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Chapter -12- Negotiations

Saturday, August 14 - morning North England ...

Joe Pendleton glared at the drapes. They billowed with a morning breeze. His first instinct was to investigate the window but he couldn't get out of bed without ripping his stitches. Pendleton turned back towards an armed man standing at the bedroom door. "Check it out, Luther."

The man gave a firm tug at his pinstripe vest and withdrew a handgun. He attached a flash suppressor and approached the window. Luther peered through the window, using the barrel of his weapon to nudge the curtains apart. The guard lowered to one knee and gazed out the window at several angles. "Nothing boss. It wasn't open when I came on duty."

"I know. Someone opened it within the last few minutes." Pendleton shifted his weight and winced from where he'd had his left hamstring sliced last week. He reached for a gun in his nightstand and checked the chamber. He thumbed the safety and waited. "Well, Charlie?"

Charles Luther stood up and gazed down, over the edge of the window sill, to the courtyard garden, four stories below. "I don't see'em. You think it's that stupid kid from the other day?"

"I'm sure. I stuck my poignard in Jon Parker's son. The boy seemed very upset about it. Be ready for anything."

"Sir, I don't know who Jon Parker is, but..." A flashy metal hooked cane came through the window from above, snagged the man by his vest and pulled him forward. Luther's forehead hit the window frame hard, dazing him. The cane rotated, pulled back, and drew the gun from his hand. The weapon fell to the grass, far below.

Two feet came through the window, striking Luther in the chest. Luthor went to his back on the floor.

Conner Parker landed in a crouch in front of the guard. He reached down and struck the man in the throat then held his hand in place for several seconds. Luther's eyes rolled up into his head, unconscious.

Conner stood up and leaned on his cane, grinning at Joseph Pendleton. "My uncle made it. He'll be fine. I'm not going to hold it against you because you had no idea what you were doing. You attacked your own family members. We'll chalk it up to ignorance and jealousy. So. I know you're a distant cousin of some sort. I know you have our ability, and I know you're a greedy schmuck. And that's why I know you won't pull the trigger."

Pendleton smirked. He pointed the gun downward, aiming for the boy's legs. "I'll wound you. You'll talk or I'll continue to wound you."

"I'd love to see you try."

"Fair enough." Joseph pulled the trigger.

Conner was ready. The round struck his cane, causing the bullet to ricochet into the floor.

Pendleton fired again. His silenced handgun created an obnoxious, staccato sound, bucking in his palm. Again, the boy managed to eye the angle, and deflected the round with the simple metal pole.

"Impressive, kid."

"You want to see impressive? Go ahead, do it again."

"Fine." Again, Pendleton fired the weapon.

This time, the cane deflected the shot, causing it to come back at Joseph, striking the headboard of his bed. The blood rushed out of Joseph's face. He exhaled and raised the weapon. The boy adjusted his cane accordingly. Joseph made a sudden move, changing the vector, and the boy moved the cane accordingly with equal grace and speed.

Pendleton thumbed the safety and placed the gun at his side on the mattress. "You're better than I thought. And here I assumed you got in a lucky hit last week. Seems your mother did a good job with your training."

"She started at ten and hated it," said the boy. "I started at five and loved it. You want to find out just how good I am?"

"You arrogant little prick," Pendleton sneered. "I wouldn't be any match with my injury. My father is too old to fight you. You have a lot of nerve to talk like you could..."

"I did, Joe. Can I call you Joe? Great. You brought your knee into my stomach, and you took a dagger in your crotch for the trouble. You're lucky I didn't jam it into your balls, Joe. Then you wouldn't have any kids. Now, I'm not here to gloat. I don't need to. James wasn't ready, and you're not as badass as you think you are. So. I'll make you a deal."

Joseph narrowed his gaze. "What's the deal?"

"First, let me ask you this - have you ever seen any other supernatural people other than us?"

"I've heard stories, but no."

Conner shrugged. "No big deal. Up until this year, I'd never seen half the stuff that's out there. People that create fire, lightning, turn into wolves..."

"You have an active imagination, kid."

"Apparently it wasn't active enough, because even having all that shit shoved in my face, I didn't believe it at first. Anyhow, there's this guy named Aris Falcon who is killing people like you and me. He's good at it. He killed a lot of us twenty-five years ago. Like, a hundred thousand, plus. Anyhow, he's the one who caused the quake in 2025. And the survivors who have supernatural abilities have been getting together and talking about how to stop this guy. You're part of my extended family. I think you should join us. We can use all the help we can get."

"What's in it for me?"

Conner blinked, unable to comprehend the question. "What does that even mean? I'm not doing this for money or my health. I don't need money, and this guy can kill me, so if I ignore him, I die, and if I help stop him, I might live. If you help us, you have a better chance of living to an old age. What the hell else is worth your time?"

"I want that island."

"You're serious?" Conner folded his arms. "You could have earned my trust and learned where it's at. But being a douchebag isn't the way to do that."

"How much is in that vault?"

Conner's eyes narrowed, squinting at the man. "More than you can count."

"Fine. Then I want half."

"Let me put it this way." Conner approached the bed and put his foot on the end of the mattress, leaning on his elbows across his propped knee. "If you took that money out of the vault, you would cripple the world's economy. Then the global money market would be worthless. I could make every human being on this planet into a billionaire and still have more money than them."

"Then do it. You could end war, you sodding little twit."

Conner shook his head. "Money doesn't stop wars, it funds them."

"Fine, you could end poverty and starvation."

Conner sighed, annoyed. "But then it would cost a million bucks for a loaf of bread. And there would be a shortage of grain in two days flat. You want that to happen? Seems to me like you wouldn't know how to be responsible with real money."

"You're bluffing. Again, you've got an overactive imagination."

"Again, you are being ignorant. Fine, whatever. Your dad is too old, and you're too childish to help. Sorry I wasted both our time." Conner turned for the window. He stopped at the sill and glanced over his shoulder. "I was raised that family is important. Our family was pretty big, once. I'd kind of like to see it large again. So, call me sentimental, but ... I'll give you one last chance to join our crusade. You in or out?"

"I want my half of what's in that vault."

"It wouldn't be able to come out of the vault. That much gold goes over a mile deep. What the hell would you do with it? Someone would shoot you, and that gold would wind up getting dumped into the global economy somehow, and it would throw everything out of whack."

"I really don't care. Some of that shit belongs to me by birthright. It's up to me what I want to do with it."

"I don't think you're getting the point," said Conner. He gave the cane a spin, then a twirl. He began walking back towards the bed as if to somehow punctuate his speech. "The point of our family isn't to be rich thieves. We aren't in it for the money. We're here to police the economy from being thrown into disarray. We made a profit off of being guardians of the world's precious metal supply. But we're not the world's richest people because we can't advertise what we have, and we cannot spend it all. We can't invest it, we can't collect interest on it. We can't even move it. We've been doing this work for so long, the family can't begin to figure out how it could possibly be..."

"I don't care! It's my birthright!"

Conner walked back to the window. "I made a mistake to come here. You must be one of those family branches that were excommunicated for this exact reason. Go steal your own fortune."

"I have money. This isn't about money."

Conner sat down on the ledge of the window sill. "Then what is it about?"

"To be honest, I don't know. But I want what belongs to me. And you have more than enough to share."

"You're talking about small deposits of gold made by family members over the course of thirty-five hundred years. We had a few overzealous family members who brought shipments in by a fleet of ships, but this is the modern world. We can't risk a greedy government finding it and laying claim to it with a military force. Again, it would fuck up the whole world, Joe. So grow up."

"Now I know it exists, I will kill you, kid, and make it my life's work to find the island where it's hidden. Shouldn't be too hard - I have enough money to hire people to scour the South Pacific. That is where the island is hidden, isn't it?"

Conner folded his arms. "I'm not a very good liar. But, hey, the Pacific Ocean is a big place. You have about the same chance of finding a famously lost female pilot from the early twentieth century." He snapped his fingers a few times with a frown. "Dammit, what was her name? Y'know, I'll sit up tonight and think of her name at three in the morning. I hate when that happens."

"That's what happens when you spend more time training than taking things from world famous museums. That's what our family was founded on."

"No, we were protecting irreplaceable things from replaceable people."

"Conner, how can you expect me to risk my life to help you without some sort of reward? I want my half of the share. It's that simple."

Conner continued to snap his fingers, rhythmically. "It started with vowels. Damn, what was her name?"

"It doesn't matter. It was over a century ago."

"Listen, Joe. You can do what my Uncle James did. You work hard and earn my trust, and I'll let you see the inside of the vault."

"Forget it. I'll find it myself."

Conner snapped his fingers and pointed straight up. "Amelia Earhart. See? I'm not an idiot, I'm just bad with names sometimes."

"You're naïve. Inexperienced. You're following what you've been told by your parents. But that much gold, if it truly exists, would make El Dorado pale in comparison. It would be enough to build a city, entire buildings, in precious metals. Why not just use it and build an actual city on that island?"

"Heh, and you said_I_ have an overactive imagination. The weight would sink the island. That's why we keep it below the waterline. Look, Joe, I wanted to give you a shot. I did my best. You had your chance and you blew it."

"Conner, come sit down and let's talk about this."

"Been there, done that. I gave it a try. Forget it, Joe. You were obviously banned from the family for a reason. I'm content to stick to that decision." Conner leaned back and fell from the window.

Pendleton grimaced. He slid off the bed and placed his hands on a nearby walker. Joseph waddled over to the window and gazed out over the yard. He observed Conner using his cane to swing on a flag pole.

The boy whirled about the pole several times until he came to his feet in the grass. Conner sprinted across the backyard and disappeared in the tree line at the far end.

Joseph grimaced. "Fine. From here on out, the surviving family members are in a civil war. Winner takes all, boy."

X

X

Meanwhile... San Francisco...

"When I find this guy..." Reno lowered the jet spray nozzle and held his left hand out towards Kalen. "Fork it over."

Kalen Kincade furrowed his brows, withdrew a cigar from his lips and passed it towards Nevada. "You smoke?"

"Not often. But a quality cigar every now and then is never a bad thing. I'm surprised _you_smoke."

"It's something I started doing to pass myself off as mortal."

"Right." Reno took the stogie, wedged it between his teeth and inhaled. He resumed spraying water across the front of his car, blasting away at the soap and remainder of blood, which sat in the crevices framing his windshield. "So what makes you such a badass that you got to work with Nathan Carrington? Vampires can't do anything special besides taking a beating right?"

Kalen smirked. "You don't know much about the undead, do you?"

"What'cha mean?" Reno released the trigger and pushed the jet nozzle into a metallic cylindrical holster mounted to a nearby wall.

Kalen took a step forward, placing his feet in a puddle. "Electrocute me."

Reno arched his brows back at the vampire. "Say what?"

"Just do it."

Reno rolled his eyes. "Don't try and act all..."

"Just do it, Reno. Let me prove a point to you."

"Fine, you asked for it." Nevada turned about, glanced down to make sure he, himself, wasn't standing in a puddle, and then zapped the water Kalen stood in.

Kincade's muscles tensed up and his hands clenched into fists but he didn't stumble or drop. Reno increased the intensity of voltage, but it made no difference. After about ten seconds, he dissolved the bolt and folded his arms.

"I'll be damned."

"You see?"

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Somewhere between the sensation of being stung by hornets on every inch of my body and being scalded by boiling water ... yes, it hurts."

"Jesus. How do you not shout?"

"I can't when being electrocuted," said the vampire. "My jaw clamps tight. But other than the initial stun, it does nothing. Eventually, my body would get used to it and began to function again." Kalen began rubbing his left bicep. "Charlie horses are an annoyance, however." He massaged his arm vigorously, working the knotted muscle. Next he used the heel of his palms to rub his outer thighs. "I am afraid electric current only goes so far on the undead. The biggest concern is fire, a side effect of your electricity."

"Oh, right ... okay. Because you have less water content in your body."

"Mm, precisely. So," Kalen continued to rub his legs for a moment then glanced up at Reno. "What's next?"

"Well if this guy is keeping his eye on us, that means he might be watching us now. So let's act accordingly. I say we lead him on and see if he bites."

"Horrible pun, Reno."

"Yeah, I know. I meant it like fishing, though. We use ourselves at bait. Let's book a hotel and wait for him."

"You seriously think it's that easy?"

"Nope, but let's rule out the possibility he's following us right now."

"Fair enough. But if you think he's watching us, why zap me? Now he knows your capabilities."

A relaxed smirk found Reno's lips. "Yeah. He'll think he's invulnerable because he's like you. Now he won't have any qualms about approaching us."

"I see." Kalen paused, tilted his head and asked, "So why isn't he attacking now?"

"Because it's easier to see where we're going to rest, and wait until we close our eyes. So, let's just skip to that part and get this show on the road."

"What makes you so sure he's casing us?"

"Because he already tried throwing a body at us from an overpass. He's watching us. Call it a hunch, but I want to give it a shot and get this show on the road already."

"You're the boss, Inspector."

Nevada grinned. "That's Agent Carrington to you, pal." He passed the cigar back to Kalen. "Aren't Cubans illegal?"

"Not anymore."

Nevada's grin broadened. "I'm beginning to like the future. Glad they're not under water."

"Mm, Cuba seems to have weathered the storm rather well." Kalen exhaled a plume of cigar smoke and added, "It's harder to find any kind of cigar in California, now. It's one of the few things keeping the District Coast alive - tobacco. Then again, those states have always been known for that crop."

"That and cotton, right? So what's Lance's profile tell you about our guy?"

"Not much. Certainly nothing we didn't already know about him - he's confident, white, newly changed, feeling powerful, and he didn't have a proper teacher."

"I say it's a female."

Kalen balked. "You're serious?"

"Yeah. I'll bet you a box of those cigars."

"I thought you rarely smoke?"

"Cuban cigars - that's something I can use in barter for favors, Kalen. You in?"

"And if you lose?"

Reno shrugged with a slight grin. He gave a tug at his suit blazer and brushed away a spot of moisture, spray-back from washing his car, then gestured to the Chevelle. "I'll let you decide. C'mon." He slid into the driver side of his car, pulled the door shut and started the engine. "Is it always this cool this time of year? I seem to remember August being distinctly hotter twenty-five years ago. This feels more like autumn weather."

"The Jetstream over the Atlantic was changed after the American coast ripped away in 2025, Reno. Get used to it. It's been known to snow in San Francisco every now and then."

"That's going to take a little time getting used to."

"You think this vampire is watching us right now?"

"I do. That's why I chose right now to wash the car. So she can see that it's not going to stop me."

"Oh?"

Reno eased the shifter into gear and pulled out of the car wash. "I want them to profile me. I want them to feel confident. Then I'll do something extremely out of character and catch them off guard. Let them think I'm one kind of person, then show them they're wrong."

"What makes you think all these things? Where's your proof? Is this how you did police work before your powers?"

Reno sighed. "If I tell you, I won't get the cigars."

Kalen looked around. First he behind them, then left and right. "Okay, where is she?"

"Cigars?"

"Fine. Where is she?"

"She's been following us on-and-off since the incident with the overpass. She's a lousy tail. Average build, average face, nothing really remarkable about her, except that's she's remarkably unremarkable. Our plain-Jane drives a Buick. I recognize the logo, just not the year model. What is it with bad guys and Buicks?"

"Excuse me? I drive a Buick, Reno. I invested in the brand in the early 1900s, and have driven one ever since."

"One of George Zukis' men drove a Buick Lucerne and I buried his face in it. It was right after I got my powers. The night I met up with Topaz in front of some diner in ... Millbrae, I think. It was a long time ago."

"I recall hearing about that incident."

"Oh?" Nevada stole a glance at Kalen. "How so?"

"The Esoteric Council was defunct, and you were one of the first people to use your abilities publically. The remainder of the community was aghast. They thought you were some sort of wild man, dealing out some sort of Wild West vigilante justice. When you teamed up with Karla, the survivors all groaned and figured you would just get worse and more ... shall we say ... 'public' with your abilities. And then you went in front of news cameras several times with Evan, parading around as a superhero."

"I got better with that after I figured out how to control them."

"Your friend, Wilfred, dislikes the word 'got.' Just reminding you." Kalen continued to look around, trying to spot the female vampire tailing them.

Reno ignored Kalen's sense of humor and asked, "So what model and year is that Buick that just pulled into traffic behind us?"

Kalen glanced over his shoulder. Three cars back, a '44 Buick sedan followed them. "Looks like a six-year-old Electra Super."

"Super what?"

"Electra model, with the _Super_trim and engine package, Reno. Buick brought back the Electra at the beginning of the forties. The Super is a sport model with all the trim. Brown haired female is at the wheel. She's got her hands up high, at the eleven-and-one position but I can't get a good look at her face. She's too far back."

"Cigars?"

"If she's our killer, then yes."

Reno grinned. "Good."

X

X

Saturday, August 14 - 2pm PDT Washington State ...

Nikki folded her arms. A young man, mid-to-late twenties, sank to his knees, panting softly. He grimaced in pain with claw slashes across his back, shoulders, and arms. His t-shirt clung by the collar but was otherwise in tatters.

She stood in an abandoned corner store of an old town, suddenly aware of the exact time and date, down to the very second. It was an odd sensation - to conceive time in such a fashion ... to feel it.

Nichole looked up at the group of upstanding tigers around her, then she smiled back down at the human man on his knees. She gave a tug at the large hoodie, which came to her lower thighs. "This will do nicely. Rufus is close to finding the werewolf community."

One of the tigers snarled his way into a question. "He doesn't suspect you? Where does he think you are now, since you cannot maintain a werewolf form without him nearby?"

"He's drunk. He's laid out on the bed at the motel."

The tiger folded his arms, matching her stance. "Why haven't we heard of you or the people you work for until now?"

"Dr. Falcon kept me in stasis except when he needed me. It was easier on me. For some reason, the equipment malfunctions. I cannot go back into stasis. I have too much free time on my hands. Working with your group is a productive use of my time. You bringing me people with abilities? Well, that's just a bonus."

"Our sources say you live to steal the abilities of people who are compatible with you. Was this man compatible?"

"Yes," she said, placing her human palm against the injured man's forehead. "I've left a trail of bodies across the country in the last two weeks. I can't stop myself. This is why I needed to be in stasis. I have an addiction."

"Mm. We're only happy to feed your addiction, Ms. Parker. We'll find you 'snacks' but you will help us find that village soon."

Nichole moved around behind the nearly-catatonic man on his knees. She kept her hands on his head. He collapsed to the ground, turning blue in the lips. His body convulsed for a moment then grew still. "I broke down the blood cells in his heart. I broke down the base molecules, causing his heart to run dry. I promise you he suffered. His heart stopped beating, but he's still conscious right now ... listening. Dying. Imagine the worst, most painful heart attack - compound that with the worst migraine. I imagine he would feel cold, too. Not for much longer, though, I suppose."

The lead cat of the group sneered in disgust. "What ability did you take from him?"

"Nothing impressive," she admitted with a sour expression. "I can feel the passing of time. It would be better if I could control it but, at the very least, I can feel the time and date. This is more of a curse than an ability, because now I'm acutely aware of the moments that pass. It's bad enough I feel unproductive when sitting in a holding pattern. Now I'll have to count the seconds I'm with Rufus. But..."

The tiger approached with a smirk, stroking his orange-furred maw. "But you couldn't pass up another power, could you? You needed it even though it's not one you will enjoy."

"I'll find a way to repress it," she muttered. "Yes, I needed it. I know I have a problem."

"An addiction," he corrected.

She turned directly to face the leader of the pack. "What's your name?"

"Jack Winston the third. You can call me Jackson."

"Mm, Dr. Falcon's chosen middle name is Jackson. Very well, Jackson. Do you trust me?"

"It would be easier if we could track you."

She folded her arms. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

"Trust is important in a partnership," he said. "What's your secret?"

"I was tricked recently. I've been tagged with a radioisotope. When I went home, they told me I had to leave for a while to throw our enemies off course. So I've been wondering. However, I've discovered the frequency of this isotope, and you could use it to track my progress with the werewolf. I'll give you the frequency; you keep bringing me supernatural people to sate my appetite for power."

Jackson leaned down over the body and studied it. He moved down to one knee and leaned in closer, After a moment he glanced back up at her, and then picked up the body. He hefted the dead man over his shoulder and stood up. "I'll dump him in Puget Sound. You go back to Rufus and remain in a werewolf form. Tell him you can't transform back - that you're stuck."

"I've already told him that. He believes me."

"Very well. He believed you?"

"Yes."

Jackson looked down his nose at her. "How have you kept his trust thusfar?"

"I've been fucking him."

"Whore."

"Whores get paid."

Jackson canted his head, nodding to the body on his shoulder. "You are. I can't trust a woman who uses her body to get what she wants out of men. You are the ultimate betrayer."

"Mind your own business. Do we have a deal or not?"

"Absolutely," said Jackson. "I'll call the boss. We'll work with you. But do not offer to sleep with any of my people, do you understand?"

She narrowed her gaze. "I could kill all of you in seconds by taking the oxygen from your lungs. I could turn this whole room into a vacuum. Do not disrespect me."

"Do you understand my term? Do not sleep with my people."

"I don't even want to fuck Rufus. I'm doing it because I don't know any other way to make sure he continues to trust me. Mind your own business. And do not disrespect me. I do what I have to, to get the job done. He's an animal. Animals live by instinct and sex. So I've chosen this as my..."

"I don't want to hear about your escapades, or your excuses, Nichole. We'll be in touch." Jackson turned away with the body on his shoulder, gestured to the other tigers in the area and left the abandoned corner building of the small, old town.

Nichole approached a tinted window, leaning her head against a 'For Lease' sign with a sigh.

X

X

Saturday, August 14 - 10pm Leeds Bradford International Airport, England ...

Conner froze, hearing his name. He turned around, facing away from the privately chartered leer jet and reached behind himself. He unzipped the top of his canvas case and closed his fingers around the top of the hooked cane within.

An older man, roughly late forties or early fifties, walked across the tarmac. Again, the man called out, "Conner Parker...?"

"Who's asking?"

The man approached, wearing a windbreaker and dark slacks. He had his hands out to the side to show he was unarmed. "I'm Joe Pendleton Senior. I believe you met my son."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"So you're the kid who put Joe Junior in the hospital, huh? Impressive."

"Are you here to try and explain how he has a lot of growing up to do, and give me the 'boys will be boys' speech?"

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" Joe called back, speaking over the ambient noise of airplane engines. "No, Conner. I'm extending an olive branch. Jon and I never saw eye to eye. He cut me out of the family and I took it personally. We stole from each other a few times over the years. Nothing of value; it was a matter of bragging rights. But he cut me out of the family ... and when I came of age, he never allowed me to know how to get to the family hub, out in the Pacific."

"Something tells me your son is just like you were. And if that's the case, Mr. Pendleton, then my grandfather made a good decision."

"Joey is a momma's boy. Every Sunday he has brunch with my wife, and all this other crap. She showers him with too much attention. It makes him soft. Maybe that softness is why you kicked his ass. And, hey, I appreciate you didn't do anything worse. The kid can still heal up and run high wires with a slashed hamstring. Hell, it'll be easier for him to do splits, now. But I wanted to know why you came to see him today."

Conner sighed. He released the hooked cane, leaving it in his shoulder case. He approached the older man and folded his arms. "I'm in over my head."

"Against who? My son isn't a pushover. Sure, he loves his tea time with his mum, but he's impressive."

"Yeah, your kid can fight. But that wasn't what I'm talking about. There's this guy who hunted supernatural people. I don't know all the details but he killed people all over the world, including my grandfather, my parents - everyone. He stole their powers somehow and can use them back on us. His name is Aris Falcon and he's got my sister and immediately family in stasis. So I'm looking for people with abilities. I'm putting together a team to go down to Falcon's place and stomp his ass. But..."

"...You're in over your head," Pendleton concluded aloud.

"Exactly. I came to ask your son if he'd reconsider being a douchebag to join the 'super friends', so to speak. He was a bit of a dick."

"Childish," Joseph corrected. "My son was being childish. There is a difference."

"He shot his gun at me," Conner said. "And I'm the last one left who knows how to get to that vault. What would've happened if he killed me? You'd never find it. So, let's face facts, he's impetuous. I don't want him on the team."

"How about someone more refined, like myself? I'm your second cousin, Conner."

"And what do you get out of the deal? You're putting your life at risk, and will probably die just like everyone else. So why would you risk your own ass? Because that was Joe Junior's big concern."

"I'm not some bloke, son. I'm family. Now, I'm not asking for you and my son to be best mates or what-have-you. I understand you two are on the outs. I'm just asking if you need help."

Conner made eye contact. He wanted to see the man blink. "What's your price?"

"I don't want the Pendleton family to be on the outs with the Parker family anymore. I haven't seen someone with supernatural abilities since I was young. My father was put to death by the Esoteric Council. But the Justiciar who made the final judgment was an American named Reinhardt St. Leonard."

"Yeah? And?"

Joseph Senior frowned. "Apparently that man was behind the attacks in 2023. So he betrayed his race. To me, that reflects on his judgments as a Justiciar. That means my father wasn't so bad after all."

Conner lowered his gaze then lifted it, studying the man's posture. "You want to redeem the family name, is that it? Show people that the Pendleton's aren't so bad after all?"

"Oi, you get me! That's exactly what I'm saying."

Conner brought his left hand up and rubbed his face. "Look, you steal from people for your own gain, correct?"

"I don't whore my services out to anyone that wants to break into the Louvre. I provide for my family. I run a clean..."

"You're organized crime, man."

"We're both criminals. I'm just a darker shade of grey, Conner."

"Let me guess, you keep the Aston Martin in the garage, and prefer to drive the Jaguar, am I right?"

"Why put miles and tarnish on the Royal Crown Jewels, when you can wear a perfectly suitable crown the rest of the time? I also have an expensive wedding ring I wear for special occasions, but typically I wear this." He lifted his left hand, showing a plain gold band. "This is a status symbol, but I keep the one that is indicative of my wealth put away for special occasions."

"Why do British bad guys always drive a Jag, man? Look, I'm not interested in your help right now. You and your son both want the same thing - access to the vault. I'm not sure you guys are responsible enough to handle what's out there. I tried to explain this to him, but it didn't get through his thick head."

Joseph looked around the tarmac. "Zip up the case for your little toy, chap - I'm not fighting you in public. I won't talk my son out of trying to work out his differences with you."

"By working out our differences, do you mean fighting and shooting?"

"If that's his way. That's his mistake to learn. But I won't fight you. I'd rather prove you wrong and show you that I'm interested in reuniting the family beneath one banner."

"Are you any good?"

"In a fight?" Joseph grinned. "I can hold my own. I'm nowhere near the caliber of fighting that Jonathan instilled in his children. The daughter, Topaz - she was a very, very impressive girl. Am I to understand she trained you to be better than her?"

"I'm fifteen. There's no way I could beat her yet. But I could show your kid a trick or two."

"Obviously. Listen, Conner, I could not hope to beat you in a fair fight, but when you're fighting for your life, fighting fair goes out the window. So don't expect my son to fight fair. Expect him to fight tooth and nail."

"You're warning me to watch out for him?"

"I can't reunite the family if you're dead, mate. You're Topaz's son."

"I'm surprised you're not going after James. He's Jonathan's son." Conner snapped his fingers and tilted his head. In a sarcastic tone, he said, "Oh, right, James doesn't have direct access to the vault! So reuniting the family is just bullshit - you want to manipulate me into accessing the vault. How about ... no. Start your own vault. Put whatever you want in it. Have a secret base and a space shuttle named Moonraker. I don't give a shit."

"You're a bloody smart-arse, aren't you? Fine. I'll ask again when you've finished rescuing your family. But, in the meantime, I'll tell my men to leave you be if you pass through the area. What my son does is between you and him, but I won't allow you to be attacked by anyone under my employ. You and I can work out our differences at a later time. Is that satisfactory?"

"There was a certain Egyptian headdress I wanted. Your son is protecting the owner. You help me get it, I'll consider us in good standing."

"Why?"

Conner frowned. "A legitimate Egyptian goddess apparently requires it. I'm supposed to bring it to her or something."

"You don't sound convinced of your own mission, Conner."

"It's weird. But I don't question the woman who gave me the job. She's trustworthy."

"I won't simply give it to you, but ... let's say I arrange for you to be able to steal it for yourself. Would that be an amenable compromise?"

"That could work. What's in it for you?"

"A piece of orichalcum."

Conner blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The metal your cane is made from. My father has been to the vault, when he was young. He was given the history tour, and took the Master trials. If I'm to start my own vault, I want a piece of orichalcum for my collection, Conner."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

Joseph held his hands outwards and smiled. "What if something happened to your vault? What if Aris Falcon found it and destroyed it or what if you and James wind up dead? The rarest metal on Earth would be lost forever. I'm only asking for one piece. You suggested I started my own vault, with my own collection. I'm trading you one piece of orichalcum for the right to earn the headdress of Hathor."

"I feel like I'm making a deal with the devil but the metal is harmless, just ... priceless. Fine. But only on one condition."

"Everything we've mentioned has been a condition so far. Go ahead, add another layer to our negotiations."

"You cannot have your vault located anywhere near or on a continent. It has to be secluded, and away from the rest of the world. Safe from the public, so to speak. You need to be responsible with what you're putting in it. We're not stealing things for fun; we can't spend what we take. We can't use it, invest it, or get interest on it, which I explained to your son. We're safeguarding it to keep the economy in check."

"The economy tanked after the quake of 2025, mate. Gold and precious metals are the only thing worth a damn anymore. And you're sitting on enough gold to make an entire city, enough silver to pave every street, and enough platinum to supply the industrial world with drill bits for a lifetime."

"Yeah, that's the point. If the world had access to it, nothing would have value anymore."

"If a Government had it, the Government would control its value, Conner. And the Governing body would create its own economy, put the people to work, and create worth and value. You don't sit on it, you invest it back into a proper..."

"Let's agree to disagree. Start your own government with whatever you steal, Mr. Pendleton. Is there anything else?"

"How should I contact you when we're ready to make our trade?"

"What is it that you're trading?"

"I'll tell you when and where the piece is being moved, so that you can steal it the old fashion way. It won't be easy but I'll give you all the proof you need, and even let you see it, so you can case your heist. After you see it and you confirm its authenticity, you give me the orichalcum for my collection. I take my leave, and that night, you work your job and take the headdress. If you don't give me what I want, I will make sure I leave with the headdress, personally, and you won't find it. My only stipulation is that you do not implicate me. My family is hired to keep it safe."

"We'll talk again soon." Conner turned for the plane. He took the stairs two at a time and was greeted by a flight attendant at the top of the steps. Conner turned around and shouted back down to Pendleton Sr., "You have my number on the cardstock in your inside blazer pocket."

"Do I?" he called back and checked his blazer. He checked the left inside pocket first, then the right side and found the card stock. "We never even shook hands. When did you...?"

"My secret," said Conner with a smile. He stepped back inside the leer jet.

"Right then. Cheers."

X

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Next Chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/751717