walked past and smacked him on the other side of his head with the little brown box in passing.
Thiago glared at Shawn once more and followed Remy into the main room.
“What’s in the box?” he asked carefully.
“Parts,” Remy said succinctly as he set the box and his juice down and made
his way back into the kitchen to rescue his scones. Thiago watched him warily.
“Parts for what?”
“In a minute, podna, I need food.”
“Told you he gravitates toward the food,” Nikolaus mumbled as he picked
through the pastries.
“Remy,” Thiago ventured, wanting to make certain it was clear that he’d
been the one to think Remy had gone and not Shawn. That Shawn had actually
defended him.
“Look, I understand,” Remy said as he walked past them again and sat down
at the big dining table. “You caught me at my worst last night, and I can see why you’d think I’d bail.”
“I didn’t think you’d bailed on us,” Thiago said as he walked over and sat at
the table beside Remy. “I thought you’d… I thought you were suicidal or something.”
Remy stopped chewing and looked at Thiago with wide eyes. “Why would I
be suicidal? You weren’t that bad, Thi,” he said with a grin and a barely concealed snicker.
“Oh, that’s great. Why do I even bother?” Thiago muttered as he stood up
and went to find something to eat, leaving Remy snickering at the table behind him.
XXII.
CARL watched the interaction tensely, only vaguely aware that he was still holding onto Brandt and absently fingering the trigger of his gun as it rested in its holster beneath his arm. He relaxed slightly when Remy began to snicker and bite into his scone, but the air was still tense and Shawn looked positively miserable.
Brandt nudged him and Carl glanced at the man briefly before looking back
at Thiago and Shawn.
“What do we do?” Brandt whispered into his ear. Carl glanced at him again
and shrugged.
He had no idea what to do. After the melee he had witnessed between Shawn
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and Brandt the night before and the continued tension between Remy and Shawn
now, Carl was at a loss as to who to try to fix first. He didn’t even know if he could fix either one of them.
“What’s the plan for today then?” Remy asked as he turned around in his
chair and straddled it, a scone in one hand and his glass in the other. They all looked at one another uncomfortably. “Jesus! We can’t just sit here and twiddle our thumbs.
Who’s the brains of this outfit, anyway?”
“I think that was Shawn,” Carl said wryly as his mind landed on an idea.
“Before he went mad, that is. Now I suppose it’s you, God help us.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Shawn asked in a hurt voice. “I’ve
not gone mad!”
“Uh huh. What’s the plan, Dixie?” Carl asked as he spared Shawn a glance
before turning his gaze back on Remy. Remy blinked at him.
“You can’t put him in charge,” Shawn protested. “We’ll be in the shit and
he’ll stop to get an ice cream, for fuck’s sake!”
“What’s wrong with ice cream?” Remy asked in an insulted voice.
“I think you missed the point of the comment,” Thiago muttered as he sat
down in the kitchen beside Nikolaus.
“I didn’t miss the point,” Remy called from the dining area. “I just don’t see
what’s wrong with ice cream.”
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with ice cream!” Shawn yelled in
frustration.
“You were the one who made us stop that time for–”
“Remy,” Shawn growled.
“Well, you did!”
“That has absolutely no bearing on this discussion. If anything, Thiago
should be in charge.”
“What?” Thiago said as if he hadn’t truly been listening but had simply
heard his name.
“I think you’re doing a fine job of it, Beignet,” Remy said sarcastically. “I
mean we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? You haven’t shot any of us yet.”
“I told you that was an accident!”
Remy responded with that odd hissing sound he made and then shouted, “I
couldn’t sit for a fucking month, you bastard!”
“Where do I have to shoot you to get your mouth to stop running?” Shawn
asked sarcastically.
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“Care for me to demonstrate?” Remy asked casually as his hand moved
slightly toward his weapon.
Remy and Shawn glared at one another warily and Carl smirked a little. He
leant into Brandt and whispered just loud enough for the others to hear.
“Maybe we’d be better off splitting up again.”
Brandt looked at him with narrowed eyes. Miraculously, he seemed to catch
on to what Carl was trying to do, and he played along.
“Do you think it would help?” the big man asked casually.
“No!” Remy and Shawn yelled in unison.
Carl raised an eyebrow at them and Thiago and Nikolaus both perked up
from where they sat in the kitchen. That was probably the first thing Shawn and Remy had agreed on since they reunited. That was progress, as far as Carl was concerned.
Remy looked down at his half-eaten scone and Shawn shifted uncomfortably
against the wall as he glared at Carl.
“Jesus, Shawn,” Remy murmured thoughtfully.
“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked distractedly as he continued to study Carl
and Brandt suspiciously.
“We really are a couple of silly bioques,” Remy sighed decisively as he
looked back up, and Carl was relieved to see a slight smile on the younger man’s face.
Perhaps this would be easier than Carl had thought. Nothing like a little reverse psychology to screw with the heads of your mates.
“What?” Shawn asked in surprise as he turned back to look at Remy.
“Mais c’est vrai. Five years, Shawn. Five years together, and all it takes is one little rogue to send us into a spiral?”
Everyone was silent as Shawn and Remy looked at one another thoughtfully.
Carl hadn’t quite grasped the amount of turmoil they were in until that point. He wasn’t certain any of them had, not even Shawn and Remy.
Five years. In the nomadic life they led, five years was an eternity. No
wonder Shawn and Remy were both a mess.
“You’re right,” Shawn said quietly after several moments.
Remy was up and out of his chair before Carl really registered the
movement, and in several long strides, the Cajun had closed the distance between
himself and Shawn and pulled him into a tight hug. Remy was getting crumbs from
his scone all over Shawn’s hair, but neither of them seemed to mind.
Shawn murmured something into Remy’s ear as he wrapped his arms
gratefully around Remy’s body, but Carl couldn’t quite make it out.
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“Doesn’t matter,” Remy said determinedly. “We can’t forget all we’ve been
through. Sommes des amis first, understand?” he added as his voice broke slightly.
Carl felt as if he were intruding as he watched the two of them clutch at one
another, and he glanced at Brandt uncertainly before he realized how pointless it was to look to Brandt Everett for his social cues.
Thiago smiled into
his coffee mug, and Nikolaus watched with a shy smile.
Brandt grinned like a fool, and Carl found himself wondering if Remy and Shawn
realized it wasn’t just the two of them anymore. They had others to fall back on now.
They had all been loners for so long, it was hard to get accustomed to the fact that there was now someone else there, but Carl was coming to realize this, and he hoped the rest of them were as well.
“Well, now that that’s settled, on to the real business. I need some supplies,”
Brandt announced suddenly as Shawn clung to Remy for dear life.
Carl’s blood ran cold at the thought of what supplies Brandt needed exactly.
“What, uh, what sorts of supplies are we talking about here?” he asked tentatively.
“Explosives, Trigger! Timers, casings, leads, powder….”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Ooh! And dynamite! Remotes, grids, wires of all colors… did you know
people always cut the blue wire when they’re trying to defuse a bomb? Never cut the blue, Trigger. It’ll blow you all to Hell. Well… hold on… no, wait, I take that back.
Always cut the blue, Trigger. Always cut the blue.”
Brandt started down the hall toward the bedrooms, and Carl stood gaping
after him. He could hear Thiago and Nikolaus sniggering in the kitchen, and he
glanced at them questioningly. They both watched him in amusement. Shawn held
Remy’s face in his hands and spoke in low tones as Remy looked at him intently, and Carl didn’t think either one of them had even heard what Brandt had said. Surely, they would look more concerned if they’d heard that.
Carl stood there debating over what he should do. Should he follow after
Brandt and make certain nothing got blown up in Brandt’s fervent excitement, or
should he sit down and finally eat the breakfast he’d cooked?
Carl’s shoulders slumped and he trudged after Brandt dejectedly.
“Hey, Trigger!” he heard from the first bedroom on the right. “I need help!”
Carl broke into a trot and stepped into the doorframe just in time to see a
little burst of yellow flame and be assaulted with a smell similar to that of rotten eggs.
“Christ! What are you doing?” Carl yelled as he covered the lower part of his
face with his forearm and squinted to combat the smoke and stench.
“That was the last of it,” Brandt answered sadly as he stared down at the puff
of smoke rising from the cutting board on the floor.
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“What was it?” Carl coughed as he waved his hand at the remnants of smoke
and the other four men joined him in the doorway.
“A combination of zinc metal powder and sulphur. When used correctly it’ll
do, well, that,” Brandt said as he waved his hand at the ruined cutting board.
“Where’d you get the board?” Remy asked as he poked his head around the
corner. He didn’t seem at all concerned with the explosion aspect of the event, just the inane details. Carl spared him a worried glance before returning his gaze to Brandt.
“Kitchen,” Brandt said tersely as he turned to his bag.
“What was the point of that?” Thiago asked curiously as he slid around Carl
and into the room. He looked down at the pile of yellow powder and frowned.
Brandt shrugged and began digging through his bag once more. “There
wasn’t much of it. And it looked lonely,” he said matter-of-factly, and they all froze and stared at him. Just when they thought he was almost normal, he went and did or said something completely odd. Carl wondered if he did it on purpose. “I need
supplies!” Brandt wailed finally, and Carl watched in fascination as the man flailed his hands through the air and flopped onto the bed like a little kid throwing a fit.
Probably not on purpose, then.
“This is your region, Wally,” Carl drawled in amusement. “We all need
supplies. So where do we get them?”
Brandt perked up and Carl had to actively concentrate on not hiding behind
Shawn as Brandt looked at him with that gleam in his eyes.
“There’s a woman in Melbourne,” Brandt said excitedly.
“Melbourne?” Remy repeated unnecessarily as he slipped past Carl and
walked over to look down at the cutting board on the floor.
Brandt nodded. “She travels between Melbourne and Perth actually, but I’m
pretty sure she’s in Melbourne now.”
“Can we trust her?” Shawn asked skeptically.
“She’s a top-class arms dealer. Been in it for years. I get all my equipment
from her. If it’s in Australia, she’ll find it for you, Trigger,” Brandt said with a wink.
“Yes, but, that was before,” Remy said as he knelt and poked at the ashes.
Carl wasn’t certain what it was about the action that disturbed him, but he shivered nonetheless. “Word travels, y’know. Can you still trust her?”
Brandt was silent as he watched Remy thoughtfully.
“You think they think we turned and then let it out? You think they’ve made
her think we’ve turned?” he asked.
Remy looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “What?” he asked in confusion.
Carl knew how he felt.
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“I think what Remy’s asking,” Shawn offered slowly, “is she a company girl,
or is she freelance? Will she care whose side we’re supposedly on?”
“So far as I know, she’s a free agent,” Brandt said as he knelt at the foot of
the bed in front of Remy and pointed at something in the ashes that Carl couldn’t see.
Remy nodded and looked up into Brandt’s face and grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, Carl could see Thiago and Nikolaus share a worried look, and Carl’s blood ran cold once more as the two men on the floor looked at one another gleefully.
Brandt was manageable in his madness because he seemed to know that he
was crazy. Remy was a different story, in Carl’s opinion. He didn’t seem to realize that he was a card or two short of a full deck, and that made him dangerous. If Remy caught the firebug from Brandt, then he would be out of everyone’s control, save for maybe Shawn.
‘Please God, don’t let Brandt and Remy spend too much time together,’ Carl pleaded silently.
“Uh….” Shawn said nothing further and he turned to look at Carl warily.
Carl shrugged in return and knew that Shawn was thinking the same thing he had
been. “Well, come out of this God-awful stink and we’ll make ourselves a plan,”
Shawn urged finally, trying to tactfully usher the two younger men away from the pile of smoldering powder.
As Carl exited the room and made his way down the hall he heard Remy
whisper, “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.”
Carl turned in time to see Brandt nod delightedly. Despite the relatively
comfortable temperature of the flat, Carl found himself with the urge to shiver
throughout the entire planning session.
“What’s this bird’s name?” Shawn asked as Brandt sat in the middle of the
sofa beside Carl.
Carl was always interested in how they aligned themselves during these little
conferences. It was the best way of determining the mood of the group. Right now, Carl was flanked on either side by Brandt and Nikolaus, and Thiago took up residence in the overstuffed chair opposite the sofa. Shawn stood over them with his arms
folded across his chest, and Remy simply dematerialized. Carl glanced around
casually and wondered to himself how the Cajun did that, exactly.
“Her name’s Melinda,” Brandt said
as he picked at a loose thread on Carl’s
khaki pants. Carl swatted his hand away. “Melinda Oliver.”
Remy walked in holding a pastry and plopped himself gracelessly onto the
floor in front of Thiago. Thiago spread his legs wider without seeming to be aware that he was moving at all, and Remy settled in between them happily. Shawn watched them thoughtfully and everyone waited for someone else to say something. It should have been an awkward silence but, for some reason, it wasn’t. Carl smiled slightly and narrowed his eyes at Thiago and Remy. So that’s what they’d been doing last
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night. Carl wondered if Shawn knew.
“How do we contact her?” Remy asked in between bites, seemingly
oblivious that everyone’s attention was still on him.
“Well, that’s where we might hit problems,” Brandt said thoughtfully.
“You don’t know how?” Thiago asked irritably.
“Well, yes and no,” Brandt said as he leaned forward and absently plucked at
the thread again. Carl watched him briefly before swatting at his hand once more.
“Ow. Bastard. We’ll have to be careful about it. Even if she’s not a company player they may still be watching her. She has a set schedule, you see.”
“A set schedule?” Remy repeated incredulously. “She’s either very confident
or very stupid.”
“She’s not stupid, mate,” Brandt said assuredly. “She sits outside the same
café every Saturday from ten in the morning ’til noon. If you want her for business you drop a flower at her table in passing.”
“A flower?” Shawn asked dubiously. Carl didn’t much like the sound of it,
either. It sounded far too staged. Too spy novel to actually be real.
“What kind of flower?” Nikolaus asked curiously.
“Depends on the job,” Brandt said as he looked at Shawn steadily. Carl was
still worried about them. It seemed that Shawn and Remy had made their peace, at
least temporarily. But Shawn and Brandt had really had it out the night before, and though Carl couldn’t see a single difference in the way they behaved, something
didn’t feel right about it. He would have to watch them closely.