5. Daze

FIVE

DAZE

"Ben, tell me again how being here is smart and not a fucking waste of time," I mutter under my breath to the man crouched beside me behind an overgrown hedge bush. There's a plastic gnome nearby, bathed in the orange glow of sunset. Its goofy grin seems mocking. I bet that happy bastard thinks I'm an idiot.

So do I.

"You're being smart," Ben counters while juggling a pair of binoculars with one hand. "Or at least, I thought so before we were kneeling in fucking dirt for two goddamn hours. Now I think you may or may not be a dumbass. The jury's still out."

"Fuck," I hiss, though my voice doesn't rise above a whisper. "Frey's stuck with those monsters, enduring God knows what, and we're here. Watching her daddy play fucking tea party. Unless his wife is secretly a cartel goon, I doubt she's the one he answers to."

"That's a negative," Marco replies without missing a beat. He's positioned further back, serving as a lookout. So far, he's been quiet and unobtrusive, but I can see his gaze even in the dark. He's watching things closely, missing nothing.

This empty house near the Heywood mansion provides a good vantage point to observe them, but it's still a distance away. From here, we only have a view of the west end of the house, and precisely one dining room window. Even so, being that it's out of range from the guards milling around the property, this place makes for the perfect staging area for what should have been a tense fucking stakeout that would lead to answers and make Frey proud.

Instead, we're already past the main course, and only Heywood and his wife are seated at the table. Judging from the stiff but steady way they eat, I doubt they're expecting any guests. Still, I have a whole new appreciation for Frey, just getting a glimpse of the environment she had to tolerate.

Her father is a bastard. Watching the prick incites a rage that I haven't felt since he tried to put me in prison. Even from here, I can sense his cold hatred. The poor woman beside him is cowering in his wake. When I think of Frey in close proximity to this man, my blood boils.

But I can't do a damn thing about any of it.

"That's it. I'm going to the church." I start to inch back. "Fuck this. I can meet up there with Kane. Frey needs me more than this bullshit?—"

"Wait." Ben reaches out for my arm, but I shake him off.

"No. Enough playing babysitter?—"

"Will you just wait? Look!"

I turn back to the house and find Heywood and his wife still seated at the dining table. "What? Just admit it, Ben. You like being a fucking voyeur?—"

"Look at the road," Marco pitches in. He's drawn closer, his eyes fixed straight ahead. "There."

He's pointing to the lifeline running through the heart of this gated community, where headlights pierce the darkness. Instantly, I shut my mouth. "Son of a bitch." I drop down next to Ben, knocking over our gnome sidekick in the process.

Someone's arriving, alright. From here, I can't be completely sure, but they don't seem to be Silas. In fact, the figure surrounded by police cars is the last person I'd suspect would be meeting with Heywood.

"That's the police commissioner," Marco remarks, crouching beside me. "I know that face. He did all kinds of dealings with Cortez. Usually making sure the police stayed out of his way."

"Doesn't look like he's on duty, that's for damn sure," Ben remarks beside me. "What could he want with Heywood?"

"Don't know," I hiss. "Doesn't look like he's here to bust the bastard for kidnapping either. I wish we could hear what they're saying."

"Speak of the fucking devil, and he shall appear." A figure dressed in all black vaults over the hedge bush just feet away. I tense, readying for a fight. Then I recognize the figure's crazy-ass grin and gleaming green eyes. "Did you miss me?" Damien pulls himself upright and withdraws something from his pocket. "You can thank Lex for this. He planted a bug on the outside of the window before we arrived. He said he nearly got his head blown off in the process, so this better be worth it."

"Did you check out how many guards he has on him?"

"Too many to take on with the four of us," he replies with a shrug. Then, he extends the tiny device on the palm of his hand. "Now shut the fuck up, and let's see what the bastard is really up to."

"How do you work this thing?" Marco wonders.

"Well, turn it on for starters," Damien explains. "Now you just twist that little dial until—yeah, we should hear something through it now. Just wait."

Amid a rustling of static, I can barely make out the tinkling of silverware. Heywood and his wife have finished eating, and she's gathering the dishes at full speed. Their apparent guest hasn't even entered the house and it's like the entire mood has changed. The wife is edgy, practically racing around the room to clear the table amid the thud of what must be plates. Heywood, however, remains seated, watching her work. They don't trade a single word, making it hard to know if the bug is working or not. At least until a new figure says, "The commissioner has arrived, sir."

"Good." Finally, Heywood rises to his feet and moves out of range of the window. "Show him in."

Heywood's wife keeps fiddling with something at her place setting, picking it up. Setting it down. Finally, she sighs.

"Michael, I know you're upset with Frances, but do you really think she should stay there all night? Would it be so bad to let her stay in her old room? I could watch her?—"

"Enough," Heywood snaps, rendering her silent. "Don't make a scene before our guests."

As he speaks, more people enter the room, but I can only make out shuffling sounds and terse greetings. The guest of honor chooses to sit just out of view of the window, preventing a clear shot with either the binoculars or a camera.

"Smart fucker," I mutter under my breath. "This isn't their first rodeo."

"No, it isn't," Marco agrees. "This whole setup has the air of a high-stakes meeting. Done out in the open but with coded words and shit, so nothing can be proven. Yeah, the cops can say that you two met, but they can't confirm that anything was discussed other than wedding plans and kids. They just didn't realize that ‘plans' was code for gun smuggling."

"I'm sure my old man used that trick once or twice in his day," I say coldly. "I wonder what code words Heywood uses."

"Well, let's hope we can find out," Ben says. Suddenly he cocks his head and gestures to the bug.

"Good evening," Heywood says, "I'm surprised you could stop by on such short notice."

I instantly react to the ice in his tone. This isn't a happy little meeting, it seems. No. The tension is so thick I could slice it with one of those fancy butter knives.

"Yes, well, I've been keeping abreast of your election, and I wanted to touch base with the man at the center of such chaos. You've been a busy man, Heywood."

"That doesn't sound very friendly," Ben whispers.

I nod, still listening.

Despite the obvious hostility, the next few minutes pass in relative polite monotony. Boring, basic bullshit that could be the poorly-written script of some shitty sitcom rather than anything a normal couple would talk about.

Again, this whole mess is starting to feel like a waste of time.

"Daze!" Ben rams my shoulder, snapping me out of the murderous fantasy. "You hear that?"

"What?" I focus back on the receiver. Heywood and his visitor are still talking, but the mood has decidedly changed.

"…arrangements have been made, I hope."

"Yes," Heywood replies. "When I am elected, we can commence with the plan immediately."

"Good," the visitor replies. "With emergency powers, we can cleanse this city with hellfire and start anew."

"There is one problem," Heywood adds. "My daughter. She's proven difficult?—"

"Ah, but you need her to provide the proper collateral," the man replies. "Without that money, our agreement can't be fulfilled, I'm afraid. You'll have to find another disaster to take advantage of."

Another disaster? I look at Ben and see him frown, picking up on the phrasing as well.

"I don't expect this to delay anything," Heywood clarifies. "I merely meant to inform you that there will be an accelerated timeline. The wedding will happen sooner than expected."

"Oh?"

"Tomorrow night," Heywood replies. "I hope you will attend."

"Don't," Ben hisses, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Belatedly, I realize that he did it to keep me from lurching to my feet. Somehow, I keep my head down.

"Of course," the man replies. "I wouldn't miss it. The dawn of a new era is one that cannot be overlooked. I see it as a good omen for what we have planned for the city as a whole. I'm looking forward to it."

They trade more dry-as-hell conversation, and then the visitor leaves.

"Well, that was interesting," Marco says. "Looks like their code words are a bit more vague than ours."

"Fuck that. You heard what the bastard said. You're crazy if you think I'm going to sit here and let that wedding happen."

"I don't expect you to, Day. But I do want you to think. Think things through. They're counting on you making an ass of yourself by jumping the gun. You proved them wrong tonight. That was good. You need to keep your head high. Don't get distracted now. Let's come up with a plan."

"Fine." He's right, as much as it stings to admit. "But if you think I'm going to sit by and let Frey marry that bastard, you have another thing coming."

"Oh, I don't think you should sit by at all," Damien says with a dangerous laugh. He licks his lips, eyeing the Heywood mansion. "In fact, I think we should get a few suits and shit ready. It looks like we have a fancy shindig to crash."

"Hell yes," I say in a rush. "I couldn't agree more."