Participants:
| Scene Title | High Profile |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Raith drops Cat a line to deliver vitally important information |
| Date | February 15, 2010 |
Over the Cellular Network
23:00 on a Monday, one hour after the polls closed and votes began to be counted. Half an hour after the tally was announced as complete, Lockheart being announced as the winner. Cat's still awake, following some of the news coverage about the results, and fuming. It can't be a straight result, it seems the fix was in along a different direction than she expected. Why in hell would Linderman rig things in favor of the Nazis? Maybe Lockheart is like Nathan Petrelli, a closet SLC person playing the fascism card?
When the iPhone goes off she taps the screen to answer it, sounding a bit wearied and displeased. "Cat," she states.
"Good." It's not a number that Cat recognizes, but with her memory, the voice can only belong to one individual, or to a good impersonator. "It's the King of Swords, you remember me. Listen, I don't know how much time I have. They're watching me. But you need to listen, this is very important." The edge in Jensen Raith's voice, distant from Cat though it is, nevertheless contains urgency. Something's happened for certain.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get ahold of you sooner, but several days ago, a very angry man tried to hire me for a hit. I told him that Jennifer Chesterfield was too high profile a target and turned him down."
"Interesting," Cat replies slowly as she mulls this over in her head, "my guess is it would be Sasha Kozlow, a Vanguardite from Russia. Codename is Skoll, he's a doctor and has the ability to close wounds by creating scar tissue. The one who altered Teo's face. He sent Abby Beauchamp a written message which suggests he wants to catch and keep her as a sex toy, and apparently shot one of her work crew. This, not long after someone shot Teo Laudani's mother in Sicily."
"So," she murmurs darkly, "Skoll wants to take out someone around me too."
"Maybe," is all Raith has to offer in reply. At first. "Election results are in, and mommy dearest isn't so high profile a target anymore. Keep an eye on her. Anyone else who was with you, tell them to watch their backs. This fucker knows who I am, tracked me down without any problems, and that means if he wants to find any of you, he can. Stay in public places… what am I saying, you know all this already."
"I'll run my own intel, see what I can turn up. Maybe he's only after you lot for right now, but sooner or later, he might get bored and come after the rest of us."
"Thank you," Cat grants in reply. "I don't plan on waiting for him to make a move. Far better to hunt the hunter and kill him instead." She switches off the HD set, not wanting or needing to see more about the election of fascist. "I take it you've no other data on Skoll? If he came to you in person, you might've known who he was already."
"Never seen him before in my life, and that's why this is that much scarier." On the other end of the line comes the sound of sudden, sharp movement. Movement as if Raith had suddenly moved out of the way of something. Or suddenly changed directions if he'd been walking.
"I'm out of time, and this phone isn't encrypted. I'll set up a drop box for information exchange within the week, but not now. I'll be in touch."
"Troublesome, and dangerous, yes," Cat allows, "but scary? No, we've faced worse than he could ever be and I'm not one to let such a person dictate my life through fear anyway. Thank you again, and good night," she offers. The line clicks off, she going to spend some time thinking of plans to trap Skoll.
Thinking about Skoll may only be part of what Cat needs to think about. The conversation with Raith hid from her one small thing, and as a result, her iPhone happily informs her that she has voice mail and one missed call. Odd that call waiting didn't seem to work. Ghost in the machine, as it were.
These are checked within seconds, the woman being curious.
Perhaps no surprise that the missed call came from who else but Cat's mother. Sad news, most likely.
"Catherine," comes the start of the message, "It's your mother. We should probably talk, I take it you've watched the election results. Give me a call when you get this message… I love you." Sad news, indeed. The perfect end to a sad evening, only made worse by the fact that unfavorable election results are now the least of both their worries.
This week is shaping up to be absolutely wonderful.
She listens quietly, fingers moving to tap in the appropriate number after the message has concluded, and waits for the other end to pick up.
One ring. Three rings. And finally, Jennifer Chesterfield's voice mailbox. No answer on the other end of the line.
A few minutes pass, and she tries it again. Post-defeat, the line may well be tied up with other calls.
One ring. Three rings. And finally, Jennifer Chesterfield's voice mailbox again. Once more, there is no answer on the other end of the line.
"Hey. Just returning your call, you've probably gone to bed. I'll try again in the morning," Cat states. End call is pressed, the message being left. From there she heads to the camera monitoring room to scan footage from the various external and internal security cameras for a while before bed.