Mr. Craig nodded. “I assume the operation went as planned?”
“Yes, sir. They received weapons for their part. However, the Syndicate is now insisting that the target and his team assist them further. They have withheld the ID cards the team needs, as well as the credits promised.”
“I see.” Johnson detected a slight hesitation.
“I am sure this is a minor setback.”
“Do you have information as to what the Russians and the Chinese want the target to do?”
“No, sir. We are still gathering that information. Based on reports from our man on the inside, analysis suggests they will ask them to assist in a hack on a rival organization. The Syndicate has been in a hacking war with the Aryan Brotherhood for several months now. The two organizations have been going back and forth, hacking or attempting to hack each other. They have reached a stalemate, and the target and his team may be just enough to tip the scales in the Syndicate's favor. The analysis indicates that an attack on the Brotherhood’s crypto wallet or their VR sex business is most likely.”
Mr. Craig leaned back in his chair. “What does your analysis say about the likelihood of success in either of these possibilities?”
“If I were a betting man, I would place a bet on the target and his team.”
“And are you a betting man?”
“Only on sure things, sir.”
Mr. Craig smiled. “That sounds more like an investment than a bet.”
“As I said, sir, if I were a betting man.”
Mr. Craig laughed at this. He looked at his watch. “I see our time is nearly up. I look forward to your next report.”
“Yes, sir.”
Both men stood. Johnson began to walk to the door, carrying his whiskey glass.
“Johnson, one more thing.”
Johnson stopped and turned. “Yes, sir?”
“I think maintaining a close eye on the Syndicate is a wise course of action, despite our agreement with them. Their reputation for duplicity does precede them.”
“Of course.”
Johnson gave the whiskey glass to the secretary. On his way out he nodded to the large, bald Chinese man waiting to see Mr. Craig.
Chapter 23
Gomez never understood religion. His mother, on the other hand, was a person of faith. For as long as he could remember, she had a large painting of Jesus hanging over the couch in her living room. In the painting, Jesus stood, knocking on a door. When he was young, he would look at the painting and wonder what it was all about. He understood the symbolism, just not the need for it. His lack of understanding never reached the point of disdain like it sometimes does in people, mostly because he saw the joy his mother’s faith brought her. He just felt indifferent to the whole thing.
He did enjoy the spectacle of religion, the ceremony of it, and the Church of Nicolas Cage definitely offered the spectacle and ceremony of religion. Sitting beside Kat, he glanced around the chapel. Stained glass versions of Nicolas Cage movie posters lined the walls and a series of twelve panels of stained glass, The Twelve Stations of National Treasure, filled the wall behind the altar. At the altar, the pastor read from The Book of Cage, the church’s official biography of Nicolas Cage. When he finished, music layered with chopped and screwed lines from Nicolas Cage movies boomed from the speakers on either side of the altar as a light show illuminated the chapel. A showing of Snakes Eyes was planned after the music. Gomez didn’t understand religion, but he could live with this. Especially if Kat was with him.
“We’re not staying for the movie, right?” Gomez asked Kat, leaning close enough for her to hear over the music.
“I told you we could go when the music is done.”
“Thanks. I know it’s one of your favorites, but I want to get a drink with you.”
Kat smiled and took his hand in hers.
When the music stopped, they made their way out of the chapel. The night air was crisp. Kat had insisted on walking the few blocks to the chapel, so they started back towards The Galleria on foot, their breath showing in the night air.
“So where to? DeSoto’s?” Kat asked.
“No, I thought we could go someplace quieter. Maybe get a bite to eat. There's that place at the corner of Post Oak.”
“The one that serves those great vat-grown burgers? Johnny’s Vats?”
Gomez nodded. “That’s the one.”
On the walk to Johnny’s Vats, he attempted to appear interested in Kat’s story about her pilgrimage to New Orleans. It was difficult because his mind raced, trying to find the courage he would need to ask her to marry him. He made fun of himself for his mental back and forth of should I or shouldn’t I. He had been in some dangerous situations, he had been shot at, he had even been shot once, but asking Kat to marry him had his gut in a tighter knot than any of that. He was even sure she would say yes, but he still felt nervous. Then he let a sliver of doubt in and tried to talk himself out of it. Marriage was a dying institution, and hardly anyone did it anymore. It was old fashion. But, he told himself, Kat would love a ceremony at the Church of Cage. Hell, he had to admit he would like to see what they did for a wedding.
“Are you even listening?” Kat asked him when they arrived at Johnny’s Vats.
“What? Oh, yeah, I am. You were talking about the couple from New York you were hanging out with.”
Kat narrowed her eyes. “Lucky guess.”
“Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind. Let’s get a burger.”
They went into Johnny’s Vats, ordered a burger and a beer, and sat at a table near a window.
“Order number 211. My lucky number,” Kat said.
“I didn’t know
