The Brick had set about making tea in the expansive kitchen of Equalizers HQ while he absent-mindedly chewed at one his Big Boss Cigars. The teapot was a vintage number — square-shaped, brown and beige, with hand-painted geometric designs.
“Japanese,” the man said when he caught drift of Jack’s attention. He was drying cups using a tea towel decorated with Scottish highland tartans, and then hung it on the wall. “A prezzie.”
“I was wondering where you dragged that thing up from,” commented Pretty Amazonia, who’d sat down on a blue metal stool, one too small for her, over by the kitchen table.
“The pot, or the towel?”
“What do you think?”
“I’ll go with the pot.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Yep. So. Homicide victim number three. Head blown clear off. We now know the murders’re indiscriminate — doesn’t matter a hoot whether yer a good guy or an utter bastard.”
“This could have been an accident — maybe he blew himself up in the process of pulling the heist?”
The Brick stopped what he was doing to look at Pretty Amazonia. “A cheat an’ liar he may’ve been, but incompetent? Nah.”
“Well, at least he was still wearing his mask.”
“Some kind of lucky,” Jack muttered from his place perched on the kitchen bench. “Is that like dying with your boots on?”
The woman crossed herself, a surprising gesture. “The police never found his boots.”
“Where’s the Great White Hope?”
“Off sulking in his quarters,” the Brick said, retrieving a carton from a stainless-steel refrigerator that looked big enough to house a dairy. “Missed all the fun. Milk?”
Jack nodded. “Sure. For a leader, he spends a lot of time flying solo.”
“One o’ the reasons the Big O was our original boss. Sugar or honey?”
“I’ll go with the honey.”
“Good call. One squirt or two?”
The Brick held up a plastic container with a nozzle on the end.
“Ah, gimme two.”
“Sweet-tooth, huh? Learn somethin’ new about’cha everyday.”
“Mister B stopped trying to suss me out a long time ago,” said PA, tagging the observation with a laugh.
“Nothin’ more to know, m’dear.”
“Oh, you would be surprised.”
The Brick again looked at her, serious now, while he handed a cup to Jack. “Actually, nah — I wouldn’t be. At all.”
Innocuous as it sounded, the Brick’s comment wound the woman up. Her eyebrows lost their separate arches and became a shared straight line across her face — an integral part of a fast, angry burn.
“You think you’re not an open channel?” she sneered. “You and your teapot.”
This obscure rebuttal had its own effect.
The Brick moved quickly, fist clenched, to stand over Pretty Amazonia. Jack gave her ducats for bravado — she sat there on the stool with her chin up, a challenging look on her mug. Then again, she could afford to. With her speed she would be able to beat a retreat before the Brick started swinging.
Jack shifted his legs uncomfortably. “Nice tea.”
“Grand,” said the Brick, offering not so much as a sideways glance. Both parties inched closer to fisticuffs right there on the chequered linoleum floor — with sufficient tension brewing to serve a room full of guests after dinner.
“What kind is it?” Jack hedged.
“Mariage Frères.”
Jack peered from one angry face to the other. “Okay, guys, take it outside or try getting back to the here and now. Better yet, calm down — won’t you?”
The Brick glared his way. “You tellin’ me, sonny jim?”
Jack sipped at his tea. “Asking.”
“Right-o.”
The Brick unclenched his fist to flex the fingers. His face, however, remained a clenched gathering of pebbles. Smouldering, Pretty Amazonia pulled her lips together in an indignant pout.
Jack decided changing the subject might help, since he couldn’t see it making things worse.
“So, what’s actually going on in Heropa with these murders? And have you given any serious thought to changing the locks on this place?”
PA heaped a cranky glare on Jack. “Which part of ‘none of this is real’ do you not get? It’s all just idI shenanigans.”
“IdI? — You mean idInteract.”
“Der.”
“What rock’ve you been shelterin’ under? Pun intended,” the Brick guffawed. Obviously Jack had distracted them from pummelling one another — just so they could channel the mockery onto him. Things could get worse after all.