It's just…not NOT cute.
For a rat.
"Is Timmy. Good friend of me. Very smart. I teach him to steal money from tourist and bring to me." He looks at Timmy. "Timmy, fetch money."
The rat speeds down his arm, down his leg, to the floor, and back into the shadowy corner, returning in a flash of white in seconds, a hundred-dollar bill in his jaws. Back up Luka's lanky frame to his shoulder, where he takes the bill in his paws and hands it to his owner.
"No shit," I breathe. "And he can get to New York from here?"
"Of course. Is many tunnels, and he is rat." He nuzzles Timmy, taking the money. "Thank you, friend. Is good job. You are very smart boy. I have a job for you, yes? You ready to work?"
Timmy squeaks, perched on his haunches, little hands—I swear to fuck—making a pawing-praying motion.
Luka crosses the room to his workbench, setting Timmy on it. The rat is wearing a collar, and he removes the collar, duct tapes the tracking device to it, and replaces the collar.
"Find money, Timmy. Find money. When you return, I give you much food. Maybe even I will find a lady rat for you, hah?"
"Oh Jesus," I whisper. "A lady rat?"
"Oh shush, you. He is like me—motivated by pretty ladies. I would give him a nice car, but sadly, he is no Ralph to ride a motorcycle. You know this book, yah? The mouse who rides a magic motorcycle?"
I shake my head. "Can't say I do."
"Favorite book when I am child. I train rats to be friends because I always want a friend like Ralph. Sadly, I never find magic motorcycle." Luka eyes me. "You are thinking, Luka, he does very little and receives much value. But I tell you a little story. Once, there is a ship. Big ship. It has cargo, which must go across the sea, very soon. Only, engine is not working. All the mechanics and engineers cannot fix. So, the owner hires the best expert, the one everyone says is best. The man wanders around, looking, poking, humming. He does nothing. Just look. And then, he stop looking. He get a little hammer, and he goes to a place on the engine, and—tink—he tap, just so. Like magic, is fix. Engine work. The owner, he ask what is charge. Man say ten thousand dollar. Owner says what? You tap with hammer. Why so much? You know what the man say? The hammer is twenty dollar. Knowing exactly where to hit? Nine thousand nine hundred and eighty dollar." He taps his temple with a finger. "I am this man. The parts, there? A few hundred dollars, at most. But knowing which parts to put together and how, so as to find this hidden tracking device? That is why you come to Luka."
"I understand," I say. "They won't hurt Timmy, will they?"
"Hah, no. They cannot catch Timmy. He is smartest rat I ever train. He will take them on wild gooses chase." He clucks his tongue, and Timmy hops onto his hand. "You want to pet him? He will not bite."
It goes against everything inside me, but I ain’t no bitch. I extend my hand, and Timmy hops on, scurrying up my arm to my shoulder. I can't help a shudder and a scream, but then he nuzzles my ear with a gentle little squeak, and I look at him, and fuck…he is cute. His little hands? His little collar? He chitters at me and then looks at Luka.
"Okay, friend. Go. Find money. Find money. Good boy, find money." Luka clucks his tongue again, and Timmy flies off of me, jumps off the workbench, and vanishes into the shadows.
"Okay, well, we'd better go," Saxon says. "I want the biggest head start I can get. I need to find this Jarrod character."
Luka's head snaps around. "No, you do not. I know him. He is mean. Bad, bad, bad man."
Saxon suddenly exudes ice. "So am I, Luka. Or have you forgotten?"
"I do not forget, friend. But I also know Jarrod."
"Where do I find him?"
Luka looks sick to his stomach. "He finds you."
"Luka." It's a warning, in a voice colder than space.
"I hear things. I hear he is sometimes in Vermont. He works remotely, these days. High up. Cabal trusts him. He is who they brought in to fix things after you fucked them." Luka shakes his head. "My advice is leave him alone. He is a devil, Saxon. A devil, I tell you."
"Once upon a time, Luka, the Devil was afraid of me." Saxon grabs my hand and leads me to the car. "Time to go."
"I warn you. Do not say I didn't." He presses a button, and the ceiling lowers.
He accompanies us up, on foot. He stands at the driver's window, staring seriously at Saxon. "I'm sorry, friend."
Saxon goes still. "Sorry? For what?"
Luka sighs. "She came to me a long time ago. Made me offer I cannot refuse—freedom from Cabal if I bring you to her. She only wants to talk, I promise. Please, do not fight."
