Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Uhm, hope this works...have patience peeps, we need a and b to get to c ;)
Another forty minutes later, during which the truck actually moved, though at a teeth achingly slow pace, and Parker told him to pull up. He looked around, seeing no side street or spaces and felt frustration swelling for the hundredth time this evening.
"Where Parker? On the side-walk?"
"What? No." She looked at him like he was the crazy one. Then compounded the insult with her next action."There" She pointed to the right. Eliot glanced through the windscreen and swore.
"The freakin' Plaza? Are you shittin' me? You had me drive bumper to bumper to pull a con on the Plaza? Sweetheart, I am hanging by a thread here. A freakin' thread." She rolled her eyes, unperturbed by his outburst as always.
"Just pull in grumpy." He looked at her and she looked back, like, what, get to it. Feeling tension in every muscle he muttered as he swung into the entrance. The Plaza loomed above, a bustling hive of activity and wealth even at this late hour. Friday night baby, he thought sourly. Damn New Yorkers everywhere, mobiles stuck to ears and money stamped all over them.
"Parker I ain't happy."
"Are you ever?" She smiled sweetly then climbed out of the truck, slipping a woollen cap on her head and tucking her hair beneath it. Curiosity burned in him, and he growled at the parking attendant, not entirely sure he wanted to get out. Parker stood by the huge doors and tipped her head like he was a stubborn kid refusing to leave a playground. Sighing, he climbed out and gave the well groomed kid his key.
"Don't touch my radio." The kid nodded, and Eliot hauled his and Parker's bag's from the boot before the truck vanished from sight. He stared after it, watching the kid take a right, then turned back to the blonde thief destroying his peace of mind.
"This better be good Parker."
"Just don't act menacing. That won't work here. In fact," she slipped her hand into his and tugged him through the doors before he could formulate a what the hell? "Just be quiet."
Eliot did not like being told to be quiet. He did not like not knowing the play. It was unnatural. And disconcerting. And she was holding his hand and dragging him through the opulent lobby of the Plaza like she owned the joint. Direct to the desk, looking right ahead. Oh man, he had no idea what she was going to try and pull. He checked the lobby for non friendlies, and adjusted the bags and his stance as he clocked at least three lurking at phones and behind newspapers. Deadliest cliche in the world, a hotel lobby he thought, not at all amused. Then understood why she had asked him not to be menacing. He was getting looks back. Shit. He cooled his jets and smiled down at her as they reached the desk, and she looked relieved. She was well aware of the dangers here. Tugging her hand to his side, she squeezed in warning or gratitude he couldn't tell, and relaxed a fraction. He made sure she was covered by his body, as discreetly as he could without throwing her on the very expensive floor and laying on top of her like a human blanket. Oh Parker, he despaired, what the hell are we doin' here?
"Can I help madam?" The brunette at the desk was poised and mannequin like, and a little disdainful as she addressed Parker. The thief was not disturbed at all, but it bugged him a lot. The girl may work at the Plaza, but his little thief could ransack it without breaking a sweat. Not his thief, he corrected. Their thief. The thief. Ah hell.
"I called ahead. There should be a key waiting for me. Ms Pitstop?" Pitstop? Eliot managed to stop his eyebrows shooting up and kept schtum. Very aware of every one in the lobbies movements behind them. Tension coiled within him. Then he thought about Parker's words. Called ahead? When? About to ask, since he was feeling handled and not liking it one bit, consequence be damned, he stopped, as the lady's eyes lit up with understanding.
"Of-course Ms Pitstop. Mr Frank explained before he left for the evening. I have your key right here."
Mr Frank? Who the hell was Mr Frank? What in the world was-
"Is he not here then?" Parker's disappointment was evident.
"I'm afraid not ma'am. But he asked that I give you this." The brunette was a lot friendlier all of a sudden Eliot noted suspiciously, and handed Parker a key and an envelope, which she took and slipped inside her jacket lightning fast. Eliot didn't like it.
"And may I have the name of your guest this evening?" She looked at Eliot expectantly, fingers poised on the keyboard of her computer. Before Eliot could speak, Parker interrupted.
"This is Mutley." Mutley? Mutley? The desk jockey barely hid a grin at that, and Eliot stared at Parker who stared back innocently, eyebrows raised, as if daring him to refute it. He smiled sarcastically.
"Of-course." The brunette glanced at Eliot all too knowingly and he planned a whole lot of things he had to say to Parker when they were out of ear shot. A whole lot. Tapping a few keys, the girl nodded, and looked at Parker warmly, taking Eliot off guard. Whatever was going on, and whoever this Frank guy was, it held a great deal of weight with her that's for sure.
"Your suite is prepared, and should you need anything at all, just call down to the front desk and ask for Jenny." She tapped her name badge. "I'll be happy to help."
Parker smiled uncomfortably, nodding, then leant in. "Can I use the service elevator Jenny? Mutley is not a people person." She whispered the last, as if he had some sad affliction, and he bit his inner cheeks to stop from swearing. Jenny nodded, eyeing Eliot like that made total sense.
"Certainly Ms Pitstop. Would you follow me?" Passing her desk duties onto her male counterpart occupying the other side of the desk, she slipped out from behind it, and showed them the way.
The Plaza was a stunning building. Architecturally, and aesthetically. Eliot struggled not to whistle as they strode through the back of the lobby and through a couple of corridors. Everything was gleaming, and polished and decadent. He had been in a lot of expensive places before, but never here. He felt like a hick, and hated that feeling. Parker on the other hand appeared unmoved by the sheer wealth on display, which caused a knot of something inexplicable to form in his gut. She had gone real quiet. Not just with her words either, just, like she had gone somewhere inside he couldn't reach. It was a bizarre sensation, to feel like he could protect her physically, but had no idea what internal war she was waging. He monitored the hallways, and understood Parker's request for the service lift. Anyone could find out which floor you were on if you used the conventional method. Her automatic attention to security was also a red flag, and he found the balls of his feet as they moved, ready for anything, since he had no clue what was going on.
At a service elevator, Jenny made a face at a porter about to board and jerked her head to Parker. The porter held back, and nodded at the thief who clung on to Eliot's hand tight. He tried to loosen it, since he needed to be able to use both arms if need be, but she glanced at him with an expression that said please, and he sighed, allowing her the death grip. Her hand was small and cool in his. It wasn't all bad.
Jenny ushered them in, and swiped a card on the panel before punching in the floor number. Twenty. The twentieth floor. Since Eliot was still on guard mode, he made a note, working out how many floors were above and below and wondered if he should lift Jenny's card in-case it was required.
He and Parker stood at the back of the lift, which for a service chute was still pretty fancy, and Jenny stood in front, hands clasped behind her back. Parker was still silent, and he could feel her anxiety throbbing beneath her skin by the pulse in her thumb against his. Finally it stopped, and Jenny let them out. Parker hesitated at the door, and Jenny swiped to return, then without a word, passed the card to Parker with a smile through the doors before they slid closed. OK, now Eliot was in the twilight zone. Was Parker a Manhattan princess or some shit? Man, what was with rich folks and crime? Sophie was royalty or something for pity's sake. An anger, born of frustration and feeling deceived began to brew in his chest, and Parker's nerves were not helping.
"Come on, it's this way." Not meeting his eye, Parker span on her heel and marched off, leaving him no choice but to follow, since she had not let go of his hand yet, growing increasingly confused and angry with every step through the luxuriant interior of New York's finest hotel. The Plaza. He still couldn't believe it. What he had expected was some safe house in the Bronx or a motel she knew of down town. Not this. Not this at all. And it was not often Eliot was surprised.
At a discreet door with no number, she stopped, and with a lightning quick glance over her shoulder at his stormy countenance, she opened the door and stepped in, finally letting go of his hand. Left with not many alternatives, and casting a cautious sweep up both ends of the hallway, he followed, letting the door swing shut behind him.
He had thought the first words from his mouth when they were alone would be to ball her out. The scene that greeted him put a stop to that. It was stunning. Directly ahead, through a hallway door, he saw through to a spacious living area and a flight of stairs leading to a further floor. The hallway itself had a vaulted ceiling and was damn near gilded with gold. A huge mirror on the right reflected the printed wallpaper of wild flowers on the other and stupidly, he felt surrounded by fields and colour. The black carpet was thick, but runners of a tougher no less gorgeous material made a path toward the door, and to the bathroom suite right by the exit. A wide doorway stood open to the bathroom, and a glance inside almost blinded him. White. Gleaming pristine white, with a huge low sunken bath in one corner and a toilet no doubt hidden behind the partially opened door. His mind was going a mile a minute.
Parker had vanished into the other room off the small hallway next to the bathroom, and he could see it was a kitchenette, complete with sink and cooker and fridge. A fully fitted kitchen in miniature. That room had no door, just a wide archway, allowing him to watch as she reached for a cupboard above the counter and pulled out a box of cereal.
She looked at him then.
"Hungry?"
For answers. He ignored her and carried on through to the living space, taking in the plush décor and sofas and huge TV on one wall. Bookcases lined the opposite wall, full of books, the spines glinting beneath the chandelier style lighting. A vast games console beside the fireplace beneath the TV caught his eye. Wow. Even Hardison would be jealous of that set up. A coffee table was set with flowers between the sofas that sprawled low, and a dining table sat off in a nook below the staircase. The windows let in the night, and he could see the twinkling lights of New York below and the stars above. It was like being caught between heaven and hell he mused.
The staircase led to another floor, and a flat panel hanging on the wall and an electric runner that ran opposite the banister on the wall made him curious. Hell, it all made him curious.
Placing their bags on the floor, he took a few moments. Who the hell was Parker anyway?
"You can take the master suite upstairs. I'll have the other room." He glanced to his left and found her standing there, hat gone now, and hair loose, eating cereal from the box just like always.
"So are you gonna tell me or what?" He didn't mean to growl, but frankly, this was out of his comfort zone by a country mile. And that reminded him. "Who the hell is Mr Frank?"
"The manager."
"You called the manager of the Plaza Hotel earlier?" It was ridiculous. She shrugged, screwing her brow in thought.
"He's a manager not the manager. At least I think he is. He may have been promoted. He's very good."
"Parker you heard that expression pulling teeth?"
She nodded, chewing.
"It was invented by someone who met you in a former life. Seriously what should I know here?"
"Nothing. I believe it falls under the, what was it again? Oh yeah, remit of being personal. Rule Three remember?" Smug, she looked so smug, but she had him on that one.
"Parker, I hate to break it to you, but if you don't tell me pertinent information I cannot keep you safe."
"Its the weekend Eliot, you are off the clock. Sheesh relax already."
Eliot bit back the news that he was never off the clock, not ever, and tried another tack.
"OK. Is there," he spoke slow, as if to a small child learning to talk, "any reason you may be a target here."
That got her. She paused a fraction of a second before shaking her head. "No. Pretty sure we are OK on the assassination possibilities."
"I want you to think very hard about that Parker. Because the guys I saw in the lobby were all ex CIA, and they were not here having a drink to good ol' times and the fall of Baghdad, ya feel me?"
"Did Baghdad fall?"
"Yes Parker. A coupla times now. Com'on, gimme something here. Could they be here for you Ms Pitstop?" She grinned at that.
"I don't think so Mutley" Minx. "But I guess I'm not a hundred percent. No reason to think they know-"
"Know what?" He pounced on that, and swivelled so he could hold her shoulders and have her face him. She shrunk a little from his grip and he felt like an ass, rubbing her shoulders in an effort to feel less of an ogre.
"It's a long story and I'm never supposed to tell it." Cross. She was cross with him.
"Even if your life could be in danger?" She rolled her eyes at that.
"Hardly likely Eliot, the chances that they are after me and I happen to show up-"
"A motion sensitive bomb in a vase of flowers is hardly likely but we nearly lost Sophie to one, so humour me. Spit. It. Out."
"Pinky swear you won't tell?" Was she kidding? Eliot looked around the room looking for another sane being to help him out. Seriously? She held out her pinky. Like she wanted him to actually, oh for the love of, he hooked pinkies.
"Pinky swear dammit now talk!"
"You know the Gardner Heist?" Oh man did he. Everyone in the free world knew about it. Wait, she couldn't possibly have been involved in that. She would have been what, seven or eight? Shit he had no idea. Since she started her life of crime at around nine who the hell knew? He nodded in reply, frowning as he listened.
"Wait are we clear to have this conversation in here?" Paranoia crawled in his gut. The Gardener Heist was beyond big. It was the one. The One.
She walked over to a sofa and flopped down on it. Waving a hand about the room, she nodded.
"Had it fitted out with frequency jammers. Nobody can hear us." Smart he thought. Then worried about that.
Taking a seat opposite, he leant forward. resting his elbows on his knees. His arm ached a little, but all he could think of was her story.
"Then get to it Parker. Don't leave me hangin'." She looped her legs over the back of a thousand dollars worth of furniture and stared at him from an upside down position as she hung off the seat, her hair trailing the carpet. A sexy blonde bat.
"You remember Archie?" Remember him? He hated that dude. Leading her into a mess, throwing her at the Steranko, not doing the right thing by her when she was a kid. Dude was a dick in Eliot's book. No way had that guy landed a joint like this. He didn't believe it.
"Well, it's kinda his fault." Another reason to bash his head in Eliot figured, annoyed. "You see, he used to show me off sometimes. His pet thief ya know?" Eliot cracked his knuckles. Yeah he knew. "I was his protégé. He liked to prove how good he trained me by getting me to rob his friends."
"Nice. Did he buy you ice cream after?"
"How did you know?"
Eliot closed his eyes. Archie Leach was getting it big time. "Go on."
Parker shrugged, which looked odd since she was hanging upside down, and carried on.
"Well, one such friend, was a Mr...lets say X. I think that's safest. Archie wanted me to break into his house in Manhattan, and take pictures of his walls, just to prove he had taught me well enough to do it. You see?"
"Not really." Casing the joint to blackmail him with more likely Eliot groused internally. Damn Parker was too trusting. Or had been once.
"Well I did it, I mean it was pretty easy really, his system was a -"
"Parker darlin' I don't care about his freakin' security system. I get it. You beat it. What happened?"
"Well I got in fine, took the shots, and was headed out when a Rottweiller got me."
Eliot's mind almost blew up.
"He sent you into a house with security dogs and didn't dose them? What kinda effed up human being-"
"My fault. Rookie mistake. I should have checked and I didn't." Eliot felt his fists clench, and her nonchalant attitude all but destroyed his control.
"Parker those dogs kill. You could have been killed." They weren't trained to sit on a damn intruder till cops showed, they were trained by those unscrupulous enough to exploit their nature, as attack dogs and could be vicious as hell.
"I thought that at the time, " she admitted matter of factly. He thought his heart might actually break. "So now I go in from above. Dogs aren't that great at jumping. Not as high as I can fly anyway." She grinned, victoriously and he felt something snap inside before reforming.
"So what the freakin' hell happened at the house?" He didn't think his blood pressure could take it. He reached over and took a handful of cereal, cramming it in. For the sugar. To ease his adrenalin spike. Whatever.
"I was busted. Caught red handed by Mr X. And his wife."
Wife? The word pulled Eliot up. Archie and his family always bothered him too. People in this game did not get to have wives. Or kids. It was selfish to do this work and expect loyalty should you get caught, or worse, get dead.
"They knew I was Archie's brat. Mrs X convinced him not to call the police. She made me warm milk and cleaned up the dog bite."
"It bit you?" Damn that had to hurt.
"Well it didn't wag its tail and try to lick me to death." She sighed like he was a dumb ass. Which, he realised, he was. Sometimes. "She was nice. I wouldn't tell them who had sent me, even though they knew and had the camera. Mrs X said loyalty is a rare commodity amongst rogues, but that there was honour amongst true thieves." Eliot liked Mrs X already.
"So, that has to do with the Gardner Heist how?"
"The pictures I took were of the secret gallery in the house. Lets just say, I recognised a lot of the paintings."
And that was why Archie had sent her he thought, seeing red. What a son of a bitch. Then on the heel of that. Wow. Parker knew the secret the whole world wanted in on. His skin itched as he thought about the goons downstairs.
"Anyway, Mrs X asked if I could keep a secret. I said yes. Archie wasn't too happy I didn't complete the job and couldn't tell him what was in the gallery. I told him I got busted on entry not exit. He kinda vanished after that. Mr X had me do some odd jobs for him and Mrs X used to take me out sometimes."
Eliot processed that. He shuddered to think what equated an odd job in Parker vernacular. The Mona Lisa? Shit.
"And this place?"
"Well, I went my own way after a while, and Mr X went legit. But we kept in touch a little. If I was in New York for work. " Again, Eliot winced. Their lives were weird, he decided. Ten shades of weird.
"Mr X died about seven years ago, and Mrs X was real sad about it. At his funeral, she asked me all kinds of questions and was a wreck. It was sad."
She hesitated, and Eliot saw the memories flash before getting buried beneath her calm façade. She wasn't impervious to hurt. Far from it.
"Mrs X passed away nearly four years ago. I got word at a postbox I use. It was...a bad day that day.
In the letter from her attorney's they told me she had left me this place. Its a permanent residence, bequeathed to me in her will. She used one of my aliases. Ms P Pitstop for the deeds. She asked me which was my favourite once." Faraway eyes and her voice tailed off.
Damn, Eliot didn't know how to help her through remembering sad times, and felt guilty as hell for making her relive it.
"Parker I'm real sorry." Inadequate, but the truth.
"It's totally fine." Damn that piñata voice, with a slight wobble. He stood, and crossed over to her dangling form. Crouching down, he brushed her hair as it fell on the carpet, compelled to comfort her. His hand smoothed her brow and she looked up at him with eyes like pools reflecting his face.
"Don't you want to know what happened to the paintings?"
"No Parker." He shook his head, never more positive of anything in his life. "That secret you can keep."
"Good, because I have to no matter what," she told him solemnly. "I pinkie swore it."
And if that wasn't the sweetest stupidest bravest thing he ever heard.