Catch Me If You Can

Chapter 5 (Sammy)

Pearl is a pretty funny name for a guy in his line of work, don’t you think?

Marisol and I had often pondered over his self-chosen pseudonym in our early days at the Garage, inventing stories of what his name meant beneath the surface. Each tale was more whimsical and inventive than the last: he was an ex-member of a jewelry theft ring in the northern Empire. He had once bargained his way out of prison–and the death penalty–by convincing the door guard his faux pearl ring was genuine. He had attempted the assassination of a top-level Agent, and took from the corpse a pearl necklace as a reminder.

For a year and a half, we allowed our imaginations to simmer, until one day, I finally worked up the nerve to ask him about it. “My old cat,” he had answered, not even glancing up from his C-screen. “From when I was seven.”

I remember gaping at him, flummoxed. Surely he was pulling my leg; Pearl loved nothing more than to toy with the minds of those around him. “You’re joking.”

That did get him to raise his head, and cock an eyebrow, in my direction. “Why the hell would I make that up, Ramirez? It’s not like it makes me sound tough or anything.”

Which pretty much tells you everything you need to know about Pearl.

He wasn’t threatening or even moody, on his good days. Generally, he liked to crack jokes and rub shoulders with the rest of us, who, of course, saw him as the embodiment of a god. He was down-to-Earth, solid, straightforward…most of the time.

And then there were the darker days, the ones where things didn’t go according to his plans. I’d heard all the stories, naturally, but rarely witnessed him in his legendary moods. It was rumored, for instance, that he hung a boy who missed a shot from the Bridge by his wrists; that he had left a girl who botched a mission stranded in the desert; that he had poisoned a small squad of Garage junkies who had fed info to the Agency.

And now, having pulled off the biggest Underground fiasco in my entire career–perhaps of anyone’s career–I was walking right next to him.

“I like you, Ramirez,” he suddenly said, out of the blue.

I nearly jumped out of my skin; we hadn’t spoken at all in the last two minutes, giving plenty of time to build up tension. “Er…thank you, sir?” I didn’t mean it as a question, but it came out like one.

Pearl reached up, clamping an old toothpick between his front teeth. Another oddity of his, it seemed, was that he was always chewing on toothpicks. “You’re smart, resourceful. You keep your head on under pressure. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find kids like that these days?”

We turned another corner, strolling through the main room of the Garage. A couple of kids were huddled together in the corner, cleaning out large, menacing black guns. A couple glanced up as we strolled past, but quickly ducked their heads again.

“Which is why I’m going to let this whole thing with the Underground slide,” Pearl muttered, giving me a sidelong look.

I felt my shoulders slump with relief, and suddenly realized that my neck was cold was stale sweat. “Thank you, sir.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. And don’t thank me until you hear the catch. I got a call this morning, and there’s an Agent up top with a heavy price on her head. One of the Class B types. A catch, not a cross. I already gave the client your name.”

As quickly as my apprehension dispersed, it flooded back again. I’d never bagged anyone above a Class D before. “Sir, I’m not sure if that’s–”

“A good idea? Yeah, after tonight, I’m not sure it is, either. But honestly, Ramirez, you and your sis are the best in the business. Think of this as a redemption shot. Bag the Agent, and I’ll forget all about this whole thing with the Underground. If not…”