Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

---

The explosion at the back of the house rolled through the house itself, and sent a lone chair through a front window, losing one part of the chair back as it clipped the road, flipping end over end, before it landed in the neighbor’s yard, across the street.  There was less in the way of rolling flame and clouds of smoke than Valentina expected.

One corner of the house had been pushed out, and the surrounding walls sagged- bits of window, stone siding, and a part of the gutter came down.  The other rear corner of the house didn’t look great either.

“Good?” Moses asked.

“Good,” Valentina confirmed.

Dozens of cars had stopped in the street in their commotion, with a few in the wrong lanes.  People in other cars were dialing their phones, calling, texting.

Valentina added her own to the mix.

6103-221
Three

The reply came soon after.

5548-024
123

“All three were successes,” she said.  “Downtown?”

“Yeah,” Moses said.

Two houses and a place of business destroyed.  Highland was set up with a rifle.  Their target here was the politician who Mia thought was working with Cavalcanti, with one bombing targeting the home of one of the men Valentina had pointed out.  They’d checked there were no staff or pets inside, which seemed like an odd priority in the grand scheme of things, but it made Valentina feel a bit more normal, at least.

The information was in play.  Poisoning Uncle Nicholas’ reputation, in the background.  Making Davie look weak, ignoring Andre entirely.

Highland was managing the attack on the Cavalcantis, so they’d be up in arms.  Hit them in a place of business.

“I drove you, before.”

“Hm?” Valentina asked.  She turned to Moses.

“It was a while ago.  You were small, holding your mom’s hand.  I was new to the Cavalcantis, not entirely trusted.  I’d come from another gang.  Something was going down, they needed soldiers elsewhere.  I drove you, guy in the passenger seat watched me, ready to shoot if I was a problem.  I don’t know why he didn’t do the driving.”

“I wish I remembered.  Thanks for looking after my mom.  And me.”

“Yeah,” he said, tone a bit funny.

“So much of it was so messed up.  The takeover, the risks, the violence.”

“For you too, I figure?  I don’t have the full story, but you’re sitting in the back seat there, and we’re both doing this, that says something.”

“Yeah.  It’s not good, Moses.  The entire thing, it’s rotten.”

“Yeah.”

“This won’t stop or fix it, you know.  We can hurt them, but I’m not sure we can stop them.”

“No, guess not.  They’re too big.  I don’t know why I’m bringing up irrelevant shit, reminding you of your mom.”

“No,” she said.  “No, really, it’s good.  I want you to speak up.  I want… interaction.  It’s weird.  Sitting in the car, I don’t know why I chose the back seat.  Because I’m used to it?  Or for the space, to have a laptop with me?”

He was silent, eyes on the road.

“It was comfortable, as a kid, and later, knowing someone else was looking out, while I was in the back seat, watching the city go by.  But it was a bit scary too.  They almost never talked, and didn’t have conversations with me.  I like the idea you’d bring something up if you had a problem, or if you were unhappy.  Better than you going somewhere else that pays better.  In money or whatever else you’re after.”

“Revenge.”

“Your friends,” she said.  She’d nearly forgotten the details.  “Yeah.  Do you want to go after anyone particular?  I’m not sure I could promise, in case something went wrong, but…”

“It’d be nice if word got to people that matter.  My friends.”

“People?  Media?”

“Cavalcantis.”

“Like… let someone go, with a message?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyone from your past life that it could hurt?”

“I figure they’ve hurt those people already.”

“Okay,” Valentina said.  “Doable.”

“And I want a better idea of what’s going on.  What you’re doing, where.”

“That’s… trickier.”

“Yeah,” Moses said.

“I’m already doing a… less great job of keeping our information secure, compared to the voice on the phone.  I’m not an expert like she is, even if she taught me stuff, gave me resources.”

Mia hadn’t taught much, and the resources were pretty bare bones, all considered.

But Valentina didn’t want to broadcast that to Moses and lose his faith, either.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Moses said.  “Leaks and shit.  I know.  You don’t trust me all that much.”

“There are people we trust more, with specialized skill sets and histories, and we’re not telling them everything.”

“I don’t want to know everything.  But knowing more… I used to run with the Two-Oh-Nines.  Then we joined the Crazy Kitchen.  After that… they didn’t tell us shit.  Everything, even the guy in the passenger seat while I drove you, like some long-ass loyalty test.  Every job we got asked to do, we had to wonder, were they sending us because it was dangerous, and they didn’t want to risk real Cavalcantis?”

“Yeah.”

“So all this we’re doing now?  If you’re not telling me shit, I’m thinking about how it was back then.  Not that this is the same.  I have reasons to be here, that aren’t purely surviving.”

She was silent, and nervous now.

“If I was going to betray you all, I could’ve done it sooner.  Give them the address of the place with the girls we kidnapped.  Tell them the voice on the phone’s involved.  I’m not going to,” he said.

“Okay,” she told him.  “Some more information.  Not all, I can’t promise that.”

“Alright,” he said.

They drove to downtown.

“Nathan Mack?”

“…Yes?”

“I’m calling you as someone willing to help and to hire.  I know it could sound menacing.  I know who you used to be.”

“No idea what you mean.  That part of my life’s a fog.”

“The man who helped you escape died under strange circumstance.  Some limited information’s filtered down to people he trusted, along with cash, and orders to get revenge.  We’re reaching out to people on this list, to make offers, see if they’ll come out of retirement and help.”

“I’ll let you get on with the other names on the list.  You must be thinking of someone else with my name.”

“I’m sending you a file.”

 

“You said ‘who you used to be’.”

“I did.”

“I’m still him.  Still worried.  Still scared.  I knew some of this already, you know?”

“And I knew some.  Because I was a Cavalcanti.  I ran.  People found me, they knew other stuff.  We’re putting pieces together.”

“Do you want help putting the pieces together, or do you want a bomb?”

“Honestly?  Bombs.  Plural.  We’ll pay.  That document’s to let you know that we’re targeting people who deserve it.  People like the ones you targeted, who are taking power in ways that will be really hard to undo or take back.”

“You sound young.”

“No comment.”

“It’s a step forward, but it’s not the point.  Do you get the point?  Why I was making a bomb in the first place?”

“I think so.”

“Do you?  The dominoes fell.  The two towers and the pentagon at first, then as the months rolled on by, it was other things.  Sometimes the good guys won.  Sometimes they didn’t- and a few smaller test attacks got through before they stopped the big one.  Heroes who stop the attacks get lauded.  Then they build a narrative, assert more authority.  There were whispers of this agency or that organization being complicit, with moles or whatever, then those things would get scrubbed under the Mandate, gone the next day.”

“Yeah.”

“Rogue soldiers and randoms from ghost agencies and unofficial units spun up in the background and then tucked away in some higher-ups filing cabinet for some emergency, saving the day, and you wonder, were all of the attacks even real?  Where’s the truth?  Who’s closest to the lies.”

“Your targets.”

“They were some of them.  This gang, the Cavalcantis… they shouldn’t be your focus.  Nobody’s paying attention to the real crisis.”

“People I want to help are tied up in this.  I have to.”

“What if I said I don’t want you to pay me in money.  What if, for my payment, I asked for you to refocus?  You, anyone who knows anything, who’s willing to take steps like making bombs and blowing up dangerous people?  Help with the actual problems?”

Valentina checked the coast was clear- they’d reached a parking garage, where they were covered from above.  She got out of the car, stretching.  She needed to use the bathroom, after so long spent camping out and staking out the site, waiting for the dogwalker to come, take the dogs out, and jog off around the corner, pups loping alongside.  Then Moses had planted bomb three, they’d driven to a higher vantage point, checked nobody was walking down the sidewalk, and triggered it.

She dialed on a fresh phone.  Then, after a moment’s consideration, she put it on speaker, glancing at Moses.

“Hello?”

“One-two-three.  All were successful.  I’m wiring you the money now, sixty thousand,” she said.  She thumbed over to the money screen, briefly covering the phone with one hand.  Mia had a note on the money transfer screen.

Money is one of the biggest ways people get caught.  For amounts under ten thousand dollars, use the link on the phone.  Amounts at or over ten thousand dollars get tracked.  You have three options that have their unique drawbacks.  Crypto, escrow, and batch…

Sub-pages for each.

“Did you give any consideration to what I said?” Nathan asked.

“I did.  But this isn’t a career for me.  If it wasn’t for people I care about being in danger…”

“God damn it.”

“It’s not me.  But I’ll pass it on.  Let key people know.  Further down the road, we can help, I think.”

“I’ll think about it.  I don’t want to make promises.”

“The information here lines up.  I don’t disagree with the target.  I just hate that the mission isn’t…”

“Yeah.”

“I make it, you plant it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess.  You never did say how old you were.”

“Honestly?  Not old enough.  Not experienced enough,” she said.

“Money’s come through.”

“Yeah.  It’ll take a few minutes for it all to come through.  I’m sixteen.”

“Then I won’t be angry with you.  I’m sorry, new voice on the phone.  That I didn’t do more.  That I wasn’t bolder.  That the world you have to grow up into is one where a helicopter with two unfired ballistic missiles and an unlaunched dirty bomb on it is shot out of the sky and crashes into the middle of New York… and life goes on as normal.   That people forget that even happened. That we never held congress to account for… for any of it.”

“I’m sorry too.  That I’m not bolder.  I’m doing this for the sake of kids I know.”

“I’m doing it for kids too.  You included.  I’ve spent the last eight months trying to decide if I should try again.  Stressing over it so much I’ve got ulcers, I vomit blood.  Should I waste this second chance at life and everything tied to it?  Risk… other things.  Try to put a dent in this problem.  I guess I should thank you, for giving me a nudge.”

Nathan hung up.

“You gave a bomb maker a nudge?” Moses asked.

“I don’t know,” Valentina told him.

“Eight months is a funny number,” Moses said.

“We should go.  If they’re sniffing out phone calls on prepaid phones, they might be heading to this location.”

Moses climbed into the driver’s seat.  She got back into the passenger seat.  Still needed to use the washroom.

“Where to?” Moses asked.

“The house?”

“Can do.”

“Can you go straight from there to making another run, buy some more prepaid phones?”

“Yeah.”

She connected her seatbelt, and moved the laptop so it was open and beside her.  “Why is eight a funny number?”

“After I got my new lease on life, after that initial… stumbling, let’s call it.  Adjusting to a new name, new wardrobe, new pace, bills, looking for work, figuring out how to interact with people…”

“Yeah.  I’m not sure I’m even out of that phase, exactly.  Or I stumbled right off a balcony into a red hot trash fire.”

Moses chuckled.  “There was a time after that, I felt invigorated.  All the old bullshit gone, but the stuff that was pushing me from before was still fresh in my mind.  Stuff to get you pissed, stuff you felt was unresolved.  Contact- not the voice on the phone, the other one?”

Timoteo.

“Yeah?”

“He said to call him.  If it was minor, if a message had to be delivered, any cash needed to be sent, he’d find a way.”

“Sure.”

Valentina felt better when the car pulled out of the parking garage.  It had only two exits -four if she counted going on foot through the stairwell or the attached tunnel that extended over the street to the shopping mall- and that made her nervous.

Moses went on, “It fucks with you.  That kind of momentum, that kind of push, when you have nowhere to go.  When you’re barely you.  Maybe I’m different from that Nathan guy, but I went hard.  Drank, partied, picked a fight I shouldn’t have, got a short stint in jail.”

Moses hadn’t been one of the ones the contact had kept relatively close to home, in Camrose or the city.  Made sense, given the gang ties.  Good thing, too.  It sounded like he’d gotten up to stuff that could’ve led to him being discovered.

“All in all, even if a man wasn’t looking to start a family, I could see others feeling the way I did… trying to get to grips with their new life by seeking… life.  Violent, or fucking, or risk, or something.”

“You think he has a kid?”

“I can’t imagine anything that’d chew someone up inside as much as trying to decide between saving the world and being there for his brand new kid.”

The idea sounded alien to Valentina.  Like it was a thing that only happened in movies.

‘Being there for his kid’.  Her mom hadn’t- she’d run, and maybe been killed for the crime of answering Valentina’s phone call.  Her dad had done the opposite of ‘being there’ to a degree that felt surreal if she tried to think about it.

But she was focused on Ripley and Tyr, in her way.  Mia was.

She’d used the metaphor before, that trying to make something happen in these circumstances was like trying to get a minivan to the moon.  She supposed that the way to get there would be through territory that felt this alien.

And by pushing hard.

“Are you going to be upset when we take the next steps?” she asked.  “Reaching out to groups you used to call enemies?”

“Does it hurt the Cavalcantis?” Moses asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ll manage.”

She rolled down the window a bit, to get a breeze, and shut her eyes.  She couldn’t sleep though, with the urge to use the facilities being as pointed as it was.  The issue with stakeouts, and being watched constantly.

She’d manage too.

⯁

Highland tossed a phone onto the coffee table.

Valentina picked it up.

It had a photo.  Nicholas Cavalcanti, standing at a window.

She looked up at him.

“Is it a problem?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.  You shot him?”

“Center of mass.  He dropped.  I shot two more people, then left.  There wasn’t a good chance to check with you, with the codes and the way they might be watching calls on cell phones.”

She shook her head, though she felt a little shaken at the idea.  It reminded her of being a kid, of her mom dying.  The idea that adults could leave her and not be there anymore had shaken something fundamental.

Uncle Nicholas had always seemed untouchable.

“How are the kids?” Highland asked.

“Okay, I think.  I checked on the cameras.  The babysitter is staying overnight- babysitter’s mom is stopping in to make sure everything’s okay, too.  She insisted.”

“We trust this babysitter?”

“I liked her a lot.  Yeah.”

“The next moves are big ones,” Highland said.  “There’s a lot of risk things get out of control.”

“Yeah,” Valentina said.  She lifted the laptop from her lap to the coffee table, avoiding putting it on top of Highland’s phone.  She’d been browsing social media, seeing how Addi’s network was disseminating the information.

“Mr. Bolden,” the Angel could be heard.  “Crutches aren’t meant to dig into your armpits like that.  You’ll hurt yourself if you’re doing that regularly.”

“I’ll fucking hurt myself if I put more weight on these legs, too.”

Valentina got up, to refill her water, get a frozen burrito out of the freezer, and grab some paper towels to clean up a spill from earlier.  She offered to heat something for others, got refusals all around, and was able to microwave the burrito and return to her seat before Bolden made it to the living room.  Highland vacated one chair so Bolden didn’t have to hobble to one further away.

The Angel of Death went to the kitchen and washed her hands.

“Is this a meeting?” Valentina asked.

“Makes sense to have one,” Highland said.  “Figure out next steps.  We sketched out and discussed some maneuvers earlier.  Bombings and one major Cavalcanti shot this evening.  We had other moves planned for tonight, with the idea that we want them to lose sleep.”

“If it’s a meeting, let’s bring others in.”

“We need eyes on the captives,” Highland said.

“I can watch one group,” the Angel of Death said.

“Moses watches the other.  Good.”

“He wanted to know more.  He’s anxious, not knowing.”

“Don’t call a gangster anxious,” Highland said.  “It’s a matter of respect.”

“He wanted to know more.  He’s helped a lot.  Put my laptop where it has a view?” Valentina asked.

“I can do that,” the Angel of Death said.

Moses was brought downstairs.  They began to talk plans, recapping the moves to date.

Mia wouldn’t approve.  Valentina liked being more open- mostly because she didn’t have the resources or raw competence to reassure people in the group, to make up for the relative silence.  They had a tight group so far, people Mia and Carson had trusted, and who had reasons to not turn on them and give info to the Cavalcantis.

“Every person we call on the phone is an opportunity for a traitor to show up.  Someone who might figure one of the largest gangs on the west coast will pay for an inside man and information about what we’re doing,” Highland said.  “But we can’t make a dent with a group this size.  All it takes is one Cavalcanti foot soldier getting lucky or stupidly brave, and one of us is out of the fight.”

Bolden sighed heavily.  His arms brushed his crutches as he repositioned them, and they rattled.

“Cavalcantis have controlling power in schools, private police, government, information technology, crime, and civilians.  We’re making an impact with some of those, but we’re forced to scale up.”

“The bombs,” Moses said.

“And a few risky shots.  Our advantage is that they’re spread thin.  We can take our choice of places to go after them.  It’s impossible for them to have enough soldiers at every single spot we could decide to attack.  Key youth got kidnapped, we still have them.  We’ve got the school turning on them, I hope?”

“Yeah,” Valentina said.  “I don’t know how effective it’ll be, but I know they hate it.  Lots of chatter about the kidnappings.  You guys kidnapped a bunch, but only kept the three.  The ones who got away have a lot to say.”

“Their biggest allies in government are going to be upset.  Nicholas Cavalcanti is probably dead,” Highland said.  “Next moves…”

“Ledbetters are ready, waiting for a target.  Or waiting for me to call them off,”  Valentina said.  “They’re sketchy.  There are other names we can call, but we run into that problem – can we trust them?  And can we trust whoever they trust?  The Ledbetters are calling in old favors.”

“We use them in ways where trust doesn’t matter,” Highland said.  “Give them a job, don’t tell them anything about any other moves we’re making.”

“Have to keep them from crossing paths,” Moses added.  “Don’t underestimate old rivalries.”

“Definitely,” Highland said.

Valentina nodded.  She used her laptop to keep track.  “Then it’s the Ledbetters.  The Kenyons.  Moses is calling in a favor with an old friend.  We’ll try reaching out to Los Isleños and Sons of Satunday, but I haven’t gotten an initial response yet.”

“Kenyons are new?” Moses asked.

“No, but they’re minor.  Family owned money printing enterprise.  Fell apart, they asked for a bailout.  Similar to Moses, they know enough people who they have leftover favors with, that they can make something happen.”

“White?”

“Very,” Valentina said.

“Ledbetters are white.  My old acquaintances in the Two-Oh-Nines are Latino.  Los Isleños, Latino.  Sons of Satunday, white.”

“Bikers, semi-inclusive.”

“But mostly white.  White supremacists?”

“The voice on the phone didn’t do business with them.”

“Okay.  Black gangs?”

“I don’t know the full story there, but from what I can tell, some of them tried to take over the ‘fresh start’ business from Timoteo, the man who was the first point of contact for most of you.  He ruled out doing business with them.”

“They should be the biggest standing threat.  Pushed to the margins, but they hold on.  Are we open to trying?”

“Are you open to working with them?” Highland asked Moses.

“I have more beef with Los Isleños, and we’re working with them.”

“If we get enough on board, we might be able to declare it open house.  Any group who isn’t pushing back is suspect,” Moses said.

Conversation continued for a few minutes, mostly focused on some prospective targets.

It was Bolden’s voice that broke the rhythm.  “I think the what and where is less important than the when.”

“We’re doing okay,” Highland said.

“But we have a goal.  One that stays between us here, because when we’re talking to them, these new people with old vendettas?  It’s about getting our people out.  You have a plan.”

“Yeah,” Valentina said, glancing at Highland.  “Not sure it’s a great one.  We’re giving them a shot, and we’ll be close-ish, to back them up if they take it.”

Highland nodded.  “We need to convince them that it’s Valentina and a group loyal to Timoteo sharing information to coordinate this.  Then we increase the pressure.  It’s our hope that the voice on the phone says she can’t keep working with the resources they brought with.  She needs her home setup.  There’ll be a heavy escort, probably.  But depending on how well we sell the alternate narrative… maybe less heavy.”

“Then you swoop in to the rescue?” Bolden asked.

Highland shrugged one shoulder.  “She might be able to rescue herself, with help from ‘uncle’.  She likes traps.”

“I think they might’ve used a trap and run, if the group holding them hostage was smaller,” Valentina said.

Highland nodded.

“This is a guerilla war,” Bolden said.  “Then when is crucial.  We want this to happen sooner, while they’re reacting, before this has a chance to go wrong, or for people to start fucking up, getting interrogated, and telling tales.”

“Knowing her, she’ll want to time things for after nine o’clock,” Valentina said.

Because of the kids.

“Will she?  Okay.  Then we adjust our pacing.  Including selling the narrative,” Bolden said.  “Because that’s crucial.  But be careful.  In my experience, as you push this sort of thing, picking people off, it gets harder and harder to find easy targets.  They draw together, naturally watch each other’s backs.”

“Unless we drive them apart,” Highland said.

“I’ve never really known that to happen.  The fear and instinct win out.”

⯁

“Nyeah?” the voice had a nasal quality to it.

“Lor Ledbetter?”

“Nobody’s called me that for a long time.  We on?”

“You prepared?”

“Called friends over for a party.  They’re wide eyed, teeth grinding, and eager.”

“Cavalcantis have a lot of traffic coming and going from a house in Albright Village.  A man named Charlie Pullen, the Butcher, manages it.  He lives at 179 Bishop, which is a block and a half away, on the other side of the street, and always has a group of guards with him, even at night.  You can either block them or target them.  If you rush the house tonight, you can get the day’s earnings that they’re counting overnight, before they take it away in the morning.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I’m sending you some files.  You should have an email you got as part of your identity.”

“I haven’t even looked at that.  Who uses email?”

“Look now.  It has some maps of the area.  If you ruin their night, you get the pay.  If you raid them, you keep what you take.  If any civilians get caught up in this, and you take them, something we know you do, then you let them go by end of day tomorrow, in the same condition they left.  Untouched.”

“Who’s innocent, really?”

“Kids.  Anyone forced to work for them, like how the Ledbetters used people to cut drugs.  Elderly.  Neighbors.”

“Shit, honey.  Being a kid doesn’t guarantee innocence.”

“Untouched, freed by end of day tomorrow, same condition they left.  Or we’ll have a problem.”

“You don’t sound as tough as you think.  You sound like one of those innocent kids.”

“Do we have a deal?”

“Half up front.”

“Don’t try to get clever.”

The sound of Lor Ledbetter’s shrill laugh that had rang over the last part of the conversation stuck in Valentina’s head.  From ‘you don’t sound as tough as you think’ on.  It nettled at her.

It made her think the Ledbetters were evil.  People who reveled in the weaknesses of others, and preyed on them.

One company dominates online sales in North America and Europe.  Food, clothing, furniture, technology.  They push preferred products, skewing reviews and biasing how products are displayed to put certain ones at the top.

Most people use this site for their purchases of tech.  Of those, most follow the given instructions to pair the device with their WiFi.  With a WiFi packet sniffer, you can drive slowly through a neighborhood, and one or two houses on every block will have the same common devices, using the default setups, with the same ports open.  This setup gives access to common doorbell cameras.  With a bit of work, you can learn to access more things, including laptops and webcams.

Here’s how to build and set up a WiFi packet sniffer…

Mia had given the instructions.  Valentina had set it up.  Moses had driven through.

Bolden and Highland had the bigger plan.  Groups like the Ledbetters had their own way of doing things.  Valentina could channel most of her energy into making the calls, using the information, trying to facilitate.

Being Mia and Carson meant she could worry less about being like her dad.

That was the idea, anyway.  Except things flowed the other way.

Mia gave second chances.  Valentina was disrupting that, offering deals with the devil, where she was the devil.  To come out of retirement.  To take money, or pursue old vendettas.

The Ledbetter group had made it to the target area.  They’d felt it was better to move first, because they didn’t want the Butcher to be on the alert.

A convoy of four trucks, taking advantage of Mia’s map to know exactly where they were going.  Three made right turns and two carried on down the street.

A fourth swerved slightly, but drove straight into the front yard without slowing or turning.  Straight through the front window.

The scene on Valentina’s laptop was silent, but she could see the flashes as the guns started firing, with the people in the car that had rammed the house climbing out to start shooting those inside, while the car that had parked outside was used as cover by a crew that shot anyone who came around the sides or front.  The other two cars went for the house Mia had identified.

I set this in motion, Valentina thought.  My idea, I gave them the signal.

The other house had civilians. Valentina didn’t have a great view – the one house on that block with a doorbell camera was beside the target house, so she saw half of the attack, pretty much.

Two women, three little kids, and a crew of three soldiers who were close with the kids.

The Ledbetters shot the soldiers from the house and took the women and kids with them, driving one of the soldier’s cars to carry their cargo.

Valentina wanted to shut the laptop and look away.  She couldn’t.

There was more to do tonight.

She signaled Moses and Sons of Satunday.

The text came from the Ledbetters.

4212-128
there’s barely shit here

Had Mia’s inference from the heavy activity been wrong?  Or was the timing bad?

Meaning they were angry.  Meaning they might not adhere to the deal.  Meaning this already stood to get out of control.

9142-836
Check for hiding places
If there really is nothing I’ll pay you something for the trouble

That was going to be more trouble down the line, she was pretty sure.

⯁

“Moses.  Do you prefer any targets, out of this list?”

“What’s this one?  Ditch Stop?”

“Car shop in Corning Ditch.  The entire family uses it.  Seems like a perk if you’re with the Cavalcantis.”

“And the place where they go to eat.  I know this one.  I ate there a few times, even if we weren’t truly accepted.”

“Hrmm.  Gio.  The contact ran a car shop, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be their backup.”

“Me and my friends from the old days will hit three targets, then.  Ditch stop, Leo’s, Timoteo’s.”

“You sure you can do all that?”

“It’s not fancy.  Fire and fast wheels.  I want to hurt them.  I want it to mean something.  I’ll make it happen.”

Valentina signaled Moses.

There were no cameras in a position to give a good view of the damage.

Moses had his own communication going on with his old crew.  It would take a minute before everything came through.

She remembered eating at Leo’s.  A great-aunt’s birthday being held there.  Two different wedding receptions.  The Ditch Stop was apparently a hang-out for a subset of the gang.  Moses had wanted to hurt the Cavalcantis.  He attacked traditions. 

The images came through.  Spray paint on the sidewalk: Felipe Pereyra.  And fire in the background.

He’d made his declaration, reminded them why this was happening.  Part of it, at least.

All of this was such a big deal.  All of this, and Valentina felt like a fraud.

⯁

Photo of the fires was all it took to get the Kenyons moving.  They didn’t want to talk on the phone.

Val Kenyon had printed money- stuff that wouldn’t pass a check under blue light, but passed otherwise.  Her boyfriend, a police officer, had turned abusive, trying to take over the enterprise.  When the abuse had turned toward her kids, she’d woken up and made moves to sabotage him.

Which ended up having bigger effects than she’d anticipated, when a group of police officers, her boyfriend included, had made a deal with a local gang- the then-splinter group of the Crazy Kitchen, that had tried to break off on its own.

Mia hadn’t offered the details of what the gang members and police had done for revenge.  Val didn’t hint or suggest anything.  It was left for Valentina to infer.

Val Kenyon was not a good person.  She’d been abused, she was a victim, but that was separate from the things she’d done, first alone, then with her kids.

But she was angry enough to say ‘yes’ when offered a chance for revenge.

She still had some of the chemicals from the money printing stowed away.  She took them to Andre’s club.  Her son and daughter took another to Andre’s bar.

They apparently stunk so bad that masks were required.

And they were flammable, and noxious, according to Val.

Once the chemicals were ignited, the smoke plume was visible from half the city away.

⯁

“You sound young.”

“You sound old.  Does age matter?  I’m offering you a way to hurt old enemies.  Consider tonight an event.  Old vendettas.  Groups the Cavalcantis thought they vanquished, rising up again.”

“Who?”

“The Kenyons.  Two-oh-nines.  Los Isleños.  Some others joined in of their own accord.”

“Like?”

“Ledbetters.”

“Fuck them.  Blacks?”

“Holler Street is pending.”

“Get them on board, we’ll join in on the fun.”

⯁

“You sure?” Highland asked.

It was the early hours of the morning- the sun preparing to rise, but not quite there.

Holler Street had answered the message she’d left.  They were interested.

Face to face only.

“No,” she admitted.  “But if Holler Street is on board, the Sons of Satunday are too.”

“We only have a surface level view of a lot of this.  The Voice on the phone isn’t omniscient.  We don’t know what’s happening under the surface.”

“I know.  But this is key.  This might be the last bit of pressure we need, and it’s a chance to let them know my role in things.  Your file says you’d do these kinds of escort jobs.  Being a bodyguard in a meeting between factions.”

“I would.  I also didn’t try as hard as I should to stay alive.  I had the attitude that if I ate lead, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“I’m not sure I feel any different.”

“You’re too fucking young to say that.”

“And this is so crucial.  For the voice.  For Mia.”

She knew using the name was manipulative.  That it would probably win him over.”

“Be careful.  Don’t do anything stupid.  Stay off to the side, and let me back you up.  If anything happens, drop, or get back into the car.”

“Yeah.”

They turned down the road.  Highland paused, then steered into a driveway, turning off the engine.

“What’s going on?”

“Being careful.”

They remained there, waiting.  A lone car passed down the road behind them.  A rusty thing.

Valentina wasn’t sure what Highland was watching out for.  She could barely see anything, with half the city blacked out around them, and all details too dim to see against a backdrop of city lights.  This neighborhood was run-down, with a large park in the center of it that she’d seen earlier, when Highland was waiting at a stop sign to turn.  A car that had parked there and been reduced to rusted outer shell and rotted seats was the best piece of ‘playground’ equipment.  The rest looked dangerously unreliable- a swing set with a bent top bar, a see-saw where three of the four the seats.

She could only barely see the silhouettes of some of it now, and only because she knew what to look for.

“‘Kay.”

Highland started up the car again, reversed, and pulled back onto the street.

They stopped on the road, playground off to the side.

“Here?”

She checked the map.

Here.

It took a minute before the car came from the other direction.  It stopped, headlights bright.  One of the occupants got out.  A bald black man in Holler Street orange.

He looked pissed.  Lines standing out in the corners of his jaw.

She got out too.

It felt like she was supposed to meet him halfway.  She didn’t.  Instead, she sat with her hip against the hood of the car.

“You’re a kid, kid,” the man said.

“I’m someone who lived with the Cavalcantis for years.  They betrayed me.  I gathered information on them.  A lot of it from soldiers who were trying to make themselves look better to the daughter of one of the family heads.  I kept track, investigated on my own.  Then I found some people who were doing their own digging.”

He looked so angry.  He wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Recognize your emotions and what they’re for.  Your body adjusts.  Fear is there for a reason, anxiety is fuel, anger gives you permission to push past your social limits.  Millions of years of evolution have given you tools.  Tools most people don’t listen to.

Mia’s words.

But what emotions was she meant to listen to?  The anger, against her family?  Or the concerns here?

She barely knew who she was.  It felt at times like she existed in the shadows of others.  From a shade of her dad tormenting a helpless Addi to being Mia.

Mia would probably tell her to hone that, but she was so, so far away from it.

“Reaching for my phone,” she said.

She pulled it out.

“Why?” the man asked.

“Showing you something.”

On impulse, she didn’t immediately go to the information she’d been prepared to give to Holler Street, so they’d have a good target that would put them a good distance away from rivals who were also hurting the Cavalcantis.

Cameras.  Fine.

“You called me out here, then you make me wait?”

“It’s worth it,” she said.

Landmines.

Mia had apparently named the term off of something Carson had said.  If people went looking, or visited the wrong sites- the kind of site that someone would only visit if they were digging for information, it’d get flagged.  Some were automatic, going straight to her phone.  Others required her to check.  Others took anywhere from days to a week to turn up any clear information.

Mia had given a false name to Timoteo, the contact, to give to a friend of one person she’d disappeared.  To be given to law enforcement only.

Maybe Mia had tripped it on purpose, from her end of things.  Maybe not.

But someone had searched up that name, two hours ago.

I broke the rules, I didn’t met him face to face.  I got greedy.

“Gonna ask my driver a question.”

“Yeah?  Going to suck his dick too?  Leave me waiting?  You invited me, bitch.  Let’s get down to business already.”

She opened the door, hands staying in view.

“Sting, I think.”

Highland’s eyes traveled across the darkness around them.

“Dive in.  Now.”

She did.  And it was awkward, because he chose that same moment to switch gears, revving the engine, his elbow jabbing her as she crashed into her seat and the division between seats.

He steered so the breadth of the car and him were blocking the car and the Holler Street lieutenant.  Which was good, because the man apparently drew a gun.  Shots fired.

Glass somewhere in the car shattered.

In a sting?  Like that?

Valentina squirmed, fighting to right herself, while keeping her head down.

Mainly to get her door shut, before there was any trouble.

Nine times out of ten, the police are just another gang.  The only difference is that they’re socially accepted.

Carson’s words.

And they’d made allies with the Cavalcantis.

The net had been closing behind them, while she was slowly realizing the trap.

Police and Cavalcanti soldiers.

Gunshots popped off in increasing numbers.  Valentina shrieked, involuntary.

Highland put the car into higher gear.  Tires screeched in the moment before they found traction.  Bullets pinged the car.

Her stomach lurched with the sudden movement of the car.

Lurched again when something hit them.  Another vehicle.  Metal scraped metal.

They moved so slowly in the wake of that, getting back up to speed.  Highland elbowed her again in the gear changes.

More bullets hit the car, at the back.  Another piece of glass shattered, miniscule fragments falling onto Valentina’s legs.

She was so weak.  A part of her felt betrayed.  Like some secret, dark part of her was hurt her dad would try to kill her like this.  Even with everything she’d done.  That if this was some movie, he’d confront the darker side of himself, and love would win.

It wasn’t winning.

They were losing.  Or they’d lost already.  She couldn’t poke her head up enough to see which it was.  How bad the situation was.

“Are we dead?” she asked.

Highland didn’t answer the question.

He passed her a handgun, instead.

“Use that until you can reposition.  The rifle’s in the back seat.”

“Use-?”

“On that.”

Further down the road, it was a drone.  Nothing like the drones she’d seen on the monitors, when Mia had been looking out.  Those had been discreet.  This was the size of an in-window air conditioner, with hardware mounted on the front and underside.  Including guns.

She aimed, and it floated to one side, veering away.  She adjusted, and it adjusted in kind.

Highland swerved.  The drone adjusted, then fired a single shot into their engine block.  The recoil of the high-caliber shot made the drone flip end over end, before it caught itself.

She aimed, nearly shoving the gun in Highland’s face, as the drone hung in the corner of the shattered windshield’s field of view.  It floated up.  So the roof blocked her view of it.  Responding to her taking aim faster than she could take aim enough to feel confident in her shot.

She took that moment to go for the rifle, moving her car seat back as far as it’d go, reaching.

Another lone shot.  Punchy, compared to the patter of other gunshots.

She didn’t see what happened, so much as she saw the aftermath.  The window shattering.  The top of the door where it met the window parting, a hole in it.  Highland’s left wrist bloody, hand at a weird angle compared to the arm.  Right leg similar, where thigh met knee- bloody, jeans torn.  Cup holder shattered.

“Steer!” he barked.  “Get us through!”

Forcing her to get her head up, and face it all.  A drone.  Red and blue lights flashing.  Her old family, out for her blood.

Impossible.

---

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter