Participants:
| Scene Title | No Fortune Today |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's not a good day when Len has to send Lawrence after one of his own. |
| Date | June 13, 2009 |
Nondescript Chinese Restaurant
As soon as Lawrence received the summons, and the location, he should have had a clue what his next assignment would be. He might be surprised to find out that he's the only one who's going to be asked to meet Len. The same Chinese restaurant from before, where Lawrence and Veronica met with Len when they were ordered to kill Roger Goodman. Len had debated long and hard about this decision. What it the right choice to make? Unfortunately, it seemed to be the only choice to make. When agents depend on you and trust you, it makes these types of assignments that much harder.
So Len waits for Lawrence to arrive, a plate of Sweet n Sour Pork on the plate in front of him, with a black folder underneath it as he eats and waits. Occasionally, he'll speak Mandarin to a worker or the owner as they walk by asking him if he's enjoying his meal. Seems that Len Denton is a regular here.
Lawrence threads his way through the restaurant to arrive at the back room, a large briefcase in hand. It's big enough that if it were, say, made to hold a very modern sniper rifle in multiple pieces, it wouldn't be a huge surprise. He sets the briefcase down and folds himself into the seat across from Len. "I assume I'm not going to be told much about this particular assignment?" His lips are pursed together, forehead rumpled.
Taking his napkin, that's tucked into the neck of his shirt and wiping his mouth off, he sets his fork down, then slides his plate off to the side of his little table exposing the folder. Len glances up at Lawrence and nods. "I have a picture. All you get to do is glance at the picture, same as last time. At that point, I will dispose of this entire folder."
Len leans back in his chair as he picks up the folder, considering the possibility of calling this entire thing off. His dark eyes glance across the way to Lawrence. "I don't like this. But — I feel a message has to be sent to someone I am supposed to trust. That being said, the message will fail to be received if this target dies. So — we're looking to make a point rather than eliminate a problem, understood?"
Lawrence eyes the folder, then Len, then the folder again with his watery blue eyes, gaze sharp. "Understood," he says. "I'm not going to like this, am I? You don't look like you like it."
"I don't like it in more ways than one. I don't like that someone is putting me in this position. The position where I have to bring back one of my own into the fold who seems hell bent on using their position to bring us down. So, I'm hoping that non-lethal means will get the point across. If not, then you'll be called back for a more pernament solution."
And with that, Len slides the folder across the table. All Lawrence has to do — is look. "If you want to walk away now, I'll find someone else. But you're the best I have for this. I know if I tell you to make it non-lethal, you'll make it so. There's a slim chance of failure with anyone else."
Lawrence seems mollified by that; he sits up a little straighter, reaches for the folder, flips it open. He blinks a few times, and it's a few more moments - tick, tock, tick, tock, with the clatter and bang of the kitchens around them. The dropping of a large pot lid jars him from the moment and he remembers something about closing the folder. Flipping it shut, he slides it toward Len again. "Really?"
All Len can really do at this point is nod. Target affirmed.
Another moment - one tick or tock, take your choice of the two - and Lawrence nods as well. "Understood. When?"
"I believe there's going to be meeting with someone from Phoenix soon. I want to make sure my point is being made." Len doesn't look at all happy. Whether it's that someone would sell him out after he's done all he can to put his ass on the line for them — or the fact that he has to send someone else to make a point for him.
Lawrence's head bobs on his thin neck in another nod. "Understood," he says yet again. "I'll be ready." A pause, and then, "Will you be getting a fortune cookie?"
Reaquiring the folder, he folds it closed, covering the picture that's inside. "Seems that today — there is no fortune for me." The cowboy dips his head, dismissing Lawrence. As the agents leaves, Len starts to take one last bite of his meal before realizing he no longer has an appetite. He stands and moves out the back entrance and across the street to the vacant building where he's already started up the furnace in the middle of June. The door opens and he tosses the folder inside. The folder flips open and he watches as a familiar face burns.