14-04-2019, 12:27 PM
So Night Follows Day Pt. 16
By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey
*
"I had the shit till it all got smoked.
I kept the promise till the vow got broke.
I had to drink from the lovin' cup.
I stood on the banks till the river rose up.
I saw the bride in her wedding gown.
I was in the house when the house burned down."
-Warren Zevon, "I Was in the House When the House Burned Down"
"So, what's it going to be, then, eh?"
Contessa Helena de San Finzione asked the question of the two men she was seated with. Except that she wasn't asking the question of both the men at the table; rather the man at the table, and the one whose face was on a motorcycle helmet that encompassed the wearer's entire head. On a viewscreen across the visor covering the unknown man's face, Leonard Whyte's face was being projected, making him the second man she was addressing.
"Oh, I know." Helen said with mock sympathy. "You did it all wrong, though! I was supposed to come in here all 'Whyte set us both up! Listen, I've got proof!' I play the recording for Mr. Lee, who pretends to listen and nod at parts. Then you..." She said turning to Lee. "Were supposed to say something like 'That's very interesting, but I'd like to hear a different perspective.'" She turned back to Whyte. "And THAT'S when you send Larry Middleman, the Professional Surrogate out, and THAT'S your 'Dun dun DUN' moment! I have to ask at this point: Am I REALLY, like, your FIRST Mortal Enemy, Leonard? Was Morgan that good in his youth?"
"The plan WAS something like that before you spoiled it by asking your big Southern Fairy to see if he had a phone signal, Contessa. I figured my jig was up, and... Well, you're a Contessa. Making entrances is what you do. You understand."
Helena remembered saying those words to Generalissimo Ramirez after they'd raided the Triad warehouse where all of this began. Mander leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
"S'not him in there, Your Countessness. Northern Monkey like him'd never have the kind of bollocks to talk to me like that if he were in the room."
"Drop your weapons, everyone! Then don't move!" Helen shouted out in Cantonese to the warehouse around them. Weapons clattered in the darkness.
She turned to Mr. Lee and back to English.
"Well, to start, that's the kind of man you and the Elders are dealing with, Mr. Lee. He said he's got a couple more of those helmets. So, where's yours? He's figured out how to get around this thing I can do. So, why not share it with you? On that note, everyone except Mander forget about the helmet. If he didn't share with you, he hasn't shared with them, so let's prevent them getting ideas, shall we? So, now that whatever ambush you had planned isn't happening, but I suspect Whyte's will be coming soon, let's take a moment here; let me figure out your deal. It's a thing I do."
Helen crumpled up the cigarette pack on the table and tossed it aside, then took her cigarette case from her purse and lit one.
"Whyte wants Springheel." She began. "He knew that once I found out it was real, I'd want it, and he knows he can't outbid me. He could kill me, but then there's my power to consider. He gets a theory, and sets up your people with the Raymond Chen thing to test it, in a way that leaves me no choice but to reiterate an old message. A message which they didn't hesitate to acknowledge their understanding of. Hours later, a man whom you probably already know was named Frank Morgan attacks me. Morgan fails, and he dies. A lot more mercifully than he would have naturally; but no less dead, and with far more inconvenience to myself. Whyte threatens the grieving widow into giving me his message and nothing else, just in time for us to speak before the auction announcement."
Helen took a deep drag before continuing.
"I've spent the past month looking for him. I've steered clear of anything involving the Elders or Triads, both in the interest of keeping the peace; and because I figured nobody would be foolish enough to try and play The Elders, then go to them for help. But on the way here, I remembered something a friend said about the other warehouse. I DID miss Whyte's cameras, because videotaping your own slavery operation is so stupid that I never would have even thought to check for cameras. So, I guess that's one thing you've got on me, Leonard: I AM forced to down-shift to think like you."
She stood up from the table and stepped around to the unoccupied side, so she was facing Mr. Lee.
"So, he comes to you. Maybe not you personally; another Mr. Lee; another representative. His version of the story is, I'm certain, a very different one than mine, but it ends with him needing Springheel to protect himself from me and you wanting it too. But what can he offer for the Elders' assistance in getting it? For playing them in the first place? My head on a silver platter? No, he's already fucked that one up. So, what possible deal could he make? And the answer is right in front of us."
Whyte grinned on the visor's screen.
"Yes, Contessa. What can I offer them in exchange for Springheel?"
"Whyte Telecom, Whyte Electronics, Whyte Computers; you've got all the people you need to reverse-engineer the prototype. And figure out how to make more. You get the first one off the assembly line, and their pre-orders are already in for the next... five? Six? However many it takes to merge to form Mega-Springheel, anyway."
By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey
*
"I had the shit till it all got smoked.
I kept the promise till the vow got broke.
I had to drink from the lovin' cup.
I stood on the banks till the river rose up.
I saw the bride in her wedding gown.
I was in the house when the house burned down."
-Warren Zevon, "I Was in the House When the House Burned Down"
"So, what's it going to be, then, eh?"
Contessa Helena de San Finzione asked the question of the two men she was seated with. Except that she wasn't asking the question of both the men at the table; rather the man at the table, and the one whose face was on a motorcycle helmet that encompassed the wearer's entire head. On a viewscreen across the visor covering the unknown man's face, Leonard Whyte's face was being projected, making him the second man she was addressing.
"Oh, I know." Helen said with mock sympathy. "You did it all wrong, though! I was supposed to come in here all 'Whyte set us both up! Listen, I've got proof!' I play the recording for Mr. Lee, who pretends to listen and nod at parts. Then you..." She said turning to Lee. "Were supposed to say something like 'That's very interesting, but I'd like to hear a different perspective.'" She turned back to Whyte. "And THAT'S when you send Larry Middleman, the Professional Surrogate out, and THAT'S your 'Dun dun DUN' moment! I have to ask at this point: Am I REALLY, like, your FIRST Mortal Enemy, Leonard? Was Morgan that good in his youth?"
"The plan WAS something like that before you spoiled it by asking your big Southern Fairy to see if he had a phone signal, Contessa. I figured my jig was up, and... Well, you're a Contessa. Making entrances is what you do. You understand."
Helena remembered saying those words to Generalissimo Ramirez after they'd raided the Triad warehouse where all of this began. Mander leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
"S'not him in there, Your Countessness. Northern Monkey like him'd never have the kind of bollocks to talk to me like that if he were in the room."
"Drop your weapons, everyone! Then don't move!" Helen shouted out in Cantonese to the warehouse around them. Weapons clattered in the darkness.
She turned to Mr. Lee and back to English.
"Well, to start, that's the kind of man you and the Elders are dealing with, Mr. Lee. He said he's got a couple more of those helmets. So, where's yours? He's figured out how to get around this thing I can do. So, why not share it with you? On that note, everyone except Mander forget about the helmet. If he didn't share with you, he hasn't shared with them, so let's prevent them getting ideas, shall we? So, now that whatever ambush you had planned isn't happening, but I suspect Whyte's will be coming soon, let's take a moment here; let me figure out your deal. It's a thing I do."
Helen crumpled up the cigarette pack on the table and tossed it aside, then took her cigarette case from her purse and lit one.
"Whyte wants Springheel." She began. "He knew that once I found out it was real, I'd want it, and he knows he can't outbid me. He could kill me, but then there's my power to consider. He gets a theory, and sets up your people with the Raymond Chen thing to test it, in a way that leaves me no choice but to reiterate an old message. A message which they didn't hesitate to acknowledge their understanding of. Hours later, a man whom you probably already know was named Frank Morgan attacks me. Morgan fails, and he dies. A lot more mercifully than he would have naturally; but no less dead, and with far more inconvenience to myself. Whyte threatens the grieving widow into giving me his message and nothing else, just in time for us to speak before the auction announcement."
Helen took a deep drag before continuing.
"I've spent the past month looking for him. I've steered clear of anything involving the Elders or Triads, both in the interest of keeping the peace; and because I figured nobody would be foolish enough to try and play The Elders, then go to them for help. But on the way here, I remembered something a friend said about the other warehouse. I DID miss Whyte's cameras, because videotaping your own slavery operation is so stupid that I never would have even thought to check for cameras. So, I guess that's one thing you've got on me, Leonard: I AM forced to down-shift to think like you."
She stood up from the table and stepped around to the unoccupied side, so she was facing Mr. Lee.
"So, he comes to you. Maybe not you personally; another Mr. Lee; another representative. His version of the story is, I'm certain, a very different one than mine, but it ends with him needing Springheel to protect himself from me and you wanting it too. But what can he offer for the Elders' assistance in getting it? For playing them in the first place? My head on a silver platter? No, he's already fucked that one up. So, what possible deal could he make? And the answer is right in front of us."
Whyte grinned on the visor's screen.
"Yes, Contessa. What can I offer them in exchange for Springheel?"
"Whyte Telecom, Whyte Electronics, Whyte Computers; you've got all the people you need to reverse-engineer the prototype. And figure out how to make more. You get the first one off the assembly line, and their pre-orders are already in for the next... five? Six? However many it takes to merge to form Mega-Springheel, anyway."
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