It felt as if my world was spiraling. I’m stalling, I reassured myself. This is a tactical move. He hasn’t gotten the better of me…
I needed to regroup, to reassess. I’d discover a new angle of attack. I simply had to get some fresh air.
“Excellent!” Vincent said. “Glad we could sort this all out. I must admit, I didn’t see this coming. So glad I listened to my mentor. He has this phrase he drilled into me. ‘Hope for the best, plan for the worst.’ It annoyed me sometimes, but times like this make me grateful.”
My muscle froze. All I could do was think. And only one thought repeated: he evaded me with my family’s motto… MY FAMILY’S MOTTO! A motto he undoubtedly learned from Benjamin Hunter – my grandfather’s old friend!
I ground my teeth. Tactics are like a sword, I reminded myself. They’re amoral, a tool towards an end. It wasn’t imperative. Nevertheless, I still didn’t wish for us to share this in common. I didn’t wish for my family’s knowledge to be utilized in such a manner. It undermined what I find beautiful about tactics –how a proper application of knowledge could better the world.
“Why did you do all this?” I asked. I wasn’t certain he’d provide a genuine answer, but I saw no harm in asking. You’d be surprised how many are willing to share when they feel they’ve nothing to lose.
The clink of nearby silver wear against plates met my ears, not answers.
“If you want to find out,” he said, his voice nonchalant, “why don’t you come here and torture it out of me? I think we could have a fun time together.”
I’ve never wished to take a bath as much as I have then. “Simply honor your end of our deal.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve seen the error of my ways and shall sin no more. Anything else?”
As much as I wished to gain some greater nugget of truth or maneuver him into a position of weakness, I didn’t wish to overreach.
Vincent instructed me to return the phone to Wyatt. A moment or so later, Wyatt ended the call, stood, and exited without a word.
I played the role of a diner while considering anything I might use to my advantage. I considered stealing some silverware, to inspect for fingerprints, but it struck me as too much risk for something so minuscule and left after eating.
I returned the vehicle to the safe house, altered my disguise once more, and exited with the car I previously stole. I parked it a couple of blocks away from where I stole it – I feared running into the owner if I returned it to its exact spot – and strolled back to the hotel.
The Damatessa outside bared me no second thought as I returned. One elevator ride later and I was back on the floor I rented out.
Becca exploded off the sofa when I entered the room.
“You’re back!” she cried out before she fastened her arms around me. “I was getting worried! We heard that Sylvia was returned, so when we didn’t hear from you…”
“My apologies.” I slid my arms around her waist and tugged her in. “There was a great deal to take in.”
We relocated to the sofa, where I brought them up to speed. The second I told them about Vincent, Becca punched the air.
“I called it!” She mimed a pipe in her mouth with her hands and winked. “Who better to solve the mysteries of the universe than a mistress of mysticism?”
A smile tugged at my lips – it’s difficult to not enjoy her – but I remained focused and elaborated on the deal I made.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
When I finished, Wynn's face creased. “Lilah isn’t going to like this…”
“Call her,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”
Wynn performed as asked and I soon found myself on the line opposite Lilah.
“Qiang is with Sylvia at the safe house,” Lilah said. “She’s explained what happened. Or as best as she can. It was pretty much as we gathered, one detail aside.”
“What detail?” I asked.
“Wyatt – I’m assuming it was him – told her he had orders to kill her but didn’t wish to because she was a child. He couldn’t just leave her there though, as the ones who sent him would return. He asked for her cooperation in escaping. She decided to go along with it since the alternative was to say no and die. She showed him the secret passage, at which point he knocked her unconscious. She came to while underground, tied up.”
I stroked my chin with my free hand while wondering how much of that was true. If he did indeed wish to avoid harming children, I could conceivably turn him against Vincent. However, there was something far more pressing to concern myself with.
“Lilah, Sylvia is blown. If I were Ozon, I wouldn’t stress about losing her since I’ve seen her face. I’m certain he can locate her.”
“Don’t worry about that. I will make sure she doesn’t come under fire again.”
“Are you removing her from the underworld?”
“I told you before, she’s destined to—”
“She isn’t destined for anything,” I said firmly. “Destiny doesn’t exist.”
“Why do I have to keep reminding you that not everybody can be as lucky as you? What would you have me do? Abandon her to the state?”
“…If you care about her so much, why not retire from your position and start anew with her? Live a civil life.”
“Again,” she said, her voice strained, “not everybody can be born as lucky as you. That isn’t an option for someone like me!”
I jerked the phone away from my ear as she took a steadying breath.
“Even if it was,” she continued, “I can’t. I’m responsible for people beyond Sylvia. Without me, they’ll end up getting preyed on by someone who’ll take advantage of them.”
Based on reports I received from Wynn, she spoke the truth. I’ve never been the fondest of her work, but I prefer it to the alternatives. States and the systems they create are flawed. They will always be flawed. I don’t wish to do away with them – something is better than nothing – but safety nets are necessary for those who fall through the cracks or don’t fit the system. And sometimes the only place those safety nets can exist is in the shadows, in the underworld.
Nevertheless, I didn’t wish to leave Sylvia in the environment.
“What if I share my luck?” I asked, utilizing a scheme I forged on the ride back. “Sylvia can pose as Wynn’s long-lost half-sister. It wouldn’t be unimaginable.”
“You’re just as much a criminal as me. Or are you planning to retire?”
“Our actions won’t matter if she’s attending a boarding school. It would relocate her out of the way and provide her with an opportunity she wouldn’t have otherwise. I’m certain my family could arrange something.”
“What about Ozonnole? They know her face. If they chance upon her, it would be traced back to you.”
“We can disguise her somewhat in the meantime. She’s growing right now, so I doubt she’d be recognizable. Besides…” I gulped. It was time to commit. “I know who Ozonnole is.”
“Who?!” Lilah shot across the line. “Give me their name and I’ll take care of it!”
“I can’t. Not yet anyway. There will be collateral damage if they go down.”
“What damage?”
“Deaths.”
My mind replayed the gashed throat and scarlet stain. My throat knotted as my grip stiffened.
“And trust me,” I said, “they aren’t bluffing. They’re docile so long as I leave them be.”
“So that’s that?” she asked, bitter.
“Of course not. Have you forgotten who I am? What I am? What I do?”
“You’ve spared people in the past.”
“I tailored those conclusions to the circumstances. There are ways of taking responsibility for one’s actions which don’t require severe punishment or destroying people’s futures.”
“Why should I believe that you won’t do it here?”
I sneered. How could she even dare ask me such a question? Vincent murdered a man! He murdered a man for the sake of a convincer! A convincer that targeted ME! A convincer who wouldn’t exist if I wasn’t his target! A convincer which likely wouldn’t have ever been conceived if I hadn’t performed as I did in front of Sylvia…
“Because I have to take responsibility,” I said.
Saving that man’s future was outside my power. Vincent’s future, however, isn’t. I swore then and there that I would ensure Vincent suffered for his actions.
“Besides,” I continued, “I must do so for Sylvia. Or do you object to my scheme?”
Lilah grew quiet. Enough so that I thought she might’ve dropped the call. After what felt like an eternity, she said, “It’s her choice, not mine. Ask her yourself.”
“I’ll speak with her in person after this mess is resolved. And speaking of this mess, I require… something. Quite urgently.”
“How urgent?”
“Before sunrise.”
“What do you need?”
I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. This was, undoubtedly, the most absurd request I ever had for a job.
“Adult toys,” I whispered. “I’m at a hotel with Becca, my cover story is that this is a romantic rendezvous, Vincent’s Damatessa tailed me, and I came in with a briefcase. They might halt and question me when I leave. Best to be prepared.”
“Is there anything specific—”
“No!”
My face simmered from requesting anything of the sort from her.
“I’ll quickly arrange what I can,” she said. “Anything else?”
“While I have you, can we discuss the items I had Wynn request?”
“The masks and the helicopter? It’ll take a couple of days to prepare, but that’s easy enough. But you don’t need me to find you a pilot.”
I arched my brow. “I don’t?”
“Crow. It’s one of those ex-military skills.”
“He refuses to work with us anymore. Said we contracted him for a single job and, since the job is complete, he’s done.”
“He’s full of crap. Qiang told me he asked all kinds of questions about Sylvia. He fussed over her safety and even bought her food from Bullseye Burger before bringing her to the safe house. I’ll speak with him.”
My brows sprung up. After the night I had, I’d take whatever boons I could claim.
We ended our chat not too long after. Wynn exited the room for another while Becca and I remained together. The night progressed as if everything which occurred hadn’t. As if a little girl wasn’t kidnapped. As if a random man wasn’t killed. As if I wasn’t being monitored. As if I didn’t have a conflict with Grandpa brewing in the background.