Author:
Nestra
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Date Posted: 19:47:01 11/25/02 Mon
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You know, freedom's just a stupid superstition
'Cause life's a highway that you travel blind
-- Jim White
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Lilah strolled into my office the next morning, and before I even looked up at her, I could tell she was gloating. Hard. Nathan had obviously informed her of my reassignment, and she'd come to have some fun at my expense.
"So how's the local psychic population? Are you busy passing out your business card at job fairs and high schools?"
"Don't you have anything better to do, Lilah?"
She smiled and arched a plucked eyebrow at me. "I guess I do, considering that Nathan's handed me total control of the Angel project."
"And I'm sure you'll do a bang-up job," I replied. "Or maybe you'll demonstrate your total incompetence and lack of imagination."
She came around my desk and leaned against nonchalantly against the edge. "Imagination? Sex in an elevator isn't very imaginative, Lindsey. In fact, I'd say it's quite a cliche'. 'Oh, fuck me, Angel. Touch me, Angel. Harder, Angel. I need you so much, Angel.' That was quite a show the two of you put on."
I had to grit my teeth before I could reply, and the memory of last night's conversation with Angel didn't make it any easier. "If I'd known you were gonna be getting off on it, I'd have made sure the camera got my good side."
A throaty chuckle slipped out of her. "Oh, I saw quite enough. I'm surprised you could even walk yesterday. But I guess with enough practice, you can get used to anything."
"What do you want, Lilah? Measurements? Isn't that taking voyeurism a little too far? Or are you just upset that Angel wouldn't look twice at you?"
"I don't want anything from you, Lindsey. Believe me. And you want to know what's even better?" Her eyes glittered with malicious glee. "There's nothing you could give me. Not any more. After that little stunt you pulled, I'm just surprised that Nathan left all of your body parts intact." She chuckled again, amused by her own cleverness. "All of your body parts that don't already belong to Angel."
"So you're really just in here to gloat?"
"Gloat, mock, celebrate your humiliating demotion. Take your pick."
Boy, she was really enjoying herself. That meant that she'd lowered her guard, too busy laughing at me to really consider what she was saying. I'd be a fool not to exploit this opportunity and try to find out her plans. I told myself that my desire to know had nothing to do with Angel. Nothing. It was just a question of professional curiosity. Plus, I could never pass up a chance to score some points against Lilah.
"How about you leave and let me get back to work? Unless you need my help, of course. Go ahead, Lilah. Fill me in on all the details, and I'll tell you what you need to do next."
The insult got to her. "Oh, are you feeling left out? It must kill you, being out of the loop like this."
I shrugged. "I'll survive. Which is more than I can say for you. You've placed yourself in a pretty dangerous position. Angel's been pretty grumpy these days, and he'd probably kill you just to shut you up. Unless Darla and Drusilla get there first."
She leaned down close enough that I could feel her breath brush over my face. "Your days here are numbered, Lindsey. You went too far, and you got caught. And I can't wait to see them string you up for it."
Her attempt at intimidation almost made me laugh, but I didn't want to break the mood. I just leaned back in my chair and smiled at her.
"You know what? I played out this whole scene with Darla yesterday, so I'm really getting kind of bored with the threats. Unless you have something new to say, I think we're done here. All I have to do is wait for Angel to take you apart, and then there won't be any more of this co-vice president bullshit."
"You're right," she said, still leaning over me. "No more co-vice presidents. But you're the one who'll be gone, Lindsey, not me. Everyone's got a weakness, and Angel's no different."
I kept on smiling, knowing that she didn't have a clue what she'd just done. "Bye-bye, Lilah. Make sure to shut the door on your way out."
I could tell she was dying to get the last word, but it just wasn't gonna happen this time. But she left the door open just to be petty. I hardly even noticed, as I tried to figure out what she'd meant by that piece of information she'd let slip. *Everyone's got a weakness, and Angel's no different.*
Lilah's sense of insecurity had always been the key to manipulating her. Once I'd suggested that she couldn't handle Angel, she'd overcompensated to prove that she could. But what had she meant? What was Angel's weakness? I thought about it for a few minutes, running possibilities through my head, but there were just too many variables. I needed more information.
I picked up the phone and dialed Steve Strassman's extension. "Steve," I said when he picked up. "It's Lindsey. You wanna go grab a drink after work?"
We made plans to meet at Chances, a bar not too far from the office, and hung up. I spent the rest of the day following up leads on telepaths and trying not to lose my mind from sheer boredom. As inconvenient as it was when Angel was trying to kill me, at least it kept things interesting.
When I arrived at six o'clock, Chances was packed with a typical Friday evening crowd. The noise level made it difficult to hear, but that meant that Steve and I would have a good chance of talking without anyone eavesdropping. I spotted him at a table not far from the door, already halfway through a double shot of something. I dropped into a chair next to him and reached up to loosen my tie.
"Started without me?" I motioned a waitress over and ordered a scotch.
Steve shook his head. "Hell, yes. Harrington threatened me twice today with dismemberment. And I know he meant it literally."
"Yeah, well, I'm not Nathan Reed's favorite person right now, either."
With a quick motion, he tossed back the rest of his drink. "I know. There's a pool going in Contracts to see how long it'll take him try and have you killed. Smart money's on eight days from now."
"You mean *your* money's on eight days from now."
He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Yeah," he said, tapping one out. "Got any inside info? I'll cut you in on the take if you survive."
Smug bastard. "You ought to know better than to bet against me, Steve."
He lit his cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled. The smoke didn't travel far. "Actually, I do. That's why I'm here, talking to you, even though you're on Reed's shit list. What do you need?"
"Lilah's up to her neck in something. Something involving Angel, the vampire. I need to know what it is."
He didn't answer for a while. I listened to the people around us, only able to catch snatches of conversation. A shrill-voiced woman debating the merits of plastic surgery with her friends. Several guys trying to pick up uninterested women. 401ks, stock options, IRAs. The Dodgers' prospects for the upcoming season. It was all very normal, and it made me feel suddenly tired.
I nudged Steve with my foot. "Any day now."
He'd smoked his cigarette down to a stub; he dropped it in the ashtray and put his elbows on the table, leaning in towards me. "What do I get out of this?"
I thought about it for a minute, but one of us had to go first, and the scotch wasn't good enough to tempt me into staying any longer than I had to. "If you can get your hands on certain prescription records, you might find out that Lilah's not exactly the poster girl for just saying no."
He let out a low whistle. "Really?"
"Yeah. Darvoset, Percodan, and Vicodin. Her holy trinity."
"I probably know some people who'd be interested in that bit of information."
"You probably do," I agreed. "Your turn."
"The latest word from Accounting is that Lilah's hired a group of three supernatural mercenaries. The kind that specialize in finding people and doing ugly things to them."
I took a second to digest this and think about who the potential targets might be. "Any idea when or where this is supposed to happen?"
Steve shrugged. "It could go down any day. That's all I've got, man, and I don't think I want to know any more. You Special Projects people take things too seriously."
I believed him. People rarely take sides at Wolfram and Hart, at least not openly. He'd trade gossip, but he certainly wasn't prepared to ally himself with me. And ultimately, it didn't matter, because there wasn't a damn thing he could do for me anyway.
"All right," I said, stretching my hand out to shake his. "Thanks for the tip."
"You too." He stood up, pulled out his wallet, and tossed a few bills onto the table. "See you around."
I sat there for a while after he'd left, nursing my scotch and thinking. Lilah planned to exploit Angel's weakness, and she'd hired mercenaries to do it, somehow. I just had to figure out who the targets were. And as I thought about it, the answer became obvious. After all, Angel only had a few people he really cared about, and despite the fact that he'd gone a little crazy lately, I didn't think he was capable of simply cutting off his feelings for them. The question was, what did I do with this information?
Bare minimum, I had two choices. Do something, or sit back and wait. If I decided to do something, I had several ways I could go about it. Try to contact Angel. Right, because our last couple meetings had gone so well. I could press Steve for more information and contact the mercenaries directly, but that probably involved more personal danger than I was really comfortable with, and the results would be extremely uncertain. Or I could contact the targets directly and try to warn them without getting directly involved. Drawbacks? My bosses could easily find out and have me killed.
And then there was Door Number Two, which involved waiting for things to go down. The disadvantages to that plan: if everything worked out, Lilah would get a lot of credit, and I'd definitely be out of a job, and possibly a life. Even if it didn't work, Angel would find out about it, and he'd probably blame me. I was getting pretty damn tired of Angel blaming me every time he stubbed his toe.
And if Lilah's plan worked, three innocent people would die. I couldn't make my decision based only on that, but it did matter. It had started mattering more and more since I came face to face with death in Holland's wine cellar.
"Hi."
I looked up at the woman standing next to my table. Blonde. Pretty, but wearing too much makeup. Smiling, trying to look enticing and mysterious instead of eager.
"Can I buy you another drink?" she asked. "Unless…you're waiting for someone." The smile faltered a little bit when I didn't immediately answer her.
Without much effort, I could remember a time when I would have let her buy me a drink. I'd done this whole routine before, sitting at a table in a faceless bar, making small talk about our careers and the L.A. traffic, both just biding our time until we could slip off somewhere and have sex without looking too desperate, too needy.
Uncomplicated relationships. Unfortunately, there wasn't room in my life for uncomplicated things any more.
I stood up and reached inside my pocket for my car keys. "Sorry," I said. "I've got things to do." Weaving my way through the bodies packed into the bar, I headed for the door.
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