Participants:
| Scene Title | Numbers Code |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Raith meets with Lola to hand over his TNT, and to discuss future plans. |
| Date | December 4, 2010 |
Despite it's name Coney Island is a peninsula, and only formerly an island. This small piece of real-estate is the southern-most point in Brooklyn, with beachfront property abutted by the Atlantic Ocean. A neighborhood of the same name is a community of 60,000 people in the western part of the peninsula, with Seagate to its west; Brighton Beach and Manhattan Beach to its east; and the Gravesend neighborhood to the north.
This area was once a major resort and site of amusement parks that reached its peak in the early 20th century. It declined in popularity after World War II and endured years of neglect. Since the bomb, Coney Island has fallen into a tragic state of disrepair, most prominently evidenced by the closing of the amusement parks on the island, notably Astroland and Deno's Wonder Wheel Amusement Park. The latter of those two serves as a rusting and monolithic ferris wheel that overlooks the decrepit state of the island. It's once bright carnation red paint peeling to reveal rusted steel.
Much of the amusement park areas surrounding the beach are now closed off by chain-link fence, though some portions have been battered down by vandalism and portions of the closed amusement parks are now used by gangs and other unsavory figures as meeting sites. With the NYPD stretched to its limits, police rarely have the availability to respond in a timely manner to this small and remote penninsula, making it a relatively dangerous part of Brooklyn.
Ask the right person, and they might say that the criminal element is running out places to hide in new York City. The right person couldn't be more wrong: So long as someone's neighbor has something he wants for himself, there will always be a criminal element. When it starts running out of places to hide, it doesn't surrender. It just gets more creative.
Coney Island may seem to obvious a hiding place, but in fact, it's perfect: Quiet, surrounded by people who don't say much, and remote. Coney Island is where Jensen Raith is hiding, as literally as possible. The truck he's stolen is hidden outside the chain link fence that surrounds the amusement park, obscured by a few small trees and a camouflaged tarp, just enough to make the casual observer miss it. Raith himself is hidden nearby, bundled up against the cold and on the lookout. He's not sitting around because he feels like it. He's waiting.
Lola had a cab drop her off a ways from here, and she humped the rest. Walking along, she came up to where she sees the tarp, because she is not the casual observer. No, she's a very perceptive observer, dressed all in black, here to do some business that really has no monitary value. Not for her, anyway. But the contacts she's racking up? Those are valuable enough. Her cigarette embers burn bright as she approaches, walking around the tarp curiously as she looks for something or someone familiar. But so far, nothing.
Lola's arrival is good news for more than just her. It's good news for Raith as well, because it means that finally, he can stop waiting in the cold with only his rifle to keep him company. When he first stands up from his hiding spot, it's not obvious that he has. It may well not be obvious that he has until after he calls her attention over to him: "You're late."
Ordinary winter clothes were apparently not enough for the ex-spy. He's gone the extra mile and clothed himself in a makeshift ghillie suit, even if it doesn't cover everything as well as it should: He looked like he was just a part of the terrain. "It's fucking freezing out here, what kept you?"
"Ya shittin' me?" Lola asks, turnign to face Raith. She too, is freezing her ass off - she's almost trembling in front of his very eyes. "Ah humped it as fast as Ah could but Ah'm pretty sure mah joints is frozen. Now lets do this shit so Ah kin streach out in front of a heater or somethin' an drink mahself warm with some right old bourbon." Well that actually sounds kind of…nice. "Ah got a place all set up."
"Good." That's all Raith says before he's pointedly ignoring Lola and heading right for the covered truck, which he quickly begins to strip the tarp off of. "The truck's yours too, if you want it." He gets as far as the driver-side door before he abruptly stops uncovering the truck, opens the door and climbs inside. A moment later, the engine roars to life, sounding like it might suddenly stop more than once. "The heat doesn't work great, but it's better than nothing," he says as he climbs back out, "And near as I can tell, no one's going to be missing it, so it's safe to keep or dump, your pick. Here, give me a hand with this thing." Truck can't leave until it's uncovered, and uncovering it will take a lot less time with two people.
Lola goes to the otherside, obediently, and starts to uncover it. "Ah ain' got much use fer a truck, come think of it," Lola decides. "But Ah kin always stash it fer a later time, hmm? Listen darlin, anyone but you gonna come pick this shit up? Cause if ya say no, ya be warned Ah'm libel ta shoot whoever does come a lookin'." She grunts a little, using all the strength in her little body to try and pull the tarp, but it appears to be caught. And her body is very…little. Thin thing!
"Probably not, but you never know," the ex-spy replies. A few more seconds, and he's tossing his side of the tarp up into the bed, which is a sight all unto itself when it becomes visible. There can't be any less than one hundred pounds of explosives in the back, all packed tightly into boxes. Safe to say that handled improperly during storage, Lola will be hosting her own Fourth of July celebration. "I've got a plan for that. A numbers code, if you're at all familiar with those. And I think it goes without saying, but don't smoke around this stuff. You might get a very bad surprise if you do."
Lola lets out a low whistle. "Ya got that right, darlin. Ah got a place all set up fer it. Dehumidifier an everythin'. Won' be too dry, but won' bet too wet neither. An Ah ain' gonna be livin on top of it, neither." She looks over at Jensen, quirking a brow. "Numbers code, alright, works fer me," she decides. "Spoze Ah kin ask 'fer their number afore Ah shoot 'em." She chuckles at her own, grim joke. But then she turns a little more serious. "Doncha worry now, Ah'll take care a this stuff proper."
"I know," Raith says, "And just to reiterate, I really appreciate this. I'm going to need to use these at a later date, probably once winter's over. Trust me, everyone's going to know when I do." Briefly, he takes off his gloves. Just long enough to remove enough of his ghillie suit to get at a pocket inside. Out of the pocket comes a scrap of paper, which is handed to Lola. "The great thing about numbers codes is that they're completely unbreakable," he says, offering the paper to Lola, "There is absolutely no way anyone can figure out what this code is unless one of us gives it to them. The downside is that you can only use it once, so if anyone comes to you later and tries to give you the same code a second time, you'll know they're not on your side."
Lola glances at the paper, then shoves it in her pocket. "Fair nuff. Listen darlin, Ah hate ta be a downer - really Ah'm all about no questions." She leans on the back of the truck, speaking softly. "Watcha plannin' on usin' this for? Ah may just be a mover, but even Ah get a chill that ranks as 'somewhat unpleasant' when Ah think of some elementary school gettin' blown sky high. Ya understand, doncha?"
A half-hearted chuckle. Really.
"No, it's not for anything like that." As soon as the paper is gone, Raith is closing his suit and pulling his gloves back on. It's fucking freezing. "If this stuff goes off, it'll either be used against the army, or to blow up my house so those bastards can't use it for themselves. You'll know because it'll make one helluva racket when it goes off. But schools?" A shake of his head. "Off limits. Maybe some collections of unsavories would do that, but us? We have standards."
"Well ya can' blame me fer askin is all," Lola says, zipping up her own coat. "Well Ah spoze Ah got what Ah need then. Ah'll be by ta check on yer old lady an yer young one within' the next few days. Got anythin' else fer me, sugar, or are we 'bout good for the moment?" She waches him, waiting to hear his answer. She wants to get inside, dammit!
"Two things, the first of which is to let you know that when you go to check on them, I may tag along. Get you introduced, all that good stuff. Maybe I can even wrangle a dinner out of it for you." That's not so bad, after all. "And the second-" Without pausing so much as a beat, Raith is walking around and stops at the truck's passenger-side door, "You suppose you could give me a ride over to Sea Gate? The boat's there, and that's kind of a long way to walk looking like, well, me." It's a good point. Raith looks either ridiculous or insane. Either one would attract attention. A lot of attention.
Lola chuckles, jerking with her head to direct him. "Sure thang, sugar. Scoot yerself on in and we'll getcha goin'." She turns then, moving for the driver's side and hopping up, closing the door. She brushes a bit of hair out of her face and gets the truck ready - in just a few minutes they'll be rolling down the street, dynamite swaying softly in the back with each pot hole they hit.