Night Games Pt. 20

"My girlfriend's run off with my car. And gone back to her ma and pa.

Telling tales of drunkenness and cruelty.

And now I'm sittin' here. Sippin' at my ice-cold beer.

Lazin' on a sunny afternoon."

-The Kinks, "Sunny Afternoon"

*

Diamond mogul Johannes Pretorius's plane wasn't due to land in San Finzione until later that evening. His meeting with Tracy Baker to make the exchange for the Star of Uongo was set for midnight.

"Why do criminals always do stuff at midnight?" Susan Bailey asked Tracy on their ride in Contessa Helena de San Finzione's limousine on their trip back to Castle Finzione. The others had left Helen and Nigel Mander alone to meet with Baker's Half-Dozen before remembering that they'd come in Helen's limo, and she was their ride back.

"Because it's dramatic." Tracy and Helen replied simultaneously. Tracy continued. "Why do you think we went for eleven? Because you'd have expected us at midnight. Most professionals strike about 3 AM, because in many cities, that's when the police are busy changing shifts." She turned to Helen. "I imagine that's why La Policia change shifts at two."

"It is." Helen agreed. "Since they weren't a worry for you, why not go for the dramatic? And then, why not change your mind because you'd know I'd expect it."

Tracy clasped her hands.

"Well, I can understand that with all those people to coordinate back at the base, there wasn't time for proper introductions." She looked around the car at everyone. "You can only be the Troy mentioned in the letter, and anyone who's seen an interview with La Contessa in the last couple years where the subject of art comes up has heard of Julie Equals." She turned to Susan. "You and Spencer seem to have gotten on well, Susan. And from the way the four of you are seated, I presume you're the unnamed third party in the letter."

"And you've been the focus of all of our attention since we got here, Tracy." Susan pointed out. "So, of course, we all know you."

"I'm sure Con-Hel's got detailed files on me by now." She replied. The mention of the name the Media had given Helen when she'd created a stir to kill a story and they'd grown weary of saying her full name and title all day elicited a groan from everyone in the vehicle. Scappa, La Contessa's driver, quietly rolled his eyes and continued driving.

"If you didn't pick up on THAT, Tracy." Helen informed her. "We're all sick of that name. Quite frankly, I thought it was a tabloid thing that real people didn't actually say. It makes me sound like the no-budget direct-to-video sequel to 'Con Air'."

"I like your other response, Helen." Troy added. "The one about being from the part of Superman's family that the Els don't talk about."

Tracy looked past them, out the back window, at the two SUVs that contained the rest of her team. The group of criminals she'd brought together to rob Castle Finzione and whom Helen had given the name Baker's Half-Dozen. La Contessa had been treating them more cordially since Tracy had called her on overplaying the "you stole from me, and now I hold the power of life and death over you" card. Although the atmosphere in the car was that they were past that, Tracy still had the feeling that, at any moment, Helen could press a button and the vehicles would explode. Since Nigel Mander had chosen to ride with Oscar Dodge so he could have a few words with the legendary criminal, she felt that vehicle was safer.

"Well, I certainly apologize." She told them. "I'll do better." She turned to Helen. "On the note of the press, I imagine there hasn't been much about our activities. Especially since you control them as well."

"I game the media," Helen corrected. "But if I controlled them, do you think they'd say half the things they say about me? They bought the 'guards slipped on a waxed floor' line, so we didn't push it any further. Everything else you've done has been classified."

"But what about the gunshots on La Collina?" Tracy asked. "And everything that happened on the docks? How will you explain all that?"

"Top local news this morning was about how last night, some dumbass decided 'on my boat in the harbor' was the best place to cook meth, and it exploded. Where's the dumbass and the boat now? Blew up, didn't you hear the explosion? In other news, San Finzione Studios has issued a public apology for the clerical error that caused them to fail to get proper clearances for a night shoot on La Collina or notifying the residents that there'd be gunfire. I'll fine the studio something, then I'll pay it, and that'll be it."

"So, what happens now?" Tracy asked. Troy looked at his watch.

"Now, it's almost noon." He replied. "And La Contessa needs a couple hours of real sleep." Troy turned to address the objection he knew was forming on Helen's face. "Especially since she's committing to another late night. And nothing's going to happen today between 12 and 2 in San Finzione. And nobody's going to boost her again until she gets some actual rest."

The objection manifested as a soft pout.

"Ok," Helen agreed, leaning toward him until her head was resting on his shoulder. "But you know I rest better if I'm snuggling you."

Julie had something to say to that.

"Rest, Helena. Not dick."

"It can be two things. Works better that way." Helen pointed out.

Susan nudged Julie.

"Now that she's brought it up, it's the only way we'll get her to do it."

"Ok." Julie agreed. She turned to see that Tracy had been observing them silently. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, no." Tracy answered. "I've just never seen a polycule like yours in action. It's quite lovely."

"We all like it. In Seattle, when people find out that Susan's part of our marriage, there are all these questions. Yes, my husband knows. Yes, he's ok with it. Yes, I'm ok with the two of them, too."

"Here," Susan added. "People just say 'Oh, they have a French arrangement,' and that's it."

"And what's to be done with us while La Contessa gets her... rest and such?"

"That," Julie volunteered. "Leaves you in our hands." She took Susan's hand for emphasis. "And Mander's too, I'd guess. Since it looks like we're working together on this, while they're doing that, we'll be getting to know you better."

The two of them looked over at Helen and Troy. Helen still had her head rested on Troy's shoulder, but her eyes had closed. A few seconds passed until the limo hit a bump large enough to wake her up.

"Hmm?" Helen hmmed, only half paying attention before unconsciousness had started to take over. "Yeah, they'll take care of you."

She closed her eyes again and the limo drove on to the castle, leaving Tracy to ponder what "take care of you" meant.

* * *

While La Contessa received her rest and such, Julie, Susan, and Mander saw to Baker's Half-Dozen in the castle's library. Because Jeanne was still busy helping Maria, Nunzio pushed her beverage cart into the room and was serving drinks.

Julie sat with Gordon Walker, whose crutches were leaning against the table next to him. Morris Sinclair sat in the seat between them.

"I wasn't expecting Systema." Julie told him.

"I wasn't expecting Fairbairn." Gordon replied. He gave her a look that said, "When I'm better, we're going again." Julie responded with a look that answered "Absofuckinglutely."

Over at another table, Mander and Susan sat with the rest of the group. Susan broke away from her discussion with Spencer Malone about how people who use the word "woke" to describe science fiction can just stop talking right there because their message of "I'm a backwards ignorant asshole with no idea how science fiction works" has been sufficiently conveyed. She stood up to address the room.

"Ok, everyone." She told Baker's Half-Dozen. "You've had your drinks. La Contessa would want us to see to that. Being a good host is very important in this country. I understand some of you are going to be important to what she has planned tonight. I don't know what she has in mind for you after that. I can tell you that how smoothly things go tonight and how well you do will be a big part of her decision."

Julie agreed with her statement and stood to stand next to Susan.

"So far, you have three things working in your favor with Helena. You're smart, you're good at what you do, and you didn't seriously hurt my husband or anyone else in San Finzione. You shot her, and that'll probably come back to you at some point. She is giving you all a chance. And if any of you try to run or fuck her over, you know she'll catch you again. And how many chances do you think she'll give you then? How do you think your behavior will affect her judgment on the ones you leave behind?"

The crew looked around at each other. Julie continued.

"And yes, right now she's asleep and/or fucking my husband. I don't think I have to tell you what'll happen if any of you try to pull something on one of us while that's going on. We seem to have a nice 'nobody's fucking with anyone else' thing going on, and Helena would want us to keep that up."

Julie turned back to Susan to wrap up.

"She'd also want us to make this time productive. And she left us here because she knows helping people is what I do. It sounds like she wants your help taking Johannes Pretorius down, so I'm going to help her with that. Tracy, I know you and she talked about the meet, but all of weren't there for that. So, tell us now, and let's see what we all can do."

Susan gestured to Tracy, indicating that it was her turn to stand. She and Julie took their seats again.

"Pretorius is landing at Augustus de San Finzione International Airport at 11:30 tonight. His private jet is making a refueling stop on the way back to Johannesburg from something in Antwerp. He's not even getting out of the plane. They'll pull into his private hangar, where I'm to meet him. I'll come aboard, show him the stone, and he'll transfer the money. Spencer will be monitoring the electronic end to make sure everything goes smoothly there. Then I leave and he takes off back to South Africa."

Julie had a question.

"And what's to stop him from shooting you in the head, dumping your body on the tarmac, and taking off with the money and the Star and never coming back to San Finzione?"

"Well, the protection I'd planned to bring along is on crutches now. So, it's just a risk I'm going to have to take. Generally speaking, if a rich asshole is willing to pay this much for a valuable stolen item, he'll one day want another that badly. And remembering my phone number is far easier than putting together another crew who'll trust him after word hits The Street that I died pulling a job for him."

"This sounds like the kind of guy who gets blinded by greed." Julie thought aloud. "He might not be thinking as far ahead as you."

"And I'm too well-known in Africa to back ya up." Mander pointed out. "Chances are you lot ain't the only criminals in his employ. And he'll have his own protection. One of them recognizes me and this could all go bad fast."

Mander had been seated next to Oscar, who looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, did someone with that big, beautiful, bald head of a canvas to work with say they're worried about being recognized?" He turned to Julie and Susan. "If the cops haven't seized my makeup kit off the boat, I'll need it."

Susan nodded and turned to Nunzio, who did the same in reply to her look. She took out her phone and set it on the table.

"You were arrested by the Ultimados, not La Policia, so they've got your stuff. I'm sure the Generalissimo will release whatever you need if I tell him it's for Helen's plan. Spencer, I imagine you'll need your computer, too. That should be no problem either. And Nunzio knows the city and getting stuff for Helen is what he does." Franz Hauber looked up at her hopefully. "Your drugs are going to be a hard sell. Let's stick to things pertaining to the job at hand."

Julie had another thought to add to the discussion.

"If we had some way to delay him, that'd give Helena more time to do what she's got planned. Can we put sugar in his gas tank or something?"

Alice had the answer to that.

"That doesn't work as well anymore. Modern vehicles have fuel filters. And sugar and jet fuel? All you'd do is create a sludge at the bottom of the tank, maybe screw up their gas mileage a bit, and make life difficult for some future mechanic. No, the best way to stop him in that department would be for someone to interfere with the process."

"That sounds like the sort of thing Morris can do." Tracy pointed out. "Franz can talk him through any difficulties over comms. I think La Contessa has her own ideas for stopping the plane. She can always just call the control tower and tell them not to let him take off, but I suspect she wants something grander than a bureaucratic hiccup. Remember who we're talking about. She'll require something more theatrical."

"You're right." Susan agreed. "She'd say it would lack poetry. As for the stone itself, Helen's got it locked in the vault and there's no way she's letting it out again, no matter how safe we make it. This would be where I turn things over to Julie."

Julie reached under the table and took out a presentation box identical to the one the Star of Uongo was in when it was initially shown to Helen.

"Helena had me working on two art projects yesterday. The smaller job was the necklace you took. The larger one was this." She opened the box to reveal a duplicate of the Star of Uongo. "Her Plan B if we didn't get the real one back from you in time. She likes the President, did something I know she'll feel bad about forever, and didn't want to do him like that a second time, but she was ready to if you made her."

Julie set the box on the table in front of her. Tracy, Morris, and Alice walked over to examine it.

"It's a good forgery." Tracy admitted.

"Good enough to have fooled the President," Morris pointed out. "But now it's got to fool a diamond expert."

"Which it won't." Alice added. "Diamond and cubic zirconia have different refractive indexes. He's going to take it out of the box and look at it in the light, and then he'll know." She took the stone out of the box and held it up to a reading lamp at the table to illustrate her point. Orange and blue light shone through it. "With a real diamond, we'd be seeing a rainbow of colors. Zirconia is also heavier than diamond; he'll know how much a stone this size should weigh and might sense that it's off."

"I'm guessing you worked from photos, Julie." Tracy continued. "Yes, he'll want to examine it before he transfers the money and it won't pass his examination. Helena means to catch him in the act of buying the stolen diamond, and that's where the 'we get to keep the money' part comes in. So, we need a reason for him to make the transfer before he gets that good a look at the diamond."

Susan thought on that.

"So, you've got to get him to hit send first. Is there some way to do that?"

"If one of you mind controllers were aboard, that'd be the easiest way." Tracy pointed out. "But something tells me Helena's not going to risk any of you a second time." She eyed Spencer. "I think I've got a way to set things up."

Susan picked up her phone and brought up the Generalissimo's number.

"Ok," She told them, dialing. "We have the beginnings of a plan. Something to show Helen when she wakes up to let her know you're all taking this seriously. And we've got to have it all ready for tonight. So, let's get started."

* * *

Tires squealed as Johannes Pretorius' Gulfstream G700 touched down on the runway of Augustus de San Finzione International Airport. The pilot brought the plane to a stop, then taxied over to Pretorius' private hangar, where Tracy and Mander stood waiting.

"How'm I holding up?" Mander asked Tracy.

"You look like a completely different man." Tracy assured him. "Who still manages to tower over the room even in an aircraft hangar."

Mander's reply was drowned out by the Gulfstream's engines as the pilot backed it into the hangar. They looked at the two mechanics standing across the room from them. Their conversation across the hangar wasn't audible before the jet entered the room, but the gist they'd gotten from it was that they were discussing why the fuel truck was late.

The plane came to a stop. A few moments later, the door opened, and a set of steps came down. Tracy and Mander watched the giant hangar door close, then walked to the stairs, where he motioned for her to go first. Tracy ascended the steps and entered the luxury aircraft. Mander followed and a servant escorted them to the front of the plane, where Pretorius' office had been set up.

Four men in suits and carrying baseball bats stood at the corners of a room appointed in gold leaf. One wall of the room was lined with a bookshelf filled with classic literature with completely undamaged spines, which told Tracy they'd never been opened.

From behind the oak desk facing them, Johannes Pretorius stood, his pinky ring shining under the bright lights of the room. He strode to the center of the room, an expectant grin on his face.

"Ah, Tracy." He remarked, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. "I was expecting Mr. Walker to be your accompaniment on this trip. The fact that you've come tells me that you've got something for me."

"I do." Tracy agreed. "And Gordon couldn't make it. The President's guards are tougher than I imagined. He barely got out, and he's laid up waiting for me to do this so we can get out of this country." She gestured to Mander. "This is Mr. Daltrey, whose talents at his job as just as good as Gordon's if you've got any ideas."

"And I'm sure my four men will be more than a match for him if you have anything sneaky in mind. I'm also not planning on doing any sightseeing, so let's do this. The Star of Uongo, please."

Tracy raised a finger.

"Ah, but you need me to enter my account number first so the transaction will go through. So, since this is all honest and aboveboard, you'll have no problem letting me see it."

Pretorius looked upset that he was being challenged, then a peaceful look came over his face.

"Of course, Tracy. This is not the movies. We all have protection, but no one is planning a burn here." He turned the laptop on the desk to face her. Tracy could see that the screen was open to the page of a bank in the Cayman Islands. A request for a transfer of thirty million euros was on the screen, awaiting her account number and for Pretorius to click Send. He gave Tracy a polite "after you" gesture and stepped aside. She walked up to the laptop and typed in the recipient's account number. As she did, she slipped a small receiver into one of the laptop's USB slots. She gave a fake cough, which covered the noise the computer made to indicate that a new device had been plugged in.

"There!" She said with a sweet smile to distract him from the New Device Detected alert that appeared in the corner of the screen for a few seconds. She put a little extra wiggle in her walk so he'd be looking at her ass rather than the message. By the time she returned to her spot next to Mander, it was gone.

"And now," Pretorius said, tiny beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. "It's time to add the Star of Uongo to my collection."

Tracy nodded and reached into her purse.

"Your men are carrying clubs, not guns." She observed. "More practical inside an airplane. Here it is. Morris even nicked the box in which the President was going to give it to La Contessa. That alone could be worth something."

She handed the box to Johannes. He took hold and opened it reverently. The two watched him stare in awe for a moment, then reach in to take it out of the box and hold it up to the light. Mander reached into his pocket, and as soon as Pretorius touched the fake diamond, Tracy and Mander closed their eyes.