The Season Six Job, Ch.16
Title: The Season Six Job
Characters: Nate Ford, Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Parker, Sophie Deveraux, Patrick Bonnano, OC
Fandom: Leverage
Spoilers: None - takes place before Season 4 finale, they're still in Boston
Warnings: None for now. No network presidents were harmed during the writing of this fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own blah blah blah
Author's note: A sequel to 'The Occam's Razor Job', following cca one week after. (Parttwo in The Texas Mountain Laurel Series). After all this shit TNT put us
through, there was only one way to deal with it - see what The Team
would do when faced with TV Network. No need to read TORJ first, all you
need to know will be explained.
Special, special, special, special thanks to trappercreekd for Betaing :D
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“You know, our team is well prepared for situations like this one, and we have nothing to worry about.”
Eliot looked at Hardison when he said that in a completely convinced tone. He had spent the last fifteen minutes gathering every little bit of strength he had left, while at the same time placing them on the Boston map - he knew where they were and what part they were heading to. Hardison was surprisingly silent all that time, and then this after almost ten minutes of silence.
The hacker spent those minutes thoroughly searching the cargo space, but the bare metal walls were of no use, and not even a needle could be found on the floor. Hardison managed to find a few wires, probably to the back lights, and he tore them out, explaining that the police might stop the van with broken taillights, but it was a slim chance and they both knew it.
“Nate will think of something, we have a grifter and a thief, hell, we even have a TV writer now who will add drama and explosions,” Hardison went on.
Hardison was actually trying to lift his spirits, for god’s sake. He stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed. “It’s good we have a hacker that will locate us and tell them where we are, and a hitter who we’ll send to get us out.”
“That was my next sentence,” Hardison grinned. He took off his jacket and put it over his shoulders, dangerously close to tucking him. Eliot glared at him.
“Yeah, I know. Manly, tough, no jacket needed, wet shirts are macho - but to them you’re sick, and they would notice I didn’t give you my jacket. Stop complaining about everything.”
“I haven’t said a wo-”
“Good. Now rest, get in touch with your inner feng shui and relax while you can, okay?”
“My inner what?! You have no idea what you just said, right? Feng shui is Chinese-”
“Here we go again,” Hardison rolled his eyes. “Glaring spends energy. Talking spends energy. I said you should rest.”
Eliot shut his mouth. Hardison was right. He sighed, closed his eyes and tried to forget he just thought that Hardison was right about something.
“Eliot?” Hardison asked after ten seconds. “You okay?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t say anything.”
He sighed again, opened his eyes and met Hardison’s worried gaze.
“You just said I should…” Jesus, this was using up his energy. Yet, it seemed that Hardison needed a distraction, anything except the steady sound of the engine roaring. “We just drove over a six lane highway,” he said. “Based on the time - only twenty minutes - regular speed and the type of the road we’re driving on, we are on the Concord Turnpike, and we just passed over Massachusetts Route 128.”
Hardison’s fingers twitched. He had no laptop, no phone, nothing he could type on and find out more, and Eliot could feel his frustration.
“So, we should start to worry when we switch onto a smaller road into some wilderness, right? Damn all those ponds around Boston.” Hardison cursed quietly, hoisting himself up, and taking a few small steps, careful not to bang his head anywhere.
“No, we should worry now,” Eliot paused, watching him, not sure if he should mention something or not. “When we were in the apartment and you grabbed your phone… did you noticed anything?”
Hardison returned the same inquiring gaze. “To notice or not to notice…something… is hard to determine. You noticed something?”
“Define something… after you define noticing.”
They both tilted their heads, thinking about what to say. Hardison sat back, resting his back on the opposite wall, facing him.
“Is that something connected to Parker?” the hacker finally asked carefully.
“So, you did notice she took the bomb. Why didn’t you say that?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well…” Eliot sighed. “It is a little disturbing. She’s drunk.”
“I know,” Hardison entwined his fingers and stared at them for a moment. “Nate will take care of that, as soon as she calls him. He won’t let her do anything… crazy. Trust me, there’s nothing to fear - Nate will immediately see that, and he won’t let her out of his sight. Even if Nate was busy with something, you think Sophie would take her eyes off of her? No way, man. Nothing to worry about. She is not alone.”
“Right.” Eliot just smiled. Hardison smiled back.
Eliot bit his lip, trying to decide if it was better to tell Hardison that there was a dangerous possibility that Parker followed them, and no Nate was near to control her, or if it would just add to his fear, giving nothing useful in return. By the way Hardison’s glance was carefully turned away from him while he mentioned that, it was also possible that hacker suspected the same, but didn’t want to tell him, leaving him to rest in relative peace.
Bloody marvelous, he heard Sophie’s pissed off voice in his head.
They both chose different parts of the van to stare at.
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***
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Sophie’s explanation about four ways to improve her characters’ surprised reactions in an unexpected situation was both fascinating and unheard of, but Florence knew she would try it, knowing that that woman probably tried it herself in real life. They headed home and she reminded herself to write it down immediately. Nate planned to stop somewhere along the way and buy something to eat. They both were wet and the heavy rain canceled all their eventual plans for dinner.
“Of course, your guys can’t play with their hair and that’s a shame; there’s so many ways to read their messages. An angry stroke with one hand through the hair is just a ruse, forget it. That’s a clear sign of sudden vulnerability which they have to compensate for and hide- ouch!” Sophie yelped when she bumped her elbow on the door, and Florence quickly caught her seat; Nate swerved on the slippery road, Lucille was dangerously off balance for a moment. “Nate, what-”
“Slow down. Now repeat that.” Nate’s voice was deep and tense, and Florence thought he was talking to Sophie, to repeat that about revealing vulnerability, and for a moment she was very concerned about his mental state. He continued to drive for the next few seconds, and when she saw Sophie fishing for her earbud in her pocket, she realized Nate was listening to someone with his.
In the next second he simply turned the wheel and made a U turn in the middle of the wet road, among other cars, for Christ’s sake, and the screeching sound of the cars avoiding Lucille almost made her deaf. She quickly found her earbud.
“… d-don’t know where they’re taking them but they are definitely going out of town somewhere and we’re now going west, n-north west - just take that course and I’ll tell you when I’m sure where I am. I, I… I have to stop talking now, I can’t talk and drive, the road is strange… I don’t have my phone, and I think they don’t have theirs, they don’t have earbuds, they were talking when they came, and I didn’t know if they were going to k-kill them and-”
“Parker, slow down. Stop talking, just breathe. Slow down.”
“I can’t slow down, I’m following them and if I let them skip away we’ll never be able to find them ‘cause we don’t have anything to track and no one who could track them even if they have something t-that-”
“Parker, stop talking.” Nate kept the calm in his voice, though Florence could see the effort he put into relaxing his tightly clenched jaw. “Concentrate on the road, and on following, and think only about that, okay?”
“Okay,” she half whispered, half cried. “I’ll take out the earbud now, I can’t listen to you-” And then the line went silent.
“Florence,” Nate said after a few seconds of silence. “I’ll stop and let you out. You have our numbers. Go somewhere-”
“I’m staying, forget it,” she said simply. “What’s going on?”
“They took Hardison and Eliot. Five armed men in a dark blue van. Parker managed to escape unseen, she jumped onto the street. She’s hurt. And she is drunk.”
Static in their earbuds was followed by Parker's voice. “Concord Turnpike, Nate. They’re speeding up now.”
“Good, Parker. Just easy, okay? You know what to do. We’re on our way, and very soon we’ll be right behind you. Report any change.”
“Okay.”
Nobody said a word, and Florence glanced at Sophie. Her silence was strange. She just shook her head and motioned to Nate, and Florence got it; Parker didn’t need calming and soothing, she needed authority and decisions.
Then it finally dawned on her; they were taken because of her, because Eliot helped her and they knew it, and he and whoever was in the apartment with him, was their only way to find what they wanted. She stared ahead sightlessly, while guilt and fear started to race each other.
She turned a little just to frown at Sophie at the same moment Sophie opened her mouth. She closed it with a pale trace of a smile, and Florence nodded. No soothing words could ease her guilt. She, just like Parker, needed authority and decisions.
But Nate just kept driving and she didn’t dare to ask him anything, because she saw his eyes and something very dark and deadly curled deep inside them, ready to be awakened.
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***
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After next the twenty or so minutes, Eliot couldn’t be completely sure about the time, they passed under Interstate 495, and now he knew they weren’t just trying to locate some deserted road in the middle of the woods. If they wanted that, they had plenty of good spots on the route they passed. They knew exactly where they were going, and he had yet to decide if he liked it or not.
A simple, randomly chosen meadow in the woods had many advantages for someone who had five guns and lots of experience, but that was unknown territory for both parties. An exact place, probably a closed complex of some sort, gave much more chances, but that was their playground, a place they would probably know very well.
Whatever, he hoped they would get there soon. Hardison’s jacket kept in at least a little warmth, but the damp shirt was draining his body heat pretty fast, and he didn’t exactly need that on top of all the shit. Every minute of rest was weakening him further, and the fear and solid worrying helped with that.
He didn’t have to explain to Hardison that this trip would end with two bullets in their heads no matter when and what they said. Though Hardison had no experience with this sort of thing, he knew enough to predict pretty much all their moves. He also had enough control to keep calm in a situation where many much tougher guys would be panicking, babbling idiots. Damn, there was no way he would let them kill him, he thought, watching the younger man who was quietly humming; he couldn’t predict what Hardison might become when he hit his full potential, but he was damn sure it would be something great.
He spent some time weighing all the pros and cons of Hardison’s eventual role in the next hours. He had kept them alive until now, and Eliot would trust him to continue doing that without thinking, if only their opponents were a little less professional. That main guy particularly. Whatever Hardison tried, grifted or lied, no matter how good and convincing it was, that guy would do the only thing that suited him. Hardison knew a lot, but he had no experience with streetwise thugs.
And that was the problem.
“Hey, Ice Man,” he called to him when he noticed the road changed, and when the sound of traffic was almost lost in the sound of falling rain. They went off the main road, and he knew they didn't have more than a few minutes before they arrived. “I have something to tell you.”
Hardison slowly raised his head, eyeing him critically. “I won’t like it?”
“Nope.”
“Would you?”
“Not exactly…no.”
“That’s bad. If you said you’d like it, it would probably be something crazy, violent, and successful.” Hardison sighed but at the last moment remembered he should smile. For him. That smile hit him stronger than he thought it could.
Fuck feelings, he had a job to do. “They won’t use handcuffs, and that’s a good thing,” Eliot managed to steady his voice in a neutral matter-of-fact stream. “They are too experienced to use ropes, and that leaves only duct tape, or zip ties. Zip ties would be their first choice, because duct tape can be torn apart on good surface and with a little time.”
“That’s cool. You’re saying they’ll use something we can’t-”
“We can. If your arms are in front, with enough strength you’ll be able to snap them. If they’re behind your back, it’s even easier - lean forward, lift your hands up as much as you can and thrust them down on your back, or legs if you’re kneeling. They’ll break.”
“That doesn’t sound like something you’re able to do now,” Hardison said carefully, as if he worried he would get offended.
Eliot sighed. “Nope, I can’t.” He thought about mentioning he didn’t have enough strength to lift a fucking window, but it was better if Hardison didn’t know how, exactly, weak he was. “That’s why I’m teaching you, so you can untie me, alright?”
“Yeah, sure, put more pressure on me, go on,” he grinned. “I knew I should have left you in the apartment and taken Parker instead.”
“Speaking of Parker…” Eliot hesitated, still uncertain how much of his suspicions Hardison should know. “There is…no, there was a slight possibility of her not going to Nate.”
“…but coming after us,” Hardison finished quietly. “Yes, I know. And that means we have to get out of here before she even gets close.”
“That’s the plan.” Eliot darted him a genuine smile, and Hardison, naturally, narrowed his eyes. He should growl and grumble instead… but now it was too late to change tactics.
“Okay, I see,” Hardison sighed heavily, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “You’re all soft and smiling. What is it you’re not telling me?”
“I was just getting to that part. That guy-”
“Goon A.”
“What?”
“I named him Goon A. The one that hit me is Goon B, the careful one that’s always too far away is Goon C…”
“Dammit Hardison, just listen!”
Eliot half expected bitching, a burst of explanations or nervous joking, but Hardison just nodded, with a tired half smile. Damn kid - his heart ached seeing him so calm and aware of every aspect of this shit - he didn’t deserve this quick course of instantly growing up and facing the nasty things in reality. He waited a moment until he was completely sure that his voice was controlled and confident. “That guy, Goon A, wants the USB and where to find Florence. There’s no grift you can try that will stop him, he ain’t gonna have time for that. If anything unexpected happens and they separate us, don’t try to play hero. Sooner or later you’ll tell them. It’s better to tell them sooner, trust me.”
“Stalling is on our side, it gives Nate time to get us out.”
“In this particular case, stalling will be my job, not yours, if it comes to that.”
“Look, Eliot, I’m not stupid,” Hardison said seriously. “I know what they can do to make us talk, and I prepared myself for that. I can endure that long enough. I also know that I cannot tell them everything, or nothing at all, but dose it carefully, to prolong everything and make them keep me alive as long as I’m useful.”
This time, Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly. Hardison based his composure on heroic movies, for god’s sake. He had no idea what really… He took one long breath, only then remembering the mask. Clear oxygen helped a little, but nothing could remove the pressure in his chest, that fucking pain that grew stronger with his every word.
“The USB is not important, Florence is not important, the only important thing here is you.”
“You mean us,” Hardison hissed. “And what about Flor-”
“One shit at the time. Florence is just stage two - if we have to tell them where she is, we still have to get out of this alive, and then think about the new turns in this shit. She won’t be in greater danger if you tell them everything you know about her, Nate would just adjust his actions according to that.”
The road was now full of potholes, the van was slowing at the curves. He didn’t have much time.
He left the mask on the floor, striping one band aid from his right hand and pushing it into a small hole in the carpet. Hardison watched that without a word, knowing why he was leaving his DNA in the van. Eliot slowly hoisted himself up and moved closer to him, kneeling right in front of him.
“If this isn’t a sign of more bad news, I’m an-”
“There’s two of us,” Eliot said shortly.
“What do you mean?”
“You can be brave for a while, and refuse to tell them anything, or dose your information carefully, especially when you know that Nate will find us, one way or another. But, what would you do if Goon A said he would kill me if you don’t talk?”
“Oh. Why you?”
“If you have two back doors into a computer, would you choose the one easier to hack, or the one that would occupy you longer? Because you’ll be easier to break.”
Hardison shifted under his gaze. “You mean, they’ll go after me first?”
“Yep, if they knew their job. And they know.”
“Would that work on you?” the hacker asked casually.
Eliot almost smiled. “Yeah. If they threatened you, I would tell them everything, and then they would kill us both. And there’s that other problem…”
“What?”
“My reputation would be ruined forever.”
Hardison huffed. “We can’t let that happen, can we?”
The van started to slowly slow down, and he could hear sand under the wheels.
“Do you trust me to get you out of this alive?” Eliot asked, still keeping his eyes locked on his.
“Us, damn you! To get us out of this alive, that’s the only option. Yeah, I do. What do I have to do?”
“You must feign severe concussion and disorientation - try to vomit and pretend to pass out again every time they wake you up. Pass out after every move or hit. Be careful, they’ll check with a hit or stab, be prepared and don’t react. When you wake up the first time, try to pretend you’re still knocked out, and listen and remember everything. I need you to use the first chance you see, and clear out - if you’re out of the equation, I have free hands and enough room to fight.”
“Five guys with guns? Are you fucking nuts?”
“If you’re there, it’s six against me - ‘cause you’ll be used for it. Trust me. I’ll stall as much as I can, and wait for Nate, but you have to do what I’ve told you to do.”
“Hey, I’m not so easy to knock out, I can hold on much longer than you think. But, you’re the one that can’t stall. Have you thought of that, indestructible one? Have you thought, even for one second, that you can’t endure hits or stabs or lasers or shit, huh?”
Damn, he felt a lump in his throat, and his voice became a weak whisper. “Not really,” he said. “I know you can hold on, Hardison,” he continued almost gently, putting his arm on his shoulder. “And I also know you would try the impossible to get us out. The problem is, a lot of damage can be done to the human body even in one minute. The things you can’t see in the movies. I know them, I’ve seen them, I... And I can’t let them even start... I can’t let them even get close to you.”
Hardison cleared his throat, much paler than before, but he didn’t take his eyes away. “What are you trying to do now? Scare me more? Don’t have to, trust me, I’m-”
He squeezed his shoulder harder. “No. I’m trying to…” he trailed off, having no idea what to tell him, how to explain to him. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry,” he finished, his voice going into raspy whisper.
He smiled once more, then he turned him around and slammed his head into the wall of the van, easing his fall.
He would never hear the end of it.
The van stopped.
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Characters: Nate Ford, Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Parker, Sophie Deveraux, Patrick Bonnano, OC
Fandom: Leverage
Spoilers: None - takes place before Season 4 finale, they're still in Boston
Warnings: None for now. No network presidents were harmed during the writing of this fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own blah blah blah
Author's note: A sequel to 'The Occam's Razor Job', following cca one week after. (Parttwo in The Texas Mountain Laurel Series). After all this shit TNT put us
through, there was only one way to deal with it - see what The Team
would do when faced with TV Network. No need to read TORJ first, all you
need to know will be explained.
Special, special, special, special thanks to trappercreekd for Betaing :D
.
.
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“You know, our team is well prepared for situations like this one, and we have nothing to worry about.”
Eliot looked at Hardison when he said that in a completely convinced tone. He had spent the last fifteen minutes gathering every little bit of strength he had left, while at the same time placing them on the Boston map - he knew where they were and what part they were heading to. Hardison was surprisingly silent all that time, and then this after almost ten minutes of silence.
The hacker spent those minutes thoroughly searching the cargo space, but the bare metal walls were of no use, and not even a needle could be found on the floor. Hardison managed to find a few wires, probably to the back lights, and he tore them out, explaining that the police might stop the van with broken taillights, but it was a slim chance and they both knew it.
“Nate will think of something, we have a grifter and a thief, hell, we even have a TV writer now who will add drama and explosions,” Hardison went on.
Hardison was actually trying to lift his spirits, for god’s sake. He stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed. “It’s good we have a hacker that will locate us and tell them where we are, and a hitter who we’ll send to get us out.”
“That was my next sentence,” Hardison grinned. He took off his jacket and put it over his shoulders, dangerously close to tucking him. Eliot glared at him.
“Yeah, I know. Manly, tough, no jacket needed, wet shirts are macho - but to them you’re sick, and they would notice I didn’t give you my jacket. Stop complaining about everything.”
“I haven’t said a wo-”
“Good. Now rest, get in touch with your inner feng shui and relax while you can, okay?”
“My inner what?! You have no idea what you just said, right? Feng shui is Chinese-”
“Here we go again,” Hardison rolled his eyes. “Glaring spends energy. Talking spends energy. I said you should rest.”
Eliot shut his mouth. Hardison was right. He sighed, closed his eyes and tried to forget he just thought that Hardison was right about something.
“Eliot?” Hardison asked after ten seconds. “You okay?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t say anything.”
He sighed again, opened his eyes and met Hardison’s worried gaze.
“You just said I should…” Jesus, this was using up his energy. Yet, it seemed that Hardison needed a distraction, anything except the steady sound of the engine roaring. “We just drove over a six lane highway,” he said. “Based on the time - only twenty minutes - regular speed and the type of the road we’re driving on, we are on the Concord Turnpike, and we just passed over Massachusetts Route 128.”
Hardison’s fingers twitched. He had no laptop, no phone, nothing he could type on and find out more, and Eliot could feel his frustration.
“So, we should start to worry when we switch onto a smaller road into some wilderness, right? Damn all those ponds around Boston.” Hardison cursed quietly, hoisting himself up, and taking a few small steps, careful not to bang his head anywhere.
“No, we should worry now,” Eliot paused, watching him, not sure if he should mention something or not. “When we were in the apartment and you grabbed your phone… did you noticed anything?”
Hardison returned the same inquiring gaze. “To notice or not to notice…something… is hard to determine. You noticed something?”
“Define something… after you define noticing.”
They both tilted their heads, thinking about what to say. Hardison sat back, resting his back on the opposite wall, facing him.
“Is that something connected to Parker?” the hacker finally asked carefully.
“So, you did notice she took the bomb. Why didn’t you say that?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well…” Eliot sighed. “It is a little disturbing. She’s drunk.”
“I know,” Hardison entwined his fingers and stared at them for a moment. “Nate will take care of that, as soon as she calls him. He won’t let her do anything… crazy. Trust me, there’s nothing to fear - Nate will immediately see that, and he won’t let her out of his sight. Even if Nate was busy with something, you think Sophie would take her eyes off of her? No way, man. Nothing to worry about. She is not alone.”
“Right.” Eliot just smiled. Hardison smiled back.
Eliot bit his lip, trying to decide if it was better to tell Hardison that there was a dangerous possibility that Parker followed them, and no Nate was near to control her, or if it would just add to his fear, giving nothing useful in return. By the way Hardison’s glance was carefully turned away from him while he mentioned that, it was also possible that hacker suspected the same, but didn’t want to tell him, leaving him to rest in relative peace.
Bloody marvelous, he heard Sophie’s pissed off voice in his head.
They both chose different parts of the van to stare at.
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***
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Sophie’s explanation about four ways to improve her characters’ surprised reactions in an unexpected situation was both fascinating and unheard of, but Florence knew she would try it, knowing that that woman probably tried it herself in real life. They headed home and she reminded herself to write it down immediately. Nate planned to stop somewhere along the way and buy something to eat. They both were wet and the heavy rain canceled all their eventual plans for dinner.
“Of course, your guys can’t play with their hair and that’s a shame; there’s so many ways to read their messages. An angry stroke with one hand through the hair is just a ruse, forget it. That’s a clear sign of sudden vulnerability which they have to compensate for and hide- ouch!” Sophie yelped when she bumped her elbow on the door, and Florence quickly caught her seat; Nate swerved on the slippery road, Lucille was dangerously off balance for a moment. “Nate, what-”
“Slow down. Now repeat that.” Nate’s voice was deep and tense, and Florence thought he was talking to Sophie, to repeat that about revealing vulnerability, and for a moment she was very concerned about his mental state. He continued to drive for the next few seconds, and when she saw Sophie fishing for her earbud in her pocket, she realized Nate was listening to someone with his.
In the next second he simply turned the wheel and made a U turn in the middle of the wet road, among other cars, for Christ’s sake, and the screeching sound of the cars avoiding Lucille almost made her deaf. She quickly found her earbud.
“… d-don’t know where they’re taking them but they are definitely going out of town somewhere and we’re now going west, n-north west - just take that course and I’ll tell you when I’m sure where I am. I, I… I have to stop talking now, I can’t talk and drive, the road is strange… I don’t have my phone, and I think they don’t have theirs, they don’t have earbuds, they were talking when they came, and I didn’t know if they were going to k-kill them and-”
“Parker, slow down. Stop talking, just breathe. Slow down.”
“I can’t slow down, I’m following them and if I let them skip away we’ll never be able to find them ‘cause we don’t have anything to track and no one who could track them even if they have something t-that-”
“Parker, stop talking.” Nate kept the calm in his voice, though Florence could see the effort he put into relaxing his tightly clenched jaw. “Concentrate on the road, and on following, and think only about that, okay?”
“Okay,” she half whispered, half cried. “I’ll take out the earbud now, I can’t listen to you-” And then the line went silent.
“Florence,” Nate said after a few seconds of silence. “I’ll stop and let you out. You have our numbers. Go somewhere-”
“I’m staying, forget it,” she said simply. “What’s going on?”
“They took Hardison and Eliot. Five armed men in a dark blue van. Parker managed to escape unseen, she jumped onto the street. She’s hurt. And she is drunk.”
Static in their earbuds was followed by Parker's voice. “Concord Turnpike, Nate. They’re speeding up now.”
“Good, Parker. Just easy, okay? You know what to do. We’re on our way, and very soon we’ll be right behind you. Report any change.”
“Okay.”
Nobody said a word, and Florence glanced at Sophie. Her silence was strange. She just shook her head and motioned to Nate, and Florence got it; Parker didn’t need calming and soothing, she needed authority and decisions.
Then it finally dawned on her; they were taken because of her, because Eliot helped her and they knew it, and he and whoever was in the apartment with him, was their only way to find what they wanted. She stared ahead sightlessly, while guilt and fear started to race each other.
She turned a little just to frown at Sophie at the same moment Sophie opened her mouth. She closed it with a pale trace of a smile, and Florence nodded. No soothing words could ease her guilt. She, just like Parker, needed authority and decisions.
But Nate just kept driving and she didn’t dare to ask him anything, because she saw his eyes and something very dark and deadly curled deep inside them, ready to be awakened.
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***
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After next the twenty or so minutes, Eliot couldn’t be completely sure about the time, they passed under Interstate 495, and now he knew they weren’t just trying to locate some deserted road in the middle of the woods. If they wanted that, they had plenty of good spots on the route they passed. They knew exactly where they were going, and he had yet to decide if he liked it or not.
A simple, randomly chosen meadow in the woods had many advantages for someone who had five guns and lots of experience, but that was unknown territory for both parties. An exact place, probably a closed complex of some sort, gave much more chances, but that was their playground, a place they would probably know very well.
Whatever, he hoped they would get there soon. Hardison’s jacket kept in at least a little warmth, but the damp shirt was draining his body heat pretty fast, and he didn’t exactly need that on top of all the shit. Every minute of rest was weakening him further, and the fear and solid worrying helped with that.
He didn’t have to explain to Hardison that this trip would end with two bullets in their heads no matter when and what they said. Though Hardison had no experience with this sort of thing, he knew enough to predict pretty much all their moves. He also had enough control to keep calm in a situation where many much tougher guys would be panicking, babbling idiots. Damn, there was no way he would let them kill him, he thought, watching the younger man who was quietly humming; he couldn’t predict what Hardison might become when he hit his full potential, but he was damn sure it would be something great.
He spent some time weighing all the pros and cons of Hardison’s eventual role in the next hours. He had kept them alive until now, and Eliot would trust him to continue doing that without thinking, if only their opponents were a little less professional. That main guy particularly. Whatever Hardison tried, grifted or lied, no matter how good and convincing it was, that guy would do the only thing that suited him. Hardison knew a lot, but he had no experience with streetwise thugs.
And that was the problem.
“Hey, Ice Man,” he called to him when he noticed the road changed, and when the sound of traffic was almost lost in the sound of falling rain. They went off the main road, and he knew they didn't have more than a few minutes before they arrived. “I have something to tell you.”
Hardison slowly raised his head, eyeing him critically. “I won’t like it?”
“Nope.”
“Would you?”
“Not exactly…no.”
“That’s bad. If you said you’d like it, it would probably be something crazy, violent, and successful.” Hardison sighed but at the last moment remembered he should smile. For him. That smile hit him stronger than he thought it could.
Fuck feelings, he had a job to do. “They won’t use handcuffs, and that’s a good thing,” Eliot managed to steady his voice in a neutral matter-of-fact stream. “They are too experienced to use ropes, and that leaves only duct tape, or zip ties. Zip ties would be their first choice, because duct tape can be torn apart on good surface and with a little time.”
“That’s cool. You’re saying they’ll use something we can’t-”
“We can. If your arms are in front, with enough strength you’ll be able to snap them. If they’re behind your back, it’s even easier - lean forward, lift your hands up as much as you can and thrust them down on your back, or legs if you’re kneeling. They’ll break.”
“That doesn’t sound like something you’re able to do now,” Hardison said carefully, as if he worried he would get offended.
Eliot sighed. “Nope, I can’t.” He thought about mentioning he didn’t have enough strength to lift a fucking window, but it was better if Hardison didn’t know how, exactly, weak he was. “That’s why I’m teaching you, so you can untie me, alright?”
“Yeah, sure, put more pressure on me, go on,” he grinned. “I knew I should have left you in the apartment and taken Parker instead.”
“Speaking of Parker…” Eliot hesitated, still uncertain how much of his suspicions Hardison should know. “There is…no, there was a slight possibility of her not going to Nate.”
“…but coming after us,” Hardison finished quietly. “Yes, I know. And that means we have to get out of here before she even gets close.”
“That’s the plan.” Eliot darted him a genuine smile, and Hardison, naturally, narrowed his eyes. He should growl and grumble instead… but now it was too late to change tactics.
“Okay, I see,” Hardison sighed heavily, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “You’re all soft and smiling. What is it you’re not telling me?”
“I was just getting to that part. That guy-”
“Goon A.”
“What?”
“I named him Goon A. The one that hit me is Goon B, the careful one that’s always too far away is Goon C…”
“Dammit Hardison, just listen!”
Eliot half expected bitching, a burst of explanations or nervous joking, but Hardison just nodded, with a tired half smile. Damn kid - his heart ached seeing him so calm and aware of every aspect of this shit - he didn’t deserve this quick course of instantly growing up and facing the nasty things in reality. He waited a moment until he was completely sure that his voice was controlled and confident. “That guy, Goon A, wants the USB and where to find Florence. There’s no grift you can try that will stop him, he ain’t gonna have time for that. If anything unexpected happens and they separate us, don’t try to play hero. Sooner or later you’ll tell them. It’s better to tell them sooner, trust me.”
“Stalling is on our side, it gives Nate time to get us out.”
“In this particular case, stalling will be my job, not yours, if it comes to that.”
“Look, Eliot, I’m not stupid,” Hardison said seriously. “I know what they can do to make us talk, and I prepared myself for that. I can endure that long enough. I also know that I cannot tell them everything, or nothing at all, but dose it carefully, to prolong everything and make them keep me alive as long as I’m useful.”
This time, Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly. Hardison based his composure on heroic movies, for god’s sake. He had no idea what really… He took one long breath, only then remembering the mask. Clear oxygen helped a little, but nothing could remove the pressure in his chest, that fucking pain that grew stronger with his every word.
“The USB is not important, Florence is not important, the only important thing here is you.”
“You mean us,” Hardison hissed. “And what about Flor-”
“One shit at the time. Florence is just stage two - if we have to tell them where she is, we still have to get out of this alive, and then think about the new turns in this shit. She won’t be in greater danger if you tell them everything you know about her, Nate would just adjust his actions according to that.”
The road was now full of potholes, the van was slowing at the curves. He didn’t have much time.
He left the mask on the floor, striping one band aid from his right hand and pushing it into a small hole in the carpet. Hardison watched that without a word, knowing why he was leaving his DNA in the van. Eliot slowly hoisted himself up and moved closer to him, kneeling right in front of him.
“If this isn’t a sign of more bad news, I’m an-”
“There’s two of us,” Eliot said shortly.
“What do you mean?”
“You can be brave for a while, and refuse to tell them anything, or dose your information carefully, especially when you know that Nate will find us, one way or another. But, what would you do if Goon A said he would kill me if you don’t talk?”
“Oh. Why you?”
“If you have two back doors into a computer, would you choose the one easier to hack, or the one that would occupy you longer? Because you’ll be easier to break.”
Hardison shifted under his gaze. “You mean, they’ll go after me first?”
“Yep, if they knew their job. And they know.”
“Would that work on you?” the hacker asked casually.
Eliot almost smiled. “Yeah. If they threatened you, I would tell them everything, and then they would kill us both. And there’s that other problem…”
“What?”
“My reputation would be ruined forever.”
Hardison huffed. “We can’t let that happen, can we?”
The van started to slowly slow down, and he could hear sand under the wheels.
“Do you trust me to get you out of this alive?” Eliot asked, still keeping his eyes locked on his.
“Us, damn you! To get us out of this alive, that’s the only option. Yeah, I do. What do I have to do?”
“You must feign severe concussion and disorientation - try to vomit and pretend to pass out again every time they wake you up. Pass out after every move or hit. Be careful, they’ll check with a hit or stab, be prepared and don’t react. When you wake up the first time, try to pretend you’re still knocked out, and listen and remember everything. I need you to use the first chance you see, and clear out - if you’re out of the equation, I have free hands and enough room to fight.”
“Five guys with guns? Are you fucking nuts?”
“If you’re there, it’s six against me - ‘cause you’ll be used for it. Trust me. I’ll stall as much as I can, and wait for Nate, but you have to do what I’ve told you to do.”
“Hey, I’m not so easy to knock out, I can hold on much longer than you think. But, you’re the one that can’t stall. Have you thought of that, indestructible one? Have you thought, even for one second, that you can’t endure hits or stabs or lasers or shit, huh?”
Damn, he felt a lump in his throat, and his voice became a weak whisper. “Not really,” he said. “I know you can hold on, Hardison,” he continued almost gently, putting his arm on his shoulder. “And I also know you would try the impossible to get us out. The problem is, a lot of damage can be done to the human body even in one minute. The things you can’t see in the movies. I know them, I’ve seen them, I... And I can’t let them even start... I can’t let them even get close to you.”
Hardison cleared his throat, much paler than before, but he didn’t take his eyes away. “What are you trying to do now? Scare me more? Don’t have to, trust me, I’m-”
He squeezed his shoulder harder. “No. I’m trying to…” he trailed off, having no idea what to tell him, how to explain to him. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry,” he finished, his voice going into raspy whisper.
He smiled once more, then he turned him around and slammed his head into the wall of the van, easing his fall.
He would never hear the end of it.
The van stopped.
.
.