Thor muses aloud. “I agree it’s likely that Drummer’s suspicious about our chapter, but would he really mind if he knew what we’re about? We’ve discussed bringing other chapters in before. Most recently, San Diego.” He tilts his head toward Stormy.
As I expect, Stormy objects. “I didn’t trust them.”
“You didn’t trust them,” Pip repeats, emphasising each word, then looking to the ceiling as though praying for strength.
I wonder if he’s regretting his decision to call Stormy back to base and strip him of his nomad status. It’s not going to be easy with him sat at this table, though preferential to him continuing to go rogue. The way I read it, he’s going to do all he can to get sent out alone again. My vote would be that he leaves his patch behind him when he goes.
Snatcher is shaking his head. “If we get too many people involved, Prez, that might fuck up what we do.” Snatcher might not know Google from Safari, but he’s far from slow. When he speaks, we do pay him mind. “As you said, we operate under the radar. If too many are in the know, we might lose our edge. Keeping to ourselves has worked up to now.”
“If Drummer’s approached in the right way, he might come around to our way of thinking. Give us sanction to go on as we are without bringing the other chapters in on it,” I offer. “We’re assuming the worst.” I’ve never met him, there are good reasons for that, but it means I don’t know the measure of the man. Snatcher seems to respect him.
Pip drops his head into his hands. When he looks up, he’s got that expression which normally means he’s made a decision. When he speaks, he doesn’t disappoint.
“I’m not happy killing a brother for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. So that option’s off the table except as a last resort. Neither can we send him back to Drummer without explanation, in which case I’d soon be expecting a visit from the mother chapter prez wanting to know what the fuck is going on.” He pauses, grimaces, then continues, “I don’t see that we’ve got a choice. We bring Road in on our operation, show him the ropes and then see how the land lies. If he still wants to run back to Drummer, then we’ll have to revisit option A.”
“What’s he got to offer us apart from muscle?” Stormy looks annoyed. “Cleanest way out of this is a bullet to the head.”
“What he might be able to bring to the table is for us to discover.” Pip’s glare at Stormy would have any other man quivering, but Stormy shrugs it off. “And I’d be careful in your fuckin’ shoes, Stormy. If I were you, I wouldn’t be giving me ideas about bullets to heads.”
Pip’s words are usually carefully considered, so maybe I was wrong about Stormy keeping his patch. It sounds like if he fucks up again, he could lose much more than the cut off his back.
Stormy is a sniper, an excellent one who hardly ever misses his shot. He’s a loner, though, and not a team player. Up to now, he’s been useful. His high IQ, his technical skills and the way he can make data jump through hoops, as well as his ability to think outside the box and react to ever-changing situations, makes him ideal to work out in the field on his own without backup. But his intelligence also leads him to becoming easily bored, and the way he’d sort out scenarios were perhaps to cause him amusement, rather than taking the direct route which would work just as well. Having scant regard for other people, he tends to use them as toys. Instead of providing the whole picture, he’d drop clues and then watch them sweat and squirm as they figured them out.
Once, perhaps, he could be forgiven for swooping in and taking the kill that our brothers in Colorado were lusting for when he’d killed Major, their enemy, right in front of their eyes. But then he’d played with the San Diego club, leading them around by their dicks, literally getting his job done for him. Which probably in itself was a good call, he was just one man after all. But then, when the prize of the man the club and he were after was captured, he’d once again taken that fatal shot which meant Alder was dead with