Part 60: Roughly Twenty-Seven Hours Later.
Nep jabs one of his fingers in the air. “First and foremost, if we bailed on this restaurant right here and now Mephis would know something was amiss. If Tyr didn’t pick us up himself, someone else undoubtably would. We’d be as good as dead. I’m waiting for a moment when we will be able to shoot our way out.”
“I love the way you think.”
He nods proudly. “Second: What if he’s telling the truth?” He grins wickedly. “Shit, dude if we get access to that artifact, we’ll be bigger than those Holy Blood/Holy Grail hippies.” He shuffles about in his seat as a young couple pass behind him in white T-shirts It’s a little cold for T-shirts.
Our waitress comes over with three cups of coffee on a scuffed brown tray balanced precariously on her hand. She looks around the table curiously, trying to find where the third person was hiding.
“Did they gave me the wrong number of people again?” she asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “I’m telling you, that new hostess won’t take to her programming. She’s constantly screwing up orders. I think we’re going to have to have her killed. Like, anyway, are you guys ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?” She watches our body language to see if we want mashed potatoes or french fries.
“We’re waiting for our friend to get back first,” Nepotism says.
“Okay!” she pops and saunters off.
“Don’t you have to go fuck the hostess?” Nepotism growls.
I throw up my hands in defense. “Are you kidding? I’d probably be the fourth or fifth one today. Go ahead, take my turn, I don’t mind.”
“Only someone as sick as you would keep going back to Eva Lorraine.” Nepotism shakes his head. “You’re asking for trouble.”
With a shake of my head, I say, “She shall hence be known as ‘Insatiable Fuck Demon.’”
“Even better than the Marine chick?” he asks. “And the ninja?” He throws back the rest of his coffee and eyes Mephis’s cup hungrily. “If I remember correctly, they were all sent to kill you.”
Mephis enters and sits across from me. “Here’s the deal.” He grabs the hollow aluminum railing of the chair next to Nepotism. “The party has already started, with a lot of SpectraCom top brass present. There is a big unveiling at midnight.”
“How are we supposed to get in?” Nepotism asks.
“We all have tuxedos waiting at the safe-house, which you will all be billed for later. Don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” Mephis sits. “I wasn’t able to get a program for making invitations, so we’re going to have to break in.”
“We’re breaking in?” I ask. “Your plan was to score a requested interview through felony?”
“Mr. Solomon is not interested in doing the interview this evening.” Mephis asks and doesn’t wait for answers. “At 8pm, there will be a distraction that will clear the terrace. We slip in like we’ve been there the whole time.”
“Are they ready for us at the safe-house?” I ask.
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