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“Fedel, how many men do we have?” I asked him, as I jumped up onto the old conveyor belt.
“Within the state, or the country?”
I never knew there was a difference.
“The state?”
“Two hundred and forty-seven.”
“Jesus, really? We pay all of those people?”
“If you want any more information, you’re going to have to ask the boss.” He shifted in his seat.
I frowned, as I stood up and walked slowly along the belt with my arms out to the side as though I was having trouble balancing.
“Fedel, what’s the Italian word for narcissist?”
“Narcisista.”
Well, that was easier than I thought.
“How many people have you—?”
“I’ve lost count,” he cut me off before I could finish what I was going to say.
“I was going to ask you how many people you’ve dated.”
“Are you ordering me to talk about my personal life?”
I didn’t want to order him. “No, but—”
“Then I prefer to not answer your question, ma’am,” he responded, and luckily for the both of us, Declan returned from the basement.
“We’re done here, are they still standing guard?”
Fedel nodded, already on his feet. “Just like you asked, three at night, three in the morning. Also there is a new shipment of snow coming in.”
Why didn’t anyone tell me? Pricks!
“Good. Right on time. I’ll let Mel and Liam know, they’ve been expecting it.” Declan came upbeside me, and extended his arm to help me down. Accepting it, I jumped down as gracefully as possible.
“Did the permits come in for the new marijuana farm?” he questioned.
Fedel shook his head. “Apparently Chicago’s not as liberal as we would’ve liked to believe.”
“Well, it looks as though the bosses are going to have to buddy up to more people in Washington before they come home. They really want a home-based farm, right?” I asked, reminding them both that this was no longer a boys only club.
“What’s happening to our guest?” I added.
They both gave each other a look…I knew that look. It was the same one that Liam wore when he first introduced Mel to the family. It was the look he had in his eye before he was arrested. It was a look that said, “the shit is about to hit the fan.”
I sighed. “Do I have to start making ‘Free Declan Callahan’ buttons?”
TWENTY-FOUR
“The main reason he's in the business is to eliminate his enemies.”
—Lorenzo Carcaterra
MELODY
“Have they noticed you?” I asked him as I searched through the lines of the green code on the screen.
“No, I don’t think so. They’re horrifyingly anal, but they aren’t expecting anyone to be checking on them. Give me a second and maybe I can get us a live feed to make sure this isn’t just some M.I.T. dropout living in his mother’s basement,” Declan replied on speakerphone.
“Already done.” He’d apparently forgotten that I’d been doing this a long time.
Clicking on the web camera, I pulled up the live feed for both of us to see. Part of me did expect to see some loser dropout sitting in his dirty underwear and eating chips, just like the last three organizations we’d looked into.
Kain was coming in handy. It was best not to go to Colemen for this after getting the FBI list from him. So while in the Southeast, Kain greased a few palms and kept an open ear for any rumors of terrorist activity. The problem with law enforcement was that nine times out of ten, they assumed that people were stupid, and to their credit, nine times out of ten it was true. However, the difference was that they didn’t bother to inquire. It’d been a week since Liam first came up with this idea, and now everything was beginning to fall into place. We’d paid visits to bars frequented by anyone who was relevant in the government, and we’d gotten a few names from our venture. None of them seem worth the trouble though, which was why they’d been written off.
“Are you seeing this?” Declan gasped in shock before he chuckled. “We’ve crossed over into a whole other world.”
Pulling off my headphones, I turned to Liam who was lying in bed reading his comic book. I wanted to take the damn thing and chuck it across the room. Instead, I smacked him on the chest.
“What?” he snapped at me as I held up the laptop for him to see. His eyes widened as he sat up. “Holy shit.”
Taking the device from me, he sat rigidly, as his comic book fell to the floor.
“Are those AR-15s?”
“No, those are 1975 Russian APS assault rifles. However, these,” I said as I motioned to the guns on the far side of the wall, “are AR-15s. And those over there are original M1 Garand. My father gave me his on my fifteenth birthday. He had a Bushmaster M17S’, a Colt LE901 and a SOPMOD, which I am certain is strictly for military issue. Liam, this equates to my dream kitchen.”
Was it wrong that I was smiling? The room was an arsenal of weapons that had the potential to make me jealous. On the walls were maps of the different states that lined the East Coast.
“Who are they?” Liam asked me.
“They call themselves Rsamas; the Republic Soldiers Against More American Savagism. They’re a brand new terror cell growing out of—”
“Let me guess, Mississippi?” he cut me off.
“Close—Alabama. Right now, they boast thirteen members that Declan and I can dig up. They are very active on private underground blogs and chat rooms. Most of their action seems to be cyber based— hacking and the sort, but nothing on a grand scale.”
He looked to me. “They look as if they’re preparing for war.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re here to provide the war for them.”
“Can you be any more excited?” he chuckled as he brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear.
I held the screen for him to see again. “My dream kitchen, Liam. My dream kitchen.”
“Well, it looks as if we’ve found our sacrificial lamb.”
I leaned in as I zoomed over the guns at the bottom of the screen.
“No, Mel,” he said as though I were Ethan.
“Excuse you?”
“I’m sorry, you didn’t hear me? Let me repeat myself. No, Mel, you’re not ordering anyone down south for a few guns. I’m sure you can get them off the black market anyway.” He handed me back the phone, and took the computer from me.
“Not that one, it’s a FN Herstal semi-automatic—”
“Love, I adore you, but can you be passionate about something else right now. Like, I don’t know, setting these guys up?” The comic book nerd smiled.
I never said shit when he spent ten grand on his cartoon books.
“Pussy,” I muttered as I picked up the phone. “Declan?”
“So, I’m guessing this means were doing this?” he sighed into the phone.
“Do you have a problem?”
“No, I’ll get to work. When do you want this to happen?”
I looked to Liam, who had bent over to grab his comic. Angrily, I kicked him in the chest and off the bed. I was doing all the goddamn work while he was just on motherfucking vacation. Just because I knew how to hack, didn’t mean he got to slack off.
