“How the fuck …?”
“The Devil’s tech, that’s how.” A few more keystrokes, and Beto’s onscreen with us. “I thought so. Tito had all the Syndicate surveillance piped here. We’ve got footage of everyone in the Syndicate at our fingertips.”
“Why does it benefit us to be seen with a traitor?” I’d rather never see Beto’s face again, unless it was at the end of my fist.
“Does anyone besides the enemyknowhe’s a traitor? No, probably not. So, if we show him alive and well and siding with us, that places doubt on whoever hired him to kill you. They’ll think Beto took their money without doing the job.”
Shit, Aron’s vicious! “And they’ll do our dirty work for us.”
“We hope, anyway.”
“Is this live now?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m just setting up. Why?”
Leaning in over the keyboard, I inspect the closest monitor. “Can you do fancy shit like fake static and stuff?”
Aron rolls his eyes. “This isn’t a Hollywood production, Matt. I’m limited here.”
I pause while I think of our options. “Can you make itnotlook live? Like it’s a recording?”
“Why would we want to do that?”
“Because if we’re going to set up Beto for a fall, it can’t be live. They’d have to believe it was recorded after the explosions butbeforehe’s wherever he’s at now.” Aron eyes me quizzically. “Think about it: If Beto’s with the assholes who ordered the hit, they’ll know it’s not live anyway. But if we make it seem like it was recorded right after the blasts, they’re more likely to suspect him.” And if I can get my enemies to start taking each other out, all the better.
“Ah! Yeah, that would be easy enough. I can fake a timestamp.”
Half an hour later, Aron has everything set up. He offers to rig one of the monitors as a teleprompter for me, but I decline. I know exactly what I want to say.
“Okay, counting down. Three … two … one …”
Aron gives the signal, and it’s time to go.
“Hello, fair citizens of our great city. I’m afraid I must apologize for the chaos of the past twenty-four hours. It seems someone has a grudge against me, and unfortunately they chose a rather violent path to resolving that grievance. However—” I flash my most charming smile at the camera “—as you can see, thanks to my loyal friend Beto in the background, rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”
I gesture at the phantom bodyguard. Aron found footage of Beto smiling at the camera, so we’ve used that to show his supposed pride in saving my life.
“To those who attacked this city, be forewarned: I will not take this affront lightly. The Royal Syndicate does not tolerate betrayal. Sleep with one eye open, if you dare sleep at all.”
Aron presses a button on a hidden remote in his sleeve to end the broadcast, and I relax.
“Seriously, Matt? ‘Rumors of my demise’? That’s the line you went with?”
“Sometimes the classics are the best,” I reply. “Besides, if it looks like I’m not shaken by this, it works better. Let them think I’m lax enough to be flippant about it. Then they won’t be prepared for my wrath.”
I hear a soft snort, and when I look back at Aron, his shoulders shake with laughter.
“What?”
“Nothing. It just seems you’ve inherited Tito’s penchant for melodramatics.”
“What would you have said?”
Aron shakes his head. “Oh, no. ‘Rumors of my demise,’ ‘sleep with one eye open,’ and ‘prepare for my wrath’ are just fine. Really. Totally normal phrasing … for a cartoon villain.”
If it was anyone else poking fun, I’d gut them. Aron gets a pass, though.
“So,” he says once he’s regained his composure, “what next?”
