Wakefield does pay for restitution and victims’ services, but that’s more of a tax write-off-slash-PR move.
“What if the person who owns the bleeding-edge technology is good?”
“I’ll let you know when that happens.”
Instead of salaries, the Wimberley team splits whatever spoils—hidden overseas accounts, weapons, land—they find. Rinse and repeat for twenty years, and everyone involved is worth nine figures, minimum.
“What about Anders’ day job? Is “world-class experimental surgeon” a cover?”
“No, that’s very real.”
“So, he’s what? Walking out of surgeries and into violent operations?”
“Sometimes,”she says a bit too nonchalantly.
“Doesn’t sound like something your money guys would like.”
“Accurate, but they allow him to go on ops because he threatened to quit otherwise.”
“Something tells me that putting Anders in a lab and telling him to curb his murder instincts is the same as setting a teething German Shepherd puppy in a room with a fluffy new couch andtelling it to sit quietly. Either way, something’s getting ripped to shreds.”
Hedy laughs for a solid minute at that. “You know him better than I thought you would.”
So, yeah. Vigilante capitalism with a body count. I’m horrified and impressed in equal measure. I’m also one hundred percent certain that’s not nearly all of it.
While the Guardians technically disbanded right before joining Hedy’s team, the original members all stayed close. Built houses near each other. Raised their kids together. And Rami is one of the few kids who have absolutely no idea that their entire existence is built on blood money.
Jesus.
That realization alone was enough to make me stare off into the middle distance for a solid hour. Then, just as I was reconsidering my life’s choices, Hedy offered me a job.
Apparently, Rami’s little crush flagged me for surveillance, and I’d had no idea I was being watched by their crew prior to my little confrontation with the Bashes and Uncle Hopper. I’m supposed to be flattered that they liked what they saw.
I guess flattered is better than dead.
When I asked Hedy what she thinks I can do for them, she noted that as a high-end barber with a minor in vigilante justice, I have a knack for getting powerful people comfortable enough to run their mouths.
That’s true enough.
For now, they’d like me to cozy up to influential assholes and let them talk about themselves in case they accidentally reveal something useful. A breadcrumb. A detail. A weak spot that the team in Wimberley can exploit.
I told her I’m not willing to kill.
“It’s Valentine’s, Hedy. Not Sweeney Todd’s Barbershop and Murder Emporium.”
“Fair.”
I was also quick to warn her that, while my social media presence is respectable for Austin, it’s not exactly global. She said that isn’t an issue. It turns out, Rami’s method of working the algorithm is a form of lightning that the tech freaks in Wimberley have figured out how to bottle.
She said I’d be “platformed.”
“That sounds like something you do to a witness right before pushing them off the roof.”
“Not on your first mission.”
When I pointed out that Rami had no idea the team in Wimberley was using and profiting off his ideas, Hedy nodded thoughtfully. She explained that some of the baby birding his dads had me do was meant to help the team figure out his strengths and weaknesses. He was never meant to be good at stalking. They just wanted to see if he’s comfortable with the morally gray Wimberley regularly operates in.
I finally confessed that I’d gone off on him and told him he was bad at stalking. I also informed her that he knows there’s something more to his dads than meets the eye.
