The Season Six Job, Chapter 28
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
Chapter 28
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The first things Eliot checked when he regained consciousness, without opening his eyes, were the sounds. Chirping, the soft rustle of leaves when a breeze moved through the trees, and the very, very distant sound of traffic, coming from behind him, where he left the main road.
The scent of warm soil had a trace of vanilla in it.
He opened his eyes and slowly straightened up, feeling like everything around him still moved a little. Then he looked at the pair of legs in sneakers that were swinging in front of him, and realized that the Challenger was rocking a bit.
His movement was like a motion detector going off, she felt it, and Parker turned upside down, now her head was hanging in front of him. The dizziness ran wild and he squinted.
“If you keeping making these cereal muffins, Betsy won’t have to know about this little trip of yours,” she said with her mouth full. Okay, one good thing, they remembered to turn the oven off.
He slowly turned his head to the left, to Lucille parked only few a meters away - he didn’t hear it coming - and four of them lined up, and watching him. The side doors were open, Sophie and Florence were sitting on the floor. Another good thing - they didn’t leave Florence alone in the apartment.
“When…?” he started, his voice strangely uneven.
“A minute ago,” Parker cheerfully said. “We checked if you were alive, and decided to let you come together on your own.”
A wise move. But she knew how to speed it up, sending vibrations to his subconsciousness; her leg swinging wasn’t accidental.
“How?” He left his phone at the apartment, they couldn’t track him.
“I never - okay, rarely - make the same mistake twice,” Hardison said, pointing behind his back. In the dark inside of Lucille he saw his monitor, all dark except of the one giant green dot. He squinted and sharpened his vision, focusing, and the blurry giant dot became many, many little green dots in one cluster. That wasn’t one fucking tracking device in his car. There was more than ten of them. He imagined all the time he would spend searching for them and cleaning it, and moaned, thrusting his head back on the wheel.
“Why?” he muttered.
“Are you trying to write an article, Eliot?” Nate asked dryly. “You need the who and where to complete your inquiry. What, we shall keep for ourselves, this time.”
He turned his head on the wheel and looked at him through the hair that fell over his eyes. And said nothing.
“So, what is the result of this?” Nate asked.
If nothing else, Nate had that irritating ability to sum all shit up. He continued to look at him, trying to choose his words. “You can’t guarantee that the center of the gravity would suck it all down, and you know that.”
“There’s no guarantee in anything we do. You know that.”
“This time is different. This time we can all die,” he said. Nate just raised his eyebrows, so he collected all his thoughts and continued, “Where are you with your Plans? Which letter are you on, now?”
Nate smiled. “All of them.”
Well, that shouldn’t calm his fears, but it did. It wasn’t like he had any choice now, anyway. Leaving them for real was never an option, it was only a matter of deciding who, exactly, would stay with them.
Then, continuing with that staying, he remembered the third thing that wasn’t so good - George was left with Orion, alone, for the second time in one day. He should’ve brought him with him, but his leaving the apartment with a plant tucked under his arm would be maybe, just maybe, a little weird. He shook that off and took a deep breath.
“I need to know something,” Florence said suddenly before he could say anything. He looked at her, just then noticing she had something on her head. No time to dry her hair, he realized, so she wrapped it up with something dark. “Nate, what, why, how-” she stopped under Nate’s smile, and took another turn. “What’s going on? What plans, what letters, how many jobs? And why? Why Don Lazzara, what does he have to do with everything, except his nephew-”
“If we try to take down only Knudsen, we would end up with all of Dvorak Security, the Frac mine mobsters, and Don Lazzara’s men after us. Everything here is connected, Knudsen, Don Lazzara, the mine… we can’t touch one without stirring the others. Eliot is right - we can’t do four jobs at the same time - we can pull this off only if we find the center of gravity between everything that I counted. Find a way to destroy it so that it will pull all the others after it, when it, or he, falls.”
She stared at him without reply and he couldn’t blame her. Nate sounded like a lunatic to an untrained ear. Sometimes, even to those who were trained, he added to himself.
Instead of answering that, she sighed, reached somewhere behind her in the dark, and returned to the light with a muffin. What, they prepared for a fucking picnic? Though, this was more like a safari - the next thing he should expect was them trying to feed the wild life they chased, cornered and caught. He slowly pushed himself from the wheel, trying to decide what to do now.
Nate was still watching him - watching him - and he knew why he searched his face so studiously, what answers he sought.
He returned his gaze, and gave one small nod.
For a moment, just for one second, he asked himself how much of their fight was intentional, and if Nate pushed it back in the apartment, forcing him to the edge more quickly than his two day deadline could… Yet, when Nate returned his nod, nothing on his face showed whether he was pleased or not, so he dismissed it. He was too paranoid.
It was time to finish this. He sighed. “If you don’t mind, we could-”
“Forget it - you’re not driving back,” Nate shook his head. “Sophie will drive your car behind us, and you will rest, and pray that Betsy don’t find out about this. Ever.”
He pointed to the roof and the sound of munching.
“And about that,” Nate added with a sigh, opening his door.
He eyed Lucille; four meters distance. Nate was close to offering him a hand, so he simply stood up. That was an old trick for small distances - to start and go before the slow brain decided if the body was able to perform the necessary steps or not. And it worked this time too.
He was in the corner behind driver’s seat at the moment his brain told him, finally, that he couldn’t walk, and he almost smiled - but that smile froze when he saw what, exactly, was covering Florence’s head. She had his beanie. Who knows where she found it, somewhere in the apartment, and used it in a hurry. He opened his mouth to say something about it, but she saw he was looking at the cap and she visibly stiffened, going into defensive mode in a single second. What the hell was with that woman and her hair, why was every innocent remark, even a glance, a deadly insult? He averted his eyes, sighed and said goodbye to his beanie. He should ask Sophie about it… neutrally and around the bush.
He glanced at Sophie, met her eyes watching this exchange, and quickly changed his mind.
Sophie whispered something to Florence, and she nodded in return.
“I’ll stay here, Florence will drive the Challenger,” the grifter smiled at him gently, not showing any intention of going to sit in the front seat.
He drew back from her piercing eyes as far as he could, and contemplated fainting.
Yet, she didn’t try to talk to him at all, she just sat there leaving him alone, only offering company in case he wanted it. And they finally started, followed by the other car.
Nate was driving, Parker was destroying muffins beside him, and Hardison - again - tried to follow Betsy’s orders, turning off everything that blinked. The hacker sat at the side table with the screens, sadly looking into their dead, dark gloom.
The half darkness was beautiful. For a change, nobody talked and he relaxed, letting himself be lulled by the driving and darkness, closing his eyes. Sitting on the metal floor could hardly be called resting, but even that helped.
He had a lot of things to think about.
He was sure he could stay awake the entire trip, but the next time he opened his eyes, the sounds of traffic surrounded them, not the woods anymore… and Nate was saying something. There was tension in his voice, and that stirred him from drifting away.
“Maybe she just lost us in a crowd, and she’ll catch up,” Hardison replied. “I’m pulling up the surveillance program again, and I’ll tell you in a minute… yep, she’s way back behind us. Just slow down.”
For a minute Lucille was gently gliding through the traffic, and then Hardison spoke again.
“She stopped, the Challenger hasn’t moved at all since I spotted her.”
They all waited.
“Nope, this wasn't just a red light in traffic. She definitely stopped. Nate, turn back.”
Lucille continued at the same speed, in the same direction for a few seconds.
“Nate?”
Instead of turning the van back, Nate stepped on the pedal and lurched forward, in the same direction. They all bowled over in the back, and Eliot barely kept himself from slamming his head into Hardison’s table.
“Whoa! Thank you!” Hardison yelled. “What are you doing?”
A loud bang was the only answer for a few seconds; Nate slammed his fist into the dash. “She left the Challenger. Took a taxi,” his words were cut through gritted teeth.
“What the hell… I’ll track her phone. Jesus, people, I’ll really glue the tracking devices all over you, you’re-”
“No need to, I know where she’s going,” Nate said firmly, pressing the pedal even harder. “And I know why. I should’ve known, I should’ve predicted this after her questions!”
Eliot slowly got up. Parker gave him her seat in front without a word, and he sat, looking at Nate’s profile and tightly pressed lips.
“What’s going on?”
“We can only hope we can get there before her to stop her… Or she’s dead.”
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***
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Florence followed Lucille until they reached the highway again, slowly increasing the distance, letting other cars slip between them, one by one. When they reached Boston it was even easier, but she kept herself in sight, not wanting to alarm Nate too early. From Lucille, higher than most vehicles, he could still see her way behind.
It was one thing to let them help her. It was completely different to let them go war with the Boston mafia because they got too deeply involved, so there was nothing else left for them to do if they wanted to stay alive. And basically, that was what was happening right now. Now, they had no other choice left.
Her first thought was the police, but she dismissed it at once. She couldn’t explain hardly anything, she couldn’t mention their burglary at the C4 building, Knudsen’s mobsters in their corridor, the slaughterhouse, nothing. All of that would turn the attention of police to Leverage Inc, and that was almost as dangerous as the mobsters were for them. No, no police.
Running away also wasn’t an option, they would still be targets. She had to find some way to stop this, completely, before they got themselves more deeply involved in the mess, and started dying, one by one.
She knew their actions would be dangerous, but only today when Eliot listed everything that was against them, she realized that they could pay much bigger price than anybody expected. Well, except Eliot; he seemed to know exactly how deadly Nate’s decision was. And if their protector thought it was insane, a man who was trained to notice danger, that was it.
When he left the apartment she thought that put an end to their jobs, that he stopped Nate from further plans. Then she saw the relief in his eyes back in the woods when Nate said that he was working on all the plans at the same time. That meant something, something important - but from her point of view, it only meant they would start whatever they planned. And that he simply agreed to die with them - exactly as she feared, no other choices left - because that was the only outcome she could see, when she watched them. Only two of them could stay on their feet without trouble, for god’s sake, and the one who was supposed to protect them from killers was half dead.
She left the Challenger when she saw an empty taxi, and before anyone in Lucille noticed she wasn’t following them any more, she would be far away. Hardison was now the most dangerous of them. She turned her phone off, hoping he didn’t put something on her clothes.
She gave the driver the address, leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
She was frightened. And she had less than ten minutes to think of what to say and how to say it.
When the taxi left her in front, she checked the escape routes first, trying to remember everything around the building. There was a taxi stop about four hundred meters down the street - the shortest way to get to it was through the parking lot with a few white armored vehicles with the dark green Dvo-Sec logo on them.
She pulled the beanie lower over her eyes, and went into the large, lit, busy lobby.
“Tell Mr. Knudsen that Florence McCoy is here and wants to see him,” she said to a girl behind the desk, and smiled to a camera above the girl’s head.
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***
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Three men preceded Knudsen’s arrival. One of them was the first one that tried to break into her apartment, who held Sophie. He was smiling at her. When they came closer, she recognized one more - one of the Red Guards from the C4 building; she remembered how worried Eliot was when he studied them on the live feed. The killers. All of them were smiling at her, and fear raced up and down her spine. They took a stand, one by one, at the opposite wall of the lobby, and their eyes, strangely eager, followed her steps as she slowly walked away from them.
This was fucking surreal, she thought, watching Knudsen approaching her - watching the man who tried to kill her. If he felt the same, if he was startled by his victim casually coming to his doorstep, his face didn’t show it. The polite businessman mask was firmly in place.
“Dear Mrs. McCoy!” Knudsen’s face showed real delight - he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “I must say I’m honored and perplexed by your visit. It’s so rare for famous authors to visit the small people who work for their security, and I’m grateful for that.”
The words were pouring from his mouth in a smooth wave, absolutely honest. He was damn good. His smile, charming, sincere and even little embarrassed, was really reflecting in his pale eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would surely be deceived.
“We are, what a coincidence, just testing a new scanner. You will do us the honor and be the first of our clients to test it?” He waved to his men and the Red Guard, blond, tall, with a boyish smile, stepped forward and swept them both. “We’ll soon make it a part of the standard equipment,” he continued when his man shook his head, telling him she wasn’t wired.
She should’ve payed more attention when she listened to Sophie’s conversation with him. He was dangerous. She put her hands in her pockets to hide the trembling. These things looked so easy when written.
“I wanted to talk with you in my office, but I assume you would feel more comfortable here, in the open lobby, enjoying the many people around you,” Knudsen continued with a little nod. “I can tell you everything you want to know about your security,” he paused. Smiled. “Which Dvorak Security provides for your company.”
She nodded, answering his real message.
“You work hard, Mr. Knudsen, I couldn’t not notice that,” she said. “Your efforts, concerning my security, are well known to me, all of them. And I know how important that is for you.”
“I’m glad we understand each other.” He took a small step back and waved his hand gallantly. “Walk with me, around this secure, people-filled lobby, while we talk, will you?”
She took one long breath, invisible, she hoped, smiled at him with confidence, and followed him. She had to turn her back to the three goons and it felt awful, but they weren’t alone. He simply couldn’t kill her in front of all those people. Even a mafia-driven security company must have had some normal employees, who weren’t involved in their nastier jobs.
“You have something, maybe some idea, how to further improve your security, Mrs. McCoy?” he asked lightly, not watching her. His voice was quiet this time. “I have to say, I admire your move. It’s really sad that due to exception-”
“Cut the crap, will you?” She stopped, and he had to stop walking too, and turn to her. His eyes swirled around this time, checking their surroundings. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, and how do you think you will get away with murdering a famous author? Because of what? A crappy-” she broke off, remembering at the last second that she shouldn’t tell him she knew about the Ford pickup keys, “Winslow’s crappy recording about my show? Do you know how irrelevant that is to me? And do you really think I’m an idiot who would go whining to the police? You work in the movie and TV business for how long, and you still haven’t learned the rules?”
“You’re insinuating the strangest things,” he said carefully.
“I’m not a danger to you - I don’t give a flying fuck about Winslow, your business, your killers… all I want is for this to stop. I’ll give you that USB, do with it what you want, it has no value to me. I won’t go to police, you’re safe. Going to police is the worst thing I can do, and the last - I don’t need any scandals now, when I’m working on a new big project. That would ruin me.”
He stayed silent, watching her.
“That’s just a little hard for me to believe,” he said finally.
“That's your problem. I’m not a fool. I have a sealed statement which will be opened in case of my suspicious death, that accuses you and Dvorak Security. So just stop. We both don’t need trouble, and this situation is stupid. Why didn’t you come and talk to me first, before you just decided to kill me? It would spare us all lots of trouble. And innocent people wouldn’t be involved.”
“I still don’t know what you’re trying to say, except I’m confused by those accusations,” he said.
“Of course you don’t,” she smiled. “We understand each other. My offer, Mr. Knudsen: I don’t hold grudges. I’m not interested in your business, and as far as I’m concerned, after this conversation, I’ll delete you from my mind, just like that. As if nothing happened and we’ve never met. During the day you’ll receive a small package with the USB. What can you give me in return?”
She tried not to hold her breath while he thought.
“Okay, I’ll pretend and play this strange little game, as if it’s real,” he said, and she had to admire him avoiding saying anything suspicious - he wasn’t just talking to her, at the same time he was talking to the police, lawyers, judge and jury, just in case. “Your offer really turns this situation into something new for me - something positive. As a gentleman first, I feel obliged to return the same. Though, pretending I’ve never met such a beautiful lady won’t be the easiest thing for me,” he widened his smile.
She lifted her chin and met his eyes.
“Be more specific,” she said calmly.
“Although I don’t understand why you think I tried to kill you, to ease your worries, that is not an option anymore. Your offer is, really, good enough to stop that. Is that specific enough?”
She stared at him.
He wasn’t a bit unnerved. This went as if she had written his replies in advance - his agreement was too quick, too smooth, too… false. And yet, she was painfully aware how her speech, though it sounded powerful in her head, in the taxi, was weak and childish. If she came up with this dialogue for an episode, her own writers would send her to get them coffee and food while they tried to save it.
“Yes, it is,” she said finally, because there was nothing else she could say.
Of course he wasn’t unnerved, she just spared him a lot of troublesome searching. He would nod and agree to everything, smiling all the way, now that she was within his reach.
Sometimes - but only sometimes, unfortunately - she had to remind herself that writing a script, and living real life, had different set of laws. The real world didn’t function on logic and reason. This man couldn’t see the advantages of her offer, it wasn’t in his mindset.
They’d walked slowly to the other end of the lobby, and were now ready to turn and go back. She glanced around her. This part was not covered by a camera. The only one she saw, looking over the receptionist to the main doors, had recorded his warm welcome to her. The rest of the conversation nobody heard. He would probably make the same show when he let her out, and the police would have proof she left the building alive, in a good mood, after a very pleasant conversation with the owner. He would be clean.
Three men were still leaning on the wall on the opposite side. But someone unfamiliar took the place of the blond Red Guard. He was gone.
She maybe, just maybe, had a chance to reach the taxi stop - they wouldn’t risk killing her at their doorstep, not now that she'd came so close to them. They could allow themselves to give her a little distance.
“I will go now,” she said evenly, hiding the clenching of her hands in her pockets. Turning her phone on seemed irrelevant now; she was in deep shit, and they would be late in tracking her, anyway.
“You can go freely,” Knudsen smiled with the same, empty smile, escorting her back to the lobby. “If you want a tour through the building, we can arrange it for the next time.” After that, the smile almost became real, but the thoughts behind it made it terrifying. She bit back a reply, watching the sudden turmoil behind reception desk - the girl was explaining something to two men in technician suits. “No, it’s not in our system, it looks like it’s smashed. Change it, that one covers the entire parking lot-” she turned to them and froze when she saw Knudsen. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Knudsen - just one camera out of function.”
Something in her head shifted.
“I am soooo glad I found you here!” Sophie’s voice now froze both her and Knudsen, and they turned to the doors in an identical move.
“Inspector Lohman!” This time, it took some effort to put a smile on Knudsen’s face. “How can I help you?”
“This is not official,” Sophie continued with that strange voice, but her smile was even stranger - she stared at Knudsen, eyes wide open and full of barely hidden admiration. “I was just passing by, and I thought, there’s this fine young man, I might ask him to join me for a cup of coffee… are you busy?”
He glanced at her. “I… well, in fact, I’m right in the middle of something…” Florence could clearly see how he tried to concentrate on the possibly dangerous inspector while in the middle of an attempted murder, and his casual mask showed the first cracks.
“Of course, I understand.” Sophie then looked at her, judging her with a frown as if she was a threat, but then her face beamed again. “Oh. My. God! Florence McCoy!” She stepped closer and took both her hands, shaking them. “I’m a huge fan of yours, I’ve never missed an episode of your show!”
“Thank you,” Florence cleared her throat, feeling the earbud in her palm. “Thank you so much, Miss…”
“Lohman. Olivia Lohman.” Sophie turned to Knudsen. “Some other time then? I’ll call you,” she eye-lashed him and took her hand. “I’m soooo glad I finally get a chance to know you - you must join me, I have soooo many questions to ask you…” her hand was firmly wrapped around her forearm, and Florence let her escort her to the door. She pulled the beanie down, using the move to put the earbud in her ear. She even managed to look at Knudsen with confused eyes before they both stepped out of the building.
“They are all around the building, in positions, waiting for you,” Sophie’s voice went normal, with a just a hint of hurry. “Go to the underground garage. Shake off my hand and push me away, turn around and go, quickly, to the parking lot. Then run down.”
“The underground garage? It’s a kill box, only one exit-” She pushed Sophie as told.
“Dark enough to hide you,” Sophie nodded to the streets and lawns that surrounded them. She was right. Here, her every step was visible from hundreds of meters, there was no way she could avoid being seen.
Do what they tell you, without questions, she remembered her decision from before. She did what she was told and hurried in the given direction. The tall vans would provide good protection from sight, and the half darkness would give her a chance.
She stopped only a second to assess the situation. The garage was huge, clearly not only for Dvorak Security but for the other nearby office buildings too. It was just one, giant story underground, and for the first moment she couldn’t see anything, while her eyes adjusted to the dark.
The lights were scarce, and shadows crept around everywhere.
Did they just send a blonde to hide from killers, in a basement? It was a good thing she wasn’t in high heels. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, or curse - but she entered the deeper shadows of the tall vehicles, listening to the silence surrounding her.
The armored vehicles blocked her sight, robust and bigger than normal vans and she couldn’t see where to go.
“His men are already out, around the building.” Nate’s calm voice sounded in her ear. “They all have hoods over their usual clothes, it’d look like a gang robbery gone bad. They're armed, and they’ll shoot without hesitation - we need a distraction to get you out of here, to pass between them. The garage gives only the chance of delaying them, every other direction is too open and without cover.”
“What distraction? What can I do to-”
“Just keep walking. Try to hide and stay alive for the next ten minutes, while we work on getting you out of there.”
So she took a deep breath, and did just that.
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***
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Eliot and Nate took the central position from which they could keep an eye on the goons around the building, and reach the parking lot in time if needed. Parker had opened a parked car on the street for them, and they were both protected by the hood, while leaning over the engine.
Eliot let Nate do all the things that a pissed owner of a broke down car would do in this situation - pulling wires, opening the doors, grabbing things, hitting the bumpers in helpless rage. He put his elbows on the car, keeping his head in the shade of the hood. Watching everything around them. Preserving his strength.
He watched Knudsen’s men in their positions all around the building. Too much open space all around, broad streets, no cover, nowhere to hide. They had perfect lines to shoot and they were already too far apart from each other. To get rid of them all, they needed more than three points of distraction at the same time. No way they could do it now. Open attack was a suicide.
He monitored Sophie’s retreat, slow and unhappy, to the place they left Lucille.
Florence disappeared in the dark entrance of the underground garage.
Nate’s plan was the only thing that could get her out of there alive.
And it was going well, for now. He could see Hardison and Parker at the other end of parking lot, engaged in a quick conversation. Parker was waving her car keys, and Hardison seemed to be explaining something, working on his tablet and pushing it in her face. They looked like a couple having a fight on their way to their car, and yet he knew Hardison was step by step hacking into their security feed.
The plan was going well, although it was clear that his role was absolutely minimized. Nate put an emphasis on speed and a secure retreat this time, keeping him in reserve.
They had arrived only three minutes ago and had time for precisely nothing - but he wasn’t worried about their part of it. “Something is wrong here, Nate,” he said when the goons remained in position. At least one of them could see Florence turning to the parking lot, and even if no one saw her going into the garage, that one would alert all the others and tell them where she was. But they stayed in the open, holding their positions.
“I know. And I know what,” Nate almost disappeared under the hood, making loud clangs with a key. “And Hardison will tell us exactly that, in about-”
“Tell you what?” Hardison said. “I just managed to access their cameras, and I’m turning them off as we speak. No time for an unsuspicious fake malfunction like I did to the first one - it’s important they can’t see shit, and what they’re going to think about it isn’t import- ah, damn.”
“Ah, damn?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep annoyance out of his voice.
“There were four cameras in the garage, and I killed them - but Knudsen sent men there already. The elevator camera. They went down from inside the building, that’s why you didn’t see anyone moving around.”
“How many?”
“Five on this ride, but elevator immediately went up - maybe for the next round.”
Nate stopped hitting the engine. He knew Nate was thinking about the time and the chances, sorting them out in his head. He needed more time for the choreography, for all their moves. The possibility of mistakes just shot through the roof. Because of the men getting too close to Florence, he would have to speed everything up, or even abort this plan and come up with something else. And every minute they spent here, the danger was growing bigger.
Eliot checked all the goons once more - they hadn't moved. “How much time do you need?” he asked Nate.
A few seconds of silence. Nate knew what he was asking.
“I said,” he repeated. “How much time do you need?”
“I’ll know only when I start,” Parker said quietly, strangely hesitant. “But maybe fifteen minutes. No, at least fifteen minutes.”
He looked at her over the street and parking lot - they were close to the entrance of the garage by now - and saw them both just standing there, watching them.
There was no chance that Florence, no matter how well hidden, could escape those men searching through garage for fifteen minutes.
Nate nodded.
“Make it ten,” he said. And started.
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
Chapter 28
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***
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The first things Eliot checked when he regained consciousness, without opening his eyes, were the sounds. Chirping, the soft rustle of leaves when a breeze moved through the trees, and the very, very distant sound of traffic, coming from behind him, where he left the main road.
The scent of warm soil had a trace of vanilla in it.
He opened his eyes and slowly straightened up, feeling like everything around him still moved a little. Then he looked at the pair of legs in sneakers that were swinging in front of him, and realized that the Challenger was rocking a bit.
His movement was like a motion detector going off, she felt it, and Parker turned upside down, now her head was hanging in front of him. The dizziness ran wild and he squinted.
“If you keeping making these cereal muffins, Betsy won’t have to know about this little trip of yours,” she said with her mouth full. Okay, one good thing, they remembered to turn the oven off.
He slowly turned his head to the left, to Lucille parked only few a meters away - he didn’t hear it coming - and four of them lined up, and watching him. The side doors were open, Sophie and Florence were sitting on the floor. Another good thing - they didn’t leave Florence alone in the apartment.
“When…?” he started, his voice strangely uneven.
“A minute ago,” Parker cheerfully said. “We checked if you were alive, and decided to let you come together on your own.”
A wise move. But she knew how to speed it up, sending vibrations to his subconsciousness; her leg swinging wasn’t accidental.
“How?” He left his phone at the apartment, they couldn’t track him.
“I never - okay, rarely - make the same mistake twice,” Hardison said, pointing behind his back. In the dark inside of Lucille he saw his monitor, all dark except of the one giant green dot. He squinted and sharpened his vision, focusing, and the blurry giant dot became many, many little green dots in one cluster. That wasn’t one fucking tracking device in his car. There was more than ten of them. He imagined all the time he would spend searching for them and cleaning it, and moaned, thrusting his head back on the wheel.
“Why?” he muttered.
“Are you trying to write an article, Eliot?” Nate asked dryly. “You need the who and where to complete your inquiry. What, we shall keep for ourselves, this time.”
He turned his head on the wheel and looked at him through the hair that fell over his eyes. And said nothing.
“So, what is the result of this?” Nate asked.
If nothing else, Nate had that irritating ability to sum all shit up. He continued to look at him, trying to choose his words. “You can’t guarantee that the center of the gravity would suck it all down, and you know that.”
“There’s no guarantee in anything we do. You know that.”
“This time is different. This time we can all die,” he said. Nate just raised his eyebrows, so he collected all his thoughts and continued, “Where are you with your Plans? Which letter are you on, now?”
Nate smiled. “All of them.”
Well, that shouldn’t calm his fears, but it did. It wasn’t like he had any choice now, anyway. Leaving them for real was never an option, it was only a matter of deciding who, exactly, would stay with them.
Then, continuing with that staying, he remembered the third thing that wasn’t so good - George was left with Orion, alone, for the second time in one day. He should’ve brought him with him, but his leaving the apartment with a plant tucked under his arm would be maybe, just maybe, a little weird. He shook that off and took a deep breath.
“I need to know something,” Florence said suddenly before he could say anything. He looked at her, just then noticing she had something on her head. No time to dry her hair, he realized, so she wrapped it up with something dark. “Nate, what, why, how-” she stopped under Nate’s smile, and took another turn. “What’s going on? What plans, what letters, how many jobs? And why? Why Don Lazzara, what does he have to do with everything, except his nephew-”
“If we try to take down only Knudsen, we would end up with all of Dvorak Security, the Frac mine mobsters, and Don Lazzara’s men after us. Everything here is connected, Knudsen, Don Lazzara, the mine… we can’t touch one without stirring the others. Eliot is right - we can’t do four jobs at the same time - we can pull this off only if we find the center of gravity between everything that I counted. Find a way to destroy it so that it will pull all the others after it, when it, or he, falls.”
She stared at him without reply and he couldn’t blame her. Nate sounded like a lunatic to an untrained ear. Sometimes, even to those who were trained, he added to himself.
Instead of answering that, she sighed, reached somewhere behind her in the dark, and returned to the light with a muffin. What, they prepared for a fucking picnic? Though, this was more like a safari - the next thing he should expect was them trying to feed the wild life they chased, cornered and caught. He slowly pushed himself from the wheel, trying to decide what to do now.
Nate was still watching him - watching him - and he knew why he searched his face so studiously, what answers he sought.
He returned his gaze, and gave one small nod.
For a moment, just for one second, he asked himself how much of their fight was intentional, and if Nate pushed it back in the apartment, forcing him to the edge more quickly than his two day deadline could… Yet, when Nate returned his nod, nothing on his face showed whether he was pleased or not, so he dismissed it. He was too paranoid.
It was time to finish this. He sighed. “If you don’t mind, we could-”
“Forget it - you’re not driving back,” Nate shook his head. “Sophie will drive your car behind us, and you will rest, and pray that Betsy don’t find out about this. Ever.”
He pointed to the roof and the sound of munching.
“And about that,” Nate added with a sigh, opening his door.
He eyed Lucille; four meters distance. Nate was close to offering him a hand, so he simply stood up. That was an old trick for small distances - to start and go before the slow brain decided if the body was able to perform the necessary steps or not. And it worked this time too.
He was in the corner behind driver’s seat at the moment his brain told him, finally, that he couldn’t walk, and he almost smiled - but that smile froze when he saw what, exactly, was covering Florence’s head. She had his beanie. Who knows where she found it, somewhere in the apartment, and used it in a hurry. He opened his mouth to say something about it, but she saw he was looking at the cap and she visibly stiffened, going into defensive mode in a single second. What the hell was with that woman and her hair, why was every innocent remark, even a glance, a deadly insult? He averted his eyes, sighed and said goodbye to his beanie. He should ask Sophie about it… neutrally and around the bush.
He glanced at Sophie, met her eyes watching this exchange, and quickly changed his mind.
Sophie whispered something to Florence, and she nodded in return.
“I’ll stay here, Florence will drive the Challenger,” the grifter smiled at him gently, not showing any intention of going to sit in the front seat.
He drew back from her piercing eyes as far as he could, and contemplated fainting.
Yet, she didn’t try to talk to him at all, she just sat there leaving him alone, only offering company in case he wanted it. And they finally started, followed by the other car.
Nate was driving, Parker was destroying muffins beside him, and Hardison - again - tried to follow Betsy’s orders, turning off everything that blinked. The hacker sat at the side table with the screens, sadly looking into their dead, dark gloom.
The half darkness was beautiful. For a change, nobody talked and he relaxed, letting himself be lulled by the driving and darkness, closing his eyes. Sitting on the metal floor could hardly be called resting, but even that helped.
He had a lot of things to think about.
He was sure he could stay awake the entire trip, but the next time he opened his eyes, the sounds of traffic surrounded them, not the woods anymore… and Nate was saying something. There was tension in his voice, and that stirred him from drifting away.
“Maybe she just lost us in a crowd, and she’ll catch up,” Hardison replied. “I’m pulling up the surveillance program again, and I’ll tell you in a minute… yep, she’s way back behind us. Just slow down.”
For a minute Lucille was gently gliding through the traffic, and then Hardison spoke again.
“She stopped, the Challenger hasn’t moved at all since I spotted her.”
They all waited.
“Nope, this wasn't just a red light in traffic. She definitely stopped. Nate, turn back.”
Lucille continued at the same speed, in the same direction for a few seconds.
“Nate?”
Instead of turning the van back, Nate stepped on the pedal and lurched forward, in the same direction. They all bowled over in the back, and Eliot barely kept himself from slamming his head into Hardison’s table.
“Whoa! Thank you!” Hardison yelled. “What are you doing?”
A loud bang was the only answer for a few seconds; Nate slammed his fist into the dash. “She left the Challenger. Took a taxi,” his words were cut through gritted teeth.
“What the hell… I’ll track her phone. Jesus, people, I’ll really glue the tracking devices all over you, you’re-”
“No need to, I know where she’s going,” Nate said firmly, pressing the pedal even harder. “And I know why. I should’ve known, I should’ve predicted this after her questions!”
Eliot slowly got up. Parker gave him her seat in front without a word, and he sat, looking at Nate’s profile and tightly pressed lips.
“What’s going on?”
“We can only hope we can get there before her to stop her… Or she’s dead.”
.
.
.
***
.
Florence followed Lucille until they reached the highway again, slowly increasing the distance, letting other cars slip between them, one by one. When they reached Boston it was even easier, but she kept herself in sight, not wanting to alarm Nate too early. From Lucille, higher than most vehicles, he could still see her way behind.
It was one thing to let them help her. It was completely different to let them go war with the Boston mafia because they got too deeply involved, so there was nothing else left for them to do if they wanted to stay alive. And basically, that was what was happening right now. Now, they had no other choice left.
Her first thought was the police, but she dismissed it at once. She couldn’t explain hardly anything, she couldn’t mention their burglary at the C4 building, Knudsen’s mobsters in their corridor, the slaughterhouse, nothing. All of that would turn the attention of police to Leverage Inc, and that was almost as dangerous as the mobsters were for them. No, no police.
Running away also wasn’t an option, they would still be targets. She had to find some way to stop this, completely, before they got themselves more deeply involved in the mess, and started dying, one by one.
She knew their actions would be dangerous, but only today when Eliot listed everything that was against them, she realized that they could pay much bigger price than anybody expected. Well, except Eliot; he seemed to know exactly how deadly Nate’s decision was. And if their protector thought it was insane, a man who was trained to notice danger, that was it.
When he left the apartment she thought that put an end to their jobs, that he stopped Nate from further plans. Then she saw the relief in his eyes back in the woods when Nate said that he was working on all the plans at the same time. That meant something, something important - but from her point of view, it only meant they would start whatever they planned. And that he simply agreed to die with them - exactly as she feared, no other choices left - because that was the only outcome she could see, when she watched them. Only two of them could stay on their feet without trouble, for god’s sake, and the one who was supposed to protect them from killers was half dead.
She left the Challenger when she saw an empty taxi, and before anyone in Lucille noticed she wasn’t following them any more, she would be far away. Hardison was now the most dangerous of them. She turned her phone off, hoping he didn’t put something on her clothes.
She gave the driver the address, leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
She was frightened. And she had less than ten minutes to think of what to say and how to say it.
When the taxi left her in front, she checked the escape routes first, trying to remember everything around the building. There was a taxi stop about four hundred meters down the street - the shortest way to get to it was through the parking lot with a few white armored vehicles with the dark green Dvo-Sec logo on them.
She pulled the beanie lower over her eyes, and went into the large, lit, busy lobby.
“Tell Mr. Knudsen that Florence McCoy is here and wants to see him,” she said to a girl behind the desk, and smiled to a camera above the girl’s head.
.
.
.
***
.
Three men preceded Knudsen’s arrival. One of them was the first one that tried to break into her apartment, who held Sophie. He was smiling at her. When they came closer, she recognized one more - one of the Red Guards from the C4 building; she remembered how worried Eliot was when he studied them on the live feed. The killers. All of them were smiling at her, and fear raced up and down her spine. They took a stand, one by one, at the opposite wall of the lobby, and their eyes, strangely eager, followed her steps as she slowly walked away from them.
This was fucking surreal, she thought, watching Knudsen approaching her - watching the man who tried to kill her. If he felt the same, if he was startled by his victim casually coming to his doorstep, his face didn’t show it. The polite businessman mask was firmly in place.
“Dear Mrs. McCoy!” Knudsen’s face showed real delight - he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “I must say I’m honored and perplexed by your visit. It’s so rare for famous authors to visit the small people who work for their security, and I’m grateful for that.”
The words were pouring from his mouth in a smooth wave, absolutely honest. He was damn good. His smile, charming, sincere and even little embarrassed, was really reflecting in his pale eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would surely be deceived.
“We are, what a coincidence, just testing a new scanner. You will do us the honor and be the first of our clients to test it?” He waved to his men and the Red Guard, blond, tall, with a boyish smile, stepped forward and swept them both. “We’ll soon make it a part of the standard equipment,” he continued when his man shook his head, telling him she wasn’t wired.
She should’ve payed more attention when she listened to Sophie’s conversation with him. He was dangerous. She put her hands in her pockets to hide the trembling. These things looked so easy when written.
“I wanted to talk with you in my office, but I assume you would feel more comfortable here, in the open lobby, enjoying the many people around you,” Knudsen continued with a little nod. “I can tell you everything you want to know about your security,” he paused. Smiled. “Which Dvorak Security provides for your company.”
She nodded, answering his real message.
“You work hard, Mr. Knudsen, I couldn’t not notice that,” she said. “Your efforts, concerning my security, are well known to me, all of them. And I know how important that is for you.”
“I’m glad we understand each other.” He took a small step back and waved his hand gallantly. “Walk with me, around this secure, people-filled lobby, while we talk, will you?”
She took one long breath, invisible, she hoped, smiled at him with confidence, and followed him. She had to turn her back to the three goons and it felt awful, but they weren’t alone. He simply couldn’t kill her in front of all those people. Even a mafia-driven security company must have had some normal employees, who weren’t involved in their nastier jobs.
“You have something, maybe some idea, how to further improve your security, Mrs. McCoy?” he asked lightly, not watching her. His voice was quiet this time. “I have to say, I admire your move. It’s really sad that due to exception-”
“Cut the crap, will you?” She stopped, and he had to stop walking too, and turn to her. His eyes swirled around this time, checking their surroundings. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, and how do you think you will get away with murdering a famous author? Because of what? A crappy-” she broke off, remembering at the last second that she shouldn’t tell him she knew about the Ford pickup keys, “Winslow’s crappy recording about my show? Do you know how irrelevant that is to me? And do you really think I’m an idiot who would go whining to the police? You work in the movie and TV business for how long, and you still haven’t learned the rules?”
“You’re insinuating the strangest things,” he said carefully.
“I’m not a danger to you - I don’t give a flying fuck about Winslow, your business, your killers… all I want is for this to stop. I’ll give you that USB, do with it what you want, it has no value to me. I won’t go to police, you’re safe. Going to police is the worst thing I can do, and the last - I don’t need any scandals now, when I’m working on a new big project. That would ruin me.”
He stayed silent, watching her.
“That’s just a little hard for me to believe,” he said finally.
“That's your problem. I’m not a fool. I have a sealed statement which will be opened in case of my suspicious death, that accuses you and Dvorak Security. So just stop. We both don’t need trouble, and this situation is stupid. Why didn’t you come and talk to me first, before you just decided to kill me? It would spare us all lots of trouble. And innocent people wouldn’t be involved.”
“I still don’t know what you’re trying to say, except I’m confused by those accusations,” he said.
“Of course you don’t,” she smiled. “We understand each other. My offer, Mr. Knudsen: I don’t hold grudges. I’m not interested in your business, and as far as I’m concerned, after this conversation, I’ll delete you from my mind, just like that. As if nothing happened and we’ve never met. During the day you’ll receive a small package with the USB. What can you give me in return?”
She tried not to hold her breath while he thought.
“Okay, I’ll pretend and play this strange little game, as if it’s real,” he said, and she had to admire him avoiding saying anything suspicious - he wasn’t just talking to her, at the same time he was talking to the police, lawyers, judge and jury, just in case. “Your offer really turns this situation into something new for me - something positive. As a gentleman first, I feel obliged to return the same. Though, pretending I’ve never met such a beautiful lady won’t be the easiest thing for me,” he widened his smile.
She lifted her chin and met his eyes.
“Be more specific,” she said calmly.
“Although I don’t understand why you think I tried to kill you, to ease your worries, that is not an option anymore. Your offer is, really, good enough to stop that. Is that specific enough?”
She stared at him.
He wasn’t a bit unnerved. This went as if she had written his replies in advance - his agreement was too quick, too smooth, too… false. And yet, she was painfully aware how her speech, though it sounded powerful in her head, in the taxi, was weak and childish. If she came up with this dialogue for an episode, her own writers would send her to get them coffee and food while they tried to save it.
“Yes, it is,” she said finally, because there was nothing else she could say.
Of course he wasn’t unnerved, she just spared him a lot of troublesome searching. He would nod and agree to everything, smiling all the way, now that she was within his reach.
Sometimes - but only sometimes, unfortunately - she had to remind herself that writing a script, and living real life, had different set of laws. The real world didn’t function on logic and reason. This man couldn’t see the advantages of her offer, it wasn’t in his mindset.
They’d walked slowly to the other end of the lobby, and were now ready to turn and go back. She glanced around her. This part was not covered by a camera. The only one she saw, looking over the receptionist to the main doors, had recorded his warm welcome to her. The rest of the conversation nobody heard. He would probably make the same show when he let her out, and the police would have proof she left the building alive, in a good mood, after a very pleasant conversation with the owner. He would be clean.
Three men were still leaning on the wall on the opposite side. But someone unfamiliar took the place of the blond Red Guard. He was gone.
She maybe, just maybe, had a chance to reach the taxi stop - they wouldn’t risk killing her at their doorstep, not now that she'd came so close to them. They could allow themselves to give her a little distance.
“I will go now,” she said evenly, hiding the clenching of her hands in her pockets. Turning her phone on seemed irrelevant now; she was in deep shit, and they would be late in tracking her, anyway.
“You can go freely,” Knudsen smiled with the same, empty smile, escorting her back to the lobby. “If you want a tour through the building, we can arrange it for the next time.” After that, the smile almost became real, but the thoughts behind it made it terrifying. She bit back a reply, watching the sudden turmoil behind reception desk - the girl was explaining something to two men in technician suits. “No, it’s not in our system, it looks like it’s smashed. Change it, that one covers the entire parking lot-” she turned to them and froze when she saw Knudsen. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Knudsen - just one camera out of function.”
Something in her head shifted.
“I am soooo glad I found you here!” Sophie’s voice now froze both her and Knudsen, and they turned to the doors in an identical move.
“Inspector Lohman!” This time, it took some effort to put a smile on Knudsen’s face. “How can I help you?”
“This is not official,” Sophie continued with that strange voice, but her smile was even stranger - she stared at Knudsen, eyes wide open and full of barely hidden admiration. “I was just passing by, and I thought, there’s this fine young man, I might ask him to join me for a cup of coffee… are you busy?”
He glanced at her. “I… well, in fact, I’m right in the middle of something…” Florence could clearly see how he tried to concentrate on the possibly dangerous inspector while in the middle of an attempted murder, and his casual mask showed the first cracks.
“Of course, I understand.” Sophie then looked at her, judging her with a frown as if she was a threat, but then her face beamed again. “Oh. My. God! Florence McCoy!” She stepped closer and took both her hands, shaking them. “I’m a huge fan of yours, I’ve never missed an episode of your show!”
“Thank you,” Florence cleared her throat, feeling the earbud in her palm. “Thank you so much, Miss…”
“Lohman. Olivia Lohman.” Sophie turned to Knudsen. “Some other time then? I’ll call you,” she eye-lashed him and took her hand. “I’m soooo glad I finally get a chance to know you - you must join me, I have soooo many questions to ask you…” her hand was firmly wrapped around her forearm, and Florence let her escort her to the door. She pulled the beanie down, using the move to put the earbud in her ear. She even managed to look at Knudsen with confused eyes before they both stepped out of the building.
“They are all around the building, in positions, waiting for you,” Sophie’s voice went normal, with a just a hint of hurry. “Go to the underground garage. Shake off my hand and push me away, turn around and go, quickly, to the parking lot. Then run down.”
“The underground garage? It’s a kill box, only one exit-” She pushed Sophie as told.
“Dark enough to hide you,” Sophie nodded to the streets and lawns that surrounded them. She was right. Here, her every step was visible from hundreds of meters, there was no way she could avoid being seen.
Do what they tell you, without questions, she remembered her decision from before. She did what she was told and hurried in the given direction. The tall vans would provide good protection from sight, and the half darkness would give her a chance.
She stopped only a second to assess the situation. The garage was huge, clearly not only for Dvorak Security but for the other nearby office buildings too. It was just one, giant story underground, and for the first moment she couldn’t see anything, while her eyes adjusted to the dark.
The lights were scarce, and shadows crept around everywhere.
Did they just send a blonde to hide from killers, in a basement? It was a good thing she wasn’t in high heels. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, or curse - but she entered the deeper shadows of the tall vehicles, listening to the silence surrounding her.
The armored vehicles blocked her sight, robust and bigger than normal vans and she couldn’t see where to go.
“His men are already out, around the building.” Nate’s calm voice sounded in her ear. “They all have hoods over their usual clothes, it’d look like a gang robbery gone bad. They're armed, and they’ll shoot without hesitation - we need a distraction to get you out of here, to pass between them. The garage gives only the chance of delaying them, every other direction is too open and without cover.”
“What distraction? What can I do to-”
“Just keep walking. Try to hide and stay alive for the next ten minutes, while we work on getting you out of there.”
So she took a deep breath, and did just that.
.
.
.
***
.
Eliot and Nate took the central position from which they could keep an eye on the goons around the building, and reach the parking lot in time if needed. Parker had opened a parked car on the street for them, and they were both protected by the hood, while leaning over the engine.
Eliot let Nate do all the things that a pissed owner of a broke down car would do in this situation - pulling wires, opening the doors, grabbing things, hitting the bumpers in helpless rage. He put his elbows on the car, keeping his head in the shade of the hood. Watching everything around them. Preserving his strength.
He watched Knudsen’s men in their positions all around the building. Too much open space all around, broad streets, no cover, nowhere to hide. They had perfect lines to shoot and they were already too far apart from each other. To get rid of them all, they needed more than three points of distraction at the same time. No way they could do it now. Open attack was a suicide.
He monitored Sophie’s retreat, slow and unhappy, to the place they left Lucille.
Florence disappeared in the dark entrance of the underground garage.
Nate’s plan was the only thing that could get her out of there alive.
And it was going well, for now. He could see Hardison and Parker at the other end of parking lot, engaged in a quick conversation. Parker was waving her car keys, and Hardison seemed to be explaining something, working on his tablet and pushing it in her face. They looked like a couple having a fight on their way to their car, and yet he knew Hardison was step by step hacking into their security feed.
The plan was going well, although it was clear that his role was absolutely minimized. Nate put an emphasis on speed and a secure retreat this time, keeping him in reserve.
They had arrived only three minutes ago and had time for precisely nothing - but he wasn’t worried about their part of it. “Something is wrong here, Nate,” he said when the goons remained in position. At least one of them could see Florence turning to the parking lot, and even if no one saw her going into the garage, that one would alert all the others and tell them where she was. But they stayed in the open, holding their positions.
“I know. And I know what,” Nate almost disappeared under the hood, making loud clangs with a key. “And Hardison will tell us exactly that, in about-”
“Tell you what?” Hardison said. “I just managed to access their cameras, and I’m turning them off as we speak. No time for an unsuspicious fake malfunction like I did to the first one - it’s important they can’t see shit, and what they’re going to think about it isn’t import- ah, damn.”
“Ah, damn?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep annoyance out of his voice.
“There were four cameras in the garage, and I killed them - but Knudsen sent men there already. The elevator camera. They went down from inside the building, that’s why you didn’t see anyone moving around.”
“How many?”
“Five on this ride, but elevator immediately went up - maybe for the next round.”
Nate stopped hitting the engine. He knew Nate was thinking about the time and the chances, sorting them out in his head. He needed more time for the choreography, for all their moves. The possibility of mistakes just shot through the roof. Because of the men getting too close to Florence, he would have to speed everything up, or even abort this plan and come up with something else. And every minute they spent here, the danger was growing bigger.
Eliot checked all the goons once more - they hadn't moved. “How much time do you need?” he asked Nate.
A few seconds of silence. Nate knew what he was asking.
“I said,” he repeated. “How much time do you need?”
“I’ll know only when I start,” Parker said quietly, strangely hesitant. “But maybe fifteen minutes. No, at least fifteen minutes.”
He looked at her over the street and parking lot - they were close to the entrance of the garage by now - and saw them both just standing there, watching them.
There was no chance that Florence, no matter how well hidden, could escape those men searching through garage for fifteen minutes.
Nate nodded.
“Make it ten,” he said. And started.