Chapter Four
Location: Chicago, La Ochoa

Lena Duran was an interesting girl. She was about five feet six inches tall, slim, but intelligent beyond anything people could comprehend. It was not blatant knowledge but a subtle slyness that undid her enemies. Her hair was dark black cut to shoulder length and her eyes were a warm brown. Her smile, however, was the most dominant trait.

That smile could mean you were friends with the bar owner or her worst enemy...most couldn't tell the difference.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd show up. Three days in the hospital amiga? Not fun I imagine," Her white teeth flashed in the dark, "keeping a wolf pent up must be pretty dangerous."

"No different than a fox I presume." Her laugh was smooth and deep, refreshing to hear compared to the beeping of hospital monitors.

"Oh, how I've missed you." Lena paused outside of the run down building, it's bricks cracked and filled with grime and dead insect carcasses.

"Likewise. You've kept busy?" The question was one I hoped had a nice answer.

"You could say that. My little brother on the other hand insists on causing trouble," Lena growled in frustration. With a shake of the head she waved at me to follow her down a set of stairs.

"Seems to run in the family," I teased.

"Except he likes getting caught," Lena argued. The alley we'd connected to held a dim flickering sign, one wouldn't notice it unless they were looking. The neon green and purple read, La Ochoa.

"Thought you'd hate that name when I suggested it," I noted, recalling when we were both younger standing in the same alleyway just after Clarke's father had recruited her services.

"It fits. Besides it's a reminder, let's me know who my real friends are." Lena winked mischievously before pausing in front of a metallic door. She gave a slight knock before the door opened with a large groan. It was dark inside but I knew what lay underneath: a throng of people moving, dancing, drinking, singing, and gambling. Anything that the public eye didn't want to see existed here. The doorman was in charge of keeping unwanted eyes out.

If you focused well enough you could almost feel the vibrations of the building's underground secrets through the soles of your shoes. Lena moved through the darkness with ease and I followed the sound of her footsteps until we reached a rickety set of stairs.

With each step downwards the true environment of the building was revealed. Light pulsated under the crack of another door and music thrummed against its surface with vigor. There was the sound of faint laughter and the clinking of glasses, signaling La Ochoa's prime drinking hour.

It had been months since I'd been here but the scent was the same. Smoke, alcohol, sweat, and something enticing-perhaps a dessert. Lena heaved the large door open and the full scene exploded into the stairwell.

Lights of purple, green, and pink slithered across the ground as waiters moved about with drinks and appetizers. There was a poker table tucked against one side of the room with a large gathering, pool to the left, a few rooms off in the back, but most prominent of all was the stage.

Numerous tables and couches were positioned to give a decent view of the musicians in charge of entertainment. Men dressed to the nines, with women bejeweled on their arms, clapped politely and smiled at the singer.

"Ah, she's lovely." Lena smiled humming the tune of the song.

"I don't think I've heard this song, it's...good." Normally my music tastes were picky, and though I didn't like most modern music, I tried to keep up with it. But this song was somehow a step into the past, though it had the undertone of modern tunes. The thrum of the snare, the gentle plucking of electric guitar strings, the caress of keys on the piano, it was captivating.

It seemed many of the younger men thought so as well. Even from the entrance I could see the hungry glint in their eyes. They held an agitated aura: a tapping of fingers and bouncing of legs, as they tried to draw the artist's attention.

But the boys will play
And the girls will dine
To the beat of the snare
Sip sweet liquor and wine!

"I don't remember her from last time," I noted, turning my attention back to Lena. She stood with her arms crossed tapping her fingers lightly to the beat.

"I didn't know she could sing. She worked the bar until this last week, found out her little talent-"

"I'm not surprised; you're good at digging up secrets."

"And now, thanks to my wonderful talent finding abilities, she's drawing in the masses like crazy," Lena rolled her eyes ignoring my remark and continued on, "these little boys have money to spend and they think they'll win her over eventually. I say keep them hungry, it's good for business."

"What's her name?"

"Brooklyn. A lucky catch," Lena concluded. "Now, what's the business you have for me?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask. Let's move to somewhere a little more private shall we?" Lena's lips twitched into a smirk and she gave a fake pout before leading me away from the festivities.

But the party will end
And I'll have to go
Won't get to say goodbye
To my-
Lover.

Brooklyn's eyes scanned the crowd and she gave a small wink to one of the entranced young men. Her eyes flicked towards Lena and I , only for a moment, but her gaze left me with a curious notion.

She doesn't know
That from afar-
It's her I admire!

The snare began to fade as the last few notes were sung. With the end of the music an uproar of applause drowned out our disappearance.
—-
Lena's room of operations, her little fox hole so to speak, was any tech lover's dream. She didn't seem like the super intelligent type but her brain worked much faster than anyone could tell.

The walls had cables running across them kept down by electrical tape, while file cabinets held binders of information, and numerous computer monitors were mounted on the wall. Of course the place was more or less of a mess. Old take out cartons sat in an over flowing garbage can, bottles of water and beer lay empty on the ground, and there was even a Capri sun currently perched next to her key board.

"Welcome to my humble home amiga." She spread her arms wide like a magician showing off their new trick.

"Lena, I've been here before." Laughing I recalled when this place was nothing more than a single computer on a rickety table. We'd practically built this place together-with Clarke's help of course.

"I know, but I have a flare for dramatics." With a sigh she flopped into the computer chair and rolled forward with a dramatic crack of her knuckles. "Now, tell me, who do I have to find?"

"Are you able to hack the security cameras at Dwyer's, ah, newly acquired piece of land?" A glint of mischief caught in Lena's eyes. She hated Dwyer with a passion. He had caused one too many problems at her bar.

"Of course I can."

Of course she did.

The screens came alive at the slightest tap of her fingers on keys until she'd by passed all security features. Images of the warehouse came to life and with it we had an inside look at Dwyer's little hiding hole.

"Can you go back? Rewind the tapes until an hour before Clarke and I had our public appearance." Lena nodded in response, too far concentrated to come up with a sly remark.

The tapes sped back to the exact time I'd requested. Lena paused the video feeds for a moment so we could get our bearings before playing them at normal speed.

One screen showed the workers laboring away, the next showed the shipping dock, a few depicted the scaffolding systems, one read supply numbers, but there were two that observed Dwyer's office.

The Irish-man was recognizable right away. He sat at his desk leaning in his seat ever so casually, the end of a pen between his teeth, as he seemed to be regarding something.

"Is there an audio feed?" I asked.

"Uh...one second I can't remember if we installed buggie mics in the office." Lena rolled away from the computer screens for a moment and flicked expertly through a binder. "Yeah, no mics. But...oh bingo! Looks like there was a tap wire feature my good friend Lawrence provided."

Lawrence was another one of Mr. Lyndon's intelligence specialists, he was found working at a recycling plant under age. He got kicked to the curb but he'd built a reputation and Mr. Lyndon was more than eager to offer him services and protection.

Lena worked her magic with a bit of mumbling to herself and a static filled audio feed played from a set of speakers.

"You want me to listen to you?" Dwyer laughed. " Buddy, I know intimidation tactics when I see them. You don't scare me. I have too many people on my side to feel threatened."

"What's that?" Lena whispered zooming into a section of the feed. It was a hazy image captured in the glare of a picture frame. "Looks like a man. Shoulders are too wide to be a girl but I can't make it clear enough. It's too pixelated."

"Can you run anything on the voices? See if the other person's matches something we have in the data base?" My eyes scanned the screen searching for other clues.

"I can try." Lena shifted to another screen and pulled up a specialized program. "Connecting the playback feed so give me a second."

"No need to hurry."

"Got it. I'll let you know when a result pops up."

"Thanks."

The feed continued. Dwyer leaned forward seemingly intrigued by something.

"Dwyer I am aware, as you are, that your record will not hold up in court. I have the means and power to take you into custody right now if I have to. I'm asking you to tell me where I can find-"

"And I'm telling you no! As much as I'm pissed about the changing of power around here I'm not selling out my superiors!" Dwyer was angry now. His Irish temper was flaring up. "You have no idea what forces you're tampering with. You may have gotten Lucky Lucifer in your pocket but I'm not a coward. The work my people do is good work."

"Lucky? What the hell?" Lena breathed. "Lucky went missing two months ago."

"Your work is that of thieves, killers, robbers, and motherless ba-"

"You shouldn't insult a man's mother." Dwyer's right hand slowly appeared on the table a gun held firm in his grip. "You idiots have no clue what goes on down here. We ain't the bad guys of the bad guys. We're the heroes of the bad guys. You want to know true criminals? Take a walk down in the Z sector. I'm sure Old Dice's gang would have fun with you."

"Put the gun away-"

"No! You listen here. My people, my family, we've taken dozens of street kids and given them protection and health. We provide for people who are sick because you guys jack up prices on medicine. We give what you refuse. It's no different than the old days. You know the name Boss Tweed? Political machines? You fuckers used to do the same thing. You don't like it cause the tables have turned. Get used to it, your time is up," Dwyer snarled. In a flash he moved and the footage went white from the gunfire. The speakers exploded with noise.

Lena jumped in her seat eyes wide with shock. "How-how did no one know about this?"

My eyes remained on the screen and I ignored her question. The footage came back into focus and I saw Dwyer slumped on his desk with blood covering the lacquered wood. He was dead.

The other man moved slightly into frame but his features were covered. He pulled something from his pocket and held it to his ear. "Go ahead and execute order twenty three. We don't have cooperation here. The Lyndon Family is marked. Take them out."

The man ended the call and left as easily as he'd come.

"What in the name of god?" Lena gasped.

"Go back to the normal footage." My voice was stern and she obeyed on command. "That's not new footage. They're running a loop, look."

Lena examined the details of the video and nodded in agreement. "We have an issue my friend. Dwyer's been eliminated and the warehouse is most likely dead. Better yet, you've got a contract killer that tried to wipe you and baby Clarke out. From the sound of it, this guy means business and he isn't happy we've got the support of his citizens."

"The question is who he is."

"Well according to this-" Lena gestured to the search results for voice matching, "he doesn't exist."

"That's impossible."

"No record of him on any phones calls we've ever had. Not in the data base at all which means he's not one of us."

"He's a Fed."

"Seems like the only option."

"Damn it!"

Lena gave me an anxious look and before I could ask her another question my phone rang. Sighing I answered the call.

"What?"

"Clarke's gone." It was Charles.

"What? He was with you!"

"Yeah, well he got a call from his sister. He's at the Lyndon estate," Charles explained.

"Is she alright?"

"She's sick. He's going to help but- that place it- it isn't good for him."

"I'll head that way as soon as I can," I sighed. The Lyndon estate held a dark history. A history to Clarke's past that he'd never been able to forget.

"Sorry kiddo," Charles apologized.

"It's alright." With that I ended the call.

"Clarke in trouble?" Lena questioned.

"Not entirely but I have to go. Thank you for everything. We'll have to talk later. Be safe and be careful. Don't tell anyone about this yet." Lena nodded in understanding. She stood giving me a tight hug before powering off the systems.

"I can keep a secret."

"I know you can," I laughed.

The two of us left the room behind and Lena made sure to lock it up tightly. The music was still going but there were no vocals this time. It seemed the singer was taking a break.

Making my way back towards the entrance I caught sight of Brooklyn, glass of whisky in hand, smirk on her face, leaning in the doorway.

"Haven't seen this one around Lena," Brooklyn's gaze held a strong intensity as she studied my appearance, "What's she like?"

"Can't say. It's classified cariña." Brooklyn seemed relatively amused by Lena's response.

"Playing a game are we little zorra?"

"Hmm, someone's picking up on Spanish." Lena quipped, "But I mean it. Private business."

"Suit yourself." Brooklyn gave a small shrug. "See you around...Archer."

Frowning, I watched her waltz off wondering how she could know a nick name of mine if she'd never met me before. It only occurred to me once I felt a small gust of air on my shirt sleeve that the tattoo on my arm was exposed. I hadn't covered it with makeup to come here.

"She's tricky. No wonder you keep her around," I noted. Lena gave a shrug as she led me back up the steps.

"She likes to play. She's not as bad as Trey when he's here on the weekends." That was true. Trey was a flirt. He was also a really good artist.

"Take care Foxtrot."

"You too Cuerva." Lena laughed as I stepped back out into the alley and hurried along. I needed to head to the Lyndon estate as quick as possible. But my concern for what Lena and I had just dug up wasn't about to vanish anytime soon. We had a real problem on our hands. I'd suspected that Dwyer was the cause of our attempted murder but I was wrong.

The Feds weren't afraid to get involved anymore, and from the sound of it they'd managed to coax some of our rivals to join in the man hunt for our heads. Clarke was the alpha around here but it didn't stop challengers from passing by. I just hoped this wasn't going to be impossible to beat.