Participants:
| Scene Title | Get Me Monroe |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Cardinal stops by Matt's place just as Matt calls him. They both want the same thing, but argue on how to accomplish it. |
| Date | May 30, 2009 |
Protocol can make things move achingly slow at times, but at last, Parkman has the go-ahead he needs in order to set the trap for Adam Monroe. All he needs now is to convince the trap to do it. The bait has been waiting for days, and Parkman can only hope she's aware of her situation. She'd be an idiot if she wasn't.
The apartment is strangely quiet and empty in the early afternoon, what with Cole at school, Kaydence at the precinct, and Molly…
Swallowing back a tightness in his throat, Parkman dials a number given to Jesse Carter as he stands near a window, looking across the city at the blaze in Midtown that is turning the otherwise blue sky black with smoke.
Ring ring ring.
Ring ring ring.
Knock knock knock.
Wait, that last one was the apartment's front door.
Parkman suppresses a growl of frustration as he moves from the window to the door, the cell phone still pressed to his ear. Talk about bad timing.
Then again…
The man Parkman sees through the peep-hole is the man he's trying to contact via phone. Blinking in surprise, it takes him another round of rings before he flips the phone closed and holsters it at his belt. Then, taking a moment to rub the back of his neck and try to reason out why Cardinal would pay him a call, Parkman opens the door. It doesn't go very far before it's caught by the chain, but it's far enough that Cardinal can easily see the DHS official's face.
"Cardinal," he says with a nod. "I can arrest you, you know?"
There's a phone in Cardinal's hand, whose display he's regarding with a hint of bemusement as the door's opened. The escaped felon looks up from it, then, a smile tugging a bit up at one corner of his lips in a cocky smile. "You could," he admits, "You still owe me, though. For Abigail. And I think you want to hear what I have to say, Parkman. Want to let me in before someone sees me, like the cops that live downstairs?"
And if you're listening, stay the fuck out of my head, Parkman.
When there are people like Cardinal around, Parkman is always listening.
He squints, then shuts the door in order to remove the chain and open it again, stepping aside to let Cardinal in.
Once it's shut again, Parkman crosses his arms and stands in front of it, as if Cardinal would need it in order to escape. "So what's up?" he asks, trying to sound casual. But the fact that Cardinal's news is likely to do with Maury causes a tension in Parkman's jaw.
As the door's opened, Cardinal walks along into the apartment, hands tucking into the pockets of his jacket as he looks around himself. "Nice place you've got here," he notes. Of course, he probably lives in a dive, so in comparison this is definately a pretty nice place. Then he glances back over his shoulder, one brow lifting, "Heard from your father lately, Parkman?" Or Pinehearst.
Truth be told, if Cardinal were to have visited before Kay had worked her feminine magic, he probably would have seen something more akin to what he's used to. Parkman's eyes furrow at the mention of his father, but the thought that follows it kindles deeper interest. Had someone at the office mentioned that name? It certainly wasn't in any of the cases he managed. Maybe it was something picked up while scanning Manhattan's thoughts during one of his evening roof sessions. Regardless, all Parkman can do is shake his head.
"No," is his answer, but it is as much a negative as it is a question for more information. "Why is it everyone wants to know about my dad all of a sudden?" It's more than a little annoying, really, but it was Parkman who set Cardinal on the scent of his estranged father.
There's a turmoil of uncertainty stirring in Cardinal's thoughts as he looks back away, moving over to the window where earlier the Homeland Security agent was standing; one hand resting on the edge of the sill, fingertips drumming to the glass as he looks out at the fire. Can I trust him? I don't know if he's with — or — damn. I'll just have to take the chance. Damn it.
"Someone asked me to find him," he replies, then, gaze on the smoke rising up over the rooftops, his lips pursing in a brief line, "Not sure who they really were, exactly."
It's Parkman's turn to be unsure. His days undercover are over, but that doesn't mean he won't have to re-assume his false identity again someday. "It doesn't surprise me," he says with a shrug. "He's made a lot of people angry over the years." Parkman narrows his eyes anew and tilts his head on one side. "Is that what you came to tell me?"
"No." Cardinal turns ever so slightly from the window, his hand still on the edge as he looks to Parkman with a serious expression, "I came because I need to find out if you're working with him or not, Matt. I know you're not Company, or you would've wiped out Phoenix by now."
Parkman's face flushes red for a moment. "I haven't seen my father since I was thirteen." How could he be working for him? It's Maury that Parkman's been searching for night after night. "You'd better start singin', Cardinal, or I won't try to make that phone call again." Not that Cardinal knows what that means, but he certainly must be curious.
"You always this impatient, Parkman?" A faint chuckle stirs on Cardinal's lips before he walks along away from the window, meandering through the apartment checking out this, and that, with a burglar's eye. Hey, it's habit. "You ever heard of a company called Pinehearst?"
"Only when I got a burglar in my home," Parkman says with a smirk. "I empty a clip into the last one." Let it not be said that the last one was actually Peter, and the only thing he was looking to steal was Molly. And technically the last man to 'break in' to the Parkman residence was Papa Parkman himself. But neither of these things enters Matt's mind. He's focused on Cardinal. "It doesn't ring any particularly loud bells. Why?"
"Your father works for them," replies Cardinal, glancing back with a smirk upon his own lips, brows raising over the edge of his shades, "More to the point, he works for the surprisingly-not-actually-deceased Arthur Petrelli." A pause, "Do I have your attention yet, Matt?"
"The senator?" Parkman asks, struggling to believe the felon. He uncrosses his arms and moves to the couch, bracing his hands against the back as he stares across the room at Cardinal. After a quick bit of mental aerobics, Parkman narrows his eyes again. "What about Adam Munroe?"
"Monroe?" A hint of surprise, there, before Cardinal shrugs one shoulder, "And here I thought you didn't do your homework. Monroe works for Petrelli too. He's Petrelli's roving hit squad, so to speak, I'm not sure exactly how loyal he is to the old man, though."
"I need you to bring him in for me," Parkman blurts out. "I don't know what it is you do, exactly, but looking at your rap sheet, I know you're able to do it. And if he's the hit man, I think Strauss may be his next target…if she's not just standing in front of it. Either way, she's your bait." So it's out then. "You do this," Parkman adds after a deep breath, straightening up, "and I can guarantee some judicial leniency on your behalf. Hell, they may even give you a full pardon for Monroe alone, but if this whole thing uncovers some shit that stinks worse than him?"
Cardinal smirks at that, his head shaking ever so slightly. "Don't be ridiculous. Strauss is doing exactly what Petrelli wants… promoting FRONTLINE. You're being manipulated, Parkman." A serious look to him, "Monroe's systematically decimating the Company. While he's a complete fucking psychopath that'll eventually need to be put down, admittedly…" He waves one hand vaguely, "…he's still got a purpose. No. You want Petrelli, Matt. Before it's too fucking late for all of us."
"I want Monroe," Parkman nearly growls, whatever patience he was taking advantage of nearly dried up. "And if you want to stay out of prison, you'll bring him to me. Then I'll worry about Petrelli." Going after the presidents presumed-but-not-actually-dead father can't be an easy thing do to.
With a sigh, the bulldog in Matt Parkman settles down a bit. "Fuckin' Christ," he curses, turning away from Cardinal with a shake of his head. "Who else know this?"
"It's good to want things. I want a vacation in the Bahamas and a personal masseuse," Cardinal gestures sharply with one hand, "And yet, I don't see a pair of tickets in my mailbox, or a pair of very skilled hands moving on my back. I want John Logan shoved into a deep, dark hole after a very public trial, never to see the light of day again. And yet, the 'establishment' you value so much lets him waltz around hurting people." That hand drops back to his hip, and he leans to the wall, pulling his shades off to look at Matt seriously, "More and more people know… well. Most of them don't know as much as me." A sardonic smile, "But, you know how it goes."
"That's what you want?" Parkman spins around again, his hand at his brow. Big guys sweat a lot, and when you're under as much stress as Parkman, it's even worse. "I'll buy you tickets and find you a girl myself Cardinal, right after the president signs that pretty piece of paper. Just get me Monroe."
"Christ, you're really obsessed, aren't you? I offer you the conspiracy of a lifetime, involving your own father and you're focused on this immortal schmuck that's harassing the people who do what you do, only illegally," Cardinal replies derisively, pushing away from the wall. This is a waste of time.
"As a way in you jackass!" Parkman erupts, throwing his hands forward, palms up, as if the brusque gesture would make Cardinal understand. "You've got to realize how big a risk this is for me, goin' after the president's fucking father. I need more information, and that means Monroe." Being immortal means hearing quite a bit, and if he can ever get the full story from anyone, it'll be Adam. "It's great that he may not be loyal and all, but it doesn't do anyone any good if I don't have him. Kapeesh?"
"Yeah, you see, there's one teeny weeny problem here," Cardinal notes rather dryly, "You want to arrest the man who works for the President's father and then hold me up to the President as the wonderful hero who did it. Do you notice a minor problem with this?"
"I've got enough on Monroe without pulling in Pinehearst. Besides, if he rats, he'll get immunity from that shit anyone, ten to one." Parkman is desperate, and it's clear in how he paces, eyes on Cardinal as if he were a juicy snack on the other side of a row of bars. "I know you don't have much faith in the system, Cardinal, but you've got to trust me a little."
"Except for the fact that as soon as I get pardoned and hit the grid again," observes Cardinal with a vague wave of his hand as if to illustrate the matter, his own voice exhibiting more than a bit of frustration, "The President and his father will have me killed. And then he'll have you killed. And then everyone will be dead."
"So stay off the grid," Parkman says with a shrug, "But if this stuff goes all the way back up to Nathan," if Nathan is involved, "then it's bigger than either of us can handle by ourselves." And with DHS under the microscope, they won't be too much help either. "Regardless, what we need most is information." And the best source Parkman can think of it Monroe.
"Monroe won't do you any good, Matt," Cardinal brings a hand up to his face, covering his eyes as he draws in a slow breath… then exhales it against his fingers, "We need…" The Formula. "…to find someone who does know something. I need to get into Pinehearst and find out what's going on in there."
"So why did you come here?" Desperation has turned into something else as Parkman turns away again, looking back to the window. "Just to tell me Dear Old Dad is neck-deep in the same shit he's been in since I was born? If he falls, good riddance." Parkman sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. "But if you see a little girl in there while you're snooping around, do me a favor and bring her home?"
"Oh, I don't know," Cardinal rolls his eyes, hand jerking sharply through the air, "Maybe because I thought, just maybe, you could help blow the damn lid off of all of this. I don't know, just maybe a telepathy with government resources could help me find these sons of bitches and stop them before this FRONTLINE thing starts up and we all get crushed until marching gestapo jackboots and synthetic E—" Shut up Richard! A pause, then, "…little girl?"
All of Cardinal's guilt-tripping washes over Parkman. He's an amateur at it, for one, and for another, Parkman's mind is elsewhere. "My daughter," he supplies, head still down and nose still pinched.
"Shit." That's… honest sympathy from Cardinal, oddly enough, if the telepath bothers checking his thoughts and feelings. He steps along over from where he was lingering beside the wall, pausing near the other man with a frown, "What happened…?"
"Maury Fuckin' Parkman happened," Matt seethes, his teeth gritting though the rest of him remains, for the most part, motionless. "Waltzed right in looking like me and snatched her up. Didn't fool the cameras though, but the man's a damned ghost. If he's working for Papa Petrelli, my best guess is that she's there." Then again, Parkman could probably arrange a raid and press simple kidnapping charges all around. Who needs Cardinal?
"Okay." Cardinal closes his eyes for a long moment, taking a breath and then he claps a hand to the Homeland Sececurity agent's shoulder - an unusual pairing to be standing together, at the least, "I'll see what I can do, Matt. What's… what can he do? Illusions, shapeshifting?"
"As your Phoenix friends," Parkman growls. Bulldogs apparently don't like to be touched, especially by rats. Still, he barely moves. "And I swear to all that's holy, if you do go, and you snag her for them? I will track you down and stick you in the same deep, dark hole John Logan winds up in."
"I wouldn't call them 'friends'," Cardinal replies with a rough snort of breath, his hand falling from the other man's shoulder after a brief squeeze, bulldog or no bulldog, "We've worked together on occasion, but they're even harder to fuckin' work with than you, Parkman. I don't fuck with kids, Matt. Everyone's got a line."
"Leave," is all Parkman says, lifting his head to stare out the window again. "Get the fuck out before I call in the cavalry. And do it quietly, for the love of God." Or else Parkman might get indicted for aiding and abetting, and that's the last thing he needs.
"You might not believe it, Matt," Cardinal says quietly as he heads towards the door, "But I'm on your side in all've this. I'll do what I can for you and yours."