[A/N: The Rahmbamarama community is [at it (”http://pics.livejournal.com/foreverroam/pic/0000670e")] again... :3]
V.
Harry was still working on getting a new office; his new rental apartment was a tad higher than the previous one, possibly because he had pets. The Warden stipend had stopped now that he was the Winter Knight, but he wasn't yet desperate enough to try and get some sort of pay from Mab or Maeve. That meant odd jobbing again. To a certain extent, what with Chicago being quieter of late on the arcane front and Mab occupied in resolving a recent, minor border dispute with the Erlking, mundane exorcisms and pet retrievals felt... restful.
He was walking out of the bank, a fresh couple of thousand in his account, when one of Marcone's black cars slid to a halt against the pavement. Pointedly, Harry ignored it, turning sharply to his left, but the window to the passenger seat scrolled down.
“Harry.” Marcone said, his tone amiable where his eyes remained coolly neutral. “Lunch?”
“No thanks.” Harry continued walking, and the black car kept up pace at a purring crawl.
“I would like to discuss a mutual acquaintance.”
“We have many. The memory of a handful of them keeps me up at night sometimes.”
“The mayor,” Marcone clarified, his money-green eyes narrowing slightly. “Try not to have me announce this as Accords business.”
Harry grimaced. Mab was not in the best of moods for formalities, right now, and should Marcone truly decide to pull rank, it could prove... embarrassing for Winter, a political, juvenile slight. “Fine.”
Marcone edged to the other side of the car as Harry folded himself carefully into the vehicle, minding his head, and took a mild pleasure in hearing the mobster's Blackberry buzz to a quick death as he did so. Marcone's expression didn't change, slipping the dead device back into an inner suit pocket. “He's the White Council's new Warden. That makes him the Council's representative in Chicago.”
“Yes, and yes.” Harry shrugged. “Stepped on your toes already?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Marcone admitted quietly. “That earth... magic that he did, how powerful is he?”
“Frankly? I have no idea. What he seems to be able to do – from what I've heard – it isn't possible.” Harry had managed to call through to Ebe yesterday, but his mentor had also been a little vague on the topic. “Apparently it's hereditary.”
“I've made enquiries about his brothers. There are no reports on any sort of arcane use by any of them.”
“So they've been careful.” Harry said, attempting to sound bored. “It's not uncommon. Most practitioners try to fit in as normal people. Many of them succeed.”
“But mages at a Senior Council level?” Marcone shot back.
“Less likely, but it's happened before,” Harry allowed. “Why the sudden curiosity? Finally found another wizard in your backyard to pester?”
“We've met,” Marcone said, after a studied pause, as though he was deliberating how much to tell Harry.
“And he told you to listen up, or pack up?” Harry guessed. He'd been around to act (perhaps ironically) as a mediator when Emanuel had met Lily and Fix, but as it turned out, he hadn't really been needed – Summer apparently had no further plans for Chicago at present, and Emanuel could be very charming and expletive-free when he wanted to be.
“In essence.” Marcone inclined his head, his expression a little distant. “After Miss Gard explained the potential nature of the mayor's abilities to me, I thought it expedient to make a few overtures.”
“And?”
“He hasn't responded well.”
“Dead fish in the post?” Harry had done some belated homework.
“Severed heads of stuffed toy horses in the post.”
Harry swallowed a guffaw, but he couldn't help grinning at Marcone's pinched expression. “The retired ballerina has a sense of humor.”
“This isn't amusing to me, Dresden. I don't appreciate being threatened.”
“What did he tell you to do? Get out of town?”
“He told me to scale down on, or get rid of, some of our most lucrative venues of income,” Marcone said flatly. “And to stock the schools of low income neighborhoods with decent libraries. I have conceded to the latter.”
“But not to the former.” Harry concluded. “And he wasn't satisfied?”
“I'm not certain,” Marcone said, with a faint edge to his tone. “He refuses to take any calls, and so far it has not been possible to contact him.”
Emanuel was playing with the tiger. Either the man wasn't aware of how dangerous the Baron of Chicago could be, or he didn't care. Harry wasn't sure which option had more potential for disaster. “I don't have much sympathy for you, by the way. Saving criminal enterprises isn't exactly on my 'to do' list.”
“I wasn't asking for sympathy, Dresden. I need your assistance in acting as a courier to pass a message to Mister Emanuel. Tell him that I would like to negotiate terms. A neutral venue is preferred. McAnally's, if possible.”
“And if he says no?”
“I am well aware of his status as the White Council's representative.” Marcone said, his mouth set in a thin line. “But there are many ways that I could make his tenure as Chicago's mayor very difficult for him, politically. Tell him that.”
“Somehow I'm not sure that threatening him in return is a very good idea.” Particularly since Harry wasn't very sure if Emanuel might decide to shoot the messenger. “Besides, what makes you think that I'm going to help you? I hope this doesn't come as some sort of shock, but maybe, just maybe, I'd also rather that criminals scale down on being criminals.”
Marcone stared at Harry thoughtfully for a long, silent moment, then he said, flatly, “Are you so certain of his motives?”
“You mean, his motives in getting you to stop drug trafficking, racketeering, or whatever it is mobsters do in the twenty-first century? Gee,” Harry said sarcastically, “I wonder what that could be. Maybe we should try 'common decency'.”
“And could you ever apply that phrase to a politician?”
“I'm not sure, but I'm pretty certain it doesn't apply to members of the Outfit,” Harry shot back, though his conscience stung him immediately for the retort. Marcone wasn't exactly totally lacking in that area, after all. Mafia business aside. “Look. I'll get your message to Emanuel. But I'm not going to be responsible in any way for his response. And I'm not going to take sides in whatever beef you guys have between you.”
“You would still trust in your White Council? After all that has happened?”
“Nope. But given 'all that has happened' to me up to date, I'm always willing to give someone the benefit of doubt. Stop the car, Marcone. I'm walking.”
“At least allow me to drop you outside-”
“I'm not your lap dog. I have other things to do right now,” Harry retorted. “I'll get around to talking to Emanuel when I have time. Stop the damned car.”
“Very well,” Marcone said, though his tone was considerably frostier. “Thank you in advance, Dresden.”
5.0
Rahm was wrapping up a budget meeting when Marci sidled into the room with a message that Harry Dresden was in his office. Barking out final instructions to staffers, he nodded at her and marched out of the meeting rooms, shaking his head when she tried to help him with the folders of service contract copies in his arms.
Billy and Dresden were talking quietly in his office when he strode in and dumped the files at his desk. “I have about fifteen minutes before I have to have lunch with Hilliard, so make it quick.”
Billy glanced at Dresden, then at Rahm, then he nodded and filed out of the room with Marci when Rahm inclined his head. Dresden narrowed his eyes at this, but made no comment, instead tossing a stuffed plush toy horse at him. “Thought I'd save you some time.”
Rahm turned the horse briefly over, then connected the dots. “What did Marcone have to say for himself?”
Dresden grinned at him, though his posture remained wary, tense. “That he'll like to negotiate terms, and that he'd been good. Did you do something to him in the park? Hunt him down with the pack and tie him to a chair?”
“Stop watching gay porn, Dresden,” Rahm said dryly, smirking as Dresden reddened in indignation, stalking over to his desk and rummaging in the drawer for the scissors. “Did he agree to everything else?”
“Nope.” Dresden took a few deep breaths, then seemed to decide that an outburst wasn't worth it. “Said he could make your life as mayor very difficult.”
Deliberately, Rahm snipped the head off the toy horse at the shoulders, and tossed the rest of the carcass into the bin. “If you see him, tell him to give me his best shot. I'll have this posted to him later. Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.” Dresden seemed pleased. “I don't need to warn you about playing with fire, do I?”
“Can't be worse than wrangling the motherfucking Senate.” Rahm opened the first of the folders onto his desk.
“Want me to be there when you talk to him?”
“What makes you think I'll talk to him?” Rahm glanced up, though he smirked again.
“You're a politician. You might not like what he does, but you think you need to use him, especially since the city's broke. Otherwise you probably would have found a way to get rid of him in the park.” Dresden wasn't as stupid as the Merlin seemed to think. “You're just waiting to see whether he'll cave first.”
“Getting rid of Marcone would cause far too many problems,” Rahm admitted. “Not only because of the Accords. Besides, I'm not entirely sure that She'll let me.”
“Who?” Dresden asked, blankly, then he frowned. “You're talking about Chicago?”
“He's one of Her favorites, believe it or not.” Rahm said, making a face. “Can't always understand Her.” Genius loci didn't exactly entertain finer emotions, not the way that people understood it, but for want of a better word, Chicago had felt... confused, when Rahm had silently instructed Her to shake up the mob boss in the park. She'd obeyed anyway, with a underground rumble, but it was the very least of what She could have done to frighten someone.
“That's... that's... Hell's bells,” Dresden said, wide-eyed. “What about me?”
“The next time She's up to providing me with an impression, I'll let you know.” Rahm said, a little evasively. Actually, now that he'd linked back up with the city after the stunt outside the werewolves' den, the version of intellectus that the family blood allowed was pretty obvious on Chicago's opinion of Harry Dresden. But it was never a very good idea, politically or otherwise, to let someone know that you couldn't hurt them, at least until it was unavoidable, by which time any politician worth his salt would already have tried to tide that someone over. “The Sergeant mentioned that you used to have a retainer with the police.”
“Used to.”
“I'll have that reinstated if you assist Special Investigations whenever they need it.” Rahm flipped the pages on the folder until he got to the police budget. It was strung thin, but he could see a few ways just offhand to get more out of it. “Salaried.”
“I won't be bought, Emanuel.”
“You're not. If the Sergeant so much as complains about you, consider yourself fired.” Rahm shot back. “Now go and see if she needs coffee or fucking donuts.”
“I have a job already,” Dresden said mulishly, though he backed a couple of steps to the door.
“I've heard. Problem?”
“Bite me,” Dresden snapped, and stormed out, making the overhead lights fizzle briefly.
Rahm waited until he could hear the distant sound of a door slamming shut, then he buzzed Carl the intern. “Get Hilliard and tell him that I'm going to be late for lunch. And mail the stuffed head on my desk to you-know-where. Card? Yeah. Pink Card, with 'Water leakage serious problem in Monroe and Monterfiore. Kennedy Elementary needs renovation. Don't fuck this up, xoxo, bye'. Yes. Word for fucking word.”
Rahm checked his watch, finished the tepid coffee lurking in a corner of his desk, and glanced out of the window. The black car was carefully positioned away from any flowerpots, but it was right next to a fire hydrant. Smirking to himself, Rahm reached for the nearest wall.
-tbc... not sure where I'm going with this really. A Rahm/Marcone? Hm. Will make the next few chapters less seemingly one-sided. Marcone is canonically highly resourceful, after all.-
Chicago likes Harry! and Marcone! Not really surprising, but it's still fun to hear Rahm admit it. I personally think he's asking too much from Marcone.
Harry playing the messenger can either make things better, as he's the only one who could do it without being intimidated to death by this two, or it could backfire. Playing the messenger between two people who are poking at each other is dangerous.
lol at the reference to The Godfather
I'm voting for Rahm/Marcone/Harry threesome, if votes are allowed. XD
Hunt him down with the pack and tie him to a chair?”
“Stop watching gay porn, Dresden,” Rahm said dryly.
You are killing me with this. Not just well written, but also turning the prompt around like this, having Marcone be somebody who can simultaneously be interested improving schools but isn't interested in scaling back drugs (complex, not a simple misunderstood hero). I love it.
[A/N: Dragon Age II is coming. Must resolve... WIPs...]
VI.
After weeks of shuttling between what Harry had begun to think of as the “Emanuel” and “Marcone” camps, Harry's exasperation finally reached boiling point.
Thankfully, it did so in the potentially less lethal environment of Emanuel's office rather than a mob boss' domain, particularly since Emanuel was also aware of the murder crime scene that Harry had been called in to look at this morning. Waking up to being dragged across town on a frosty morning to look at disembowelled bodies really soured Harry's day. Having to deal with Marcone's icy mood, and then finally, Emanuel's particularly bitchy one this afternoon had been the last straw.
“I've had it with being your delivery boy for your games of gay chicken,” Harry snapped, the overhead lights flickering, the Blackberry's appointment notification burble coming to an abrupt halt. “If you have anything else to discuss with Marcone, go and talk to him yourself!” He tossed the heart-shaped box of chocolates onto the table, which failed to land in a dramatic fashion, being a violent pink in hue.
“Whoah there.” Emanuel drawled, folding his arms and leaning his chair back precariously onto the back legs. “If you're feeling left out, I'll just tell Johnny to cut down. You can have the chocolates.”
“I don't want the chocolates!” That hadn't been precisely what Harry had wanted to say, and he took a deep breath when Emanuel smirked, counting silently to ten. The shrill buzz from the computer faded. “The two of you are acting like high school kids.”
“It's all strategy, Dresden,” Emanuel disagreed. “Marcone's gone along with everything I've asked for so far.”
“He's losing patience.”
“He seems to have a lot of patience to lose.”
“Sooner or later he's going to find out that you can't hurt him,” Harry countered. “What then?”
“Harry, I'm a Warden,” Emanuel said patiently. “We've gotten around not breaking the Laws of Magic for centuries.”
“I don't see you carrying a sword around.” Harry said, though he recognised a weak argument when he said one. Just because the genius loci didn't want to hurt Marcone didn't mean that Emanuel didn't know any other sort of spells – and if he truly had been a Warden before, he wouldn't even really need them. “And he has a valkyrie with him.”
“Sigrun? We've met. In the park,” Emanuel added, when Harry arched both his eyebrows. “I'm not that fucking old, thank you very fucking much.”
“I wasn't going to say anything,” Harry said quickly. “But seriously. You guys should work things out before something implodes. If you're lucky, it might not even be my fault. Hell's bells, why am I the one acting as the adult?”
“Because Marcone has a soft spot for you. Less likely to shoot the messenger,” Emanuel grinned his sharkish grin when Harry sputtered, leaning back further to pat the wall pointedly. “I'm in the know, remember? How many times has he shown up to save your bony ass?”
“Bite me,” Harry scowled. This wasn't one of his favorite topics, and he'd long chalked it down to Marcone being very single minded about wanting to employ him. Or something. “You don't see him sending me heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.”
“I'll drop him a note. Dresden, calm the fuck down. Deep breaths. Okay. Start thinking. So far we've had some libraries put in, and some schools that were fucking public liability disasters renovated. Right?”
“Right.” Harry said warily.
“And did Marcone complain at all about having to do it? About how it's burning a hole in the pockets of his Armani pants? About how he has better things to do than spend money on public schools which have leaks that have the potential to electrocute unsuspecting kiddies?”
“No. He usually complains about how you're not budging on wanting him to scale down on his operations.”
“And other than the very first time in the park, have I brought up his operations on any notes?”
“You've sent him those severed toy heads,” Harry noted, after a moment spent searching his memory.
“And?”
“Nothing else,” Harry said, reluctantly. “So what?”
“So, once Marcone realizes it, we're actually in a mutually beneficial system,” Emanuel clapped his hands together with a sharp snap that made Harry flinch. “He does some things with his money to help kids – subject close to his heart, I hear. I get to look as though I'm being tough on the Outfit, if anyone starts nosing around - without actually having to be. And when I replace Hilliard, it won't be with someone who has mob-busting right on top of his 'to-do' list.”
So it was Chicago politics as usual after all. Harry felt... disappointed, somehow. “So you weren't serious about stopping the drug trade and trafficking.”
“Harry, if getting rid of Marcone could stop the drug trade, I'd do it in a heartbeat.” Emanuel said, with a touch of impatience. “But whatever the government, federal or state, wants, the drug trade, trafficking, brothels, money laundering, casino skimming... organised crime is here to stay. Spend money and time beating them down however much you want, you'll just end up with more and more collateral damage. Public prosecutors, police, judges and their families. I'm thinking of a better solution.”
“A better solution?”
“Having all of the Outfit and its factions controlled by just one man – that hasn't happened for a while. Marcone has a no-children rule that he enforces with an iron fist in all of his operations. There has to be a workable way to get him to enforce some others. Take brothels, for example. You've seen street hookers before, I'm sure, and those abused trailer park girls. If Marcone could exercise more top-down control, make sure that the girls aren't strung out on drugs or runaways who'd gotten into bad company, that's going to take some of the load off the Vice department.”
“And in the meantime, you'll funnel all this dirty money into building schools.”
“I've been in investment banking and the federal government, Dresden. Money's money. There's no other shade of it than green. Government takes communist money,” Emanuel shrugged. “Wherever the money came from, if some schools get fixed by anonymous charities and if the crime rate starts becoming manageable, that frees up the state budget for other concerns.”
“I still don't see what you're going to trade with him to get him to do all this for you,” Harry said, skeptical.
“And what did you trade him such that he's willing to pull your ass out of the fire whenever you want?”
“I didn't...!”
“The man's obsessed with mages,” Emanuel pointed out. “Magic fascinates him. I bet he's real disappointed that you chose to bind yourself to Ice Bitch rather than to him.”
“She had immediate benefits at the time,” Harry grit out. “Also, she wasn't my first choice. Obsessed with mages or not, I don't think you're doing this right.”
“So what do you think that I should do?” Emanuel spread his hands wide. “Send some fucking chocolates back?”
“Just talk to him. Somewhere neutral. I don't like your methods but I can appreciate some of your motives. So I'll prefer to see this become a long term thing, rather than something that burns your house down in a month or so when he's done playing along.”
“Okay, Dresden,” Emanuel said, slapping a palm on the table. “You win. Pick a time, pick a place, I'll be there.”
“Great.” Harry said, relieved. “So you can be reasonable after all.”
“Don't fucking get used to it.”
About an hour or so later and on his way back to the precinct to talk to Murphy, Harry entertained a brief, nagging thought that Emanuel had seemed to have agreed a little too easily.
6.0
Rahm had nothing against McAnally's – it served a great microbrew and sandwiches – but perhaps because of the way the pub was built, or because of the neutral ground that it had been awarded, it always felt as though he was stepping right out of Chicago whenever he walked into the pub. He could still feel Her around the edges, humming in his peripheral senses with discontent, and he didn't doubt that if She really wanted to she could probably reach him through the layers of enchantment, but felt a little like what walking through a very strong threshold would feel like for a wizard.
For the Emanuel clan, of course, stepping out of Chicago more or less brought on the same impression, and he was used to it. Distracted on making sure that Chicago was keeping an eye on anyone who might have a camera or recording device, Rahm nearly walked right into Dresden, who flinched, startled.
“Emanuel. You're early.”
“Scoping out the grounds,” Rahm said, as Dresden sat himself down at a corner table. He could already see several over the other tables hurriedly finishing whatever they were having and filing out. Apparently Dresden was bad news here – not that it seemed to bother the barkeeper. “You do realize that this is a private place, and if I'm seen having lunch with a mobster it isn't going to be a walk in the fucking park press-wise, right?”
“I'm sure She's paying attention on your behalf,” Dresden shot back. “And relax, photographs don't turn out too well when I'm around.”
They ordered sandwiches and a couple of microbrews and settled down to wait. Dresden was chatty when he'd had a little good alcohol, and he was telling Rahm all about the unlikely murder investigation that he'd been called into, and how he was pretty sure that he was close to a solution. Given that no public property had caught fire yet, Rahm wasn't too sure, but finding out that an investment was doing well was always good for his mood.
Marcone appeared perfectly on time, and frowned slightly when he realized that he was late. His bodyguard moved back to hover behind him, trying to watch the entire room and his boss' back at the same time through some feat of vanilla human concentration, and Rahm leaned back in his chair, briefly entertaining the notion of having Chicago puncture Marcone's tyres outside.
She fed a note of discontent back up at him, and the thought subsided reluctantly. “Nicer than the park, isn't it, Johnny?” Rahm asked, smirking, when Marcone settled down at the opposite end of the table. The tiger was seething, which suited Rahm fine – people had a little less good judgment when they were pissed off.
“I was told that we were going to broker a truce,” Marcone glanced over at Dresden, who shrugged.
“How else was I going to wrangle you into coming here?”
“Dresden-”
“Whoah, whoah.” Rahm raised his hands, palms up. “Gentlemen. Dresden, you gave me the impression that Johnny here wanted to meet up. I'm hurt.”
“I didn't say that.”
Come to think of it, Dresden was right. Bad oversight. “Okay, fine. We can talk terms.”
“Firstly, I want to know why you've been avoiding me.” Marcone said flatly.
“You mean, national headlines aside? Possibly all involving fucking terrible puns about my name and the Outfit?”
“I can be discreet.” Marcone's eyes narrowed. “And I have been more than reasonable with you.”
“And you'll keep on being reasonable,” Rahm drawled. “Or the gloves will come off.”
“If you think that you can just sit where you are and threaten me, Mister Emanuel-”
“You two. Shut the hell up.” Dresden suddenly growled, and the temperature even dropped a considerable notch, etched by Winter's mantle. “Marcone, all Emanuel really wants is for you to keep helping out kids and underprivileged schools. And possibly exercising more control over the Outfit, especially over human exploitation. Emanuel, Marcone's a bit of a control freak. He loves certainty.” The wizard flushed a little when he realized that both Marcone and Rahm were staring at him as though he'd just grown another pair of ears. “What? I've been keeping my ears open while shuttling between your offices. Stars and stones. Just because things happen to catch fire around me doesn't mean I'm totally oblivious.”
In the chilly silence that ensued, Rahm shuffled his mind through myriad sets of different scenarios, many of which involved making a quick getaway out from the pub and back onto his home ground.
And then Marcone exhaled loudly. “As much as I... Mister Emanuel, is what Dresden is saying correct?”
Ah, hell. “In a badly abused nutshell, sure. I meant it when I said that I don't have the budget to deal with you right now. If you're good, I might never really get around to doing anything about it.” It went against his grain as a politician, but Chicago was beginning to lean heavily on him, even through the interference, all dissonant notes that faded into neutral once he finished speaking. Pushy, pushy. She didn't like her favorites fighting.
“Perhaps then we have come to an understanding.” Marcone said, his tone a fraction warmer than before. After that concession, the rest of lunch was less like take two of the Cold War, and more akin to something even... friendly. Rahm wasn't entirely sure he liked it, however much Chicago was purring in the back of his mind, but if anything, just like his city, he was adaptable.
postscript.
Hendricks stepped neatly into his way when Harry marched up towards the door of Marcone's office, and he scowled. “Cujo, I'm not in the mood. One of your boss' warehouses just sprouted evil man-eating tomato monsters.” The police, Murphy included, had spent most of the time between dodging angry possessed vegetables in rehashing ancient movie one-liners, and Harry's brain was considerably shot for the day.
“The boss is busy,” Hendricks said firmly, and stepped again when Harry tried to walk around him.
“Don't make me hurt you, man,” Harry warned, straightening up, then he blinked when he heard a sudden, sharp moan, muffled from the heavy door of Marcone's office, followed by a laugh and a deep rasping purr of pleasure. Suddenly thankful that the walls were old-fashioned and opaque, Harry blanched. “Uh. Maybe I'll come back later.”
“You do that, Dresden,” Hendricks said evenly, apparently unfazed as to how his boss seemed to be spending his afternoon.
Just as Harry had edged towards the lifts, there was another laugh, then a familiar growl. “Rahm, if you don't start moving... fuck-!”
Red-faced, Harry stepped smartly into the lift and jammed the 'G' button. He was going to have to spend his afternoon nursing a pint.
-fin... quick fin. ^^;; There are a few other prompts on this meme that look great, but I won't get any writing done for a while once Dragon Age finally comes out in Australia (Thursday!) Hope OP enjoyed this anyway-
This was totally awesome! I just feel bad for Harry; he's been left out. I just hope that John's and Rahm's next work project together is how to get Harry to join them :)
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timeasmymeasure
Architect [3/?]
Date: 2011-03-05 03:21 pm (UTC)Harry was still working on getting a new office; his new rental apartment was a tad higher than the previous one, possibly because he had pets. The Warden stipend had stopped now that he was the Winter Knight, but he wasn't yet desperate enough to try and get some sort of pay from Mab or Maeve. That meant odd jobbing again. To a certain extent, what with Chicago being quieter of late on the arcane front and Mab occupied in resolving a recent, minor border dispute with the Erlking, mundane exorcisms and pet retrievals felt... restful.
He was walking out of the bank, a fresh couple of thousand in his account, when one of Marcone's black cars slid to a halt against the pavement. Pointedly, Harry ignored it, turning sharply to his left, but the window to the passenger seat scrolled down.
“Harry.” Marcone said, his tone amiable where his eyes remained coolly neutral. “Lunch?”
“No thanks.” Harry continued walking, and the black car kept up pace at a purring crawl.
“I would like to discuss a mutual acquaintance.”
“We have many. The memory of a handful of them keeps me up at night sometimes.”
“The mayor,” Marcone clarified, his money-green eyes narrowing slightly. “Try not to have me announce this as Accords business.”
Harry grimaced. Mab was not in the best of moods for formalities, right now, and should Marcone truly decide to pull rank, it could prove... embarrassing for Winter, a political, juvenile slight. “Fine.”
Marcone edged to the other side of the car as Harry folded himself carefully into the vehicle, minding his head, and took a mild pleasure in hearing the mobster's Blackberry buzz to a quick death as he did so. Marcone's expression didn't change, slipping the dead device back into an inner suit pocket. “He's the White Council's new Warden. That makes him the Council's representative in Chicago.”
“Yes, and yes.” Harry shrugged. “Stepped on your toes already?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Marcone admitted quietly. “That earth... magic that he did, how powerful is he?”
“Frankly? I have no idea. What he seems to be able to do – from what I've heard – it isn't possible.” Harry had managed to call through to Ebe yesterday, but his mentor had also been a little vague on the topic. “Apparently it's hereditary.”
“I've made enquiries about his brothers. There are no reports on any sort of arcane use by any of them.”
“So they've been careful.” Harry said, attempting to sound bored. “It's not uncommon. Most practitioners try to fit in as normal people. Many of them succeed.”
“But mages at a Senior Council level?” Marcone shot back.
“Less likely, but it's happened before,” Harry allowed. “Why the sudden curiosity? Finally found another wizard in your backyard to pester?”
“We've met,” Marcone said, after a studied pause, as though he was deliberating how much to tell Harry.
“And he told you to listen up, or pack up?” Harry guessed. He'd been around to act (perhaps ironically) as a mediator when Emanuel had met Lily and Fix, but as it turned out, he hadn't really been needed – Summer apparently had no further plans for Chicago at present, and Emanuel could be very charming and expletive-free when he wanted to be.
“In essence.” Marcone inclined his head, his expression a little distant. “After Miss Gard explained the potential nature of the mayor's abilities to me, I thought it expedient to make a few overtures.”
“And?”
“He hasn't responded well.”
“Dead fish in the post?” Harry had done some belated homework.
“Severed heads of stuffed toy horses in the post.”
Harry swallowed a guffaw, but he couldn't help grinning at Marcone's pinched expression. “The retired ballerina has a sense of humor.”
“This isn't amusing to me, Dresden. I don't appreciate being threatened.”
“What did he tell you to do? Get out of town?”
“He told me to scale down on, or get rid of, some of our most lucrative venues of income,” Marcone said flatly. “And to stock the schools of low income neighborhoods with decent libraries. I have conceded to the latter.”
“But not to the former.” Harry concluded. “And he wasn't satisfied?”
“I'm not certain,” Marcone said, with a faint edge to his tone. “He refuses to take any calls, and so far it has not been possible to contact him.”
Emanuel was playing with the tiger. Either the man wasn't aware of how dangerous the Baron of Chicago could be, or he didn't care. Harry wasn't sure which option had more potential for disaster. “I don't have much sympathy for you, by the way. Saving criminal enterprises isn't exactly on my 'to do' list.”
“I wasn't asking for sympathy, Dresden. I need your assistance in acting as a courier to pass a message to Mister Emanuel. Tell him that I would like to negotiate terms. A neutral venue is preferred. McAnally's, if possible.”
“And if he says no?”
“I am well aware of his status as the White Council's representative.” Marcone said, his mouth set in a thin line. “But there are many ways that I could make his tenure as Chicago's mayor very difficult for him, politically. Tell him that.”
“Somehow I'm not sure that threatening him in return is a very good idea.” Particularly since Harry wasn't very sure if Emanuel might decide to shoot the messenger. “Besides, what makes you think that I'm going to help you? I hope this doesn't come as some sort of shock, but maybe, just maybe, I'd also rather that criminals scale down on being criminals.”
Marcone stared at Harry thoughtfully for a long, silent moment, then he said, flatly, “Are you so certain of his motives?”
“You mean, his motives in getting you to stop drug trafficking, racketeering, or whatever it is mobsters do in the twenty-first century? Gee,” Harry said sarcastically, “I wonder what that could be. Maybe we should try 'common decency'.”
“And could you ever apply that phrase to a politician?”
“I'm not sure, but I'm pretty certain it doesn't apply to members of the Outfit,” Harry shot back, though his conscience stung him immediately for the retort. Marcone wasn't exactly totally lacking in that area, after all. Mafia business aside. “Look. I'll get your message to Emanuel. But I'm not going to be responsible in any way for his response. And I'm not going to take sides in whatever beef you guys have between you.”
“You would still trust in your White Council? After all that has happened?”
“Nope. But given 'all that has happened' to me up to date, I'm always willing to give someone the benefit of doubt. Stop the car, Marcone. I'm walking.”
“At least allow me to drop you outside-”
“I'm not your lap dog. I have other things to do right now,” Harry retorted. “I'll get around to talking to Emanuel when I have time. Stop the damned car.”
“Very well,” Marcone said, though his tone was considerably frostier. “Thank you in advance, Dresden.”
Rahm was wrapping up a budget meeting when Marci sidled into the room with a message that Harry Dresden was in his office. Barking out final instructions to staffers, he nodded at her and marched out of the meeting rooms, shaking his head when she tried to help him with the folders of service contract copies in his arms.
Billy and Dresden were talking quietly in his office when he strode in and dumped the files at his desk. “I have about fifteen minutes before I have to have lunch with Hilliard, so make it quick.”
Billy glanced at Dresden, then at Rahm, then he nodded and filed out of the room with Marci when Rahm inclined his head. Dresden narrowed his eyes at this, but made no comment, instead tossing a stuffed plush toy horse at him. “Thought I'd save you some time.”
Rahm turned the horse briefly over, then connected the dots. “What did Marcone have to say for himself?”
Dresden grinned at him, though his posture remained wary, tense. “That he'll like to negotiate terms, and that he'd been good. Did you do something to him in the park? Hunt him down with the pack and tie him to a chair?”
“Stop watching gay porn, Dresden,” Rahm said dryly, smirking as Dresden reddened in indignation, stalking over to his desk and rummaging in the drawer for the scissors. “Did he agree to everything else?”
“Nope.” Dresden took a few deep breaths, then seemed to decide that an outburst wasn't worth it. “Said he could make your life as mayor very difficult.”
Deliberately, Rahm snipped the head off the toy horse at the shoulders, and tossed the rest of the carcass into the bin. “If you see him, tell him to give me his best shot. I'll have this posted to him later. Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.” Dresden seemed pleased. “I don't need to warn you about playing with fire, do I?”
“Can't be worse than wrangling the motherfucking Senate.” Rahm opened the first of the folders onto his desk.
“Want me to be there when you talk to him?”
“What makes you think I'll talk to him?” Rahm glanced up, though he smirked again.
“You're a politician. You might not like what he does, but you think you need to use him, especially since the city's broke. Otherwise you probably would have found a way to get rid of him in the park.” Dresden wasn't as stupid as the Merlin seemed to think. “You're just waiting to see whether he'll cave first.”
“Getting rid of Marcone would cause far too many problems,” Rahm admitted. “Not only because of the Accords. Besides, I'm not entirely sure that She'll let me.”
“Who?” Dresden asked, blankly, then he frowned. “You're talking about Chicago?”
“He's one of Her favorites, believe it or not.” Rahm said, making a face. “Can't always understand Her.” Genius loci didn't exactly entertain finer emotions, not the way that people understood it, but for want of a better word, Chicago had felt... confused, when Rahm had silently instructed Her to shake up the mob boss in the park. She'd obeyed anyway, with a underground rumble, but it was the very least of what She could have done to frighten someone.
“That's... that's... Hell's bells,” Dresden said, wide-eyed. “What about me?”
“The next time She's up to providing me with an impression, I'll let you know.” Rahm said, a little evasively. Actually, now that he'd linked back up with the city after the stunt outside the werewolves' den, the version of intellectus that the family blood allowed was pretty obvious on Chicago's opinion of Harry Dresden. But it was never a very good idea, politically or otherwise, to let someone know that you couldn't hurt them, at least until it was unavoidable, by which time any politician worth his salt would already have tried to tide that someone over. “The Sergeant mentioned that you used to have a retainer with the police.”
“Used to.”
“I'll have that reinstated if you assist Special Investigations whenever they need it.” Rahm flipped the pages on the folder until he got to the police budget. It was strung thin, but he could see a few ways just offhand to get more out of it. “Salaried.”
“I won't be bought, Emanuel.”
“You're not. If the Sergeant so much as complains about you, consider yourself fired.” Rahm shot back. “Now go and see if she needs coffee or fucking donuts.”
“I have a job already,” Dresden said mulishly, though he backed a couple of steps to the door.
“I've heard. Problem?”
“Bite me,” Dresden snapped, and stormed out, making the overhead lights fizzle briefly.
Rahm waited until he could hear the distant sound of a door slamming shut, then he buzzed Carl the intern. “Get Hilliard and tell him that I'm going to be late for lunch. And mail the stuffed head on my desk to you-know-where. Card? Yeah. Pink Card, with 'Water leakage serious problem in Monroe and Monterfiore. Kennedy Elementary needs renovation. Don't fuck this up, xoxo, bye'. Yes. Word for fucking word.”
Rahm checked his watch, finished the tepid coffee lurking in a corner of his desk, and glanced out of the window. The black car was carefully positioned away from any flowerpots, but it was right next to a fire hydrant. Smirking to himself, Rahm reached for the nearest wall.
-tbc... not sure where I'm going with this really. A Rahm/Marcone? Hm. Will make the next few chapters less seemingly one-sided. Marcone is canonically highly resourceful, after all.-
Re: Architect [3/?]
Date: 2011-03-05 04:29 pm (UTC)Harry playing the messenger can either make things better, as he's the only one who could do it without being intimidated to death by this two, or it could backfire. Playing the messenger between two people who are poking at each other is dangerous.
lol at the reference to The Godfather
I'm voting for Rahm/Marcone/Harry threesome, if votes are allowed. XD
writeranon says
Date: 2011-03-05 11:39 pm (UTC)At the definite risk of de-anoning, I've already done a R/M/H 3some... but the story does seem to be working out there. Maybe if OP has an opinion?
Re: Architect [3/?]
Date: 2011-03-05 05:08 pm (UTC)Re: Architect [3/?]
Date: 2011-03-05 09:53 pm (UTC)You are killing me with this. Not just well written, but also turning the prompt around like this, having Marcone be somebody who can simultaneously be interested improving schools but isn't interested in scaling back drugs (complex, not a simple misunderstood hero). I love it.
writeranon says
Date: 2011-03-05 11:47 pm (UTC)I don't exactly see Marcone as a 'hero' type of character in the books, which makes him far more interesting to me to write. :3
Architect [4/4]
Date: 2011-03-08 10:37 am (UTC)After weeks of shuttling between what Harry had begun to think of as the “Emanuel” and “Marcone” camps, Harry's exasperation finally reached boiling point.
Thankfully, it did so in the potentially less lethal environment of Emanuel's office rather than a mob boss' domain, particularly since Emanuel was also aware of the murder crime scene that Harry had been called in to look at this morning. Waking up to being dragged across town on a frosty morning to look at disembowelled bodies really soured Harry's day. Having to deal with Marcone's icy mood, and then finally, Emanuel's particularly bitchy one this afternoon had been the last straw.
“I've had it with being your delivery boy for your games of gay chicken,” Harry snapped, the overhead lights flickering, the Blackberry's appointment notification burble coming to an abrupt halt. “If you have anything else to discuss with Marcone, go and talk to him yourself!” He tossed the heart-shaped box of chocolates onto the table, which failed to land in a dramatic fashion, being a violent pink in hue.
“Whoah there.” Emanuel drawled, folding his arms and leaning his chair back precariously onto the back legs. “If you're feeling left out, I'll just tell Johnny to cut down. You can have the chocolates.”
“I don't want the chocolates!” That hadn't been precisely what Harry had wanted to say, and he took a deep breath when Emanuel smirked, counting silently to ten. The shrill buzz from the computer faded. “The two of you are acting like high school kids.”
“It's all strategy, Dresden,” Emanuel disagreed. “Marcone's gone along with everything I've asked for so far.”
“He's losing patience.”
“He seems to have a lot of patience to lose.”
“Sooner or later he's going to find out that you can't hurt him,” Harry countered. “What then?”
“Harry, I'm a Warden,” Emanuel said patiently. “We've gotten around not breaking the Laws of Magic for centuries.”
“I don't see you carrying a sword around.” Harry said, though he recognised a weak argument when he said one. Just because the genius loci didn't want to hurt Marcone didn't mean that Emanuel didn't know any other sort of spells – and if he truly had been a Warden before, he wouldn't even really need them. “And he has a valkyrie with him.”
“Sigrun? We've met. In the park,” Emanuel added, when Harry arched both his eyebrows. “I'm not that fucking old, thank you very fucking much.”
“I wasn't going to say anything,” Harry said quickly. “But seriously. You guys should work things out before something implodes. If you're lucky, it might not even be my fault. Hell's bells, why am I the one acting as the adult?”
“Because Marcone has a soft spot for you. Less likely to shoot the messenger,” Emanuel grinned his sharkish grin when Harry sputtered, leaning back further to pat the wall pointedly. “I'm in the know, remember? How many times has he shown up to save your bony ass?”
“Bite me,” Harry scowled. This wasn't one of his favorite topics, and he'd long chalked it down to Marcone being very single minded about wanting to employ him. Or something. “You don't see him sending me heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.”
“I'll drop him a note. Dresden, calm the fuck down. Deep breaths. Okay. Start thinking. So far we've had some libraries put in, and some schools that were fucking public liability disasters renovated. Right?”
“Right.” Harry said warily.
“And did Marcone complain at all about having to do it? About how it's burning a hole in the pockets of his Armani pants? About how he has better things to do than spend money on public schools which have leaks that have the potential to electrocute unsuspecting kiddies?”
“No. He usually complains about how you're not budging on wanting him to scale down on his operations.”
“And other than the very first time in the park, have I brought up his operations on any notes?”
“You've sent him those severed toy heads,” Harry noted, after a moment spent searching his memory.
“And?”
“Nothing else,” Harry said, reluctantly. “So what?”
“So, once Marcone realizes it, we're actually in a mutually beneficial system,” Emanuel clapped his hands together with a sharp snap that made Harry flinch. “He does some things with his money to help kids – subject close to his heart, I hear. I get to look as though I'm being tough on the Outfit, if anyone starts nosing around - without actually having to be. And when I replace Hilliard, it won't be with someone who has mob-busting right on top of his 'to-do' list.”
So it was Chicago politics as usual after all. Harry felt... disappointed, somehow. “So you weren't serious about stopping the drug trade and trafficking.”
“Harry, if getting rid of Marcone could stop the drug trade, I'd do it in a heartbeat.” Emanuel said, with a touch of impatience. “But whatever the government, federal or state, wants, the drug trade, trafficking, brothels, money laundering, casino skimming... organised crime is here to stay. Spend money and time beating them down however much you want, you'll just end up with more and more collateral damage. Public prosecutors, police, judges and their families. I'm thinking of a better solution.”
“A better solution?”
“Having all of the Outfit and its factions controlled by just one man – that hasn't happened for a while. Marcone has a no-children rule that he enforces with an iron fist in all of his operations. There has to be a workable way to get him to enforce some others. Take brothels, for example. You've seen street hookers before, I'm sure, and those abused trailer park girls. If Marcone could exercise more top-down control, make sure that the girls aren't strung out on drugs or runaways who'd gotten into bad company, that's going to take some of the load off the Vice department.”
“And in the meantime, you'll funnel all this dirty money into building schools.”
“I've been in investment banking and the federal government, Dresden. Money's money. There's no other shade of it than green. Government takes communist money,” Emanuel shrugged. “Wherever the money came from, if some schools get fixed by anonymous charities and if the crime rate starts becoming manageable, that frees up the state budget for other concerns.”
“I still don't see what you're going to trade with him to get him to do all this for you,” Harry said, skeptical.
“And what did you trade him such that he's willing to pull your ass out of the fire whenever you want?”
“I didn't...!”
“The man's obsessed with mages,” Emanuel pointed out. “Magic fascinates him. I bet he's real disappointed that you chose to bind yourself to Ice Bitch rather than to him.”
“She had immediate benefits at the time,” Harry grit out. “Also, she wasn't my first choice. Obsessed with mages or not, I don't think you're doing this right.”
“So what do you think that I should do?” Emanuel spread his hands wide. “Send some fucking chocolates back?”
“Just talk to him. Somewhere neutral. I don't like your methods but I can appreciate some of your motives. So I'll prefer to see this become a long term thing, rather than something that burns your house down in a month or so when he's done playing along.”
“Okay, Dresden,” Emanuel said, slapping a palm on the table. “You win. Pick a time, pick a place, I'll be there.”
“Great.” Harry said, relieved. “So you can be reasonable after all.”
“Don't fucking get used to it.”
About an hour or so later and on his way back to the precinct to talk to Murphy, Harry entertained a brief, nagging thought that Emanuel had seemed to have agreed a little too easily.
Rahm had nothing against McAnally's – it served a great microbrew and sandwiches – but perhaps because of the way the pub was built, or because of the neutral ground that it had been awarded, it always felt as though he was stepping right out of Chicago whenever he walked into the pub. He could still feel Her around the edges, humming in his peripheral senses with discontent, and he didn't doubt that if She really wanted to she could probably reach him through the layers of enchantment, but felt a little like what walking through a very strong threshold would feel like for a wizard.
For the Emanuel clan, of course, stepping out of Chicago more or less brought on the same impression, and he was used to it. Distracted on making sure that Chicago was keeping an eye on anyone who might have a camera or recording device, Rahm nearly walked right into Dresden, who flinched, startled.
“Emanuel. You're early.”
“Scoping out the grounds,” Rahm said, as Dresden sat himself down at a corner table. He could already see several over the other tables hurriedly finishing whatever they were having and filing out. Apparently Dresden was bad news here – not that it seemed to bother the barkeeper. “You do realize that this is a private place, and if I'm seen having lunch with a mobster it isn't going to be a walk in the fucking park press-wise, right?”
“I'm sure She's paying attention on your behalf,” Dresden shot back. “And relax, photographs don't turn out too well when I'm around.”
They ordered sandwiches and a couple of microbrews and settled down to wait. Dresden was chatty when he'd had a little good alcohol, and he was telling Rahm all about the unlikely murder investigation that he'd been called into, and how he was pretty sure that he was close to a solution. Given that no public property had caught fire yet, Rahm wasn't too sure, but finding out that an investment was doing well was always good for his mood.
Marcone appeared perfectly on time, and frowned slightly when he realized that he was late. His bodyguard moved back to hover behind him, trying to watch the entire room and his boss' back at the same time through some feat of vanilla human concentration, and Rahm leaned back in his chair, briefly entertaining the notion of having Chicago puncture Marcone's tyres outside.
She fed a note of discontent back up at him, and the thought subsided reluctantly. “Nicer than the park, isn't it, Johnny?” Rahm asked, smirking, when Marcone settled down at the opposite end of the table. The tiger was seething, which suited Rahm fine – people had a little less good judgment when they were pissed off.
“I was told that we were going to broker a truce,” Marcone glanced over at Dresden, who shrugged.
“How else was I going to wrangle you into coming here?”
“Dresden-”
“Whoah, whoah.” Rahm raised his hands, palms up. “Gentlemen. Dresden, you gave me the impression that Johnny here wanted to meet up. I'm hurt.”
“I didn't say that.”
Come to think of it, Dresden was right. Bad oversight. “Okay, fine. We can talk terms.”
“Firstly, I want to know why you've been avoiding me.” Marcone said flatly.
“You mean, national headlines aside? Possibly all involving fucking terrible puns about my name and the Outfit?”
“I can be discreet.” Marcone's eyes narrowed. “And I have been more than reasonable with you.”
“And you'll keep on being reasonable,” Rahm drawled. “Or the gloves will come off.”
“If you think that you can just sit where you are and threaten me, Mister Emanuel-”
“You two. Shut the hell up.” Dresden suddenly growled, and the temperature even dropped a considerable notch, etched by Winter's mantle. “Marcone, all Emanuel really wants is for you to keep helping out kids and underprivileged schools. And possibly exercising more control over the Outfit, especially over human exploitation. Emanuel, Marcone's a bit of a control freak. He loves certainty.” The wizard flushed a little when he realized that both Marcone and Rahm were staring at him as though he'd just grown another pair of ears. “What? I've been keeping my ears open while shuttling between your offices. Stars and stones. Just because things happen to catch fire around me doesn't mean I'm totally oblivious.”
In the chilly silence that ensued, Rahm shuffled his mind through myriad sets of different scenarios, many of which involved making a quick getaway out from the pub and back onto his home ground.
And then Marcone exhaled loudly. “As much as I... Mister Emanuel, is what Dresden is saying correct?”
Ah, hell. “In a badly abused nutshell, sure. I meant it when I said that I don't have the budget to deal with you right now. If you're good, I might never really get around to doing anything about it.” It went against his grain as a politician, but Chicago was beginning to lean heavily on him, even through the interference, all dissonant notes that faded into neutral once he finished speaking. Pushy, pushy. She didn't like her favorites fighting.
“Perhaps then we have come to an understanding.” Marcone said, his tone a fraction warmer than before. After that concession, the rest of lunch was less like take two of the Cold War, and more akin to something even... friendly. Rahm wasn't entirely sure he liked it, however much Chicago was purring in the back of his mind, but if anything, just like his city, he was adaptable.
Hendricks stepped neatly into his way when Harry marched up towards the door of Marcone's office, and he scowled. “Cujo, I'm not in the mood. One of your boss' warehouses just sprouted evil man-eating tomato monsters.” The police, Murphy included, had spent most of the time between dodging angry possessed vegetables in rehashing ancient movie one-liners, and Harry's brain was considerably shot for the day.
“The boss is busy,” Hendricks said firmly, and stepped again when Harry tried to walk around him.
“Don't make me hurt you, man,” Harry warned, straightening up, then he blinked when he heard a sudden, sharp moan, muffled from the heavy door of Marcone's office, followed by a laugh and a deep rasping purr of pleasure. Suddenly thankful that the walls were old-fashioned and opaque, Harry blanched. “Uh. Maybe I'll come back later.”
“You do that, Dresden,” Hendricks said evenly, apparently unfazed as to how his boss seemed to be spending his afternoon.
Just as Harry had edged towards the lifts, there was another laugh, then a familiar growl. “Rahm, if you don't start moving... fuck-!”
Red-faced, Harry stepped smartly into the lift and jammed the 'G' button. He was going to have to spend his afternoon nursing a pint.
-fin... quick fin. ^^;; There are a few other prompts on this meme that look great, but I won't get any writing done for a while once Dragon Age finally comes out in Australia (Thursday!) Hope OP enjoyed this anyway-
Re: Architect [4/4]
Date: 2011-03-08 07:17 pm (UTC)Re: Architect [4/4]
Date: 2011-03-08 10:01 pm (UTC)Re: Architect [4/4]
Date: 2011-03-09 07:57 pm (UTC)Re: Architect [4/4]
Date: 2011-03-12 03:11 pm (UTC)Also? Dragon Age II is *amazing*.
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Date: 2015-03-06 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-20 05:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-12 09:27 pm (UTC)