Chapter 38

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Ah, damn. An official briefing in front of the screens meant he had to get up and walk. Not only that; the screens would disperse the half darkness that so perfectly hid his movement and face.

And he couldn't say no. He didn't want to – Chinese letters, trucks and weapons, when all gathered in one place, sang a very deadly song.

Slow getting up was covered by bringing George with him, and it also provided enough time for the rest of them to take the sofa and chairs. Nate was occupied with a document that he zoomed in on, giving him enough time to grab a stool from the dining table and bring it with him. Sitting behind them would spare him the inquisitive glances as well as piling on the sofa.

He put the chair behind the sofa, in the middle, sat and put his elbows on the backrest, all in one swift move. Damn. He really hoped no one would ask him anything, at least not in the next few minutes. His teeth were gritted so hard that he felt his jaw cracking. Yet, he managed to raise no suspicion, and above that, he found the exact limit. His elbow was almost as high as his shoulder – one inch more and he would have to go back to the bathroom for another set of stitches. Nope. He would have to be picked up from the floor and carried to the bathroom, and locked there until Betsy came with a triple dose of elephant tranquilizer.

"Knudsen wasn't quite aware of all info he gave Inspector Olivia Lohman," Nate said when they all settled down; Hardison, Florence and Parker on the sofa, and Sophie in the opposite chair. He held a bunch of documents in his hand, and he started throwing them on the coffee table. "And with the things that Hardison dug up, we have an impressive bunch of papers. Permits, work sheets, contracts, employee lists, results of various pollution studies, equipment tests, implementations under testing, lists of tangible assets, construction equipment, even vibration analysis." One by one, the papers flew to the table, until only one remained in his hand. "It took time to go through all of it, not knowing what to look for – when there's too much info, all the important things are buried."

"There's no such a thing as 'too much info'," Hardison murmured.

"Oh yes, there is," Florence said in the same voice.

Nate waved the paper in his hand, and they both shut up.

"The good thing was, that a few suspicious things helped to narrow the search," he went on. "Why the hell would anybody import Chinese dump trucks, even if duties are set to zero for imports? The sand excavation camp, even as huge as this one is, doesn't need so many of them – I tried to count them that evening, but I saw only one parking lot, more of them were behind the main buildings. I don't think that mine is just a cover up for something, no; it's a very good business that brings in a lot of money – but it's not only that. Knudsen is using it – or should I say – the Italian mob is using Knudsen's mine as a perfect spot for something else. A legal business, far away from curious eyes, in the woods, isolated from any danger. Did I mention huge?" Nate turned around and put two pictures of the mine machinery on the screens. "And don't forget an even bigger complex that's connected to the mine – the slaughterhouse ruins."

"We couldn't see much of it that night," Hardison said, glancing back at him, and he nodded. "But there wasn't anything important – just a very good place for interrogating and killing people."

"And I walked through the upper levels, while you were in the basement ones," Parker added. "A lot of garbage and destroyed rooms and walls, nothing more."

Nate looked at him, and he stopped shrugging at the last moment. "They're right," he said. "I didn't see anything that would tell us there's something important hidden there. They had electricity, though, but it was probably automatically connected to the mine. Nothing new – just a few dim lights."

"You notice anything unusual while you were being driven in the van? Could you track where you were taken?"

"Highways and bigger intersections, yes, but I got lost when we went onto the smaller roads through the woods. Why?"

"How did you know they were smaller roads?"

"Lots of potholes, many curves, and lots of sand by the end of it. Why?"

Nate smiled, pulling up a picture that was taken from tree level, so the road was visible.

"It was raining today, so it's little blurry," Nate said, and put another image near the first one. The road again, but different. "This one is blurry too, taken from the same spot. But it's not the same road. This one connects the mine and the slaughterhouse."

They all looked at the pictures. The second road was broad, without potholes, going in a straight line from the camp to the ruins.

"Any idea why the road to an abandoned ruin is much better maintained than the public road that leads to the camp?" Nate asked. "So their occasional victims can enjoy a comfortable last ride? I don't think so. There is something in that slaughterhouse, and it's well hidden. Tonight we're gonna find it."

"Well hidden things are usually well guarded," he said.

"And it's raining," Hardison said.

"And I don't have shoes for mud, Nate," Sophie continued the line.

"Not to mention that we would need days of searching to find anything – as you said, it is huge." Parker finished.

Nate looked at all of them.

"Are you nagging?" he asked, slowly.

"I'm not," Florence said. "But I also don't have any clothes for searching ruins. Can we… just skip that?"

She was sitting right in front of him and he couldn't see her face, yet he knew why she said that. She didn't know, though, that their objections were irrelevant, when Nate said that something had to be done.

"You can go and dig up something in my closets upstairs," Nate said. "There's enough clothes to choose-"

"Fuck!" Florence shot to he r feet like a rocket; the move was so sudden that he almost stood up too, scanning the room for danger. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck…" she ran around the sofa, followed by their stares, to the working table and her phone. "Can't believe I forgot- fuckfuckfuck – Hello? Florence McCoy here, may I speak to – oh, Vivian, it's you. I'm sorry, I completely forgot to call you – yes, yes, yes, I can, you can send it. Hectic few days, you know how it goes. Thank you, I really appreciate that. Today, yes, even tomorrow is okay if it's too late now, the important thing is that it's finished. Thank you so much, Vivian. Bye."

She lowered the phone and slumped into her chair, looking as if somebody just canceled the death sentence.

"And what was that?" Nate asked dryly. "I thought we had a deal, Florence – doing nothing on your own. You can't call-"

"My dress for the PVA ceremony," she hissed. "Over a month of making – no damn threat is gonna stand between me and my dress – it's the PVA, for god's sake, it's almost like going to the Oscars!"

"Which dress?" Sophie jumped in when Nate opened his mouth.

"Louis Vuitton." Her voice changed in instant, she almost giggled.

"You don't say!" The same tone appeared in Sophie's voice as well. "Tell me everything!"

"Erm, ladies, the slaughterhouse…"

Florence left the phone and returned to the sofa, passing by Nate. "It's princess style, dark green silk, extremely tight, but you'll see, it has thin gold and emerald lines that follow-"

"Bare shoulders and back!? Perfect – so classy. You'll look gorgeous in it. And that reminds me, we have to think about our clothes for that evening. It'll be a busy day tomorrow, but I think we'll manage to squeeze one or two shopp-"

"If we can continue the briefing for just two more minu-"

"I do hope you decided about shoes, too," Sophie talked over Nate's words and continued on about heels, and Nate snapped his mouth shut. Hardison was grinning again; his good mood today was really annoying, but their chatter almost made him smile too.

Parker, of course, had the same expression that Nate had – raised eyebrows and confused frown.

Orion chose the right moment to jump in the action. He climbed on the sofa directly into Hardison's lap, provoking a series of loud sneezes that slowed the women a bit, enough for Nate to attract their attention again. He stood up and waved the paper in front of their faces.

"Chinese trucks," he said firmly. "Chinese guns. Chinese letters. Eyes on the screen, both of you."

The two pairs of eyes rolled first, but then complied. Eliot was certain that their amount of suffering was ten levels higher than his at that moment.

"Nobody mentioned us going to the ceremony," Parker said in a moment of silence.

"We'll get to that part - everything is connected here, and the slaughterhouse will lead us to the PVA, step by step. If you let me speak."

"But I won't have to wear a dress, right?"

"No, Parker, probably not. Now," Nate put one document on the screen, and put the last piece of paper on the table. "This is the last import sheet that sums up the last month. The mine imported five containers of spare truck parts. Hardison was kind enough to dig up something for comparison. Mines of that size, and that size of vehicle fleet, need approximately one container of spare parts for their trucks, for an entire year."

"So, they're smuggling something," Hardison said. "Nothing unusual for a mob. And probably something Chinese." The hacker tilted his head, listening to the quiet sound of rain that was coming through the broken windows. "There's no need to go anywhere tonight. We did our job with the air pollution monitors, and we planted enough cameras all around, and near the ruins to be able to sit here and just watch-"

"We don't have enough time to wait for them to show us something suspicious on their own. We'll have to provoke them to do it, now," Nate shook his head. And then looked at him. "There's also not enough time to complete the 'center of the gravity' plan. We have to take them down separately. One by one."

Well, that was it. Four fucking jobs, when he wasn't able to finish either one. And Nate wasn't the one to blame this time, this decision had nothing to do with his need to beat their opponents. They had to deal with Knudsen before he killed them. This was a win or die situation.

They all fell silent, probably waiting for one more outburst and fight.

Insecure, scared, ruined, terrified… and tired. He let that silence spread for a few more seconds, trying to hide the sinking feeling.

"So," he spoke finally. "Knudsen, the sand excavation camp, Don Lazzara, and C4. In two days? What are you gonna chose for an encore?"

Nate just smirked.

"Are we completely sure that we'll have to deal with Don Lazzara?" Sophie said quietly. Damn, that voice brought back the memory of her fear when she talked to the Italian. The grifter seemed strangely reluctant; any other mark would bring the glint of fight to her eye. The harder the target was, the stronger that fire burned. Now, she seemed only worried. It also reminded him of their talk in the bathroom – she still didn't tell him what was troubling her. "I mean," she went on, "there is a possibility that he doesn't connect Knudsen's latest killing attempt, and its victims, with his suddenly going down."

"Hardly," Nate said.

Sophie now looked at him, with that veil of worry still present over her eyes. "And why aren't you yelling now? He just said we'll have four jobs, the same thing you went berserk over the first time. What changed?"

"No guarantee that Knudsen will buy this police surrounding as long as we need it," he said. "We can't reach Don Lazzara, to take him with his nephew now – and Knudsen has to go before he kills us. It's simple. It would be ideal if we could take Knudsen, Don Lazzara and that mine in one move – but no time for that now. We have to do what we can."

She tilted her head, eyeing him. He allowed himself one shallow sigh. "My recovery has already been interrupted and messed up," he continued. It was better to give her something, than to let her think. "It's better to do everything necessary in two days, and then continue recovering without further messing up, in peace. I can do two days. No matter how fast a pace we work at." Florence turned a little, glancing at him for a second. "But, if this lasts longer, I might go down before the end; there is a line I can stretch my strength to."

"What would Betsy say?"

"She would agree. Ask her. There are only two options. Two days of fast-paced action, followed by ten days of bed. Or, three or four days, and four weeks in bed, at least, just to return myself to this stage of healing." She still didn't look convinced, suspicion clear on her face. "Speeding up, in this case, is good, Soph. I've set myself to function for those two days, and I will do it. That's all you need to know."

Damn it, he was talking too much, again – he should've just growled at her instead of explaining. Whatever she thought about that, she left unsaid, giving only a small nod.

It was time for a break, and also to remind them that he was normal. Relatively speaking. He stood up, checking Orion's position and distance from George, and went into the kitchen for a new bag of ice. The damn thing was very unpleasant, having no practical use except freezing his elbow and moistening his sleeve, but this perceptive bunch scanned everything. He had to give them some reason for his constrained moves.

"And what if we just stop with the Season Six Job, and put all efforts into dealing with the mobsters?" Florence asked, looking even more unhappy than usual. He returned as quickly as he could – her posture was radiating turmoil. He didn't have to see her eyes, glancing back and forth between Nate and Sophie, to know she was wavering, half ready to spill out everything.

"All our efforts are put into dealing with the mobsters – what we do with your network is, for now, just fun," Nate said. "If things change, if I see it's necessary, I might pull the plug – but nothing indicates it for now."

She took one deep breath. "And what if all of this just suddenly…stops? I mean, maybe a small delay would be, be…if we go away and hide somewhere, just for a few days, to buy some more time, that would give us more time for everything, right?"

It was a matter of seconds until Nate simply asked why, and he couldn't be sure she would keep silent. And he couldn't think of anything to say to deflect that.

He looked at them lined up on the sofa – Hardison, Florence and Parker, right in front of him, and opened the bag of ice. It took only three seconds – and he could be pretty fast with his left hand, even in this condition – for one cube of ice to end up under each of their collars.

He pulled back and grinned – jumping, screaming, shrieking and curses exploded in a second. Hardison almost jumped over the coffee table, launching Orion from his lap into the air. The cat, however, managed to land gracefully on the end of the sofa, but then stumbled directly into George. Accidentally, of course. Damn, he was starting to admire that damn beast.

Parker was the first to get rid of the cube, with one twist of her back – in the next second that same cube hit him in the head, followed by the hissed curses. Sophie helped Florence, Hardison caught his cube somewhere around his waist, and he found himself on the receiving end of five mad, shocked and bewildered stares. Okay, Sophie looked as if she was deciding whether or not to laugh or yell, and Nate had that pained 'what did I do to deserve this' expression.

Even Hardison couldn't find words – and that made this priceless, seeing him with mouth open, trying to form any sound, and utterly failing.

He put the bag on his elbow and blinked at them as innocently as he could. "You were sayin'?" he asked Florence politely.

"Gah!" She turned on her heel and moved away. She sat on the armrest of Sophie's chair, as far from him as she could. "Insane," she hissed. Being pissed off suited her much better than being unhappy.

"Always wanted to do that," he grinned at Parker and Hardison; the hacker was shaking his head in consternation, and Parker's gaze had very sharp edges in it.

"I'm delighted to see you in such a good mood, Eliot." Uh-oh, Nate's voice was bleak, every word perfectly enunciated – it calmed Hardison and Parker down in an instant. They sat, cautiously, taking the ends of the sofa, leaving the middle in front of him empty. He erased his grin, remembering that he should be affected by that tone, too. "However," Nate continued, the sharp edge from Parker's eyes creeping into his voice. "I do hope it will continue. What can you tell us about the Type 81 rifle?"

"Not a rifle, a light machine gun." Good, business again. Grinning was tiresome when he had to fake it. "Goon C missed a nice opportunity – that type can fire grenades. Good thing they arranged a cover up and silencer to increase shooting time; grenades are messy and loud. It has been the standard weapon for the PLA – Chinese People's Liberation Army – since the 80s, though the PLA is in the process of replacing the Type 81 with Type 95 and Type 03…" he trailed off when one very disturbing thought formed in his mind.

Hardison reached for his tablet, and quiet clicking was the only sound for a few seconds.

"And how big a number are we talking about?" Nate followed his train of thought, of course.

"Damn. Hundreds of thousands. The PLA is a huge army. This isn't good."

"So, very soon, the country will be swarmed with a cheap, reliable in combat, indestructible weapon which destroyed my apartment in minutes, and it'll be on the streets, free for every criminal?"

"It's not for street shootings, too big – but yes, that's it."

"Legally, you can't buy it in the US," Hardison jumped in. "It's not on the market, the Chinese government doesn't allow the sale yet." He studied his tablet for a second. "Though, in Canada they have a few. Do you want one? Instead of a shotgun?"

"What damn shotg-" Nate took a deep breath and stopped. "They are already here, Hardison."

"Yep, probably," Hardison sighed. "I'll make a few calculations to see how many of them can be packed into the containers, that would give us one solid point in tonight's search. Maybe this shooting was a test drive. Well, Bonnano will be happy with this catch."

"Why don't you just send him all the info you have, without going out tonight?" Florence asked. It seemed that even the ice cube wasn't enough to distract her – yet she got the point. They didn't have any real evidence, just circumstantial, but Bonnano could work on it through all the legal channels. The only problem was – they would be dead before he finished it.

"Because a few suspicions aren't enough for a warrant." Nate shook his head. "We have to have something concrete to tell him, or show him, before we let him take over and put Knudsen behind bars. Don't forget one more important thing – Don Lazzara is deep in all the city functions, and trust me, that includes the police too. The moment Patrick puts his action in motion, he would know it. We will have one chance to strike, just one – and we must not miss."

Hardison chose that moment to put a weather report on one screen, and an old lady cheerfully informed them that heavy rain was expected later in the day, with further decreasing temperatures. She seemed thrilled that they were heading into the eye of one of the nastiest storms in the last two decades. Over the next few days they expected a culmination of the week's constant raining. Hardison turned it off when she started to list warnings for the lower city blocks that were in danger of flooding.

"Nothing better than a veil of rain when you have to sneak up on your enemy," Nate smirked at the hacker. "Now, put the cameras we planted, on all the screens. You'll have to leave everything you're working on, and concentrate just on that. It's essential we don't miss anything."

Well, they were busy in the woods and mud, he had to admit. More than fifteen little screens blinked in front of them, all showing various parts of the slaughterhouse. There were a few too close for his liking – they went too damn close, without him – but the last one made him growl. One recorded the main entrance, from the inside.

"Who-"

"There was no one on site," Nate said. "We checked."

"And what if," Florence started and sighed. "Did I start any sentence today with something besides 'And what if?' I don't think so. Never mind… what if they do nothing? We'll just sit here and watch it, waiting to, maybe, see them doing something suspicious? Well, that might prolong all this just as I asked."

"No, of course not," Nate handed a piece of paper to Sophie. "You weren't paying attention, I told you already that we don't have enough time for that – we have to provoke him into showing us something."

He nodded to Sophie and she took out her phone, arranging her face into a weird smile.

Florence, still sitting on her armrest, moved like she was going to stand up, but Sophie held up her hand, giving her the sign she didn't have to move, while she was waiting for the call to be answered. In any case, Florence had no place on the sofa anymore, Orion had taken the entire middle, taking up more space than Hardison and Parker together, laying on his back and pretending to sleep.

"Good day, Mr. Knudsen, Inspector Olivia Lohman here," Sophie sang in that irritable voice; no wonder he gave her every single paper in his office, just to get rid of her. "I am soooo sorry that our chance for coffee was ruined, but I pushed my department to work just a little faster. Oh, I know, of course I didn't have to do that, I wanted to do it," she giggled, an awful sound, and all of them twitched, even him. "We shall have our inspection of your mine tomorrow, and maybe we could have that coffee then?" It wasn't hard to imagine the expression on Knudsen's face when he heard that, but Sophie didn't give him time to react in any negative way. "That's why I'm calling you, you know… I shouldn't do this, it's completely against our regulations, inspections should be unannounced – but I sped the process up and it's fair to give you a little time to shine your brightest colors tomorrow. No, gorgeous, you don't owe me coffee now – though I expect to see you there tomorrow. I don't usually go on inspections, but I'll be there. To see you."

She listened for a moment, but whatever Knudsen said, it was very short. "Of course, you too. Bye." She smiled, putting the phone down.

However, Eliot wasn't sure, but he felt that something was missing in Sophie's performance, as if she was just doing a job that had to be done, nothing more. Yep, that was it – he didn't sense any enjoyment in improvising, this time.

"Knudsen has a mine full of smuggled weapons, and an inspection some time tomorrow," Nate glanced at his watch. "It can be early in the morning, or late in the afternoon, he can't know. And now we shall see where and what he is hiding, because he will show us when he pushes all his men to hide all traces. Timing is essential - not too much time, or too little to react." He observed the little screens for a few seconds, then went on. "Of course, if there is something hidden in that slaughterhouse. Maybe the new road was just tax-deductible."

"You won't tell me, again, what are you going to do tomorrow?" Florence said.

"No."

"Not even how this," she waved her hand to the screens, "can take both Knudsen and his mine down? Because if he is arrested for weapons trafficking, the mine will not be affected. You don't shut a factory if the owner beat up his wife, Nate, not even if he did it in the factory. And that slaughterhouse is maybe his property, but not part of the mine."

"I am aware of that." Nate collected all the papers from the table, a clear sign the briefing was over, but she didn't get the message. "If you're not busy with articles, can you talk with Sophie about the sponsors of your show? She has a few ideas, but needs more info."

"Yeah, I can," she sighed, giving up.

"Okay. Hardison, keep your eyes on the cameras – Parker, you can help him, if you want to take a break from calling networks. Eliot? Facebook?"

"Busy, the action has started, and only two towns reported delays," he said. It was time to return to the bed and voting, but he decided to sit here until they all dispersed. No bag of ice would help if he swayed after sitting for a short time.

He changed his mind almost immediately, because nobody moved. If he stayed here, that would draw attention to him, not the swaying. Hardison and Parker weren't the problem, both occupied with the screens and had their backs to him, Nate was going through the papers again, but Sophie and Florence were facing him. And looking at him.

Not only did he have to get up, he also had to take George with him; leaving him here, just a few feet from the lurking beast, was out of the question. He stood up, feeling, literally, the color draining from his face – if he had any at all.

"Do you plan to continue watching the episodes, and how? Taking one screen from Hardison's cameras, or on your laptop?" Florence's quick questions caught him in the middle of the move, and he knew why she had done it.

Sophie eyed him, waiting for his reply – and he was too occupied with suppressing the pain to talk – so he just tilted his head as if thinking.

"After you're done," he finally managed to say, taking George; slow moves should cover up swaying.

"We have to start with the fourth season, or we won't finish it on time," she continued. Her voice had a tense note, different from the tone she talked with before and that drew Nate's attention, he glanced at them over the papers.

"There is enough time for everything." He had to say it, though he knew it wasn't wise to stay here, to prolong this before their eyes. "Watching the episodes - it's only a matter of the distribution of that time. If you know why you're doing it, you can do everything."

"Oh, isn't it a nice feeling to be on the receiving end of an undercurrent in the room," Sophie softly said.

"Is it?" Florence smiled, a brief, sad smile that vanished in a second. When she looked at him again, her eyes were still reflecting it. "Do you know what the main theme of the fourth season is, Eliot?"

That was the first time she said his name.

"A long way down," she whispered. "The main theme is Consequences."

George froze.

He turned around, without answering, and went to the bed.