"How cold is it?
"It's so cold the politicians put their hands in their own pockets."
~ Zandra, every winter
Carter struggles to keep his jaw shut. He demands to inspect the coin in Zandra's hand. Zandra flips him the coin, which he tries and fails to catch.
"It's...it's...impossible," Carter says, hunching over to pick up the coin he fumbled.
Those words coming out of your mouth are exactly why it is possible.
Carter shows the coin to the guard first, and then to Sunglasses.
"You only had the one coin, right?" the guard says. He wobbles between excitement and feigned disbelief for the sake of his employer.
Sunglasses places the coin on his notepad and works the smartphone video recording over the top. He gets in close with the phone and then pulls away, as if searching for a clue hidden on the coin.
Carter remains flabbergasted. He repeats, "impossible," under his breath over and over.
"Why would it be impossible, Carter? Something you want to tell us?" Zandra says.
Carter shakes his head. "I knew I should've told them to tell you to fuck off the minute you came here."
Sunglasses returns the coin to Zandra. She slips it into the pocket of her purple gown.
I think I'll keep this as a souvenir. This little trick was close. Too close.
"But you didn't, because you can't," Zandra says. "Don't make me say that word again."
"What word?" the guard says.
Carter doesn't respond. Zandra lets her last sentence sit.
Sunglasses points the smartphone at Zandra. He says, "You said you were going to explain this."
"You're looking at the explanation," Zandra says with a hint of sarcasm.
A cool breeze brings the aroma of supper cooking back at the clubhouse. The guard's stomach grumbles in response.
"For posterity's sake, Zandra, what just happened here?" Sunglasses says from behind the smartphone.
"Same thing that happened to me," the guard says.
As enjoyable as it may be to watch these dipshits squirm, I can't let this sit forever.
"Not quite, child. Maybe you should ask Mr. Cunningham what happened here," Zandra says.
Sunglasses points the smartphone at Carter.
"The hell, Zandra, really?" Carter says. He crosses his arms. "We're finished here. Shut that video off. No recording allowed without permission."
"But I thought the rules didn't apply to you," Zandra says.
"I don't owe you an explanation of anything, you fucking freak show," Carter says.
Don't move that smartphone, Sunglasses. It's the only thing keeping him from running.
"Fine, then I will," Zandra says as she shuffles over to Carter so that she's in frame of the video. "It's quite simple, really. You're an arrogant prick, Carter, and you don't like to lose. There was no way you were going to allow me to be successful. You never put the coin on the target in the first place."
Carter fumes and contorts, but he doesn't deny the accusation.
Be mad, Carter. You earned it.
"How did the coin end up in your pocket?" Sunglasses says.
"Come now, child. Do you really expect me to reveal everything?" Zandra says in reply.
"Yes."
Sleight of hand. I had Carter focus on the "heat" on his back while I picked his pocket. Luck was on my side this time. He just as easily could've tossed the coin over the side of the golf cart.
In the meantime, I've got a reputation to uphold. Time for a distraction.
"There's a spirit standing next to you. It's the same one that told me about the coin, and now it's trying to tell you something, too," Zandra says to Sunglasses. She hedges her assertion, as she usually does when referencing spirits, with the words "told" and "tell." It's no slip of the tongue. Inaudible words from the ether aren't binding in the first place, and there's always a chance she misheard in the second.
Sunglasses is unimpressed. "Can you answer the question?"
"I can. It's all bullshit," Carter says.
Of course it is, Carter, but you keep falling into it.
"I picked your pocket, but I'm not the cheat here," Zandra says, half to Carter and half into the smartphone.
"That's rich coming from you," Carter says.
"That marks the only time I've been accused of being rich," Zandra says and coughs into her sleeve to hide any hint of a smile. Even after years of training herself not to visibly enjoy her low-key zingers, she still finds it challenging not to show a little amusement.
It's all I've got.
"You picked my pocket. There's nothing supernatural about it," Carter says.
Now Zandra shows her grin. She points it at Sunglasses's smartphone. She says, "You catch that? I believe that was an admission."
"Of what?" Carter says.
"You're right. There's nothing supernatural going on here at all, not this time. You're a cheat, Carter, because that's exactly how I did it. I picked your pocket," Zandra says.
"I knew it."
"Yeah. That's my point," Zandra says. She lights another cigarette. "Like I said after you pulled the trigger, I wasn't finished. You jumped the gun before I could help you produce any sort of supernatural effect. And now it's all on video, right, Sunglasses?"
"Right," Sunglasses says.
The four stand in silence for a few moments. The stench of Zandra's cigarette overpowers the sweet-fried aroma of supper cooking in the distance.
"So what happens now?" the guard says.
I do what I do best: blackmail someone into doing what I want.
"I think you should attend my little get-together, Carter," Zandra says. She produces a fresh business card invitation.
"What happens if I say no?" Carter says, although it's clear he knows the answer from the look in his eyes.
Zandra keeps the invitation extended. She makes him come to her to get it, which he eventually does.
Good boy.
"We better get back. It's time for supper," the guard says.
"Yes. Let's get back," Carter says. He and the guard climb into the golf cart. They zoom off, leaving Zandra and Sunglasses to see themselves out.
"You think he'll actually show?" Sunglasses says as he and Zandra walk the long path back to the parking lot. Zandra's ankle throttles their pace.
"He will if he knows what's good for him," Zandra says.
"Ukraine."
"Yes. Exactly."
Secrets lose their power when they're exposed. The threat of revelation is usually worse than the effects of revelation itself. People fear the unknown.
Zandra says.
"You might be surprised to learn that I don't know everything the entire federal apparatus knows," Sunglasses says.
"No, that's no surprise. But that is," Zandra says and raises her chin at the white SUV in the parking lot. The front left tire is flat.
"Maybe we caught a nail on the drive over here," Sunglasses says as they approach the vehicle. He hunches down next to the tire and runs a hand over the tread.
Zandra treats herself to another cigarette. It'll help curb the hunger until they can eat supper, and also give her something to do while Sunglasses changes the tire.
"How's your flip-flop doing? Loose on your foot?" Zandra says as Sunglasses fishes a carjack and a lug wrench from the back of the SUV.
"It's fine. Wish I had some ankle support, though. Maybe tomorrow I'll switch it up. Why?" Sunglasses says. He lays flat on his belly to guide the jack into position.
"Only wondering, child. Only wondering," Zandra says. She disappears into her thoughts to cure the monotony of changing a tire.
We could've caught a nail, but someone could've sliced the tire, too. The nail is most likely, but let's assume that didn't happen. Who would slice the tire? Three possibilities.
First up is someone at the Stevens Point Sportsmen's Club. This place couldn't wait to get rid of us, so that doesn't make sense.
Second would be the same person or people who trashed my hotel room, they who are doing a marvelously shitty job of killing me. What would be the point of cutting a tire here, though? To keep us from going somewhere? Just to be assholes? I'd have more respect for whoever this is if they just came right out and tried to get the job done.
Third is Sunglasses. He's eager to change that tire, so it's not like he's stalling. That said, he still has...
"...a good reason to cut that tire," Zandra says, finishing her thought out loud.
"What?" Sunglasses says with a grunt as he torques the lug wrench.
Zandra draws hard on the cigarette and exhales. "Maybe you cut the tire."
"And why would I cut the tire?"
"So no one could make off with the vehicle," Zandra says.
Sunglasses puts the lug wrench down and works the handle on the carjack. The tire lifts a few inches off the ground. He slips it free and rolls it 360 degrees to Zandra's feet.
"That's a bit extreme, don't you think? The only thing they taught us at Secret Agent School about tires is to shoot out the sides, not the treads. Less rubber," Sunglasses says. He taps on the head of a nail buried into the tire's tread. "Looks like we caught it just right."
That's why I said, "maybe." Too many odds at work.
"Just keeping you on your toes," Zandra says.
They leave it at that. Zandra burns to the butt while Sunglasses finishes swapping in the spare tire.
"You want supper?" Sunglasses says when they're back on the road. The white SUV careens toward Stevens Point proper.
"Fast and greasy," Zandra says.
"We've got time for a sit down if you want it," Sunglasses says.
"I might. You don't."
"Something else we need to take care of yet?"
"There's one more invite to hand out," Zandra says. She sighs. "It's going to be the hardest of them all, which is why you're going to do it, not me."