"Well, I guess that's that then."
Danny says cheerfully.
"Just put me down as a consultant. That leaves all kind of leeway." He grins.
Laura ruefully smiles, a soft chuckles escapes her lips. "I'm sure it does..."
"So I'll set up an interview room with one of the blokes & Marty once the ambulance has finished with him..." the pretty detective leaves the room.
Kenneth smiles, "Sounds delightful. I'm of a mood tae chat."
"Really? Cuz I figured that you'd want to pound on him some,... oh. That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"
Danny says with a straight face, but a merry twinkle in his eye.
"You want I should bring the goat back? Dude might be willing to talk a bit more if there's an angry goat nearby." Tangris grins at the memory of headbutting the guy over and over again...
Sal tosses Charles a wink as she saunters into the ladies room, the clack of her boots echoing within the buzzing hum of overhead fluorescent fixtures in the stark, hard room.
She slumps against the wall beside the sink and groans at the sight of mascara smeared under her eyes. It said waterproof! She turns both taps on full to warm the water, then tugs at the bottom of her expensive t-shirt to reveal the tiny, fraying holes from the pepper of hot buckshot and groans again. "This shirt was expensive!" she says aloud, possibly covered by the sound of running water from any eavesdroppers.
Shoving the shirt up, she tears open the velcro straps holding the light body armor around her ribs and pulls that aside as well, showing the pink blotch on the skin over her diaphragm where bruises are rapidly fading. She strokes the area gently with bony fingers, probing a bit harder when it turns out not to hurt. How does Kenneth do that? Wish he'd have been in London when Trip was shot. She refastens the armor with a little moue at the bad memories, then pulls down the t-shirt to cover it. The holes are invisible against the black background of the kevlar undershirt. Glad he was around today, anyway.
Warm water sluices across her hands as she leans down to rest elbows beside the sink and enjoys the feel of the water. The makeup is smeared across her face and she hasn't brought a purse, so it's a lost cause, really. She lathers up a little soap and tries to scrub the smell of gunpowder off her hands, then the ruined makeup from her face. Wet fingers through her dark hair refresh the spring of her curls as she tries to let the sensations drown out the itch that the presence of the drug - and venom - nearby ignite just under her skin, need for it making uncomfortable sizzling pops inside her head. At least there are people around and I can't get to it. Thank God for small favors.
Sal's fingers fly as she double-checks the security of the pistol holstered under her arm and the knife under her skirt, nodding as all is buttoned up tight and where it should be. Fluffing her curls, she surveys herself critically in the mirror, barely able to hold herself still from anxiety and distress and need. It's no good. I can't go out like this.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, conscious of the processed air filling her lungs, then lets it out very slowly, focusing inward on relaxing and regaining control. Unbidden, the feel of hard fingertips against her scalp tilts her head forward until it is bowed. Warmth seems to bathe her side as if her grandmother were beside her once again, kneeler soft beneath their bent knees. Her hands clasp together under her chin and she begins in a whisper, hearing inside her head the same words in musical Spanish, the accompanying voice rich and dark with age, her own high and piping to her mind's ear. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...
After some minutes, Sal emerges fresh-faced from the ladies room, hair slightly damp. She gives Charles a nod, unsmiling. "Thank you, Charles. Let's go find the others. I'm ready now." She follows the man back down the hallway, the fingers of her left hand playing nervously with something dangling from a string of beads wrapped around that wrist.
"So, what's the plan?" Sal strolls back into the room, eyes flicking between the men there and decidedly avoiding the packet of 'evidence', the tension in her voice belying her affectedly casual walk. "I'm confident you boys have had enough time to come up with something brilliant!"
Danny raise an approving eyebrow at Sal's damp locks as she reenters the room.
"Well, not quite yet. Right now all we've got is repetitive exposure to a wild goat. But give me a minute and I'll come up with something". Danny smirks confidently at her.
Kenneth smiles at Danny, "Ye mean that ye dinnae think that our winning personalities will get us what we need, lad?"
"Sure it will." Danny smirks back.
"It's all a matter of,... presentation." He grins evilly and rubs his hands together in eager anticipation.
"You can use more than personality to get information," Sal mutters darkly, leaning against the wall with crossed arms and kicking one booted foot back against it repeatedly.
Tangris nods at Sal. "Yep. I gotta goat. Goat'll get him to talk." Tangris nods sagely.
Danny looks at Sal blankly, then looks at Kenneth.
"Didn't I just say that?" He asks innocently.
Throughout all the friendly banter, you notice that Danny has not yet put away his cell phone. And when not talking he keeps looking at it.
Like he's afraid it might bite him,...
Kenneth says, "Bleating is ne'er the answer. Why dinnae you and Sal keep out here tae be the even worse and much worse cops while Danny and I take a crack at it. After all, I need tae make sure these low-lifes ken what I did tae their precious stuff."
"Expecting a call from your girlfriends, Danny? How do you keep them all straight?" Sal smirks and shakes her head, boot going thum thump thump. She nods at Kenneth's words. "Should we leave now, keep him wondering?"
Danny looks up in shock at Sal's words, then a shy/sly smile creeps over his face.
"Yeah, I had to throw away the little black book, it was too small. And the girls kept finding my rolodex, so I had to toss that too. It's amazing how upset the girls get when they realize that every card in the rolodex is a girl. And then they start reading the notes, details of the dates, that sort of thing." Danny shakes his head in mock wonder.
"I just don't understand why they always get so upset." He says innocently.
Danny waves the phone, then puts it back in his pocket. "That was, um, well not exactly a friend. 'Work-related' let's call it. One of the upper-ups is coming to town, and was kind enough to give me a warning. Now, why would she do that,...?" He muses. He looks around to make certain that both of the cops are out of the room.
"Actually, it's not like the fae to be so nice. Polite, yes. They will KILL you with manners, literally. But to call me up and tell me shes coming to town? What does she want from me?"
Danny looks, worried.
"Remember what I said when we first met Ken? About how I have a really hard time believing in coincidences? Well, this is one of those times."
He takes a breath, as if steeling himself, and says softly, but swiftly, as if he's afraid he won't get it out if he pauses again.
"The Winter Queen is sending an emissary here. To town. At the exact same time we hear about a new uber-drug getting ready to hit the streets, and supernatural big-wigs having secret meetings. What are the odds that it's NOT related? Seriously?"
Kenneth sighs and adds, "Dinnae forget my sister, the lawyer and pawn tae the Red Court. Or, in our excitement, the whole fun with the painting earlier. Something big is happening, we just dinnae ken what it is.... and I think we'd best fix that as soon as we can."
He looks up and says with a smile, "So let's go shake these bawbags until they drop a few pieces of the puzzle."
Danny grins and looks at Tangris.
"Yep. you two are gonna get along just fine!"
Laura returns with the look-up from the roof; his hands cuffed behind his back and a lump on his head. He's looking at her as she uncuffs him pushing him into a chair. "I ain't a grass." he exclaims at her.
He rasps his rough chin, pushing the soft skin as he's surprised by the other occupants.
"Ayup, you're the geezers that clonked me on the noggin'. Well this sheds a new light on things. Give us a few bob and maybe it'll refresh me memory." he says realising that the group might take a different tack and this will be the least rough on him.
Tangris smiles and steps forward and punches the man, hard.
"If I hit you hard enough, will you start speaking English?"
Sal stifles a laugh and looks meaningfully at Laura. "Perhaps you should leave. Are there any cameras in here?"
Danny waves a smiling 'bye-bye' to the policewoman, then winces in unfeigned sympathy for the stoopid,... er,... poor bloke.
"Ouch. That's gonna hurt in the morning. I suspect you have us confused with someone else. WE were thinking more along the lines of,... you pay US, and maybe we let you walk out of here without crutches. Or an ambulance." He says pleasantly.
"Of course, we understand that your just a working stiff. Guys gotta earn a living right? So we understand completely if you don't have any cash on you. We will accept payment in plastic, jewels,... information,..." He glares knowingly at the would-be lookout.
Laura looks on, the shattered ideals clear in her eyes; "I stay. I do not shy from consequences of my actions." her voice almost a shimmer lost in the silence of the room.
To be broken by; "F****** hell, you little b*****. I said I'd talk. I been roughed up by worse than thar." he looks at Tangris hard. "Bloody sweeny ya ain't. I were just looking for a bit o' cash. I'll tell you what I know. Ain't as much as others, but...." the look-out says with his thick brogue. The old villain nods with a firm agreement, trying not to rub the quickly emerging bruise.
Danny glances at the obviously internally disturbed Laura.
'Just don't forget 'Luv', that the consequences of your actions will probably help save hundreds of lives from rampaging monsters!' Danny sighs inwardly as the not-so-tough-guy fusses. Danny tells himself that he may need to have a little talk with Laura soon. To explain how things work on the other side of Spooky Street. Her ideals are fine, but she shouldn't feel like she's betrayed herself just because the other side doesn't believe or respect her ideals.
'Come to think of it, Maybe she would do better if she heard it from Ken,...'
"'Just looking for a bit o' cash'?" Danny says in a passable imitation of the man's heavy brogue.
"Ain't we all brother. Ain't we all. Since we've all decided we're all going to cooperate, Now we can all just have a friendly conversation. You can just tell us what you DO know, and we won't have to pretend we're all mean and tough, and you won't have to pretend how unimpressed you aren't with how mean and tough we are. Aren't. Whatever." Danny spins a chair around and sits down on it backwards. He gestures to Laura.
"Please, tell the nice lady a story. Preferably one about crime, drugs, distribution,... and mysterious underworld backers,..." He adds dryly at the end, acting on a hunch,...
Kenneth says, "Aye, but that dinnae mean that ye need tae wear the consequences of ours, ye ken."
Kenneth shakes his head at Tangris' actions, Ach, lad, it's the threat ay violence that works. Actually beating a thug dinnae accomplish anything beyond reinforcing his twisted view ay the world.
He then nods at Danny's smoother approach, Aye, that's more like it.
When he finishes, Kenneth smiles at the shaken thug and says, "And if ya tell us the right tale -- then we'll tell ye what happened tae your stuff. I'm sure tha' would be worth quite a bit o' bob from your bosses."
"My stuff?" he puzzles in his heavy accent. "I were just down t' crown - me local boozer (pub), then this bunch of lads from Whitby showed up. Knew me they did, I'm a face." he says proudly, glad that they recognised him as a rogue & a vagabond.
"Well he said he needed a look-out they were gonna bust Big Marty out of here. I knew big Marty, he's a bit mental but he pays up on time." he looks hopefully to Danny.
"Well initially I thought... naaah. But then, well they bought me a few drinks." he smiles gummilly.
"This guy's a nobody. He don't know nothin'. They didn't trust him enough to tell him anything important," Sal rolls her eyes in disdain. "Big Marty is the one we need to talk to, not this cockroach."
"I ain't a cockroach!" he protests, "I'm a weasel. I do me job, don't get involved in drugs or stupid political business." the hard-boiled but practical criminal concedes.
"I just took on work for these guys, cause I thought they could give me the big money. I know Big Marty usually has a good supplier and tons of cash. He's a bit flash, wouldn't have surprised me if he'd already lawyered up. Now wish I could but the wife'd kill me." he says in a mournful tone hoping the interrogator's would take pity.
"Your lucky your such a dedicated weasel. Otherwise They'd kill you." Danny says wryly, nodding his head at the hallway to indicate 'Big Marty' and the others.
"So. You were promised some quick cash to be a lookout for a breakout. What else you got?" He asks in a bored voice.
"Come on. Any weasel worth the name has a strong sense of self-preservation. You may not get involved in drugs or politics, but you hear plenty. Which as a good weasel you never let on you know, but remember just in case you suddenly need a life insurance policy. Now would be a really good time to cash in some of that insurance." Danny drawls as he inspects his fingernails.
"I told you, he doesn't know anything. Let's toss him back with the others and thank him for all the help he gave us. I'm sure they will appreciate it." Sal grins at the man. "Or we could just tell his wifey what went on. Sounds like a fate worse than death."
The grizzled man blanches slightly at that; "Nah, it's alright. She don't need to know... it was just a bit of beer money." he says nervously.
"These guys are smugglers from Whitby, they have some big contacts and stuff. Bringing in drugs from Holland and further afield. I'm not one of their gang... just hired help." he says with a shake of his head.
"There was a car out front, it were following us like. I think it's their boss." He tries to be very helpful; "Whomever put them upto getting Marty back. I doubt the others are bright enough to actually know their arse from their elbow - let alone plan to get Marty out." he throws a crumpled piece of paper onto the table top. It is a hastily drawn map of the cell block, with a heavy .
Danny tries not to smile too much at Sal's obvious tactic. Or his surprise at how well it actually worked on the burly thug.
"Well then, why don't we see what we can do to keep 'her' from finding out then?" Danny says straight-faced as he glances at the crudely drawn map. He stiffens slightly as he remembers,...
They drove up and piled out in a hurry, distracted by the faint sounds of gunfire from inside the police building, and fear for Ken's friend. They rushed to quickly disable the lookout and the getaway van, and hurry inside to help. But there had been something else too,... another car, with a man standing next to it. Had he been watching the building? As if waiting for someone to come outside? Danny remembers starting to say something to the others, then quickly following them as they moved forward,...
"Big fancy sedan? Dark?" He asks the thug, then turns to Laura without waiting for a reply.
"He was out front. Watching the building during the attack. I doubt he's still there now, but you might get lucky? If not, I'm sure you have cameras around here that should have gotten his picture and the plate on his car?"
Kenneth smiles, "Ach, now, there's a good lad. We willnae tell her.. but I believe this bonnie lass..", he motions to Laura, "...has further need ay your attention."
He pauses as the prisoner is escorted out, then stands and turns to Sal, "Nicely done...."
He sighs, and grows more serious, "Now we just need tae figure out how they knew where tae put their X... I can think ay a few ways they may have done it, and I dinnae like most ay them. Hopefully, 'tis just a small tracer, which we could find or hex easily. However, it may be that they used magic tae find him, which I dinnae much like... or worse, that they hae someone on the inside."
Laura confirms that there is surveilance, that she will get it once they are finished with this old rogue.
Once Danny get's outside he finds the vehicle gone, the flickering blue of a nearby ambulance strobing across his vision. Upon the road is just the hint of rubber from where the car has pulled away, not enough to have been from an obvious getaway - but certainly a quick one.
Danny shrugs as he looks at the now-empty parking spot.
"I didn't really think it would be that easy." He shrugs.
"Too bad life isn't really like those alphabet cop shows. One of those TV lab rats could take this bit of rubber, and tell us the manufacturer, the date, what make and model of car it was mounted on, and eventually the plate number." He grins.
"Shoot. I'd settle for a 'Warehouse 13' gadget/artifact. The one that shows you the picture of what happened in the near past would be really useful about now."
"So hoping they didn't hex or just turn off the cameras, what else we got to go on? I think the weasel was telling the truth. Most of it anyway. He admits he's no brain, and his buddies probably aren't any smarter. Otherwise they'd never have agreed to take on an entire police station in broad daylight. What are the chances of actually getting this 'Marty' fellow to talk? He sounds smarter than your average thug. Unfortunately. Although Weasel DID say that he was 'Mental'. I wonder if that means he's clued into Spooky Street? Maybe even actually knows working with the vamps or whoever?"
"It's easy to scare somebody. Find their weak point: pain, spiders, wives," Sal grins at Kenneth, then grows serious.
"Where's 'Big Marty' headed to now? They seemed to want him out as much as their poison back. And if they're ba-- I mean, gutsy enough to attack a police station, they'll have no trouble going for a hospital." Sal looks to Laura for an answer.
"We need to figure out which was the primary target. Big Marty? Or the 'stuff', before maybe someone noticed that it isn't 'normal' drugs? It might be both, the drugs to keep the cops from finding out the new version, and Big Marty for the same reason?"
"I don't know! Da##it Jim! I'm a musician, not a criminal psychologist!" Danny mutters in his best 'Star Trek/ Dr Bones' voice.
Tangris just sits back, watching the criminology lecture in front of him. Suddenly he pulls out a bag of chips and begins munching loudly on them..
Kenneth chuckles at Danny's joke, "Ach, lad, havenae ye learned nothing? The marks on the road be rubber.... that were once part ay a whole tire.... Though, I imagine by the time we find the bloody thing, by camera or by magic, the watcher will have dumped it."
Kenneth says, "Let's hae our wee chat with Marty. He needs tae learn what happened tae his precious stuff, and we need tae learn what he knows.... and I ken a way tae dae that." Something I was working on for Molly...
Laura returns Kenneth smile; whilst she removes the old look-out. Taking him back to the anonymity of the cells, carefully taking note of the 'help' that he's given them. Turning to Sal as she leaves: "Marty's in the cell, being treated by paramedics. I can take him to an interview room after they are done."
She returns a couple of minutes later, a slightly dour look on her complexion. Charles is stood next to her, quirking an eyebrow at the group. "Mr Marty is in Interview Room 3, unfortunately his lawyer is with him."
Laura leads the group towards the adjacent room.
In the clinical room, light reflecting off the institution green walls. Upon the steel seat, Marty looks daggers at the new-comers, his face pale from the pain of the fight - lips tightly closed, literally.
Next to him, sit a lady in an expensive suit - the charcoal lines well cut and the vivid cerulean shirt brings out her eyes and her heritage. In her late-20's, it implies her competence as does the confident stature.
An enigmatic smile slides across the lawyers face as she looks at the group; seemingly as if she has crucial information and is confident. Although this is might just be the natural arrogance of a legal professional, certain of being paid in full.
With a quick rhythm, her professional nails drum on the table. Nearly touching the folder beside her hand. A thick manilla folder, containing many sheets of paper.
Kenneth whispers, "Shyte-B@##*+&s"
He tries to will away the shock and despair from his face, "Well now, I'm amazed 'at a lowlife bawbag loch our Marty had the coin tae afford a high-priced barrister sic' as yerself, Miss Finley. I wonder who's picking up yer tab, or be this more court-appointed community service?" He hits the word with a subtle influence, hoping Danny follows along while locking eyes with his sister, There isnae any redness... and they dinnae look sleepy.... Is she just riding the edge ay a dose? I cannae believe she got clean.... unless...
Even as he tries to tell himself his sister can't be that stupid, Kenneth places a hand on his Crasg Brìghde and willing a fraction of his goddess' power into the holy item.
"Wow! Who's the frankly illegal hottie?!?" Tangris' tongue is wagging like a cartoon wolf as he sees the very beautiful lawyer sitting there. "If that's what you get when you turn to a life of crime, sign me up! Wowsa!"
Danny facepalms himself, and, while his face is still covered, reaches over and with one finger pushes Tangris' mouth closed with a click.
"Down boy. They have enough to mop up without you drooling everywhere." Danny says dryly.
He is obviously not without sympathy for Tangris' outburst. He was, however, searching for a more subtle way to express it than going all 'Jim Carrey/The Mask' over the girl. Fortunately the interaction gave Danny time to notice Kenneth's not-so-subtle emphasis, and then he finally puts two and two together, and gets 22.
"Ms Finley? Wait,... That's your sister?" Danny declares in mock shock.
"I'm sorry Ms Finley. I don't mean to be rude. But I had inferred that you were a creature of evil, green in color, with a horrid wart on your nose and a penchant for riding a broom. Seeing as how I was obviously mislead about 3 of the 4, I can only hope that the last is a misunderstanding?" He says with a grin that had been known to make girls panties spontaneously evaporate. Taking her hand in his he bows over it with a small kissing sound.
"My name is Kaye. Daniel Kaye. Pleased to meet you. Ignore the burly fellow. He's still being housebroken." He adds with a nod at Tangris.
Danny's mind is racing as he turns his charm volume up to 11, hoping to throw off Ken's sister as much as her appearance has obviously thrown off the usually unflappable bard.
'Come on Ken, snap out of it! And don't do anything stupid. That's my department.' He mentally adds as he notices Ken grasp the handle of his wicked looking dagger.
"Oh, dear. Ken you always did hang around with a unique bunch." the suited Molly adds with the slight condescention of an elder sibling.
With a small chuckle at Tangris' comment, causing movement in all the right area's. "From your accent and attire, you hail from New Jersey?" she asks the Were-goat.
Laura purses her lips at the unexpected development as everyone enters the room trying to remain slightly professional. She closes the door behind everyone and presses record upon a black box.
The lawyer brushes a curl of hair from where it's escaped her pony-tail, catching it behind her ear giving her a naive look (though an affectation, to lure the unwary). With a fluid movement she takes Danny's hand; "Pleased to meet you, though maybe in better circumstances. My names Molly."
Her rich eyes glance between Sal and Kenneth, with a gentle bow to her perfectly coiffured eyebrows.
Marty's face darkens over all this banter, but he has obviously been schooled and knows when to keep his mouth shut. There is also a hint at the potential annoyance that his conquerors are around, just at the corners of his thick lidded eyes.
Shuffling the papers before her she adds; "These are very serious charges..."
Sal surveys the situation as they enter, eyes widening a tad with surprise at the reaction of her companions to the lawyer. Being military, she knows a minefield when she sees one and opts to let the smart people do the talking, fervently hoping that Tangris and Danny come to the same decision.
Greeting the lawyer with a nod, Sal places her back to the wall next to the door and, leaning, watches the proceedings carefully. Her folded arms ensure that her gun hand is near the little pistol in its shoulder holster.
"New Jersey?!? Do I look like I work for the mob and enjoy painting myself orange?!? Alas, no, Miss, I hail from the frozen Northlands, where the deer and the antelope play. But for you, I could be from anywhere." Tangris makes a sweeping, albeit clumsy bow, and kisses the pretty lawyer's hand.
Sal manages to resist the temptation to bang her head against the wall, but has to bite her tongue, quite literally, to keep from bursting into laughter.
"I just bet you could." she taps her legal pencil against her yielding glazed lips. "Sorry, you don't work for the mob?" she wonders cautiously.
Danny just looks over at Tangris.
"Smooth X-lax, very smooth." he says noncommittally.