"Any particular reason for meeting me?" It was a simple question for the man sitting across from him. His hands calmly held the coffee mug. He stared into the depths, avoiding the eyes of the man before him. They had not spoken in years, and the call surprised the hell out of him. They met when he was legitimate, and had only corresponded infrequently since then.
"Certainly, several." Tension rested upon the other man's shoulders; hands shook the cup as he lifted it to his lips. Coffee spilt onto the table but only served as a distraction for the man as he traced circles through it.
Silenced settled upon them, and Nate took the chance to glance over his shoulder. Three sets of eyes settled on him, two questioning him and the other set appearing as stoic as ever. He was surprised at their lack of recognition of the man before him, but then again, none of them were readers.
"Mind sharing them with me?" They were not close, hardly even friends. But the writer had been fair to him in his analysis and honest enough about what Nate did at the time. Nate wasn't quite sure about what the writer's response to would be if he knew what he did now. Given the man was here, asking for him, the question seemed inadequate.
"We've been calling him 'the Dragon,'" he slid the folder over to Nate, his hands steady for the first time. His words even steadier. Nate began to wonder who the 'we' was, and why this was so important to him. At least being acquaintances with the man in front of him was enough for him to know that once he started talking, few could stop him. "He's been the head of a series of murders in New York. We know that he ordered the murder of at least four cops and one lawyer over the last twenty years. We know that he blackmailed his way to the top with ransom money from dirty cops."
"But I take it that's all you know?" It wasn't so much a question, but an affirmation.
"What I know will taint what I want you to find." The sincerity and anger in his voice seemed to blend into something that nearly made him tell his friend to turn around and walk away. "I want you to find the truth, not for me, but for them." He tapped the folder forcefully. "They deserve to be more than just the name of a victim in a file."
"Its going to take time," Nate said but the man moved to his jacket, removing another envelope, "and money."
"That should get you started." He slide it across the table, letting it rest against the folder. Nate stared at it a moment, unsure of how to proceed.
They had worked countless jobs where they were hired by people without any money to take down a corporation or some big bad that screwed them over. The leverage provided often resulted in a windfall for everyone, so he was not sure how to handle being paid up front. Especially with his team staring over at him. At least one of them had seen the man slide the folder, but all of them say the envelope filled with money. They may be good people, but they still were thieves.
"I'm not asking you to kill him, or even force his hand. What I want to know is who he is, and how hard I have to squeeze to get him to surrender." The writer's hands turned white as they wrapped themselves around the coffee mug, as if trying to draw strength from the pain. The fire that the man spoke with was new, as if the Dragon had done something wrong to him personally.
"Why us?" Nate asked.
"Because you are unknowns, or as close to being unknowns to anyone as this case gets. The untouchable had been reached, the unbreakable shattered. The detectives working on this case will be burnt by it, and I don't want it to be any worse than it has to be." As an author, the words seemed easy for him, as if the poetry of it all would make it make sense. To a degree, Nate understood him, but then again, it may have been the Irish coffee he was sipping.
"Why not bring it to the feds? Especially with four cop murders?"
"Three, I said ordered four." It was the first smile on the man's face. "The last attempt failed, which means that they are running scared and more likely to make more mistakes."
"Which you hope we'll find."
"You'll find more than that without trying, but its going to take a while." The write looked over at the three sitting behind them. Nate knew that at least two of them tried to look inconspicuous, while the third just glared back at him. "You've got a good crew and I know you'll get the job done."
The writer stood before placing several twenties on the table. It was more than enough to cover the drinks, but it was something that Nate knew he could not stop doing: giving.
"How much do you want to know, Rick?" It was Sophie's first question. She had sauntered over there, without so much as an introduction. Nate knew that upon entering, she would see them talking and immediately make her way over. Any other client, she may have stayed back, but this one, seemed to know them all. Even if the others would not admit to it, Nate could see the recognition in his eyes.
"As much as I can without getting her, me, or my family killed." Rick stood behind his chair for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. He spoke before Sophie got a chance, "yes, its about a girl. Isn't it always?" Nate chuckled at them before standing from his chair as well. "I would like this to be a priority, but you've got other clients that can probably need your help more than I do."
"Well, we do, but that doesn't mean we won't take a look at this, and see what we can find out." Nate held the folder in his hand, letting Sophie rise as well. "Heading off to a book signing then?"
"A few more this week, then heading back to New York. So if you can, let me know anything you find out before then, especially if we have to meet."
"Book signings and readings in Boston and then New York. Last week it was Washington D.C. and the week before Chicago. You certainly lead an interesting life." Sophie said with a knowing smirk.
"What can I say, some of us can't be thieves." Nate stared at Sophie for a moment, a little shocked at how easy the writer had pegged them. Then again, the man was more observant than most gave him credit. "Had to find something to do with my time." The smile betrayed his pain, hiding it behind a mask that showed just how proficient the writer could be when he tried.
"We'll look into it, Rick," Nate finally got out. The writer nodded, before slipping a hand into his jacket.
"That's all I can ask for. If you find anything, and I mean anything, call me. Please." Rick placed a card on the table before tapping the envelope with the money in it. "If you need more, let me know, I'll get you whatever you need." He stood from his place slipping on his jacket. "Nate, you know you're more than welcome to stop by any time. Alexis has asked a couple of times." Sophie's head nearly snapped around to look him. "You better call ahead Sophie. I don't think my mother has quite forgiven you." The discord the writer left in his wake was enough for them to forget about the money momentarily. He stared at the three at bar again, as if gauging them before giving them a charming smile (which caused Parker to blush), before leaving.
Despite the melancholy that he had surrendered to, Rick managed to lighten the atmosphere by a fraction. It was enough to give Nate a moment to think about what they needed to do.
"So, how do you know this guy?" Elliott slid into the booth that Rick vacated moments before.
"Met him back when we was writing a Derrick Storm novel, asked about some of my work. We've met a few times for lunch over the years, just chit chat, never business really." Nate held back the line about their children being the same age and playing together. About knowing Rick since they went to college together (albeit briefly for Rick). It was Rick who offered to pay for the operation to save his son, and it was Nate who turned it down. Not out of pride, but in belief in the company he worked for at the time. "I figure Sophie here was in a production with his mother that ended poorly." Sophie smiled a little bit before tossing her hair, neither confirming nor denying his statement. "The real question is how does he know you three."
Parker blushed again, prompt Hardison to nearly squawk. "He caught me once. Well not really caught, but..."
"He caught you?" Elliott asked. Nate hide his surprise but nodded toward Parker to continue.
"I was trying to break into a museum that had some big event in it. A fundraiser or something." Parker spoke into the table. "He spotted me as a waitress and began to talk with me. It was nice, and odd, since he had been dancing with other women all night."
"You'd didn't respond well to it, did you?" Nate smirked; the naturally charismatic author worked magic on people, drawing even the most introverted people out of their shell. For Parker, this probably threw her off her entire game.
"I missed my mark by several minutes, and had to scrub the whole thing." She pouted in her seat as the other exchanged glances. It took a lot to make Parker forget about the job. "And then he came up to me as I was leaving out a back door, and said it had been fun, but should probably pick another career." Nate barked out laughing, though stifling it quickly as Hardison and Parker glared at him. Elliot just smiled, catching onto the subtle action.
"He played you."
"No, he...distracted me." Parker admitted with a pout. It took a lot to distract her but if anyone could do it, Rick could.
"And you two?" Nate asked, taking another sip.
"Hired as a bodyguard for a weekend, met him briefly at a party," Elliott said. "Not much else to it. Nothing fancy, just in between jobs at the time."
"No fights or anything?" Seemed too tame for something Rick could have been at.
"Well, the man did strip naked and steal a police horse," Eliot said with a smile. "I'm not sure if he recognizes me."
"Probably did, though couldn't place you right away," Sophia said. "What about you Hardison?"
"I...I went to a book signing once," the younger man admitted. Nate didn't take him for the type to read mystery, but the man had an eclectic taste in things. "What? Nikki Heat is a great character." Hardison dropped his gaze to the table, trying to ignore the smirks on Sophie's and Elliots face.
"Well, enough down memory lane," Nate said. He opened the folder to a picture of a young woman, brown eyes staring up at him. They signaled her pain, and her tiredness, but also the determination. "We've got a case."