The wake-up

7

"This good deed of yours, Frank, what a colossal waste of talent." Billy hadn't said a word during Thorpe's story, just sat there, impassive, but he couldn't hold back now. "A wake-up… just because some businessman smacked a child in the face? You think the boy has never been smacked before?"

"Not in front of me."

"What do you expect the art dealer to do, apologize?"

"I already gave him a chance to do that, but he declined."

Billy stared at Thorpe, the tumble of bowling pins crashing around them. "You're serious." The three of them sat on the bench of lane number 24, secure in their privacy. "Look, if you want to sharpen your claws, that's a good sign, a healthy sign, but why bother with this art dealer? I have more challenging targets for you."

"Software engineers? No thanks."

"You'll use your talents for Uncle Sam but not for me? Not for yourself? What are you, a patriot?" Billy's laugh boomed. "You were bounced out of the military, bounced out of the shop; you don't owe your country anything. It's time to grab what's on the table."

"I'm going to pass."

Billy shook his head, amused. "Have it your way. The offer still stands." He took a deep breath, spread his hands in an attitude of forgiveness. "I'm simply suggesting that this wake-up of yours is a thoughtless indulgence, as narcissistic as your vendetta against the Engineer."

Thorpe leaned closer, right in Billy's face now. "I don't need your approval."

"Temper, temper, but do you honestly think Kimberly would be targeting the Engineer if you had been the one murdered in the safe house?"

"You didn't know her, Billy."

"I hired her, Frank. Just like I hired you."

"You didn't know her."

Billy eased back. "I'm simply suggesting that getting emotionally involved is risky, risky for you, risky for everyone around you. You're a professional, so is the Engineer. You squeezed him, and he turned it back on you. If you could get some distance-"

Thorpe put a hand on Billy's shoulder, felt the big man tense as he drew him closer. Billy liked touching, but he didn't like being touched. Thorpe kept his hand where it was. "That's the problem, Billy. I can't get any distance from it. None at all." He slowly released him.

Billy adjusted his shirt, smoothed out the wrinkles where Thorpe had grabbed him. A tiny vein throbbed on the side of his skull. "If you think this foolishness with the art dealer is going to help you get back into shape for some real work, you have my blessing."

"I don't think it's foolish," said Warren.

They both turned and stared at him. Warren hadn't said a word since Thorpe had started talking about the wake-up.

Warren looked up from his GameBoy, surprised. "What? The guy hit a kid."

Thorpe nodded. "That's right."

Warren pushed his light blue curls away from his face. "My mother's boyfriend was a hitter. That shit would come out of nowhere, too. One minute, I'd be watching Power Rangers; the next, I'd be slammed up against the wall. Never did figure out what I had done wrong." The barbell stud gleamed in his left eyebrow; it looked like a tear falling upward, freed of gravity. "I say do it, Frank. Fuck him up good."

"Well… that was interesting," said Billy, lips pursed. "Warren has given you his seal of approval, so I guess there's nothing more to be said. How do you intend to use Ellsworth? You plan on selling one of his bogus masterpieces to the art dealer?"

"Something like that."

Billy waited, then gave up. "There's no need to involve Ellsworth. I can simply have Warren crash the dealer's credit history. We could even get him audited, if you like. Take Ware five minutes-"

"Two minutes," said Warren, tapping away at his GameBoy.

Thorpe smiled, enjoying seeing Billy try to find out what his plan was. Billy hated not knowing things. It wasn't a matter of personal safety, or gaining financial advantage, or even power. Billy just liked being at the absolute apex of the information pyramid. The "Prime Mover," he called it.

"Why not just tell the art dealer's wife that he's cheating?" said Billy. "Or just make the threat. That should do the job." He rested his chin on his cupped hands, his expression serene, and Thorpe was reminded of the Mayan lord in Meachum's gallery, distant and alien and implacable. "No? All right… well, considering your style, I imagine you're planning something simple, something with the personal touch."

" 'Something borrowed, something blue,' " said Thorpe.

Billy slowly brightened. "The art dealer's wife… is she lovely, Frank?"

"I only met her once."

"Sometimes once is all it takes," said Billy. "Love at first sight, that's the only kind that counts." He cocked his head at Thorpe. "Just one look… wasn't that the way it was with you and Kimberly?"

Thorpe raised a forefinger to his lips. "Shhh."

Billy forced a smile.

"I'm just going to give Meachum a wake-up," Thorpe said quietly. "I'm not saving the world or buying my way into heaven. I just want something to keep me busy while I wait for the Engineer to surface. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course I'll help you," Billy said, preening, and Thorpe remembered all the reasons he had for not liking him. "What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't? I'll have Ellsworth contact you immediately."

Thorpe stood up.

"You should stay off the Net for a while," said Warren.

Thorpe looked at him.

Warren's fingers danced over the GameBoy. "Me jumping around after the Engineer… if he's good enough, and I'm not saying he is, but if he is, he may be able to backtrack on me. He may be able to smoke out my connections. Billy uses my system when he contacts you, so that's a vulnerability." His fingers stabbed at the keys now. "I've got enough black ice in my program that he's never going to home in on my location, but you, Frank, you got that off-the-rack security. I'd be careful if I were you." He peeked at Thorpe. "If you have to hit the Net, don't hang around, that's all I'm saying."

"Thanks, Warren."

Warren went back to his game. "I just don't like the Engineer playing cute with my trip wire. Pisses me off."

"I'm glad we've got that settled," said Billy. "Go ahead, Frank, give the art dealer a wake-up. Buy the kid a baseball mitt and take him to a ball game, load him up with hot dogs and Cracker Jack. See if it makes him all better. See if it makes you all better. When you're finished, we'll get to work, you and I. It will be just like the old days."

Thorpe didn't answer.