Keep The Car Running - Part 3
Part 2
If you want to get someone’s attention, lethal force usually isn’t the way to go. Things get messy and you’ll rarely ever get what you want. If you make people think that you might actually use lethal force, then getting someone’s attention and getting what you want out of them gets a hell of a lot easier.
“Gabe, tell me something.”
“Yeah Butch?”
“How did the cashier not catch the fact you’re trying to make a bomb?”
Gabe looked up from the materials he had laid out on his mattress. “It’s not going to be a bomb!”
“Gabe, please,” Butch said with a rather sarcastic look. “You’re talking to someone who’s had to deal with multiple bomb scares in his line of work. That shit makes a very basic one, but with the right amount of explosives, you can make a scene. Or at least flash bang the hell out of someone if that’s your bag.”
Gabe grumbled. “It’s not a bomb, Butch. Well, not really. It just needs to look like one. I need to get Bob’s attention somehow.”
“So I don’t need to talk you down from the ledge of blowing up your former employers?”
“No.”
A pause. A slurp of coffee. “Was it at least fun to bug the FBI agents?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, a very low rumble came from outside. It came to a stop and was followed by the slamming of a car door. “Hey Gabe! Are you back yet?!”
Gabe turned towards the open window at the sound of Greta’s voice. He looked out the window and did a double take when he saw her.
Or rather, the car she was standing by.
“Greta, how in the hell did you get a Mustang? I thought you were turning the rental back in, not getting a new one!”
“I’m not renting it,” Greta shouted, “I own it! I managed to persuade the owner to sell it to me. I have a few favors I have to do regarding his son, but it’s worth it.”
Gabe looked over at Butch with confusion. Butch just shrugged. With a sigh, he looked back out the window. “It’s not sexual, right?”
“No,” Greta said sternly. “Besides, why would you care if it was?”
“I just... no... forget it.”
Gabe popped his head back in the window. As he sat back down on the mattress, he noticed the smug look of amusement on Butch’s face. “What? What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing, man.”
He took another sip of his coffee and went off towards his room, a grin still on his face. Gabe shook his head and reached for the screwdriver in the pile of materials. He had a long night of work ahead of him.
-----------------
Gabe had gotten about three hours of sleep before the usual morning routine had woken him up. Butch and Chris were trying to figure out who’s turn it was to use the shower first that week right outside his door, there was a slight bustle of voices, feet, and scraping coming from downstairs and the lights in his room had flickered on and off a few times while Greta was trying to figure out which switch turned on the bathroom lights.
Still, his project was done. While it was in no way functional, he had constructed what looked like a very basic homemade bomb that would be rigged to a detonator. All it needed was slipshod packaging addressed to Bob’s office and he would be good to go. Sure, it didn’t work, but his secretary and the mailroom boy didn’t need to know that.
When Gabe finally rolled off the mattress to join the others in the morning rush, he felt groggy. He hadn’t really been able to sleep peacefully since he was dropped in Atlanta, but it’s not like he had expected that. He had fallen asleep to the sound of mortars before. Sleeping in a Victorian style house that echoed on a crappy mattress with a few broken ribs felt like nothing in comparison, but it was still a pain.
Gabe felt a pat on his shoulder and snapped out of his spell. He looked over to see Butch standing next to him in just a towel. “Hey, it’s your turn to use the shower. I tried to save you some hot water, but I don’t know how much the others used.”
“Thanks,” Gabe said, still feeling sleepy, “It doesn’t matter that much to me, but thanks.”
Butch patted his shoulder again and went off towards his room. “Let me know if you need any clothes. Greta says you’ve been wearing the same suit since Colombia.”
Gabe groaned. He had completely forgotten the fact he had been wearing the same set of clothes for almost a week. His other clothes were somewhere in Colombia, never to be seen again.
Trying not to think about it, Gabe dragged himself to the bathroom and into the shower. The water managed to stay warm for about five minutes before it quickly switched to cold. Gabe felt himself wake up then as he had flashbacks to his days in boot camp.
As soon as he dried himself off, he trudged back to his room to see that Butch had left him some clothes on the mattress anyway. The jeans felt a bit tight, so Gabe switched back to the suit pants he had been wearing. The one black button down shirt in the pile did fit, so he tossed it on and went downstairs to meet the others.
Everyone was spread out. Chris and the other housemate Gabe assumed was Darren were sitting in the living room, talking about the night the other housemate had, Fran was sitting out on the wrap around porch, playing around with his guitar, and Butch and Greta were sitting in the kitchen as she audibly shifted through the contents of the fridge.
“I’m just saying, I’m not really a huge fan of Turkey Bacon.”
“Really, Greta? No, wait. Why am I even asking? You hate most everything.”
The fridge door closed with a rather loud thud. “I do not.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but in the years I’ve known you, you haven’t proved otherwise.”
Gabe rolled his eyes as he started to walk into the kitchen. “Will you two lay off?”
The two looked over at him as he walked in. “Sorry, Gabe,” Butch said before returning to his plate.
Greta shrugged as she opened the fridge again. “I’m not.”
Gabe just shook his head and walked into the kitchen behind her. “Butch, where’s the closest post office?”
“It’s in Little 5,” he said, sticking his fork into his mouth. “You mailing off the Not Bomb?”
“Yep. The sooner I can ship it off to Bob, the better.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that. I’d join you and try to make mailing off your suspicious package easier, but I have an appointment here in like...”
He looked towards the clock on the opposite wall. “Foooorty five minutes.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow at him. “Appointment? I thought you retired?”
“I am,” he said, reaching for his mug. “I just take freelance on occasion for extra money.”
“Which you might want to consider doing considering you’re out of a job right now,” Greta said as she pulled a package of bread from the fridge. “You have rent you need to pay, you know. And new clothes. Plus, no one else is going to hire you when all your references refuse to acknowledge your existence.”
“Yeah, I know,” Gabe said with a sigh as he reached over Greta to grab a container of yogurt from the fridge. “I just hope I won’t be jobless for very long.”
“Still,” Butch said over the rim of his mug. “It might be good if you were here for this one. I might need some help if it’s as bad as the kid made it sound.”
“Don’t you have other people to help you,” Gabe asked, opening the container of yogurt. “You pretty much know everyone ever.”
Butch sighed and reached across his chest, rubbing his right shoulder. “It’s a hard sell sometimes.”
Gabe blinked at Butch, feeling curious about his reaction, but decided not to push the issue. “I’ll sit in after I get the package mailed off.”
Butch smiled a little bit at Gabe. “Thanks, man.”
Gabe said nothing, but gave him a slight smile as he picked a spoon off the counter and began to dig into the yogurt. “Greta, you want to give me a ride into Little 5?”
“Maybe,” she said as she placed some bread into the toaster. “Can’t you get your new FBI friends to give you a ride like they did yesterday? Or you could... y’know... walk?”
“You really think me holding a fake bomb in a car with two disgruntled FBI agents or walking around with one is really a good idea?”
There was a long pause between them as Greta mulled the question over. Finally, she sighed and pressed down on the toaster. “Just promise me you won’t bring attention to yourself?”
“I’ll try, but I make no promises. You know that attention flocks towards me at the worst times.”
“Gabe, I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
She stared blankly for a few seconds before shaking her head. “Yeah... I guess you are.”
The toaster popped up and Greta turned to retrieve her breakfast. “Let me eat first?”
“Of course.” He put the yogurt down on the counter and began to head back upstairs. “You’re an angel, Greta Morgan Salpeter.”
“And you’re full of it, Gabriel Eduardo Saporta.”
Gabe was already heading up the stairs when she said that, but behind him, he could faintly hear Butch say, “Are you sure you two aren’t dating anymore? Or can I just not tell the difference from when you were?”
“Butch, shut up and finish your eggs.”
----------------
Greta knocked on the window of the car. “Okay, I got the packaging.”
Gabe rolled the window down and Greta passed him a paper bag. Inside, he could see packing tape, stamps and a sharpie. He figured he could stuff the not bomb in the bag and work from there. “Thanks, Greta.”
“Make it quick,” she said, turning her back to him and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. “I’m not getting arrested for being your accomplice... again.”
He smirked as he rolled the window back up. Quickly, he dumped everything in the bag on the driver’s seat and pulled the not bomb from the backseat floor. He stuffed it into the bag, crumpling and curling the sides down to conceal it. He then reached over to grab the packing tape. “Alright, let’s see if we can make you suspicious enough...”
-----------------
“Did you use the whole roll of tape?”
“Not the whole thing. Maybe like... half...”
Greta shook her head as Gabe walked over to the mailbox with the suspicious package in hand. The sharpie hand writing on the front was scratchy, the whole thing was covered in tape and he used the whole pack of stamps in the top right corner. There was no return address, but Gabe did leave one calling card...
“I see you still use the cobra drawing. Why?”
“Can’t beat the classics, Greta. Besides, how else is he going to know it’s from me?”
“Well, who else is going to send him a fake bomb to get someone to call him.”
Gabe paused as he opened up the slot to the mailbox. “Well, you have a point there.”
He slid the package in and dusted his hands off as soon as the slot slammed closed. “Done!”
“Good. Let’s just hope it works for you.”
Gabe smirked as they walked back to her car. “I appreciate your support. It means a lot to me.”
She looked up at him with pursed lips. “If you pretend to start crying, I’m making you walk back.”
Still, Gabe couldn’t help but notice the slight smile on her face as she walked towards the driver’s side.
----------------
Gabe and Greta were barely in the door when Butch jumped up and called out to them from the living room. “Oh! Guys! You’re here! Awesome! You might be able to help on this one.”
The two of them turned to look at each other, but Butch’s look turned serious and desperate. Like the situation was worse than Butch had originally thought.
Gabe sighed and began to walk into the living room, but he froze when he saw who was sitting in the chair across from Butch. “Nate?”
When you’re a spy, you always need to be prepared for your past coming back to haunt you when you least expect it. Still, nothing can prepare you for seeing a childhood friend in your living room with a black eye and his arm in a sling.
Nate stood up to greet Gabe with a weak smile. “Gabe! God, I haven’t seen you in forever.”
He reached out his hand to Gabe and gave him a brief hug. When they pulled apart, Nate looked up at him. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been better,” Gabe said, sitting down on the couch.
Greta took a spot on the couch, looking at Gabe curiously. “You know him?”
“I moved from Atlanta to New York when I was eleven,” Nate said, looking over at Greta. “Gabe and I lived in the same neighborhood. He was sort of the neighborhood bad kid, but he was also the first person to protect us if we were having trouble with neighborhood bullies. Then he went off to the army and my family moved back to Atlanta a couple of years after that. We haven’t seen each other since.”
Greta smirked a little. “Well, I guess some things never change.”
“What are you doing here,” Gabe asked, ignoring Greta. “What happened to you?”
Nate shifted uneasily in his chair, but Butch reached over and gently patted his knee. “Don’t worry. Just tell them what you told me.”
He nodded and sat up straight in his chair. “Well, it started with my roommate Victoria. She’s a part-time model and she really wants to go full time. Always has terrible luck with it though. Until recently, it seemed.”
He looked down at his lap for a few seconds, then back at them. “She met this guy named Pete, said he could help her go full time. She was so excited. She couldn’t stop talking about it. She left one day for a shoot, but didn’t come back that night. Or the next night. Or the next.”
Nate shifted again in his chair. Greta then got up and sat down across from Nate, reaching for his hand. “Don’t worry. Keep talking. You’re safe here.”
She smiled gently at him. Nate gave her an uneasy smile, took a deep breath, and continued. “I tried to file a missing persons report, but some guys came to my place and busted up my car with golf clubs. Said I’d be next if I kept asking questions. Of course, I was scared, but I wasn’t going to back down. I found the guy’s business card and asked around town about him. Heard some bad things about selling girls. I went on his turf and tried to confront him about it, but he just snapped his fingers and his guys dragged me out to a parking garage. Broke my arm. Gave me a black eye. Bruised a few ribs. Broke one of them. Told me there would be worse if I came back. After that, the police mysteriously lose the report. I had a friend suggest that I talk to Butch, saying I might have a chance of finding Victoria if I could get his help. So... here I am.”
The room fell into silence when Nate finished. Greta rubbed his hand gently before he looked up at the three of them. “So... can you help me?”
“I think so,” said Butch hopefully. “Well, I know I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t speak for these two.”
“I’m in,” Greta said, gently squeezing Nate’s hand. “You don’t deserve this and neither does Victoria.”
They all looked over at Gabe, waiting for his answer. He looked down as his knees for what seemed like forever. He knew that it would be the right thing to do, but he wondered if getting involved would get back to his former bosses. If it would put a dent in any sort of progress for his burn notice. Plus, how did Nate know that Victoria was still in town? She could have easily been shipped off already...
“Gabe? Are you here?”
Gabe looked up at Greta, who was still holding onto Nate’s hand. The unease in Nate’s expressions gave Gabe the answer he needed. He couldn’t let this happen to an old friend. He gave Nate a slight smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Nate sighed in relief when Gabe answered him. “Thank you. All of you. I’ll pay when this is all done.”
“Don’t worry about that now,” said Gabe, leaning forward on the couch. “You need to lay low for a while. Don’t bring attention to yourself and don’t try to confront Pete again. We do need to know where we can find him though.”
Nate nodded as Greta patted his back, trying to be as comforting as possible. “Him and his crew hang around Haveli. It’s this quiet Indian restaurant downtown behind the Westin. They pay the owners to not rat them out, so they talk somewhat openly about their plans. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“We’ll find out for ourselves,” Gabe said, rising up from the couch. “We’ll let you know what we need, but right now, you need to find somewhere to stay that isn’t your apartment.”
“Well, could he stay here,” Greta asked.
“Probably not,” said Butch, scratching at his ear. “We could be traced back here if our cover is blown. It’s probably best to stay with a friend, but we will keep contact.”
Nate nodded and Gabe put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Nate. We have this.”
Part 4
If you want to get someone’s attention, lethal force usually isn’t the way to go. Things get messy and you’ll rarely ever get what you want. If you make people think that you might actually use lethal force, then getting someone’s attention and getting what you want out of them gets a hell of a lot easier.
“Gabe, tell me something.”
“Yeah Butch?”
“How did the cashier not catch the fact you’re trying to make a bomb?”
Gabe looked up from the materials he had laid out on his mattress. “It’s not going to be a bomb!”
“Gabe, please,” Butch said with a rather sarcastic look. “You’re talking to someone who’s had to deal with multiple bomb scares in his line of work. That shit makes a very basic one, but with the right amount of explosives, you can make a scene. Or at least flash bang the hell out of someone if that’s your bag.”
Gabe grumbled. “It’s not a bomb, Butch. Well, not really. It just needs to look like one. I need to get Bob’s attention somehow.”
“So I don’t need to talk you down from the ledge of blowing up your former employers?”
“No.”
A pause. A slurp of coffee. “Was it at least fun to bug the FBI agents?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, a very low rumble came from outside. It came to a stop and was followed by the slamming of a car door. “Hey Gabe! Are you back yet?!”
Gabe turned towards the open window at the sound of Greta’s voice. He looked out the window and did a double take when he saw her.
Or rather, the car she was standing by.
“Greta, how in the hell did you get a Mustang? I thought you were turning the rental back in, not getting a new one!”
“I’m not renting it,” Greta shouted, “I own it! I managed to persuade the owner to sell it to me. I have a few favors I have to do regarding his son, but it’s worth it.”
Gabe looked over at Butch with confusion. Butch just shrugged. With a sigh, he looked back out the window. “It’s not sexual, right?”
“No,” Greta said sternly. “Besides, why would you care if it was?”
“I just... no... forget it.”
Gabe popped his head back in the window. As he sat back down on the mattress, he noticed the smug look of amusement on Butch’s face. “What? What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing, man.”
He took another sip of his coffee and went off towards his room, a grin still on his face. Gabe shook his head and reached for the screwdriver in the pile of materials. He had a long night of work ahead of him.
-----------------
Gabe had gotten about three hours of sleep before the usual morning routine had woken him up. Butch and Chris were trying to figure out who’s turn it was to use the shower first that week right outside his door, there was a slight bustle of voices, feet, and scraping coming from downstairs and the lights in his room had flickered on and off a few times while Greta was trying to figure out which switch turned on the bathroom lights.
Still, his project was done. While it was in no way functional, he had constructed what looked like a very basic homemade bomb that would be rigged to a detonator. All it needed was slipshod packaging addressed to Bob’s office and he would be good to go. Sure, it didn’t work, but his secretary and the mailroom boy didn’t need to know that.
When Gabe finally rolled off the mattress to join the others in the morning rush, he felt groggy. He hadn’t really been able to sleep peacefully since he was dropped in Atlanta, but it’s not like he had expected that. He had fallen asleep to the sound of mortars before. Sleeping in a Victorian style house that echoed on a crappy mattress with a few broken ribs felt like nothing in comparison, but it was still a pain.
Gabe felt a pat on his shoulder and snapped out of his spell. He looked over to see Butch standing next to him in just a towel. “Hey, it’s your turn to use the shower. I tried to save you some hot water, but I don’t know how much the others used.”
“Thanks,” Gabe said, still feeling sleepy, “It doesn’t matter that much to me, but thanks.”
Butch patted his shoulder again and went off towards his room. “Let me know if you need any clothes. Greta says you’ve been wearing the same suit since Colombia.”
Gabe groaned. He had completely forgotten the fact he had been wearing the same set of clothes for almost a week. His other clothes were somewhere in Colombia, never to be seen again.
Trying not to think about it, Gabe dragged himself to the bathroom and into the shower. The water managed to stay warm for about five minutes before it quickly switched to cold. Gabe felt himself wake up then as he had flashbacks to his days in boot camp.
As soon as he dried himself off, he trudged back to his room to see that Butch had left him some clothes on the mattress anyway. The jeans felt a bit tight, so Gabe switched back to the suit pants he had been wearing. The one black button down shirt in the pile did fit, so he tossed it on and went downstairs to meet the others.
Everyone was spread out. Chris and the other housemate Gabe assumed was Darren were sitting in the living room, talking about the night the other housemate had, Fran was sitting out on the wrap around porch, playing around with his guitar, and Butch and Greta were sitting in the kitchen as she audibly shifted through the contents of the fridge.
“I’m just saying, I’m not really a huge fan of Turkey Bacon.”
“Really, Greta? No, wait. Why am I even asking? You hate most everything.”
The fridge door closed with a rather loud thud. “I do not.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but in the years I’ve known you, you haven’t proved otherwise.”
Gabe rolled his eyes as he started to walk into the kitchen. “Will you two lay off?”
The two looked over at him as he walked in. “Sorry, Gabe,” Butch said before returning to his plate.
Greta shrugged as she opened the fridge again. “I’m not.”
Gabe just shook his head and walked into the kitchen behind her. “Butch, where’s the closest post office?”
“It’s in Little 5,” he said, sticking his fork into his mouth. “You mailing off the Not Bomb?”
“Yep. The sooner I can ship it off to Bob, the better.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that. I’d join you and try to make mailing off your suspicious package easier, but I have an appointment here in like...”
He looked towards the clock on the opposite wall. “Foooorty five minutes.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow at him. “Appointment? I thought you retired?”
“I am,” he said, reaching for his mug. “I just take freelance on occasion for extra money.”
“Which you might want to consider doing considering you’re out of a job right now,” Greta said as she pulled a package of bread from the fridge. “You have rent you need to pay, you know. And new clothes. Plus, no one else is going to hire you when all your references refuse to acknowledge your existence.”
“Yeah, I know,” Gabe said with a sigh as he reached over Greta to grab a container of yogurt from the fridge. “I just hope I won’t be jobless for very long.”
“Still,” Butch said over the rim of his mug. “It might be good if you were here for this one. I might need some help if it’s as bad as the kid made it sound.”
“Don’t you have other people to help you,” Gabe asked, opening the container of yogurt. “You pretty much know everyone ever.”
Butch sighed and reached across his chest, rubbing his right shoulder. “It’s a hard sell sometimes.”
Gabe blinked at Butch, feeling curious about his reaction, but decided not to push the issue. “I’ll sit in after I get the package mailed off.”
Butch smiled a little bit at Gabe. “Thanks, man.”
Gabe said nothing, but gave him a slight smile as he picked a spoon off the counter and began to dig into the yogurt. “Greta, you want to give me a ride into Little 5?”
“Maybe,” she said as she placed some bread into the toaster. “Can’t you get your new FBI friends to give you a ride like they did yesterday? Or you could... y’know... walk?”
“You really think me holding a fake bomb in a car with two disgruntled FBI agents or walking around with one is really a good idea?”
There was a long pause between them as Greta mulled the question over. Finally, she sighed and pressed down on the toaster. “Just promise me you won’t bring attention to yourself?”
“I’ll try, but I make no promises. You know that attention flocks towards me at the worst times.”
“Gabe, I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
She stared blankly for a few seconds before shaking her head. “Yeah... I guess you are.”
The toaster popped up and Greta turned to retrieve her breakfast. “Let me eat first?”
“Of course.” He put the yogurt down on the counter and began to head back upstairs. “You’re an angel, Greta Morgan Salpeter.”
“And you’re full of it, Gabriel Eduardo Saporta.”
Gabe was already heading up the stairs when she said that, but behind him, he could faintly hear Butch say, “Are you sure you two aren’t dating anymore? Or can I just not tell the difference from when you were?”
“Butch, shut up and finish your eggs.”
----------------
Greta knocked on the window of the car. “Okay, I got the packaging.”
Gabe rolled the window down and Greta passed him a paper bag. Inside, he could see packing tape, stamps and a sharpie. He figured he could stuff the not bomb in the bag and work from there. “Thanks, Greta.”
“Make it quick,” she said, turning her back to him and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. “I’m not getting arrested for being your accomplice... again.”
He smirked as he rolled the window back up. Quickly, he dumped everything in the bag on the driver’s seat and pulled the not bomb from the backseat floor. He stuffed it into the bag, crumpling and curling the sides down to conceal it. He then reached over to grab the packing tape. “Alright, let’s see if we can make you suspicious enough...”
-----------------
“Did you use the whole roll of tape?”
“Not the whole thing. Maybe like... half...”
Greta shook her head as Gabe walked over to the mailbox with the suspicious package in hand. The sharpie hand writing on the front was scratchy, the whole thing was covered in tape and he used the whole pack of stamps in the top right corner. There was no return address, but Gabe did leave one calling card...
“I see you still use the cobra drawing. Why?”
“Can’t beat the classics, Greta. Besides, how else is he going to know it’s from me?”
“Well, who else is going to send him a fake bomb to get someone to call him.”
Gabe paused as he opened up the slot to the mailbox. “Well, you have a point there.”
He slid the package in and dusted his hands off as soon as the slot slammed closed. “Done!”
“Good. Let’s just hope it works for you.”
Gabe smirked as they walked back to her car. “I appreciate your support. It means a lot to me.”
She looked up at him with pursed lips. “If you pretend to start crying, I’m making you walk back.”
Still, Gabe couldn’t help but notice the slight smile on her face as she walked towards the driver’s side.
----------------
Gabe and Greta were barely in the door when Butch jumped up and called out to them from the living room. “Oh! Guys! You’re here! Awesome! You might be able to help on this one.”
The two of them turned to look at each other, but Butch’s look turned serious and desperate. Like the situation was worse than Butch had originally thought.
Gabe sighed and began to walk into the living room, but he froze when he saw who was sitting in the chair across from Butch. “Nate?”
When you’re a spy, you always need to be prepared for your past coming back to haunt you when you least expect it. Still, nothing can prepare you for seeing a childhood friend in your living room with a black eye and his arm in a sling.
Nate stood up to greet Gabe with a weak smile. “Gabe! God, I haven’t seen you in forever.”
He reached out his hand to Gabe and gave him a brief hug. When they pulled apart, Nate looked up at him. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been better,” Gabe said, sitting down on the couch.
Greta took a spot on the couch, looking at Gabe curiously. “You know him?”
“I moved from Atlanta to New York when I was eleven,” Nate said, looking over at Greta. “Gabe and I lived in the same neighborhood. He was sort of the neighborhood bad kid, but he was also the first person to protect us if we were having trouble with neighborhood bullies. Then he went off to the army and my family moved back to Atlanta a couple of years after that. We haven’t seen each other since.”
Greta smirked a little. “Well, I guess some things never change.”
“What are you doing here,” Gabe asked, ignoring Greta. “What happened to you?”
Nate shifted uneasily in his chair, but Butch reached over and gently patted his knee. “Don’t worry. Just tell them what you told me.”
He nodded and sat up straight in his chair. “Well, it started with my roommate Victoria. She’s a part-time model and she really wants to go full time. Always has terrible luck with it though. Until recently, it seemed.”
He looked down at his lap for a few seconds, then back at them. “She met this guy named Pete, said he could help her go full time. She was so excited. She couldn’t stop talking about it. She left one day for a shoot, but didn’t come back that night. Or the next night. Or the next.”
Nate shifted again in his chair. Greta then got up and sat down across from Nate, reaching for his hand. “Don’t worry. Keep talking. You’re safe here.”
She smiled gently at him. Nate gave her an uneasy smile, took a deep breath, and continued. “I tried to file a missing persons report, but some guys came to my place and busted up my car with golf clubs. Said I’d be next if I kept asking questions. Of course, I was scared, but I wasn’t going to back down. I found the guy’s business card and asked around town about him. Heard some bad things about selling girls. I went on his turf and tried to confront him about it, but he just snapped his fingers and his guys dragged me out to a parking garage. Broke my arm. Gave me a black eye. Bruised a few ribs. Broke one of them. Told me there would be worse if I came back. After that, the police mysteriously lose the report. I had a friend suggest that I talk to Butch, saying I might have a chance of finding Victoria if I could get his help. So... here I am.”
The room fell into silence when Nate finished. Greta rubbed his hand gently before he looked up at the three of them. “So... can you help me?”
“I think so,” said Butch hopefully. “Well, I know I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t speak for these two.”
“I’m in,” Greta said, gently squeezing Nate’s hand. “You don’t deserve this and neither does Victoria.”
They all looked over at Gabe, waiting for his answer. He looked down as his knees for what seemed like forever. He knew that it would be the right thing to do, but he wondered if getting involved would get back to his former bosses. If it would put a dent in any sort of progress for his burn notice. Plus, how did Nate know that Victoria was still in town? She could have easily been shipped off already...
“Gabe? Are you here?”
Gabe looked up at Greta, who was still holding onto Nate’s hand. The unease in Nate’s expressions gave Gabe the answer he needed. He couldn’t let this happen to an old friend. He gave Nate a slight smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Nate sighed in relief when Gabe answered him. “Thank you. All of you. I’ll pay when this is all done.”
“Don’t worry about that now,” said Gabe, leaning forward on the couch. “You need to lay low for a while. Don’t bring attention to yourself and don’t try to confront Pete again. We do need to know where we can find him though.”
Nate nodded as Greta patted his back, trying to be as comforting as possible. “Him and his crew hang around Haveli. It’s this quiet Indian restaurant downtown behind the Westin. They pay the owners to not rat them out, so they talk somewhat openly about their plans. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“We’ll find out for ourselves,” Gabe said, rising up from the couch. “We’ll let you know what we need, but right now, you need to find somewhere to stay that isn’t your apartment.”
“Well, could he stay here,” Greta asked.
“Probably not,” said Butch, scratching at his ear. “We could be traced back here if our cover is blown. It’s probably best to stay with a friend, but we will keep contact.”
Nate nodded and Gabe put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Nate. We have this.”
Part 4