OOM: William Evans Visits Miami

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael's on his way to the door, his polo shirt and jeans dusty from training with Duncan and a lasso out by the stables most of the morning and a pair of new work gloves hanging out of his pocket already showing signs of wear. He's got a lot on his mind, not the least of which is a small list of items he's on his way to retrieve before heading out to Ellen's world again to fight robots - because that's something that happens now that Milliways has become a considerable part of his life. Spy, cowboy, futuristic robot slayer... why the hell not. Sure beats posing as another millionaire playboy looking to score hot guns.

But then there's also the question of if he should go ahead and start working on the matter of finding this spy that's responsible for his burn notice before the guy finds him... assuming they don't already have a target on his back when he goes through the door.

It's those thoughts that make it so he doesn't even see William when he brushes past him; "Excuse me..." he mutters in a soft, distracted tone - not stopping his steady steps.

Comments

[luvs_yogurt]

A lot of people in Miami are... colorful. It's part of the spice of life.

"Michael!" The man grins, pushing up from his seat and coming around the table to embrace him in an awkward half-hug when he sees them coming up the stairs to the open patio. "Long time no see, man..."

"Yeah, I recall the last time we spoke I was telling you not to get killed by gun runners you pissed off."

"Yeah, yeah... and then saving my ass. Right, I owe you - that's why I'm here today. Honestly, I had to cancel my pedicure and massage to be here." His attention shifted to William before leaning a little closer to Michael; "Is he, uh... I mean, I heard you did the Paco job with some cute blonde girl, you know - sort of working the whole Pierce Brosnan as James Bond thing you've got going on when it comes to good looking girls..."

"He's a friend," Michael interrupts him before he can further insensate anything about anyone. "He's visiting." After a slight pause, he looks to William and says; "William from Arizona, this is Barry the money launderer."

"Michael, come on! You know I don't like that... it sounds so... shady..."

"Like a guy that hides money for criminals."

"It's not hiding... it's creative manipulation of accounts and investments." Barry flashes a serious face, returning to his seat at the table. "What're you drinking?"

[not_his_pa]

William has a pretty good idea of the insinuation that's about to come out and gives Barry a decent older look since he's someone Michael trusts.

[luvs_yogurt]

"It's before noon, I'll stick to coffee." He picks up a menu and passes it to William before picking a bunch of grapes off the tray at the center of the small table. "And whatever he's having."

He takes off his shades and folds them onto the table, making it clear that he's ready to talk business with William present.

"How're you doing, anyway? I mean, I thought you were dead when that Ferrari went up..."

"That's why they did it, they knew if you thought I was dead you'd run. Next time, don't forget real life isn't like a Bond movie. If you're trying to kill someone you don't tazer them, tie them up and then put them in a car full of explosives on a timer. You use your gun and put two bullets in his head."

"Bullets, right... well, I mean..."

"You were scared, I know. It's fine."

Barry frowns and taps on the table, somewhat nervously looking from Michael to William and then back again; "Don't look at me like that, kid. Believe me, if you saw these guys you'd be shitting yourself too. I deal with big ugly dudes - theses guys made big ugly dudes look like pretty pretty princesses."

[not_his_pa]

"Coffee's fine and it ain't the ugly ones you worry about, its the cold ones,"

That's what Wade's like and what Charlie Prince was like.

[luvs_yogurt]

Barry lifts a pierced eyebrow and calls over the waitress for their coffee. Michael merely smiled and nodded, he couldn't have said it better himself. Besides, those guys weren't that scary... he'd faced down Russian death squads that would have made them squirm. It's all about knowing what you're capable of and not being afraid to do it. And having good backup, given that Emma had pretty much saved his hide in that whole situation.

"Anyway, Barry..." Michael sighed, dumping a twist of sugar in his coffee and a dollop of cream. "Please tell me you got at least ten thousand."

The money man frowned and lowered his voice to a whisper; "Look, man... you know how hard it is to get that kind of money together on such short demand... it's not like I can just skim a couple bucks from some South American drug lord - it takes skill... love..."

"Which you have, how much did you get?"


"It was a pretty tall order, Michael... I mean, you come waltzing into Miami like you own the place and sure, maybe you help me out a couple times... but..."

Michael sighs, already frustrated with where this is going; "What do you need, Barry?"

"What makes you think I need something?" He sits back with a wide grin; "I never said anything about needing something."

"Because I'm looking at a big man-purse with room for at least five stacks in it - so you either got me ten g's in twenties and I'm going to be a happy man or you're taking up carpetbagging."

"Carpetbagging, really? What is this, the 19th century? Fine, yes. Yes. There's actually seven stacks - meaning fourteen grand, Mister Perfect Spy guy."

"Fourteen, I'll bite - you're trying to get me to take another four to do you a favor?"

Barry smiles without hesitation, sipping his drink. "See, it's sort of like this... there's this bookie..."

[not_his_pa]

The amount of money they're talking about is more than William knows he'll probably ever seen in a few years and he keeps quiet.

Barry seems like someone who trouble goes around him like gamblers and drinkers who spend too long at saloons and always owe someone something.

[luvs_yogurt]

It's a good assessment.

"Barry... you handle millions of dollars a you owe money to a bookie?" Michael grimaces - figuring it's even worse than he thought.

"What? No! God, no... Michael, come on. You know I don't touch the kind of shit bookies get wrapped up in. See... it's sort of... my Mom." He frowns and looks around, lowering his voice to an animated whisper; "A friend of hers got mixed up with some off track betting - small stuff, but you know it is. Couple months you might win a few hundred bucks, next thing you know you're running high odds double or nothings with a loan shark breathing down your neck. Well, this guy extended her a line of credit and now he's trying to collect."

"That's what loan sharks do, Barry... they issue loans and then collect at insane markup."

"Yeah, well... what kind of sick bastard puts a seventy year old woman in the hospital? I mean, loan shark or not he beat a grandmother with a baseball bat."

Michael is silent for a long moment, sure - it was horrible... but people do horrible things and when you get mixed up with criminals bad things happen. He knows from personal experience. "Barry... I can't right now, okay? I've got a thing going on and..." he looks at William, wishing he hadn't heard any of it. It twists his gut to know that if he doesn't do it he'll look like exactly the kind of asshole that would beat a little old lady with a baseball bat. "What do you want me to do, Barry? I'm not paying someone else's gambling debt."

"No, no... of course not. Just... you know, do your spy thing and get him out of Miami. You know I don't ask how you do the things you do."

[not_his_pa]

William makes a face at Barry, he can't even take care of his own family and he's asking Michael to, that doesn't seem right,

"No, but you'll ask him to do it before doin' it yourself."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael extends his hand and gently brushes his knuckles against William's wrist. Barry's not that kind of guy - in his mind, he's taking care of it by hiring someone that he knows will handle the problem.

Barry clams up and downs the remainder of his drink, shaking his head; "You know what, fine... maybe it was a bad idea - I'll talk to Sam or something..."

"I'll do it." Michael frowns, looking up at him intently; "But you're gonna owe me. And I'm not talking money."

"I know, I know... it's not about the money..."

"I'm gonna need a week..." he sighs, already putting together a plan. "Write down all this guy's information, anything you've got. And I want the number of one of your designer knockoff guys."

He grins wide; "Oh? Fi in the market for a little..."

"Fi's gone, but think I know someone that can pull it off."

"I like your style, Westen... little blondie?"

Michael glares at him; "Just get me the information before we leave. I'm doing another job later on."

"Speaking of which, I did talk with my favorite toy guru and he found the device you were looking for." Barry raises his pierced brow again and slides a small square device with several wires across the table; "It's not an explosive like you were talking about, but he said if you wire this into a system - it'll send a kill signal to everything on it."

[not_his_pa]

At the brush, William takes a drink of his coffee, if Michael's willing to do it than clearly he knows more. The way he works is just a little more complicated than it seems.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael picks up the device and examines it closely; "It's an override chip... this could work." A thin smile crosses his face; "I might forgive you for roping me into this."

"Hey, if you call enough money to keep that gas guzzler happy for a year 'force' then I'm more than happy to take it back."

He shakes his head and puts his shades back on as the waitress comes around again. "I think I'll catch some eggs while you work on thinking straight."

"Actually," Barry finishes with a flourish and then tears the page out of his notebook and slides it across to Michael. "I've got a hot date with a masseuse and some hot rocks." He pushes up from the table and drops the bag beside William. "Smile, kid - you're starting to look like him."

"Bye, Barry... let me know how your Mom's doing after I clear this up."

"You know it, man. I'll help her bake some cookies or something."

Michael shook his head, almost laugh under his breath. Once Barry was out of earshot, he murmured; "He's one of the reasons when you're a spy you shouldn't get too friendly with your assets - if they're willing to talk about their mother's gambling problem, then they're willing to talk to someone else about your problems."

Barry, unfortunately, was a lot of talk in a loud shirt with spiky hair. But, he was like a Florida underworld phone book. Anything you need, he can get it with enough time and motivation. When they guy that saved your life a week ago is asking, motivation to keep said guy happy is pretty high.

[not_his_pa]

He manages a sort of smile, but its not true,

"Yeah, hard to know who you can trust or what's worth owin' to them. We goin' to eat here?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Unfortunately, Michael's learned pretty well how to see through the half-smiles.

"Honestly? The only person you can trust is yourself. But right now, my life's kind of built on favors until I can get back where I belong."

His eyes dart down to the bag of cash, most of which is already ear marked between the cost of surveillance, pending jobs and the work he still has to put into the Charger.

"Yeah, you see something you're interested in trying?"

[not_his_pa]

"And family when you can. Don't really recognize all of it, but some bacon and eggs would be nice,"

The names are fancier than he expects for breakfast.

[luvs_yogurt]

Even worse for being the sort of place they charge tourists three dollars for water with a lemon in it.

"You got it," he nods - the sentiment applicable to both statements. No matter how much he fears the day he has to rely on his Mom... and still feels the pain of having to rely on Nate somewhat recently... they're family. In a way, Sam's a natural extension of that. The people he can trust with his life.

When the waitress comes by he orders two basic meals and more coffee - catching sight of a man in a black jacket that had pulled up behind them when they arrived. He was sitting alone and drinking water - no menu in front of him.

Quietly, he whispers; "We're being followed."

[not_his_pa]

William takes a drink of his coffee to whisper back, "Hell, what should we do?"

[luvs_yogurt]

He considers his options and puts together a basic enough plan; "I'm going to excuse myself to use the mens room - when I get up check to see how many people move like they're also going in - men or women, especially the man in the black jacket close to the other set of doors. When I get to the door I'm going to turn back around to come back to the table and I want you to hold one finger for each person that moves on the table."

Michael takes a long drink of his coffee before asking; "Sound like a plan?"

[not_his_pa]

"Yeah, I can do that,"

His seat's facing more of the restaurant so he's got a decent view.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael nods and laughs suddenly - loud enough to get attention but not enough to appear off to anyone but William who knows he's not telling a joke.

"Anyway, I gotta hit the can - if the waitress comes back, have her top off my coffee okay? I'll be right back!" He nods to William and slowly heads toward the set of glass doors leading into the restaurant from the patio.

When he touches the handle, he sees the man in black stand up and quickly turns back toward the table; "Oh my God, can you believe I forgot my phone!" He laughs again, shaking his head hard enough to get a good glance at the man as he quickly heads back to the table and picks up his phone - hoping for just one.

[not_his_pa]

It all seems so fake that William's amazed the man falls for it and William smiles and rolls his eyes,

"Yeah, you're always forgettin' somethin'."

[luvs_yogurt]

Searching for the signal, Michael picks up his phone and slips it back in his pocket - taking the opportunity to wrap his fingers around the small butterfly knife he kept tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, you never know who'll be trying to send me a message, right?"

[not_his_pa]

"Watched pot never boils, you told me the same thing's true with women,"

He's keeping an eye on the man watching them while doing his best to be bratty.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Oh, I think this pot's pretty damn hot." He murmurs, flashing an honest smile before turning and looking his follower dead in the eyes as he gets up and walks toward the same set of doors Michael was heading for.

"If I'm not right back, I fell in... send the cavalry."

His fingers grip tighter on the knife and he slides it up just high enough to flash the metal handle at William as he walks away. The problem with working with someone who's never been in the field with you is that signals get jumbled, misread, and flat out unnoticed. He can only hope William's got a good idea that he's about to let their friend corner him somewhere a little more private and if it takes longer than William's comfortable with he should follow.

[not_his_pa]

It takes a moment but he sees it and nods,

"Right, too much to do today."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael nods and squeezes his hand tight around the metal grip, letting out another laugh as he heads toward the glass doors.

One guy. Big guy... from the look of him eastern bloc, he can't tell until he gets a better look... which will probably involve some form of weapon being held against him.

Without further pause, he makes his way to the restroom steps into a cubical - locking the door behind him. It won't be much to deter an assassin, but if he's he's the shoot first ask questions later type it'll give Michael enough advantage to find out.

Standing behind the cubical door, he pulls out the small knife and silently curses himself for not wearing his out of the car. He hates to wear it in public because it identifies him as the kind of guy that needs to carry a gun, but lately it's been sounding more and more like a good idea.

He hears the door open, and then close - but thankfully not the dull click of the lock. If he gets pinned down he's still got theoretical backup.

"Oh, come now little spy... hiding in the toilets? You can do better than this." The big guy's Slavic accent is thick, but his English is good.

"I am," he replies calmly; "who sent you, the Russians?"