simply extract everything you know and sell that instead." His grunts cracked their knuckles. "Hrm, so many options."
Songbird rolled his fingers in thought, grinning. The screen on his computer flashed, he hit the key and faced it. "Ahhh, just the call I was waiting for."
On the screen, a blue-eyed blond man in a business suit glared back. "What is this I heard about a new item?"
"Oh, just a little something I picked up off the streets."
"Tell me."
Songbird leaned closer to the screen, blocking any chance of a sneak peak. "If you'd like a preview I can arrange it. Trust me, it's worth it. I might even interest you in a bundled arrangement with a cut of the profits."
The man lifted an eyebrow. "Bundle? What are you talking about? How can you possibly offer more than the stolen intelligence?"
"When would you like to stop by and find out?"
"Be there in a half hour. This better be good!"
The screen went dark. Songbird laughed at the unconscious Dragon. "You, my boy, are a rare item for my block. I usually don't deal in pounds of flesh. However, if there is one thing I've learned, there is a price for everything. How shall we list you? An atlas or a reference manual, perhaps?"
Shin glanced up from the tracker on his phone at the cracked factory windows, filmed over from years of disuse. He crept up to the side of the building and kept his voice hushed, "This has to be it. The beacon shifts rapidly. He's right inside that room."
Crouching beside him, Lin massaged his bruised knuckles.
"You seriously hit him?" Shin glanced at the purple blotches.
"Yeah, he insisted on it, the crazy bastard. Told me not to pull the punch. The way he went down, shit, I think I hit him too hard. And you know where? He insisted it be his right eye."
"What?" Straightening up, Shin grabbed his shoulders. "You didn't really do it, did you?"
Lin bowed his head and nodded.
Shin frantically searched the panes of glass. "Hope we don't have to report to Ironwall that you killed Spike."
"I was under orders."
Peering through a crack in the glass, Shin cringed. "Well then, I hope you have a recording of that for your trial … this doesn't look good."
Lin pushed him aside and pressed up against the glass. He spied Spike sprawled on his side, his wrist cuffed to the wall. The dark bruise over his eye pressed against the floor. Inhaling sharply, Lin backed up. "I swear I didn't mean to—"
Shin grabbed his shoulders and yanked his brother behind a stack of old pallets. A second later several men strode by, eyes deadlocked in front of them. A burly man in a suit pounded on the door with a sneer. The moment the door opened he barked, "Songbird, this better not be some cheap trinket you have to sell."
"Oh, you give me such little faith. Let him in, boys, he is our expected guest."
Crawling back to the window, Lin and Shin both tried to peer through at the same time. A brief flash of light caught Shin's attention. Spike's left eye blinked shut, his brow furrowed. Not in pain, but frustration. Both brothers held their breath, watching as the businessman entered out of Spike's line of sight.
"Did he … you don't think he planned this?" Shin whispered.
Lin glanced at his bruised knuckles. "The guy's completely lost his orbit. But if this works, I'll never question him again."
See you, Space Cowboy
