Unconventional

“And you also mentioned you had a friend at the county offices,” I insinuated. “Which means you’re in league with someone else.”

The men looked at each other again, and this time neither one looked comfortable.

Julian set his pint back on the table, half-empty. Then he leaned forward, way down, getting right into Jonathan’s face.

“Listen to me,” he said evenly. “You’re never getting this property. And you’re never getting back on the grounds either,” he growled. “So now might be a good time to tell us everything.”

The man loosened his tie again, uncomfortably. But that’s all he did. That’s all he said.

“Tell them,” said Edgar, abruptly.

Everyone swung their attention to the other side of the table. Edgar folded his hands together nervously.

“Might as well,” he said. “If… well…” he shrugged again. “They need to know.”

“Know what?” I demanded.

The two men held each other’s gaze for a very long moment. I wanted to ask again — to scream at them in frustration — but Noah held me gently back with one big arm.

“Fine,” Jonathan sighed. “But first… a proposition?”

I stood there arms folded in reserved silence, nearly vibrating in anticipation. Both Julian and Noah were staring daggers at the antiquities-dealer.

“Twenty-five percent,” said Jonathan simply. “We share all available information, maps, books, etc… and in return you cut us in for—”

“NO.”

The word came loudly in stereo, from both Noah and Julian together.

The man jumped in his chair, a little shell-shocked. He recomposed himself quickly though. “Fifteen percent?”

“Five percent,” I said, chiming in. “And that’s only if your information is any good.” I whirled on Edgar. “And that’s conditional on you paying back Mr. Nolan the two weeks ‘severance’ you stole from the man.”

Edgar nodded sullenly, but now it was Jonathan who crossed his arms defensively. “Ten—”

“Don’t,” warned Julian. “You should be getting nothing. She’s being extra generous, here. If you open your mouth again, there’d better be a ‘yes’ involved.”

Noah slammed the rest of his pint while the men communicated silently from across the table. Eventually, after several tense moments, Jonathan nodded his head.

“Yes,” he said finally. “Of course.”

Their pints arrived. This time I took Jonathan’s. I also took the chair Julian offered me, having just pulled two from an adjoining empty table.

“Now, tell us everything,” I said, taking a good long swig. Dark lager really wasn’t my thing, but I was suddenly thirsty. I pushed it back his way with the foam still on my lip.

“Right.”

Jonathan looked a little deflated, but ready to talk. Edgar however, still looked worried. He hadn’t said anything in a few minutes now, and he could barely take his eyes off his own lap.

“First…” Jonathan began, a little hesitantly, “we need to tell you something. And we’ll need your assurance that you won’t get mad.”

I was already mad. Now I was pissed.

“Fuck that,” said Noah sternly. He glanced over at Julian. “But tell us straight, and we at least promise not to kick your ass.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Fair enough”

The antiquities-dealer sat up straight, and finally took a sip of his beer. The sip turned into a long pull, and then a satisfied sigh as he lowered the glass to the table.