Chapter 51

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"Hardison, this interview with Don Lazzara… was it live or did you record it?" Eliot asked in the dull silence that fell over the room after Hardison took Don Lazzara's face off of the screens.

"Recorded… was in the news about two hours ago."

Hardison didn't ask why he was asking, he didn't have to; if Don Lazzara had started his engines already, they were sitting ducks.

"Are we leaving?" Eliot looked at Nate who was looking somewhere between Hardison and Florence. Probably at the wall. "A few cops coming to McRory's for that free drink from time to time could mean something to Knudsen, but they ain't enough against Don Lazzara."

"You're right, they aren't," Nate nodded, with the same absent look. "We need much more."

Eliot said nothing more, knowing that Nate was working fast on solving the problem.

"You said that all your safe houses had been compromised," said Florence. "Where can we go?"

"If we decide to go, it won't be a problem thinking of something – but we shall look at other options first. Hardison would need half a day just to set his working console up."

"If I may suggest something… I used it in one episode…" Florence said, hesitating. "Hardison can find all the apartments and houses Don Lazzara possess, and we can break into one, and move into the place he would never expect to find us."

"With a cat and a plant?" A quick smirk flew over Nate's face. "Good thing you used it before… because I would start to worry if I were you, if you just now came up with that."

"You don't have a monopoly over criminal thinking," she smiled at him.

And that smile was strange. All of them were visibly worried, even Parker was silent; they knew what they were facing. But only Florence didn't look upset by the news.

"Why are you so cheerful?" Eliot asked her directly.

"I was expecting some plot twist, this is the perfect place for it," she shrugged, still smiling, but she seemed unable to meet his eyes. "If I was writing this as an episode, I would now seriously raise the stakes. And this, no matter how nasty it is to have Don Lazzara after us, something we tried to avoid from the beginning, is much better than all the shit that went through my mind."

He tried to stop himself, but it was a futile attempt. "Something to share with us?"

"Oh, nothing big," she smiled again, watching him now, and all of them, with attentive eyes. "Just a betrayal of epic proportions."

Shit, he knew she suspected something… and he knew all the trouble that could arise from that. Nate didn't share with them anything further about Florence being the mark here, and not Brewer, but he had a feeling it wasn't something she would approve or be happy with, in the end.

"Oh, I thought you were the only one paranoid here, Eliot," Sophie said with a smile that matched Nate's.

Florence's smile faded. "I'm not paranoid, my worries are real, and I have proof."

"Don Lazzara is more important," Nate said. "But okay, he can wait a few minutes. What's wrong, Florence? Who would betray who, and why?"

The bastard managed to say that in an absolutely normal tone.

"It already happened," her voice fell. She hunched in her shoulders the same way she did during the first few days, before she accepted them as they were… and then she looked directly at him. Her eyes were hurt. "May I have my cat back?"

What? He looked at Orion sleeping in his lap, peacefully curled up.

Sophie's soft chuckle didn't help. "Oh, dear, first you came up with moving into Don Lazzara's apartment, and then you grifted him… very soon your episodes will be-"

"She didn't gr-"

"But she did… she distracted you with something else, at the same time watching our reactions. It was standard fishing with a twist. Well done, dear. It's okay not to trust us completely. In fact, I strongly suggest you continue questioning everything you hear or see."

"Great, Sophie, do encourage her," he growled because it was expected from him. Florence smiled because that was expected from her.

But they all knew she did this to provoke their reactions, to see if her suspicions were justified, and that left a very unpleasant feeling in his stomach. He got up, giving her Orion with a ceremonial bow.

"Thank you." She hugged the sleepy cat. "And for your information, I talked with George while you were sleeping. He likes me. So we're even."

He squinted, but he had enough mind left to say nothing to that.

Nate was squinting, too. "Hardison," he said with a pained voice. "How long it will take to hack into the Boston Police department? Their employee records, and internal email?"

"They are already on my list of assessed things… once you open a door you need, you don't have to break in every time, just use the spare key you created. No traces, of course. Their computer division is good, but they ain't-"

"Okay, I need you to find me officers who have birthday today and tomorrow. Two will do, we don't have too much space. If there are more, choose the two with a lot of contacts. Get into their internal email and send their circle an invitation to a surprise party at McRory's, invite as many as you can. Starting in two hours. It will be almost evening by then. One celebration in the main room of McRory's, the other one in the back rooms, in the poker back room. That way the back entrance to the building is covered. Call a few catering agencies and arrange several booths with free food and drinks on the street, between McRory's front door and the building's entrance, to cover the front gate to the fort."

Hardison stared at Nate. "No problem. Do you want me to get Bruce Springsteen to sing to them?"

"C'mon, you can do it. The three of you won't leave the apartment before we gather a huge police crowd all around, so you can start working as well. Parker, finish the blueprints, Sophie, get on that sponsor thing finally, Eliot and Florence… where are you with your episodes?"

"Starting the fifth season," he said. "But not yet, I have a few ideas for my Legion… and the voting is still on."

"And what are you going to do?" Hardison hissed.

"Think," Nate smirked, returning to the dining table. He opened his laptop again.

Parker moved just a little, pulling the papers in front of her again, and Hardison dove into his laptop with the face of a martyr.

Florence watched Sophie with clear concern in her eyes. "Erm, Sophie, maybe it will be wise to help you with the sponsor thingy… it was confusing you the last time we talked, even Hyundai."

"By all means… I'm helplessly lost with that concept."

Florence went to get the lists of sponsors, and Eliot had enough time to glance at George, suspiciously, while picking him up to take with him.

This time, George was unreadable to him. And silent.

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Eliot sat in the bed with pillows piled behind his back, and he was looking directly at the sofa and the screens on the wall. Parker was the only one he couldn't see, she was lower than the sofa's backrest. Florence and Sophie were visible. They sat facing each other.

He opened his Facebook group, but he watched Sophie. Maybe he should try to speak with her now, while he was relatively well. He couldn't tell how Nate didn't notice that something was bothering her. But, on the other hand, Nate hadn't been in the bathroom with them, he didn't see her in that moment of strange insecurity and worry. Without that, her behavior could be seen as worry because of the jobs, nothing more. But that insecurity was dangerous. A grifter couldn't allow herself to waver; especially not this grifter. Not now.

And what was that with the sponsor problems? He had seen her going through dozens of pages of info for her roles, and no matter how complicated it was, she never had trouble understanding anything.

He sighed and closed his eyes, but enjoyed the darkness for only a few seconds. It would only take a minute to put him to sleep again. His fever was still lowered, and the painkillers were working, finally, but it brought a relaxed feeling that he couldn't allow himself now. Hardison was working at a frantic speed, arranging, hacking, ordering, and before they saw the results of Nate's gathering police around them, he couldn't even think of sleeping.

He listened to Florence's explanation of the sponsorship process, at the same time entering his Supernatural group under a fake account. Not only did he have a real one, now he was making false ones, all by himself. Gruesome feeling. It took only a few seconds to find images from last year's PVA ceremony, to remind himself of the names of the two guys he was looking for. Sam and Dean.

The PVA voting would end some time tomorrow, before the ceremony, and there wasn't enough time to attack on all fronts. But he could do some really nasty shit on the SpoiledTV voting, and remove Supernatural from the race, leaving Castle as the only dangerous opponent.

He spent a few minutes creating a few more accounts – when shit started, the admins wouldn't have time to look at the join date, too busy with the trouble. Even if they found out that the fire was started intentionally, it would be too hard to stop it in time.

He had everything prepared just as Florence finished with the theoretical part. Sophie was listening to her with immense concentration, and it seemed… No. He looked again. Sophie was having fun. Her smile was light and gentle as always, but Florence clearly couldn't decipher that the grifter was enjoying this, for whatever reason.

"Do you have any questions?" Florence asked, sounding pretty disheartened.

"So…" Sophie took her papers and glanced at the numbers. "I'm a company, and I'm willing to pay so your audience will see my logo and because they love the show, buy my products? And I have no idea how many of them actually did that. I'm blindly putting my money into something that might be completely useless."

"That's why they use Nielsen-" they both turned their heads at the same time, glancing at him. He rolled his eyes instead of answering, and pretended to be looking at his screen. But he was studying Sophie, a barely visible glint in her eye. "-to tell them how many grown-ups are watching," Florence continued. "Financial solvency is the key to this."

"It's like telemarketing," Sophie huffed with disdain. "Like selling bloody cable."

"Pretty much, yes. If you want a sponsor, you have to call, and nag, and beg, and sell your show on empty numbers, and convince them their sales will jump sky high, which you can't guarantee, and you depend on the good will of some low manager who might be having a bad day and decide to give money to some reality show because housewives-" Florence bit her lip and stopped. "That's how it goes."

"Stupid and inefficient?"

"There's no other way."

"Ah," Sophie tapped her lip with one finger. Her eyes were even brighter than usual, and Eliot stopped pretending he wasn't listening and watching them. Even Hardison looked at them every fifteen seconds, during pauses in typing.

"There isn't, Sophie," Florence said carefully. "Look, we can start small, okay? You know what you can do? We'll find some small store, maybe one here, on our block… It isn't important what is it – groceries, bakery… any small business will do. You call them and offer them a sponsorship for a famous show. Then you'll see how it goes."

Sophie's eyebrows went up. "A grocery store? Seriously?" She turned to Hardison. "You found me the numbers we were talked about?"

"In your phone," Hardison grinned. "Though, I couldn't find anyone higher than a low manager at Samsung, I didn't have time for real hacking."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I'll call Lee Kun–hee directly."

Hardison swallowed. "The group's chairman?"

"And how do you think you got that Prototype Seven last Christmas?" Sophie winked at him and pulled out her phone.

Eliot knew what would happen when she tilted her head and straightened her back in a familiar way. "This is Alison Hastings, BBC Director of News and Current Affairs," she said with an obnoxiously precise British accent, "and I have to speak with Mr. Schiller now." As always, it gave her voice power, even stronger than usual.

"What are you doing?" Florence whispered, alarmed. "You can't just call Samsung!"

Sophie covered the phone with her hand and smiled at her. "Oh, I'm not, dear. I'm calling Apple."

Florence eeped quietly, but Sophie hushed her with a wave of her hand.

"Good day, Mr. Schiller. I have some disturbing news. I know you are just the Senior Vice President of Apple, but you are in charge of worldwide marketing, and there are some issues we have to discuss immediately. BBC Trust demands to know, Mr. Schiller, why Samsung is sponsoring The Magnificent Seven: The Next generation, with the largest amount of money seen up to this point, and how come BBC had that super-secret information, and Apple didn't? I spoke with my colleagues and we all share the same concern, regarding our shares in Apple. How could you allow Samsung to get one step ahead of you, again? Your maps weren't enough? What's going on?" She listened for a few seconds with a cold smile. "I understand completely. Well, when you find out, let us know. I'm not eager to tell my colleagues that it seems that Samsung is becoming trickier every day. You are aware that we won't be able to hold this information for too long, and you have very little time to react? Find out what's going on. Thank you."

She hit another number, and her smile grew warm. "Good morning, Lee," she purred. "You remember I owe you one? Well, I have information that might interest you… Apple." She chuckled softly. "Yes, I thought you might be interested… Check your channels and do it quickly. The grapevine is saying that Apple is running a race, to catch a sponsorship with the hottest news today, The Magnificent Seven. They are planning to do it before you, and brag about it endlessly. I thought you might want to get even for that million you had to pay them… yes, exactly. Kiss kiss."

Sophie put her phone down, and tapped Florence's hand. "When you sell something dear," she said, "You have to make them want to buy it. You push them, but if you do it the right way, they'll continue on their own, sure that it was their idea from the beginning, and the harder they have to work to buy it, the stronger that conviction is. It's very simple, in fact."

"Sophie, you just pushed Apple and Samsung in the fight about M7…"

"No, I just pushed M7 into their existing fight. If you can't create a conflict, use the existing one. And, now, let's see, what do we have here…." Sophie went through her contacts, searching the menu, and Eliot watched Florence. She still looked perplexed – he thought she had gotten used to things like this by now.

He glanced at Nate, to see what he thought about this, but Nate wasn't paying any attention to the group on the sofa. He was typing again.

"Guten Tag," Sophie said softly this time, but letting her Oxford pronunciation come through the words. "This is Alison Hastings, BBC Director of News and Current Affairs." She waited, listening to the response, smiling all the way. "Of course it isn't common for BBC directors call you, but that, if nothing, should show you the seriousness of this matter. We need your statement – unofficially – so we can see how to make public a very sensitive matter. You are aware that your dearest competition is planning to use your vehicles as burning wrecks in five episodes of the series The Magnificent Seven: The Next Generation, while the main actors will drive their cars and win every car chase?" Sophie moved the phone a few centimeters away, frowning – the reply must've been very loud. "Yes, now you see why a director is calling you – it's not something we can make public without a thorough investigation. And yes, I agree it's unheard of. Unofficially, they won't show your logo, of course, but your cars are very… recognizable, and even as car wrecks, your limos will be noticed. For now, it's not signed yet, they are still negotiating with the writers and producers, but I can tell you for sure – whoever wins the sponsorship will be able to gain an advantage. No problem, I can wait until you talk with your Board of Directors. Have a nice day."

By the end of her speech, Florence was covering her face with one hand, but now she peeked through her fingers. "Guten Tag? Don't tell me," she said. "You called Mercedes Benz?"

"Oh, no, that would be too much for the introduction," Sophie shook her head. "I called BMW," she ended with a grin. Then she clicked on her phone again, dialing another number. "This is Mercedes."

Eliot stopped his own grin, wondering how many lessons Florence would be able to swallow before all this finished. Knowing Sophie, she started with the easy targets… and she didn't look like she was about to stop.

Well, he had his own business to take care of, so he tuned her voice out, and opened a new post in the Supernatural group.

He paused a second, and then wrote: I was thinking about one particular problem

Nate was still typing.