Elser slowly paced around the lobby, hands behind his back, a scowl across the raccoon's otherwise pleasant facial features. Anton and Doonigan had found a plush couch to sit on, and Anton fought the urge to dump his ashes behind the black leather and before the wall.
"I hate being first," Elser muttered softly to himself. Jerry wasn't even there, and Elser had always thought of him as the type to show up a few minutes early. He read the large ornate clock on the wall. Nine-oh-five. Damn, he thought. His musings were disturbed when someone crossed his field of view. The tall, skinny rat with gray fur and a gold tooth (which he displayed with a perpetual grin) was peering into the restaurant.
"Larson?" Elser asked, approaching. Kerry Larson turned his head and simultaneously pressed down the lapels of his black suit, his silver ring standing out against his black shirt and black tie.
"John, you son of a bitch," Larson held out his hand, but changed his stance when Elser embraced him in a friendly hug.
"Been too long, aye?" Elser said after taking a step back to maintain his heterosexuality.
"Yes, it has," was the reply. "Word around the campfire said you were dead. I didn'a think so, but after we didn'a hear from ye for a while, we feared the worst!" Elser turned and began to walk slowly, making sure Larson stayed in step as he did.
"Well, it got hairy at some points, but we came through okay. We got the currency to pay off Aleksyevna."
"Good, good. I take it you've linked up with Anton, then." Elser pointed to the couch.
"He's right over there."
"Ah," Larson said, jamming his hands into his pants' pockets. "Good bloke, that one. You know he used to work with Continuity before he joined up?" Elser pulled his head back on his shoulders and exhaled in surprise.
"No, I didn't. What made him change philosophy?" Larson's smile faded and he shook his head slowly.
"His mother was touring North, when a police raid on the hotel she was staying at got her killed. The official report said 'stray bullets' from the drug pushers next door, but, in reality, Soca just botched everything and charged into the wrong room."
"Sad, but not really anyone's fault," John mused.
"Well, he was young and angry. Besides," Larson began grinning again, "we got a good chap out of it, aye?"
"Aye, aye." Elser looked around, expecting more of the Sapphire crew to show up. "So, how's your team doing? You've already seen what's left of mine."
"Well enough, I suppose," Larson said, shrugging. "We had a falling out with the Soho twins a few weeks ago, and we've been light since, but the rest of us are okay."
"The Soho twins? Those three mouses that think they're Scottish?" Elser laughed to himself. "What happened?"
"Oh," Larson flicked his wrist in the air, "They wanted to hijack a plane or something. Wasn't worth our time. We were busy setting up the routes for the goods. Speaking of—where's Abercrombie? I didn't see him around? He didn't 'get it', did he?" Elser stiffened with the mention of the name. He thought inwardly for a moment. Abercrombie? He thought back a bit. The Greyhound had introduced himself as Abercrombie, but it seemed his name had… changed.
"No, he's not dead, and you sure it was Abercrombie?" Elser asked, looking at the gray rat. "I've been calling him Abernathy." Larson's ears picked up and pivoted to better hear the words.
"Uh, yes. I'm rather sure of it. It's like the clothing store; Abercrombie." Elser shook his head.
"No, I'm sure he said his name was Abernathy. He said it when we introduced him to Anton." Larson scratched his thin thoughtfully.
"Are you sure?"
"Aye," was the slow reply.
"Are you very, very sure?" Larson turned his whole body to face Elser. John realized where Larson's train of thought had led him.
"No," Elser said slowly. "He can't be! I mean, he just wasted some lad a few days ago. If he was a—then he wouldn't…"
"They go pretty far," Larson said matter-of-factly. "Very, very deep." He sighed deeply. "You ever see Reservoir Dogs?"
"No," Elser said, not thinking about movies at all.
"Very applicable," Larson said. Elser was thinking of the Belgium robbery. How the hell had the cops gotten there so fast? They were ready for war, and three of his men got killed.
"Ethan," Elser groaned, if that even was Ab-whatever's real name. He could feel the Glock in his armpit holster. His breathing quickened.
"Oy," Larson exclaimed, noticing the telltale signs of rage. "Take it easy, I might be wrong."
Jerry's timing couldn't have been worse. He slowly inhaled through his thick brown cigar and gently scratched under the bandage that covered the cut on the bridge of his broken nose, given to him by Elser in the garage three days ago. He spotted Elser and Larson from the rear, wearing their all-black suits as instructed. Reliable, Jerry thought. He liked that. Shame his other self wasn't so.
"Boys," Jerry greeted warmly, holding his arms out to the side and smiling. Elser turned around and saw Ethan grinning like an idiot.
"You bastard," John cursed.
"John! No!" Larson reached to grab Elser by the shoulder, but was too late. John grabbed Ethan by the lapels and held him fast.
"Who are you?" Elser demanded, shaking the Greyhound for effect. Jerry stared coolly back into John's eyes and scoffed.
"Who the fuck do you think I am?"
"I think you're a goddamned traitor! You work for the English, don't you! You sold us out, didn't you!" Elser continued to yank on Jerry's suit jacket. Jerry rolled his eyes and placed a hand on Elser's paw. He grabbed it and twisted his grip loose, continuing to rotate the arm, forcing John to let go completely, spin around and fall to his knee, to avoid having his elbow broken.
"Tisk, tisk, John," Jerry said. He let go. "You know better than to play rough with your betters. Sloppy men meet sloppy ends. Don't be a sloppy man." He motioned to the other people in the lobby to punctuate his statement. Elser stood, scowling and massaging his arm.
"You a cop?" Elser asked bluntly. Jerry threw his head back and laughed, his whole body shaking. He wiped an invisible tear from his eye and held his cigar up to his mouth.
"You can think that if you want, but it won't make you any richer." He strolled past, toward the restaurant. "Our table ready?"
"No, Jerry hasn't arrived yet," Elser growled.
"Well, if that's the case, he'll never show," Jerry chuckled. "If standing in the lobby isn't close enough, then I'm not sure what is." Larson looked around, his face locked in an expression of confusion.
"I don't see him," Larson said. Jerry continued to laugh.
They don't get it. Jerry slowly turned around and faced Larson. "Für Liebe und Ehre." Larson's ears went flat against his head. Elser looked at Ethan, then Larson, and then Ethan.
"For love and honor?" he asked. Ethan turned then to John.
"Für Vertrauen und Opfer." It was John's turn to be totally blown away. 'For trust and sacrifice' were the code words Jerry had given him to know when he met the man in person. It was clear Jerry had given a set to each team, expecting skepticism. Elser laughed through his nose.
"Bloody hell," he groaned.
A/N: I'll bet you didn't see THAT one coming… if you did, bravo!