Symphony

3. Bargain

He took this opportunity to return the glare that Eddy had examined him with moments before.

"Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that this—" he opened his hands as wide as his handcuffs would allow him, motioning to the bare, white walls of the interrogation room...

"—is exactly where I want to be?"

___

The thief had never been caught before.

He chose his jobs carefully and executed them meticulously. Years of practice had perfected his craft, transforming him into an individual whose services were very high in demand. Of course, no client ever knew his real name. Nobody could ever connect his law breaking persona to his alter-ego, professional violinist Brett Yang. Until now, that is.

Until, for the first time, the thief had allowed himself to be caught.

He had thought this plan through hundreds of times in the previous months. Still, it was pretty weird to be cuffed to an interrogation table, to look into the mirror in front of him and know that people were watching from the other side.

But if this was the way to access the information he needed from deep inside ADL headquarters, then so be it. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to talk with Chen for much longer so that he could be left alone.

And what easier way to end an interrogation quickly than to just tell the truth?

Well, part of the truth, anyways.

___

Eddy sighed. "Of course. You want to steal something from us, don't you?"

Brett shrugged. "Well, I am a thief, after all. I'm sure you've seen my resume by now."

"If by 'resume', you mean the list of high-profile larcenies that you committed, then yes, I have. But that's not what interests me at the moment," the agent said. "What I want to know is...why would you need that resume when you have a musical career that's equally as impressive?" Eddy paused. "Why choose a life of crime?"

"Simple," Brett replied, "I'm good at it. And it pays much better than second violin." The thief had prepared this answer ahead of time—a partial truth.

However, what the thief hadn't prepared for was being questioned by Eddy Chen. And Eddy saw right through this partial truth.

"Hmm...I don't think so, mate," the agent said. Brett's brown eyes followed him as he stood up. "To break into a place like this, to risk your identity and your secrecy...you need a much larger motive than just money."

Shit, Brett thought. Eddy smirked at the criminal's loss for words.

"Well...you're not wrong," Brett said. But there was no way the thief would share with the agent what he'd truly came here to find.

There was no way Brett would reveal the event that had twisted his life so drastically that he chose to live against the law. Those memories, that loss, that pain...no, that was for him to bear, and him alone.

Eddy, however, was not one to give up easily. The agent pushed his chair in and leaned against it, looking down at the thief. "You know, as I was reviewing your 'resume', as you put it, I initially didn't see a connection between all of the companies that you chose to steal from. Not on the surface, anyways. But as I think about it more..." He took his arms off the chair and started to walk around the table. "You steal from the biggest. The dirtiest. The most corrupt corporations." Eddy paused. "Do you think that makes you good?"

The thief shifted in his cold, metal seat. He spoke calmly, slowly, but with a hint of force behind his steady voice.

"Do you think that makes me bad?"

___

Brett detested those who viewed the world in black and white. To them, there was a clear, simple line between good and bad, between lawlessness and un-lawlessness.

But the thief knew that the world wasn't as simple as that. He had known for far too long.

There was no line between good and bad. No, there was a wide stretch, a wasteland, a whirlpool. There was a never-ending symphony of gray between the black and white. And that was where the thief called home.

What Brett did was illegal, yes. But were powerful groups like the ADL really any better? Were they really any whiter, any cleaner, than him?

Behind power always lies corruption, darkness.

And the ADL was dripping with black.

___

Before the agent could respond to Brett's question, the door behind him opened, and Amelia Clark strode into the room. She met the handcuffed criminal with her strong, blue eyes, a fierce gaze that he returned with his deep, brown ones.

"Does it make you bad? Maybe." she said. "But does it make you useful? One hundred percent."

Eddy opened his mouth at the interruption, then closed it when Clark shot him an equally intense glare. This was not part of the plan, but the agent wasn't about to test his superior.

"Your musical career is obviously of importance to you, among other things," she said, looking back at Brett. "And the ADL has objectives that are very important to us, not to mention to the safety of our continent and our world." She paused.

"That is why I am going to offer you a bargain. You will help us obtain something that we need. And in return, we will not expose Brett Yang to the authorities as a thief."

Brett's mind was racing at this turn of events. He looked up at Clark. "So...you need me to help you steal something." She nodded. "And, assuming I complete this heist successfully..."

"We will spare your identity. You will return to civilian life at Brett Yang, violinist and nothing more." She paused. "But if we catch you stealing again, you won't be so lucky."

The thief's brain buzzed as if a bee was stuck in its confines, frantically bumping this way and that to get out. He closed his eyes, and tried to channel the soft sounds of Sibelius into his consciousness rather than the scurrying notes of the bumblebee's flight.

Think, Yang.

If he helped the ADL, he would be able to preserve his identity and his life as a musician. That would definitely be a win. But at what cost? And would he be able to complete his original mission while he was at it?

Maybe, just maybe...I'll be able to do both.

The thief opened his eyes and looked again into the woman's.

"I'm in."