Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"I really don't know why I have to sit up here on this roof, freezing my ass off, when Guerrero is already inside the bar, having your back, and Winston with Ilsa on the lookout in the van. I mean, if I knew how to use a long distance rifle or anything… but like this it's pretty pointless, isn't it?"
"You're playing an important part in the plan, Ames", Chance replied quietly.
Guerrero, who was listening in to their conversation via earpiece, couldn't help but snort.
"Ken and I wanted to choose the wallpaper for the kitchen and the corridor this evening…"
"I'm sorry that our new job and my personal safety interfered with you interior designing plans…"
"That's not what I meant! It's just… I've got the feeling I'm of no use whatsoever up here – and why in the world do I have to wear these ridiculously uncomfortable shoes? These ugly flat military things that Guerrero handed me before we left?"
Chance threw Guerrero at the other end of the room a questioning look. He replied with a shrug of his shoulder – Couldn't resist, dude…
"All part of the plan, Ames." Chance stifled a chuckle.
Just then the atmosphere in the bar suddenly shifted, as if an icy-cold breath of wind had rolled through – Kareem Aquam, mighty leader of the Southside Gang, surrounded by an impressive display of his personal muscle, was making his entrance.
Even the most drunk civilians in the room now sensed that they better had their next beer in another bar and cleared out. What remained were Aquam and his people, both those he had planted in the bar prior to the meeting and his staff of bodyguards, and Chance and Guerrero. The barkeeper quickly disappeared, leaving his premises to the gangland boss and his visitors, silently praying he'd get recompensed for any damages that might ensue.
"So you've decided to call in the favor we owe you", Chance began without further ado, hoping Aquam would skip directly to the specifics of the job he wanted to hire them for and not go into detail of what kind of favor they had promised him in exchange for Duquan's safety.
"Yeah, the carte blanche."
Ah, damn it, of course he didn't skip that part.
"CARTE BLANCHE? DID HE JUST SAY CARTE BLANCHE?" Ilsa in the van.
Told you to lock her up in the office, the look on Guerrero's face said.
"Carte blanche with one exception", Chance reminded Kareem.
"No one deserves to die, I know."
"But that doesn't leave out all sorts of other stuff! Hijacking! Kidnapping! A bank robbery! What if he asks us to provide security for a drug transport?"
"We were very much aware of the possible consequences such a promise could have", Winston tried to calm Ilsa down.
"Let me guess, in the end you considered that a tomorrow problem."
What could Winston say? She was right on.
Luckily, Aquam chose this very moment to continue his reply to Chance's remark. "Don't worry, I'm not going to compromise your values." He reached into his jacket.
Both Guerrero and Chance tensed. So did Winston and Ilsa, all of her frustration wiped away by this reminder of just how much danger Chance was in at the moment. Ames on the roof couldn't see what was going on, but Ilsa's sudden silence told her volumes.
"This is my daughter." Aquam placed a photo of a teenage girl, about fourteen years, on the bar. It was the kind of portrait photo they make for yearbooks. Judging from the uniform she was wearing, she was going to one of the most expensive and demanding private schools in town.
"Her name is Shakeema."
She was pretty – long, curly hair, eyes that spoke of an alert mind and a friendly smile on her lips. Hard to believe she was this scarred thug's kid.
"Lost her mother to spiked drugs twelve years ago. Rat poison. Was meant for me. Keema is all I've got left."
"What's that in her hand?" Chance pointed at the photo.
"An ARML trophy. She collected the full ten points in the individual round." Kareem's eyes shone with pride.
"Math, huh? Clever girl…"
"Four weeks ago someone tried to kill her." All light in the gang boss' eyes went out. "An overdose of potassium in her smoothie. She had given it to her best friend, she drank it and died. Poisoning again, goddamn it."
"Strange coincidence indeed", Chance agreed. "Twelve years ago, did you get the person who spiked the drugs?"
"Wagner's people." Aquam didn't need to say anything else. This explained the sudden violent flaring up of the gang war.
"They claim they've got nothing to do with it, but this had Randy Wagner's handwriting all over it. I'm going to take care of this problem myself, though, don't worry. All I want you to do is make sure my little girl is safe till I'm done with them."
"He cannot seriously ask us to…" Ilsa from the van again.
"Agreed." Chance got up, shook Aquam's hand, took the photo and walked out, Guerrero in close pursuit.
When they got to the van, Ilsa was already waiting for them: "You can't be serious! I pride myself with having developed a significant level of tolerance regarding ethical standards in this "line of business" in the past two years, but this is just too much – three innocent bystanders so far! And there will be more! Not to mention all those thugs involved… We cannot just stand there and…"
"We're not "just standing there", Ilsa", Chance interrupted her sharply. "We're making sure Shakeema gets through this alive. That's all we can do." He didn't like this either.
"Why can't we find out who is after the girl so all this random killing stops?" She made it sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"And what if we find out? What if we can pinpoint it to a certain person? Shall we deliver him to Aquam?" Guerrero carefully unfolded a sandwich he had stashed in the van. "What do you think he's going to do with the perpetrator? Aside from that, the person who did this most likely acted on orders. So whom shall we take down? The one who ordered the hit, most likely Randy Wagner, or the executor? You realize, we take down Wagner, we open up a void in the power structure of the gangs around here… more fights will ensue." He took a hearty bite.
Ilsa just stared at him, open-mouthed. "But…"
"Hate to say it, but he's right." Winston shrugged his shoulders.
The door to the van was yanked open from the outside. All three men grabbed their guns, Ilsa threw herself to the floor and took cover.
"Thank you for telling me that I'm not needed on the roof anymore", Ames grumbled, climbing in, rubbing her shoulders from the cold. "So what do we do now?"
"Protect the girl", Chance said.