Title: House of Cards
Author(s): One Small
Monkey
E-mail address: justplainalf@msn.com
Date:
Rating: K+
Warnings: very mild profanity and “adult themes”
Disclaimer: "SWAT
Kats: The Radical Squadron," its characters and concepts are copyright
to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc and are used without permission.
Summary: Even
the SwatKats can use a helping hand…if they can find one.
Author's Comments/Notes: Sorry it took so long (three years?!)
to fix. Life has a way of interfering.
Chance walked
into the garage, humming to himself. Three weeks! He
and Benny had a friendly rivalry at the pool hall going, but Chance had found
himself at the wrong end of a losing streak for the last three weeks. Finally,
this evening, he had met Benny at the bar after work and, to his amazement,
won, bringing the streak to a merciful end.
He headed
towards the kitchen, but was surprised to see a light on in the office. Heading over in that direction, Chance spied Jake sitting in the
office through the window. Chance reached for the door handle so he
could brag about his victory, but something about the way Jake sat there
looked…wrong. He had his head down, like he was reading something, but there
wasn't much in front of him. A very short letter, a few
envelopes, two or three old work orders. The more Chance stood there,
the more weirded out he started feeling. What's up
with Jake? Finally, Chance pushed the door open, and decided to defuse the
feeling with a little levity.
"You done memorizing that desk, buddy?"
Jake barely
moved. His eyes flicked up to where Chance was standing, then returned down to
the desk. Chance could've sworn he heard Jake muttering or growling under his
breath, too - something he wasn't sure he'd ever heard him do before.
"Jake, you all right?"
Jake sort of
shuddered and leaned back in his chair. "Chance, buddy, I'm
sorry...it's...well...it's just not a good day, OK?"
"What's
not good about it?"
Putting on a
feeble attempt at a smile, Jake said, "It's nothing. Really."
Chance shook
his head. "Don't pull that on me, Jake. Something's
up." He got up, grabbed a soda from the small fridge in there, then sat down across the desk from Jake. "Talk."
Jake stared
into Chance's eyes, then hung his head down.
"It's...I don't know...everything, I guess."
Chance
smirked. "OK, gotcha. It's nothing and it's everything. Lemme guess. It's something in between. Come on - talk to
your partner here. You know the rule - no secrets."
Jake said,
"No secret, Chance. Really, it's everything. It's just...look." He
waved his hand over towards where the garage was. "We've got cars up the
yin-yang to take care of."
A half-frown
appeared on Chance's face. Since when was this new? "We'll get to them
when we get to them. You know that."
"Yeah, I
know." Jake began talking a bit faster. "And in between cracked
engine blocks and failed master cylinders, we'll go off and save the city in
that plane of ours. What has it been...four times this week?"
Chance
shrugged. "Yeah. Sounds right.
You said it yourself - a vigilante's work is never done."
"Bingo.
It's never done." Jake shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "I'm
down to what? Four, five missiles? Any spare time I
get the next six weeks, I'm going to have to make more...or else we're stuck
saving the city with our fire extinguishers."
"Well,
maybe next week, Dark Kat'll be attacking us with
fire monsters." Chance tried on a goofy grin.
Jake narrowed
his eyes further. "No jokes, Furlong, please. Not
now."
Immediately,
Chance sobered up. "Sorry."
"Then
there's this." Jake pointed to the short letter that was sitting in front
of him.
"What is
it?"
"A
little love note from the Enforcers. Seems it's time to audit
our books here at the salvage yard."
"So?"
"So?
Take a look around, Chance." He indicated the papers and files strewn
around the office, the couch, the floor. "Think this'll pass
inspection?"
"Well,
we'll clean it up."
"When? During all that spare time of ours?"
Chance
thought for a minute. "Why don't we can hire someone to take care of it?
Temps work cheap, right?"
Jake half-laughed. "Yeah, I thought the same...but then I
thought some more. How are we supposed to explain our sudden disappearances to
this...paper pusher?" Jake faked waving to an imaginary person across from
him. "Hey, if we're not back by 5, lock up for us!"
Chance
shrugged again. "You never know. We could make it work."
Jake leaned
back, put his head against the wall, and closed his eyes. "Buddy, listen,
it's easy to say 'we could make it work', but it's a major pain in the tail
making it work. And frankly, I'm sick of making it work. I don't know if I can
make it work by myself anymore...Don't get me wrong." He stopped and
looked at Chance for a second. "I wouldn't have made it this far if you
weren't here doing it with me. But how long can we keep this up?"
"As long as we have to."
"Well,
yeah, but I don't want to have to anymore. Y'know how
much we still owe for our 'little incident'?"
"Nope." Chance rubbed his eyes. "And I don't
think I want to."
"Yeah,
well, I know...and you're right - you don't want to know." Jake sighed
again and rubbed his eyes, sighed once more, and tried to keep his voice level.
"I chose this life, Chance, and deep down, I don't really regret it. But I
don't like living like this. It's like - I dunno - I feel like my whole life is
this house of cards. It's still standing, but it ain't steady at all. Just one
small wind, and..." He waved his hand.
Chance looked
more concerned, but said, "I don't think it's really all that bad,
Jake."
Jake opened
his eyes and looked squarely at Chance. "When's the last
time either of us had a date?"
With a smile,
Chance said, "Last week."
Jake looked
askance at his partner. "Taking Miss Briggs back to
Chance
shrugged. "It does in my book."
Jake leaned
forward. "There you go...just riding in the same vehicle with her is a
date to you. You don't think that's sort of pathetic?"
Chance
wrinkled his brow. "And what about you, lover boy?
Any hotties lined up for
Saturday?"
Jake leaned
back against the wall again. "No. There's the point. If even a miracle
happened, and I managed to find someone who wanted to go out with a third-rate
mechanic, I couldn't go anyway, 'cause we're so busy. We've got - what -
monsters in the streets, busted cars, a depleted missile stockpile, a mound of
paperwork...and that's Jake's life, everybody." He closed his eyes, and
began rubbing his face.
Chance was
about to reply when the phone rang. Jake opened his eyes and looked at Chance,
who looked back at him. After three rings, Jake slowly said, "Aren't you
gonna get it?"
Chance kept
his eyes on Jake, but reached over to grab the phone. "Yeah?
Jake & Chance's Repair & Salvage."
"I was
wondering when you were going to pick up," said Miss Briggs. "Look,
Chance, I know it's really short notice, but Mayor Manx had the transmission on
his limo go out on him. Would you be able to squeeze it in this evening?"
Chance glanced
back at Jake one more time, then scratched the side of his head and sighed.
"Look, I'm not sure I can. We're really backed up here."
Miss Briggs
sort of gasped. "Oh, but I already told him it would be no problem!"
Chance
growled, "Yeah, well, today it's a problem. Trust me - I wouldn't tell you
that if it wasn't."
Miss Briggs
put a little edge on her voice. "Well, what am I supposed to tell Mayor
Manx?"
Tell him to
get off his fat tail and walk, thought Chance. "Look, tell him we might be
able to squeeze him in tomorrow. It's just not gonna fly tonight."
Chance could
almost picture her leaning forward and putting her hand on her hip. "And
what are you two so busy doing today? Or shouldn't I ask?"
Chance had
had enough. "Now, look here, you know we bend over backwards for you and hizonor every time you need somethin'.
But tonight, we're just over our heads here!"
Miss Briggs
was a bit taken aback. "Well, all right. But what am I supposed to do
until then?"
Chance
growled back, "Beats me. Call Feral. Maybe he can stop polishin'
his medals long enough to fix Manx's limo." He slammed the phone down. "Crud!" He turned back to Jake, who was staring at
him with large eyes. Chance thought for a second, then
waved it away. "Aw, she had it coming."
Jake shook his
head. "Now I got you doing it."
"No.
That had nothin' to do with you." Chance's eyes
suddenly lit up. "Why don't you take the evening off?"
Jake looked
incredulous. "What! With us as far behind as we are!"
Chance
shrugged. "We're so far behind now, you taking the day off ain't gonna make much difference. Besides, you let me run off and play
pool today."
"I
wouldn't ask you to give up your pool games with Bennie, Chance. You know
that."
"I know.
But fair's fair. I'll take care of the cars. Go back to your room. Watch some
TV or something. Get your mind back on track."
Jake looked
down for a minute. "I'm not sure it'd be any help."
"Yeah, but could it be?"
Jake
half-shrugged and drew a large breath. "It might. I'm willing to try
anything at this point." He looked up. "You sure you don't
mind?"
Chance
smiled. "Are you kidding? If I know you, you'll be back here in twenty
minutes, tail between your legs."
Jake smiled
back, stood up and put his hand on Chance's shoulder. "Thanks,
buddy. I won't forget this."
Chance
laughed, putting his hand on Jake's. "Yeah, like I'll let ya!" He
watched as Jake left the office, then let his smile
disappear. He sat there glumly for a minute, then jumped up and headed back to
the garage. He walked over to a half-rebuilt engine and yanked on the
alternator. This ain't good, he thought. Jake's always been the strong one when
I've been ready to blow. What the heck are we going to do if we both get down
in the dumps?
Jake sifted through his CDs, finally settling on one of his
favorites - the Atomic Zombie Mob. He slipped it into the boombox
and pressed play, then jumped up into his hammock. The screaming guitars and
drums hit him full-on, and he smiled a bit. After about twenty seconds, the
smile faded. Jake jumped back down and stopped the disc, then jumped back up.
He thought, I probably don't need something that's
louder than my brain can think. My mind's going like 200 mph here. What am I
supposed to do to slow it down?
He jumped
back into his hammock and took another deep breath. He thought, I read
somewhere that when your brain gets all messed up, the trick is to not work too
hard at thinking - to just let the thoughts come and go. He sat quietly for a
minute. Thoughts came and went, all right, but none of them were pleasant or helpful
- in fact, many of them were downright upsetting. After about a minute, he
slapped the wall with his open palm, sending himself rocking slightly. Heck,
what's wrong with me? This isn't anything I haven't dealt with before.
He found this
thought slightly comforting. Reaching below the hammock to his desk for a pad
of paper and a pencil, Jake scribbled down:
1. This isn't
anything I haven't dealt with before.
He sucked on
the end of the pencil for a second, then wrote:
2. Things
seem impossible...
A loud deep
buzzing filled the air. Jake threw the pad and pencil against the wall with all
his force. "No! No! No!" he yelled, but his body obeyed better than
his mind - he was already out the door.
Razor leapt
out of the TurboKat and skulked over to his locker.
He yanked his helmet off, tossed it into the corner and announced, "Dibs
on the shower."
T-Bone came
behind him at a respectable distance, nose wrinkled. "If you weren't
headed in, buddy, I'd throw you in."
Wheeling
around, Jake tossed his hands in the air. "Hey, just because I had to go
down in the sewer, again, while you hung out in the TurboKat."
He started shucking off his gloves. "You know that guy I pulled out of the
sewer?"
"Yeah - geez, what a moron. Heck, he had plentya time to hightail it outta there..."
"He was
a photographer."
"Oh! Shoulda
guessed." He walked over to his locker to pull out his coveralls.
"You shoulda let him drown."
Jake shook
his head. "Yeah - that'd be just what my conscience needs. Besides, you
know the paper would have a field day with that one." He held up his hands
to mimic a newspaper headline. "'Swat Kat Refuses Aid to Press -
Conspiracy Suggested'. So, instead he'll probably get himself a promotion for
getting the story of the month...and I'll get...what?"
"A hot shower."
"Some
reward." He peeled off his uniform, and kicked it across the floor with
distaste. "Now I'll have to wash this thing again."
Chance leaned
against his locker, trying to read Jake's mood. "You
feeling any better?"
Jake looked
back at Chance and half-shrugged. "Sort of. It's
always better as long as we're out on missions like this."
"Why's
that?"
"I
dunno. No time to think about it, I guess. I'll see how I feel after the
shower."
He shuffled
off towards the bathroom, while Chance headed back to the garage. Nothing on
the answering machine - cool, he thought. Then again, that means Miss Briggs
didn't call back. Of course, why should she? I did sort of tick her off. She'll
come around. Well, I'm pretty sure she will. He walked up to the Chrysler and picked
up a socket wrench.
The first
brake pad was already on when Jake came in. He was freshly scrubbed, but
wearing a ripped T-shirt and jeans. "Hey, there, sharp dressed kat,"
said Chance.
"Messy
clothes for a messy mind," said Jake. "Look, I've been thinking about
that audit."
"Ditto. First off, what are we going to do about all
that paperwork?"
"Well,
maybe you were right. Maybe we could advertise for someone...find
someone to take care of the paperwork for us...someone we could take into our
confidence here." He shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt to see who applies, in
any case."
A big grin
played on Chance's face. "So ya think ya might wanna use this?" He
dug into his front pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, which he handed off
to Jake. Jake unfolded it and read, "Wanted - parttime
office clerk...what's this?"
"Want ad. S'OK to call it into the
Times?"
Jake didn't
move for a second, then smiled. "You bet. But you
spelled 'opportunity' wrong."
Chance
crossed his arms. "Hey, as long as you're in this funk, someone's got to
get some stuff done around here."
"Well,
thanks for stepping in. I'll call it in tonight." Jake high-fived Chance as he walked over to a beat-up
"Well,
you gotta have some fun."
"Grbtlrbrntz...," muttered
Chance, coming into Jake's workshop.
Jake looked
up from his missile. "Another great interview, huh?"
Seating
himself on the desk well away from the explosives, Chance spread his arms wide.
"
Jake looked
confused. "But we haven't even hired her yet."
Chance
nodded. "I know. I told her she can have every week off. And the
guy before her needed help spelling his name right."
"And the girl before him? The one you thought
was so good-looking?"
Chance shook
his head. "Dumb as a box of sticks." Then he smiled, big. "But I
got her phone number...you know, just in case."
Jake smiled
back. "That's Chance, always thinking."
"Yep. But, heck, Jake, we may as well forget about hiring
anyone. I mean, forget about that whole confidence thing - we're having enough
problems now finding someone who can even do the job."
"Hm. You want me to take
this next interview? I could use a break from...this." He made a face at
the missile parts.
Chance waved
him towards the door. "Be my guest. Just don't get your hopes up. I don't
need you getting back here all depressed."
Jake wiped
his hands and walked to the front of the garage. Waiting there, absently
looking out the window, was a smallish black kat in a
poorly pressed sports shirt and jeans. Jake gave him the two-second lookover. Bookworm, computer geek, probably watches public
TV. On the plus side, he probably doesn't have any friends. Then again, he
probably blabs any secrets he might come upon to what friends he had.
Turning around,
the black kat smiled politely and held out his hand. "Mr
Clawson, correct?" he asked. Jake nodded. "I'm Marcus Greene."
They shook hands, and Jake waved him into the office. Jake took his place at
the desk, and tried to slip into businessman mode. He scanned the resume, then frowned. College degree? Office manager of Megakat Computers? This guy was obviously
way overqualified. He's probably thinking this was a much bigger position than
it is. Well, no reason to string him along. Better just get rid of him.
"You realize that this is just a part-time position?" he asked,
peeking over the top of the paper.
Marcus
nodded. "Yeah. Right now, I'm mainly doing
freelance work where I can set my own hours, so I'm sort of looking for
something to supplement that."
Tilting his
head a bit, Jake added, "...and the pay here isn't that great."
Cryptically,
Marcus smiled and said, "Yeah, I figured as much."
Jake paused
for a few seconds. "Well, I'm sure you could handle the work...but I don't
really see why you'd want to work here. You could probably pull down a much
better position than this with these credentials."
Marcus
answered, "Times're tough, Mr
Clawson. You take what work comes along. Besides, this location...appeals to
me."
Jake flipped
the page over to look at his list of references. "What type of freelance
work do you do?"
Marcus gave
Jake a self-satisfied smile. "A couple of things.
I do some bookkeeping for a law firm, and I do a little free-lance computer
work out of my home."
"Enough
to keep you busy?"
"Not
busy enough - that's why I'm here."
"I don't
wanna work you to death."
Marcus
politely laughed. "That's no problem. I've got plenty of time for my
hobbies."
"Football,
hunting?" asked Jake, mildly sarcastically.
Marcus
recognized a dig when he heard on, but he played along. "No, gave those
up. Um...I solve mysteries."
Jake glanced
up from the reference list, smiled, and offered, "Detective novels?"
Marcus shook
his head. "No, real life mysteries." He
leaned forward a bit. "I recently solved a rather...unusual mystery."
Jake
continued looking over the resume, and said, absently, "Really?"
Marcus leaned
back. "Yes. My last project was determining the identities of the SwatKats."
Looking back
up at Marcus, Jake counted to five, then complimented himself on remaining
calm...well, outwardly calm. He quietly took a breath, then leaned over the
desk and said, "Let me get this straight. You figured out who the SwatKats are?"
Nodding,
Marcus said, "Yeah."
Jake paused, then asked, "Well, don't keep me in suspense. Tell me -
who are they?"
Marcus paused
before saying , "I don't think I should tell you
that." He leaned forward, bringing his head inches from Jake's. He put his
hands on the desk, still smiling, and continued in a very low voice. "For
instance, say you're one of the SwatKats. You
wouldn't want anyone going around and giving out that information, would
you?"
Jake shook
his head. "Well, no, I guess not But you...you
figured this out? By yourself?"
Jake didn't
think Marcus' smile could get any bigger, but he was wrong. Marcus leaned back,
his proud smile threatening to consume his face. "All by
my lonesome."
"Who...hired
you to do this?"
Marcus said,
"Oh, it was just me. Like I said, it's just a hobby. I was just curious. Kind of an intellectual exercise, simply for my own personal
gratification. You know, just to see if I could do it. I don't plan on
publishing my findings or anything."
Jake took a
deep breath, then let it out. "Have
you...confirmed your guess in any way? Like, have you met them? I mean, the ones
you believe to be the SwatKats?"
"Yes, I
have, in fact." Suddenly, Marcus shook his head. "Well, to be honest,
I've met one of them. And I hope to meet the other fairly soon."
"Mm-hm." Jake stood up. "Could you wait here a minute? I probably should introduce
you to my partner here." Unsteadily, he walked to the garage. "Hey,
Chance!" Chance peered out from under a hood. "Could
you...come here a minute?"
Uncertainly,
Chance closed the hood and came into the lobby. Marcus stood up to greet him.
"Hello, Mr Furlong. I'm Marcus Greene." He
held out his hand again.
Chance
reached out, but, noticing how greasy his own hand was, pulled it away at the
last second, and sort of waved. "Uh, good to meetcha, Marcus."
"Mr Greene is interested in our part-time position
here," Jake said, too cheerfully, "and it seems he's quite the
detective. He's solved all sorts of little mysteries..." Then, with as
little emphasis as he could, he added, "...like finding out who the SwatKats are." Chance wasn't quite the actor Jake was.
His eyes got really big, and his mouth slowly dropped open. Jake went on,
"And he says he's met one of them...isn't that so, Mr
Greene?"
Looking
rather smug, Marcus admitted, "Well, actually, I've met both of
them."
Jake, pushing
by Chance, strode over to Marcus and put his arm around his shoulder, leading
him towards the exit. "Well, Marcus, I'm really happy you stopped by. I'm
sure you'd make a great addition to our little place here, and we'll be giving
you a call either way by the end of the week."
Marcus looked
behind him, flabbergasted, but managed to blurt out, "It was really nice
meeting you two," before Jake half led, half pushed him out the door. Jake
turned to Chance, and for a full minute, neither of them said anything.
Finally, Jake swung his hand around, as if knocking over a house of cards, then
walked back into the workshop.
Chance was
one kat who rarely had any trouble focusing on his work. Until tonight, that
is. It took him seven tries to balance one tire. He tried to keep his mind on the
task at hand, but he kept looking out of the corner of his eye at Jake's door.
He wanted to talk this situation over with him, but having grown up with Jake,
he could tell that Jake wasn't in any mood to talk just yet.
Finally, he
heard Jake exit the workshop, presumably headed towards his room. Chance washed
his hands and then followed. When he got there, he expected to see Jake pacing
back and forth, ready to hash this out. To Chance's surprise, though, Jake had
flopped on his stomach in his hammock, one leg hanging out, head on his arms,
staring at nothing in particular. Chance looked at him for a few seconds, then
jumped up and sat on his dresser - his usual spot when hanging out in this
room. For a bit, neither one spoke, but Chance finally felt like he'd better
say something.
"That
don't look all that comfortable," he said.
"It's
not." Jake continued staring into space, swinging idly. Chance waited for
him to say something more, but after about a minute passed, it seemed clear he
wasn't going to. Chance decided to try again.
"So?"
he ventured.
"So?"
Jake echoed.
Chance, sick of fishing for conversation, shot back, "Yeah,
so?
So what the heck we gonna do here, Jake!" His heels pounded the side of
the dresser. "Buy this loser off?"
Jake slowly
turned his eyes towards Chance. "With what?"
"Heck, I
dunno." Chance furrowed his brow. "We'll raise the money somehow. We
can sell some stuff."
"Like
the TurboKat?"
Chance jumped
off the dresser and stood next to Jake's hammock, which put them pretty much
eye to eye. He had tried to be nice here - after all, Jake had been having a
really bad week. But now he'd gotten just a few too many smart-aleck comments
from Jake. He took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper. He peered into
Jake's eyes and said, in a low voice, "It's nice to see you're taking this
so well."
Jake sighed
again, pulled his leg back into the hammock, and tried to bring himself back to
the here and now. "Chance, I'm sorry. It's just...well, to be honest, I've
sort of been expecting something like this for a while."
"Say
what?"
"Well,
we're out there fighting the bad guys a couple times a week. How long before
Kat's Eye News decides they're gonna track us down?" Jake smirked. "I
just thought it'd be Ann Gora at our door, not some
dweeb."
Chance
crossed his arms. "Fine. If you've been expecting
this to happen, you musta spent more time than me figurin' out what the heck we're s'posed
to do."
"Well,
kinda sorta."
"Good.
Now tell me - what the heck are we s'posed to
do?"
Jake rolled
over onto his side. "Well, I can tell you this much - I don't think we'll
be paying him off."
Chance jumped
back onto the dresser. "Oh?"
"For
starters, as I said, we don't have anything to pay him off with. Also, my guess
is he doesn't want to be paid off." Jake made a vague gesture with
his finger. "If he did, why'd he bother applying for the job?"
Scratching
the back of his neck, Chance muttered, "You lost me."
Jake sat up
in the hammock, slowly, so as not to spill out onto the ground. He started
ticking points off onto his fingers. "OK, let's assume he's after money.
If he is, he sure seems to be going about it the wrong way."
"Really? How should he go about it?"
"Well,
why didn't he...why didn't he cut words out of newspapers, glue them to a note,
and send it to us? Or give us an anonymous phone call?"
"Oh,
come on, Jake!"
"No, I'm
serious, buddy. I admit, I don't know nothin' about blackmail, except what I've learned from
late-night TV shows. But still, why show up at our front door? Why introduce
himself to us, tell us his name and everything? He certainly didn't have
to."
"Why
shouldn't he? It's not like we'd waste him right there in the lobby."
"Sure, we
know we wouldn't do that, but how would he know that? We've heard plenty
of talk show hosts say the Swat Kats are a couple of vigilantes who shoot
things just for kicks. If you believe them, we'd have no problem wasting
someone who tried to crash our little party." Jake inclined his head
towards the office. "And it's not just that. Why give us a resume, with
his address and phone number, and a list of references?"
Chance
hesitated before saying, "All that info could be fake."
Jake nodded,
"Yeah, it could be...except it isn't." Jake jerked a thumb over his
shoulder. "That may not have been Marcus Greene we saw this afternoon, but
there is a Marcus Greene who held those jobs, who knows those people, and who
went to those schools."
"You
know that for sure." Chance sounded skeptical.
"I made
a couple phone calls. Everything seems to pan out."
Chance
thought for a minute. "OK, then. Where does that leave us?"
"Well, it sort of leaves out the blackmail theory. No matter how I look
at it, I just can't make it stick."
"Well,
what's this guy after, then?"
With a shrug,
Jake said, "As far as I can tell, we'll have to take it at face value. He
came in because he wants a job."
"A job! That's it!"
"Sure,
why not?"
"Heck,
Jake, don't take this wrong, but you don't go up to the SwatKats
and ask them for a job!"
"Marcus
did. And why not?" Jake repeated, smirking.
"We advertised, didn't we?"
"Well,
if a job is all he's after, what's with all the hints and sly looks?"
Jake
scratched his head. "I'm not sure, but I've got a few guesses."
Chance folded
his arms. "All right, let's hear 'em."
"Well,
first off, let's pretend he's being nice." Jake held up his hand to
Chance. "I know, I know - you don't think he was all that nice, and,
frankly, neither do I. But still - look at it this
way. Marcus apparently knows we're the SwatKats, and
from the want ad, he also knows that we need a clerk in our garage here. It
doesn't take a genius to figure out that whoever we hire has got to be someone
we can trust."
"I know.
We've been over this."
"Yeah, from our point of view. But look at it from
Marcus' for a second. Should he just say to me during our interview - 'Hey, by
the way, I know you guys are the SwatKats, but don't
sweat it, I won't tell anyone'? Maybe this was just his way of letting us know
that he knows."
Chance
thought for a minute, then shifted position on the
dresser. "I'm not sure I'm buying it."
"I'm not
sure I am, either. But it's the best theory I've got right now."
"Well,
it's possible, I guess." Chance banged his heels against the dresser a
couple more times, head hung down, lost in thought.
Jake smiled
wickedly. "OK, then, try this one on for size. He's trying to make sure we
hire him."
Chance looked
up. "How? By ticking us both
off?"
"No, by hinting that he'll tell the world about us if we don't
hire him."
Chance tilted
his head a bit. "Oh, so now you think he is blackmailin'
us?"
Jake shrugged.
"I don't know, buddy. I'm just tossing ideas out. What's your
theory?"
"Me?"
Chance thought for a second, then tossed up his hands.
"Heck, I dunno what to think."
"Well,
whatever Marc's reasons were, he did what he did, and now we've got to figure
out what to do."
Sighing,
Chance said, "Well, what do you think we should do?"
Jake paused
for a few seconds before saying, "I say we hire him."
"Jake,
you're not serious."
"Why not? He's the only qualified kat we had come
through our door the last three days."
As Jake
expected, Chance looked very doubtful. "Well, maybe so, but do we actually
want him working here? And how do we know we can trust him?"
Jake said,
"I think he showed us we could." Seeing Chance's blank look, Jake
went on, "You know, by giving us all this information on himself."
"Perhaps,
but it hardly means we should put our lives in his hands, Jake."
Jake
shrugged. "Well, if you want to get right down to it, our so-called lives
are in his hands right now, aren't they? Besides, we said that when we hired
someone, we were gonna have to take them into our confidence, right? It looks
like we can just skip over that part."
"Hm." Chance thought about
that for a minute. "So...now what? Call him up
and tell him he's hired?"
Jake said, "Well, sure." He lay back down and
swung for a minute in deep thought. "You know, this might not prove to be
so bad - sort of admitting someone into our circle here."
Chance rolled
his eyes. "Whatever, Jake. If you want to make
some new friends, fine. But let's lay off on giving him a key to the TurboKat until we know him a bit better, all right?"
The phone
rang. Jake leaned down and grabbed it off the wall.
"H'lo? Hey, Kate... Nah, just got off, really - what's up?... Lunch tomorrow?" Jake
glanced at Chance, who half-shook his head. "Ummm...no, doesn't look good. We have, oh, five
hundred cars or so to get done by last week, if y'know
what I mean. Sorry 'bout that... Yeah, maybe by next month, we'll be caught up
enough... OK... yeah, say hi to Mom..." Jake, out of the corner of his
eye, caught Chance waving franticly. "Oh, and Chance says hi... uh-huh.
See ya."
Jake hung the
phone up and shook his head. "Can't even squeeze in
lunch with my sister. Some life." He
jumped out of the hammock and stretched a bit. "Ah, well. Tomorrow
morning, I'll give Marcus a call. But you're right - we'll probably have to
feel him out a bit. Gotta crawl before you can walk."
Chance smiled
a bit. "Deep. Who said that?"
Jake
shrugged. "Some dead kat, I think." He looked at his watch. "You
know what? I think I'll take another crack at the Mazda."
"Buddy,
it's after
Jake turned
around at his door. "Yeah, I know...but with the state I've been in, I'd
better take advantage of any burst of energy I get. You go on to bed."
Chance thought
for a second, then rolled his eyes again. "Who
are we kidding? Neither of us is getting any sleep tonight. Come on, I'll keep
you company."
Marcus came
out of the office and met Jake and Chance, both with arms crossed, right by the
door.
"Well?"
asked Chance.
"I
thought I wanted a challenge, but..." Marcus glanced back at the door.
"Whew. I think I can manage it..." He held up a finger. "...if
you let me work full-time until I catch up."
With a glance
over at Chance, Jake answered, "I think we can swing that, Mr Greene. How long do you expect that to take?"
"Ten, eleven months." Seeing Jake's eyes
open wide, he grinned. "Seven, eight weeks tops. From here on out, just
Marc, please."
Jake looked
over at Chance, then back at Marc. "Uh...Marc...we have the Enforcers
coming in to audit this place four weeks from tomorrow."
Marc leaned
against the doorframe and crossed his arms, frowning. "Well, that changes
things a bit, doesn't it?" He thought for a second. "Any
problem paying me overtime?"
Again, Jake
and Chance exchanged glances. "If we have to," said Jake.
"Oh,
you'll have to...if you want this done. You realize you have a stack of
invoices to send out about yay high?" He held
his thumb and forefinger about three inches apart.
"It's
not like they're gonna get paid, anyway," muttered Chance.
"Yeah,
you might want to save that part 'til last, Marc," agreed Jake.
Marc raised
his eyebrows and waited for either of the twosome to say something else. When
they didn't, he ventured, "Um, I'm guessing that at this job there's some
stuff I shouldn't ask about. Is this one of those things?"
Jake
shrugged. "It's just not important."
"Getting
paid is not important," said Marc, wondering what was going on. After a
pause, Marc sighed and said, "Hokey dokey. So
how do you want this done?"
Frowning,
Jake said, "Well, the accounts payable haven't been sent out in...heck, two months? If you can take care of that
first..."
Marc shook
his head. "It'll be murder trying to balance the books before I can find
anything."
Waving his hands
around, Jake said, "Then whatever. Make it as close to organized as you
can make it."
Marc reached
into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "There's
some things I'm going to need."
This time,
the look between Jake and Chance lasted longer, and it was Chance who spoke. "What things, exactly?"
"Relax,
sir, no company car or anything. Just some basic office supplies - files,
labels, pens and a typewriter."
Chance
narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with the typewriter in there?"
"Oh,
nothing at all - except it needs a ribbon, it keeps shredding the paper, and it
has no N key."
Jake nodded.
"I think we can shell out for those, Marc."
"Also,
as I go through all these bills and parts orders, if I run into any... 'miscellaneous expenses'..." Marc inclined his head
towards the door that led to the hangar. "...you'll let me know?"
Jake
shrugged. "Of course."
"Cool. One more thing. Could I borrow the tow truck to get this
stuff? I don't think I can get back here on my cycle balancing a typewriter on
my lap." Jake dug into his pocket, withdrew a pack of keys and handed them
to Marc. "Thanks. Back in a bit." Marc spun
around and headed out the door.
Jake walked
back to the garage, but stopped when he noticed Chance wasn't behind him.
Turning back, he saw Chance back in the same place he left him, staring at the
door after Marc. "Chance?" he asked.
Chance
blinked twice and turned to face Jake. "I still dunno about that kat,
Jake."
"I know.
Let's not go over this again." Jake went back into the garage, this time
followed by Chance.
As Joke went
back down under the Mazda, Chance opened the hood of a Volkswagen. After taking
the air filter out, Chance stared at it in his hands for a second, then turned towards the Mazda.
"Hey, Jake."
Jake rolled
from under the vehicle and looked up at Chance.
"What
are we s'posed to do if Marc can't keep his trap
shut?"
"Fire
him, I guess."
"Well,
obviously. But then, y'know, it'll be too late. Everyone'll know. What do we do then?"
Jake
shrugged. "I always thought we could write a book."
"A book?"
"Yeah,"
said Jake, a little more excitedly. "We write one of those tell-all books,
go on all the talk shows, make a million bucks, pay off Feral,
pack up the TurboKat, and move to an island
somewhere." He reached into the toolbox on the floor.
"Oh."
Chance went in the back, got a new air filter, and put it in the car. He was
screwing the lid back on the housing when he turned back to Jake. "So why th'heck haven't we done that yet?"
"'Cause I can't write worth crud." Jake found the socket
he was looking for, put it on the end of his wrench, then
shoved himself back under the car. "Besides," he said from under
there, "our typewriter doesn't have an N key."
Chance changed position on the sofa yet again, then finally
reached over and turned the TV off. Something's really wrong, he thought. I
can't even get into Fraidy Cat. He turned to see Marc
emerge from the office, rubbing his eyes.
"What
time is it?" Marc asked.
"
"Ah - no
wonder I'm starving. Any place around here deliver?"
"No. The
steak place down the street does take-out. Menu's up there on the wall."
"Thanks."
Marc picked up the phone and dialed. "Yeah, I'd like to get an order for
take-out...ummmmmmm...the shish kabobs...and could I
get those without meat? Yeah, no meat...no, that's it...fifteen minutes? OK,
thanks." He hung up the phone.
Chance stared
at him. Veggie kabobs? This guy's weirder than I
thought. He picked up a magazine as Marc sat down across from him.
"Where's
Jake?" Marc asked.
"Emergency tow." Suddenly, he tossed the magazine back
onto the table and leaned towards Marc. "Listen, what's this all
about?"
"What's
what all about?"
"You. I mean, what th'heck are you
doing here? You've never been back there, have you?" he asked, pointing
back towards the Turbokat. Seeing Marc shake his head, he looked at him out of
the corner of his eye. "See, that seems awfully weird. You go to all this
trouble to track us down, but then you don't bother to look around once you're
here?"
Marc
shrugged. "You're paying me to do your paperwork, not gawk at your plane.
You know, when you get down to it, this is just a job."
Chance
countered, "No, washin' dishes at that steak
house is a job. This is something else."
Marc put his
hands behind his head and smiled. "Well, yeah, I guess. It's a job, and
it's something else."
"So
what's your game, then?"
Leaning
forward, Marc said, "Mr. Furlong..." he began, waiting for the
response, "Call me Chance." When he didn't get it, he went on. "...Tell me about my life."
"Huh?"
"Tell me
what you know about my life."
Chance
furrowed his brow. "Uh...you're a college kat, you work in
computers..." He paused, then shrugged. "I
guess that's all I know."
"And
almost all there is to know. My life hasn't exactly been one huge slab of
adventure."
Chance bared
his teeth and growled, "I see. So you're out to be honorary SwatKat."
Marc held up
his hands. "Huh-uh. Not even close. Look, I have
trouble making paper airplanes fly. And all I know about missiles is that
they're long, skinny and made of metal. That's your territory, not mine."
Looking
confused, Chance said, "So, then why're you
here?"
Once again,
Marc shrugged. "I wanted a second job, so I perused the want ads. I saw
your ad in the paper, and when I saw where it was..." He smiled. "I
thought it was too good to pass up."
"So you
already knew who we were when you say the ad?" demanded Chance. When Marc
nodded, Chance said, "How'd you know that, anyhow?"
"A lot
of research, some educated guesses, a little dumb luck. I went back through
every news story I could get my hands on, watched every bit of TV coverage I
could on you guys. I started noticing this running theme. You seem to have
this...love/hate relationship with the Enforcers." Chance made a face as
Marc continued, "So I figured - wait a second. Maybe these guys were
Enforcer pilots at one point. I checked some public records, and narrowed it
down to you two."
"You
make it sound easy."
Marc looked
smug. "Well, it took a lot of time. In any event, once I had it in my head
that it could be you two, I swung by the place to get a peek."
"And you
could tell just by looking," threw in Chance sarcastically.
"No, not
really," said Marc, either oblivious or impervious to the sarcasm.
"But two kats - one small and wiry, and one bigger and stocky - that fit
well enough. Then, a few months later, I see this ad in the paper." Marc
smiled. "How could I not come in and apply?"
"So
you're not looking to...join on?"
Marc sat
quietly for a second before answering. "Mr. Furlong, I like what you guys
do. You kick tail when the Enforcers can't, which appears to be most of the
time. I...support your cause, you might say. So I figure, anything I can do to
help out, y'know? Luckily, you wanted a bookkeeper,
not a pinch-SwatKat. I can do one, but not the
other." He stood up and stretched. "I'll help out you out wherever
you need me to. Just don't go asking me to fly your plane or anything. I can't.
I'm not the hero type. Not that you couldn't tell that just by looking."
He looked up at the clock. "Better get my food...and when I get back, if
it'll make you feel better, I'll let you show me your shiny plane. Deal?"
Chance
thought about getting angry, but decided against it. He smirked. "Deal." He watched him walk out, and shook his
head, thinking, I just don't get this kat. He leaned over and turned the TV
back on, just in time to catch the previews for next week.
Jake came
downstairs, and found Chance already sitting on the counter, sipping coffee
from his Scaredy Cat mug.
"You're
up early," said Chance, kicking his heels lightly against the cabinet.
Jake smirked.
"I forget. Does that make you 'pot' or 'kettle'?" He grabbed his
coffee mug and looked around. "And Marc's not in yet? That's not
good."
"He
never went home." Jake looked up, and Chance went on. "Well, he did.
Like, fifteen minutes ago. He's off to get spiffed up for the auditors."
Jake shook
his head as he poured his coffee. "Nobody should feel less awake than I do
now."
"So, no sleep last night?"
"You
have to ask?"
Chance leaned
closer. "You... doing all right?"
Jake shrugged
as he took his first sip. "I guess. You ever just want the whole mess to
be over?" Chance's eyes opened wider. "You know, you get so tired,
you just want an ending... even if it's not the ending you want. You know what
I'm saying?"
Putting his
mug to the side, Chance regarded his partner for a second. "No."
"You
know, either way, it'll be all over today, and - you know, at this point, I'd
rather they just find out than go through another day like this."
"Are you
crazy?"
"Nah, just tired." Jake threw back the rest of his
coffee, then tossed the mug into the sink. "Did
he finish?"
"I
dunno. I asked him, and he said kinda."
"Kinda?"
"Hey,
I'm just repeating what he said." Chance leapt off the counter. They
headed out towards the garage, but ran into Marc as he was coming in. Chance
let out a chuckle.
"Hey,
check out Mr. What-a-Difference-a-Day-Makes here."
Marc adjusted
his tie. "No harm in trying to impress the top brass, is there?"
"You'll
do better to impress them with the files," Jake said pointedly. "Are
they set?"
"Kinda."
"That's
what Chance said you said. Now tell me what the heck it means."
"It
means kinda," repeated Marc, hotly. "They're as close to being in
order as I could possibly make them. You know what you gave me to work
with."
"And you
knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to take the job,"
answered Jake, just as hotly. "If you couldn't handle it, you should have
said so, and we would have found someone else who could." He pushed by
Marc into the garage, followed by Chance.
In hushed
tones, Chance asked, "Um, Jake, was that such a good idea?"
Jake tore
open the hood of the Chevrolet that they'd been trying to diagnose for the last
week. "Chance, at this point, I'm just getting ideas, and I can't tell
whether they're good or not. So I'm trying them all."
Chance leaned
against the car. "Sounds dangerous."
Jake narrowed
his eyes at his partner. "Since when did you shy away from danger? And if
you're not too busy resting your tail, how about lending a hand here?"
Chance
widened his eyes, but decided not to make a bad situation worse. "Sure thing." Geez, he
thought, as he grabbed his socket wrench. I never thought I'd end up being the
peacemaker of the group.
It was
several hours of non-stop work later that Marc peeked
his head into the garage. "Jake, Chance, you want to step in here,
please?"
They glanced
at each other, then headed to the sink to wash up.
"Do me a
favor, Chance - let me do the talking," said Jake, reaching for the soap.
Chance half-smiled. "Don't worry."
When they
entered the office, Marc introduced them to Lt Aubrey Fellini
and Sgt Michael Sakai, the auditors from the Enforcers. Lt Fellini
stood just an inch or so below Jake, and although Sgt Sakai was about the same
height, he seemed shorter - probably because the lieutenant outranked him.
Although Jake and Chance hadn't met either of them before, both of them felt as
though they had. Even with their limited contact with the Enforcers hierarchy,
Jake and Chance ran into countless numbers of these kats - smartly dressed in
uniform, unfailing polite, and so "by the book" as to make Chance
sick. Jake, on the other hand, had always found them rather amusing. Just not today.
Lt Fellini, as they both expected, didn't waste much time with
pleasantries. "We've pretty much found out what we wanted to know from Mr Greene here." Chance glanced over at Marc quickly,
but he was looking at Lt Fellini with an
undecipherable look on his face. She continued, "However, we do have
several questions for you."
Jake stood a
bit straighter. "What would you like to know, Lieutenant?"
Sgt Sakai
reached over onto the desk, picked up a file, and showed it to Jake.
"There seem to be a lot of purchases under what you categorize as
'Miscellaneous Parts'."
"I'll
take responsibility for that, Sergeant," explained Jake. "Mr Furlong and I tend to work rather long hours in the
garage, which doesn't leave much time for paperwork. We finally hired Mr.
Greene here to take care of it for us a few weeks ago. Up until that time, we
simply tried to get our paperwork done whenever we had a free moment. But when
we actually got around to taking care of our bills, we found invoices for parts
where we sometimes couldn't even recall which vehicle we had purchased it for.
That's why so many of those bills ended up lumped into that category
there."
Lt Fellini tilted her head slightly. "Hm. I guess I could see that." Jake let out his
breath. "But of course, this won't be acceptable next time around."
"Oh,
no," agreed Jake. "Don't worry. Now that Mr
Greene's on board, we should be able to keep on top of it."
"Well,
that's that. There's just one more thing then." She leaned against the
desk and bored a look through Jake. "Why is this place losing so much
money?"
Jake and
Chance looked at each other, then back at Lt Fellini.
Cautiously, Jake hazarded, "I was under the impression that this garage
wasn't designed as a money-making enterprise."
"It
wasn't," agreed Lt Fellini. "But there's a
difference between not really showing a profit, and losing a bundle, which is
what you two are doing." Lt Fellini picked up a
file and fingered through it. "And the money certainly isn't going to your
paychecks, as a goodly portion of those are going to fix the damage you caused
to the Enforcer's building." She looked up. "So where is the money
going?"
Jake gritted
his teeth. "It's not going anywhere," he said, not quite growling.
Lt Fellini put the file down and crossed her arms. "Would
you care to explain?"
"The
money isn't going out because it's never coming in." He suddenly seemed to
make up his mind. "Will you two kindly come with me?" He turned on
his heel and headed back towards the garage. Lt Fellini
and Sgt Sakai came after him, followed closely by Chance and Marc, who both
looked more confused than the other two.
Jake pointed
to the luxury car in the closest bay. "This vehicle is in for a tune-up
and brake job, for which we won't get paid." He pointed to the Mazda.
"This car keeps conking out for no apparent reason. After working for a
week, we may have finally found the problem, and, with any luck, we'll soon
have it fixed, for which we won't get paid." He turned outside and pointed
to the Dodge. "This one just needs an oil change, for which we won't get
paid."
Sgt Sakai
interrupted before Jake could find another car to point at. "What are you
saying?"
"I'm
saying this - we're fixing cars, but we're not going to get paid for any of
them."
"You
personally, you mean," said Lt Fellini.
"Us
personally, yes, and the garage generally."
Again, Lt Fellini crossed her arms. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"I can
explain in one word, Lieutenant - perqs. That Dodge
belongs to a sergeant for the Enforcers. The Mazda belongs to some kid of a
captain. And that smooth baby in bay one is Commander Feral's."
"And
they're not paying for these repairs?"
"Like I said, Lieutenant, perqs. They don't feel the
need to even sign the work order. They just drop them off, tell you what's
wrong with them, and they're gone."
"Why
aren't you filling out invoices and submitting them to their departments?"
demanded Sgt Sakai.
"Tried
that," said Jake shortly.
"And?"
"And nothing. The invoices went out, and they were ignored.
A few wrote back - requesting the signed work order. Usually there was none.
If, by some miracle, there was one, we'd send them a copy. Then they'd claim
they never got it, and request another one." Jake paused for breath.
"Chance and I were spending more time tracking down the deadbeats than we
ever did fixing vehicles. We finally figured, hey, to heck with it - the
money's pretty much staying in the Enforcer organization, anyhow."
"This
needs to stop as of now," demanded Lt Fellini.
"You two are not to perform any work on any vehicle without a signed work
order."
"Fair
enough, Lieutenant. Can you help back it up?"
"Back it
up? How do you mean?"
"Can we
get enough authority here to tell someone with three bars across his shoulders
that we aren't going to change his oil because he hasn't signed the work
order?"
Lt Fellini turned to Sgt Sakai, then back to Jake. "I
don't see any reason why not. You should be able to do that right now."
Jake leaned
against the Chevy. "Whether I should or should not be able to do something
isn't at issue here, Lieutenant. It's whether or not I'm able to. You're an
Enforcer - you should know that."
Chance
winced, and even Marc got a queasy feeling. Jake may have crossed a line with
that last comment.
Lt Fellini leaned in towards him. "I do not need you, Mr.
Jake sighed.
"You're right. I apologize." He looked down. "It... has not been
a good couple of weeks."
Lt Fellini stood up straight. "Well, we'll let it pass
this time. I'll give you a clean audit, with notation of the stipulation that
you'd best clean up your parts orders from here on out. Fair
enough?"
Jake looked
up and smiled. "Lieutenant, that's more than fair. Thank you very
much." They shook hands all around, and Lt Fellini
and Sgt Sakai drove off.
"We did
it!" yelled Chance, offering high fives to Jake and Marc, then turned specifically to Jake. "...despite your
little speech there. And you told me to keep my cool!"
Jake smiled
sheepishly and shrugged.
Marc, who
still looked confused, asked, "Um, how much of that speech was true?"
Chance
shrugged. "Oh, most of it. We lose most of the
money on unpaid invoices, not on the plane and stuff."
"Well,
all's well that ends well, I suppose," said Jake in a tired voice. Then he
smiled. "But party time tonight. Pizza's on me,
gentlemen."
Marc finally
returned the smiles. "So it's OK if I go home and sleep off the last few
weeks?"
Chance
pointed at him. "Consider it an order, Greene. See you tonight -
Wearily, Marc
walked over to his motorcycle, started it up, and gave a wave to Jake and
Chance before riding off into the street. Once he got home, he managed to get
his tie and shoes off before completely succumbing to exhaustion. Curling up on his couch in the living room, he fell asleep
immediately, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
It wasn't
until five that Marc felt rested enough to crawl up into a sitting position. He
took a quick shower, and began getting dressed. Halfway through, he realized he
was putting on his work clothes. I don't think they want to see me in nice
clothes today, he thought, pulling them back off again. Once attired in a more
party-appropriate t-shirt and jeans, he stopped by the kitchen to load a
six-pack of beer into his backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he headed
out, leapt on his motorcycle, and drove off humming to himself.
Upon entering
the garage, he couldn't find any trace of either Jake or Chance. Well, maybe
they were out on a mission. "Hello?" he said, rather loudly. Vaguely,
he heard something coming from upstairs. He dropped his backpack to the floor
as he considered - he never had gone upstairs, figuring that to be their
personal area. But then he wondered - well, maybe the party's up there. He
walked up the stairs and found Jake and Chance in the first room he glanced
into. Chance was sitting on a dresser, head downcast, but Marc was more
surprised at Jake. He was lying on his back on his hammock, arms crossed. Even
Marc could see he'd been crying.
"Um..."
Marc said uncertainly. "Is everything OK?"
Chance
glanced over at him. "Jake's sister called. His ma's in the hospital. Heart attack."
"Geez. I'm sorry, Jake."
Jake nodded slightly, and Marc went on, "Anything I can do?"
Answering for
him, Chance said, "Nah, but thanks. We just gotta figure out what we gotta
do now."
"What do
you mean?"
"Jake's
family lives in Selinda."
"Can't
you just drive down there?"
"Well,
yeah, but I don't know if Jake should be on his own. That's a long drive, and
he's a bit... upset."
Jake felt a bit strange being talked about as if he weren't there,
but he still hadn't mastered himself enough to say anything for himself.
"Can't
you both go down?"
"No way. First off, we're too backed up here.
Secondly, someone's gotta stay with the TurboKat in
case... y'know."
"Oh,
right. Didn't think of that." Marc leaned against
the wall, thinking. "Did you want me to drive you down, Jake?"
Jake looked
over at him, but again it was Chance who answered. "Don't ya have yer other jobs to get to?"
Marc shook
his head. "Not really. I took an extra five days off, in case there were
other things I had to clean up for you guys." This wasn't entirely true. Marc
had actually been looking forward to taking a few days off after the audit, but
it seemed wrong to bring that up. "I still have a few freelance pieces,
but next project isn't due 'til next month."
Chance looked
over at Jake. He really didn't get good vibes from this kat, but he wasn't sure
there was any other option.
Jake sat up
slowly, then rubbed his face and sighed. "I can room and board you, but
can't pay you," he said quietly.
"Sounds more than fair. How long were you...?" Marc
didn't know exactly how to ask that, and Jake of course didn't know the answer.
"Once
I'm down there, you can head back up if you want."
"All
right, cool. Let me go home and get some things. I'll meet you back here in
about... half an hour?" Seeing Jake nod, Marc smiled slightly.
"Great. See ya in a bit." He dashed out the door, and they heard him
fly down the steps.
Chance looked
up at Jake. "You think this is a good idea?"
Jake glanced
up, confused. "What?"
"Hooking
up with him?"
Again
Jake sighed. "It's the only decent idea we came up with. C'mon - help me
pack."
Marc
maneuvered the pick-up onto the highway and settled into the fast lane. Once
there, he stole another glance at Jake, who continued staring out the window
without moving or making a sound. Twice Marc made a move to turn on the radio,
and stopped himself. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask Jake, "You
mind if I turn this on?" Jake glanced over, shrugged slightly, and turned
back to his window. Taking that as tacit approval, Marc turned on the radio,
switching stations 'til he found one he liked. He tapped his fingers on the
steering wheel in time to the song, but soon grew uneasy with Jake sitting
silently beside him. When "Love Me Always" came on, Marc made a
less-than-polite noise with his mouth and switched the radio off.
After a few
seconds in silence, Marc glanced over at Jake again. "Did you want to... talk?"
Jake glanced
back at Marc, then shook his head once.
"No."
"You sure?"
After a
pause, Jake said, "Look, it's a long story."
Marc pointed
at a sign as they passed it. "Selinda - 94
miles", it read. "Looks like we've got time," noted Marc.
"Marc,
no," said Jake, a bit too sharply. Realizing what that must have sounded
like, Jake said, "Sorry. I... look. For the last few years, Chance and I
haven't told anybody anything about anything. For
survival."
"Understood."
"So I
have a hard time just saying, OK, this guy's cool, I can tell him everything. Even if you are."
Shrugging,
Marc said, "That's cool."
"I mean,
heck, I don't know anything about you."
"I don't
have any secrets," said Marc, a bit defensively. "What do you want to
know?"
Jake sighed. "Nothing. I guess. Never mind."
He resumed looking out the window, but soon spoke again. "I guess I should
at least give you the overview. In all your... research, did you find out why
we're at the salvage yard?"
"Yeah. Something about damage to Enforcers
HQ."
"Yeah,
I'm sure the official report said we hot-dogged our
planes into it."
"You
didn't?"
Jake turned
to face Marc, arms crossed. "If we were such hot dogs, would we still have
a TurboKat to fly?"
"Hm. Point taken."
"Chance
an' me had DarkKat in our
sights, and Feral tried to call us off. He wanted the glory for himself, as
usual. We ended up bumping wings, and down we came." Jake grinned,
slightly. "So now we're mechanics, paying off the world's largest
debt."
"Bummer."
"You
bet, bummer. But, y'know, at least they unwittingly
gave us access to the materials and everything to build the TurboKat.
Anyway, my father... Retired
"Ouch."
"Yeah, ouch. Let's just say he wasn't too pleased with our
reassignment. He sort of..."
"Disowned
you?" offered Marc.
"Nnnooo," said Jake, uncertainly. "Not really. But
we don't talk anymore. I talk to my mother and my sister, but all sort of
behind my father's back."
"They're
cool with you being a Swat Kat?"
Jake snorted.
"You kidding? They don't know."
Marc glanced
over at Jake. "What?"
"They'd
be worried sick."
"You
mean, you haven't even told your mother about this?" asked Marc
incredulously.
"Look.
When Chance and me started this, we had no idea who we
could trust, so we decided we weren't going to trust anybody. We figured if our
family didn't know, there was no way they'd be put in jeopardy for knowing. The
last thing we wanted was to have Dark Kat or someone take my mom hostage. So
nobody knows."
Marc stared
at the road for a while and thought. "So the only one who does
know..." he said quietly.
"Is
you," finished Jake. "Congratulations. Feel special?"
After a short
pause, Marc shrugged. "A bit too special," he mumbled.
"What
was that?"
"It's...
see, I never thought of it like... ah, skip it."
"No, what?"
Marc tapped
his fingers on the steering wheel for a minute, trying to organize his
thoughts. "When I saw you guys on TV, kicking monster tail from here to
next Sunday, I thought, you know, cool. I understood what you were doing -
flying under the radar, so to speak, to get something done that really needed
to be done. Curiosity eventually got the best of me, so I did some digging to
find out who you were. But it was just for me, you know? I sort of laughed in
my sleeve, but that's it."
"Never
even told your mother?" said Jake, with a small smirk.
Marc knew a
slam when he heard one, but he was happy Jake was at least talking again.
Glancing over at Jake and smiling, Marc said, "Mom's not a fan of yours.
But I guess that's the way with secrets. For some reason, I feel like I should
be... y'know, like the last person in line for them.
I desperately want to know, but then I feel nobody else should know."
"That's
probably true of lots of kats."
"Yeah, I
guess. So, no, I didn't tell anyone. Anyway, when I saw your want ad, I
thought, hey, here's a way I can help out. I thought about it, and figured
whoever you hired had to be in on it..."
"Exactly."
"And so
I brought that little bit to the table, and now... I dunno. I guessed I thought
you'd be grateful at what I could do."
"We
are," said Jake, a bit miffed.
"Yeah, I
know, but I never really thought about how... I was intruding into your lives. Sort of forcing your confidence. Sorry about that."
Jake sighed.
"Well, like you said, we were going to have to let someone in - may as well be someone who already knew, right?"
"It's
kinda surprising no one else has found out."
"Yeah,
that's what I told Chance."
"Maybe
everyone likes what you do, and they're scared of messing up a good
thing."
"Not
everyone's a Swat Kat fan," Jake pointed out. "You think Dark Kat
would have access to the same information you do, and it's not like he's slow
on the uptake."
"Hm." Marc considered this
information for a minute. "Well, I'd like to think this makes me smarter
than him. But I guess all you can do is hope he doesn't come a-knockin'."
"Well,
just so you know why it looks like we're not getting a lot of sleep."
They sat in
silence for a minute, then Marc hazarded starting the
conversation again. "So, just your parents and your
sister. She younger than you?"
Jake shook
his head. "Older. Got an older brother, too -
"Oh?"
"He sort
of... well, it's hard to explain. My father never exactly told us that he
expected both his sons to become Enforcers, but the idea was still sort of... there.
Unspoken, y'know? But
Jake paused,
and Marc hazarded, "Disappointed?"
"Well, I
guess. He didn't exactly say, 'You should have been an Enforcer', but he was
never really all that impressed with what
"You
mean, you joined the Enforcers just because your
father wanted you to?"
"Oh, heck, no. I always wanted to be an Enforcer. Chance and
me... heck, we were playing Enforcers in our backyards ever since I can
remember." Jake paused, thinking of the wooden "guns" he and
Chance had made way back when. "But once we got kicked out, my father sort
of transferred his allegiance over toward
"It's
not a race," pointed out Marc.
"It is
to him."
"Is your
sister married?"
"Kate? Nah. She should be, though - she'll make someone a kick-ass
wife." Jake smiled a bit for the first time since that afternoon. "You seeing anyone?"
Marc looked
uncomfortable. "Um, kinda."
Jake glanced
over at him. He really doubted that last statement was true, but he decided to
let him have his little fantasy.
Marc pulled
up in front of the
Marc shot a
strange look over to Jake. "You know, most kats are more polite with
strangers in their midst."
It took Jake
a second to understand what Marc was talking about, then
he had to consider whether it was a good idea. Finally, he nodded once, and
finished getting out of the truck. He waited for Marc to join him on the
sidewalk, then began the long trek up the front walk.
When they reached the door, Jake drew in his breath, then
rang the bell. Marc looked at the nervous kat next to him. This was the guy who
took on Dark Kat once a week?
The door
opened, and a medium-sized brown kat in a shirt and tie looked out. He glanced
over at Marc uncertainly, then over at Jake, at which point he smiled a rather
unpleasant smile.
"Hello,
"Jake.
Lose your job at the dump?"
Jake was
determined not to let his composure slip in front of Marc. "No,
still there. This is Marc, our bookkeeper." Marc held out his hand,
and
"Y-yeah,
but I'm not sure she wants to see you."
"Well,
let's just find out." He sort of pushed his way past
"Jake!"
Kate spotted her younger brother before
"It took
a little doing, but it all worked out," said Jake, smiling a bit. His
smile dropped as the door to the kitchen opened and Col Clawson walked out.
Marc was somewhat surprised. For some reason, he was expecting a small, wizened
old kat. Instead, Col Clawson towered over everyone else in the house, despite
stooping slightly and using a large aluminum cane. He was dressed immaculately,
and frowned upon seeing his youngest son there in his living room.
"Jacob,"
Col Clawson said authoritatively. Jake stood up straighter and looked over at
his father, who went on, "Why are you here?"
"Kate
told me what had happened, sir," said Jake simply.
"It was
unnecessary for you to come," said Col Clawson.
Jake said,
uncertainly, "I just wanted to see her - make sure she's all right."
"I
believe we are more than capable of seeing to her well-being. In fact, seeing
you will probably simply upset her." Jake started to speak again, but Col
Clawson immediately began speaking again. "After all, your post is back in
Jake stared
at his father for a few seconds, then, to Marc's surprise, let his shoulders
drop. "You're right, sir. As usual. I'm sorry -
I'll head back." He turned back to Kate and said, "Good to see you
again," and gave her another long hug. Jake nodded to
After
shepherding Marc out the door and closing it behind them, Jake marched over to
the driver side door of the pickup. He held up his hand, and Marc pulled out
the keys, preparing to toss them over. "Um, you OK to drive?" he
asked hesitantly.
"Pretty
sure," said Jake. Marc unlocked his door, then
tossed the keys to Jake. Once Jake got in the truck, he smirked a bit. "I
should be fine. We're not going that far, anyway."
"We're
not?"
"Just to a hotel back by the highway." Jake started the
truck and drove back out into the street. "We'll head back in the morning.
After I see my Ma."
"Oh."
Marc looked out the window, trying to process this. Finally he asked,
"Aren't you... worried that maybe your father will be there when you
visit?
"He
won't be. He has his big weekly staff meeting tomorrow morning, and he hasn't
missed that in twenty years."
"Oh,"
said Marc again, and again Marc let that sink in before going on. "So, are
you gonna call around to find out which hospital she's in?"
"She's
at St Gertrude's."
"How do
you know?"
"Kate
told me while I was hugging her goodbye."
Marc smiled. "Didn't know you
Jake smirked
back. "Unexpected benefit of having a military
family."
Marc flipped through the long-outdated Sportsweek
and yawned. It hadn't been a good night. His longish nap the previous day,
sleeping in an unfamiliar hotel room, sharing a room with his boss - all of
these had conspired to keep Marc tossing and turning through the night. As he
resignedly began reading about the Catamounts' latest draft picks, he hoped
Jake wouldn't be too long with his mother. He was looking forward to the drive
back, and the possibility of perhaps dozing in the passenger seat on the trip.
"You!"
Marc looked
up and spied who was speaking. He put the magazine aside, got up and said,
"Hi. Leon, right?"
"Yeah,"
admitted Marc.
"I can't
believe it. After what Dad said to him?"
Marc didn't
really feel like putting himself in the middle of a family squabble, but he did
feel a slight sense of duty to his employer. "Well, she is his
mother. Why wouldn't he want to see her?"
Again, Marc
hesitated before speaking, but finally, loyalty won out. "Well," he
began, a bit hesitantly. "Jake sort of filled me in. And it kind of sounds
like you're the one that doesn't understand."
"What
are you talking about?"
"
"Of course. He said that one of the only positive things
to come out of the plane crash was that finally your father started
appreciating all the things you've done." Marc paused for a second to let
that sink in, then went on. "Look, I don't know Jake
all that well. But so far, he seems like a great kat. I'd hate to think you're
shutting him out just because your father is playing favorites."
"Well,
that's all good and fine, but..."
Marc quickly
found an exit. "I'm... gonna get some coffee. You want any?" Both
Jake and Leon shook their heads, and Marc scurried down the hall, leaving Jake
and Leon staring at each other.
"So you
came anyway," said
Jake nodded.
"Well, I... don't always do what Dad says, y'know."
"Real weak. But OK, I think."
"She's
probably worn out."
"
"I know.
But I can wait." He sat down in the chair Marc had vacated, looked up at
Jake, then looked down at the floor. "Um, if Dad
asks, I didn't see you here."
Jake, a bit
surprised, took a bit of time to say, "Thanks." While trying to
decide what else to say, he heard - and felt - a buzzing coming from his hip.
He pulled his phone from his belt and read the page. "911" read the
display, and he frowned. SwatKat emergency.
"What is
it?" asked
Jake groaned,
"Problem at home. I gotta motor. Look, keep an eye on Ma for me, K? And
you'll...?"
"Thanks."
Jake shot his brother a smile, then took off at a sprint down the hallway.
Marc tried not to guess how fast Jake was driving, and he willed
himself not to look over towards the speedometer. "There's no way you can
get back to
Jake, his
eyes on the road, murmured, "No need to. T-Bone's gonna pick me up."
Marc's
eyebrows went up. He had never heard Jake refer to his partner as
"T-Bone" before. "Where?"
"This old farm out in the middle of nowhere. It's about a mile off
the highway - no one lives there anymore."
"Oh."
After a pause, Marc asked, "How was your mother doing?"
"Worn out, but OK." Jake weaved around a semi, then went on. "She'll probably be in the hospital
another few days, and in bed for a bit longer, but
other than that..."
"Well,
that's good."
"Yeah." Jake maneuvered the truck off the highway and
began driving away from civilization.
"So
how's this going to work?" asked Marc.
"T-Bone's
bringing along my flight suit. I'll do a quick change, then
off we'll go."
"And
I... drive back to the yard?"
"Right."
"OK,
gotcha."
"Sorry,"
murmured Jake. "I keep thinking you know how everything works."
Marc
shrugged, a bit ashamed. "I'm working on it."
Jake drove up
to an old barn just as the TurboKat pulled up over
the northern horizon. Jake skidded the truck to a
halt, and quickly leapt out. The plane came to a landing in a fallow field, and
Jake immediately leapt up and began throwing on his flightsuit.
In about fifteen seconds, Razor was ready. He slapped a control, and the
cockpit closed. The TurboKat lifted up slowly, then turned slightly. Razor gave Marc a small wave just
before the plane shot off to the north. Marc got in behind the wheel of the
truck, but then stopped and watched the vapor trails dissipate for a minute.
Finally, Marc shook his head, smiled and started the truck, hoping he could remember
the way back to the highway.