Project Northwoods (31 page)

“Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?” Allison growled. Everyone’s attention was on her as she took a few steps backward. She hopped up on her desk, regarding them with folded arms and crossed ankles. “Am I to take what you say seriously?”

There were two questions, but everyone was fairly sure there was only one they could answer. The interviewees exchanged awkward glances. Arthur mulled the questions over and said, definitively, “Yes.”

Allison nodded somberly, before a smile broke her face. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands together. “I knew I liked the looks of you!” She gestured over to Catalina, whose expression had not changed the entire time, and leaned in to whisper. “Other people think I’m crazy, you know.”

“Really?” Tim said, forcing his eyes wide and mouth slack at the thought.

“I know, right?” Allison leapt off the desk. “It’ll be nice to have people around here I can see completely eye-to-eye with.”

“Happy to help,” Talia said with a nod.

“Yeah, and maybe we can plan the takeover of the pawn shop on 3
rd
and Lovecraft.” Tim leaned forward and shook his fist. “Those over-priced bastards are going down!”

Allison snorted, unable to hold back laughter. “That’s what she said.”

“Yeah, she did!” Tim shouted, nodding. He got off his chair and leaned forward, hand up. Allison took the cue and gave him his high-five.

“I like you. You’re an idea man,” the mobster said, pointing at him. She leaned down and picked a suitcase up off the floor, bringing it to the table. “Catalina will get you situated. You know, picture taken for IDs and the company newsletter, the usual.” She plucked a trilby hat off the desk and slipped it on, one-handed. Suitcase in her grip, she headed for the door, stopping to point at Talia while she glanced at Catalina. “I’m thinking of using her as our video-blogger. Make her look like that VWN chick.” Talia smiled as Ariana choked back another laugh. Allison resumed her exit. “Forgive me, but I have to run.”

“Miss Capone,” Talia said as she stood up, reaching into her suit to retrieve the papers. “There’s something…”

By this time, Allison had produced a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and slid them over her eyes. “No autographs, please,” she said as she rushed out.

The silence that followed her departure was thick. Arthur coughed to break the tension. “Well, I think you’ll fit right in, Tim.”

“We didn’t even get a chance to show her the note,” Talia said.

“Well, if you would have just started off with the note…” Ariana muttered.

Talia rolled her eyes. “Your subject needs to be at ease before you pop something like that on them.”

Tim put his hands on his head. “Could you have imagined her reaction had we handed her the list and said, ‘We don’t know what this is, but your name’s on it!’ She might’ve had us burned at the stake for knowing her name.”

“Alright, I see your point,” Ariana agreed.

A slight pause sat uncomfortably in the room with them. “Well, I thought she was awesome,” Tim said.

“You would,” Ariana muttered.

Arthur replayed the events in his head before giving up trying to comprehend them. “I just can’t believe she’s that crazy.”

The door behind them slammed shut, and the group jumped. Catalina, who had gone unnoticed up to this point, was now behind them, locking the door. “Yes, well, the tertiary stages of venereal diseases will do that.” She was holding some kind of PDA in one hand, reading something off its screen. “Now, would you care to tell me about your list?”

The assembled exchanged looks. “Look, we had a legitimate interview,” Ariana explained.

Catalina pulled a small, semi-automatic pistol from her coat pocket. Upon recognizing it, the four scrambled away from Catalina, keeping her in their sights. “I know why you said you were here, but I want the truth.” She offered a smile, albeit a detached and impersonal one. “You know, the kind I’m going to get when I put a gun to your head.” She looked at her pistol, then up at the group. “Kind of like this one. One loaded with very real bullets.”

“Seriously, Catalina… this isn’t that important. We can go.” Tim put his hands up as he spoke in a copycat display of cop dramas on television.

The woman didn’t buy it. “I heard that there was a note you needed to give my sister. A note so important that…” She gestured at Tim. “… A goon for the Tibetan Mob…” At Talia, now. “… A news reporter who should be in custody if rumors are correct…” Her gaze passed to Arthur. “… A…” She trailed off. Skipping him, she went to Ariana. “And a recently laid off and presumably disgruntled coffee store clerk are willing to lie to a woman with a gun to protect its contents.” She shook her head. “Profoundly interesting.”

Ariana had made her way behind Tim, who was more than eager to let her; he could take bullets, she couldn’t. “Ma’am, we really just needed a job,” she said with a wavering voice.

Catalina eyed them up. “What, are you just the lamest group of villains ever to assemble?” She coughed a laugh. “Now, the only reason I can think that you could be here is to assassinate someone.”

“We would never hurt…” Talia started, dropping her faked accent.

“You.” Catalina was pointing to Arthur with her gun. With a flick of her wrist, she beckoned him to her. “Come here.” Arthur obeyed. Once close enough, she wrapped her arm around his neck, like they were old friends that enjoyed wielding firearms as a standard greeting. “So, Lovelass… as in, the crotch-spawn of Dark Saint?”

Arthur’s throat went dry. “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded at the affirmation. “Daddy issues… interesting,” Catalina mused. “But the thing is, my little friend here says that there’s no file on you.” She showed Arthur the screen of the device she had in her other hand. “Why?”

“He’s not a real villain, ma’am,” Tim quickly offered. “No license.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. “Tim, please stop trying to help.”

Catalina released him, pushing him back as she did so. She seemed excessively irritated by the prospect of a non-licensed villain asking for work. “If that’s the case, boyo, you came to the wrong place to ask for a job.” She put the gun under his chin, making the others tense up at the sight. “Isn’t applying for a position without proper permits punishable?”

“Not by death,” Arthur squeaked.

Catalina squinted at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Catalina looked at him emotionlessly. “No matter.” She cocked the hammer.

“Catalina! He has important…” Talia shouted before being cut off by Catalina jerking her head in her direction.

“Was I talking to you?” Blindingly fast, she whipped the pistol toward Talia and fired, the shot going wide above her head. Everyone not holding a gun winced. “No? Then shut up.” She turned back to Arthur. “Now, then. I can smell conspiracy a mile away. And four people – one of them the unregistered son of a dead hero – coming in here with false pretenses reeks of…” She trailed off, twisting the gun in circles with her wrist as if to draw something out. “Of?” Catalina was waiting for him to fill in the blank.

“Conspiracy, ma’am,” Arthur said after a particularly hard swallow.

“Conspiracy!” She threw her hands into the air like a cheerleader. “So why don’t you hand over the note and tell me why you’re here?”

Ariana poked her head out behind Tim. “Don’t tell her, Arthur.”

Catalina arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have to miss next time, Talia.”

“Actually, that’s Ariana,” Tim offered in a faithful impression of a student trying to please a teacher with correct response. He pointed to Talia. “That would be Talia.” Catalina cocked her head and stared at them in annoyance.

“What did Arthur say about trying to help, Tim?” Talia growled.

“Actually,” Arthur began, his words stiff and calculated, “the note is for the real head of the Italian Mob.” Catalina looked at him. “And that would be you, wouldn’t it?”

She took a step back and chuffed. “What did you just say?”

“Allison has to be the figurehead,” he explained in the same methodical tone. “An Italian Mob without an Al Capone isn’t the real deal. And even though people…” He trailed off before clearing his throat. “The Italian Mob is something to be reckoned with, isn’t it?”

“Preposterous!” she retorted with a degree of annoyance. “You know our reputation.”

“But that’s part of the game, isn’t it? Look like morons, but still be running everything you can.” He blinked, carefully considering his next sentence. “That way, the heroes won’t know you’re still a criminal empire.”

“Art, please stop encouraging her to cover my shirt with your brain,” Tim pleaded.

Catalina’s face twitched with a sneer which she seemed determined to repress. “And how, exactly… would you propose… I handle your revelation?”

Talia moved forward to stand beside Arthur. “We received this from Zombress, the night that Desert Ranger died.” She produced the sheets and showed them to Catalina. “It has a list of names on it, including your sister’s.” Catalina looked at them for a moment, then put the device into her pocket before snatching the papers and giving them a casual once-over.

“So?” she asked.

“It was pulled off a flash drive from one of your goons,” Talia said. “He was killed by a hero.”

“Which is presumably why you were hiring,” Tim said helpfully.

Catalina worked her jaw contemplatively. “We lost a good man the other night… Harold Daly.” Her eyes flashed up toward the others. “Guy just went AWOL,” she explained as she looked at the paper again. “This has to have some importance.” She looked up at the others. “Do you still have the flash drive?” Talia nodded and handed it to her. “What did you do to it?”

“It was damaged when we got it,” Talia explained. “There was a fight and it happened to be a casualty.”

Catalina looked at the pages, then at the USB drive. “Alright. I’ll see what I can pull off this. This…” She flapped the papers in her hand. “… Doesn’t mean much out of context, but it’s something to be worried about, I’m sure.” Catalina’s cold blue gaze flitted across their faces. “Did anyone mention if Daly said where he was going?”

The four exchanged glances. “We figured that you’d know more than we did,” Ariana said carefully, not wanting to step on anyone else’s answer.

Catalina scoffed. “Not likely.” Her lack of reverence was not intentional, Arthur guessed, but stemmed from her startling lack of empathy. “The guy was good about everything. He knew how to not be traced if necessary. One night, he disappeared.” Her mouth twisted into an introspective frown. “We’d thought he’d just run off.”

“And that was alright with you?” Talia asked.

Catalina cocked an eyebrow. “Allison was devastated. She loved listening to his conspiracy theories.” She paused, mulling something over. “Maybe one of them was right.” Catalina squeezed the flash drive in her hand. “I’m going to get this to our tech crew.” The woman opened the door and looked up, regarding them. “I want you to get ID cards made while you’re here. They’ll work as keys to the building if you need them.” She shook her head, lost in thought. “I really hope you won’t.” And, with a slam, the door was closed.

A pause hung in the air. “So, did we get the job?” Tim asked.

Startlingly quick, Catalina threw the door open again. “Sorry about the whole gun thing.” She smiled toothily. “Sometimes it seems like it’s a spare hand, you know?” No one answered as she nodded quietly to herself. “Feel free to let yourselves out.”

“So, did you get the job?” James asked, the roar of the busy sports bar drowning out a lot of their conversation. The place was dark and smelled of ages-old cigarette smoke, but there were enough televisions making noise and people shouting at one another to cover their own discussion. Talia insisted on it, mostly because Tim didn’t seem to be the kind of person to keep quiet about certain important things.

Tim looked up from his plate of chicken wings in mock surprise. “See, that’s what I asked.”

“Well, I doubt it,” Ariana said while leaning into Tim. She regarded the identification card they had printed out for her. “They would have at least had us fill out tax forms.” She grunted in irritation. “Why do I always smile with my teeth in my IDs?” She threw it dismissively on the table.

With a mouthful of chicken, Tim looked at Talia, who, up to this point, had been buried in a newspaper. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Talia grunted a response.

“We really shouldn’t be dining out, anyway, Tim,” Ariana mused. “We can’t all be making
six
digits.” She emphasized the ‘six’ dangerously, obviously trying to elicit some reaction out of Talia.

The reporter didn’t take the bait. The others started to talk again about one thing or another, and Talia felt her attention slip from the paper to the booth right behind them. The one where Arthur was slaving away over something on his computer. Part of her liked the fact that he was willing to forgo bonding in favor of the task at hand… and that at least made him more tolerable.

Especially now that the conversation was mutating into something she found undeniably stupid. “I’m telling you, Tim, no one can put two pool balls in their mouth, let alone four,” James said. “It can’t be done.”