01:04
Episode 1: The Original Blueprints
Part 4
Violet woke to the strains of the Kinks’ ‘Give the People what they want’ from her cell phone. It was the ring-tone she had assigned to Ned’s phone and she reluctantly answered while checking the time.
“Ned, it’s seven o’clock. What the fuck is it?”
“We need to do research now if we want to finish the project this week.”
“We just get the thing and go, like a couple of couriers. Not much to research.”
“And your uncle pays us?”
“Yep. Too bad we’ll be paid like couriers, too. I told you this is a milk run.”
“Well I have some news for you,” answered Ned. “I did a little research and it seems he ordered some work done on a local politician. It was waved off by your uncle.”
Violet didn’t say anything.
“Still think this is a milk run?” asked Ned.
“I’ll be at the office in an hour. Bring coffee.”
Violet hung up and rolled out of bed. There wasn’t much to her apartment . Everything was in one big concrete-floored room without walls or partitions. It had once been the offices for the Zenith Shipping company which still operated downstairs. She had her own entrance and the managers kept their men away from her which gave her all of the privacy she wanted.
She crossed the room and went around the drop-in Ikea kitchen to shower, scattering yesterday’s clothing as she went. Violet set the temp as hot as she could stand and let the searing heat and needle jets of the shower remove what three hours of sleep had not. Cleaned and focused Violet dried herself and brushed her short, blonde hair. She dressed in hip-hugging jeans and a tight, black t-shirt and checked herself in the mirror. Before her stood a twenty four year old woman — a little thin in the hips and chest — but svelte enough that it didn’t matter. As always her gaze dropped to the ruddy line of a knife-scar down her left ribs and the three rough circles above her right hip, otherwise the skin was flawless.
“Not bad for fifty-three,” she whispered and then, like always, stopped herself from wondering why.
Dressed, she dragged her ready-bag out and set it on her bed. Then she produced her snub-nosed thirty-eight – not from the bag but by reaching her hands behind her back and conjuring the guns from nowhere. Violet had no idea how the magic worked and forced herself not to care. She had once been attacked by two mooks who thought a relative of a mafia don might be valuable. When the police found her an hour later they discovered two man-shaped holes in the walls where she was held. The two mooks, although alive, would never have full use of their arms and legs again. She never told the police about the hammer that appeared from behind her back. She had been in danger and thought a hammer would come in handy and there it had been, right behind her back. She didn’t ask where it came from or where it went afterwords. She called the place ‘hammer-space’ and figured the extra strength, agility, slowed aging and other perks just came with it.
The pistol was checked and holstered and two full speed loaders from the bag went into hammer-space. Violet slipped into her leather jacket and boots and headed downstairs to her motorcycle.
Ned had her coffee waiting in a cardboard cup with a familiar teal reindeer. Violet sat at her desk sipping coffee and compiling a list of people to call while Ned sat at his desk drinking tea from a china cup. He sat behind a laptop searching for information on Dr. Paul Swanson while Vivaldi played on a stereo. They worked in silence for ten minutes. Ned didn’t turn to face Violet when he finally spoke.
“This isn’t good, Violet. This guy has some major weight behind him. He has contacts at the Pentagon and our junior senator has him on speed dial. You need to ask your uncle why he wants this done.”
Violet did not look up from her work or in any way confirm that she had heard her partner’s request.
“Did you hear me? If we steal from this guy he could end us.”
Violet turned and glared at Ned.
“I am not calling Carlo because you’ve got cold feet. It’s a job. Let’s just do it.”
Ned fumed but did it silently. He knew he was the junior partner and Violet was the one with the contacts to get them work but she hadn’t reminded him since they started working together.
“Look. I know you don’t trust Carlo but I do,” Violet told him. She controlled her temper but her voice had the sound of a of a string pulled too tight.
“He and the rest of the family, they work on trust and respect. We need to trust that whatever happens to us will be taken care of.”
Ned hesitated a moment and then slowly nodded but the thought running through his mind was a line from an old movie; ‘if there were any logic to our language trust would be a four letter word’. He went back to work but each fact he uncovered about Paul Swanson deepened his apprehension.
Violet began to make her calls. She used pseudonyms and cover companies she counted on to exist if someone later became curious. Her research required more work but presented a better payoff. Ned ran out of leads after forty minutes. Violet finished her last call half an hour after that.
“You’re right” she told Ned after hanging up the phone. “We can’t touch this guy.”
“So you’re calling your uncle?”
“Nope. We need to get him out of the way. Distract him and snatch this whatchamacallit while he’s gone.”
“So we do what? Stake out his house? Find a pattern?”
Violet smiled at Ned. It was a genuine smile filled with smugness.
“That was his ex-wife I just talked to,” she said. “He’s a theater fan and the Guthrie opens a new play tonight.”
“So we get this done in one day?” Ned grinned back at her. “Outstanding.”
“Told you this would be a milk run.”
EPISODES
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