Chapter 134

No amount of wheedling or cajoling could pry anymore details from Raymond about Minerva, the government agent, or the deal he hoped to strike. After I said I’d be at my sister’s fundraiser, Elizabeth had stepped in and dominated the conversation with energetic chatter about the connection between two sisters and a path to reconciliation between the two of us. I mostly tuned her out, except for the occasional nod or noncommittal grunt at the appropriate moments. In her excitement, Elizabeth didn’t notice my reluctance to engage in the conversation. That left the majority of my mind free to think.

It wasn’t that my sister and I were at odds with each other. Raymond was an only child and Elizabeth had been adopted, so neither really understood the weird dynamics of sibling relationships. While one of us had gone the way our parents had wanted – world class doctor, philanthropist, and a shining example of the Ford family – I had chosen to live my life according my own rules and code. And, while that particular code was flexible enough to allow me to commit federal crimes on a fairly regular basis, that didn’t mean I resented my sister for her successes.

Well, I did resent her, but that had more to do with her unending superior attitude when we happened to be in the same city than with the things she decided to do with her supreme privilege. She certainly wasn’t better than me, even if all the newspapers and magazines came within millimeters of outright saying as much. We were just…different.

And we’d landed on a technique that allowed us both the freedom to live without the burden of everyone else’s expectations and comparisons. She and I simply stayed away from each other. A twice-yearly email, as well as a thoughtful birthday gift, constituted the sum total of interactions either of us could stand. It was a system that worked and had worked for the better part of two decades, not including the rare occasion when Elizabeth contrived some coincidence that brought us together for an hour or two.

I was about to blow that unspoken arrangement right the hell out of the water.

After we finished eating, Barrett and I made our exit, against Elizabeth’s strenuous protests. There were matters to get in order, of course, and dresses to try on. Where pragmatism failed, the appeal to fashion worked wonders. I had to promise her that she’d be allowed to help me look for dresses before the fundraiser, although I didn’t commit to wearing whatever she picked out, before Elizabeth finally let us go.

As soon as we were in the car, I dropped my smiling mask and sank into an undignified scowl. Barrett looked at me for a few seconds before carefully, deliberately turning to look out of his window.

“Go ahead and ask,” I snapped. “You’re going to do it eventually, and you need to know anyway.”

“You and your sister don’t get along,” Barrett said. “That’s pretty obvious. What I don’t get is why you’d agree to attend her fundraiser.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I find that everything related to people who…do the kind of work we do…is usually complicated.” He turned his head enough to meet my eyes. “I’m pretty good with complicated, though.”

“It isn’t about her,” I sighed. “Not really, anyway. But my mother is going to be all over us from the moment we’re both in the same room and I can’t really afford that distraction.”

“And what would she be distracting you from, exactly?”

Instead of answering him directly, I raised my voice and told the driver that we would be headed to my hotel, instead of Barrett’s.

He turned fully away from the window. “I’m intrigued, but also very confused.”

“Keep it in your pants. I don’t want to have to explain this more than once, so I’ll answer your question when we’re all in the same place.”

I unlocked my phone and typed out a group text for Michel, Mila, and Devlin.

 

Sarah: There’s been a development that we need to discuss. How soon can you all get back to the hotel?

 

After a brief pause, I decided to add Max and the Texan. We were still operating in his territory after all; if anyone might be able to give me some more context, he’d be the person. And, while I didn’t necessarily trust Max with something with as much potential as Minerva, I was still working with the smallest toolkit imaginable. If a technical problem arose, we’d need her, her expertise, and her experience to handle it.

I thought about texting the Twins, but ultimately chose not to. In formal settings like a fundraiser, Mila would be enough to ensure our safety. If something arose that was beyond her abilities, we wouldn’t need more muscle; we’d need a big hole and a fast car, in that order. Besides, if she thought their presence was necessary, Mila was perfectly capable of making that call on her own.

“Does this mean I’m part of the team?” Barrett asked.

“It’s too late to cut you out of the loop,” I said. “And it’d be more trouble than it’s worth to come up with a new story that would pacify my parents without stirring up suspicion.”

“That almost sounds like you’re growing fond of me.” Barrett immediately raised both hands in mock surrender, a split second before I was able to hit him with a full-force glare. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m only involved in this because of happenstance and dumb luck.”

I scoffed. “Luck, he says. I don’t know what part of this seems lucky to you.”

“I just had lunch with the Fords,” he pointed out. “And now I get to pick out something fancy to attend a fundraiser that I’d normally have to sneak into. From the tenth floor. So this is a pretty big step up for me.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly that I almost didn’t realize he was making a joke.

Before I could respond, my phone vibrated once, then once more.  The first response came from Mila, speaking for both Michel and herself.  They were about thirty minutes away from the hotel, working through some combat training with the Twins, and would head straight back.  Without needing to be prompted, Mila had decided to keep Akumi and Kira out of this, for the moment.

The second message was from Devlin.  It wasn’t necessarily curt, but it did have a feeling of abruptness to it that I didn’t like.

 

Devlin: Already here.  Who else is coming?

 

I hesitated before replying.  He’d never made any secret of his distaste for Barrett and our relationship wouldn’t be helped by the cat burglar’s presence.  At the same time, it wasn’t something that could be avoided.  So, it was now a matter of deciding which would lead to a bigger explosion: telling him in advance that Barrett was going to sit on our strategy meeting or letting him find out when we arrived?

The answer was obvious, but that didn’t make it less distasteful.  I swallowed nervously before typing out two sentences.

 

Sarah: The regular team, plus Barrett.  He’s already in the loop on this.

 

Seconds stretched into a full minute while I waited for him to text back.   When his response came, it was written in the same terse, technically non-problematic way as his first message.

 

Devlin: I’ll arrange for somewhere private.

 

No other text came through after another minute and I returned my phone to my pocket.  The complete lack of emotion coming from Devlin wasn’t just concerning; it was disconcerting.  I didn’t know where we stood, didn’t know how to ask, and wasn’t even sure that I wanted a real answer.  And I wasn’t going to get any resolution on that during our meeting, due to Barrett’s presence; in fact, owing to the whole situation in Dallas as of the last few days, I doubted I’d find the time to sit Devlin down for a chat until much later.  I could only hope that the stretch of silent resentment didn’t irreparably damage something between us.

“Everything alright?” Barrett asked.

“Everything’s fine,” I said automatically.  “Just making sure that we can approach this problem as a unit, instead of several different sub-groups all trying to pull of their own thing.”

He made a sound of agreement, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

“Did you mean what you said at the restaurant?”  I asked, for no other reason than to keep myself out of my own thoughts.  “About your father making you work for a living?”

“Every word of it,” Barrett replied, without opening his eyes.  “Although I didn’t actually wait tables for more than a year before I decided to pursue, uh…alternative means of income.”

“Like what you do now?”

“Like what I do now, sure,” he said.  “Not exactly, though.  Television would have you believe that my career field is staffed to the brink and filled with successes.  It’s just easier to take on smaller jobs with lower payouts, but better odds.”

“Then why’d you ultimately decide to go the harder way?”  I asked.

Barrett grinned, eyes still closed.  “I wanted a challenge.  This appealed to me.  It’s really as simple as that.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  There wasn’t much of a psychological component to unpack, for one.  I’d accurately read Barrett as an adrenaline junkie back in Atlanta, long before he and I had ever had a real conversation.  He had that in common with Devlin and, if Devlin’s scathing critique of me after the debacle of the fair was accurate, I was starting to develop something of an addiction myself.  I’d just assumed there was more to it than that.

Some felons, lacking any legitimate options to earn money, turned to the Underworld to provide job opportunities in varying shades of morally gray all the way down to darkest black.  There were thieves like Devlin and myself, who claimed to be working for at least nominally noble goals; mercenaries like Mila and Aiden, who craved outlets for their own violent tendencies; and people like Michel, who simply got in too deep and couldn’t find or didn’t want a way out. Sometimes, it was just a deep psychological need for the crime, a desire to live by their own rules on the fringes of the law-abiding world around them.

But boredom?  That was new.  This was one hell of a life to live, out of simple boredom.

“Ever think about quitting?” I asked.

“Sometimes, I guess, but never seriously.  What else would I even do?  I’ve got a very specific set of skills that are incredibly useful in this field, but absolutely useless outside of it.  What, am I going to become a climbing instructor?”

I chuckled before I could stop myself.  Then, I decided that I didn’t want to stop myself, and I let a ripple of laughter out.  The sound filled the back of the car and, joined with Barrett’s own deep rumbling laugh, it helped to take my mind off of the impending meeting, the fundraiser, and the problems I desperately wanted to ignore. 

“And you?” Barrett asked, when our chuckles had slowed down to a trickle.  “Is this what you plan to do forever?”

I’d retired years ago and successfully stayed retired until Devlin swooped back into my life.  But now that I was back in the game…I just didn’t know.  Before we’d gotten fully drawn into the war between the Lady and the Magi, I’d told myself that London was My Last Job.  Then, when it had only turned out to be the tip of an iceberg of criminality, I’d allowed myself to first dip a toe into the waters of my past, then to submerge myself completely.  Going back to a purely civilian lifestyle seemed too small, too constricting for me now.  In all honesty, it had been too dull even before Devlin’s return.  I just hadn’t been able to admit that to myself. 

I liked the work I did.  Hurting the Magi, limiting their ability to inflict harm on the underprivileged and the downtrodden, testing my skills against an enemy that wouldn’t hesitate to pounce on any perceived weakness…all of those things stoked a fire in me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.  It was dangerous beyond belief, of course, and wildly irresponsible.  But it was doing something that mattered, even if no one outside of my limited circle of comrades knew what we were doing.

That was too much to explain to Barrett, though.  So, instead of fully answering his question, I merely shrugged.  “We’ll see how this turns out first.  No need to start speculating about the future if I might not even have a future.”

Barrett opened one eye and grimaced.  “So young, so beautiful, but with such a dark sense of humor.”

“Who’s joking?”

Max responded to my text just as we pulled up to the hotel.  She’d been attempting to decipher the RFID hard drive in her own personal Faraday cage and, appropriately, hadn’t received the text message at first.  Instead of working out of the secondhand computer shop, Max’ cage was located only a few blocks away from the hotel.  Working in a dense city center, with all of the competing signals and transmissions, provided her with a sort of camouflage.  It wasn’t a perfect solution, but I supposed it was the best we could hope for under the circumstances.

Mila leaned against one wall, facing us, as Barrett and I pulled up and stepped out of the car.  She tilted her head, cat-like and curious, but said nothing until we were only a few feet away.

“This is something he needs to be involved in?” Mila asked, pointedly ignoring Barrett. 

“It’s something he’s already involved in,” I countered.  “I told Devlin as much when he asked.”

“My issues aren’t always Devlin’s, and his issues certainly aren’t mine.  I’m just supposed to make sure that nothing happens to you and it’s pretty difficult to do that if you keep picking up strays.”

“No offense taken, in case anyone’s wondering,” Barrett said, to no one in particular.

“Keeping my parents complacent just became the most important thing we can do,” I said.  “He’s a key part of that.  As long as they think I’m married, my parents won’t pressure me to spend time with any other suitably aged, wealthy bachelors.  They won’t be looking too hard at me, especially with everything else going on.”

Mila raised an eyebrow.  “Everything else?”

“Let’s get everyone in the same room so I only have to go through this once.”

Mila sighed.  “Come on.  Devlin’s got everyone else in one of the conference rooms.”

She turned and walked into the building, taking long powerful strides that quickly carried her out of earshot.

“Is she like this all of the time?”  Barrett asked.

“Her personality can be something of an acquired taste,” I said, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate.  Mila didn’t hide her feelings, when she bothered to have feelings, and she wouldn’t pretend to like someone that she couldn’t stand.  “But she’s a professional.  Come on.”

We caught up to Mila and, together, the three of us went to the end of one hallway, turned, and went down to the end of that hallway before she stopped.  Mila opened the door and gestured for Barrett and me to step inside.  Then, she stepped inside, closed the door behind us, and locked it.

Devlin sat inside, drumming the fingers of one hand against the table top, idly listening as Max spoke to him.  The Texan wore his over-sized hat and had propped his ridiculous cowboy boots on the actual table. He was studiously trying to look like he was not eavesdropping on the conversation between Devlin and his daughter.  Michel sat a few seats down.  He opened one hand slowly until it began to tremble. He clenched it into a tight fist for a few seconds before gradually relaxing.  A half empty bottle of water rested on the table in front of him. 

Mila cleared her throat.  When everyone had found a seat, including Mila, Devlin spoke for all of them. 

“Alright, what’s going on?  What developments were you talking about?”

“I was having lunch with my parents and -”

“You were having lunch with your parents?” Devlin interrupted.  “As in, the two of you?”

“Well, if we hadn’t gone to lunch together, I don’t know how else you’d explain us arriving back at the hotel in the same car,” Barrett said dryly.

I wanted to hit him in the ribs with my elbow or maybe a car, but I suppressed the urge.  “While we were there, my father told me about a new project he’s working on.”

Devlin crossed his arms, careful not to jostle his injured arm too much, and said nothing.

Michel coughed, took a sip of water, and spoke. His voice had a little bit of a rasp now that I’d never noticed before.  “What is this project?”

“A program,” I said.  “If it can do what Raymond said it can do, then it might be exactly what we need to deal with…everything we’ve been dealing with.”

A significant look accompanied that last part of the sentence.

“What kind of a program?” Max asked.

“Something they created in-house,” I said.  “It’s proprietary, cutting edge stuff.  Two or three generations ahead of where they should be.”

“I’ve still got some pull with your father,” the Texan said.  “And I’m sure I own enough shares to get his attention.  Could probably get some more information out of him about it, if you wanted.”

I shook my head.  “That won’t work.  It’s part of a deal he’s working on – one that I think you know something about, actually – and he’s not going to blow a contract or discuss something like that with shareholders until it’s a sure thing.”

“But they were perfectly willing to discuss it with him there,” Devlin said.  “I guess he’ll just ask them to hand over the program.  Seems a little bit too easy, but what do I know?”

It wasn’t just his tone.  His body language, his demeanor, the way he wasn’t quite looking directly at me…everything about him suddenly infuriated me.  I’d made a mistake.  We’d all made mistakes.  But that didn’t give him the right to hold onto a grudge for days, to stew in his own self-righteous indignation, when I was trying – just like we were all trying – to survive. 

I slammed a palm down on the table and glared at him.  “No, Devlin,” I said.  “Barrett and I are going to attend a fundraiser at the end of the week and you are going to steal the program.  Does that sound easy to you?”