simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

"The question is," he says, gesturing at the two files side by side, "whether it's worth gambling on this man's sense of obligation. Or his family's."

He's sitting at one end of the couch in Jordie's living room, studying the tiled display on his datareader screen.

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Jordie is lying on his back in the middle of the floor, tossing a small rubber ball in the air over and over.

Just like old times.

"It's not likely that the place is going to get firebombed." He doesn't sound like he's kidding. "Extra scrutiny on whoever builds on the property afterward. So what's there to lose, from the clinic's perspective?"

"And at this point does it look like we're out of other options?"

He shifts, leaning on the arm of the couch.

Up goes the ball. "There's always finding a loophole in the loophole." And again. "I still haven't given up on that."

"Right." Simon chews his lip. "Assuming we try both: is the attempt and failure of either option likely to interfere with the attempt or success of the other?"

Strategy, at a certain point, can boil down to symbolic logic.

Jordie aims a beady look at him.

"I couldn't tell you. I'm not the one with the insight into the criminal mindset."

Simon looks back at him dryly. "I've only got insight into the mindsets of particular individual criminals. Not all that much help. It's not as though there's some universal honor-among-thieves code."

He goes back to throwing the ball in the air.

"Whatever." Beat. "No, I don't think attempting things your way will hurt the clinic. And I certainly don't care if they come after me, because as we know, I have no sense of self-preservation. However."

Up goes the ball.

"Has it occurred to you that you're making yourself a target?"

Beat.

"The thought crossed my mind."

Another throw. Another catch.

"There are at least three people I could think of who probably wish you wouldn't."

Four, he thinks. Maybe five.

"How much of a target am I seriously going to be? I'm not a threat to them."

"Considering I wasn't supposed to be able to make the connection out to Beaumonde, and we're talking yakuza?" Simon gets another beady look. "If you were them, wouldn't you be extremely interested in someone who could ferret their way through your considerably complex shell game of false identities, empty storefronts, and threatening messages to actually find you? And wouldn't you be likely to consider someone who could do that a potential threat to your business, regardless of which side he's technically on?"

He breathes out.

"Which makes you a target too." Calm. "If we try this."

"Well, yeah, but come on." The ball goes up again. "Who'd care if they hit me? You think I'd let you even contemplate contacting them yourself if I could think of a way around using your data?"

"I can think of at least three people," he says, a touch dryly.

Jordie waves a hand. "They'd get over it. And you're ignoring the real point."

"Which is that you don't want me endangering myself needlessly?"

"You don't exactly have a good reason to get involved," he points out. "And several compelling reasons not to get involved."

"I only don't have a good reason to get involved," he says, "if you can tell me honestly that you've got as good a chance of success without my help as with it."

Silence.

"I hate you," Jordie says, and he tosses the ball in the air again. "If you get me hunted down by your sister or your wife over the fact that you're dead, we will probably mutually haunt each other until the end of existence."

Calm: "That gives us both excellent incentive not to get killed, wouldn't you say?"

He considers reaching to grab the ball, and decides against it.

"Yeah, whatever."

The ball goes on the coffee table. Jordie tucks his arms behind his head and stares at the ceiling. "I can see what I can do about getting you a scrambled channel. They'll probably still be able to figure out it's coming from Capital City, but not the exact location."

"And I'm only in town for another week," he says, a little lower than he means to. "So it'll need to be soon."

Beat.

"Now all I have to do is work out what to say to them."

"Assuming you can even get them." Jordie closes his eyes. "Which isn't guaranteed."

"Assuming I can get them," he agrees. "Which ... hmm."

Simon rubs his chin.

"I wonder."

Without stirring: "I wonder why you're being so cryptic."