Sly Cooper 5: Promises Made By Thieves

Chapter 44: Sly

I am led to his office, and I see a combo lock before he goes between it and puts a combination in. I unfortunately can't see what three letters he gets to. Maybe Bentley should've brought a spider in to watch him or something. Maybe he'll have to do it again. Hopefully I won't need the combination right there.

"Thanks for letting me into your office to do this interview." I say this so the others listening can take the hint.

"Uh, yeah," he says passively. Branwell's mother was right. It is pretty stuffy in here. One wall is plastered with photos, most of which are of Roger posing with someone, presenting a smugness and probably a desire for most people not to come in here. He also has a computer turned on. I try to look half hearted as I look around the rest of the room and I see a small vent just above me.

"So you have a degree in Business Management from London South Bank," Roger implies.

"Yeah. Just left recently."

"And you worked as a cashier at Darby's for six months."

"Tame summer job. Though it was anything but."

"As well as a filer for Robbie Pishman of the Katika Estate. I know Robbie. Met him a few times for business deals." Knowing better than to say anything that could contradict him or anything he knows about the guy, I show surprise at the coincidence. "So why would you want to be a labeler? It's a job that doesn't really require your level of education. Why not just go back to Robbie?"

"Robbie had an investor who..." I hear myself saying. "Who pulled out and-"

I forget what I'm saying as I'm saying it because I overhear Dimitri and McSweeney both talking, Dimitri saying he's through and McSweeney saying they're commencing.

"Well, I might need to take a day to call Robbie and ask about you. After you turn 18," he says in almost a paternal tone, "you then need to understand anything bad you do to a boss can haunt you the rest of your life. And sometimes desperate measures will cause that to happen even if you're a little younger. Or seem a little younger." I have a feeling he's talking a bit about Branwell.

"I get it. That's one of the things I was primarily taught."

"And just because I'm giving you this advice doesn't mean you're hired right away, or that I would not fire you if you perform mediocre at the integration stage of the-" His phone rings. He reads the ID and frowns. "One sec. Yes?...They're what-? They're trying to buy my car?! Well, shoo them away!...You tried that already?"

"Is...something wrong?" I say casually, trying hard not to snicker.

"I don't know, just..." He talks back into his phone. "Call the po-What? An officer has just arrived-Okay, make sure it's handled properly." He hangs up. "That was sure weird."

"What was weird?"

"Some two oddball buddies got some sort of delusion my car was for sale. It's parked out front with all the others, who in the world would think that?"

"Someone with their head screwed on loose, I guess. Um...if now's not a good time for the job I could come back later, but before I do, I had a few questions I wanted to ask. Don't worry, they're quick. What are your business hours?"

"7-3, and I expect overtime if we end up extra busy with-" The phone rings again. He checks it and groans. I can tell it's the same guard. "Hold on. What?!"

This time I can hear the other line. "The officer's saying they do have the right to ask for a price on your car, and she's requesting you get out here so you can start a negotiation."

"There's nothing TO negotiate!" He slams the other hand on his desk and a few papers fly off. I leap off my chair and back away, more out of acting the part than being nervous. I overhear Bentley in my comm saying he finally had the chance to get his machine into the vents from the outside. I overhear other guards running from outside to the parking lot.

"That is so not true!" he exclaims. "There's no such thing as a law that protects those with my specific car type-Okay, I'm coming out!" He leaps out of his chair and stomps over to his door, then stops and remembers I'm there. "You get out too."

"Uh, yeah, I'm on my way out," I say, once again to give those listening a clue.

I then overhear a smash, causing Roger to freeze. "Was that-" he whispers to himself. "Did they-" He sprints off. I grin. This is going great. I run to his computer, still lit. I also snatch some pictures of the wall with my camera, in case I need them. Then remembering it would make sense to do this first, I plug in Bentley's special server. I eye the time frame it says it will take to download everything.

"It needs about five minutes," I say. "Can you guys hold them off until-"

"Guys guys guys!" I overhear in a panic. It's Dimitri. He sounds...like he's whispering. In a panic.