Chapter 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.”

“I’ll get that quadrillion selling the later models to the right governments and organizations, but the penny has, indeed dropped, Helena. What could I offer them that was better than Springheel? More Springheels!”

“But you see, you have to GET it first.” She turned to Lee. “And he’s not going to do that, because I want it, so that’s what’s going to happen. Here, then, is my counter-proposal to the Elders. Don’t worry, you’ll remember every word of it: Sever all ties with this man. If the hit hasn’t really been called off, do it. That human trafficking ring had to already be in place for someone to have thought it’d be a good idea to stop in San Finzione; I want that gone, too. Any operations they have in San Finzione are to cease immediately. Because once I am done with this man and the Auction, I will be stopping in China to pay a formal visit on the way home. I won’t be stopping in Hong Kong to see them, though. I’ll be going to visit HIM. The one whom THEY call ‘Elder!’ The one who gave me the very special name that had once belonged to another who was special to him, and the reason I knew that this was someone else from the moment I heard the rumor about women being moved through MY country! Because HE returns my respect! Raymond Chen was a misunderstanding. This,” She gestured to Whyte. “Is an insult, and The Viper shall have satisfaction. Now, I suggest you go give the Elders the news before Whyte’s hit team shows up.” She turned toward the man in the helmet. “Because that’s Plan B, in case Lee wasn’t smart enough to shoot me before I said a fucking word, isn’t it, Leonard?”

“I gave the go order while we’ve been speaking, yes, Helena. And Mr. Lee, she’s right. This IS, in fact, a complete set-up, but for her. And unless she permits you to pick up your weapons, which she won’t, then you won’t do it. You and your men are now officially unarmed bystanders in all of this, so, you may wish to start running.”

Lee stood up and called for the others to flee before running into the crate maze, leaving Helen and Mander alone with Whyte’s surrogate. Helen leaned forward, her elbows on the table, cupping her had with her hands, like a girl on a date with a dreamy boy in a 1950s-movie soda shoppe. She sighed at him.

“Have I ever told you that I have a thing for older guys, Leonard? The saddest part of all of this is that right up until YOU dropped a name that you shouldn’t have, the ‘get in my pants’ option was NOT off the table.”

“Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be.” Whyte sang. “But I gave them fair warning per your rules, Contessa. Oh, feel free to finish the cigarette you’ve left burning in the ash tray. Last one and such, only fitting.”

“Oh, no. That’s why I got this pack out, instead.” Helen said, producing a new cigarette from the case and lighting it. “The chemical we coated those ones with makes them taste nasty after the first few puffs. You know, everyone says smoking is bad for me, but this is the second time that they’ve come in really handy in a situation like this in the past year.”

“Hmm.” Whyte Hmmed. “Naughty girl. You’ve got a cigarette case, but you came in smoking from a pack that you threw away without finishing! Some kind of tracking powder on them? Been idly tossing dogends out the window on your way here?”

“Right up to the door. You got one, Leonard, nice work! I figured your jammers couldn’t do infrared as well, so just had to leave a trail that could be followed from the air. The Ultimados were about ten minutes behind us in the helicopter. So, in case Lee wasn’t scared enough before, he’s probably being rounded up by my people, standing over the bodies of the people you just wasted right now. I don’t know if you have any investments in adult diaper stocks in Hong Kong, Leonard, but they’re about to have a good week.”

“Well, I didn’t waste all my people in one go. You’ll get a proper meeting soon enough.” On the screen, Whyte looked down at his watch. “Say, it HAS been something of a long day, hasn’t it, Contessa? What’s say we both get a good night’s rest and pick it up in the morning? Ten-ish? Oh, but wait. There’s two things. The first is the guy in the helmet here. He’s a loose end, who knows what you might get out of him. And second ... well, he did take my money, so he’s no longer innocent, is he?”

Fizzing and whining sounds came from the helmet. Mander figured it out and grabbed a leg of the card table. He shoved Helen down to the floor, shielded her with his body, and himself with the cheap folding table, placing it between them and the man in the helmet.

“Damn, the Southern Fairy got it in time! Well, see you in the morning if you live, Helena. Ta-ta.” Whyte said on the screen, before the helmet erupted into a fiery mass, taking whoever’s head was inside with it.

Susan’s log, Stardate: The same one, I guess. We’re somewhere within the nebula of my Subconscious, which just showed us the memory of my first meeting with Helen. The image that appeared next was from my perspective again. It was dark, but in that darkness, and from the way I was moving, I knew what I was doing: Attempting to disentangle myself from Troy & Julie and crawl out of their bed without waking them up. (Their bed was bought with the intention of having multiple occupants, however, we still tend to end up in a bit of a pile.)

“If these are all going to be about Helen,” Sue remarked. “I remember what happens next.”

In the memory, I picked my way through the darkened room to Julie’s bathroom. I grabbed a robe in the dark, and slipped out into the living room. Julie’s laptop was on the living room table. I opened it up and brought up Skype.

As I typed, the memory slowed again. It didn’t pause, but it had done this before. From what we’d inferred, it was my subconscious’ way of getting my attention about something.

“The sleeves.” I noticed, watching my hand slowly mousing over Helen’s number and clicking the phone icon. “Julie doesn’t own any red velvet...”

Suzy-Q voiced the thought as I had it.

“You put it on in the dark. All of Julie’s robes are fancy ones that she stole from hotels; mostly Helen’s. There’s only one red velvet garment in this house that ties around the waist like that, and it’s not a Santa suit.”

In my reflection on the screen before Maria appeared, I saw it: I’d been wearing Propappou’s red velvet smoking jacket the night I called Helen to bitch her out about the gift bag.

“Wow,” Sue uttered. “She is fucking amazing.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to say that about Helen, Sue. Based on ... well, most of what you’ve historically said about her. I’d really like to hear more on this.”

She swiveled in Chekov’s seat to face me.

“You obviously didn’t mean to pick it in the dark, but we all know that is no ordinary garment. That is THE fucking sacred holy relic of Byroni Medina that you ‘chose’ to wear for this 3 AM bitch-out call. You don’t know that, of course; but that could only make it come off even harder as ‘Yeah, fuck you, I’m wearing Your True Father’s jacket! What do you think of that?’ And she’s never even brought it up. I’m admiring her restraint! Like, yeah, she’s literally a diplomat and everything, but FUCK!”

We watched as Helen laughed off my threat to kick her ass by telling me what they call her in Africa. Now, though, I was seeing it with the perspective Sue had given me. Seeing, now, how much I had been pushing her before she got to those words that colored everything to me.