Chapter 13
Storm
Skippy had brought Gears to me when I was in the clubhouse over the weekend, and they told me Mason wanted to talk to me. Privately.
I vacillated back and forth on whether to tell Magnum about it. On the one hand, he doesn’t need to know the details of my workdays, but on the other hand, this was the biological brother of one of his MC brothers, so he’d feel I should tell him.
But I worried he’d want to come, and Gears had been clear that his brother wanted to talk to the reporter who gave his family a voice without anyone else around.
So I didn’t tell him. If Skippy and Gears thought it was safe for me to talk to him alone, that was enough for me.
I already knew Mason was still having trouble fitting into society. He’d liked the strict schedule of fight training, knowing exactly what would happen and when, every minute of the day.
I could relate to that.
And yet, Magnum had told me the fights themselves… Mason worried about what they’d done to his already bad karma.
We met at a local park, and he insisted on bringing breakfast.
“I took the morning off work,” he told me while he set the plates and food out on a picnic table.
“My therapist has me doing these little exercises and tasks a half-day a week. Volunteering to help others, talking to the people held captive with me, or sometimes just doing something new, like taking a painting class, or a martial arts class. A few weeks ago, she had me research what it takes to be a victim’s advocate, and it turns out, I’m kind of on my way there.
It wouldn’t take a whole lot to get certified, if I want to change jobs. ”
“Do you want to change jobs? Magnum says you’re working for the club’s construction company now, and he feels like it’s keeping you physically active, and that this is important for you.”
He shrugged. “I mean, if I get a mental job, I can work out in the evenings. It’s a matter of what’s most fulfilling, right?
I’m not sure victim’s advocate is a good choice for me, though.
” He met my gaze. “Once I’d killed the first two or three really bad people, I’m not sure I’d get away with it the fourth time.
Detectives look for patterns, so even the perfect murder will have flaws once so many people go dead on cases I’m involved with. ”
“Luckily, I’m not an expert at killing people,” I told him, “or it’s possible I couldn’t do my job. So yeah, I get that.”
He smiled. “But you found people who could help you solve an impossible case. Skippy tells me you told them you were okay with most of the morally grey stuff, like hacking into personal information, but you wanted to avoid things like torture and murder if possible. Not that you wouldn’t be part of it, but you’d rather find other options, when possible. ”
I nodded. “That’s accurate, though obviously not something I’d say outside of a trusted group of people.”
“When did humans get this idea that it’s wrong to be judge and jury over truly evil people?” he asked.
“I mean, I think we’re still figuring this whole society thing out.
The law says murder is bad, and then someone decided that meant no more death penalty, and…
” I shrugged. “I’m not a legal expert, but I can still see where the legal logic ends up being at odds with common sense.
I can see where things went wrong, but I can’t explain where to fix it.
Bottom line, the experts tell us vigilantism has more of a chance of getting things wrong than the legal system.
I’m not sure that’s as accurate as they want us to believe, but I don’t have the hard data to prove it. ”
He nodded. “My brother, sister, and aunt tell me you fucking care. You weren’t just chasing the story.”
“Chasing the story is my job, but I chose this job because I care about people, and I want to give the stories that matter more attention. I think the current media is bought and paid for, and they only talk about what their political ideologies push. Real people are getting lost in the politics.”
He’d brought huge omelets loaded with sausage, spinach, mushrooms, and cheese. Also, lots of bacon on the side. Like maybe three pounds of it. There were also perfect waffles, already melted butter to pour over them, and actual honey to drizzle on them. Really good honey.
“You made all this?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Borrowed Gears’ kitchen. His food storage stuff, too. Needed the insulation to keep everything hot.”
“Thank you. This is really, really good.”
He’d even brought real dishes and actual silverware.
“I wanted to personally thank you for… everything, I guess.” He took a breath.
“I thought I wanted to be a bodyguard, but Ember explained it’s more about avoiding conflict than actually using violence to protect people.
If circumstances require you to physically protect your person, you’ve failed.
The goal is to keep them completely away from the bad people to start with.
” He smiled. “And I’d make a really bad cop.
I’d end up in jail before the bad guys.”
“My dad’s a detective, and yeah, it’s hard to be the good guy, sometimes. Bad guys don’t follow the rules by definition, but the good guys do. Kind of puts him at a disadvantage from the get-go.”
I had a feeling this was more about him thanking me with breakfast, and the reporter in me had to dig. It’s who I am.
“Is there anything we did wrong? The way we went in to get all of you, and then the plan to take care of you in the immediate aftermath, then the longer-term plans?”
He shrugged. “Nothing’s perfect for everyone.
Also, Gears had me with him right off the bat.
No one else had family for… days, I think.
Couldn’t be helped, though. Best way to keep us all safe was to hide us until the coast was clear, and a big part of that was on your shoulders, which is another thing to thank you for.
You risked going to jail, being the public face of what happened. ”
“I’ve gone to jail for stories before. I’m not a super-bad-ass, but I can handle myself okay.
It’s a combination of being nice and not being nice, staying mostly-safe behind bars.
” My turn to shrug. “And, I mean, I got several more stories out of my time behind bars, both times. Just telling my experience got millions of views, and I met interesting people with stories that deserved telling, too. Honestly? I figure the powers-that-be probably want to avoid a repeat of that. It isn’t a guarantee they won’t lock me up again, but I think it leans in my favor. ”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Gears didn’t tell me that part.”
I smiled. “It’s possible I didn’t mention it. It’s just a theory, and not something I’m willing to bank on. I still wanted to walk into the FBI’s offices with the best attorney I could manage.”
“I’m good at killing people, but the government taught me way more than that — a whole host of things you need to know before they can send you out with a name and a picture of someone they want permanently deleted.
I can walk around a city without being noticed, I have multiple ways to listen to people from a distance, and more.
If you need someone to go places with you, or to help you gather data, I think I could help you. ”
I sat back and looked at him. “Same problem as the victim’s advocate thing though, right? You discover this pedophile is probably not going to see jailtime, what are you going to do?”
“That’s why I’m offering my services to you, because I think I can trust you to bring the bastard’s actions into the light of day, so everyone knows what he’s done.
So parents can keep their kids from him, and schools won’t hire him.
Anyone who looks his name up will see what you’ve said about him.
Even free, his life will suck, and possibly suck more than the escape of any death I’d give him. ”
Time to change the subject, because I was going to need to think on that one. “Skippy tells me you’re living in a tent behind the construction company?”
He shrugged. “It won’t be forever, but… balance, right?
So much time living in boxes while I was in the fight ring, I just can’t do it right now.
It works because there’s a mini-kitchen in the breakroom I can use, and a bathroom with a shower.
If I want to cook a big meal, I can always use one of my siblings’ kitchens.
Also, for really big storms, Mad Dog turned one of the offices into a sitting room with a bed, for me.
I like normal storms, they relax me, but sixty-mile-an-hour winds don’t work great with even really sturdy tents. ”
“What about getting your own place, and having a screened-in porch you can sleep in when you need to be outside?”
“Yeah, my therapist has suggested that, too. I’m actually making pretty good money right now, and I’m saving a ton of it.
In another year and a half, I should be able to buy a couple of acres of land and build a small house on it.
Like, eight hundred square feet of house with a four hundred square foot porch – half screened and half not. ”
“That sounds like a really good plan,” I told him.
“I have another offer, kind of a job offer, and it would include room and board. I’m considering it, but…” A shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He shook his head and abruptly changed the subject. “My brother tells me he’s pretty sure you’re in a power exchange relationship with Magnum?”
I work hard to report on stories and not be the story, and that means I don’t discuss my private life with anyone except friends.
“Is there a reason you feel my sex life should be part of our talk?”
He stared at me a few long seconds. He sat back, leaned forward, and sat back again.
“Forget I asked. Change of topic. I’m on a quest to fix my karma. To do good things that will balance out all the bad I’ve done. I learned things about my captors that I don’t think you’ve figured out. Things that will make the public even more outraged, probably.”
He pulled a USB drive from his pocket and put it on the table.
“You’re welcome to share anything on that drive in any way you wish, but I want you to call me Robert and say I was taken from New York, simply because they took more men from there than any other place.
Statistically, it’ll be harder for them to focus on any one person.
I’ve put as much as I can remember about the way they broke me at the start in narrative form on the drive, as well as facts I learned by overhearing conversations and by just…
I mean, I’m a good judge of character. Being in lots of life-and-death situations teaches you how to read people like nothing else. ”
“I’d really like your version of… a day in the life, right?
From waking one morning until waking the next.
And, if I can get it, a normal day when not at the fight property, and then how an entire fight weekend, from arrival to leaving would go, if it isn’t too much to ask, and it might be, asking you to remember it in enough detail to write down. ”
“You have the fight weekend breakdown. Give me a week or two, and I’ll send you the other, through my brother.”
“Thank you. Can you give me some time to consider your offer? There are times I walk into sketchy situations. I carry pepper spray and a nine millimeter, so I have both a lethal and non-lethal option. I’m also pretty good at physical self-defense.
I like to think I can take care of myself, and so far, I’ve managed okay.
Still, you aren’t just offering safety, but help in gaining information through sneaky means. ”
“I have some knowledge of Redstone Arsenal,” he said, his diction slower than it’d been at any time in the conversation.
“Classified stuff I don’t feel comfortable sharing for reasons of actual national security, and yet, if I was with you and could see a reason for you to know something specific, I could find a way to guide you to the right people or buildings or… whatever.”
“If you go with me as my security or assistant, it’ll be common knowledge you helped. You run the risk of getting into trouble for helping me, if you’re walking around with me.”
He smiled. “The angle you’re using? Just wanting to know the facts of this woman’s disappearance?
If they bring me into that, in any way, and that includes disappearing me, they risk way more information about her coming to light than they’ll be comfortable with.
You may not want to bank on them avoiding the prison thing with you, but I’ll bank on this for me, any day of any week. ”
“I could never get a good handle on your military career,” I noted. “Most of it’s classified.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
Later in the day, I had to get a tissue to blow my nose and wipe my tears while reading through his experience.
I’d be able to publish it in my book, but I literally couldn’t report most of it on YouTube, because they’d made Mason into a sexual submissive — specific, tear-him-down-and-recreate-him training to turn him into exactly what they wanted and needed him to be, and I wished I hadn’t shut him down when he’d asked about power exchange.
Shit.
Over dinner, I had a long conversation with Magnum about my talk with Mason, and a sketch of the things on the USB he’d handed me, without getting into much of the sexual stuff.
“I like the idea of you taking him on as an assistant,” he said.
“But that’s purely from the perspective of someone who loves you and wants to keep you safe.
Whether it’d be a bonus or a problem in the way you work?
It might go either way. Still, since he knows specifically about the place you’re trying to investigate, it might be a good test case. ”
I nodded. “Kind of what I was thinking, but I still worry about getting him in trouble for leaking classified information. I’m good at keeping contacts safe, but that’s because I can keep them secret. Can’t do that when he’s walking onto the property with me.”
“Maybe you let him work to balance his karma in the ways he feels are important, and trust him to judge his personal risks?”