Chapter 5
How to Make Friends and Influence People
"We're back," announced Angel as he entered the lobby of the hotel he called home. No one responded. Cordelia was in the back searching the Internet for any local news that might provide a clue (and seeing whether or not the new Nordstrom shoe line was available yet). Gunn and Mac, in the meantime, were quietly discussing the various sources of illegal arms available in L.A. Wesley was searching through his books for information on the Kri-kites.
Angel turned back to Kate rather apologetically. "I'm sure they're just absorbed in really, really important things."
Wesley emerged from the office carrying a large, mildewy volume. "I believe I may have found the information we need," he was saying to no one in particular. "Oh, hello Angel, Kate," he said. "Everyone, Angel and Kate are back," he called out.
The others looked up from their various tasks and came out to the lobby. Angel and Kate walked down stairs. "Isn't that what I just said?" Angel muttered quietly out the side of his mouth. "So," he said, "it sounds like you found some clues."
"We found a mattress," said Gunn, obviously not impressed with the results of their investigation.
"Really? That's great!" said Angel, brightening. The others were obviously lost. "Cause we're missing a mattress," he responded when he saw the incredulous stares from the others.
"Fascinating," said Wesley.
It took several minutes of coordination, but eventually they were all arranged in the lobby in a manner conducive to sharing their findings. Angel and Kate went first, explaining what they had learned from Ben at the prison. Then Wesley explained what they had found, and MacKenzie supplied the assessment that it was definitely a military operation, but that he couldn't be sure it was Sheffield.
"So, what are the odds that the mattress in the demon lair is the one missing from Faith's cell?" Kate asked.
"Well, it's not like there aren't a lot of old mattresses floating around that the homeless people are using," Gunn commented, then slapped his head dramatically. "Oh wait, there's only about a billion of them in L.A. My mistake." The sarcasm was plainly evident.
"The issue is not the presence of the mattress," said Wesley in his best schoolmaster tone. In truth, his parents often thought that he'd grow up to be a schoolmaster. His Father was fairly sure that it would be at a second rate prep school, or even worse over in 'the colonies'. Wesley tried not to think about it, though. "The issue is the location of the mattress – on top of the sacred circle. I can determine only one explanation for that."
Everyone waited expectantly. When nothing more was forthcoming, Angel prompted. "Wes," he motioned with his hands for Wes to hurry up.
"It's the reference on the Kri-kite," Wes continued, realizing that everyone had been waiting for him. "When a female matures, which is rare, they develop a rudimentary intelligence and magical power. But the magic is not sophisticated – it is primal. It is an ability to manipulate natural powers and connections; to rebalance the mystical connections in space." He looked at everyone, obviously finished with his explanation.
"Wesley," said Cordelia after determining that he thought he was done, "please connect the dots for we mortals." She smiled a shining bright set of pearly whites at him. "Before we have to beat it out of you," she muttered through the grin.
"Portals," he replied. When they still didn't seem to get it, he huffed in exasperation. "The Kri-kite matriarchs can open and manipulate portals."
"That's how they got Faith out," said Angel slowly, the meaning of Wesley's information dawning on him. "They opened a portal and pulled her out."
"More like they opened a portal below her, and gravity did the rest," corrected Wesley.
"That explains the mattress," Gunn said.
"But why would the demons do that?" Cordelia asked. "And how did the soldiers know they were going to do that?"
"They made them do it," said Mac. "They came in fast and hard, guns drawn. They probably popped one of 'em as a lesson to the others. Then they made her open the portal, retrieved Faith, and eliminated the evidence."
"Maybe it's just me," said Cordelia, raising her hand, "but there was way too much confidence in that explanation."
"No offense, bro," said Gunn, shaking his head, "but that is scary the way you say that." He looked over at Mac, his eyes boring into the Scotsman. "How do you know all that?"
Mac looked at Kate meaningfully. Kate rolled her eyes and looked at Angel. "What is going on here? Who is this man?" she demanded.
"Tell her," ordered Angel.
Mac nodded. He looked around at everyone, deciding whether or not to trust the new addition to the team. Taking a deep breath, Mac looked at Kate. "I'm Captain MacKenzie of the Royal Air Force, Special Air Service. I'm part of a covert commando team operating in California. The leader of the team is Major Sheffield, and I am convinced that he has been corrupted by evil. He is acting under the direction of a rogue group in the Watchers' Council.
"We were sent originally to watch and support the Slayer. But it turned out that the real mission was to support her in the assassination of a U.S. congressman. I broke from the team, and helped the Slayer stop them from completing the assassination. However, the whole purpose behind the mission in the first place was to eliminate any obstacles to the Watchers' Council getting hold of Faith. With the failure of the mission goals, a separate mission profile went into effect.
"The secondary mission profile was to acquire Faith – at any price. And it appears that they have succeeded."
Kate whistled. She turned to Angel. "You don't play with the small fish, do you?" Angel shrugged. He really didn't know what to say. She turned to Mac. "What do they want with Faith?" she demanded.
"If we knew that," Mac responded, "then we'd be a whole lot further ahead than we are now. But I do know that it can't be good."
Kate looked at Angel and tilted her head towards the office. He shrugged, but she waggled her eyebrows insistently. Angel turned to Mac, who simply nodded. It was obvious that she wanted to discuss this privately.
Angel and Kate got up. "Go check out the arms dealers," Angel said as he followed Kate to the office. Mac looked at Gunn, who nodded. The two of them got up and left as Angel closed the office door.
* * *
"Hey Charlie Gunn, how you be?" said a nondescript man in greasy overalls working at a junkyard. "Been a while since I seen you. Whatchou be needin?" He smiled at Gunn, but his eyes drifted suspiciously over to Mac, who sat silently in Gunn's truck.
Gunn looked at the man casually, all bravado. He jerked his head towards the truck. "You looking at him?" he asked in challenge. "Don't be lookin' at him. I'm here, you better be lookin' at me. Understand?" Gunn was a street tough, and he understood the need to maintain control.
"Who's your friend?' the other man said.
"Business," replied Gunn.
"Does Mr. Business have a first name?" asked the man in the overalls.
"Yeah," replied Gunn. "None-of-your-damn." He gestured expansively to the passenger's seat. "That's Mr. None-of-your-damn Business. Now, do I need to take my business someplace else?"
"No, no," said the contact. "There's just been rumors that you're running in a more respectable crowd."
"Well, even respectable crowds need firepower occasionally," Gunn replied. Gunn snapped his fingers in the man's face to get his attention. "Are you following me? Do I need to repeat myself?" The man snapped his attention back to Gunn.
The greasy man had a lot of names over the years, and even more locations that he had operated out of. Somehow, the street always knew where to find him. Gunn was a regular customer, getting weapons that he used to fight the demons that constantly try to infiltrate the neighborhoods he protected.
The man with no name looked at Gunn, assessing him as he did all his customers. Gunn wasn't sure whether or not the man was psychic. He hoped not, because and Mac weren't really interested in buying weapons. They were trying to track down the supplier who had sold Sheffield the weapons they used against the Kri-kite.
They were starting with Gunn's regular suppliers and hoping to work their way up the "food chain" from there. However, it would only work if the suppliers believed that they were actually buying. Gunn had to keep his thoughts focused.
The man with no name finally nodded. "Did you bring cash?"
"Only if you have the have the merchandise I need," Gunn responded challengingly. "And I'm not talking about no piss-ant vampire killing crossbows. I need some heavy-duty hardware."
The greasy hands fidgeted for a moment. He looked again over at Mac in the truck, and then back at Gunn. "What you into, boy?" he asked.
"Nothing I can't handle," Gunn replied.
"You lookin' for guns?" the man asked.
"Demolitions," Gunn responded. "Directional, anti-personnel and untraceable. Preferably Russian."
"That's a little beyond my expertise," came the response. "You sure you got cash?" he asked again.
"Give me a name," Gunn responded, "and I'll take care of the rest." He waited a moment, and then held up a small wad of bills. The greasy man reached for them, but Gunn snatched them away and stared.
"Guy by the name of Dietrich," the man said finally. "Pool hall on West 95th. Knock twice. Password is 'Dasvidania.'" He snatched the money and turned his back on Gunn. "And don't blame me for what happens," he added.
Gunn returned to the truck and sped off.
* * *
"Kate," said Angel, attempting to placate her, "I think you're blowing this all out of proportion."
"Proportion?" she yelled well into a full fledged fury. "Angel, we have a covert commando team operating in L.A. and blowing up its residents with …" she sputtered searching for the term.
"Incendiary demolitions?" Angel supplied helpfully.
"No! Impunity." she grunted, throwing up her hands. "Don't you understand how big a deal this is?" She put one hand on her hip and stared at him.
"Well it's not like it's the first time," he answered. He was making reference to the watcher assault team that had originally come to L.A. to kill Faith. That was the incident that had led to her capture. At the time, Faith had been hired by Wolfram and Hart to kill Angel. A lot had changed since then.
However, the vision of black helicopters and men operating above the law in her city was one which was particularly disturbing to Kate. She had sworn to serve and protect Los Angeles. She had carried that across all kinds of foes – human and demonic. She had stood up to creatures that most of her colleagues didn't even believe existed. She had faced them all unflinchingly.
But commando teams were something different. They weren't boogy men brought up from childhood that could be faced – and killed – with the dispassion of the adult mind. Demons were something that she could face with aplomb because she had been afraid of them as a child, and as such had relegated them to the realm of all childhood fears.
Commando teams operating on covert missions, however, were the boogy men of adult law enforcement agents. They were the superhumans that everyone aspired to be, and therefore what everyone feared. They were something that sent chills down her spine because she understood them, their capabilities, and their methods – and she knew them to be beyond her own. Vampires and demons she could face in ignorance or denial, either one being good enough to let her kill them. This was something altogether different.
Angel was right on one account, though. This wasn't the first time that these teams had operated on 'her watch' in Los Angeles. Two other times she had encountered something like this. One was the watcher team that had attempted to take Faith the first time. That had hardly been noteworthy, given the level of damage that had been done. The other case had been far more sinister.
Kate still had the nightmares sometimes. She would wake up seeing the bodies still before her, hearing the gunfire and knowing that the ship she was in had been booby trapped by experts. She could still hear the shouts of her fellow officers who had fallen to those traps, and the cold trickle of sweat as she realized that she had walked into the sights of a trained killer. To this day she didn't know why he didn't squeeze the trigger, only that she had survived that incident – and that it had been buried at the polite request of the U.S. State Department.
Now she was facing it yet again, and the only person they had to rely on was a foreigner whom they had known for less than a day. Kate was normally not too accepting of people to begin with. This was asking way too much.
"Do you think we can trust him?" she asked at last, desperately searching for a lifeline of reassurance.
* * *
"Do you think we can trust him?" asked Gunn, as Mac led the way into the pool hall. One look around would tell the trained eye that this was more than a typical punk front.
The appearance of the place was a study in ideal low-income degeneration. Too ideal, to Mac's perception. Here and there were high-tech cameras. The men strategically placed looked too much in control. And for those who could tell such things, the bulges in their jackets were top-of-the-line weapons.
Mac shrugged. "He'll lie to us, try to cheat us, and then try to kill us," he whispered to Gunn. "So given that we know what we're getting into, I'd say we can trust him just fine." He smiled. Gunn didn't.
After making a few discrete inquiries, they were shown to a back room. Inside was a long conference table with chairs at each end, but none in the middle. Once inside, they were wanded down with portable metal detectors, and then left to wait. Gunn stared at his surroundings, nervous but too concerned with his reputation to display it. MacKenzie sat quietly in one of the chairs closest to them.
Moments later, a side door opened and Dietrich came in. There was no question as to who he was – the deference shown to him by the others was unmistakable. He sat down opposite Mac with his body guards forming a circle around them. Gunn was forced into a seat with a stare.
Dietrich puffed on a cigar, letting the silence lengthen uncomfortably between them. Mac, however, was not about to rise to the bait. He simply sat, waiting for the interview to begin. Gunn followed his example – not that he would've been allowed to speak anyway.
At long last, the arms supplier looked at MacKenzie. "You're interested in some heavy fire power, no?" he asked nonchalantly. "I, of course, wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing. But assuming I did, what would you be interested in?"
Mac drew out the small chip of metal he had retrieved from the demon lair, the one from the fire bomb. He held it up so that Dietrich could see it, recognize it, and begin to become nervous about it. After a long moment, he put it down on the table between them.
"I'd like to know who bought this from you, and where did you deliver it to?" Mac asked without preamble. "And I like to find them without them finding me," he added with a shrug.
Dietrich didn't look at or touch the piece Mac had laid out for them. He simply shook his head at the two of them. "You have big brass ones, that's for sure," he said, laughing mirthlessly. "Just who do you think you are?"
"That's the wrong question to ask," replied Mac calmly.
"Oh?" replied Dietrich. He looked around at his henchman. "I don't think that's the wrong question to ask. Do you guys think that's the wrong question to ask?" They all shook their heads. "Well, I don't think it's the wrong question, and they don't think it's the wrong question. But let's assume that we are all of us wrong for a moment, and you are correct. What then, is the right question to ask, do you think?" His face turned very, very serious. The challenge in his eyes was deadly.
"The question you should be asking," Mac said calmly, "is that if you're metal detector missed that little bit right there," he said, indicating the bomb fragment, "then what else did it miss?"
Dietrich's eyes went wide as the import of that statement dawned on him. As he began to rise, Mac pulled an object out of his jacket pocket and slid it towards their host. He held up the grenade pin as it spun towards the other end of the table.
That's when all hell broke loose.
* * *
Mac used the communicator to signal Angel. "Uh, hello," came the response on the other end.
"Cordy this is Mac," MacKenzie replied. "We have our arms dealer, where would Angel like to meet us?"
"Let me check," Codelia replied. Mac glanced through the rear window into the back of Gunn's pickup truck where Dietrich lay, bound and gagged. Gunn was sporting a bruise on his left cheek, but other than that they had come through the encounter unscathed. The same could not be said for the mobsters, who were unprepared for the flash-bang Mac had sent down the table. The grenade rendered them incapacitated long enough for Mac to draw his tranquilizer pistol and shoot them all.
Mac's quick thinking had kept Gunn from becoming another victim of the grenade. In a single, swift move, he had grabbed Gunn and shoved him to the ground, which was the source of Gunn's bruise. Together, they had extracted Dietrich.
"Mac?" came a query on the device. It was Angel.
"Go ahead," MacKenzie replied.
"Tell Gunn to meet us at Caritas," he said.
"Got it," replied MacKenzie. "See you there. MacKenzie out."
"Angel … uh … out," came the fumbled response.
"Caritas, got it," said Gunn without prompting. "This ought to be good."
"He's not very good with technology," Mac observed.
"You oughta see him try to pick up his voicemail," Gunn replied.
Across town, Angel looked over at Kate. "Lorne will be able to tell us if we can trust him. Will that be good enough?"
"It'll have to be," Kate replied.