Leverage Fic: The Black Mask Job
Title: The Black Mask Job - part one of three -
Rating: PG-13 to R
Pairings: Nothing you wouldn't see in your average episode of Leverage. So you know, Nate/Sophie, Parker/Hardison, and Eliot/kicking ass and taking names. (Although Sterling keeps trying to be more evil and a pain in the ass than usual. So be warned; especially if your name is Tara Cole.)
Author's Note: Stylistically, what makes an episode of Leverage and episode of Leverage is the way the twist in a con is revealed to the audience. As my main goal for this story was to really make it feel like an episode of Leverage, the con flashbacks will be denoted by italicized text when the time is right. Thanks to my beta hollymac_79. All sentence fragments left in on purpose. Enjoy the story! Leave a comment if you are moved to do so. Constructive crit. is always welcome.
It wasn't until Nathan Ford could feel the strong arms of the paramedics lifting him into the ambulance that he allowed himself to take his eyes off the sky. He hadn't really noticed as the FBI agents cut him free of the hand cuffs securing him to the ship. Nor did he really recall being carried off the ship and onto the dock. The helicopter carrying his team, his family, away to safety had receded into the distance minutes before. He was tired and more than willing to let the EMT's do their work. Hell, at this point he was so delirious from the pain radiating from the gunshot wound in his side he wouldn't have batted an eye at anyone giving him a hand. Even Jim Sterling. The Bastard.
Not letting his former friend out of his sight, the newly recruited Interpol agent jumped into the back of the ambulance before the doors closed. Agent Nivens snapped her head around as Sterling was closing the ambulance door.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?!"
Sterling didn't even dignify the question with an answer, slamming the door before Niven's words had even finished reaching his ears, really.
Stupid woman. There was no way that he was letting Nathan Ford and his only chance at making a case against one of the most notorious gun runners in the world out of his sight. None.
From now until dear old Nate testifies in court, he would be joined to the Mastermind's hip.
And if any of Nate's crew came after him?
Well, they would have quite a nasty surprise in store for them.
Quite a nasty surprise, indeed.
----- -
Parker wanted to tell someone and soon. It was important they get far away from Boston and avoid police at all cost. What she needed to say was really important though. If she didn't say something soon, it would all end sooo very badly.
"I have to pee."
Eliot, driving their get-away car, rented and registered to one of Sophie's numerous aliases, blinked at the thief's reflection in the rear view mirror.
"Seriously, Parker?" he growled
Sophie, ready with well-practiced empathy, turned in the front passenger seat taking stock of the youngest member of the team.
"Parker, can't you hold it for just a little bit longer? We're only a few miles from the landing site. If I know Sterling, he'll have the ID numbers on the helicopter traced and check every airport in the region for it. We need to make good time." Sophie cocked her head. Sometimes Parker was a challenge to read. Leaning forward, Sophie took a gamble placing her hand on Parkers knee.
"Getting caught won't help..."
She couldn't even say his name. Not now. Not until they had him back safe, saving him from himself . . . again.
Parker pursed her lips. She wanted to help Nate. She wanted to stay free so she could help the team rescue him from the clutches of Evil Nate. But . . .
When you have to go, you have to go. You know?
Parker shifted forward her 'serious' look set in the lines of her face.
"O.k. Someone pass me a cup then."
"Aw, HELL no! That ain't right!"
Hardison, who had been sitting snuggly with Parker in the back seat, leaned back against the door. "Parker, women don't use cups!"
Parker scrunched her nose, perplexed. "Yeah. It's what you do on road trips when you want to make good time." Said like a woman who had never been on a road trip in her life.
Sophie just shook her head and turned back to face the road.
Eliot, who wouldn't normally pass up an opportunity to point out there was something wrong with Parker, had been keeping his eyes on the road.
Taping the AAA symbol on the on-board GPS screen he was able to pull up a real-time map of the surrounding highway system.
When Sophie arranged a rescue, she really did go for broke.
Annoyed growl still coloring his voice, he glanced back at Parker who was starting to bounce in her seat a little.
"There's a rest stop in twenty miles. You can hold it 'till then."
There was no question in the retrieval specialist's voice.
Parker sat back, crossed her legs and let out a huff of air that sent strands of her blond hair fluttering away from her eyes.
"Fine."
----- -
James Sterling was highly annoyed.
When Sterling was annoyed at this level most warm blooded animals with their survival instincts functioning normally would understand that being near an annoyed James Sterling was much like facing an unpredictable predator on a stretch of veldt.
Unfortunately, the FBI agent manning the evidence desk at the Boston field office wasn't in touch with his inner primate. As a consequence, he didn't know that now would be a really great time to scramble to the safety of the highest branch of the tallest tree he could find.
Not that it would have occurred to him.
Evidence Guy was busy defending himself and his territory in his own way. The tried and true way of the government bureaucrat, a bureaucrat with a license to carry a concealed firearm.
"Listen, kid, it was all on the up and up. She had the proper forms and everything. Why would that raise any kind of flag, huh?"
Face red with barely contained ire, Sterling's usually cool siren of a voice built into a crescendo as each word shot out of his mouth. "Because Tara Jones is not FBI!"
Taking a breath Sterling fixed the Evidence Guy with his best I-think-you-are-an-incompetent-moron-but-I will-tolerate-you-because-you-have-something-I-need look.
Evidence Guy's affable demeanor all but disappeared and the 20-year bureau veteran pulled himself to his full height.
"Here, kid." Evidence Guy turned around and walked to just inside the evidence room. Pulling out a gray Rubbermaid container he strode back to the desk and proceeded to dump its contents onto the orderly, clean desktop.
A charred slag of plastic, paper, and magnesium residue plopped out with a sad, anticlimactic thunk.
Evidence Guy fixed Sterling with his best I-think-you're-nothing-but-a-limey-punk-on-a-power trip look.
"Now, this was supposed to go to the lab geeks. But you seem like a sharp guy. Maybe you can tell us something they can't."
Incredulous, Sterling looked from the ruined container of evidence against Kajic back to the OH so helpful agent.
"Oh, really? How very passive -aggressive of you."
It was clear that he wasn't going to learn anything here. Sadly, he had hoped, though past experience and better judgment had indicated otherwise, that he may be able to find something to hold over Nate. Even something little to undo the ex-insurance investigator's ridiculous gambit.
Nate thought he had everything figured out. Probably even thought he was going to be getting away scott-free by giving Sterling his token testimony. Sterling wanted there to be no reasonable doubt. He wanted something more than the pictures of Nate and their substitute grifter with Culpepper.
If Nathan Ford wanted to be a thief then he'd be treated like one. No more benefit of the doubt. No more deals.
He was going to jail. If Sterling played it just right, so would Ford's crew.
Before he could tell Evidence Guy where exactly he could stick the useless slag of 'evidence', his cell phone began chirping in his pocket.
"Sterling. What is it now?"
"This is Dr. Monroe at Boston General.
You asked to be notified when Mr. Ford came out of surgery. He's doing well and resting comfortably in recovery ward A."
Sterling snapped his cell shut and headed out the door without another word.
"Huh. For once, I'm glad that jerk didn't stay to talk longer."
----- -
"Man, why's it always take women longer to go to the bathroom?"
Hardison leaned against the back of the champagne colored sedan that Sophie had rented. Well, more like liberated from an Enterprise in South Boston. It was more than likely that they would be abandoning this mode of transportation soon enough. Who knows if it would get back to where it came from?
"Eliot? Ya feel me? There's, like, no line and they've been in there 10 minutes."
If Eliot has registered any of the noise emanating from the hacker's mouth, he showed no sign. The hitter was busy scanning their surroundings for the slightest threat.
Sure, they'd made good time but not enough for his taste.
There was still a long way to go before he'd allow himself to take a breath and think about anything other than their immediate needs. He couldn't afford to rage against Sterling. He couldn't afford to be angry at Nate for making them leave him behind when he was hurt.
Eliot was pretty sure that none of the others had noticed that Nate had taken a bullet. Dam it! He knew he shouldn't have left Nate. But he'd got in the damn chopper because Nate told him to do it. Nate has the Plan. Nate is the keeper of The Big Picture. Nate sacrificed himself so they could get away. He did Eliot's job for him. If the bullet didn't get him, Eliot would. Dam it!
Eliot closed his eyes for a second to calm himself. There'd be time to kick Nate's sorry Irish ass later.
First, he had to take care of his team. Or Nate would kick his ass.
Okay, okay. Nate would TRY to kick his ass. After a bottle of whiskey. . . or two.
"Well it's about time!" Hardison immediately slid over the hood of the car Dukes of Hazard-style. "Shotgun!"
Sophie walked down the grassy hill from the dingy restrooms, the picture of lady-like grace, her new favorite pair of Jimmy Choo's creating divots in the ground. Admidantly, not foot wear designed for the sun-burnt grass and pock-marked concrete of a Highway rest stop, but still fabulous none the less.
She stopped at Hardison's cry of shotgun and looked around in alarm for a moment, thinking the FBI, or worse Sterling, had caught up with them.
By the time she recovered, chiefly because Eliot had simply dropped his head and shook it as he got in the car and Parker got into the car by vaulting herself through a rolled down window and into the back seat; did she get in herself.
Eliot pulled out of the rest stop and onto the interstate.
"Sophie, where we headin'? North's gonna need to get specific soon or we're gonna end up in Canada."
Sophie took out her cell phone and entered an address which caused a pin point to pop up on the GPS unit's map.
Hardison grinned. "Look at you with your paired device! If I didn't know better I'd think you'd been paying attention to my end of the jobs."
Sophie rolled her eyes at the enthusiastically geeky hacker.
"Yes, er, the nice boy at the rental place was happy to help a tourist."
Hardison tapped the pin on the screen.
A stilted male computer voice helpfully began to read out driving directions.
"Merge right onto Colonial Parkway from I95 north, 5 miles," the digital voice intoned.
"Why, thank you, Stephen."
Parker leaned into the front seat, her chin hovering over Hardison's shoulder.
"Hardison, how do you know its name?" she whispered.
Hardison flinched a little discovering Parker so close to his face. For a moment he flashed back to the two David's fiasco, remembering the warmth of Parkers lips. That little make out secession had only been an excuse to get down to the restoration room. But Hardison wished . . .
"Did it tell you? Ooo! Can you talk to computers now without a keyboard like in Tron?"
Hardison focused back to the Parker of the moment. He didn't know where to start. His heart did, skipping a geeky little beat at the fact she'd seen Tron.
"Uh, naw, naw, Parker. It was a joke. You know, cuz the GPS voice sounds like Stephen Hawking."
Parker just stared at Hardison.
"Steven who?"
"Famous physicist. Crippled by a disease so he can't talk. Uses a computer program that simulates human speech."
"Like a cyborg. Cool!"
Hardison ran his hand over his face. So beautiful and yet so wrong.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Eliot slapped his open hand on the dash causing Parker to backpedal to the back seat like a frightened cat.
"Sit down. We don't need to be gettin' pulled over 'cause some cop sees you bouncin' around the car!"
Sophie, startled by the way Eliot snapped at Parker and less by his sudden abuse of the dashboard, was at a loss for words. In all their time together she had never seen Eliot raise his voice to Parker in that fashion.
Sure, he'd shout, make a lot of growl-ly noises, but there had never be a hint of real violence behind it. To be honest, she'd always thought the dynamic between the younger members of the team had become more like squabbling siblings. It was kind of adorable sometimes.
Eliot blew a few strands of loose hair out of his face. The longer they were on the road the higher the chances were of being noticed, pulled over, or tracked down by any number of LEO's in the region. Photos of the team had undoubtedly been sent in an APB before they had even landed at the airport.
Eliot gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "So where are we goin' exactly, Sophie?"
"A little cabin I have in the country. We should be safe long enough to gather our wits and get what we need get our act together before..."
Eliot glanced side ways at the grifter.
"You have a cabin?"
Sophie looked at him and shrugged. When she had bought the place about a year ago, she had someone very specific in mind. It was supposed to be a birthday gift, but things fell apart so quickly, it had never been given to... that someone.
Sighing heavily, she acknowledged, "It was the first place I thought of when Tara called me. I think it will be a good place to hide as long as we keep a low profile. The neighbors are close, but not too close and there's tree cover."
Eliot nodded in approval. Now they just had to get there.
----- -
Waking up in the hospital hadn't been fun. First off, Nate was disappointed and then embarrassed when he mistook the dark-haired nurse tending to his I.V. lines for Sophie. Then there was the ever so pleasant realization that he was lashed to the bed with padded medical restraints. Of course he would have been monumentally pissed if the team had come after him, but kind of touched and gratified too. You know, just because he was a thief doesn't mean he couldn't be honest. Honest with himself, anyway. At least that part of his life had crystallized somewhat in the past few weeks.
Now Nathan Ford was putting his 30 days of laying on his ass in a hospital behind him sitting on his ass in a Spartan interrogation room in the Boston FBI offices, handcuffed to the single most uncomfortable chair he has ever been handcuffed to in his life.
It was long past time for him to take the remainder of his pain meds. his incision site, still pink around his brand new scar was aching in a supremely annoying fashion. It had been a week since he had been discharged from Boston General and remanded into federal custody. This was his second trip to this very room with Agent Nivens and her colleagues. He was certain that they were biding their time for Sterling to return from where ever it was he'd slithered off. Nate found it odd that they had come up with excuse after excuse to keep him more or less in FBI custody. Sure, they said that they were putting him under protection as a cooperating witness. But the cuff on his left wrist keeping him in this god forsaken chair made his civil rights feel awfully violated. After all, they hadn't charged him with anything though they certainly were treating him like they had. He couldn't even sneeze without an agent offering him a tissue.
Or go to the restroom with out a badge-wielding buddy. Or go to bed at night without having a federally sanctioned bedtime story read to him.
Nate shifted forward to get some circulation back to his lower extremities. Even his toes were falling asleep.
For the next, oh, Nate figured it had been about twenty minutes; he drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
They could have at least given him a cross word to work while he waited.
On the other side of the two-way glass, Agent Nivens was staring intently at Nathan Ford. If everything that Sterling had told her was true, this guy wasn't going to simply hand over a straight forward confession all wrapped up in a little bow with his testimony against Kajic. He knew the system. More importantly, he knew how to work the system because he had been apart of the system for twenty years of his life.
At this point, she was almost willing to let him walk in exchange for the information on Kajic. She hated it, but in the big picture, Kajic was the bigger bad in this situation. It was only a matter of time before Ford and his crew were caught. They might specialize in scamming bad guys, but that was still breaking the law. A look at his crew's wrap sheets told her that these weren't exactly the most altruistic people on the planet.
Hell, Eliot Spencer was suspected of enough violent crimes to put him away for several life terms.
That was the problem. Except for a few incidents involving Sophie Deavreaux, Ford's crew were linked to the crimes on their wrap sheets by largely circumstantial evidence and hearsay from the less than upstanding citizens that employed them. Of course, that's only when anything could be linked to them at all. Each one of them had been implicated in multiple crimes but never caught. Not even by their so called mastermind sitting on the other side of the glass. There was a time when Ford would have been on this side of the glass with her getting a confession out of some thief or scam artist. Now, Nathan Ford was a thief and a scam artist.
What had happened to this guy that made him go so completely off the reservation?
Who was this guy, really?
----- -
Eliot Spencer was in a dangerous line of work to say the least. He always thought that if he survived it, he'd come to a point in his life where he'd be finished with the violence and live the rest of whatever he had left quietly retired in the country. Maybe in a cozy house on a little patch of land with enough room to support a couple of horses. That's what he thought on the rare occasions he was in a hopeful mood.
This little house in the middle of nowhere Vermont was kind of great. Sophie hadn't done a half bad job picking it out. Far enough away from the world for peace and quiet, but not so totally removed that he couldn't hang at a bar if he really wanted. Not to mention it was easily defended and set a full acre back from the road.
Too bad he was being hunted by every LEO within 1,000 miles.
Worse, he'd been cooped up in the little cabin with a bunch of city-poisoned thieves gone stir crazy. On the plus side, it had taken them over thirty days to get to this point. If he'd laid down money on the odds it would have taken his team this long for the stress to get to them, he'd have been out some cash. Still . . .
He could hear Hardison and Sophie arguing in the main room all the way back in the kitchen. Not a considerable distance away, mind you. They weren't exactly keeping their voice down, though.
Of the barely edible canned goods in the pantry Eliot hand scrounged enough together to make a casserole. It's not quite dinnertime, and technically he'd cleared out all the good , fresh remainders of the pantry cooking the other two meals and three snacks earlier in the day. It was harder for Eliot to go to his happy Iron Chef place now than it had been after any other job they'd ever pulled.
It'd been over a week since they'd settled into the little cabin. Hardison kept busy doing what he could to set up his Hacker den. Parker mostly climbed trees only coming down to make an initial trip into town for basic supplies. Eliot was pretty sure she'd even slept in the bough of an old oak out back a couple nights when they first arrived at the cabin.
Sophie, as she was doing right now, was keeping busy by constantly pestering Hardison for updates on Nate. Hardison was still rattled from what went down in Bellbridge, Eliot knew he'd been going out of his way to keep his digital presence to a minimum. After all, the FBI and various other governmental alphabet organizations employed hackers just as talented as Hardison. Alec had been spooked and was even more paranoid that usual.
They had been able to get confirmation that Nate was on ice in federal custody. But no much more than that. The initial tension that had hung heavily over the group had eased a little. They knew where he was, still in Boston, and now they could start figuring out how to get him back.
Fortunately, the others still didn't know that Nate had been hurt. To Eliot, that meant that he could keep everyone from fraying too much more at the edges. They could take their time and not let their concern for Nate and his well being over ride the common sense that would otherwise keep them from rushing into things before they were really, truly ready.
The only thing that truly bothered Eliot as he slid his casserole on to stovetop to cool was the one wild card in this situation that couldn't be accounted for.
Sterling.
He was out there. No doubt he'd tracked the chopper and found the rental car.
Eliot could almost feel him out there somewhere just biding his time.
Well, Sterling could plan and scheme all he wanted.
When Eliot finally caught up with him, the smug bastard was gonna have a nasty surprise.
Sterling was gonna have a real nasty surprise.
- end part one -
Rating: PG-13 to R
Pairings: Nothing you wouldn't see in your average episode of Leverage. So you know, Nate/Sophie, Parker/Hardison, and Eliot/kicking ass and taking names. (Although Sterling keeps trying to be more evil and a pain in the ass than usual. So be warned; especially if your name is Tara Cole.)
Author's Note: Stylistically, what makes an episode of Leverage and episode of Leverage is the way the twist in a con is revealed to the audience. As my main goal for this story was to really make it feel like an episode of Leverage, the con flashbacks will be denoted by italicized text when the time is right. Thanks to my beta hollymac_79. All sentence fragments left in on purpose. Enjoy the story! Leave a comment if you are moved to do so. Constructive crit. is always welcome.
It wasn't until Nathan Ford could feel the strong arms of the paramedics lifting him into the ambulance that he allowed himself to take his eyes off the sky. He hadn't really noticed as the FBI agents cut him free of the hand cuffs securing him to the ship. Nor did he really recall being carried off the ship and onto the dock. The helicopter carrying his team, his family, away to safety had receded into the distance minutes before. He was tired and more than willing to let the EMT's do their work. Hell, at this point he was so delirious from the pain radiating from the gunshot wound in his side he wouldn't have batted an eye at anyone giving him a hand. Even Jim Sterling. The Bastard.
Not letting his former friend out of his sight, the newly recruited Interpol agent jumped into the back of the ambulance before the doors closed. Agent Nivens snapped her head around as Sterling was closing the ambulance door.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?!"
Sterling didn't even dignify the question with an answer, slamming the door before Niven's words had even finished reaching his ears, really.
Stupid woman. There was no way that he was letting Nathan Ford and his only chance at making a case against one of the most notorious gun runners in the world out of his sight. None.
From now until dear old Nate testifies in court, he would be joined to the Mastermind's hip.
And if any of Nate's crew came after him?
Well, they would have quite a nasty surprise in store for them.
Quite a nasty surprise, indeed.
----- -
Parker wanted to tell someone and soon. It was important they get far away from Boston and avoid police at all cost. What she needed to say was really important though. If she didn't say something soon, it would all end sooo very badly.
"I have to pee."
Eliot, driving their get-away car, rented and registered to one of Sophie's numerous aliases, blinked at the thief's reflection in the rear view mirror.
"Seriously, Parker?" he growled
Sophie, ready with well-practiced empathy, turned in the front passenger seat taking stock of the youngest member of the team.
"Parker, can't you hold it for just a little bit longer? We're only a few miles from the landing site. If I know Sterling, he'll have the ID numbers on the helicopter traced and check every airport in the region for it. We need to make good time." Sophie cocked her head. Sometimes Parker was a challenge to read. Leaning forward, Sophie took a gamble placing her hand on Parkers knee.
"Getting caught won't help..."
She couldn't even say his name. Not now. Not until they had him back safe, saving him from himself . . . again.
Parker pursed her lips. She wanted to help Nate. She wanted to stay free so she could help the team rescue him from the clutches of Evil Nate. But . . .
When you have to go, you have to go. You know?
Parker shifted forward her 'serious' look set in the lines of her face.
"O.k. Someone pass me a cup then."
"Aw, HELL no! That ain't right!"
Hardison, who had been sitting snuggly with Parker in the back seat, leaned back against the door. "Parker, women don't use cups!"
Parker scrunched her nose, perplexed. "Yeah. It's what you do on road trips when you want to make good time." Said like a woman who had never been on a road trip in her life.
Sophie just shook her head and turned back to face the road.
Eliot, who wouldn't normally pass up an opportunity to point out there was something wrong with Parker, had been keeping his eyes on the road.
Taping the AAA symbol on the on-board GPS screen he was able to pull up a real-time map of the surrounding highway system.
When Sophie arranged a rescue, she really did go for broke.
Annoyed growl still coloring his voice, he glanced back at Parker who was starting to bounce in her seat a little.
"There's a rest stop in twenty miles. You can hold it 'till then."
There was no question in the retrieval specialist's voice.
Parker sat back, crossed her legs and let out a huff of air that sent strands of her blond hair fluttering away from her eyes.
"Fine."
----- -
James Sterling was highly annoyed.
When Sterling was annoyed at this level most warm blooded animals with their survival instincts functioning normally would understand that being near an annoyed James Sterling was much like facing an unpredictable predator on a stretch of veldt.
Unfortunately, the FBI agent manning the evidence desk at the Boston field office wasn't in touch with his inner primate. As a consequence, he didn't know that now would be a really great time to scramble to the safety of the highest branch of the tallest tree he could find.
Not that it would have occurred to him.
Evidence Guy was busy defending himself and his territory in his own way. The tried and true way of the government bureaucrat, a bureaucrat with a license to carry a concealed firearm.
"Listen, kid, it was all on the up and up. She had the proper forms and everything. Why would that raise any kind of flag, huh?"
Face red with barely contained ire, Sterling's usually cool siren of a voice built into a crescendo as each word shot out of his mouth. "Because Tara Jones is not FBI!"
Taking a breath Sterling fixed the Evidence Guy with his best I-think-you-are-an-incompetent-moron-but-I will-tolerate-you-because-you-have-something-I-need look.
Evidence Guy's affable demeanor all but disappeared and the 20-year bureau veteran pulled himself to his full height.
"Here, kid." Evidence Guy turned around and walked to just inside the evidence room. Pulling out a gray Rubbermaid container he strode back to the desk and proceeded to dump its contents onto the orderly, clean desktop.
A charred slag of plastic, paper, and magnesium residue plopped out with a sad, anticlimactic thunk.
Evidence Guy fixed Sterling with his best I-think-you're-nothing-but-a-limey-punk-on-a-power trip look.
"Now, this was supposed to go to the lab geeks. But you seem like a sharp guy. Maybe you can tell us something they can't."
Incredulous, Sterling looked from the ruined container of evidence against Kajic back to the OH so helpful agent.
"Oh, really? How very passive -aggressive of you."
It was clear that he wasn't going to learn anything here. Sadly, he had hoped, though past experience and better judgment had indicated otherwise, that he may be able to find something to hold over Nate. Even something little to undo the ex-insurance investigator's ridiculous gambit.
Nate thought he had everything figured out. Probably even thought he was going to be getting away scott-free by giving Sterling his token testimony. Sterling wanted there to be no reasonable doubt. He wanted something more than the pictures of Nate and their substitute grifter with Culpepper.
If Nathan Ford wanted to be a thief then he'd be treated like one. No more benefit of the doubt. No more deals.
He was going to jail. If Sterling played it just right, so would Ford's crew.
Before he could tell Evidence Guy where exactly he could stick the useless slag of 'evidence', his cell phone began chirping in his pocket.
"Sterling. What is it now?"
"This is Dr. Monroe at Boston General.
You asked to be notified when Mr. Ford came out of surgery. He's doing well and resting comfortably in recovery ward A."
Sterling snapped his cell shut and headed out the door without another word.
"Huh. For once, I'm glad that jerk didn't stay to talk longer."
----- -
"Man, why's it always take women longer to go to the bathroom?"
Hardison leaned against the back of the champagne colored sedan that Sophie had rented. Well, more like liberated from an Enterprise in South Boston. It was more than likely that they would be abandoning this mode of transportation soon enough. Who knows if it would get back to where it came from?
"Eliot? Ya feel me? There's, like, no line and they've been in there 10 minutes."
If Eliot has registered any of the noise emanating from the hacker's mouth, he showed no sign. The hitter was busy scanning their surroundings for the slightest threat.
Sure, they'd made good time but not enough for his taste.
There was still a long way to go before he'd allow himself to take a breath and think about anything other than their immediate needs. He couldn't afford to rage against Sterling. He couldn't afford to be angry at Nate for making them leave him behind when he was hurt.
Eliot was pretty sure that none of the others had noticed that Nate had taken a bullet. Dam it! He knew he shouldn't have left Nate. But he'd got in the damn chopper because Nate told him to do it. Nate has the Plan. Nate is the keeper of The Big Picture. Nate sacrificed himself so they could get away. He did Eliot's job for him. If the bullet didn't get him, Eliot would. Dam it!
Eliot closed his eyes for a second to calm himself. There'd be time to kick Nate's sorry Irish ass later.
First, he had to take care of his team. Or Nate would kick his ass.
Okay, okay. Nate would TRY to kick his ass. After a bottle of whiskey. . . or two.
"Well it's about time!" Hardison immediately slid over the hood of the car Dukes of Hazard-style. "Shotgun!"
Sophie walked down the grassy hill from the dingy restrooms, the picture of lady-like grace, her new favorite pair of Jimmy Choo's creating divots in the ground. Admidantly, not foot wear designed for the sun-burnt grass and pock-marked concrete of a Highway rest stop, but still fabulous none the less.
She stopped at Hardison's cry of shotgun and looked around in alarm for a moment, thinking the FBI, or worse Sterling, had caught up with them.
By the time she recovered, chiefly because Eliot had simply dropped his head and shook it as he got in the car and Parker got into the car by vaulting herself through a rolled down window and into the back seat; did she get in herself.
Eliot pulled out of the rest stop and onto the interstate.
"Sophie, where we headin'? North's gonna need to get specific soon or we're gonna end up in Canada."
Sophie took out her cell phone and entered an address which caused a pin point to pop up on the GPS unit's map.
Hardison grinned. "Look at you with your paired device! If I didn't know better I'd think you'd been paying attention to my end of the jobs."
Sophie rolled her eyes at the enthusiastically geeky hacker.
"Yes, er, the nice boy at the rental place was happy to help a tourist."
Hardison tapped the pin on the screen.
A stilted male computer voice helpfully began to read out driving directions.
"Merge right onto Colonial Parkway from I95 north, 5 miles," the digital voice intoned.
"Why, thank you, Stephen."
Parker leaned into the front seat, her chin hovering over Hardison's shoulder.
"Hardison, how do you know its name?" she whispered.
Hardison flinched a little discovering Parker so close to his face. For a moment he flashed back to the two David's fiasco, remembering the warmth of Parkers lips. That little make out secession had only been an excuse to get down to the restoration room. But Hardison wished . . .
"Did it tell you? Ooo! Can you talk to computers now without a keyboard like in Tron?"
Hardison focused back to the Parker of the moment. He didn't know where to start. His heart did, skipping a geeky little beat at the fact she'd seen Tron.
"Uh, naw, naw, Parker. It was a joke. You know, cuz the GPS voice sounds like Stephen Hawking."
Parker just stared at Hardison.
"Steven who?"
"Famous physicist. Crippled by a disease so he can't talk. Uses a computer program that simulates human speech."
"Like a cyborg. Cool!"
Hardison ran his hand over his face. So beautiful and yet so wrong.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Eliot slapped his open hand on the dash causing Parker to backpedal to the back seat like a frightened cat.
"Sit down. We don't need to be gettin' pulled over 'cause some cop sees you bouncin' around the car!"
Sophie, startled by the way Eliot snapped at Parker and less by his sudden abuse of the dashboard, was at a loss for words. In all their time together she had never seen Eliot raise his voice to Parker in that fashion.
Sure, he'd shout, make a lot of growl-ly noises, but there had never be a hint of real violence behind it. To be honest, she'd always thought the dynamic between the younger members of the team had become more like squabbling siblings. It was kind of adorable sometimes.
Eliot blew a few strands of loose hair out of his face. The longer they were on the road the higher the chances were of being noticed, pulled over, or tracked down by any number of LEO's in the region. Photos of the team had undoubtedly been sent in an APB before they had even landed at the airport.
Eliot gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "So where are we goin' exactly, Sophie?"
"A little cabin I have in the country. We should be safe long enough to gather our wits and get what we need get our act together before..."
Eliot glanced side ways at the grifter.
"You have a cabin?"
Sophie looked at him and shrugged. When she had bought the place about a year ago, she had someone very specific in mind. It was supposed to be a birthday gift, but things fell apart so quickly, it had never been given to... that someone.
Sighing heavily, she acknowledged, "It was the first place I thought of when Tara called me. I think it will be a good place to hide as long as we keep a low profile. The neighbors are close, but not too close and there's tree cover."
Eliot nodded in approval. Now they just had to get there.
----- -
Waking up in the hospital hadn't been fun. First off, Nate was disappointed and then embarrassed when he mistook the dark-haired nurse tending to his I.V. lines for Sophie. Then there was the ever so pleasant realization that he was lashed to the bed with padded medical restraints. Of course he would have been monumentally pissed if the team had come after him, but kind of touched and gratified too. You know, just because he was a thief doesn't mean he couldn't be honest. Honest with himself, anyway. At least that part of his life had crystallized somewhat in the past few weeks.
Now Nathan Ford was putting his 30 days of laying on his ass in a hospital behind him sitting on his ass in a Spartan interrogation room in the Boston FBI offices, handcuffed to the single most uncomfortable chair he has ever been handcuffed to in his life.
It was long past time for him to take the remainder of his pain meds. his incision site, still pink around his brand new scar was aching in a supremely annoying fashion. It had been a week since he had been discharged from Boston General and remanded into federal custody. This was his second trip to this very room with Agent Nivens and her colleagues. He was certain that they were biding their time for Sterling to return from where ever it was he'd slithered off. Nate found it odd that they had come up with excuse after excuse to keep him more or less in FBI custody. Sure, they said that they were putting him under protection as a cooperating witness. But the cuff on his left wrist keeping him in this god forsaken chair made his civil rights feel awfully violated. After all, they hadn't charged him with anything though they certainly were treating him like they had. He couldn't even sneeze without an agent offering him a tissue.
Or go to the restroom with out a badge-wielding buddy. Or go to bed at night without having a federally sanctioned bedtime story read to him.
Nate shifted forward to get some circulation back to his lower extremities. Even his toes were falling asleep.
For the next, oh, Nate figured it had been about twenty minutes; he drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
They could have at least given him a cross word to work while he waited.
On the other side of the two-way glass, Agent Nivens was staring intently at Nathan Ford. If everything that Sterling had told her was true, this guy wasn't going to simply hand over a straight forward confession all wrapped up in a little bow with his testimony against Kajic. He knew the system. More importantly, he knew how to work the system because he had been apart of the system for twenty years of his life.
At this point, she was almost willing to let him walk in exchange for the information on Kajic. She hated it, but in the big picture, Kajic was the bigger bad in this situation. It was only a matter of time before Ford and his crew were caught. They might specialize in scamming bad guys, but that was still breaking the law. A look at his crew's wrap sheets told her that these weren't exactly the most altruistic people on the planet.
Hell, Eliot Spencer was suspected of enough violent crimes to put him away for several life terms.
That was the problem. Except for a few incidents involving Sophie Deavreaux, Ford's crew were linked to the crimes on their wrap sheets by largely circumstantial evidence and hearsay from the less than upstanding citizens that employed them. Of course, that's only when anything could be linked to them at all. Each one of them had been implicated in multiple crimes but never caught. Not even by their so called mastermind sitting on the other side of the glass. There was a time when Ford would have been on this side of the glass with her getting a confession out of some thief or scam artist. Now, Nathan Ford was a thief and a scam artist.
What had happened to this guy that made him go so completely off the reservation?
Who was this guy, really?
----- -
Eliot Spencer was in a dangerous line of work to say the least. He always thought that if he survived it, he'd come to a point in his life where he'd be finished with the violence and live the rest of whatever he had left quietly retired in the country. Maybe in a cozy house on a little patch of land with enough room to support a couple of horses. That's what he thought on the rare occasions he was in a hopeful mood.
This little house in the middle of nowhere Vermont was kind of great. Sophie hadn't done a half bad job picking it out. Far enough away from the world for peace and quiet, but not so totally removed that he couldn't hang at a bar if he really wanted. Not to mention it was easily defended and set a full acre back from the road.
Too bad he was being hunted by every LEO within 1,000 miles.
Worse, he'd been cooped up in the little cabin with a bunch of city-poisoned thieves gone stir crazy. On the plus side, it had taken them over thirty days to get to this point. If he'd laid down money on the odds it would have taken his team this long for the stress to get to them, he'd have been out some cash. Still . . .
He could hear Hardison and Sophie arguing in the main room all the way back in the kitchen. Not a considerable distance away, mind you. They weren't exactly keeping their voice down, though.
Of the barely edible canned goods in the pantry Eliot hand scrounged enough together to make a casserole. It's not quite dinnertime, and technically he'd cleared out all the good , fresh remainders of the pantry cooking the other two meals and three snacks earlier in the day. It was harder for Eliot to go to his happy Iron Chef place now than it had been after any other job they'd ever pulled.
It'd been over a week since they'd settled into the little cabin. Hardison kept busy doing what he could to set up his Hacker den. Parker mostly climbed trees only coming down to make an initial trip into town for basic supplies. Eliot was pretty sure she'd even slept in the bough of an old oak out back a couple nights when they first arrived at the cabin.
Sophie, as she was doing right now, was keeping busy by constantly pestering Hardison for updates on Nate. Hardison was still rattled from what went down in Bellbridge, Eliot knew he'd been going out of his way to keep his digital presence to a minimum. After all, the FBI and various other governmental alphabet organizations employed hackers just as talented as Hardison. Alec had been spooked and was even more paranoid that usual.
They had been able to get confirmation that Nate was on ice in federal custody. But no much more than that. The initial tension that had hung heavily over the group had eased a little. They knew where he was, still in Boston, and now they could start figuring out how to get him back.
Fortunately, the others still didn't know that Nate had been hurt. To Eliot, that meant that he could keep everyone from fraying too much more at the edges. They could take their time and not let their concern for Nate and his well being over ride the common sense that would otherwise keep them from rushing into things before they were really, truly ready.
The only thing that truly bothered Eliot as he slid his casserole on to stovetop to cool was the one wild card in this situation that couldn't be accounted for.
Sterling.
He was out there. No doubt he'd tracked the chopper and found the rental car.
Eliot could almost feel him out there somewhere just biding his time.
Well, Sterling could plan and scheme all he wanted.
When Eliot finally caught up with him, the smug bastard was gonna have a nasty surprise.
Sterling was gonna have a real nasty surprise.
- end part one -