CHAPTER 5
Con You Get The Job Done
Hardison watched Eliot head into Zamora's Jewelry shop. Parker had broken in the night before and planted several button cams and mics so everything was ready to record the shady deal.
"Ray, good to see you again." Eliot's voice came over Hardison's laptop speakers.
Gemma looked around at all the stuff Hardison had stored in Lucille. "You guys use all of this stuff on a job?"
Hardison glanced at the t-shirt Gemma was holding up. I heart Aliens was written across the front. "Never know what we're going to need so it's good to have a little of everything. That bin of clothes is mostly spares though. Eliot and Quinn can be pretty hard on clothing during a job and sometimes it's good to have something on hand that no-one will miss if it gets blood on it."
Gemma smirked. "And it doesn't hurt to yank their chains a little either."
"No it does not." Hardison smiled back before he focused in on his computer again.
Gemma poked around a little more, getting a feel for the van and another aspect of the people that used it. Eventually she sank down into the chair next to Hardison. "So usually is it just you in the van?"
"Mostly. The other's come and go as needed, so sometimes it's just me, and sometimes one or two of the others are catching a nap or whatever." He tapped his way through all of the camera feeds checking for anything the others would need to know about.
"Has Parker already booked jobs for next month?" Gemma looked over Hardison's shoulder where he was watching Parker on half of his screen.
"Don't know. But it wouldn't be a surprise. My girl's been…" Hardison trailed off as he switched cameras.
"Nervous about changing into a werewolf." Gemma finished.
Hardison glanced at her with a smirk. "Yah, somethin' like that."
"If she's so nervous, why do it? Why not wait 'til she isn't nervous?"
Hardison's shoulders tensed. "She knows the risks and she felt a lot of what it was like through the pack bonds when I was changed. I don't think she'll ever be completely calm about it."
"So why do it?" Gemma knew that Eliot was worried about it and she'd seen the nervous energy passing back and forth through the pack over the last few days.
"Eliot wants to change Parker when she'll have the best chance of making the change. If we wait too long, something could happen to Parker or eventually old age might make her too weak to survive the change." Hardison had to suppress a whine at the thought of life without Parker.
Gemma frowned in thought. "Wouldn't you all be just as old as Parker? I mean whether you die of old age as a regular person or as a werewolf, what's the difference?" She saw Hardison's cringe. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be mean or morbid or whatever. I'm just curious."
"No, I get it." Hardison gave her a half smile. "I guess Eliot hasn't gotten around to telling you that bit of werewolf trivia."
"There's just so much werewolf trivia." Gemma chuckled. "So what did he not tell me?"
"Werewolves don't really age. It differs a little wolf to wolf, but overall, physical age seems to settle somewhere from mid to late twenties up to mid-thirties." Hardison leaned back a little in his chair. He watched as the information really seemed to settle. Gemma's scent changed and Hardison arched an eyebrow in anticipation of her next question.
"How old is Eliot?"
Hardison smiled and patted her hand. "Don't worry it's not that bad. He just turned forty-seven this year."
"What?" Gemma leaned forward and then hid her face in her hands. "Oh my gosh." She let her head drop back over the back of her chair.
"It could be worse." Hardison smiled. "His friend Nati is over eight hundred years old and she looks like she's maybe twenty-seven."
"And he knows how old I am?"
Hardison nodded. "Twenty-nine this year. But I could hack a few places and change that for you if you want." Hardison teased and nudged her knee with his.
"To make me older or younger?" She smiled as she straightened up in her chair.
"Whatever is going to make you happy." Hardison turned back to his computer and tapped a couple of keys.
"What makes you happy?" Eliot asked as he climbed in the back of the van. Gemma and Hardison's conversation hadn't been on the earbuds but Eliot had picked up Hardison's last comment as he'd gotten close to the van.
"You do old man." Gemma smiled and held her hand out to him.
Eliot arched an eyebrow and split a look between Hardison and Gemma.
. ͽϿ Ѻ Ͼͼ .
Their client, Robert Talbert, had provided detailed pictures of the pieces that he'd taken to Zamora for appraisal. Along with his own detailed descriptions and estimates of the most prominent jewels.
Parker hadn't been able to find any of the jewels.
"His safe had a lot of cash but hardly any jewels." Parker pouted. "There were only sapphires and rubies and all of them were under a half carat and had inclusions."
"Inclusions?" Gemma glanced from Parker to Eliot.
"Flaws." Eliot scowled. He looked at Hardison. "There were a few nice pieces in the displays but nothing over three carats. You have any of the pictures?"
Hardison pulled up several of the pictures on his laptop.
"Maybe he's fencing them somewhere. I wouldn't want to hold onto ice that the cops might be looking for." Quinn glanced over his shoulder as he drove Lucille through the next intersection
"I think I would have heard about jewels like that in the market." Parker frowned. "Alright. Everyone contact the fences and snitches that you know and see what we can turn up."
"So bossy today." Hardison smiled up at Parker.
"When isn't she?" Quinn asked.
"Alright. Let's get back to the pub and see what we can dig up." Eliot's tone was his usual grumpy tone but his eyes were warm as he settled in next to Gemma.
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Eliot stood at his dresser looking over the amulets that Nati had sent. The box she'd sent had contained a few other small gifts including pictures of Ewen and Abby with Melody and Olivia.
From the pictures, and what Nati had said on their occasional calls, it looked like the girls were really settled and happy in their new life.
He'd already passed around the pictures and other gifts but he'd kept back the black velvet bag that smelled of herbs and magic. Nati had said that he should hold each amulet and give it to the person in his pack that came to mind. Except Parker. There was no amulet for Parker.
Nati said that the amulets would serve as a focus for the pack and help strengthen pack bonds. Nati said that Eliot's description of Parker's control of the bonds was more like the Alpha's control instead of like the Second.
Hopefully if he and the rest of the pack had more control over the bonds then things would be less of a mess when it was time to change Parker into a wolf.
The amulets looked like nothing more than small square brightly colored tiles with a hole in one corner. A thin leather string was looped through the tiles so that they could be worn around the neck.
The thought of necks made Eliot think about Quinn's concern that Nati might use magic to exact revenge. Somehow he knew that the green tile was Quinn's but now he wasn't sure if he should give it to him or not. He knew that Nati meant this bit of magic to be a good thing but… If Quinn wore the necklace that was tied to Nati's magic would it provide enough of a connection for her to use it against him?
He'd have to talk to Nati about it but there was no way to do that without outing Quinn.
With a sigh he swept the amulets back into the bag and tucked them back in his pocket.
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Quinn could feel Eliot's worry and frustration in the bonds. The con was going pretty well, as long as they found the fence, and things between Eliot and Gemma seemed good. Really the only fly in the ointment was Quinn.
"Why don't you just say sorry?"
Quinn flinched at the sound of Parker's voice. "Geeze!" He sat up from the bench he'd been lifting weights on. "What are you talking about?"
"Eliot's annoyed and you're sulky. So why don't you just say sorry?"
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because…" Quinn did not want to explain the whole mess to Parker. He crossed his arms and tried to back her off with a glare.
"Why can't you?"
"Because…" The glare he gave Parker had made Russian mobsters tremble but it seemed to have zero effect on the little thief. So he thought about her question. Why didn't he just tell Eliot that he was sorry for the whole mess? Because at some point he'd have to talk to Natali Ossory. And that was only a problem because…
"Because why?"
Parker's words were too in-line with Quinn's thoughts and it made him squirm.
"Because… because I'm not sorry." Something clicked in place and Quinn frowned. He got up from the workbench and walked quickly past Parker.
Parker watched him walk out of their home gym with a small smile. Sometimes it was good to poke at bruises.
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Quinn had run almost all the way to Treyson's gym and was in a worse mood than when he'd started. He kept seeing Caroline Ossory. Every time her memory flashed across his mind it made him angry.
He'd done what he was paid to do. If he hadn't taken the job someone else would have. So it wasn't like he'd have saved her life by not taking the shot. Of all of the deaths he'd delivered, her's had been simple. Mostly…
~~o0o~~
The muzzle flash reflected off the windows in his room but the shot had been relatively quiet. Quinn reacquired his target in his scope. He was frankly surprised to see the woman still standing. It shouldn't have been possible.
He could see the flow of blood pouring from between her fingers, where she was clutching her chest, and the blood sprayed across the wall behind her. He'd gotten a clean heart shot and that should have dropped her. Killing her nearly instantly. But there she stood, one hand braced against the windowsill and one clutching her chest.
Quinn squinted through his scope. Pulled back and rubbed his eyes before he looked again. Her eyes were bright blue and long fangs were peeking out from her lips. The hand that clutched her chest was covered in fur and a claw tip was caught awkwardly in her sweater.
Quinn shook his head, decided he was seeing things, and leaned back into his rifle stock. He wasn't going to pass on the opportunity just because it shouldn't be possible. He controlled his breathing and his heartbeat and took the second shot. He watched through the scope as a second spray of blood joined the first on the wall behind his target as she dropped to the floor out of sight.
Setting his rifle to the side, he hopped up and drug his suitcase closer to him across the bed. He quickly disassembled his rifle and packed it away. He pulled on rubber gloves and wiped down all the surfaces in the room. Leaving the rubber gloves on he pulled on his coat and pulled fashionable leather gloves on over top of the rubber ones. With another look around his room just to be sure, he collected his bag and stepped out into the hall.
In a few minutes, he was strolling through the lobby of the Regency hotel. He found that with a nice suit, and an attitude that said he belonged there, people rarely challenged him. He strolled past the valet and the front desk and waited at the elevators. Fortunately, there were a few other people waiting there as well.
He followed a small family into the elevator and smiled at the little girl that was babbling happily at her father. The mother pressed the button for the third floor and Quinn smiled again when he leaned past her, pressing the button for the fifth floor.
He went down the maze of halls until he found the room he was looking for. He pressed an ear to the neighboring door and smiled when he heard someone snore. He pushed his bag in front of the door and went in search of housekeeping.
He found a curtesy phone at the juncture of the hallway. He called downstairs and reported something spilled in the hallway near the elevators. When he hung up, he went to the hall closest to the elevator and waited until he heard the bell for the elevator ding. He walked quickly around the corner brushing roughly past the housekeeper as he stepped into the elevator.
He'd snagged her key card on the way past and he smiled as he took the elevator down one floor. He went down the hall and took the stairs back up to the fifth floor. With a glance out of the stairwell, he didn't see anyone down the hall.
He used the keycard to get into his targets room and rolled his suitcase in after him. He set the chain on the door and then turned to the body. He drew closer looking her over.
Blood had pooled on her sweater and was oozing into a sticky puddle on the carpet. A small hole was just off center in her forehead, neat and tidy. What held his attention was the fur across her cheeks and the backs of her hands. One fang tip was pressed into her lower lip.
Quinn pulled out the picture he'd been given and held it up next to the face. Barring the fur and fangs, it was the same woman. Quinn stared at the fang tip in fascination but just as he reached a fingertip out to touch, the fang slipped away. He flinched back and looked at the face again. No fur, no fangs, nothing but the target he'd been sent after.
Quinn was starting to feel like he was going crazy. He promised himself that as soon as this job was over he'd treat himself to a vacation. Some place warm. Some place far from here.
He went to his bag and pulled out a large plastic bag. The bag was black and made of a very thick plastic that was nearly impossible to tear. He noticed the large black suitcase near the closet and he smiled. He pulled his coat and leather gloves off and draped them over his case.
He went to the bag by the closet and dumped the contents out. He went back to his bag and pulled out a small kitchen blowtorch. He kept a torch along with a number of other things besides guns and ammunition in his bag. Sometimes he was hired to get information from people and sometimes the manner of death wasn't meant to be as clean as a gunshot.
He pulled the envelope with the pictures and the iron out and took them to the bathroom he burned up the papers and pictures in the sink and used the torch to heat the iron until it glowed. The wooden handle of the small iron was uncomfortably hot in his hand but nothing that risked melting his rubber glove to his hand.
He carried the hot iron back into the main part of the room, pressed it to his targets left cheek, and held it there until the flesh stopped smoking. When he pulled the iron away, he could easily make out the shape of a fleur de lis.
He set the cooled iron to the side and with practiced ease moved the body into the heavy plastic bag he'd brought for the purpose, sealing it closed to prevent any leaks. Scooping the bag up he deposited the whole thing into the empty suitcase and zipped it closed.
He looked around the room and wrinkled his nose. There was no mistaking the place for anything but a crime scene. He wasn't being paid to keep the hit quiet and it would take him hours to clean the mess up. He'd worn gloves the whole time and there was no camera in the hall to see him come or go from the room so he decided to leave the mess for someone else to clean.
After that it had taken a little moxie and a little bribery to get the body to Ireland. He'd arranged for a rental car at a small airport very near his drop off point in Mayo county, Ireland. From there he'd followed the directions he'd memorized that took him down a quiet dirt lane at three in the morning.
He'd parked on the shoulder of the road when he spotted the house through the trees. The body wasn't big and he knew he could carry it that far but he hated the time it would take to get the body there and get back. He popped the trunk and unzipped the bag that held the body. The bag had wheels but wasn't likely to be useful over the loose dirt of the driveway and would probably end up making a lot of noise. He hefted the bag to his shoulder and wrinkled his nose when he felt and heard something in the bag slosh.
Walking as quietly as possible while carrying over one hundred pounds, Quinn made his way up the driveway trying to stay close to the trees. He made it to the lee of an outbuilding and waited. He waited to catch his breath and for his heart to stop hammering in his ears. He needed to hear if there was any movement in the house so that he might have a couple more seconds to make an escape if necessary.
It was only a few yards from the outbuilding to the house and Quinn managed it without alerting anyone to his presence. He tried to set the bag gently in the doorway. Not out of deference for the dead but because he didn't want to make any noise. He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. He cut the top of the bag open and pulled it down around the body's shoulders. He put the knife back in his pocket, gagging at the scent coming from the bag, and pulled a camera out.
He knew this was the riskiest part of the plan but there was no avoiding it if he wanted to get paid. He lined up the camera and tried to make sure it was in focus but it was so dark he couldn't be sure. He snapped the photo and ran for the trees. When the flash of the camera didn't cause lights to come on in the house, Quinn risked one more picture that would show the house as a whole with the body on the doorstep.
~~o0o~~
Quinn hadn't thought about the details of that hit in years. He realized that Caroline had probably been the first werewolf he'd killed. At the time he'd decided it was stress and exhaustion that had made him see fur and fangs and he'd written it off as a trick of the mind.
He made it to the gym door and was a little disappointed that Treyson's was closed but on second thought he wasn't in a mood to put up with people and he'd probably hurt someone's feelings.
How was he supposed to make things right with Eliot, and not screw up things between Eliot and the Black Lady?
He pulled out his cell phone and tapped a contact. "Paige."
"Quinn, is everything okay?"
"How do you say sorry for something you aren't sorry for?"