The Big Wheel

by Scott Archer Jones

  “You’ve already spent a lot trying to seize it. Buying it is a lot less work and more certain.” All true, but would O’Brien get past his power trip and see the obvious?

  “And he keeps the third.” O’Brien’s voice sounded like it was full of grit.

  “Build another one.”

  “That’s not it, and you know it. He holds the third one over my head.”

  “Then, take all the action away. After we retrieve what we can, take the Artifacts public. Sell them like TVs, like iMobs.”

  “Bull. That’s only money. Can you imagine how much power I would have as the only immortal on a planet of the dying?”

  “Ah. That’s what I figured.” Just go on-and-on while the rest of us feed the worm.

  “Immortals need servants and agents too, Thomas. You’re taken care of, as long as you protect the secret.”

  Thomas grimaced. He wanted to run a company, not play butler for O’Brien. “What do you need in order to proceed with this negotiation?”

  “I need to know the two Artifacts have in truth been taken.”

  Thomas’s words came so quick they stumbled. “I don’t think you should alert the staff at your lab. It could leak out into office gossip.”

  “Give me some credit here. I sent the lab director to check, just a minute ago. Only he will know.”

  “What else? What are my instructions as your negotiator?”

  “First, offer him ten mill, and settle at twelve and a half.”

  “Understood.”

  “And tell him it takes time to get that much cash together.”

  “So it does.”

  “No, not really.”

  “Interesting.” Vanity makes people tell you the damnedest things. O’Brien had millions in hand—under the mattress?

  “Using the cash as an alibi buys me a couple of days. Tell him he has to bring the Artifact to me personally, at my mansion out on Long Island.”

  “He won’t go for it. He’ll want an exchange on neutral ground.”

  “Tell him he can have his money at my house, and I’ll throw his mother in for free.”

  “You kidnapped his mother?” Thomas’s mind stumbled; he felt dizzy. O’Brien must have been working on this before the phone call, flushing Zlata out in his own wicked way.

  “We began moving on it yesterday. LeFarge flew out to transport her back, and his man on the ground in Chicago may already have her, locked in the trunk of a car.”

  “Dennis, this is a very big mistake. Just give him the money out in the open. Don’t snatch his mom.”

  “No. He might have gone to the Feds—”

  “Doubtful. He’s selling you something he stole. He wants money, not to bring you down.”

  “He’s jerking me around and getting exactly what he wants.” O’Brien sounded sure, not angry. “At least that’s what he thinks.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “We’ll make my deal, not his. I will give him a couple of mill for the second artifact—no skin off my nose. Then I start another negotiation on the spot. His dear old mom for the third artifact. Call me back when the little shit agrees to my price and my meeting place.”

  Silence shouted down the line. Thomas found himself at the window of the bar, staring out at the sidewalk and into the avenue beyond. For fully a minute, he held the dead phone to his ear. He turned and rejoined the table.

  ***

  Robko watched the tall blond man in black, at ease, ambling back to the table.

  “I’ve found a way around your trust issues,” Thomas said.

  Sibyl slapped her hands on the table. “What did he say?”

  “Enough. Enough to get you to trust me.”

  She tossed her hair. “I can’t think of a thing you could say that would earn our trust.”

  Thomas turned to Robko. “I can—full disclosure on my side and betrayal of my boss. O’Brien agrees to pay. Not the full fifteen—rather two. The horrible wrinkle is that he has Mrs. Zlata and will squeeze the third Artifact out of you in return for her life. He says he will pay you for the second Artifact, but somehow I doubt it. If it hasn’t occurred to him yet, it will. He can take both Artifacts and pay nothing. He’ll instruct LeFarge to kill your mother, and you, and Ms. Boxwood here.”

  Robko sat still, as motionless as death.

  “As for me trusting you not to run, all that changed when your mother came into play.”

  Robko felt his head pound, his pulse like a hammer. He could hear his own voice, a long way away. “Do you know for sure he has my Ma?”

  “No, not positively. LeFarge is on his way to Chicago to transport her back. O’Brien believed she had already been taken, but he wasn’t certain.”

  Robko snatched out a vidi and called. After some time, he said, “No answer.”

  He dialed another number. The screen flicked on, and the interior of his mother’s bar opened out. A young woman with french-fried blonde hair crowded the screen, her nose growing ludicrously huge. “Mira’s Bar and Grill.”

  “Yeah, can I speak to Mrs. Zlata? This is her son, Robko.”

  “You’re the son? Funny, I thought you would look like a real devil. She’s not working tonight.”

  “Okay, gotta go.” He punched in a third set of numbers. A heavy woman wrapped in an apron answered, her hair coiled and pinned up on her head. He jammed the phone in his ear. “Ciotka Mircea, it’s your nephew Robko.—Yes, it’s been a while. Listen, my Ma may be in trouble. I’ve tried calling the apartment, but there’s no answer. Could you run across the street and up the stairs to check?—I’ll call her phone in a couple of minutes.—Okay, thank you.” He hung up. They all waited, quiet. In two minutes, he dialed again. “It’s Robko.—It was? Unlocked or kicked open?—That’s bad. It’s best if you call 911. Right away. And Ciotka, don’t say anything about me, okay?—Yes, I’ll call later, I promise.” He stared at Thomas. “He’s snatched her. Now what?”

  Fortune Turned

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Ephemeral Nature of Light

  Thomas sank into the overstuffed chair and disappeared into its depths. He picked at the piping that ran around the cushion, fingers busy, nervous. He had made the decision. Then others took over. Things began to accelerate towards a point of incandescence, or blackness.

  Suffolk County would have been a great summer holiday, but in November a cold wind blew off the water, and the locals had set, grim expressions. Through an open door into the next room, Thomas spied on Robko as he prepared gear and nestled it into a backpack. Angie perched at the desk in their room and called Garland on her iMob. Thomas watched the curve of her back, the bob of her head. He could pick out Garland’s voice only as a murmur.

  “Don, Angie Tommo here. I need a favor.—You know how you alerted me when LeFarge scrambled out to Ithaca?—We need the same again, a low risk thing. Could your people track his mobile for me today?—That’s right. We just want to avoid any more, hmm, criminal responses to our information gathering.—Well, I can tell you that every time LeFarge swings into action, Thomas, you, and I get more jail time piled up.—This is really important, Don. We’ve done some favors for you in the past.—You’ll do it?—Good. Your mobile has this number now. You can reach me day or night on it.”

  Satisfied she had persuaded Garland to do what she wanted, Thomas tuned out. Sibyl appeared in the open door carrying a first aid kit. “Only the standard stuff, Mr. Steward. Do you think we’ll need anything else?”

  “Call me Thomas. Anything worse, we’ll need an ambulance, not Band-Aids. Mrs. Zlata—the thing that occurs to me—she’ll need a change of clothes. If you could, ask Zlata what size his mother is and buy something for her to wear once we have her back here.”

  “Robert won’t know, but I’ve met her and can guess. Sweatsuit and underwear, I think. I’ll ask my phone to map me to the nearest department store.”

  He glanced at his iMob to check the time. “Be back by three—Robko and I leave for the marina then.”<
br />
  “Like we all don’t know the timetable. You’re both turds for leaving me behind.”

  He coughed into his hand to avoid the laugh. “I can live with that. Make sure you gas up the van while you’re out. If we leave in a hurry, we may not want to stop for a long time.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Boss Man, sir.”

  “And Sibyl….”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  Thomas knew he had to make the call, but he delayed, ran the possibilities through his mind. He knew it was a stall, just over-rehearsing. He gave a sigh and laughed at himself. He tapped his iMob and called O’Brien’s private vidi. The Governor was backlit by some huge windows—Thomas couldn’t really make out his face. “Hi, Thomas here. I just spoke to him. He’s unaware you have his mother, as far as I can tell. He agrees to the deal, and he agrees to the meeting place.”

  “Why? You didn’t think he’d go for it.”

  “I don’t know why. Perhaps the size of the payout has made him foolish.”

  “Any chance we can just grab him now?”

  Thomas shot a glance at Robko in the next room. “No, we don’t know where he is. We know he’s not too far though if he can be at your door on time. In-state, on his way into town?”

  The Governor’s head cocked over. It looked like a bowling ball in the half-light. “He goddamn better bring the Artifacts.”

  “I assume he won’t bring the third Artifact. We’ll have to send someone to retrieve it. It could be me, if you want.”

  “Naah. I’ll send Egan direct from here.”

  “Should I come out to the house?”

  “What, you and your scruples? Leave it to me and Egan.”

  Thomas tried on a smile, hoping it didn’t look too fake. “Has LeFarge arrived yet?”

  O’Brien leaned forward into the screen. “Why do you want to know? You his keeper?”

  “No, I don’t need to know where he is, just confirming loose ends. About ten in the morning you can expect Zlata at your front gate. Call if you need anything.”

  O’Brien disconnected.

  Angie caught Thomas before he could move. “Corporate reports LeFarge is back in New York, in Manhattan. Not Long Island.”

  “Where do you think they have Zlata’s mother?”

  “If Security had said Bed Stuy rather than Manhattan, I would think their warehouse or fire station. But Manhattan? That says to me LeFarge sent his guys on with Zlata’s mother and stopped off in town to do some business.”

  “Business? A few quick errands after a kidnap?” He couldn’t fault her logic, but logic could fail.

  “Think about it—they’ll want the old woman there at the meeting to apply visible pressure.”

  “All right, once we leave here, call me if LeFarge heads towards the estate.”

  “Set your phone to vibrate.”

  “Already is.”

  “Something else.” She jerked her head towards the other bedroom and dropped her voice. “Most of my cash and a card have disappeared. And I saw our Mr. Zlata hide a roll of bills in Sibyl’s handbag.”

  Thomas delivered a crooked grin. “Isn’t that sweet—he wants to make sure she’s provided for.”

  “Does this mean you can’t trust him?”

  “You think I trust him? Mention it to Sibyl; ask for your money back. Her reaction should be interesting.”

  Zlata popped through the door with a metal hoop in his hand, about the size of a medium pizza. “Okay, Thomas. Down on the carpet and rehearse. This is the pipe size you’ll crawl through. Next, we’ll review the house plans again.”

  ***

  Dreamlike, the Adirondack chair floated white, luminescing on the brown grass by the water, catching light from the setting sun. They could see it for the last ten minutes as Thomas rowed across the cove. As he snatched glimpses over his shoulder, it gave him some flickering memory from childhood, some recollection of a similar luminescence on an Illinois lake long ago. A good feeling washed up into him as he tugged at the oars. He gave himself over to the repetitive motion. Robko perched in the back. He was hunched over with his butt planted on a cold, hard thwart in a stolen boat, one with the improbable name “Bright Lily” painted on its stern. Thomas remembered lilies on his mother’s piano, remembered playing with toy soldiers under the black, comforting beast. Good omen.

  Thomas coasted the last ten feet, so the prow kissed the breakwater that marked the edge of the estate and held the sea at bay. He backpedaled on one oar, so the boat came ’round. Robko sprang up, carrying the painter, and lay behind the slight berm to hide. Thomas followed, and they tied the boat up to a stake they had also stolen.

  Robko said to Thomas, “Last chance. No need for you to risk it in there. You can wait for my return at the hotel… or your office.”

  Thomas thought, And you could take the money, and Sibyl, and your mother, and run again. He shook his head. “I’m going.”

  Robko splayed his hands out. “Seriously? You’re not ready for this.”

  “Look, you don’t know anything about boats. You needed me to get here. I need you to get me in.”

  Robko shrugged. “Easy for me… harder for you. You’re sure there are no dogs?”

  “No, the dogs would be a threat to the grandchildren.”

  He caught Robko’s grin in the dusk. The flash of his mink-like teeth shown out. “If you’re wrong—”

  “Trust me. It’s just the rent-a-cops and the security systems in the plans.”

  “And a six-pack of mercenaries and maybe LeFarge. Piece of cake. Time to move.”

  Robko led the way to the spear-topped wrought-iron fence and along its length. “Here, the drainage culvert. I’ll wriggle through first. I’ll drag the backpack behind me on a line. You slide in behind me on your back once I’m out the other side. Roll your shoulders back and forth like I taught you, and don’t get your hips stuck. You’ll bang your knees, but keep pushing with those big feet.”

  Thomas stared at the culvert end. “That’s got to be smaller than fifteen inches.” A lot smaller than he had expected.

  Robko fished cutters out of the bag and held them up. “For the screen on the other end. What you really mean, Thomas, is a fifteen-inch pipe in the dusk shows up as smaller than the hoop you messed with in a brightly lit room. Don’t worry; they’ll jerk you out if you get stuck—and kill you.” He lay on his stomach, extended the bolt cutters in front of him, and wiggled into the pipe like an eel.

  With a heavy sigh, Thomas lay on his back and gatored into the pipe. A fetid smell surrounded him. He did bang his knees. A lot. In the middle, his shoulders and neck getting gritty with mud, he lost it. He slammed his head into the top of the pipe trying to sit up. He thrashed with his hands. His breath was a hoarse voice of panic. But then, he thought of the little man gone on ahead, getting his mother, running again while Thomas died in the pipe. The bastard.

  At the other end, Robko hauled him out and pushed him into a bank of tall-growing currants. “See, wasn’t so bad. Shuck out of those coveralls. They’re covered in muck.”

  “Not so bad for you. You’re a small guy. I have your promise we don’t escape out the same way?”

  “No promises. Now stuff both sets of coveralls back in the pipe.” Robko pulled on night vision goggles and held out a pair for Thomas. “Still a lot of ambient light, but it will turn dark quick. I want to approach the house while daylight cameras are blind, before Security switches to infrared.” In the dusk, the goggles made a glimmering curve across the top of his face. “Now, stick this bluetooth in your ear. I’ll call your vidi.”

  They left the currant bushes and scrambled along the grass on their hands and knees to the terrace. Thomas heard the whisper in his ear. “The plans say they have proximity detectors every ten feet. We can make a path through them. Help me spot the first one.”

  “There. Two feet in front of you. It’s a small black plastic cap at tile level.”

  “Gotcha,” Robko whispered. “We’ll avoi
d the house corners—floodlights on motion detectors. Place your feet where I do, and walk soft.” They moved in a zigzag back and forth across the terrace. As they gained the house, Robko moved along the wall. “Not the doors or the regular windows. I want the sauna window. Saunas are hostile environments for alarms—all the heat and moisture. They always turn off spa sensors, inside and out.”

  “Sure, like you said. But why do you have to tell me all this again?”

  “I want you focused on me and the job, not your fear. Here we are.” He chinned himself up to the high small window. “Yeah, as I expected. I need up on your shoulders, so squat down and take me onboard.”

  Thomas grunted with the weight. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”

  “Climbed up to the brick cornicing and hung upside down.” Robko had small tools in his hand. “Okay, they may be turned off, but let’s shunt them out anyway. First the latch.” He inserted a putty knife and with a twist, opened the lock. “Taping the contacts now. Good thing I’m a pro.”

  “You’re a heavy pro.”

  “You’re out of shape.” Robko lurched up off of Thomas’s shoulders and slithered into the small window. His voice, quiet and amused, echoed back through the dark rectangle. “Your turn.”

  Thomas strained himself up to the sill. He grunted and scrabbled with his toe tips and found himself on a face-first slide into the sauna. He puddled up on a bench as he landed. “How long do we have to wait here?”

  “A long time. Until the house quiets down. Dusk helped sneak us in, but it’s still early evening. We can wash the mud from the pipe off first and then settle down for a nap.”

  Thomas could feel muscles in his shoulders and even in his back twitch. Keyed up, hell, on fire. He couldn’t make it through hours like this—he popped a yellow sleeper into his mouth.

  Robko said in a whisper, “Don’t you just love this stuff? I love a rack.”

  “Really? I’m so jittery I could puke.” All of this just to keep an eye on the thief, to make sure it didn’t all go wrong.