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Carson immediately had a sense for why Mia liked Max Highland.  From the moment Carson approached the meeting spot, Highland had a gun ready to draw and fire, just in case.

It was a meeting in a public place, and Highland sat at a table, gun laying on its side on his knee, out of sight… but his posture gave it away.  Hand close, leg not moving much.  He would shoot, too.  There was a reason he’d needed Mia’s help to disappear in the first place.  He’d shot nine or ten years ago.

One of the others sat deeper in the same booth as Highland, head down, hat pulled forward.  Moses Murtha.

Carson, striding forward, threw up his hands, halfway between a ‘don’t shoot me’ and an offer to hug an old friend.  He flashed a smile.

Which worked.  The ex-soldier didn’t want attention drawn to himself, so the flashiness of it was as disarming as the smile was.

He walked past a woman, sitting at a table closer to the door, a little drab, makeup not done.  Stiff.  Like a smaller version of Mia.  Sheila Hardy.  His phone buzzed, he checked it.

4506-103
2nd table from door
she is your 4th

He reversed course, then, so as not to make Sheila jump, cleared his throat, seating himself at an adjacent table.

It was being disarming in a different way.  The sort of way he’d had to use with a young Ripley, back when he’d met Mia.  Bringing himself down to someone else’s level, being keenly aware of what movements looked threatening.  Moving to a sitting position was a good way, because it was very hard to go from sitting against a wall to an aggressive lunge.

In this case, an awkward chair sit, hands kept in view.

She seemed bewildered for a second.

“This works better if we’re all at the same booth,” he said, casually.  Gently.

“Oh.  I know, I-”

She stopped herself.

“Second thoughts?” he guessed.

“Not like that.”

“Come on,” he told her.  “I’ve done this before.  It’s scary, but she makes it all easy.  Our mutual friend.  Or did you go through the contact, with our mutual friend silent through the whole process?”

“We talked.  Had a conversation, even, on the phone.”

He knew that, but with the reminder, and with the reassurance, he was tipping her the way they wanted her to go.

“It will be easier than you’re imagining.  A conversation about old times.”

“You know who I am?”

“Not much,” he lied.  “From what I did hear, it sounded more like you had relevant information, informing plans, as opposed to you being the type to execute them.”

“I guess.  Are you an execution type?”

Wrong word.  It changed the tone of things.

She wasn’t flinching though.

“Yes,” he responded to that lack of flinching.  “Come on.  You came this far.”

She came with, getting up from the table.  He kept his posture and position so that he wasn’t a threat to her.  A few paces ahead, hands touching chair backs and tables as he wound his way through the setup in the mostly empty roadhouse burger place.

He let her sit, then pulled up a chair, sitting outside the booth, careful to leave her an escape route.

“Show me that phone?” Highland asked.

Carson put the phone on the table, spinning it.  Highland reached over and stopped it, looking at the message that was still on screen.  He slid it back to Carson.

Before it reached Carson’s hand, there was a new message on the screen.

“As we discussed,” it says.  “I’ve heard from our friend.  We talked over the shape of this plan, I’m meant to convey this to you.”

“You’ve done this before,” Highland said.  “Cleaning up messes?”

“On this level?  No,” he said, honestly.  “This is the first mess of this type I’m aware of.  In the past, I’ve been an errand boy when our friend needed an errand run.”

He wondered if Highland’s pride was pricked.  If Mia had been asked to make a custom order for a right hand man, Carson was pretty sure she would have asked for someone very much like this.  Unerring, reliable, followed orders, paranoid.

But someone like him wouldn’t necessarily have gotten Gio out of that gas station, past the noses of Davie Cavalcanti’s people.  Not without bloodshed and alarms being run.

“How did you reach that sort of arrangement?” Highland asked.

“Are you looking to take my job?” Carson asked, with a smile.  He reached across the table to get a little menu from behind the napkin dispenser, then absently looked at his reflection in the dispenser before setting it back down with care.  Then he lied, “I didn’t have the money.  So I’m working it off.”

“You can do that, huh?” Moses asked.  He was trying to hide in his clothes.

“I guess we’ll see.  Still working it off.”

“Wait staff,” Highland said, voice soft.

“I know,” Carson replied.  “Blonde.”

Highland frowned slightly, eyebrows drawing together.  Then he looked down at the napkin dispenser.  Carson could see the man connecting the line between Carson and the reflective surface and the waitress.

“And what can we get for you people today?  Drinks to start?” the waitress asked.

“What do you have that’s non-alcoholic?” Carson asked.  He made momentary eye contact with Highland.

“We have juice, mango, peach, blueberry, made in-house.  Soda, the Brad’s lineup of sodas, coffee, tea…”

“Mango juice.  Please.  Thank you.”

“Carbonated?”

“Sure.  That’d be great.”

“Cola,” Highland said.  “No ice.”

“Beer?” Moses asked.  “What do you have on tap?”

Highland and Carson both turned to face him in the same second, confrontational, with Carson fixing him with a disapproving look, setting chin on hand.

“Not funny,” Highland murmured.

“What?” Moses asked.

“Coffee,” Sheila interrupted the exchange.  “Black.”

“Cola,” Moses said, belatedly.

“Will be right with you.”

The waitress strode off.

“Did a message I was supposed to get not come through?” Moses asked.  “What’s this?”

“Look at our group,” Carson said.  “We’ve got someone who doesn’t want to be here, face hidden behind hat and sunglasses.  A woman in sweats with no makeup, maybe even unflattering makeup, who, consequently, looks a bit like she’s dying.  On purpose, I assume.”

“Yeah.  I wasn’t sure what else to do,” Sheila said.  “I tried to be as different from my normal self as I could.”

“And someone a bit stiff, rigid.”

“Am I?” Highland asked.

“In the way ex-soldiers can be.  I’m guessing, there.  And me, at the head of the table.  More relaxed, disarming, a bit in charge.  Not a lot.  But a bit.  Putting in the first order.  The wait staff are people who are, consciously or unconsciously, reading people all day.  What the heck are they going to make of us?  So I gave an answer.  Our ex-soldier here picked up on it.”

“Sobriety group gathering for a bite after a meeting,” Sheila said.

Carson winked at her.

“Whatever,” Moses said.

“Okay,” Highland said, and it felt like an answer to something bigger.  Like he’d accepted this.

With that, and the napkin dispenser trick, Highland had gone from seeing Carson as someone redundant -what did Mia need from Carson that Highland couldn’t provide- to someone who brought something to the table.  It also reassured Sheila.

It had pushed Moses back a bit, but that could be fixed later if Carson needed to.

“It also means the staff might give us a bit of privacy.  So.  Nobody in earshot?  Let’s talk about the Cavalcantis.”

“Fuck,” Highland muttered.

Moses didn’t look happy either.  Only Sheila seemed to know already.  Mia would’ve had to bring it up.  Sheila wasn’t hurting for money.

“The Kitchen.  Crazy Kitchen, back in your day, friend,” Carson addressed Moses.  “Crazy Cousins.”

Moses, already slumped back head down, settled further back into the bench, like he wanted to press himself in deeper, immovable, unhappy.

“Let’s lay it out.  No specifics.  You were there on the ground when things were bad.  The young lady sitting to my right was in the know, on a different level.  Not in the Kitchen, but close enough to see through the Kitchen window?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, you could say that.”

“Mistress?” Moses asked.

Sheila paused.  “Let’s go with that.  To someone not in the Kitchen, like he said.”

“Our mutual friend painted you as the brains of that operation.”

“That’s flattering, I’m- I guess.  Yes.”

Sheila Hardy had not been a mistress.  She was the daughter of Dell Olsen, one of the smaller groups that had been doing very well for itself, importing cocaine and distributing it to a market that wasn’t being enforced in the slightest.  Though she wore sweatpants and had left her hair barely combed now, she’d been a person of status, raised to play a significant part in the ongoing running of the family business.  Apparently, in her new identity, she regularly maintained a different kind of status.  Lower-profile, but she didn’t work and didn’t skimp on the expensive clothes.

When everything had gone to hell and the Kitchen had looked to take over the market, her father had bought her a ticket out.

“And the man sitting across from me, hat pulled down.  Without specifying exact role, history, or details, your group was folded into the kitchen.  You were trusted.  By the time you left, you were driving people places, you heard conversations.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you got out.  With prejudice.”

“Yeah.”

The Kitchen had grown fast and that kind of growth was hard to sustain, calling for manpower.  Moses had played the part of someone loyal while holding back some grudges, working with a few others, all planning to wait until he could put a bullet in someone key.  The idea had been that Moses would drive them out, and the others would do the deed.  Something had gone wrong, the others had been more distrusted than they’d thought and were noticed going somewhere armed.  The situation had been dire enough that Moses had made the call to report them, knowing they were probably doomed anyway, to save himself from being implicated.  He’d been asked to put bullets in the four.  They hadn’t spoken against him or revealed his role in things even when Moses had walked down the line of kneeling men, putting bullets in each.

Then, a year later, he’d left with a lot of money he shouldn’t have, an amount that would have stung.  His heart had no longer been in things.  The contact hadn’t yet been a part of the ecosystem around the Kitchen, so he’d helped Moses disappear.

Had he tried today, the outcome would have been much different.  Davie struck Carson as the type to chase down money like that.  Or betrayals.  But it had been a tumultuous time for the gang, Moses had escaped by the skin of his teeth and Mia’s very good work, and they’d forgotten about him.  Maybe they kept an eye out for his face.  But he’d been fine, working in the city, at a mid level job.  His stolen money had run out in the meantime.  According to Mia, he had never been raised to be savvy with cash, so he’d bled funds over time.

“And you?” Moses asked.

Pride was key for a man like that.  It had already been taken down a notch by the sobriety group ruse, Moses being slowest on the uptake.

“When I was talking to her a bit ago,” he indicated the woman on his right.  “I drew the line between those giving information and those using that information to execute something bigger.  I get things done.  Most of the time, I do a lot of little things very well.  But one thing I do well is get into places I shouldn’t be.  And not like you’re thinking.”

“Not a burglar, then?”

“I’ve burgled.  Like I said, I’m very good at a lot of little things.  But no.  The place I really shouldn’t be is close enough to the Cavalcantis to hurt them.  I don’t think anyone here objects to that idea?  Hurting them?”

Nobody did.

“I meant what did you do before?  To meet our ‘friend’?”

“I got stupid.  I pushed my luck too far.  I think I wanted to.  Or needed to.  But I was in the good graces of our departed friend, and I was offered a rare deal.  I like having purpose.”

Mostly a lie, except the purpose part.

“Alright.  Then that leaves him.”

“I execute,” Highland said.  “Anything I told you about my past might reveal who I was and am.”

Proud in a different way.  Moses was gangster proud, where life broke down into hierarchies.  Self-effacing about weaknesses played better there, because Carson putting himself lower and framing his priorities as someone who was handed purpose from above meant Moses was higher as a result.

The ex-soldier was more about prowess.  He didn’t like focusing on weaknesses and failures, and not because of some invisible ranking system.

Carson leaned sideways out of the way, while the waitress set the drinks down.  “Thank you.”

“Of course.  Are you guys ready to order?”

They were.

The phone buzzed with a new text, as soon as the waitress had her back turned.

Carson read it, then placed it on the table.  For the benefit of those who weren’t in a position to read it right away, he said, “On behalf of our departed acquaintance, in the interest of hurting the Cavalcantis… can you tell us about your peers?”

He looked at Sheila.

“My peers?”

“The young men and ladies of the underworld.  Were you completely in the dark, or-?”

“No.  Some, I knew of.  But my father wanted me to know something about who would be around, who to stay away from, who to ingratiate myself to.  Mostly it was a certain circle.  We went to the same schools.”

“Including the Cavalcanti family?”

“Very much the Cavalcanti family.  They were the threat.  Past tense only because they saw through those threats, and run half the Kitchen.”

“And, I assume, you drove some of them around?” he asked Moses.  “Members of that family?”

“Yeah.  Bodyguard work, I guess?”

“What clubs did they like?”

⯁

The world always seemed a bit like a joke.  The more he got to grips with it, it resembled an old wild west movie, where the building faces had nothing behind them.  School, law, social groups, security.

Mia said ninety percent of people were idiots.

Carson felt like ninety percent of the rules were bendable enough to be ignored.

He danced.  Getting into the club had been as easy as attaching himself to three of the more attractive young women in line, winning them over before they reached the door.  When the bouncer had wanted to let them in but turn Carson away, he’d suggested they go somewhere else.  They’d been willing.

The bouncer had decided it was better to let the three of them in than have the three women leave.

He’d danced with them for a while, taking his time to figure out vibes, scout the place.  Cavalcanti run.  The upstairs area was the place to be, where the celebrities of the city went and treated women to a night of free drinks.  But the back, apparently, was where business was done.

The camera system was already compromised.

The problem before them was that Davie Cavalcanti was sharp.  He was indecipherable, they couldn’t work out his plan in full, he had an army around him, and he was constantly taking steps to secure himself, whether it was getting eyes everywhere or gathering weapons.

So they couldn’t go for him.  Not directly.

In their fishing expedition, it had come down to figuring out who in Davie’s orbit was operating that way, then looking at the work they did, and how it might make Davie vulnerable.

Along similar notes, for someone who hacked facilities, the weakest link was not a vulnerability in the code or a piece of hardware- it was the most incompetent person.  In the Cavalcanti family, among the members with any power in the Kitchen, that was the youngest brother, Andre.  He was in his late twenties, now.  Mia had known what businesses he was running and through which proxies by the time they’d talked to Sheila in the burger place.  Sketching everything out, by channels open to the public, landmine free.

Sheila had fleshed out the details.  He’d been a couple years younger than her when she’d been in high school.  His eagerness to prove himself made him push himself a bit beyond his limits, apparently.  He’d been given various Kitchen-operated businesses to run, and when he succeeded, he got more.

That had been eight years ago.  He’d found his niche, settled into it, and was still ambitious.

“Would you say he’s so focused on what comes next, he’s not growing and safeguarding his current business?”

“I wouldn’t.  I don’t want to give you bad information, and he’s the brother I know the least about.  He was still in school when I left.  But if you said it, I’d believe you.  It fits.”

As a consequence of his focus on what came next, finding an equilibrium with each project he was handled, getting reliable people into positions and the keeping it all going, he hadn’t taken the step back to reconsider the details.  To Mia, that would make him one of the ninety percent.  The security system was bare bones.  His security was thin, here, in terms of manpower.

“He’s going wider than tall.  More businesses, not… deeper into the game.  Why?”

“It could be the time he fucked up.”

“Fucked up how?”

“Drunk driving.  Back in high school.  Someone got injured, nothing super major, but I gathered it was big medical bills, insurance got into it, they were going to have physio for the rest of their life or something.  That was what I picked up on, anyway.  I’m remembering things from ages ago, here.”

“It’s good.  What else?”

“It got hushed up but obviously the school rumor mill was on top of it.  Even to other schools.  He didn’t do a great job with how he handled things while talking to police, or handling the other family.  Made things harder.”

“So there’s hard feelings now.  He’s not trusted.  Long slow road to earn his way back in?”

“More like he might not be trusted to handle anything legally questionable for another decade or two.  My papa, when he was asking me to study up on this sort of thing, talked about Andre like he was written off already.  I’d bet money he’s running the businesses but the money laundering part is being handled by someone who answers to Davie, or the oldest.  If my papa wrote him off that easily, I’m sure the Cavalcantis did too.”

Andre didn’t have a small army like Davie did.  He did have some people who worked under him.  But in the course of straining to build himself tall, he’d gone wider and wider, instead.  Stretching too thin, even.

Being a Cavalcanti-run establishment, according to Moses, this was where they’d dropped off the younger members of the family, a lot of the time.  They got perks, access everywhere, including upstairs, which put them near celebrities and let them feel important.  To the families, they were safer here than elsewhere.

From there, it was a question of patience.  Which wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.  The pressure was high, and Davie could be trying to zero in on a weakness of theirs, as they were trying to do something similar to him.

The whole Davie situation had unfolded Monday.  Last night had been dead, comparatively, and Thursday night had looked to be similar.  Which was fine, but they’d have to change things up a bit if it hit Friday and things weren’t moving.

They’d gotten lucky- but it was a controlled sort of luck, helped by information from Sheila, who said the kids would usually go out to socialize, every few nights.  This was a regular spot, to the point of being default, if they didn’t have somewhere they really wanted to go.  The daughter of Nicholas Cavalcanti, the oldest brother, was in attendance.  So were some of her cousins, members of the less prominent members of the family.  Some sons, but mostly daughters.

On another night, in different circumstances, in his old life, Carson would have tried to get upstairs.  A challenge to himself for the evening, to get inside, then to get upstairs.  Then to see what he could do.  What people worked, what angles?

Tonight, he waited.

“What about friends?  Friend group?”

“Cousins,” Moses said.

“What?”

Sheila explained, “It’s hard to make trusted friends, sometimes, in these circles.  You can.  But the family will be cautious.  There are limits to what you can say to them, where you can go.  It gets frustrating.  Cousins are safe.  They know.  Your family are your friends.”

It was better if they came to him, instead of the other way around.

Eye contact, posture.  He timed it as necessary to keep her interested.  All the while, messages came in from Mia.  Some texts, but mostly, she controlled the music.  She’d gotten into the wireless early Thursday, long before they’d come here, which meant she was in the cameras, computers.  The lights were randomized, but if someone was looking for it, they’d notice when the music and lighting changed at the same time.

A song with water in the title.  The dance floor went dark, lit only enough so that the material of certain short dresses, glitter in makeup, and metallic flakes all shone on the surface of skin, everything else mere suggestions of body shapes, dark purple against black.

He made himself scarce.  Not running or hiding, but playing it cautious, pulling back.

The code there was the same as the code they used for the playlist, which was similar to the library code.  Certain songs with certain topics meant certain things.

It did limit things to a rhythm as long as the songs, sometimes multiple songs in a row.  But that was fine.  They were pacing things out this evening.

Two songs played before he got the ‘go’ again.  He had to check the song title on his phone, because he wasn’t familiar with it.  A bit of an oversight.

In moments like this, or in getting him to Gio in the gas station, she elevated him.  Made him feel like a superspy.  Someone with a handler.  Already good at navigating situations, she took that to the next level, letting him thread the random cars on roads.

Or figure out how to draw the attention the niece of a mob boss at the right time.  How to step back, so the plan wouldn’t fall to pieces in other circumstances.

A song with honey in the title.  The lights flashed red.

Highland was set.  Moses would be out there.

Why was it the right time?  What had happened?  He didn’t entirely know.  But he trusted her.

Another ‘go’, not that long after the last one.

He made like he was approaching her, a light smile on his face, eye contact steady, then turned sideways, asking for a water.

The oldest of the cousins approached him.  Late twenties.  While Nicole was regularly checking in and making sure everyone was happy and that nobody wanted upstairs, this girl was the one keeping things in order, keeping things from getting unhappy.

She asked for a glass of water too.

“You’re not brave enough to approach me?” she asked, leaning close to his ear.  Grazing his arm with her chest, and not by accident.

“Definitely not brave enough,” he replied, tilting his head.  “You’re intimidating.”

“Ha.”

“Like a lioness.”

“How am I like a lioness?”

“People don’t give lionesses enough credit.  Lions with their big manes get to be kings of the jungle.  But lionesses rule.  You’re taking really good care of all those kids.”

“I try.”

“And you’re athletic.  Powerful.  Can I touch your arm?”

She nodded.

“See?  That’s earned,” he said, touching muscle.  “Swimming?”

“Volleyball.”

He clicked his tongue.  “Fuck.  Thought I had it.”

He gave the ‘fuck’ a bit of extra texture, and a moment of eye contact.

“Do you play?”

“Yeah, I play.  But I play everything.”

“Oh, you’re that type?”

Was it hard to hook someone in from across a bar, and establish a rapport?  Eyefuck them a little, then take them home that night?  No.

But there were any number of things that could pull them away, especially in a group like this.  Mia would be watching for that.  Or controlling for it.  Signaling him.

A song came on, a leading single a band with ‘dragons’ in the name.  The lights turned gold.  There were some boos from the crowd.

Had they been forced to try to do this Friday, there would have been a DJ, which would have required another system for signaling.  On a weeknight, keeping costs down, but staying open for business, especially at the back, it was a set playlist, and computer maintained lights.

This song being on would probably draw attention.  It might be written off as a prank.  Thrown on there by a stupid, young employee.  Or Mia might do something about it.

It might be overshadowed by other events.

Still, he trusted Mia.

The song killed the vibe, the lights were too bright, and apparently the other girls were talking about wanting to leave.

“Come back to my place,” she whispered in his ear.

He nodded, putting an arm around her.  She leaned into him.

“How often are they using you, how often are they using an app to call a ride?”

“Why do that when you can call family?  Plenty of guys like me, on call to be bodyguards, chauffeurs, drive product.”

“So they’d call family for another car?”

Some of the guys who’d come had girls with them, and vice versa.  Two girls were hanging off one another, but it was hard to tell if they were together and tipsy or only drunk.

“We should have called another car earlier,” a guy said.

“They were busy.”

Carson kept his date’s attention, while things played out as they naturally would.  He wondered if Mia was looking, carefully calculating how this might play out.  If she knew addresses, routes, who was how important in the family.

The friends who’d come had gone to the same high school as the other girls.  Most or all had graduated, but friendship ties remained.  Friends of higher standing, or acquaintances.  One daughter might be a daughter of the family lawyer.

The girls climbed into the car, minus a few who might’ve been siblings of the boys who hung back.

Carson was invited in.  It was a tangle of bodies, wedging themselves into even the spacious back of the Midas.  The smell of perfumes, sweat, and alcohol quickly filled the space.  His eyes stung with it.

“Drop us off at my place first?” the girl that was nearly in Carson’s lap said.

He leaned into the corner between seat and door, ankles crossed to minimize the footroom he was taking up, making her as comfortable as possible.  She leaned into him.

“You know where I live, right?”

There was no answer from the driver.

The attitude shifted.  Some didn’t pick up on it right away, but people sat up straighter, looking at one another.

Someone checked their phone, and looked alarmed, showing the girl and the girl’s date, next to her.

No service, Carson knew.

He stopped hugging the oldest cousin so tight, shifting his position too.  He made sure to look as spooked as the rest of them.

“Don’t panic, let’s do this smart,” Nicole said, quiet.  She reached for her handbag, and pulled out a gun.  Small.

“Is that a gun?” Carson asked.

“Shhh!  Jesus.”

It was why he was here.

There was a bump.  The vehicle went up a ramp, and straight into the back of a storage container.

Everything outside the vehicle went dark as the headlights were turned off.  The lights inside the vehicle turned off too.  People shrieked.  A car door slammed.

Nicole, armed, started to move, like she wanted to aim and shoot at the passing shadow outside the car- but it was too slow, and she didn’t want to show her hand, maybe.

The windows might have been bulletproof too.  Moses hadn’t known which cars were.

Cell phones still lacked service, but people used them for light.  The periodic flashes as a phone on flashlight mode caught Carson in the eyes made him squint.

The back was closed up, and they were taken away.  Nearly thirty minutes of driving.

It would be a little while before the alarm was sounded.  Longer before people were specifically looking for this truck with a storage container at the back.

Before then, they reached the city outskirts.  The vehicle stopped.

“Carla Trentino.  Out.  You’re going home.”

“They might be lying,” Nicole whispered.

“Or they’re telling the truth.  They can’t possibly want all of us.”

“Go, see if you can tell people what happened.  In as much detail as possible,” another girl said.

“Carla Trentino.”

“What if we don’t go?”

“Carla Trentino.  Third call, if you’re still in the car when we reach our destination, and you didn’t take your chance to get out, we’re knocking everyone out and leaving you in the mountains to hike back.  Your only control in this situation is whether you hike back two miles or fifteen.”

Carla hesitated, then got out.

“Phone.”

There was a pause.

“Here you go.  Have a good evening, Carla.”

“Fuck you.  What are you doing to my friends?”

“Have a good evening.”

So it went.

A few minutes of driving.  A name called.

Carson was there until near the very end.

“Anyone whose name I haven’t called?”

“Me,” Carson said.  One of the other guys who’d been brought on as a date called out too, saying, “Here!  Luis!”

“The one who said ‘me’.”

“Don’t leave us,” the older cousin said.

“Sorry it didn’t work out,” he told her.

Then he exited.

“Phone?”

Carson handed it to Highland, who slammed the door and locked it.

Leaning in closer, Highland whispered, “And?”

“They’re scared.  Nicole has a gun.”

“We heard, yeah.  Annoying.  But we can knock them out at the end.  Can you confirm the third girl is Addi Arcuri?  We weren’t sure, with the hair and makeup.  Details didn’t line up.”

“Yeah.  Hair extensions.”

“Okay.  Come on.”

They closed up the back.  Carson climbed into the passenger seat of the truck, where a laptop sat, plugged into the center console.  He moved the laptop to his lap, and watched through the camera, noting the four people at the back.  Nicole was keeping the gun out of sight.

“Can they hear?”

“Moses climbed in and tried it, after I dealt with the drivers.  I could make out some.  Not while we’re whispering, not while the door’s closed.  They can’t hear us at the front, here.”

“Let’s drop some details next time?  I’ll shift my voice, accent?”

“Okay.”

“You know the three girls in the back right now, the kind of ransom they’d command?” Carson asked.

Highland did not look impressed.

“I’m not saying we should do anything about it.  But the scale of what we’ve pulled.”

“I’m more worried than anything,” Highland said.  “Let’s get this done.  One more to get rid of, then we go.”

Carson watched the video for a bit, as the truck resumed motion.  He could study expressions, see the frustration and fear.  One of the girls, Addi, was crying.  The cousin Carson had lured in was consoling her.  Nicole was all business.

We’re doing you a favor, in a way.

⯁

Mia was in her office, computers around her.  She looked up at him.

“You should wash off, change.  If the kids see you…”

“I can explain it away,” he said, posing against the doorframe.  He was still dressed for the club.  “Did you watch my dancing?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you jealous?  Or with the flirting?  It was for the sake of the job.”

“I know.  I don’t get jealous,” she said.  With the lights dim, most of the illumination against her face came from the screens.

“Sad?” he asked.  He walked around the desk, and put his arms around her shoulders.

On the screens, Addi Arcuri, Nicole Cavalcanti, and Sara Barese, Nicole’s cousin, were each on two different cameras, each taking up a quarter of a screen.  Other sections were devoted to other things, other feeds.  Looking to see what the response was.

Each of the girls was in a cell.  The same sort they used for keeping custody of people for clients.

Refitted in this case, though.  Mia had been up all night, working with someone else she’d called in, from among her past clients.  She’d been a zombie at work.

“No, not especially sad either,” she said.

She still looked tired.

“You know,” he said, leaning over her shoulder to better see her face.  “The moments I was happiest, most thrilled, was when you were sending me signals.  Because those were the moments you were with me.”

She didn’t look like she believed him.

Part of the initial appeal of Mia had been like the upper floor in the club.  Could he challenge himself to access that exclusive space, with charm and careful attention to the people and angles he needed to exploit to get there?

Could he get past this woman’s paranoia, hard exterior, doubts, and reach her?

Maybe that was true.

But like a drug addict would invent reasons for why it was very reasonable to take the next hit, even after years of sobriety, he suspected that rationalization came from something else.

It wasn’t the ‘hit’ of getting to play at being a super spy, either.  Getting to operate at his best level and then some, a personality quirk feeling like a superpower, when everything worked out, because she was controlling for details and watching his back behind the scenes.

It was a need.

“I got a message,” she said.  “Coded, from the contact.  But not exactly right.”

“Davie?  Playing at being the contact?”

“Yeah.  I think we should do the job anyway.”

He exhaled heavily through his nose, shifted position, and then buried his nose and mouth against the point her neck met her shoulder.  So stiff.

Taking in a breath, he could smell her soap and shampoo.

“Okay.”

“You’re not going to argue it?”  she asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t know.”

“I trust you.  But it sounds insane.”

“Let’s do the job if we can keep our distance.  They’re going to come at us hard.  Suspicious.  I’ve handled the security feeds for the club, we collected phones from each of the girls, we scrubbed from phone and cloud while we were at it.  All they have of you is witness description.  By the time to think to look at you, you won’t be fresh in anyone’s mind.”

“And no reason to think I’m suspect.”

“Minimal reason.  They might wonder if they can’t find you when they go looking.  Working for the contact, even if it’s not really the contact, keeps us busy.  If we’re busy, that’s an alibi of sorts.”

“Okay.  Let’s try, then.  One thing?”

“Please.  Tear my ideas to shreds.”

“I think you’re missing the forest for the trees.  They’re going to look at the big picture.  Not the details.”

“Okay,” she said.  “Hm.”

“There’s a plan, right?” he asked.

“There’s also a child of ours walking down the hallway right now, and you’re covered in other people’s body glitter.”

He chuckled lightly.  Then he stepped through to the adjacent bathroom, out of sight.  He glanced through the crack between open door and doorframe.

Valentina.

“Can I see?”

“See what?”

“What you’re doing.  I already saw some, a few days ago.  I know you were gone all night, last night.  Carson was gone tonight.  You were busy, had me babysitting.”

“The best thing you can do is… pay less attention to all that.  Be forgetful about our schedules.  Focus on homework and other things.”

“Mia,” Carson said, as he washed his face.  “Let her.  The idea was always that the door would be open for the kids to get involved, right?  If Ripley was this age…?”

Mia frowned.

But she might’ve gestured, because Valentina approached and Mia didn’t say or do anything about it.

“Oh my god.  Nicole?  And is that Addi?”

“They’re fine.  We’re doing them a favor,” he told Valentina.

“A favor?”

“The moves your father was making.  They say a thief dreads another thief more than anyone.  The thing that makes the most sense to us is that he wanted his family out of the way of reprisals.  He was building up forces in anticipation of a coup.  The rest of the family is… not focused on covering weaknesses.  They’re not paying attention.  not at home.  Andre Cavalcanti let security slide in a bad way.  They feel safe.  So the question is… why is your father scared?” Mia asked.  “Why reach out to us for an escape route?”

“Because I saw something?”

“Maybe.  That might have accelerated his timetable, or made him want to get family out of the way while he’s doing things that might upset you all.,” Carson said.

Mia explained, “We’re pretty sure he is or was going to pull something.  So our plan is his theoretical plan.  But doing it badly.  We anticipate what he wants to do, or the moves he might have wanted to make and dismissed, and we do that beforehand.  Leaving trails that can go back to him.  If we make correct guesses, trails will connect in a way that seals his fate.  This is the first move we made.  Besides rescuing you.”

“Your uncle Nicholas’ daughter, kidnapped under the supervision of your uncle Andre, family lawyer’s daughter.  Daughter of one cousin Davie doesn’t get along with, too,” Carson said.  “Davie’s own daughter gone under stranger circumstances, with a big show happening over it, the timing all wrong.”

“You think it’ll seem suspicious?”

“It’ll get people thinking about what’s happening inside the family, instead of outside,” Carson said.

Valentina nodded.

“Well, they’re not your uncles or cousins anymore,” Mia said.

“Uh huh?” Valentina made a quizzical sound.  She rubbed the sleep out of one eye with the heel of a hand.  “Um.  What can I do?”

“I said it before, forget details.  Trust us,” Mia said.

“If you can tell us anything about the family, who’s who, what to expect, it would round out details we got from elsewhere,” Carson said.

“Yeah.  Okay.  I want to stop him.  I’ll think.”

Carson reassured her, “those three are out of the line of fire.  And fire should start being exchanged- nobody’s going to be happy.  This is impossible to ignore, people will be looking for answers.”

“Looking at us for those answers,” Mia said.  “Which is why we take the job, grit our teeth, prove ourselves.  I’ll find someone to look after those three and that situation.  Then we use signals and codes to organize with the people we’re bringing on to help, while doing the work for him.  Same way we snuck Valentina out while doing business as usual, but easier, since we’ll have done more to prepare.”

“Um, two things,” Valentina said.  “First off… can we leave Addi where she is?  She’s kind of the biggest cunt in the universe.”

“No,” Mia said.  “It’s important they’re found on a property Davie owns, at the end.  Safe and sound, ideally.”

“Gotta organize that,” Carson said, quiet.

“Working on it.”

“Can I… do that, then?” Valentina asked.  “Not the property thing.  But taking care of them.  So you don’t have to hire someone.  That’s the second thing I wanted to ask.”

Mia looked at Carson.  He nodded.

“Maybe,” Mia said.

“There’d be rules.  You have to treat Addi fairly, anything else raises questions.  Can’t speak to them, no matter what.  Feed them, answer emergencies,” Carson explained.

“This is a lot of trust to be extending,” Mia said.

She sounded worried.

“Do you want to veto?” he asked her.  “I trust your instincts.  But I also think our new daughter is bored and that’s dangerous.  And we do need someone in place there.  You’re already calling her family.  She already knows enough to blow everything up in a bad way.”

“I’m not going to blow everything up in a bad- I’m not.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, Valentina,” Mia said.  “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours and I’ll be busy later.  I know you haven’t slept well either.  But Carson’s convincing me.  Maybe.”

“Okay.”

“Carson.  Wash up?  Come to bed.”

He grinned.

“Not like that.  Not tonight.  I’m tired enough.”

“Still smiling.  Love coming to bed to find you there.  Missed you last night.”

Would she smile one day when he said something like that?  He was okay with it if not.

He stripped down, then showered, glad for the cold water after the humid, smoke-touched heat of the trip back – a bit of a walk from the drop-off site to the car they’d stowed.

He was someone who could go anywhere.  Find a place in any group, whether it was college do-nothings, gangsters, or celebrities hanging out.  Maybe some of it was natural talent, some of it genetic good looks and a face that made him easier to trust.  Some of it practiced.

But there was a downside, he’d found.  Skirting the rules with school had meant his grades had suffered.  The same restless energy that let him move from person to person, group to group, and find people who’d treat him like a best friend left him restless at work, chafing, looking for the same sorts of shortcuts and little manipulations.  Over time, that saw people lose patience with him, or they would start to see through him.  This job with Mia aside, he hadn’t worked a proper job for more than six months.  When a job even wanted him.

Family, school, work, friend groups… he could get in, but he couldn’t stay.

Except here.

Wearing a towel, he stopped at open doorways to look in on Ripley and Tyr.  They adored him.  He adored them back.

Valentina was awake, and looked at him.

“We’ll find you a place.  A role,” he said, quiet.

“Okay.”

Then to Mia.  He left the towel on the back of the door and climbed in behind her.  His amazon.  Brilliant.  Strong.  Dangerous.  Exciting.  She brought out dimensions of him.  He fought to keep up, filling gaps, help her where she needed it.

He conformed his front to her back, putting one arm under the pillow, the other around her.

“Naked?  No,” she murmured.  “Only sleep.”

“I know,” Carson said,  “Only sleep.  You said.”

He settled in.

Mia had flown a drone out, putting it in view of a camera they were sure to check, tracking the trucks on the road.  If Davie Cavalcanti’s family didn’t know about his investment in drones, to have eyes in the sky and pilots for his gun drones, they would eventually find out.

It was peaceful, the two of them together like this, while three families would be going insane with worry and grief, hearing from friends of the three captives that they’d been kidnapped.  Members and friends of the family would be angry their sons and daughters had been at risk, left to walk back into the city at night.

Mention had been made of Davie, in earshot of the four captives.  Carson had modified his voice.  Highland had done most of the talking.  Then they’d dropped off the boy and took the three daughters away.

Ripples would extend across the family.  The worst of it would, with guidance, find Davie.  To be sealed when the three captives were found on one of his properties.

They’d bring more out.  Highland was all in on this job.  Moses had driven interference, watching for pursuit, and then disposed of the bodies of the drivers Highland had replaced.  They had key information.  Valentina could provide more.

Maybe, in the end, Davie would get the same treatment he’d given others.

In somewhat mixed messages from her earlier statements, Mia moved Carson’s hand to her chest, and laid a hand over it.  To keep it there.

His place to stay.

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