Herdnan- Chapter Twelve
Cymaenie closed the door on the Blazer and shouldered his bags. He had just arrived back at his safe house, and parked the truck inside. He needed a new getaway ride anyway. He checked on his Ferrari before dropping his duffle by a locker and opening it again.
He pulled out his street clothes and set them aside, then pulled off his weapons and gear and stowed them into the locker. He slid his shorts off and folded these up and tucked them away. He closed the locker door and redressed himself.
He grabbed up the backpack with his personal things and then exited the safe house. He locked the door securely behind him and started heading off down the street. He looked at his watch. It was nearly six in the morning. He could catch the bus home, but at the way his night was going, it was one of the last things he wanted to do.
He spotted a payphone ahead and dug in his pack for change. He fed the phone and called for a cab.
He was home finally at 6:45. The sky was beginning to brighten, and he was exhausted. He paid the cab driver, tipping him healthily and walked up to his front door. He let himself in and closed it behind him, locking it.
'What a damn night.' He thought to himself. He shuffled through the house to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed himself a bottle of water.
From there, he headed straight to the bedroom where upon he dropped his things on the floor, and had a nice cold drink of water. He stripped himself of all of his clothing and flopped into the bed and drifted to sleep.
Cymaenie snorted as he heard his cell phone ringing. He rolled over in bed and smacked the alarm clock. The sound clicked in his head and he felt on his bedside table. He grabbed up two cell phones and cracked his eyes looking at them both in his slumber. One was his personal phone which he had forgotten last night, and the second was what he called his "crime line".
The second was the one that was ringing. He looked down and saw that he was also quite hard and in a slightly yiffy mood. 'Morning wood...' he thought. He flipped open the phone and answered: "Hello?"
"Good evening. This is Dark Ring I presume." Said a smooth, dark, and deep voice.
Dark Ring was his alias name. "It is. Who might this be?"
"That is unimportant. But, we just so happen to know some of the same furs."
"What is it you need from me?"
"I've heard a great many things about your special skills."
"Go on."
"Yes. As it so is, I happen to have a little job that I need these skills for. Interested?"
"What is the job?"
"Something quite valuable to me has been taken from me. Ordinarily, I would have gotten it back myself, but alas, I am not the youth I was at one point any more. I need the skill that only a raccoon such as yourself possesses."
"You need something that was taken, given back to you is what you are saying."
"Precisely my point. Undo a wrong that has been done to me. I will pay you quite handsomely for your skill in this matter, as you should be for your... professionalism."
"I will need some more details about the job before I decide."
"Of course. A wise decision which I honor. Choose your battle that best fits you. Let us arrange a meeting this evening so I can better discuss the job to you. The phone has such cold qualities. Eleven-thirty at 'The Red Lantern'. Do we have an accord?"
Cymaenie coughed when the "Lantern" was mentioned. "Uh, you mean, THE Red Lantern on Bodem Street?"
"Ah yes you know of it then. Excellent."
His mind worked to cover his tracks and not give clues to a centralized whereabouts. "Yes, I'm pretty familiar with popular hotspots across the city."
"Of course. Knowing the city you work is what keeps you alive. Eleven-thirty on the nose. I will meet you there."
There was a click of the other end being hung up. He closed the phone and set it aside. He looked at the clock on his table. It was just after nine, he had more than enough time.
Forgetting about his stiff problem, he leapt out of the bed and across the hall to the bathroom. He kicked shut the door and fired up the shower.
Ten minutes later, he was heading back to his bedroom to get dressed. He quickly slid himself into his garb and ran down the hallway.
He opened the door to the garage and that was when it dawned on him: he didn't have a vehicle. He growled and turned back into the house, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his cell phone and called for another cab again. He was going to have to get a new set of wheels soon. Not being mobile was aggravating.
He would have to hit up a car trader magazine once he found out what job he was going to be taking. One step at a time.
He hopped out of the taxi outside of the tavern at 10:45. He was forty-five minutes early.
He entered the front door and walked over to the bar. The older raccoon walked over to him. "Hello again Cymaenie."
He looked around the bar to make sure the coast was clear. "Hey, I need you to do me a favor."
"What's up?"
"I need you to pretend like you've never seen me before... ever."
He laughed. "Why on earth would I do that? Did you get yourself into trouble or something?"
"Dad... I really need this favor."
The older coon's smile faded. "Is everything alright?"
Cymaenie looked up and down the bar again. "Can we talk in private?"
He nodded and motioned towards a door further down the wall. Cymaenie headed for the door and entered an office. His father had one of the other bartenders cover for him and entered the office.
"What's going on Cymaenie? Did you stir up some trouble I need to know about?" he asked closing the door behind him.
Cymaenie scratched the back of his head. "Well... sort of... but not really."
"I can't help you Cy until you tell me what is the matter."
He twisted up. He rather wished that he had asked for a different bar somewhere else. The conversation with his father was feeling more and more awkward as it went on. He knew that the only solution was to come clean. But, doing so was feeling quite difficult.
"Well, I think you knew that I quit my job."
"Yes, you told me that the other night. Is this about that?"
"Sort of. The desk job wasn't my real job. It was more of a cover up as to what I really do." His dad nodded, intently listening. "I think that even you should know that I couldn't have afforded the house I have on the peanuts that the office job was paying."
"Well... outright own in the short time span that you did... no. I just figured that you were going to be paying small installments on it for a long time. So, I take it that your 'real job' is what is winning you all of the bread."
"Yea. It is. Quite a bit. I actually own property all over the city of Herdnan. Small apartments, storage units, but mostly all warehouses."
"Um, okay. Those are news to me. So why exactly..."
Suddenly, he spilled. "Dad, my second job is not of the fully legal sense."
He cocked his head in confusion. "What... you're telling me that you're a..."
"Criminal, dad. I make my riches by stealing those of others." He almost couldn't believe that he had just blurted all of that out. He winced, waiting for the blow of worry, anger, or distrust to hit him.
Instead, nothing but a light chuckle was heard. Cymaenie scrunched his snout up in confusion, cocking his head to the side.
His father patted him on the back. "I've figured that you were for some time now m'boy. And its good to see that you've managed to make a fine living of it. I guess the genes run strong in our family."
"Genes? What genes?"
"Before I was a bartender, I was living the life you are right now. One heist at a time, saving up as much of How else do you think I was able to get this place? Your grandfather was the in the same business."
These words made Cymaenie feel rather warm inside.
"I didn't know that dad. Why didn't you ever tell me?"
He took in a deep breath of thought. "Well, honestly... I didn't want you to get hurt. Times have changed accordingly to the things that I used to do and certainly the things grandpa used to do. I never wanted you to go off on some whimsical adventure of crime thinking it was something that you had to do."
"Well, that's understandable... I just don't know why you never said anything when you knew."
"Didn't want to spook you. Come on son... I was in your shoes at one point too. If grandpa would have said something, I would have been a bit unnerved. Its better when you come clean. I was just waiting patiently for you to do so."
Cymaenie wrapped his arms around his father and squeezed him. "Thanks for understanding dad."
His father laughed, returning the hug. "Not at all. Not at all. Now just don't get your tail caught."
Cymaenie winked then headed out the door back out into the bar. He looked around to make sure that no one new had entered the bar. Once making sure that the coast was clear, he walked across the barroom floor to the darkened corner.
Here he sat for around twenty minutes drinking some cocktails waiting. His ears perked when he saw a heavy set lion in through the door wearing a double breasted suit. In tow with him were two leopards, one dressed in a black suit the other in a brown leisure suit.
They broke apart, one sitting at the far end of the bar, the other somewhere in the middle. The lion adjusted his jacket and looked around the bar.
He looked at his pocket watch and tucked it away in his breast pocket, then casually made his way through the bar. He spotted Cymaenie at the table and gave him a quick look over.
Cymaenie did nothing more than give a small nod, and the lion approached taking a seat at the table.
"You're very early. I like that. Normally I'm forced to wait for everyone. I see that I am dealing with a professional at last."
Cymaenie raised his glass to that and took another sip. "So, what is it you need me to do?"
"Ah yes. Right down to business. Here is my dilemma. I had hired a man to come and install a new security system in my home. Little did I know that he had hijacked the van he drove and the clothes he wore. Inside of five minutes, he was in my safe, and had taken some very valuable antiquity."
Cymaenie nodded listening intently.
"The thief got back in the van and was gone before I could discover what happened. By a stroke of pure luck, he had dropped some contents from his wallet and in these tidbits, there was a business card. Now, under normal circumstances, I would have had him cut and fed to the fish, but what he took is quite important to me and I must have assurance of getting it back. Which brings me to you Darkring."
"I understand. You want your possession recovered before... accidents can happen."
The lion nodded. "You've got my drift exactly. I want to be sure that he hasn't hidden it somewhere that I won't be able to find."
Cymaenie thought the proposal over. "Sounds easy enough. Especially since you know who he is."
"More than that my dear raccoon. I know what he does for a living, where he lives, how much he makes an hour, what he drives, how much he pays for taxes... any information I could get on him I got."
He nodded. "Knowing the right furs will get you far in this world. Now, let us talk of expenses. I pay cash. Nothing in series, none larger than fifties. I'm paying forty thousand..."
Cymaenie nearly fell off the chair he was sitting on. He blinked in a staggered awe, mouthing the words.
One of the men that came in with the lion walked by, casually discarding a briefcase at his feet and wandering to the bathroom. He leaned down and picked it up, opening the clasps and cracking the suitcase.
"Twenty thousand up front, the rest when you return with the stolen goods."
Cymaenie stared wide eyed into the open case at the neat stacks of fifty and twenty dollar bills packed inside.
"Also as an added bonus, any time that you should need anything, I would hope you remember me as a source. Now, do we have an accord?"
"Yes sir I should think we do." He said as the briefcase was slid over to him.
"Very good. Inside the top slot of the case is a folder containing all of the information on the man you will be visiting. A picture of what was taken is also in there along with my number for when your job is done. I thank you for your time Darkring and will see you soon."
He rose from the table and smoothed his suit out, then headed for the door, leaving Cymaenie alone at the table again with a briefcase full of money.