Part 8
"He's a hold-over from a by-gone era, mate, you know that," Eleven's visitor said as Claudia stood outside the door to his office.
"So am I, that don't exactly give you a good arguing point," Eleven replied.
"Yes, I am completely aware of that," the stranger said, he had a prominent cockney accent. "But the difference between you and him, is that you adapt to the times. You don't go running around dressed up like a cowboy shooting your revolvers up in the air now do you? He hasn't adapted and that's what makes him a threat. In his eyes, you should be thrown in the pen, so should I. That ain't exactly right, now is it?"
Eleven didn't reply. He sat silently contemplating the man's words, his hands folded together.
"He's a danger to both of us; I come here under a truce to make this deal with you," he continued. "I'd just as soon see you and all your little goons locked up but the enemy of my enemy is . . someone I put up with for a bit. It stands to reason you'd kill me as I stand for the things I've done. I suppose I'd have it coming in a way. But that wouldn't solve the dilemma, now would it?"
Eleven sighed, "You better not be trying any of your little mind tricks on me, Iago."
"You wouldn't know if I were," the visitor replied.
"And you know, I know, about YOUR goons circled around this place ready to bust in and mow down everything in their sight if I decide to put a bullet in your head right now," Eleven said coldly.
Claudia folded her arms, listening to the conversation.
"Of course," the man with the accent replied. "That is the truce. If I die, you die, and the other way around. You know me better than to walk into the bloody lion's den without any sort of protection."
After a short pause, Eleven spoke, "So, I risk my life, and the lives of my employees to do this and you risk . . yourself. That ain't exactly a square deal."
"We risk the same. The only difference is that my employees aren't special like yours. How's that new one doing? If you don't mind me asking. That Holocaust girl."
"She does a mighty fine job," Eleven said. "Still green though. Once she learns the ropes she'll be as good as any of the others."
"Good to know. I look forward to dealing with her in the future. From what I've heard she's got quite a bit of pluck," the man said.
Claudia grinned to herself, trying not to burst into a fit of excited giggles.
Eleven chuckled, "Sure as hell does. Girl's like a goddamn tornado when she wants to be."
"Is Seven still working for you? I haven't seen her lovely face in quite some time," the visitor asked.
Claudia pulled a back of cigarettes from her pocket.
"Yep, Seven's still around," Eleven answered
"That's a shame. I thought she was going to leave with me, considering how you give her such shit."
"It's tough love," Eleven said. "Besides, she's not a backstabbing son of a bitch like you are."
The man chuckled, "You were always such the mother hen. How dare your babies leave the nest. I sought out other ventures, I see no wrong in that. It's you who want to keep everyone under thumb and impose your will upon them. People aren't naturally good, Fred. They're forced into it through fear or the pressures of society."
"There you go again with that horse shit. I'll think about your deal, now get the hell out of here. The little lady's been waiting outside for long enough," Eleven said.
A few moments passed and Eleven's door open and out stepped a tall, dark-skinned man in a khaki colored suit, his long hair pulled back and held in place with a bandanna. He looked down at Claudia and smiled.
"Why, hello there, Holocaust. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, extending his hand.
"Um . . hello . . English black guy," Claudia said, shaking his hand that dwarfed hers.
He chuckled, "Iago."
"Iago," she repeated. "I guess I shouldn't trust you then?"
"Not on your life, love," he said with a wink.
She withdrew her hand from his and returned it to her pocket, fumbling for the pack of cigarettes.
He held his place, towering over her as he stared into her eyes. Claudia looked away, staring down at her feet as she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. She slipped it between her lips and turned away, stepping into Eleven's office and closing the door behind her.
"Who is he?" She asked, looking to Eleven.
"Nobody you want to know," Eleven replied.
She took a puff from her cigarette and collapsed in the leather chair in front of his desk, "I could hear you two talking outside. I'm curious."
Eleven sighed and sank into his chair, "He was One."
She raised her eyebrow, "Was?"
"Was," he said with a single nod.
"So you fired him?" She asked.
He shook his head, "No, no. He quit. He up and decided one day he was too good for the rest of us and started freelancing, working for whoever paid him the best. Greedy son of a bitch. Now he runs his own show, just like I do."
"So you're pissed at him because he left?" Claudia asked, blowing out a stream of smoke.
"No, he's not the only one that left. This work ain't for everybody, you know. He's given privileged information to our enemies. Bastard just about got me killed a few times. If we're the heroes, he's the villain. One of them at least," he said.
"What's his shtick?" She asked curiously.
Eleven took a sip from the glass sitting on his desk, "Mind control."
"So why didn't he do it to you and get you killed?" Claudia asked. "I mean if I had someone willing to pay me a ton of money to kill you and could do that I'd just walk you into traffic."
Eleven chuckled, "Doesn't work if you don't let it. What he does takes time, he has to concentrate. It's in his eyes. Besides, it's harder for him to do if you've got a good, strong mind."
"What like the jedi mind trick?" She asked.
Eleven nodded, "Something like that."
"What was the deal?" Claudia asked as her cigarette snuffed out.
"Good ears you got," he said. "He called for a union, temporarily."
Claudia shrugged, "Sounds good, what's the problem?"
"He wants help taking care of a very important person," he said.
"The president?" Claudia guessed.
"No, no," Eleven replied shaking his head. "I'll tell you when I decide, so long as you can keep a secret."
"Fair enough," she shrugged. "I've got something for you."
Claudia slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out an envelope, passing it across the desk to Eleven. He lifted the flap and withdrew the two cards inside.
Suddenly, as he returned the cards to Claudia's deck there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he said loudly as he counted out her payment.
The door opened slightly and Twelve poked his head into the room.
"Oh, hi Claudia!" He said excitedly with a smile on his face.
"Hey Jorgen," she replied, glancing over her shoulder at him.
"How ams you doing?" He asked.
"I'm good, just getting paid," she said.
"What do you need, Twelve?" Eleven asked as he handed Claudia a small stack of cash.
"Does you have any work we has to do today?" Jorgen asked curiously. "We saw One coming outside. Is there going to be another wars?"
Eleven shook his head, "No, Twelve, he didn't come here to war."
"Aw," Twelve said with a disappointed look in his eyes. "Viveka says she wants to fight. It has been a long time since you had her work. Not living up to posenchul she says."
Eleven chuckled, "She might be getting the chance soon enough."
"Oh for really? That's great! I'll tell her you said that, okay," he replied, looking hopeful once again.
He slipped his head out of the room and shut the door.
"So . . is Jorgen . . retarded?" Claudia asked.
"Don't know. I always figured he was just a bit slow. Thirteen's the brains of the two. Good thing about him is he never complains and does what he's told for the most part. Took a while to figure out where his personal morality rested," Eleven said.
"Yeah, he doesn't seem like much of a killer," she said.
"Kid couldn't hurt a fly," Eleven smirked. "He heals, so he's good to keep around. You tend to get busted up eventually."
"So THAT'S what he does. I've been wondering all this time. Wait, so what's Viveka do?" Claudia asked curiously.
Eleven took a sip from his glass, "The opposite."