The Bad Job (2/?) [Leverage]
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Nathan knew more about Eliot Spencer than the rest of his team. Hardison might know a lot as well, but not all things were on file, not everything could be gotten from the internet. So Nathan knew a lot, but he hadn't known about Moreau, hadn't even thought that Eliot would've worked for that man, still couldn't believe that their Eliot was a man capable of working for Damien Moreau, be on a first-name basis and walk away after quitting. And, from what he'd gotten from Hardison, be so well-known and so well-feared by Moreau's men that it was rather certain he'd been talked about, praised and spoken of in high regard after he'd left.
That was a scary thought.
He knew it had happened. He knew it, intellectually, knew that he'd left Eliot in a warehouse filled with well-armed thugs, left him with one handgun and nothing else, left him to get the Italian out, to get Moreau. He knew that, and he knew that Eliot had walked out of that warehouse, pissed and scary but unhurt. He knew that.
Who survives something like that? Unscratched? You have to be something really special, something really scary to do that.
Nathan knew that, and still, it wasn't compatible with who he was standing in front of. Not even compatible with the guy he'd met five-and-a-half years ago on a heist for Victor Dubenich. Not with the man who cooked with so much compassion, rode horses and sang country-songs and smiled his way into every panty he wanted, and it wasn't even compatible with the man who killed Russian gangsters with hors d'œuvres and kicked ass on a regular basis.
Sophie could slip into skins like a chameleon, like Parker could slip into airducts or Hardison into an uncrackable firewall. Eliot, though... he actually was different people. Sophie tried on and shed personas, but Eliot... well, he actually was at least two people, if not more. And sometimes, those Eliot Spencer's met, and it wasn't always a happy reunion.
Ah, who was he kidding, it probably never was.
Sometimes, when Nathan let himself think about his team, he realized that from all of them, Eliot had the most baggage, buried too deep to ever find without Spencer's consent. Parker was close second, but while her baggage had been put on narrow, vulnerable shoulders and had shattered something inside her, Eliot's had been heaped on an adult, already able to fight and survive. He carried it. Mostly, he carried it well.
So yeah, Nate knew a lot about Eliot Spencer, not all but enough to know the gist of who he was talking to, who was standing in his kitchen with slightly softening eyes.
And it shouldn't have surprised him when Eliot nodded, hung his head, then looked back up with a new edge to his face.
“Yeah, I know. You won't have to. I will.”
It shouldn't, but it did.
**
“You're not seriously considering this, are you? Nathan!”
Sophie was livid. She paced, and Sophie never paced. Parker perched on the window-sill while Hardison stared at him, open-mouthed but very certainly already thinking and planning with his quick brain. He might be the first who would get it, though it pained Nathan to even think about what it would do to him. He knew Alec liked Eliot, though they bickered and fought and drove each other nuts, there was a solid friendship between them, and it wasn't solely coming from Hardison.
“Is Eliot gonna sell him a kid?”
“No, Parker, he certainly is not...”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The Hell?”
Sophie turned so fast, Nate worried she'd slip on her high-heels and break an ankle, but she just wheeled around and glared at him. “You can't let him do that!”
“Ah, so how should I stop him?”
“Tell him!”
He stared at her, raising his eyebrows. Parker giggled. “That's funny, Sophie,” she grinned either completely true with not getting it was meant seriously or … well, probably exactly that. “No, really Nate. Eliot's gonna sell this man a kid?”
“Well... in a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“What? How can you say that that's okay? Parker, it's … that's...” Hardison spluttered, but she just slipped over to him and petted his leg.
“It's Eliot,” she stated, like that was all there was to it. And maybe it was, or maybe it wasn't, but she clearly didn't worry about it anymore, and for that, ill-adviced as it might be, Nathan was grateful.
Sophie grabbed his arm, tugged him along to the kitchen, giving him just enough time to tell Hardison to get into one of Winham's supply-websites.
He poured himself a glass, but Sophie took it from his hand and drank it herself, filling it with water instead to give to him.
“How can you let him do this, Nate,” she hissed, anger coming off her in waves. “You figure you can't pull it off yourself and let him do it?”
“No, dammit, Sophie! I didn't make him do anything, he offered!”
“So you agreed with that stupid plan? You agreed with that, went along with that, even though...” she turned a bit, trying to see if the two remaining teammates were listening in on them. Eliot had left right after their talk, the one they'd had right here at the same spot Nathan was now standing with Sophie. He'd gone, giving him the doubtful honors of revealing the Big Plan. “Even though you know what it might do to him?” she whispered, still angry but a lot more under control now.
And that raised Nathan's hackles, like only she could, like only her controlled fury could ever do. Who was she to suggest he didn't know or didn't care about Eliot. Who was she to insinuate that he'd happily gone along with it, without thinking it through. Who was she, to act like she was the only one who knew and cared about the Eliot they all knew - who was she to just ignore the other Eliots, the ones they didn't know, but knew of. Or at least should know of.
“So you think I just let him hash that plan and happily sang along? Huh? That it? Sophie Devereaux, master-grifter with a heart of gold, working, against her better judgment, with the uncaring, slimy ex-insurance-investigator who was out to get his team into trouble. That it? That's your play in this?”
“How dare you! You know me, you know that's not how I think!”
“And you know me!” he roared back, not caring about anyone listening. “You know me, better than anyone, you know who I am. That's what you say all the time, right? So if you know me, how can you think that? Or even hint that's what you're thinking? If you know me so well, how can you think I don't give a damn, and if you think you know him so much better, darling, you better ask yourself one thing.”
She stood still, glaring up to where he was leaning over her, closer than he'd realized he'd come, right in her personal space. She didn't flinch or blink, just shot daggers at him with her dark eyes, not afraid. He took a step back, taking a deep breath to get himself back under control. He wouldn't be any good for them like this, he had to be in control.
“What's that?” Parker asked from across the room, not even pretending not to hear their fight. “What's the one thing she has to ask herself?”
Nate looked at the three, at Sophie, whose look had softened again, gone caring again. At Parker, curious, detached and engaged at the same time, and at Hardison, who was wiping his face with his hand, wide-eyed and maybe a little scared of him. Or maybe just scared in general.
“You shouldn't ask yourself why I would allow Eliot to do this.” - what a joke, as if he had any real say in what Eliot would decide to be the right thing - “You should ask yourself why he'd want to.”
**
After all was said and done, the hustle and bustle of the planning stages had intensified. Hardison had hacked himself into one disgusting site after the other, placing the fake auction to lure their mark in. He would be the only bidder, though to Malcolm Winham, it would appear to be ten or eleven people with the same interest.
Hardison also planted a worm-like thingy or something that would, with one click, lay those sites wide open to the feds to find and destroy. Nobody had objected when he'd announced this, Sophie had even petted his back for it.
And if Alec looked a little hollow-eyed and haunted after his late-night hacking, well... There always was a price to pay. He was the only one who could do it, and that was really all there was to it.
Parker had once more broken into Winham's home, this time inserting evidence to his flashdrive instead of taking information out of it. Sophie had slipped into Anna Blockard, broker of every deal that was possible to make on earth, Nate had planned and planned and drunken whiskey and Eliot... well, he'd disappeared. Had said he'd take care of getting the right kind of things to hook their mark with and then had gone offline and off the grid. He'd apparently even changed his shoes, because there was no tracking-device on him, as Hardison had confirmed. Even Parker had returned from her mission to follow him, head hung low and sad pout on her lips. Nathan had nearly smiled.
Three weeks after first deciding on Winham as their mark, seven days after finding his very dirty, disgusting secrets, they were ready. The bait was cast and Winham had already started to sniff it out.
The plan was in motion, and there was no stopping it now.
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