Chapter 46 - Putting the Pieces Together

   When we finally made it back home, I looked like hell. Vladimir surely wasn't going back to Brooklyn. When we got off the sport jet, Vlad looked at us. One of the guys at the range had elected to pick us all up. He asked what had happened, we told him I just got in a little accident on vacation, but that it was nothing serious. Some stitches and my shoulder would be sore for a while. I can remember when we said the same thing about Panic taking a round in the shoulder, when we headed here to lay low.

   Vlad had looked around. He honestly had zero intention of going back to Brooklyn. He tagged along. He stayed with us about a week, and he asked about renting a house. He found an old fashion frame house on the edge of Wrightsville. Located at the end of a short twisting gravel road, it was quiet. Vladimir liked peace and quiet.

   Two rooms downstairs, two rooms upstairs. The bottom two rooms were living room and kitchen, bathroom off of an enclosed and reclaimed side porch. Stone basement, two bedrooms upstairs.

   I always get a kick out of him meeting anyone. Hi, what's your name? Vladimir. Vladimir, Radiscononovich. Oh. Where are you from? Brooklyn.

   Somehow, its the way he says "Brook-Lynn" with his heavy Russian accent, that makes it a giggle.

   Panic spent a lot of time sitting around, thinking. He had his all but patented Swiss watch look, the cogs are turning, that face going on. I just brought him coffee, cold drinks, snacks. I never said a word.

   One day we went shopping, accompanying Little Lightning on her shopping trip. She likes to scout vintage stores, junk shops, consignments and the like. My shoulder was still sore. I was still getting used to using my right arm again, and I would rest my arm when it got sore, which was constantly.

   Old clothes. Light was picking through, determined to find something old and retro for casual wear. Panic wandered over, and was looking at old time dress clothes. He found a very old tuxedo, and he was looking at the long row of men's hats. There was a time that every man had hats, and they went with your suit. Every blue collar worker would wear a suit when not working, it was a different time.

   There, at the end of the row of men's dress hats? It sat. Real, not a reproduction. An honest to goodness top hat. Panic picked it up and was handling it. Then, he looked at me. He bought it. When we were home and alone, he was just... sitting with the top hat in his lap. Staring. I finally asked what the concentration was all about.

   "Its a top hat."

   "I see this."

   "The Spanish word for top hat? El sombrero de copa. And, since we say top-hat here in America? You help out a native English speaker. With a literal word for word translation. Copa sombrero."

   I know this, but he sounds different this time.

   "I think I just figured something out."

   "What."

   "The code name. Of the... American spy that arranged all this."

   "And, your new idea?"

   "Top hat. Who wears a top hat, once again?"

   "Rich guys, up through the roaring twenties."

   "Yeah. They did. But? Who wears them still, today."

   I shrugged.

   "Magicians. Its a magician's stage item, these days. The traditional magician? Wears a tuxedo sort of suit, and always has a top hat and a cane."

   Holy shit.

   "And? If your work nickname, was... The Magician? What would a good Spanish code name to use, even be. Huh? Top, hat. El sombrero de copa, and copa sombrero to make it literal."

   He paused.

   "Magic Michael. The Magician. Honestly? That's probably who Copa Sombrero is."

   I guess he could be right.

   We had talked to Mike since we had gotten home, and not let on anything was amiss. When Mike finally got a little break at work, he came in for a visit. Decent weather, so we met him at the range. Panic had closed the range without telling him. Panic wanted to quiz him about it all.

   Mike brought his gear bag in, and left it unzipped next to him on an old couch in the bunkhouse he sat on. We were in old overstuffed armchairs across from the beat up coffee table donated by someone.

   Panic got him a cold can of soda, and stood behind him for a second. He tapped him lightly and affectionately on the shoulders.

   "Just happened to get you a present, Mike."

   He took a sip, leaning back. Finally relaxing after a fast paced stretch at work and was now starting to unwind after the drive to get here.

   "Really. Thanks."

   "More than one, actually. Here's one thing."

   A real South American sombrero. Mike hefted it and checked it out.

   "Wow. Just like, those old wild west cowboy movies."

   Panic nodded.

   "Yeah. And? Had to grab this, once I found the hat."

   It was the thing that looked like a carpet with a head hole in it.

   "Hey. I got the whole outfit, now. God, I'd have died for this as a little kid. You know, playing cowboys and Indians. I'd have been high stepping."

   Panic sighed and grinned.

   "And? Here's your other gift. Just, saw it? Had to have it. Reminded me of you. Figured you'd get a kick out of it."

   He handed him a box. Mike opened it, and... took out the real vintage top hat.

   "Wow. Not sure I ever saw one in real life. Thanks. This? Will make a neat nick knack in my office. I mean it, thanks."

   "I'm always thinking of you, Mike. Just saw the hat and hey. Magician's hat? Had to get it for Mike."

   Mike nodded, tried it on. Mugged with it a bit, then set it beside him. Took another sip.

   "Your, uh. Wicker basket hat. You know what its called?"

   "Yeah. A sombrero."

   "You like trivia. Right?"

   "Sure."

   "We just call that hat? A sombrero. I guess, the first Americans to see them? Pointed and asked. What's this. Que es esto. And? They said... el sombrero. Which? Literally, in Spanish just means... the hat. But, the name stuck with Americans, so... what to us is called a sombrero? Just means... any hat to them."

   "Huh. Did not know that."

   "Its like zapatos. We think its a certain kind of Mexican shoe? Just their word for... shoes. Same deal."

   "Learn something every day."

   "You do learn something every day, Mike. You really do."

   Panic has no emotions on his face, if he doesn't put a mask on. So? He has the ultimate poker face if he so chooses. His body? Doesn't naturally show his emotional state. So again, unless he puts on body language deliberately? Again, he gives nothing away. Even if he really is excited or nervous? It doesn't show. But, the quality with which he talked about learning something new every day? Set Mike's creepy meter off.

   "Panic?"

   "Mike."

   "Is something up?"

   "Why, Mike."

   "I, just... you sometimes can make me feel a little... on edge."

   Panic just shrugged.

   "On you. Did I say anything to you? Lighten up. We're like family, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Oh. Did you know, I found out how to say... top hat? In Spanish recently. On account of I bought a top hat, and I speak Spanish. So? I was curious. I looked it up."

   "No idea. How?"

   Mike was relaxing again, leaning back once more. Another sip of caffeinated sugar water with some color.

   "El sombrero de copa. Literally, to English speakers? The hat, of or from, top. They do that, in Spanish. You wanna say cat? El gato, the cat. But, the big cat, is el gato grande. The cat, big. We say, big cat. If we looked it up with an English to Spanish dictionary? We'd see big, is grande. Cat? Is gato. So, an English speaker with a dictionary, would say... grande gato."

   "Take your word for that."

   "Guess that's like, foreigners. Learn English words, speak it a little. We hear their words out of order to our ears. And, if you get used to how they switch words and modifiers and verbs around? You can switch the way you say stuff, make it easier on them."

   "Guess you could."

   Panic nodded.

   "For instance. Top hat? Literally, if a Spanish person were ordering the words, to help you out. They would just say... copa sombrero. Top hat."

   He just stared at Mike. He was dropping his face slowly. Mike froze in the middle of a sip, and slowly lowered his drink.

   "What's the matter, Mike. I make you nervous again? Set your creepy meter off."

   Mike said nothing. His hand started a little tremor, but he otherwise kept his cool.

   "But, I'm pretty sure you heard that phrase before. Copa Sombrero. Haven't you. Like I said. You learn something new? Every, single, day."

   Mike was now quite nervous, and it was working into his voice. He spoke softer now.

   "How long have you known."

   "Not that long."

   "Really."

   "Actually? I was just thinking it made perfect sense. Not guaranteed. But? You confirmed it for me, just now. Thanks."

   "You bastard."

   "Me? I'm the bastard."

   "Just... cut the shit, Panic. Get to it."

   "The whole thing? Its been right in front of my face, the whole time. I had clues, a ways back. Like, the first time you met Little Robbie. I remember. You just looked at him? Said hi, Rob. He didn't think anything of it. I didn't either, until later. But how did you know his name, without asking. Then another time, it hit me. You ran my jacket, back when I met Merry. I was talking about the equator, and... you confirmed it for her. I wasn't nuts or making shit up."

   Mike was silent.

   "You didn't work down the hall from that work. Need to know. And to know my real name, even though I go by my mom's maiden name. Only? The guy that worked on that, could get that information. But, that's no sin. Because you got out of the intelligence game, when things were getting kinky, right?"

   "Sure did. You did too."

   "I did. But? I went back to the real world."

   Mike shook his head and gave a nervous little chuckle.

   "Panic? Where's this going. You know I used to run intelligence, and we've talked about the equator before. The fact I worked it, when I was still Army Intelligence? Isn't exactly fresh news, to us."

   "No. But, you being Copa Sombrero, is new. You see, Copa Sombrero was the name given to the... American spy, which is how they put it... that arranged everything. Particularly? The zombies hired, to move on the villagers. And why. It made the price of the coal? Go up. It made the host country, happy. They wanted to get rid of the villagers anyways."

   Mike was silent again now.

   "In fact? I spent years, believing that billionaire was the cause of all that mess. I hated him. When all along? He was just trying to get the coal for French industrialism. Copa Sombrero? He arranged to hire the zombie squads. Some former ARC, right wing guerrilla fighters from the jungles of Colombia. So, Copa Sombrero? He's the real butcher. Not... The Devil."

   Mike was quiet, but spoke again.

   "Panic? This is old shit. You know I got out of intelligence. That? I didn't like it. There. And that's why. That one? Left a really bad taste in my mouth. I couldn't spit it out. We both got fed up, and went on with our lives. We both? Did something where we could help people, instead of hurt them."

   "Yeah. We'll get to that part, believe me."

   "Panic? I've spent the last couple weeks. Handling? Yet one more shit-storm. Someone else took a shit, and I have to change all the diapers. Why are you trying to ruin my down time. I know you're raw about those days, and what went on. But news flash, buddy. We all are."

   "Well? You're kinda right about everything, up until this."

   He handed him a tablet, with a document open.

   "The hell am I even looking at."

   "I was looking for the billionaire. Found him, too. But you know what? He managed to convince me."

   "You? You met, The Devil."

   "Sure did. But, he convinced me. Wasn't his idea to start a war like that. He just wanted his damn coal. He said it was the French government said they'd get him some help. With the villagers who didn't feel like moving off their land they had probably been living on for so many generations, they thought it was theirs."

   "Guy's name? Is The Devil, Panic. Let that sink in. There's a whole country, that hates the guy. And you? Just... buy his story. Just like that."

   "He was very convincing. Made sense, too. Then? I took a little side trip. Make the vacation more... interesting."

   "I'm all ears."

   "Those aren't knock offs. The sombrero? The... carpet cowboy cloak? Real deal. South American, hand made. Brazil, actually."

   "The hell were you even doing in Brazil."

   "Had an interesting meeting with a new friend I made. A guy that was once an officer, in the ARC. One of the splinter military units roped in, to be zombie death squads. I mean, the Colombian war was over. Convenient. They're already trained to be complete assholes like that."

   "How in the hell, did..."

   "Fifty grand? Goes a long way, in South America. Must be the exchange rate. That got me the code name, of whoever arranged all the hell that got raised. Good old, Copa Sombrero. No name, but. American spy? Means he worked in intelligence. Top Hat. Cute way to say... The Magician."

   "Panic? I ended my career, over the bad taste in my mouth. I felt like the prom queen that got drunk? And her date really rammed it in."

   "That? Actually, I can stomach that part, too. But, you know what the really strange part of that whole meeting was?"

   "Here we go. What."

   "I used a very unique name. So, when my new friend tried to run my jacket, if he has that kind of juice? Its now a game of hot potato. Anyone at the FBI, has that name? And there's no one else, ever, with that name before. That, is a leak. And, imagine my surprise. When, this guy that works for a drug lord... can just pick up the phone, get access in minutes, to the FBI. And, not just anyone at the FBI. But? You."

   Mike now stared at him.

   "But I'll tell you what really floored me, Mike. Here..."

   And Panic opened the folder of pictures of Mike meeting with the hit team. Handing him the tablet again, so he could scroll through the pictures.

   "My favorite? I'd have to go with the big envelope. Payoff, documentation. Whatever. Because that? Is a new low."

   "How in the hell, did you ever... and while I'm at it, how in the hell did you find a former ARC working for a drug lord, for Christ's sake. Panic? You have some very strange vacation habits."

   "Bermuda? Honestly, its paradise this time of the year. Mike. I took the pictures, you're looking at."

   "Who the hell else knows about this."

   "Why, Mike. Am I just a loose end to be wrapped up now, maybe."

   "I would never..."

   "And if you would? Well. Mike, you're gonna call yourself a magician? Really, you owe it to yourself. To get some tricks together. When I touched your shoulders? I know you're not wearing a shoulder rig. No bulges around your waist. I'd notice those. When I nudged your foot, asking if you wanted a cold drink? That was one ankle. And when I gently nudged the other one, handing it to you? No little backup piece on your ankle. Not that you really wear one much anyways. You're more... management, than field guy. But, I'm thorough."

   Part of Panic's little magic shows. For the boys around the fire at the range, camping out and shooting for their vacations. He palms things, and takes them. You don't even notice, and he's doing it right front of you. Mike glanced over at his gear bag. His hand went in slowly, and realized he was disarmed.

   "Looking for this? No."

   Panic took the clip out, and popped all the rounds off and tossed them all over his shoulder after checking the chamber was empty.

   "The hell even is this."

   "We're all alone. Private talk."

   Mike was very nervous now. You could see him gulp, and get some tremors.

   "So? Talk. Explain this. I can almost live with everything, except the part where I see you smiling and either paying off, or providing logistical support... to a Russian hit team. Mike? Two innocent engine workers, were killed in that explosion. Lightning strike? On a clear day? Fuck all that noise. I was there. I saw a detonation on the horizon, not an explosion. And there was no lightning."

   Mike didn't know what to say.

   "And you almost killed three of my friends. Thank god, they were scuba diving when it blew."

   Not a peep out of him.

   "The hell you got to say for yourself, Mike."

   "Panic, you have to appreciate, I---"

   Panic suddenly roared at him. Out of nowhere.

   "Me and Merry were supposed to be on that damn boat! There's only three sets of scuba gear! You almost got us killed, too! Asshole!"

   "I didn't know. I'm sorry. How could I know."

   "About the only thing in your favor, in my book right now. You probably wouldn't have wanted me and Merry dead. If you did? You'd have burned us, when you ran our jacket. I bet you were surprised, when you saw our pictures, huh."

   "Oh. You have... no idea. But no. I just... told him parking tickets. Made your cover name, seem real. Regardless of what I do? I'd never try to hurt you or Merry. Christ, you two are like my niece and nephew."

   "Good feels. Knowing the guy you think of like an uncle? Arranges contracts on people. Nice. You're a real class act, Mike."

   Mike just deflated suddenly. Like a helium balloon, the day after a party. Soft, no longer floating. Just bumps along the floor now. Panic just issued a soft order.

   "Talk. Start talking. I mean, the hell do you even have to say for yourself."

   "Do I like it all? Not just no. But hell no. Wasn't my idea, and I don't like it one bit. But, stuff like that goes on. Every country does it. And, the guy that arranged the hit? He's no goddamn prize, trust me on that one. He got taken out, so... some poetic justice there."

   "Oh. I know he's taking a dirt nap. I was there. I was with the team that put an end to his bullshit. You can believe that. Did you know, in Russia? If you steal or do bad things, they cut your hands off, as a warning to watch what you put your hands into. The cut off tongue? To them, is a sign to everyone they were a lying no good prick anyways. And the face? Well. Guy's dead anyways. Why not. You wanna get your point across loud and clear. You take contracts on civilians? That's a naughty boy."

   "What, you gonna kill me now, I guess."

   Panic shrugged.

   "We'll see, won't we. But start talking. You never know."

   He knew Panic was serious, and what's more... he knows he can and will do it. Panic's made him very nervous before, not even trying to. Mike knew the kind of work he ended up doing around the equator. So, he was nervous around him at first.

   "Panic? Would it make any difference to you, if I was just following orders."

   "Really. The FBI, asked you to arrange contracts on foreign civilians. Over financial shit. An innocent wife, two innocent engine men. Just, what. Acceptable collateral damage to you. The FBI, wants you to run jackets for South American drug lords. That's how it is now. We're in bed with people like this now."

   "Panic? Honestly, I'm just following orders."

   "Who gives orders like this."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Normally, I wouldn't say. But seriously? I honestly think its possible you might kill me, so..."

   Panic snickered with a completely dropped and emotionless face now. As I've said before. The two? Don't go together. This combination comes off more like a death mask with an evil little laugh. Its shiver material.

   "Oh, its entirely possible. You almost killed three of my friends. Two of them? Like my brothers. Third guy's getting there quick, too. And... if Little Lightning and Merry would have decided to go. And I stayed on the beach instead... Mike? Not just whistling Dixie. We wouldn't even be talking right now. You'd already be dead."

   Mike went white, and grinned out of nervous fear. Definitely not out of amusement.

   "So, Panic. I get my chance to explain, right?"

   "Yeah. I mean, this I gotta hear."

   Mike was resigned, and deflated.

   "All right. The beginning. You know I was military intelligence. No secret there."

   "Go on. No sin yet."

   "And? Not like you weren't in the military. You follow orders. They're not suggestions. You don't get an opinion. Did I ever object to an order? Hell, yes. All you hear. Objection noted. Now? Pretty please, with bird seed on it. Go, and follow the fucking order."

   Panic shrugged.

   "You're two for two. I gotta give you that one. Been there, done that. Its on the guy issuing the order, and once you object? Its all on him."

   Mike shrugged with his face.

   "Panic? I was good at it. I just didn't like some of the things I had to do, or the way I was made to go about doing it. Yeah. I've been a nervous wreck, most of my career."

   "So, you got out of it. I know that part."

   "Well? This could cost me my life, so. Here we go. Military intelligence. I was objecting, but following orders. The plan was... I'm disenchanted with my career, I want out. I'm a stand up guy, I'm not spilling any beans? I just want out. And? With my skill set, they suggested I'd be a great addition for the FBI. Hey, let him bring in a modern intelligence operation skill set."

   "So. You're saying, you never actually quit the military intelligence."

   "Officially? Of course. But, unofficially? That's what they wanted. I mean, the FBI is the clearing house for information and intelligence, disseminated to all the other agencies. It was like putting a radar dish in just the right spot. That was the plan."

   "But, you're actually effective at your job."

   "Of course I am. But? I still follow orders. I'm basically an undercover operative for my intelligence agency. If you really think about it that way? Maybe now it makes perfect sense."

   Panic just studied him.

   "I can't believe this."

   Mike shrugged.

   "You can't believe it? Or, you just don't like believing it."

   "Mike. What happened to the... do the right thing speech. Was that just, what. A made up bullshit story, to tug on the heart strings, I guess."

   "Nope. True. Just... you're going to next ask, why did I agree to it."

   "Fair question."

   "Answer. If I don't do it? They'll get someone just like me, but without a conscience. This is going to go down either way, it might as well be with me trying to keep the shenanigans down to a dull roar."

   "You call what just went on---"

   Mike held his palms up.

   "It wasn't my idea. I can't stop everything I don't like. I honestly don't know what you want me to do. Put yourself in my shoes."

   "So, you are the leak."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Technically, I guess."

   "Christ. And the director has you looking for the leak. I mean, don't that just beat all."

   "Panic? They didn't name it... military stupidity, you know. Its military intelligence. We're supposed to play smarter, not harder."

   "Mike. You can't go around sanctioning innocent people."

   "Whatever provides the most benefit? Is what you go with. The decisions are out of my hands. But Panic. Did I burn you? No. And I never would. Why do you think I have a sense of humor, about some of the shit you pull. Come on."

   "Mike. That guy? Was going to really do the right thing. Big time."

   "Not what I heard. He was rocking the boat, bad. You can't rock the national and international big finance game at that level, Panic. Not without repercussions. Entire countries are on the line."

   "Mike? I'll level with you. If I even think, you're double crossing me? I'm capable of some things, that might surprise even you."

   He showed him a little video file. He let Mike watch it.

   It was a silent video. A person walking through a pitch black house. It took Mike a while, to realize... it was his house. Then, to have it strike him. That if he didn't make this video, who did. Then, he saw a dark face in the mirror, on the clip.

   Panic made a video, of himself breaking in silently and walking around his own house. While him and his family were asleep. No alarm went off, no noise, nothing. Mike looked like he had seen a ghost. The video showed it. Him, his wife. Sleeping. Close ups, so close? Their night time breath fogged the lens.

   Panic just nodded, and grinned. The death mask and the grin? Are unlikely companions.

   "Mike? That's just one of those, so we understand each other, completely... kind of things."

   "Christ."

   "Mike? You killed two innocent men. You almost killed three of my friends. Could have been me, Merry, and Light, too. You could have killed all six of us. So yeah. I feel that little reminder of what I'm capable of? Is necessary."

   "Oh, my, god..."

   "Mike. Do you even have a god."

   Uncle Mikey just looked at him.

   "The hell's even wrong with you."

   Panic shrugged. I exploded verbally out of nowhere.

   "I told you once? You never say that! Ever! I wasn't kidding! There's not a god damn thing wrong with him! There's something right about him!"

   Mike looked like the dog that was getting the raspberries for the puddle of piss being shown to him on the carpet.

   "You know how we solved this, Mike? There's that moment. If you don't see it, you miss that? You have nothing. Hey. I? Had nothing. But Merry. She told me. The murder investigators? Hunches. Go by the gut. Instincts. So? She asked me. What are your hunches. What's your gut tell you. You got instincts. And honest to god. I always felt, just felt? Like I was being played for a fool. All of us. Down at the equator."

   Panic paused.

   "And I told her? I feel like I'm missing something. Something, I should be seeing. Like I'm putting my coffee cup down every day, on an elephant's head. I just don't see the damn thing. Like, I'm using the elephant's head. For my coffee table. Right in front of my face? Just not seeing it."

   He went on.

   "So? That's what I did. Listed my hunches. Decided? Let's treat the hunches, as facts. Operated like that, see how it went. And you know what? Shit started popping off, slowly after that. Knew I had something. But you know what? It was just the funniest thing, really. Because you know me, Mike. Above all else? I really do have a sense of humor. Gallows humor sometimes, but still. How, many, times. You have no idea, how many."

   Mike was curious now.

   "What."

   "One of us would look at the other. God, I wish Uncle Mike was here. He'd know what to do. He used to be in intelligence. This is the exact sort of shit, he knows all about. He could sort this mess out. All the time. Wish Mike was here. Because Mike? He'd say... oh. I've used that trick before. Here, this is how you fuck them, when you pick up on that."

   He waited.

   "Like I said. It really was? An elephant in the room. And the elephant? Is named... Mike."

   Mike shook his head.

   "Are you going to do it? Then lets just get it over with. We're friends. Just, make it quick. And, just promise me. You won't..."

   He pointed at the video on the table he had seen. A dark ghost passing over him and his wife, sleeping. Christ. The angel of death was in his house. Passed right over him.

   "...just leave my wife out of it. She has nothing to do with this."

   Panic sighed.

   "Mike? I can't judge you, black and white. Karma. You can only judge a person? By the situation they're in. Its a philosophy? Not a religion. Because religion? Is for people who are afraid of going to hell. But philosophy? That's for people that have already been there. And I was. I saw hell, Mike. Up close, and personal. And I tried to help. I jumped in with both feet? And got down on their level. And some of the things I did? I'd say you have no idea, but... actually? You do."

   Mike sighed. He did know.

   "So? I have to judge you, by how things are for you. And... you're not the mustache twirling villain, I was looking to find."

   Mike got a little of the color back in his face, at that revelation.

   "So? We're going to see. What you're really made of. And you know what? I'm going to make this really easy. For you. Watch? Carefully."

   Panic got up. Stretched. Ambled around, and retrieved all the rounds he had popped off the top of Mike's clip and had then tossed back over his shoulder. Like so much salt from a spilled table shaker. He loaded his clip for him. Showed him carefully. He slowly inserted it up into his handgun, and... slowly pulled the slide back. Tilted it, so he could see the glint of brass right there. When the slide dropped, it would have one in the pipe. Ready to go. He let the slide go, and it rammed home.

   He lowered the hammer carefully? And nudged the coffee table out of the way between them. He pulled his easy chair up, so it was right on him. Their feet were about to touch shoes. Panic sat down. Looked him right in the eye? And ever so gently, placed his obviously loaded handgun, right in his lap. He tapped Mike's knees rather affectionately, and grinned. His go to mask. The little corner of one lip, that gentle little curl.

   "There you go. If I know too much? Well. You got your big problem. There's your surprisingly simple solution."

   "Panic, I---"

   Panic spoke softly now.

   "No, Mike. No more games. Go on. You need to break this egg, to go back to making your little omelet? Go ahead. You have? My blessing. I'm tired, Mike. And I'm the kind of tired? Sleep can't fix it. So, for once in your whole career? Do it yourself. Here."

   He thumbed the hammer back for him, and pushed the safety in. Reverently laid it in his lap once again.

   "Just... push the little safety button, and? Easy."

   Mike just looked at him.

   "How hard can this really be for you, Mike. All those innocent villagers. A husband and a wife, their two employees, recently. You obviously have zero problems? With the whole concept. So go ahead."

   Mike just looked at the gun, and to Panic. Back and forth. He couldn't believe this.

   "What. My face? I'll make it easy."

   He lowered his face. So he could just do the back of his head.

   "I'm waiting."

   "Panic. Stop this."

   He came up after a little bit.

   "Maybe, I should make you pissed. Mike? You're nothing. You? Are a god damn coward. You sent everyone into harms way? And you sit behind your desk. Will you just for once. In your... pathetic little existence? Just once. Have the testicular fortitude, to just... do it with your own hand. I died once, Mike. They restarted my heart. And? I put myself down, with Morphine before. Injured. Can't get the team killed, just cause one guy got hurt. I give my location, and punch out on the Morphine. I always woke up. But going to sleep? You wonder."

   He put his head down again, longer.

   "I'm still waiting."

   Nothing.

   "Well. Maybe? I just need to raise the temperature of your blood. Get it moving. Raise that heart rate. That does it for some guys."

   He slapped him. Hard. He did it twice more.

   "There. Now? Once again. I want you, to do it."

   Head down again.

   "Waiting."

   After a time he came up. Mike got the bug on a pin look. Studied.

   "Maybe, I should have Merry stand behind me. You can finish fucking her up, the rest of the way. Go on. Blow my brains, into her eyes and mouth. Just like before, twenty years ago when it happened to her. Probably work out good for you. You'll get your precious healthy sociopath back, that you liked so much. When you found that little gem, had came out of all that mess back then."

   Pause.

   "Because who else but an intelligence operator? Would value that. She was a real diamond in the rough. And you knew, Mike. Oh, you just knew. What kind of special, secret hatred. She would have... for dirty cops. No. She'd hunt them for you? Like no one's business. Because she had something to prove. She had a real ax to grind. And? You could really use that, for what you had in mind."

   He winked at me.

   "A sociopath. One that spent time learning how to act. Take on other people's faces and body language and mannerisms. The ultimate actor. You gave her a role? She could really get into. She could finally be? Someone else. No emotions to get in the way, either. She really was? Too perfect, to let that go to waste."

   He gestured at me again.

   "You told her, she was hunting dirty FBI agents. Didn't even tell her, the real game. When you find one finally? You knew it led up the trail. To the dirty dozen, in the city police force."

   Mike shrugged.

   "It worked. Look at all the good that came out of that."

   "Yeah. In the end. But? She almost got killed. They came into her room? To assassinate her. In her own bed, while she slept. Really? She should have been dead. How was that supposed to go, Mike. Was she just, what. The trip wire? The... burglar alarm. The murder you could finally pin on them. You used her. As bait. You were fishing? And she was the worm."

   He clapped his knees affectionately again.

   "But the universe? Had other plans. I was there that night. Merry? Didn't know what I was yet. Not fully. But you? You did. From the first night we started talking. She texted you? To run my jacket. Is this guy okay? I like him. So, you knew what she had picked up with."

   Mike stared him back, and spoke softly.

   "Yeah. I knew who you were. And having you around her? Best damn security she could get. Guy who once squared off with right wing death squads, in the jungles around the equator? Yeah. Dirty cops? Like it would even be fair. You were the best thing that could have ever happened to her."

   "And that night behind that turf bar? From the moment she started telling you her idea. You just knew."

   "Panic. You? Then, Rob and Skykid. There was no way, that was her tactics. It was obvious. So yeah. Like I wasn't supposed to know, that was you and she was just helping out. And once again? You were the best thing for her. My asset? Couldn't get any safer."

   "And, taking out most of the dirty dozen."

   "Hey. Like that, was a bad thing. How many other innocents, had those assholes already killed. They had it coming."

   "They did."

   "And just look. At all the good, that got done. Panic? You were the gift, that just kept on giving. You, that code of yours. That... sense of justice. That unique set of skills. Merry. You. Match made in heaven."

   "Yeah, Mike. Till death do us part. Mike? Me and Merry. We were supposed to be, on that boat. The boys? Were teasing me. To get me on the boat, for fishing and scuba diving with them. Little Lightning, too. You came this close? To killing me, Merry and Little Lightning along with everyone else."

   Mike looked around. Panic spoke softly.

   "Mike. The hell would you have felt like, when you found that out."

   "I... glad I didn't have to find that one out."

   Now Mike waited. Paused, before continuing.

   "So? Where are we at."

   Panic sighed.

   "I meant what I said. I can't judge you on a single action, or even a set of actions. Not without taking into account, the whole situation. You really think you're doing the right thing."

   "I do."

   "So? No, more, secrets. Just, tell me what went on. The equator, and... this boat shit. What the fuck, Mike. I mean, seriously."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Honestly? When I saw your face, down in Brazil. Pictures of a certain private jet. They have tail numbers, you know. Being honest? I thought you were there, to... thought you were taking another run, at The Devil. You talked about it once. How you tried, when you first got back to the real world. You just couldn't seal the deal. When I saw it was you, and you were around him? Christ. I figured you were on his ass, and he was shit on toast."

   "I was. I even had him, too. Dead to rights."

   "The guy you wanted dead, for all those years. For everything that went on. What the hell."

   "Mike? I judged him. Like I just did you. Not by one thing, but by looking at everything that went into the decisions. And you know what? He's not The Devil. Not at all. He's actually? The complete opposite. He's... some kind of messiah. He's found a way? To really make a difference. A big one."

   Mike just looked at him. It really can be hard to fathom Panic's motives sometimes.

   "But? We'll get back to that. Let's get to the no more secrets part. I got most of the picture now, on my TV. Just needs, a little fine tuning. You doubt me?"

   Mike ran his fingers through his hair. One of his nervous tics.

   "Not really, no."

   "So? Start at the beginning. Just before? Equator."

   "France? Was like America. They ran out of coal. Lots of iron ore left, on their eastern fields. But without the coal? No point to it. They sent The Devil out, to do one thing. Find coal. A lot of it. Get the rights? And bring it back."

   "He did that, Mike. He did that? In god damn spades. The fuck was the problem there."

   "He ran into a snag."

   "The villagers."

   "Yeah. There's a saying in politics. Never let a good crisis, go to waste."

   Panic grinned. No more death mask. At least not for the moment, anyways. He finished it for him.

   "And, if you don't have a crisis? Just make one."

   "Yes."

   "Fill in the blanks, Mike."

   "Well? He found his coal. Just the villagers, now. He calls the French government. Hey. Little problem, here. Help me out, I got what you want, give me a hand."

   "Here comes the plot. Go on."

   "Well? All friendly governments. The coal? Was an American ally. A third world ally? But a good little friend to have. But they don't like the French that much. French? Had colonialism back in the day. Bad taste. But? America, can deal with them."

   "And, everyone sat down and had a little meeting."

   "Basically. It was like mating elephants, but... it got done. France? Wanted the coal. The government, where the coal was? Wanted to see the coal get sold. So they could try to go from third world, to second world. We don't like the French? But, we will sell the rights to the French investors. On one condition. America? Help us out with our problem. The villagers. They don't understand anything. The government, the cities... all modern. Help us."

   Panic giggled.

   "Like America could send the military down, for that. Kick villagers off of coal fields. And someone got the bright idea. There's a tiny private security company. Offshore. Let's use that. Stock it, with professionals, straight out of the military."

   Mike sighed. Waved his hand.

   "Redwater existed? But, it was just... high end security. It got funded, it got staffed. And? It took orders from the department of defense. So yeah."

   Panic snickered.

   "Except, little problem there. Guys like that, they won't kill innocent villagers. Someone needed to do some kind of... magic trick."

   Panic pointed at Mike.

   "Yeah. Magician, you got any ideas? We're missing something. What's the piece of the puzzle, that would get this moving."

   Panic grinned.

   "They won't do it, but... bring in some assholes? Sic the monsters on the villagers. Then... hire Redwater, to handle the problem. The problem? You create so you can control the solution."

   "There you go. Really not hard to get moving. Out of work guerrilla armies, used to fighting that way already. Wipe out some villages. Government? Calls the United Nations. We got a problem. Will someone, do something."

   "Yeah. The stage was set. France, sends the investors... help. They have no idea what they're getting into. How could they. They're finance guys, not... like you and me. Now that government calls the United Nations again. We have ethnic cleansing going on. Will someone do something? The United nations, decides to hire a team to send down. Document the human rights violations."

   "Here's where I come into the picture. Combat support. Tech guy, that can keep up with the physical nature of the field work."

   "Yeah. Like it was any mystery what would happen, once they started chasing the observation teams around, shooting at them to chase them off."

   Panic laughed.

   "Will someone send us some help. Hello, home office? We need some manpower."

   "The United Nations, asked the United States. To help control this situation. Department of defense? Funded Redwater. Restructured it. Recruited special forces. Gave Redwater, any toys they wanted. Hell. The department of defense? Had new tech toys they needed battle tested. You? Were field testing the new computerized satellite communications, and the in the field portable networks. Another big win."

   "Actually not hard to set the stage up. For the big magic act."

   Mike ran his hands through his hair.

   "Actually, yeah. Easier than anyone thought. You're really only missing one little piece of the puzzle, that you don't fully understand."

   "Fill in the blanks."

   "The coal? This drives the price up. This, is going to get expensive. So, we asked France. This isn't going to work, like you want. The price."

   "Yeah. You got iron ore. Steel mills sitting idle. You need that cheap coal. You're throwing the baby out, with the bathwater."

   "Yeah. But? That fixed itself. France? Had new leadership after that one election. Lots of new players in a lot of positions. Germany, too. They both asked, their big financial guys. Other, Francois guys. Other investment groups."

   "Who said..."

   "Fuck it. You got all these lemons? Make lemonade. Fuck the steel mills. Everyone is betting on all that cheap coal. Found. Rights bought and paid for. Future bets, that coal would get even cheaper, once it gets pouring in? Use that. Bet the other way. Be the small percentage, taking big bets. On the price rising, when everyone knows... its going to fall."

   "So. The French government. Placed big bets around. Bets they knew, would pay off huge."

   "Yeah. France? Wants money. This money? Is big. No work to get it, either. You raise the price of that coal. All those bets the opposite way from the market indications? Pay off huge. The big investors? Were happy. All across France and now Germany, too. All that now high priced coal? Chinese economy was booming, and they can't get their hands on enough coal. They'll pay even more. France would make even more money. Selling the high priced coal, to China. And? You need all these government officials. All through the French and the German government? To not spill the beans. That was easy."

   "Tell them. Wink and a nod. Look how much money you can make. Privately. Knowing which way to bet, beforehand. Just keep your fucking mouths shut."

   Mike raised his hands.

   "There you go. It all worked, like a well oiled machine, too. Simply everybody, and it was huge, trust me on that one. Was happy and got what they wanted. France? Got the coal rights. And the coal. They could get the money out of selling the coal to China, for years. The government that owned coal that had primitive people on top of it? Wanted their problem solved. The ARC guerrilla armies? Colombia was happy as pigs in shit, to have those malcontents running around in their jungles, off somewhere and out of their hair. Redwater? Went overnight. From a little high end security company, to... well, you know what they turned into."

   "Uncle Sam's favorite option, when you can't send the real military. But just as good and twice as mean, because they can fight with no rules now."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Yeah. I'm not happy about it all. Its sausage. Its not pretty how it gets made. Tastes good, though. And everyone likes it. After its made, of course."

   I chimed in. Again.

   "You got that phrase? Making sausage. Off of Target, and my Wizzy."

   "Yeah. I picked it up off them."

   "Well? Quit using it. You don't get to use it. Because it sounds slick."

   "Why not?"

   "Because the former MP's? The sausage factory. Sausage? Was making justice. You're not making justice. So I'll be damned, if you get to use one of Wiz and his friends, favorite sayings? For that. Don't cheapen his memory to me, Mike. You know what he meant to me. You? Can call this shit, what it really is. Breaking eggs, to make the omelet."

   Mike sighed.

   "Sorry, Merry."

   "Well, Mike. You really are, The Magician. Bravo. That whole act, worked out good. Well, for everyone except the villagers, that is. But hey. Who really cares, about a few people in grass huts."

   "Panic? I don't like the way that turned out for them? Any more than you do. Christ. They sent me to the United Nations. To show documentation, of the human rights problems. Trust me, I had to see it. And trust me? It almost cost me my marriage. And, men like me and you. We can't just waltz into some therapist's office. Punch pillows and confide our demons. No. We have to eat it."

   "Hmm. Best time to put you onto your next big magic act. You want out, Mike? Sort of out. FBI. Run the game for them. They can use it. You can do a lot of good, like you're wishing you could. You'll do way less of this kinky shit."

   Mike ran his fingers through his hair again.

   "Pretty much. Yeah. Is it perfect? Hell no. But... instead of getting kicked in the nuts every day, all week long? I just get a gentle kick in the sack, couple times a year. Its not perfect, but its better. And Panic? I can't wait to retire. Let someone else handle this shit. Figuring out how to pick up turds, from the clean end. Because me and you? We know. There ain't no clean end, on a turd."

   "Ain't that the truth. But? Those poor villagers. They weren't the only losers, were they. No. You needed one more loser."

   "Who."

   "France? Needed a bad guy. Someone to blame it all on. The Devil."

   "Well... that's on them. Not my idea."

   "Mike? I feel bad for you. I really really do. You think you're doing the right thing, but... over time? They got your moral compass, spinning in circles. You can't even tell right from wrong anymore."

   "That's a little harsh, but... a little true. I tried, though. I really tried."

   "Then. The guy that was dumb enough to take that contract. On Francois. Bet he had no idea. That after you do a job that big? Well. Operational insurance. You cover your tracks. And if it ever does come back? It leads straight to him, and he's gone. Case closed, if it even gets that far."

   "That? Yeah. That was... but that took care of itself. Guy was no prize, trust me. And, a rival came in and wiped his ass out. The whole area? Even the police... wanted him replaced."

   "That was no accident, Mike. Went there, and did it my damn self. For free. You want to kill innocent civilians? Wife, employees. My friends. Almost got me and Merry and Light killed, too. Yeah. We stepped on that turd. Nice and hard. The police? Came along and bought us a drink for being there. No joke, that's not just a phrase."

   "Well? Someone, somewhere... popped the cork on a case of champagne over that one, trust me. Talk about an early Christmas present. Before he could even spill the beans. Did you know, that asshole had the nerve? To call and demand to be paid. Again. Thought he could blackmail the people that would take a contract like that out. Guy was an idiot."

   Panic chuckled.

   "And? Once again. Whether it was by design, or this time just a happy accident? There I go. Doing your dirty work, for you. Amazing."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Thanks?"

   "Fine. You got a free one. On me. We are buddies, after all. But I meant what I said. I offered to do that one. That? Was personal. I refused to take a red cent, and I wanted the job done right, the first time."

   Mike blinked at him.

   "You Red-watered his ass."

   "I sure did. And, every man that stood with him. You come and kill my friends? For money? I will come and kill you back. For free. Pretty sure you got the memo, on that one."

   Mike whispered.

   "Yeah."

   "So, Mike. My turn. Quid, pro, quo. My turn? To fill in blanks for you. And? You really have no idea."

   "What."

   Panic shook his head.

   "Mike? Before we start. Little story. One of the things, in my childhood? Made me into what I became. Interested?"

   "Sure."

   "I was young. Weird kid. The one everyone had fun picking on. You know how the teacher leaves the room, and some kid gets to play monitor? Write names on the board, of any kid that talks. You talk again? Check marks next to name. So when the teacher gets back, she can hand out brownie points, or extra homework assignments."

   "Sure. I think we all played that game, as kids."

   "Well. There was another kid. Fat Frankie. Not a bad kid. He got picked on, almost as bad as me. Not quite, but. Wasn't any fun for him."

   "It happens."

   "It sure does. The game. Kids would flick his ear, and he says ow. His name gets written down on the board. Hey, he talked. Other kids are joining in. Shooting gum bands, at his eyes and face. Check marks, every time he complains. And? No names, let alone check marks. For what turns into the whole room, doing this fun game. Imagine it, Mike. Kids, just having fun. But? All turning on one kid. Torturing him. That, was always me. Today? Someone else. My guts were in a knot."

   "Why. You weren't in it."

   "No. But, I knew that was my usual place. Just him, this one time. Half of me, was happy. Hey, better someone else? Than me. But... that bugs me almost as much. Here I am? Sitting here, happy someone else is getting done to them, what happens to me every day. Guilt. The kind that ties your guts in a knot."

   Mike shrugged.

   "Nothing you can do. You join in?"

   "Nope. I never could do that. Pick on anyone weaker than me. Ever. I know what its like, I can't do it to someone else. Maybe other kids can. Not realizing. But me? I knew it was wrong. So? I just sit there. Can't do anything about it, like you said. But I won't join in, either."

   Mike studied him.

   "Yeah. I could see that."

   "So? Teacher comes back. Sees his name, and all those check marks. She's mad. He tells her, exactly what went on."

   "She get pissed at the other kids?"

   "No, Mike. All the other kids? With no plan, with no planning. They just... naturally all came up with a story, organically. Everyone started making up stories, one after another. Basically? Everything anyone did to him? You just stood up and claimed he was doing it. To you. Teacher? Was now not mad. She was furious. He's yelling at her, crying now. Big, real, tears."

   Mike's face showed it. Guilt. He's got the morality, just doesn't have the power and the courage to try.

   "Christ."

   "Yeah. She's yelling at him and smacking him. All these big lies. Like you expect me to believe? The whole room, just... all formed this big giant plot? To get you. Right. Or? You were just an asshole. And, god I can still see it. He's... crying. Bad. Big, real, tears. Snot running down his face. Teacher's smacking him, yanks him by the ear. This is, like... fourth grade? Some shit. Marches him down the principal's office. If your parents sign the paper? You can get paddled. His parents? Old school."

   "Aw, man."

   "Yeah, Mike. You know what the worst part was?"

   "What."

   "Me. I wouldn't do it to him, when the teacher was out of the room. But, the teacher looks at me. She's hearing the whole room claim their shit, and him saying no. I had the reputation, even as a kid. I won't lie. Now? I'm on the fucking spot."

   "Tight spot."

   "Yeah. On the one hand. I go along with the crowd? Maybe, I get one day I'm not beat up and picked on. Maybe. Nice little prize for a weird kid in my situation. But? The bullies, are all staring at me. I know what happens, if I tell on them. Teacher might believe, me. I'll get what I always get, and get it worse."

   "Tighter spot. What did you decide."

   "I was scared, Mike. Plain and simple. I made up my own story, to go along with all of theirs. And I had all the church and all the bible classes. I knew what I had just done. Sure as hell, I knew. I was Judas. I sold out a good kid, for basically nothing."

   "Well. You get any, taste of the kids being nicer to you? You did go with the in crowd, for probably once."

   "Nope. Bullies? They picked on me and laughed. What. You thought we were going to like you? Idiot. So? I got it worse, anyways. And after the kid got his butt smacked a couple times at the principal's office? His dad came and got him, and took him away. He was going to get it worse, when he got home."

   Panic was quiet.

   "I never forgot that. What the hell was wrong with me. I turned on, one of the other weird kids. It... just felt so good? To finally have a chance, to maybe get to be one of the cool kids for once, you know? That would have been enough guilt, but... I didn't even get that. With him home? They went right back to the only target left... me. And? They're making fun of me, for thinking I could be one of the cool kids. Couple kids holding me, while the other one laughs. Poking me with a pencil. You know what? You'll do what we say. Or you'll get it worse."

   "Kids can be assholes. We all know it."

   "Yeah. But... now? I got all that heavy guilt. Also? I got nothing out of it. In fact, with him home? I'm just getting it worse now, too. And now? I'm being threatened. You? Are going to do what we say. You're still going to get beat up and picked on, make no mistake about that? But? You'll get it worse, if you don't say what we tell you. Because the teacher believes you."

   "What did you do?"

   "Nothing. Got abused more than usual, and now had all that guilt to go along with it. Within a year? I started to snap. I started doing things. I pushed my bully? Down the steps. He got his arm broke. I started stabbing them? With pencils. Blowing pepper in their eyes, and kicking them in the shin."

   "You get anywhere?"

   "Nope. I'm still the weird kid. Still getting abuse. But? Why add guilt on top of it. The kids were smart, but not smart enough. If I'm getting abused every day, and I can't stop it by joining in, helping them pick on another kid? I have no options. And any option? Is just a worse option. I'm going to get black eyes, and bloody noses weekly anyways. Might as well get it? For something. Happening anyways. So? Terrorism, on my part."

   "They created a monster."

   "I guess. I just ramp it up, all through until I graduated high school. It got bad. I was hurting kids, and I was getting hurt anyways. No loss. Someone was going to go to the emergency room a few times here and there. I didn't even know how to really fight. But, I put a job on a few kids that weren't any better than I was at it. It got ugly."

   "You turned out okay."

   "I shouldn't have. Too smart, abused too much. I was a recipe, for... turning into something very, very bad. I was tall, and going to fill out. The craving I had, for learning how to fight? Properly. I was going to find that."

   "You ran away to the service when you graduated."

   "Sure did. I might have been a computer programmer? But... every second of free time. Reading my books, or... lifting weights. Hitting heavy bags. Running. A lot. Swimming long distance. I put myself around all the guys, that..."

   "You wormed your way into the crowd. The tough guys."

   "Yeah."

   Mike said it.

   "You got lemons thrown at you, and you squeezed a gallon jug of lemonade out of it."

   "I did."

   Mike raised his finger.

   "What, uh... happened."

   "Hmm."

   "To... Fat Frankie."

   Panic grinned.

   "Oh. He was a discipline problem, don't you know. Always in trouble? Dad kicking his ass, to solve the problem, and it wasn't working. He disappeared by the next year. Juvenile hall. Jail school, locked in with the delinquents."

   "Ouch."

   "Yeah, Mike. Ouch. Kid wasn't a discipline problem. It was just fun to lie and torture him. The principal? Paddled him, helping pick on him without knowing it. His dad? Making it worse, going on what he was told. And. Can you imagine what being locked in juvenile hall, would have been like for him? The regular kids saw him as a target. Just imagine, what the actual criminal kids must have done to him."

   "Jail. Alcoholism. Drugs."

   "No, Mike. Before I graduated? We found out. He'd committed suicide, after a few years in juvenile hall. He couldn't get out of juvenile hall? Because..."

   Mike finished it for him.

   "He was a discipline problem. Christ."

   "Guilt, Mike. If I'd of had a fucking spine and some courage? Or, just smart enough to figure it out a few months quicker. All I had to do? Was get picked on like happened every day anyways. All I had to do, was not lie. Tell the truth, like I always did. But? I was scared. And look what came out of that. I might have started a chain of events, that led to his death. That, day. Mike? I looked in the mirror, every time I thought of him. I'm responsible. I got that on my conscience."

   Mike was quiet.

   "Wow."

   "What."

   "Shit like that. It really drives you."

   "Yeah, Mike. It really does. And you know what? After the service. I wanted to go, and try to take the next step. Ended up? In Redwater. And we both know the rest of that story. When I finally came home? I went back. I moved a couple towns up the river, and... I was a very quiet, very polite young man. I liked to be by myself. And when I did go out? I just wanted to shoot some pool, throw some darts. Just, leave me alone."

   "I could see that."

   "Well? I'd see some of those same kids. Grown up assholes now, don't you know. And I'm always watching. Every once in a while? I'd find one of them. Wait. Watch. And if they were up to their old tricks? I waited more. Got them alone. Bathroom, dark alley, parking lot. Lots of places. And I was trained. How to do it right. How to get away with it. And yeah. I put some of them? Into critical care. There's a few guys walking around? With arms will never work right, a limp that will never go away."

   "Holy shit."

   "Yeah. It is holy, Mike. Its the wrath of god. They? Don't even know who got them. But? They're laying there. Why, why. When I was done? I'd lean down. I can smell the piss, and sometimes the shit. They can't barely breathe, can't even see. That's when I'd tell them."

   "I'm afraid to ask, but."

   He dropped his face, and grinned ear to ear.

   "Remember Fat Frankie, what you used to do to him? Frankie says hello."

   Mike was a little nervous, all over again.

   "Now. Do you want to know, what the moral of the story was?"

   "Yeah."

   "What happened to Fat Frankie? Mike. That, is exactly what you guys did. To Francois. Everybody wanted something. All, the big kids. All, the cool kids. And you know what? Everyone, got just what they wanted. Except for the poor villagers, of course. They took it in the ass. But, just like picking on Fat Frankie wasn't enough? They had to make him out to be the bad guy, and he wasn't. He was actually? The good guy. Or, the poor victim. And what did you all do, when the music stopped. The only good guy in the whole story? Francois. You guys turned him? Into... The Devil. Blamed him? For everything everyone else did."

   Mike looked down. He has a conscience, and he feels guilt. Panic stood up.

   "Mike? Look. I actually understand. Kids, will be kids. Its normal. Someone is going to play bully, someone is going to play kid getting picked on. But... normal, doesn't mean good. It was bad enough, what you all did to him. To Francois. But? No one was happy. No. You had to turn him into your fall guy. Let him? Pay for all your sins. And that? Its worse. But."

   He paused. He leaned forwards.

   "Did you assholes, really have to go to the lengths you did? Killing his family priest. And why. For mentoring him, that he would feel better. If he did the right thing."

   Mike just blinked at him.

   "You didn't know that?"

   "No."

   "Oh. France, maybe Germany. Maybe, the rich investors who were pissed, that someone was starting to fight back. They killed a damn priest, Mike. Counseling a man tortured by guilt. Over things? He knows he started, but spun out of control."

   Mike was silent.

   "Yeah. Guess they figured, it would send him a message. Well, he got that message. Loud and clear. But, unlike me? I had my moment, and I joined in. Just, once. He had more courage and backbone than I did that day. He set things up? So even if they killed him. It went ahead anyways. Especially, if they killed him. It just pisses the rest of his group off? And they hunker down, take precautions... and try twice as hard now. It can't be stopped, Mike."

   He paused.

   "Mike? It wasn't enough to fuck Fat Frankie up. Oh no. You put a contract out on him! What the hell? Is wrong with you people!"

   Mike just blinked at him.

   "Panic? There's... its called, regional stability. Or, regional instability. France, and Germany? Are the two most important and influential countries, in Europe. If they fail? Europe, while it doesn't fail... it gets bad."

   "Mike? France. Germany. They're not led by the people, they elect to lead them. Not really. The billionaires? And the European Union. They basically, influence and run France and Germany. The bad kids, Mike. And they're not trying to help the people. They're out for themselves."

   "Maybe so. But, honest to god, Panic. Nothing ever was perfect. Eve? Ate the apple. Cain killed Abel. It got worse, from there. You can't change it. And, there's whole countries at stake."

   Panic sat down, and went quiet again. He shook his head.

   "Best part coming up, Mike. The best part."

   "What."

   "I got played. Down at the equator. I got used, just like the bad kids used me to help seal Fat Frankie's fate. I got played? Hard. And you? You got played, too. But, its not over. Glad you're sitting down for this one."

   "Christ."

   "Just like I got suckered into playing along, with the cool kids fun game? That, is what happened to America. Did you guys think, that France and Germany, and the other billionaires pulling their strings, were going to play fair with you guys? Oh, no way."

   Mike waited for it.

   "Years later. Along comes me. Fat Frankie? Says hello. France, who turned on him, for helping his country out when they begged him to. Francois turned his back on France. He rounded them up, and they left. They got tired of being blamed, for what everyone else did. Guy's brilliant, Mike. Well? He was brilliant. Past tense there, huh. He beat them at their own game. Fucking genius. You? Of all people. Should appreciate this one."

   Mike sat and waited.

   "The futures game. You bet the commodity goes up? Or, goes down. Bet right, you make more than owning stock or physical commodity. Bet wrong? Oh, can you lose more than your ass. You can get cleaned out, covering all that paper you bet. You can actually lose? Many times more, than your bet was."

   He paused.

   "Ready? Everyone, was going to do to him again, what they did the first time. Him and the investment group? Go to Africa. To get the new coal find. All, of Liberia's neighbors? Have China, getting them to attack Liberia. Taking turns. You know, picking on Fat Frankie. Its what assholes do."

   Panic grinned.

   "Because why? Easy one! The fighting, makes the cost of the coal go up. So, everybody... and more than ever, this time around. They all made huge bets on coal futures. And, the longer you run the bet? The more you can make. All the bad financial players? Made even longer and bigger bets, this time. They know how this game is played."

   Panic skipped around a little. Danced around, like a little kid. Its his way of showing happy. Its a mask, for his missing body language.

   "But? All bets are down. Can't take it back. Roulette. Ball's spinning... and its too late. They won't be able to control the price of the coal, this time. Not on paper. Its going to be physically transferred. And taken wherever Francois, well... now his investors, with him dead... say it goes."

   "I'm not a financial guru, but, it does sound slick."

   "Very slick. Ready to guess, where it was going to?"

   "France. Germany. Well, China if they got the price up."

   "No, Mike. It was all planned to go? To America! All those big investors? The true economy of France, by the way. Were all coming to America, and setting up shop. They have trillions, when you add it all up. And? It was all getting poured into the American economy. They own the coal outright, and they control the price. They were going to set the price low? And fire up the old American steel industries! There's high grade iron ore, near the coal in Africa? It was coming, too!"

   Mike was puzzled.

   "Yeah, Mike. That's right. Your cool kids. Your buddies. France, Germany? They, what... double crossed you. Triple crossed you? Something. They got you, by lying on Fat Frankie? To see a contract through, to kill him!"

   Panic leaned into his face.

   "I'm trying to decide. Which one you were. The principal, paddling Frankie. Because the kids laughed and lied on him. Or, maybe the dad. Giving it to him good, trying to fix the problem. The problem? That doesn't exist! Mike? You actually brokered the contract, or just aided and abetted. The contract, to kill the only good guy, trying to do the right thing? In this whole screwed up game."

   "You know this."

   "Its me. I tell the truth? When its not the popular thing to say. I tell the truth? When it hurts. But? America, help us. And, I'm betting you got a few deals, to pay for the help. I'm sure. But... look how you get repaid. They got you to help kill the guy, that was the only guy, on America's side."

   "If that's true? I wish I could take it back."

   "Yeah. Be nice, huh? Trillions of investment. Coming to your country. Guaranteeing you, unlimited coal and iron ore. And China? Can't buy it, at any price. Steel mills again. Rail yards? All working again. And? All the other businesses. Welding shops. Car plants. All those jobs? Restaurants, stores. All those retirements, to invest. Stock market? Hopping like the roaring twenties, all over again."

   Mike put his face in his hands.

   "And all those jobs. What do blue collar guys do, when they get a good job. They buy a house. They buy a car. They get their kid piano lessons. They pay? Someone to cut the grass. There's a small business, that springs up. There's no end to it, Mike. All? Gone."

   Mike groaned.

   "You guys got played, harder than any fiddle ever got stroked. And you know who got you? I'll tell you. The liberals, running Europe. We had a liberal administration for four years? Couldn't wait. All the immigration, all the idiot shit they push. And, they asked. Help us get this bad guy. The Devil. And you can get to be one of the liberal cool kids, just like us."

   He paused.

   "You did the dirtiest work for them. Just like me? Fucking Fat Frankie over. They got you? To kill the biggest golden goose ever, who was on his way to America. To shit golden eggs, like the old days. Wouldn't have lasted forever. Never does. But? Twenty years, of the roaring twenties again. The good times."

   Mike was beyond deflated. He knows the truth when he hears it.

   "All gone, Mike. All gone."

   Holy shit. I get it now. I can see it. Panic? Is preaching. Literally. I know this rhetorical trick, all psychologists know it. First? You lay out the problem. You shovel the guilt. This is a fire and brimstone speech. Same technique? Great speakers use. Like, Hitler did it really well. Other politicians. The ones? Known for their famous speech giving ability. He's pulling it off, too. He's got Mike right where he wants him. What did I do? What did we all do. We're so fucked now. The road to hell? We paved it with our own good intentions.

   Where is it. Its time. This? Is where your spring that ray of hope onto them. They all look up, and they'll listen to anything you tell them now. They'll follow you? Blind. Its the cult of personality. Its the demagogue's? Stock in trade. He's doing what Francois did, use their own evil tricks? Against them. This was Hitler's secret power? But he's using it to a good end.

   I can't believe he knows this trick. Panic really is, an evil twisted genius. And just like Mike said years ago, seeing how he can work. Thank god, he uses his power for good. But, where is it. Come on. Let's see it.

   Soft voice now. All the ramping up hell and bombast? Dissipated, in an instant. This, is where they will strain to hear you.

   "Mike. You tell me. Here and now. If you could take it all back. If I was not just called The Magician, like you are. What if I really was... master of time, space and dimension. What if I could take us back in time? And you could do it different. Would you like that? Hmm?"

   "Like you could never believe."

   "I can imagine. But, why. What would you do different. If you had known."

   "Oh, Christ. Not like I don't know people. I could have gotten word to the intelligence community. How bad they were getting played. Those guys? Can get meetings. With people that really matter. Spread the word. If this is true? America could have had a god damn band playing, when Francois stepped off the plane. President, waiting to kiss him on both cheeks. All the big investment companies? Ready to kiss those ass cheeks, of all those big billionaires."

   "Yeah. Would have been nice, huh. And you? Magic Michael. The Magician himself. Hey, guys? I know a big illusion when I see one. Look what I found. You guys gotta see this. And its you? They'd have listened. Huh."

   Mike groaned and sighed.

   "Yeah. Probably? Sure."

   "Mike? Welcome to my world. Knowing, I could have helped? And instead... I got sucked along with the crowd and fucked along with Fat Frankie. But, its a little worse for you. Isn't it. You killed Fat Frankie. Or helped, same thing. And even worse yet for you, is that you're now directly responsible. For breaking the record player, that was going to play roaring twenties music. God. I can't imagine, how that much guilt must feel like. Worse than mine, I bet. Hmm?"

   "Yeah, Panic. You enjoying this?"

   "No. Not at all. Not this part, anyways."

   Panic looked at me. Its my job to read things. I nodded.

   "Well, Uncle Mikey. Things, are looking up for you."

   "How's that."

   "Well. Little things. One, for instance. You, are telling the truth. And your guilt? Its real. That tells me, you really weren't in on this shit, because it gained you anything. It tells me, you got fooled along with everyone else. By the big illusion."

   "And what was that."

   "You know the biggest trick, The Devil ever pulled?"

   "Yeah. Convincing us he doesn't even exist."

   "He had another trick. What if there really wasn't a devil. We'd have to promptly invent one."

   Mike agreed.

   "Yeah. To explain human nature."

   "Also, Uncle Mikey?"

   "Yeah."

   "Remember that scary movie I showed you? You know the one."

   Mike gulped. Hard. There was no possibility of not remembering being shown it. The angel of death himself, passing over him and his wife. In his own house.

   "Yes."

   "I'm going to show you another one. Don't worry. No more scaring you. Just, facts of life. Now, I want you? To bear with me. I need you? To just... trust me. Because at the end? Things are going to get better. Okay?"

   "What the hell."

   Panic showed him the tablet again. There was a new scary movie. He had to badger Mike into watching. By promising there was a point, and a good one. He had to trust him, though.

   Mike's face went white as a ghost. I knew what it was already. More precisely, where it was. Mike damn sure knew it. It was his adult child's house. It was the same movie over again, just part two was a different house. Different loved ones. He got to see the close up, from what was obviously the head mounted night vision tiny camera.

   His own adult child, sleeping. With the spouse. The look into the mirror, so the dark face you couldn't make out was somehow even scarier. Then? Their kids, first one then the other. Asleep. All innocence. Mike's grandchildren. He just looked at Panic. All the fight was gone out of him. Complete deflation.

   "Mike? I'm not threatening you. Or them. Its the last thing, I'd ever want to see done. Now Mike. I don't have kids. I wish I did sometimes. But? What you feel right now. That's what I felt? Going out to look for my friends. Who were on that damn boat. I got lucky. I found them. And that? Was a great feeling. Not as good as if nothing had happened in the first place. But? Pretty damn good."

   "Oh. This isn't threatening me. Fuck you, Panic."

   "Mike. Compare the two videos. Look at the time and date codes."

   He did. They were identical.

   "Uh huh. Imagine, that level of precision and coordination. Simultaneous? Entrance and execution. That? Is the mark of the true professional. Mike."

   Mike looked up at him, with suddenly very old and tired looking eyes. He whispered.

   "You're a monster."

   "Hey. I can only be in one place, at one time. And while it may be true, I might just be a monster. I'll tell you something. I'm a good monster. And I'll tell you something else. Something? You might not realize. You? Created this monster. And a lot more than one, down at the equator. You ever watch the old monster movies? The monster has a habit, of killing his own creator."

   "Please. I did it. Not... them."

   "I know. But now? You can feel a little taste, of what those villagers felt. I'm not limited, to just one or two. I could potentially field? A number of them. Just, one big night? And the angels of death could creep around. Taking god's enemies. Or? People that need taught a lesson. Because what you're feeling right now? Told you. That's what I felt. Looking for my friends. You almost? Killed me. Merry. Little Lightning. You did kill, those two engine men, manning the boat. And lets not forget Francois and his wife. Regardless what you think or don't think about him? His wife is innocent. Spoiled? But innocent. Every bit as innocent? As your own grandchildren."

   He paused.

   "And if you had killed my brothers? We wouldn't even be talking right now."

   "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I... don't know what else to say."

   "The wife. The two employees. But? I understand. And I believe you didn't know. So... I forgive you. You honestly didn't know any better. But? You damn sure do now. Don't you."

   He nodded.

   "These things can still happen. After my untimely death, too. I'd keep any promises I made. I'm so tired. Mike. Its been... twenty years? I'm the kind of tired, that sleep can't fix. I'm running out of patience. Now. More good news. I know you have empathy. Guilt. That's good. It means? You feel bad, for innocent lives taken."

   Mike nodded.

   "And I believe you. But, in the future. If someone tried to bend you over backwards. You tell them what you have to tell them. And you pick up a burner phone? And you call your friend. Me. Its obvious what I can do. If in the future, someone tried to threaten you, the way I just did? I can have it handled. And I don't care who it is. I can get to them. All right? So, you don't have to be a dangerous man yourself. To take courage, and not be afraid. You just do what's right? You have all the backing you need."

   A pause. What I now think of? As, the Francois pause.

   "Now. We come to the end. The good part."

   "How can this be good. Its already all fucked up."

   "Well? Unlike you. Called the magician. I really do magic tricks. You've seen me do them. Right?"

   Mike nodded.

   "Well. Let's try one. I've been working, on a brand new one. Not so much a trick? One of those... big illusion acts. This one? In the industry. They call it... the condemned man illusion. Its pretty effective. Watch."

   Panic put the top hat on. Said some mumbo jumbo words, being funny. Waved his hands a bit, did his best Svengali face. He waved a pen a couple times, for his magician's cane.

   "Well? What's the trick."

   Panic smiled.

   "Mike? I tell you guys all the time. The best tricks? Are done, before you even know you're going to see a magic trick. Trick's over. You didn't see it?"

   "No."

   "I turned back time. You get a do over. A second chance. To do what you now know? Was right."

   "How."

   "Not important. But, if you had it to do over. Would you have done things different?"

   "Like I said last time you asked. You have no idea."

   "All right. Let's see. Come on."

   "Where we going."

   "Me and Merry? Want a bite to eat. You? Going with us. I know you. A little sugar? Makes you calm down. If you can't eat? Let us get you a big milkshake at the diner. The big one. Our treat. Come on."

   We went to the diner.

   Panic asked Mike. Like a little kid, he'd gotten a giant milkshake into him. Marnie? Will give us the big metal container the milkshake got made out of. The bonus, for repeat customers that tip well. It settled his stomach acid down, and now Panic could get some french fries with gravy into him. Comfort food.

   Like a little kid, now feeling calmed down again.

   "Mike? Stupid question."

   "Yeah."

   "You even know Francois? I mean, would you even know it. If you passed him on the street. Or, if he was sitting here. Right at the next table over."

   "Honestly? No. Not if he was dressed like everyone else here. Going fishing and hiking, this time of the year."

   "You don't even know what the guy looks like? I know you never met him."

   "No, Panic. I learned a long time ago. You don't stare at those 8x10 glossies on top of those files. Doesn't help. Someone else? Needs to be able to recognize him. Not me. I'm not in the field. I? Just hand that file over. I try to forget it. Its the only way I can sleep. Its just... another name, another number."

   "Would you really like it? If I turned back time. If you had it to do over. Now that you know, what was going on. The real story."

   "I'd give anything."

   "What would you say to him. If you met him."

   "You really get something out of this. Making sure how guilty I feel."

   "Mike? Guilt. For a bad man? Its something you learn to shut off. Never feel. But to a good man? It teaches you. It drives you. So next time? You do the right thing. I know Fat Frankie. It drives me. Like a fire in my blood. I'll never pull that shit again. So. How about you."

   "Yeah. Same here. I wanna just... crawl in a hole and die."

   Panic winked at me.

   "I'm gonna take a piss. Merry? Try to get something else into this poor guy. I feel bad, how rough I was on him."

   Panic went and took a piss, and when he came back? He stopped at the next table.

   "Hey. Hi, guys. Didn't even see you come in. Come on, sit with us. At our table. Got a good friend, you should meet."

   "Mike? Friends of mine. They're staying here. They're renting a little old house, on the edge of town. Guys? This, is Mike. Mike? This, is Francis Green. This, is one of his top assistants. I call him... V."

   "You guys on vacation, huh?"

   Francois and Vladimir both nodded. Panic explained.

   "They're enjoying the peace and the quiet. Fishing. Walking around the woods. Nice guys. They did okay, day trading. They wanted a country setting, peace and quiet. Nice little break."

   Mike nodded.

   "Well? Its the place to do it. Out of the way? Not much excitement here."

   Francois cocked his head, smiling.

   "Yes. I? Like, these. I find, the water? In the night. To relax."

   Panic cut in gently.

   "Elise, has a new girlfriend. His, lady friend. Its how we met."

   Mike nodded.

   "So. You're French."

   "Mm. Oui. But? Not, any, more."

   "Why."

   "My country? Is lead, by... imbeciles."

   Mike chuckled.

   "Join the club. We're not so bright here, some days."

   Mike looked at Vlad.

   "And you? French too, I suppose."

   "No. My name? Is Vladimir. Vladimir, Radiscononovich."

   "And, where you from."

   "Brooklyn."

   "Oh. How's Brooklyn."

   "Brooklyn? Is shit-hole. And so? I leave."

   "So. Mike."

   "Yeah, Panic."

   "Are you sure, my magic trick... didn't work."

   Mike smiled wistfully.

   "Panic? Please. Would you please, just quit. My stomach? The milkshake, got it settled down. I know I don't deserve it? But please. Show some mercy, would you."

   "Mike. I brought you gifts. From my vacation. I never said, I didn't have more."

   "Oh. I can't wait. What now."

   "You said. You wanted a do over. I must really be, the master of time, space and dimension. So? Here's your present. From me and Merry? To you."

   He looked at me. I winked.

   "Merry Christmas, Mike."

   "What."

   I put my good hand not in the sling, on Panic's shoulder.

   "Panic? Would you like to make the formal introductions. This is all your doing."

   "It was your idea. You helped."

   "You're the magician, honey. Take your bow. Go on."

   "Mike. I'd like to introduce you. To? Francois Verte. The American version of his name? Would be... Francis Green."

   "Panic? Stop it. Its... not funny anymore."

   "You see me laughing? Here he is. You get a second chance. Do the right thing, this time."

   "But... how... you can't..."

   Panic chuckled.

   "Oh, Mike. Modern day, doubting Thomas. Sorry, but... your financial messiah? He has no holes in his hands, for you to put your finger into, to believe. So? I recommend. Get on your little phone, and... online encyclopedia."

   Mike did. Then? He held his phone up and compared. The look crossing his face? Was beyond anything. Panic's present? Was truly... beyond priceless.

   "Panic? I don't know how you did this, but..."

   "Mike? An old friend. Once told me a story. About his uncle. The uncle? Went out of his way, to help him. And all the uncle asked from him in return?"

   Mike answered for him. It was his story, from back when they first met.

   "I'll do the right thing."

   "Honey? We're going fishing. You wanna go fishing? Or, stay and catch up with Uncle Mike."

   "Have fun, honey."

   Panic turned back, just as he was about to be out of earshot.

   "Mike?"

   "Yeah."

   "Last gift. Check your right suit pocket."

   I watched Mike pull it out. It was a single playing card. He flipped it over.

   Four of clubs.