By Thursday at 2:37am, the week had not been a bad one, relatively speaking, for Joel Nicolosi. Behind him, the chassis of Sioâs Corvette was mostly completed, thought the untouched body still occupied his lift. The suspension, new engine and transmission were assembled, but not quite complete which was considerably more progress than he thought heâd make in such a short time though it was usually much easier to strip and replace than to repair. In his living room a certain gift from Marlinâs grandfather occupied a nice place next to his painting of Senna at Monaco. Heâd had the signed note framed as well to accompany it. The small lighter and the scale model both occupied a handsome space on the desk area of his massive toolbox. He grinned thinking about holding the wheel in his hands the same way as his idol. The small package was the most thoughtful gift he received in years and it took a lot to impress him. He had some ideas in his head on a classy thank-you note that he could write to the old man.
The kerosene powered space-heater blasted along happily behind him keeping the shop at a tolerable temperature with a loud roar and Joel sat in a lawn chair watching the first snow begin to fall and coat the road. He never cared much for the winter months, but the scene was nice. Every once in a while a car would pass and the light coming out of the shop would cast a shadow behind the car as he saw his reflection in the glare of the passing window. It was too cold for the guys at the fabric mill to walk to work so he had mostly sat alone reading emails and listening to his regular late night programming while the news broke in at the top and bottom of the hour with the continuing forecast of impending doom for all in the City. He yawned. The shop was getting crowded behind him and he was curious about either buying another shipping container and paying a company to fab them together or building an addition to the shop. With his newest acquisition from Japan, he only had just enough room to work on Sioâs car and had to be careful about where he put things to save space. He replied to a few estimates and scrolled on.
Sitting next to his chair were two cans of Rebellion energy drinks which had fueled the majority of his evening. Heâd only drank them occasionally before, preferring Red Bull, but the new orange ones they were pushing were rather tasty and addictive. His meeting with the Operations Director for the rally-team had gone well and they had a date set for him to meet the rest of the team and drive a few rounds on the practice stage they had set up at Mount Atlas. Starting at the Observatory, the course wound down and around the mountain switching from the paved roadway to the zig-zagging hydra of old, dirt logging trails that ended in a close dash by the Lake and the old Hunter Lumber Mill. The Director sent over a video of the stage for him to study as well several cases of drinks and a big box of t-shirts, sweatshirts and other merchandise. He saved the girlsâ stuff for Sio and sent two of the British themed, energy shots to Marlin as a gag. The flavor title Within Treason featured the logo, âRâ over a Revolution-era American flag. He grinned, sometimes he just couldnât help himself.
Thinking about the ladies was always nice. Being on less awkward terms with Marlin was good and meeting Dustynn had been a decent surprise as well, though he could tell she wasnât exactly the type to bring back home to mom and dad. Marlin fit that bill a little too closely and he was glad his mother hadnât really had a chance to meet her or he never would have heard the end of it. Sheâd only seen the pictures and he was swiftly able to talk around her probing questions. No, Sio was becoming the most involved heâd been in a while. She was young, but she at least liked to challenge him some; though he could tell when she was full of shit and didnât know it. It was still fun. He took another long swig from the remainder of the can seeing the newspaper carrierâs car come around the corner up the street and decided to mess with her some. He took a picture of her chassis sitting on its new wheels and tires so that it was painfully obvious heâd done some major work without her being there.
I got back tonight and it looked like this, not sure what happened
He was sure she was most likely asleep and laughed his ass off as he hit send.
Paige plopped a bag of buy-one get one burger specials on the slick metal table and tossed the handcuff keys into CTâs lap. The orange-jumpsuit clad computer hacker exhaled a breath of thankful astonishment and quickly fumbled with the key before vigorously tearing into the bag. âThese are from the same diner?!â He questioned anxiously pulling the paper wrapping away and taking a very large bite. He leaned back and chewed happily rocking in place as his jaws worked through the massive chunk of greasy delight heâd bitten away. âOh my GodâŠâ He proclaimed, still chewing on a mouthful. âYou are the best⊠the food here is shit.â She handed him a large soda to wash it down and took a seat across from him. He immediately sucked down several gulps and for a few moments the small conference cell in SCPD headquarters was quiet save for CTâs voracious eating.
She didnât need to check the clock again. Sheâd already looked several times before entering the room. The weather outside was shit and turning worse by the moment. If she didnât get out of downtown soon, she knew she would likely be spending her day at City Hall for at least as long as it would take for Milo to come pick her up, if he could make it, in which case if he couldnât, she would be spending her night at City Hall on a rock-hard bench in the courtroom. Fuck that. Uncle Sam had thankfully seen fit to at least supply her with a nice four-wheel drive Suburban, not that it would do a lot of good. According to the weather, nothing short of a tank would be suitable once the storm set in fully. Still, being from Florida, she hadnât done too badly driving in and only had to lay on the horn one time when someone refused to let her cut them off at the ramp coming from the freeway.
Putting a cup of coffee down in front of her, also from the same diner across from Club Aether, Paige retrieved a small folded paper from the inside of her jacket pocket and placed it on the table as well. She let him enjoy his meal a bit longer and savored the warmth of the room. Still only being a few weeks into Sol, she wasnât adjusted to the cold and kept her headband on while inside.
âSo, you won anything yet?â CT asked. He had already completely scarfed one burger and was licking his fingers before lining up another one.
âMaybeâŠâ Paige said looking him in the eyes. Unlike when she glared at him before, he seemed intrigued and accepted the small piece of folded printer-paper with one hand while holding his second burger in the other. Taking a bite, he unfolded the note and started reading. Paige watched as his mouth stopped while his eyes narrowed and continued to scan.
<2shad4u>>> online <jackal1>>> online
<2shad4u>: been watching the wires out of Sol lately?
<jackal1>: just had that race, nothing special
<2shad4u>: sure about that?
<jackal1>: chump change
<2shad4u>: look at this one <2shad4u>>> file uploaded.
<jackal1>: little fish gotta eat too <jackal1>: what's the container traffic like?
<2shad4u>: way up, airways up too <2shad4u>: for winter <2shad4u>: place is crawling with federals though
<jackal1>: i knew thats where you were going
<2shad4u>: art expo coming up too <2shad4u>: easy money
<jackal1>: better be careful <jackal1>: detroit took a swing at a federal <jackal1>: hard kill
<2shad4u>: stupid <2shad4u>: all over a little gun shop
<jackal1>: they have their pride
<2shad4u>: feds all be looking down <2shad4u>: not up <2shad4u>: perfect timing
<jackal1>: maybe
âHow did you get this?â CT said looking up at her over the crease. He was no longer amused.
âLike you said,â Paige replied nonchalantly folding the plastic tab back on her cup. âIâm a pro.â
CTâs eyes returned to the paper despite him knowing exactly what it said and his mouth began moving again like the slow wheels and cogs of an old machine restarting as he dealt with some conflicting emotions. What she uncovered could mean a significant amount more time behind bars for him, but at the same time her quick use of the few skills heâd taught her was about the most insanely attractive thing he could imagine. The room was quiet again as he sucked air through the straw and shook his cup to rearrange the ice.
âJust tell me what you know about this, particularly the art show.â Paige said. There were a whole range of questions she had based off the transcript, but being pressed for time against the snowstorm, she had to cut to the chase. Ever since Monday, she couldnât shake the sure-feeling that Shannon had got the better of her and she was hellbent on finding a way around having to rely solely on the gangster-queen for information. It felt like a wall that she and Milo couldnât get around, like they were pieces being placed on a chessboard, which was just the way she knew Shannon intended it. Sheâd thought about it near constantly, often unable to sleep until Milo jokingly suggested they use the hacking skills CT shared just to see what came up. She wasnât going to tell him the âFederalâ in the chat transcript was her and based on his reaction, she was sure he didnât know either.
CT shifted nervously, but resumed his rapid-chewing. He took another big bite before speaking: âLook, Iâm not trying make things worse for myself here.â He looked around the bleak room, empty and clean save for the table bolted to the floor. âIf I tell you, are you gonna be able to protect me here?â
Paige smirked a little. âThis is just the city lockup, you havenât even made it to the pen yet.â She said with some amusement. Seeing his terrified reaction though, she knew she would have to relent a little. In order to talk, CT had to be made to feel smart and important. Two concepts that were not entirely lost. âThe more you can tell me, the better I can make things for you, CT. Now what were you going to do at the art show?â
âNothing at the show, that stuff is boring as hell.â He was nearing the end of his second sandwich. âBut itâll be full of stuck-up pricks with lots of money looking to buy crap that looks like somebody threw-up on a canvas.â
âAnd thatâs where you come in?â Paige said giving him a very practiced look of false intrigue. She had to agree with him about modern art so it was easy to add an empathetic tone. At least what Sio created looked like actual art and she was regarded as a bit of an outcast.
âLike clubbinâ baby seals.â He said with growing, smug grin. âThese idiots have so much money, they donât even realize it when I skim off 20-30k? You follow? I just add it in as processing fees on their bank statements.â
âWhatâs with all the bank stuff?â She asked. She had to admit, he was crafty and the more she could pad his ego, the more he would spill.
âOh that?â CT said looking back up towards the top of the page. He leaned back and rubbed his stomach contemplating a third burger, but thinking better of it. âThat was just me talking shit,â He admitted though feeling his oats, he was ready to do some boasting: âSee, I had this idea, back in high school actually, about how you could rob all three major banks in Sol and get away with it. It was beautiful.â
Paigeâs eyes widened slightly and her gaze snapped up from the paper between them. âWait, what did you just say?â
âAbout what?â CT said facetiously. âMe in high school?â He shook his head in theatrical reminiscence playing off her sudden concern. âMan, I was such a player, you would have loved me back then-â
âNo, about the banks, you fool.â Paige snapped cutting him off.
âOh,â He was surprised slightly how the playfulness had so quickly evaporated from her tone reminding him that he was indeed in prison and she more or less had control over nearly every facet of his meager comfort level. âI mean, I just cooked up this plan where you could rob all three and get away with it, itâs not as hard as you think, dÄ«vide et imperÄ.â
âStarBank, Millennium and First National.â
âYeah, thatâs it.â CT confirmed. âExcept I think Millennium was called something else back then, Century 22 or 55 or something like that...â He sat his styrofoam cup on the table slightly deflated at how the conversation was going, but a little intrigued himself at her intense interest in his old bank robbery fantasies. âThat was years ago, you couldnât get away with it now.â
âWhy not?â
âWell for one thing, SCPD is double what it used to be.â CT said matter-of-factly. Heâd lived in Sol most of his life. âHavenât you seen those guys? Theyâre like friggin football players now.â He turned his gaze away from her towards the ceiling considering the logistical puzzle again. He rather liked the mental exercise. âYou could still probably do it I guess, but you would have to be willing to sacrifice a few flunkies to pull it off, like pawns on a chessboard, ya know?â
âYes, I get that CT, but how would you actually do it?â Paige asked barely able to mask her impatience. She was leaning forward slightly and glanced up to see an SCPD officer giving her a concerned look through the small window in the entrance. The weather was getting worse.
CT thought back about his original plan briefly. âWell the first part is easy,â He said, still thinking. âYou just gotta get them moving, classic-style, like blow up a car or call in a bomb threat at a school, preferably on the west side, that way you can get the bridge traffic between you.â He scratched at the stubble on his beck a bit. âThe next part is the hardest, you would have to hand the teller a note at each separately and at the same time, but no guns needed. Just a note. All three have a silent alarm the teller can trigger so theyâre definitely gonna hit that so no need to come in all wild west style and scare everybody.â He finished off his soda and shook the ice again looking for the last few drops. His tone became slightly more methodical than playful as he envisioned his plan. âYou only want to take as much as you can carry, so one person, one bag, big bills and you get away on a bike⊠or a moped.â He glanced up at Paige with a smirk.
âHow do you get out of the city?â
âDaedalus seaplanes can land in the harbor,â CT continued. âYouâd just have to have a wheelman that could fly a plane.â
âOr your own plane...â Paige said. Her thoughts drifted to Marlin and their conversation from Monday.
âYeah, well youâre gonna need that anyway for the last bit, a business jet or something.â
âWhat do you mean?â Her glance narrowed inquisitively.
âYour crew isnât gonna get away on that little prop-powered, tourist plane, not enough range,â He said. âYou fly it out to Catalina Island where thereâs a long runway, ditch the seaplane and youâre out of this hemisphere in less than an hour. Theyâd never catch you.â
âCatalina Island?â
âItâs basically this big rock in the middle of the ocean a couple miles off the coast.â CT said crossing his arms and considering the final parts of his brainchild. âIt was like an army-air force base back in the day, couple people tried making it into a tourist thing, but it never really caught on, runway is still useable though.â
Paige shook her head and glanced away at nothing in particular. She was working it out for herself having never heard such a scheme concocted seemingly out of pure boredom.
âWhatâs got you so hemmed up on that?â CT asked. âI figured youâd want to know more about the art show-â
âHow many people have you told this to?â
âOh, I dunno.â CT shrugged. âI used to bring it up at parties back when I was a kid, chicks really digged it, just like you are now.â
âYeahâŠâ
âLike I said, you just couldnât do it nowadays.â He pursed his lips slightly. âThereâs just too many cops in Sol, youâd have to be willing to settle for just one score to really have a statistical chance of success and on top of that youâd have to make the hit on the day before the armored truck runs.â
âWhat do they publish the bank runs here?â Paige cocked an eyebrow of disbelief.
âNo, theyâre not quite that careless, but they are predictable.â CT said. âWhat people donât realize is that the armored truck is mostly for taking money out, not bringing it in. Once the physical deposits hit a certain level, the system automatically puts in a pickup request.â
A firm knock reverberated on the hard metal door. Paige looked up seeing the guard giving her a more than slightly concerned look. She glanced around the table again. There was nothing but CTâs trash and the singular printed transcript. She stood up, but hesitated slightly in her thoughts. Her legs defiantly stayed with the broad section of her churning mind that wanted to keep asking questions even if it meant a night on a hard bench in City Hall.
âHey is all this gonna help me at all?â CT pleaded. âI mean, I really laid it all out there. I should get something, right?â
Paige looked hard back at him knowing she had to go. Her legs relented and she moved around the table swiftly and rocked him by the shoulders with a firm grasp, looking him firmly in the eye with her blazing olive orbs. She planted a large kiss squarely on his forehead. âCT, you have no idea.â She said and ruffled his hair before opening the door and took off down the hallway.
Temporal jump to Thursday . Blizzard Mini Game Skip. Please state what time and location you are in
Please be clear as to your location and time of day. Most will find several inches of snow on the ground Thursday morning continuing through the day with blizzard conditions hitting around noon. Full details to follow in formal skip notice.
Do not forget to post up your team names!
As always, if you feel that you are not ready to skip. PLEASE speak up!
Temporal jump to Thursday . Blizzard Mini Game Skip. Please state what time and location you are in
Please be clear as to your location and time of day. Most will find several inches of snow on the ground Thursday morning continuing through the day with blizzard conditions hitting around noon. Full details to follow in formal skip notice.
Do not forget to post up your team names!
As always, if you feel that you are not ready to skip. PLEASE speak up!
Joel knew better than to expect much from disembodied voices on the phone or radio no matter how attractive they sounded. For all he knew Dustynn was 5â2â and pushing 350 so when she came out it was a pleasant surprise. âWhatâs up?â He said returning her greeting with a light nod and then watching her fumble around with the hood release. At least she knew where it was, which was another plus. She seemed rather excited about his arrival, but also didnât appear to recognize him at all from his win in the race a few weeks ago, another plus, three for three, off to a good start. He thought, but didnât say much as the notion to talk some trash crossed his mind. He liked her black hair though knowing when not to run his mouth was a discipline on which he prided himself. Talking smack and then not being able to deliver was a cardinal sin for technicians and he didnât want to tarnish his stellar street cred on a busted old Focus in a trailer park.
He felt around briefly for the latch release and raised the hood up surveying about what he expected: The drab brown of years of road dust over everything, the smell of burnt antifreeze where it had been boiling with the defroster and the oily aroma of the valve-cover gasket leaking. He glanced at the battery unsurprised. It looked like a chia-pet with all the corrosion that had grown over the terminals and some nitwit had hardwired the aftermarket radio directly to the post. Stepping back around to the driverâs seat he took the keys from Dustynn meeting her eyes again and catching a whiff of cigarettes on her clothes. A sense that was confirmed when he sat down in her car. Canât winâem all. He shook his head a little and smirked. The car was about as bone-stock, basic as it could be offered with roll-up windows, no cruise control and a five-speed transmission. He rocked the shifter a little to make sure it was out of gear and tried the key to see if anything happened, but the gauge cluster didnât even flinch.
âBatteryâs dead.â He said walking back over to the Jeep and swinging open the tailgate. He returned with a small waterproof bag that jingled lightly from the tools inside and laid it over the Fordâs dirty engine before climbing back up his bumper to raise the hood on the Jeep as well. One more trip and he came back with the bottle of Coke. âI usually donât recommend doing this,â He said twisting off the top and taking a short swig, âBut it works in a pinch.â He dumped some over the corroded terminals and watched the acid in the cola eat away the blue-white fungus that had grown all over the top of the battery. Once it was gone he wiped the residue clean with a rag and disconnected the leads finding the date code for battery itself. It was only a couple years old and as long as they werenât killing it regularly, would still hold a charge. âI bet your radio doesnât work half the time.â He said as he cleaned the posts with a small wire brush and checked the positive and negative cables for damage. He held up the silly fuse someone wired-in from the stereo for her to see.
Once he was satisfied, Joel reconnected the the leads and went back to the Jeep for his jumper cables. Climbing up the big tire, he attached the cables to his own battery and then the others to hers wiping his hands casually as he hopped back up to the Jeepâs driverâs seat and started up the old Chrysler 4-liter engine giving it a couple revs for good measure before jumping back down leaving it idling. âJust give it a few minutes.â He said glancing at her and then back at her pitiful engine bay mentally noting everything else that was wrong with the car purely out of habit. He crossed his arms as they waited. âSo who killed the battery?â He said somewhat teasingly with a fake air of accusation in his glance.