[And Joel... does, teeth clenched with irritation. Pushes the guard into the next vehicle over and slams him against the window.]
A Hummer? Are you kiddin' me?
[Big honking car like that is gonna draw cop cars like flies to honey. But he's not the hacker, and he's not nimble fingered enough to hotwire a car in the... what, twenty seconds they've got before detection. Joel runs after Heine with a grunt. At least a big car could mow over anyone who tried to stop 'em.]
[ Good job Joel. Heine puts the laptop on the hood of the car. He picked this car because it looked like it had an electronic security system—which it does. He manages to get in within seven seconds, and getting the engine started is just a matter of running a protocol then.
But the door lock is mechanical, which is one of the stupidest things Heine has ever heard. It's been about fifteen seconds, and now he needs something to get the lock open. Heine fumbles through his pockets for something suitable, trying to give Joel a look that conveys how much he shouldn't try to force the door. ]
[TOO LATE. Though Joel doesn't bother with the door, just takes the butt of the gun he'd grabbed off the guard and smashes the window in. There's a loud crack of splintering glass, and then he's reaching through the jagged shards to unlock the door from the inside and open it upt. The car alarm starts to blare. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP.]
Shut that off.
[The guards will be here any minute now, and they couldn't miss this racket. Joel sweeps the shattered glass off the seat and..... ayup, there he goes climbing into the driver's side.]
[ Heine visibly restrains himself from growling. He shuts the alarm off as he books it to the other side of the car to get in from the passenger side. He would've liked to drive, but there's no time to argue now.
[Joel puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking spot, scraping the corner of the car parked beside them in his rush and then bumping against the back wall-- but there's no time to lose. He hits the gas with a screech of rubber and then they're speeding through the garage-- just in time to see another caravan of guards arrive in an oversized jeep. They blow past the guards, break through the lowered entry bar with a splintering sound, and then it's city streets-- thankfully clear this time of day.]
Oh, I know where to go alright.
[There's an abandoned warehouse by the docks that Joel... makes use of sometimes. For hard conversations about money and goods. He and Heine are about due for a conversation like that.]
[ The handling of the car sends Heine jolting forward in his seat, almost hitting the dashboard. He grits his teeth and says nothing, though, just bracing a knee against it so he can bring his laptop up and type while Joel drives, clearing any digital traces of their involvement. As he does, a pattern starts to emerge. Something's wrong here... ]
You do? [ He looks quickly at Joel, then back at the screen. God, he feels like he's going to get motion sick. ] Where?
[Joel puts his shoulder into a sharp turn 'round a bend, ignoring the chorus of honks -- and Heine's question. He makes another turn, speeds through a run-down neighborhood, and then directs the car into a narrow alleyway. He knows the side streets around this neighborhood, knows how to get them over to the warehouse district without being seen on the main streets with all their cameras.]
Someplace we can hide. [He finally answers after a long silence. The docks are coming up, and maybe he could just pull into park and..... knock Heine out, in one easy motion.]
[ Heine grunts in acknowledgement to the suggestion of hiding, focusing back on the code. He can almost see the pattern. Almost. It's like there was someone else— ]
Fuck.
[ He hisses, fingers stabbing at keys until he finds a trace. It's hidden, but not well enough. Going back, he finds packets dropped from already-wiped video footage. He can't recover it, but it's clear that someone else was there and they're trying to hide. He follows the signature. ]
This asshole. [ Almost a mumble to himself, before he raises his voice. ] Gladstone used us as a cover.
[While Heine is tapping away, Joel parks the car behind the warehouse, hidden from sight by a chain link fence grown over with ivy. This would do for now, while he took care of business. The thief looks intent on his computer, and Joel has to strain to hear what he says. Something about Gladstone? Using them...? Yeah, that's a likely story.]
Sure he did. [With that, he lashes out, trying to catch Heine while he was still distracted and could be easily put into a headlock.]
[ Heine is concentrating on the screen, but he was alone on the streets for long enough that he reacts, one hand snapping up, aimed at Joel's throat as he scrambles for the inside handle of the door. His laptop slips to one side of his seat. ]
Hey—!
[ Struggling with holding off the arm going around his neck, Heine scrunches himself up and kicks out across the stickshift. ]
[He gets his head out of the way just enough to take a blow to the jaw instead, but Heine already has one arm inside the chokehold-- enough to avoid getting throttled unconscious. Joel abruptly changes tactics, trying to slam Heine against the dashboard instead when the other man kicks him. The movement knocks him against the steering wheel, and the horn sounds. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAP.
Joel instinctively freezes-- shit, this area's supposed to be abandoned, they can't draw too much attention-- but that's bad idea in the middle of a tussle...]
[ Heine's head snaps back when he hits the dashboard, but he kicks again, struggling. When the horn blares, he jumps and jerks back—and is able to this time, since Joel freezes. He scrabbles at the handle and falls backwards out of the car. ]
[Bad fucking luck-- the kick shoves him back against the far side of the car, knocks all the air right out of his lungs. With a click, the side door opens and Heine tumbles out-- damn thief's about to get away.
With one movement, Joel draws the pistol from his back holster, aiming down the sights. He can't afford to draw attention with the sound of a gunshot right now, but he sure as shit ain't about to let Heine escape either.]
[Real convenient for Heine while Joel's got his gun trained to his head. Still... there had been something real fishy about this job. And while he'd heard that Heine was good, it'd have taken a magic for him to whisk the painting out from under Joel's nose in the two seconds or so he'd been left alone.]
[ Heine waits, for Joel to either decide to pull the trigger or to believe him. And—it's the latter. Some tension leaves his body, but he doesn't sigh in relief just yet. ]
...I need my laptop.
[ It's in the footwell of the passenger seat. Heine hopes that it isn't broken. ]
[ Heine glares for a second longer (he can so type with just one arm), but he doesn't risk it. He goes past Joel to the car, eyeing him the whole time, and slowly picks up his laptop. He takes a seat on the passenger seat again as he boots it back up.
Thankfully the fall hadn't hurt it. Heine pulls up the trail he was looking at before, bracing himself to explain it to someone who doesn't look like they even know what a smartphone is. ]
[Joel... totally knows what a smartphone is! He has one, and is even able to text and make calls on it and everything.
At least the thief doesn't respond with another wise-ass remark. Joel waits impatiently as Heine opens up the laptop, typing into a screen filled with what looked like so much gibberish. Ten seconds go by... twenty... he adjusts his grip on the gun and if Heine glances up, gives him a look.]
Heine does glance up—just long enough to sigh a little and turn the screen further toward Joel. ]
Look, here's the bank account I got paid through. Guessing yours is the same. [ Actually, Heine knows it's the same, because he checked, but he doesn't mention that part. ] While I was in the system, I noticed there was a kind of interference, like someone'd been there before.
[ More typing, more blah blah about tracking accounts and IP addresses and usage of the same encryption, etc. ]
So his payment was just to get us in there as a distraction, but the painting's long gone. [ Heine pauses, then continues more slowly. ] Well—for the guy who used to own it, anyway.
[It... sort of makes sense. Maybe. Heine sort of lost Joel when he was going on about account numbers and IPs and double-down tracing markers, or whatever, but he thinks he got the gist of it.
He doesn't much like the picture that Heine is describing though. Getting double crossed by the buyer... that just meant it was Tuesday. But Joel had thought he was past that point in his life, thought that he'd gotten canny to this kind of bullshit.]
...Suppose that's true. What're you proposin' to do about it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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A Hummer? Are you kiddin' me?
[Big honking car like that is gonna draw cop cars like flies to honey. But he's not the hacker, and he's not nimble fingered enough to hotwire a car in the... what, twenty seconds they've got before detection. Joel runs after Heine with a grunt. At least a big car could mow over anyone who tried to stop 'em.]
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But the door lock is mechanical, which is one of the stupidest things Heine has ever heard. It's been about fifteen seconds, and now he needs something to get the lock open. Heine fumbles through his pockets for something suitable, trying to give Joel a look that conveys how much he shouldn't try to force the door. ]
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Shut that off.
[The guards will be here any minute now, and they couldn't miss this racket. Joel sweeps the shattered glass off the seat and..... ayup, there he goes climbing into the driver's side.]
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[ Heine visibly restrains himself from growling. He shuts the alarm off as he books it to the other side of the car to get in from the passenger side. He would've liked to drive, but there's no time to argue now.
Once in the seat, he glares at Joel properly. ]
You don't even know where to go.
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Oh, I know where to go alright.
[There's an abandoned warehouse by the docks that Joel... makes use of sometimes. For hard conversations about money and goods. He and Heine are about due for a conversation like that.]
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You do? [ He looks quickly at Joel, then back at the screen. God, he feels like he's going to get motion sick. ] Where?
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Someplace we can hide. [He finally answers after a long silence. The docks are coming up, and maybe he could just pull into park and..... knock Heine out, in one easy motion.]
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Fuck.
[ He hisses, fingers stabbing at keys until he finds a trace. It's hidden, but not well enough. Going back, he finds packets dropped from already-wiped video footage. He can't recover it, but it's clear that someone else was there and they're trying to hide. He follows the signature. ]
This asshole. [ Almost a mumble to himself, before he raises his voice. ] Gladstone used us as a cover.
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Sure he did. [With that, he lashes out, trying to catch Heine while he was still distracted and could be easily put into a headlock.]
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Hey—!
[ Struggling with holding off the arm going around his neck, Heine scrunches himself up and kicks out across the stickshift. ]
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[He gets his head out of the way just enough to take a blow to the jaw instead, but Heine already has one arm inside the chokehold-- enough to avoid getting throttled unconscious. Joel abruptly changes tactics, trying to slam Heine against the dashboard instead when the other man kicks him. The movement knocks him against the steering wheel, and the horn sounds. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAP.
Joel instinctively freezes-- shit, this area's supposed to be abandoned, they can't draw too much attention-- but that's bad idea in the middle of a tussle...]
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With one movement, Joel draws the pistol from his back holster, aiming down the sights. He can't afford to draw attention with the sound of a gunshot right now, but he sure as shit ain't about to let Heine escape either.]
Don't move.
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He stops where he is, catching his breath. ]
What. [ Well—he knows what. ] Look, Gladstone's the problem here, I didn't take it.
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[Real convenient for Heine while Joel's got his gun trained to his head. Still... there had been something real fishy about this job. And while he'd heard that Heine was good, it'd have taken a magic for him to whisk the painting out from under Joel's nose in the two seconds or so he'd been left alone.]
Prove it.
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...I need my laptop.
[ It's in the footwell of the passenger seat. Heine hopes that it isn't broken. ]
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Then get it. I'll wait.
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[ Heine's walking a very thin line here, and he knows that. He pushes anyway. ]
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Don't bullshit me. 'nless you'd rather type with one arm.
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Thankfully the fall hadn't hurt it. Heine pulls up the trail he was looking at before, bracing himself to explain it to someone who doesn't look like they even know what a smartphone is. ]
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At least the thief doesn't respond with another wise-ass remark. Joel waits impatiently as Heine opens up the laptop, typing into a screen filled with what looked like so much gibberish. Ten seconds go by... twenty... he adjusts his grip on the gun and if Heine glances up, gives him a look.]
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Heine does glance up—just long enough to sigh a little and turn the screen further toward Joel. ]
Look, here's the bank account I got paid through. Guessing yours is the same. [ Actually, Heine knows it's the same, because he checked, but he doesn't mention that part. ] While I was in the system, I noticed there was a kind of interference, like someone'd been there before.
[ More typing, more blah blah about tracking accounts and IP addresses and usage of the same encryption, etc. ]
So his payment was just to get us in there as a distraction, but the painting's long gone. [ Heine pauses, then continues more slowly. ] Well—for the guy who used to own it, anyway.
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He doesn't much like the picture that Heine is describing though. Getting double crossed by the buyer... that just meant it was Tuesday. But Joel had thought he was past that point in his life, thought that he'd gotten canny to this kind of bullshit.]
...Suppose that's true. What're you proposin' to do about it.
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[ STRAIGHT UP. ]
He can't have secured the painting properly yet. If I move now, it's still attainable.
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...Well, you ain't takin' it by yourself. [The painting AND the money.]
What's your plan?
(no subject)