Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Their new client was a member of the Vienna State Opera's orchestra, the very orchestra that served as a recruitment pool for the world famous Vienna Philharmonic. It was every classical musician's dream to be chosen for that elite group and only a couple of days before their client's instrument was stolen he had been informed that he had been shortlisted for a membership.
"That angle could be worth a look at", Chance remarked as Winston stomped past him while he was lying on his sofa, watching TV. "Sounds like someone got jealous or felt overlooked."
"Thanks, Sherlock, now that you say it… Guerrero is already looking at the orchestra members. Probably by now working on how to torture the answer from the shadier ones. Heard him talking about wanting to hire a couple of banjo players… Do you really think we can't pull this off without you? We don't need you riding in on a white horse all the time. Keep that shining armor in the closet for once and see that your sorry ass remains on that sofa. We need you healthy."
Winston paused, looking around. "You really haven't seen my cell, have you? I could swear I had it with me yesterday evening…"
"No idea."
Chance looked him directly in the eyes, blue eyes and shar pei puppy wrinkles on his forehead claiming total innocence.
Yeah, right.
"Chance, you didn't steal my phone because you're angry we're leaving without you? How old are you, five?"
Guerrero's voice from downstairs nipped the looming confrontation in the bud. "Dude! Got it! Right next to the pot cheese Ilsa bought for you!"
"If you had adhered to your diet sheet this morning instead of picking a fight with Guerrero over the last bacon, you'd have found it right away", Chance pointed out, grinning.
"Very funny."
"We are going to Vienna and retrieve a stolen violin which, judging from experience, will probably involve a car chase and/or a minor explosion, while you are stuck at the office, babysitting a sulking teenager", Ilsa pointed out, appearing in the doorway, indicating to Winston that they had to hurry to the airport. The jet wouldn't get clearance forever. "How funny is that?"
Grumbling, Chance grabbed the remote and changed the program.
… … …
It was still early in the morning, but Ash was up and about, too. He came sneaking out of his room shortly after the team had finally left. Chance could hear him rummaging in the kitchen - the opening and closing of the fridge, then various drawers… the popping sound of the toaster… the clinking of glasses as he retrieved a clean one from the dish washer… All accompanied by a soft metallic jingle Chance didn't like at all. He called his son upstairs.
"Want me to take them off?", he asked, nodding at the cuffs.
"I can do this", Ash replied tersely. Judging from his bloodshot eyes he hadn't had much sleep last night. "No need to help me."
Chance sighed. Today seemed to be World Leave Me Alone Day. He was bored already. "Let me at least check your wrists. The cuffs don't fit properly and…"
"Stop pampering me, I'm no baby!" Ash took a step back, apparently fiercely determined to deal with this on his own.
"Show me your wrists!"
"Or what?"
"Guerrero has a metal ring inserted on the floor in the lobby underneath the couch, ever wondered what it's for?"
"Empty threat!"
Chance was on the verge of teaching Ash just how empty any threats were he was making when his cell phone rang. Now that number on the display he recognized immediately. "Hey, Harry."
Harry wasn't exactly coherent in his narration of the latest trouble he had gotten himself into, but enough for Chance to get an idea where he was being held captive. "Be there in thirty. Hang in", he told him, cut the connection, jumped off the couch, headed for the stairs… and halted. His doorway was blocked by Ash.
"Where do you think you're going?", his son scowled at him.
"That was a Uncle Harry. He needs bailing out, fast."
"You're supposed to rest."
Chance rolled his eyes. "It's a life and death matter, Ash, this can't wait."
"And you and your health, that isn't a life and death matter? Guerrero showed me a piece of cut rope."
Ah, trust Guerrero to make sure his explanations on Chance's health would leave a proper impact on the boy. Quite a compliment for Grace, actually, that he regarded a repeat performance of her little rope trick as useful.
"Harry will die if I don't help him. In my line of work there's no such thing as vacation close-down."
For a moment Ash looked as if he was stepping out of the way. He was biting his lip, unsure what to do. His father's work was serious, he was well aware of that… And he knew Harry... liked him... he was out there needing help, now…. But what if…? Ash suddenly pulled himself up to his full height and blocked the doorway even more. Throwing his father a smug look, he took out his mobile.
"Grandpa? I need your help."
… … …
Chance heard them arrive long before the elevator dinged. Baptiste was cursing loud enough to be heard on Bay Bridge. Smiling to himself, he occupied the couch in the lobby where he'd have a better view.
Baptiste was the first one to step out of the elevator. "Where's the shower?", he thundered. He was covered completely in what looked like blue slime.
"How was I supposed to know…?" Harry came stumbling after him, equally slimed. Joubert brought up the rear, not a hint of blue substance on him. Carmine, who had been lying at Chance's feet, jumped to the floor and approached Baptiste, sniffing at him and making munching sounds.
"Where did you find him, smurf village?", Chance asked from the couch, propped up against a couple of Ilsa's Italian designer pillows.
"SHOWER!", Baptiste demanded. Carmine licked tentatively at his left leg, obviously liked what he tasted and tried to get more. A very strict look from Baptiste, however, stopped him. His abilities as a watchdog were probably lousy, but he did have a well-developed survival instinct.
Harry, however, looked a lot less threatening…
Chance pointed in the direction of the office's showering facility and allowed Harry with a nod to go ahead and use his own in the mezzanine part of the office.
Feeling privileged, Harry headed towards the stairs to Chance's living-quarters. One foot on the first step, however, he was tackled and brought to the floor by Carmine. Panting enthusiastically, the dog planted its big paws on his shoulders.
"Flavored food coloring", Joubert explained. "Don't ask why they've got it all over them."
It was really astonishing how insistent that dog could get when food was on the line…
"It's Harry, no need to", Chance replied.
"Carmine, drop!" Ash came running from the kitchen. Now, he could have told Carmine to get up and do a can-can on his hind legs, it would have had the same effect, so he ended up physically pulling the dog away from his father's client.
"How come my grandson is handcuffed?", Joubert asked, frowning.
Chance sighed and told him the story of the sunken car as Harry, finally freed from Carmine's weight, hurried up the stairs.
"I made a mistake. I'm sorry. But no date with Tiffany, handcuffs, getting grounded for a week and no game on Sunday, don't you think that's a bit of an overkill?" Ash wiped his now blue and slimy hands on his jeans, overemphasizing how the cuffs were impeding him.
"If it had been up to me, you would have spent the week locked up in the cellar." Joubert's voice had suddenly turned so icy-cold, it made Ash take a step backwards. From one moment to the next his grandfather's whole demeanor had completely changed. He now looked like a granite block of barely contained anger.
Chance knew that side of the Old Man only too well, but for Ash this was the first time and he was shocked.
"Stupid. Plain stupid. Attracting the cops' attention. Risking your life. For nothing but showing off", Joubert snarled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't…"
The Old Man cut him off: "You never know which mistake will be your last."
Ash's knees grew weak, tears shot into his eyes. His grandfather's voice seemed to cut straight through him, like a hot knife through butter. He started shaking.
"And what's even worse, you let your team down. They need you on Sunday, but you're letting them down, for nothing but idiocy."
Now Chance jumped up from the sofa. The sudden movement didn't go unpunished as a sharp pain shot all along his arm right down his spine, but it didn't matter. "That's enough", he told Joubert, staring daggers at him. Then he turned to Ash, who had turned pale as a ghost.
"Let me remove those stupid cuffs."
Ash, however, took another step back. "I can do this", he uttered, barely audible, wheeled around and dashed up the stairs.
"Sometimes you got to hurt them to teach them. He won't make that mistake again." Completely unfazed by Chance's murderous glare, Joubert dropped himself into one of the armchairs in the lobby. "I think we've got a case to discuss", he smirked, knowing full well that the "won't make that mistake again" was making Chance think. He wanted his boy safe. "Unless of course you want to do mankind a favor. In that case I suggest we cut your friend loose and let the hired guns that had chased him to that food factory finish their job."
Carmine started licking at the blue spot Harry had left on the floor.