Chapter Text
Fred Wilson paced the hotel suite as he waited for his newest and temporary security guard to arrive. Wilson didn’t have much of an imposing form, but he liked it that way, and he let Grey handle that. Grey stood at an even six feet tall, but looked taller due to his slender body. His salt and pepper hair kept high and tight matched his name perfectly, and he had a rugged face with pockmarks that each seemed to have their own story.
Wilson, on the other hand, looked like an everyman, which helped him blend into the crowd. He was shorter than Grey, and a bit stockier. Both him and Grey almost always wore suits, a causality of their occupations in corporate security. The suits provided them the credibility and authority they needed to get the jobs done. Between the two of them, there was nowhere they couldn’t access without a good suit, an all-knowing expression on their face, and an evident purpose in the way they walked.
Even now Wilson had a purpose with his pacing. He was uneasy. “I don’t like this,” he said.
Grey, who had been watching Wilson wear a patch into the carpet this whole time, stood up from the sofa and fixed himself a drink from the mini-bar, “What other choice do we have?” Grey spoke with a distinct southern-drawl and a deadpan expression, “besides they’re just here for show and to make Acton feel better. They’ll keep him distracted, maybe even run interference for us, and we’ll be on the road before you know it. This is going to work for us in the long run, short notice, good pay that’s not our money, these guys know not to ask questions.”
Wilson nodded his head in understanding. The security staff he used did not have the most stellar records, but he was able to forge all background checks to allow them in. He found that ex-military, or ex-contractors with questionable pasts were easy to control, and more apt to follow orders. But a handful of those guys got picked up, forcing Wilson and Grey to act quickly. That worried him the most. “This is our biggest operation, we’ll be able to quietly disappear for a long time after this.”
Grey smirked briefly. A knock on the door in the other room caught his attention. “About time,” he said, “he’s late. Not the best impression for a former Marine.”
“You’ve seen his record just like I have,” Wilson said, “are you surprised?” He walked towards the living room of the suite and called into it, “Can you see who that is?”
On the opposite side of the door, Michael stood and waited to be let inside. He had to silently laugh to himself; once again he was first through the door. Only this time no one was behind him. But he wasn’t quite alone; Muntzy was a few clicks down the corridor pretending to work on something. Michael shot a quick glance to Muntzy who nodded back.
The door opened and Michael was facing someone he didn’t expect to see… it was Lonnie!
What in the hell was she doing there? Taylor said she had some kind of encounter with Grey, but he didn’t expect to see her here in their suite. How far did she get? What did she find?
Both of them had to stifle any hints of recognition, but the look in their eyes was the instant gratification of brother and sister, albeit surrogate, being reunited, but Michael couldn't help but notice a small twinge of sadness in her eyes. Something was amiss. “Can I help you?” Lonnie asked.
“I’m Roesler,” Michael replied, “I’m here to see Wilson and Grey.”
“You’re late,” Lonnie said, “they’ve been waiting for you.” She stepped aside and allowed Michael to pass. By this time, both Grey and Wilson had entered the room.
“That will be all,” Wilson said to Lonnie who dismissed herself to the next room. She gave one glance back to Michael behind Wilson’s and Grey’s backs before she closed the door.
Michael looked around the room and nodded his head slightly to both men, “Sirs,” he said. He looked around the empty room. He felt somewhat vulnerable, as if it was he versus them. Wilson gestured for Michael to sit, who shook his head and politely declined. Upon his initial observations, he could tell that Wilson didn’t have prior military experience, as stiff as the man was, he was still too loose around the edges. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms while Grey remained steadfast.
Seeing Lonnie shook him significantly, he wasn’t expecting that. But being in the same room as Grey was unnerving for Michael. He still couldn’t place where he knew him from, how he knew him, or hell, even if he knew him at all. But something about the man was unsettling enough to Michael to make sure his guard is up. As if it wasn’t already.
“Here’s the deal,” Wilson said, our CEO Charles Acton is coming into town tomorrow on vacation. Acton can be reckless and unpredictable – it’s his money to do with as he pleases, but it’s how he handles it. He insists on carrying the chips, hardly cashes out with his large winnings. All he has with him is his personal assistant, Tanya Walker. You’re going to be assigned to him for some extra piece of mind.”
Michael nodded. He figured the less he said the better. Besides, it would add an air of mystery to his character.
“We picked you based upon your record, Mr. Roesler,” Grey said, “we know this is a short notice and short term assignment, but considering the other temporary guys on the job, you’re our best option.”
“Thank you, sir,” Michael said.
Wilson stood up straight and tightened his tie, “Don’t let it get to your head. You have a job to do, so do it. You’ll meet him and Miss Walker at the airport tomorrow evening, and you stay on his heels the whole time.”
Michael nodded again.
“Good,” Wilson said. He extended his hand and Michael shook it. He held his grip longer and looked Michael in the eye, “You’re accepting a contract, Mr. Roesler—an assignment. From here on out every order you follow comes from me and only me. You get this done; you’ll be rewarded very well.”
“Sounds like my kind of gig,” Michael replied.
“Get some rest, we start tomorrow.”
Michael was ushered out of the suite by Grey. He wanted to stop and listen at the door but kept walking in case Grey was watching him from the peephole. Lonnie was in there somewhere – how did she play in all of this?
He made his way down the corridor and ensured he was out of sight before meeting Muntzy by the elevators again, “You won’t believe who’s in that room,” Michael said.
Muntzy’s head shot to the left, instantly shooting a gaze down the corridor. There was no doubt he was alarmed and concerned for her safety. He looked back at Michael with a ‘what-the-hell’ expression on his face.
“She’s okay,” Michael said, “she gave me a signal that she’s fine, but she wasn’t able to talk.”
“What the hell is she doing in there?” Muntzy asked, “Is this why we haven’t heard from her in awhile?”
Michael nodded. There wasn’t much else to be said, or anything to make himself or Muntzy feel better. “She’s trained for this, she’ll be fine. She knows what she’s doing. I’ll be close to Acton all night,” he said. He held back on the gut feeling he had about her to not worry Muntzy, but he knew it was going to eat at him for awhile.
“You’ll be fine, you’re the original man of steel,” Muntzy said. He gently tapped on Michael’s forehead, “she’s the one I’m worried about now, she’s the one in that bed of snakes.”
The doors to the elevator opened and the two men got in. Michael checked his watch. Everything was about to go down in less than 20 hours. He let his mind wander from the case for a moment as the elevator journeyed down to the lobby. He thought about Stevie… He pictured her face… her pale skin, her blue eyes and blonde hair. That smile of hers which melted his heart and any wheelpower—she always got her way when she flashed that.
But then he thought more of Lonnie and tomorrow’s operation, and those damn variable’s and what-if’s that were bound to keep him awake at night. Michael was going to be stuck next to the CEO and his girlfriend all night, Lonnie was going to be God-knows-where, and Muntzy was going to be outside Acton’s suite. All the while, the man behind the curtain, Taylor, would be watching from the Montecito’s security room. The three men would be in contact with each other through inconspicuous ear buds.
Everything seemed covered – so why was Michael worried about tomorrow? Was it the fact that Lonnie is in way deeper than they could have expected? Or was it the fact that he recognized Grey from somewhere?
Muntzy quickly hit the floor above the lobby and the elevator stopped. They couldn’t afford being seen together any further unless absolutely necessary.
“Relax partner, we got six months in this, I’ll be right behind you,” Michael said, “we’re going to have these guys right where we want them.”
Michael wasn’t sure why he really said what he did. Maybe it was to reassure Muntzy that Lonnie would be safe, or maybe to reassure himself that the operation would be flawless tomorrow and at the end of the day, the good guys win. All he knew, there was a hell of a lot more at stake tomorrow than some microchip design.
Muntzy walked through the open elevator doors and turned around, “Looks like I’m the first through the doors this time, Mike.”
Both men laughed and bumped fists.
“Go time?” Muntzy asked.
“Go time.”
Muntzy waited for the doors to close completely before he collapsed against an adjoining wall and lost his breath and composure. It was all he could to keep from telling Michael about the awful exchange he and Lonnie had six months ago. Not because that it was none of Michael’s business, but because he didn’t want Michael, or even Taylor for that matter to worry about her.
No. That was his job, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Maybe he should have told Michael or Taylor… If anything those men could keep an eye on her somehow, while he was stuck on a ladder all damn night. That made him feel even worse – Lonnie was in some kind of danger and he couldn’t help.
He thought about how often she chided him for trying to fix whatever was bothering her – this is one situation where he definitely couldn’t. Wherever she was, Lonnie was on her own.