“Like I said, I’d prefer not to lay hands on him if there are other options.”
“Beat the other board members up.”
“They’re not the problem here!”
“Set fire to the hospital.”
Cardin shot Finneas a grimace that said: Not. Helping.
They were sitting on the rooftop of the classroom block, crouched in a corner that shaded them from the sun. Cardin had explained his predicament to Finneas, in the hopes that the other boy would be able to offer a solution he had somehow missed.
Finneas took a bite from the apple in his hand. “Just brainstorming. I thought you might not mind arson, seeing as how you’ve accomplished it once already.”
Cardin sighed, tilting his head back against the wall. Technically, the one who had set the bar on fire back then had been Keary, but that was a minor detail, and not important for Finneas to know at this moment. “I’d rather not risk harming anyone innocent, thanks.”
“Hmm.” Finneas stared into the distance as he chewed leisurely. “Forge the signature.”
“How— Wait, would that work? How would I get hold of the documents?”
Finneas gave him a blank look. “I’m just brainstorming,” he repeated. “My job is just to make suggestions. It’s your job to figure out if you can accomplish it, and how. Or," he added, "steal the money from the asshole and give it to the client.”
Cardin considered the option. He would need to rope Mikka in for some hacking, which wouldn't be a problem for her, but… “I don't think the client would be satisfied with just the money. She wants them to admit that they were in the wrong.” He hung his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “Why is this so difficult?” he groaned.
“It isn’t.”
“What?" The golden head jerked up. "What do you mean?”
Finneas swallowed his mouthful of fruit and blinked slowly at him. “It isn’t difficult. The concept behind extortion is as straightforward as it gets. Inflict pain and fear in order to pressure the target into giving you what you want, otherwise they can expect more. I’m sure you’re bright enough to realise that, at least. The only reason why you’re hesitating is because you’re too soft.”
Affronted by the unflattering appraisal, Cardin protested hotly, “I’m trying to find a way to do this without violence!”
“It will always be violent.” The long-haired boy didn't even bat an eyelid. “People don't come to us with tasks they could accomplish on their own without getting entangled with the authorities, or if they didn't fear retaliation. That usually involves dirty work, and that's why they pay us, so that their hands can stay clean. The only choice you have is who gets hurt: your target, or your client."
"That doesn't mean innocent people have to get hurt in the process!"
"Collateral." Finneas waved a hand dismissively. "You can try your utmost to minimise it, but more often than not it's simply a matter of accepting that our job is to inflict harm on others, regardless of who gets in the way, and getting it done.”
Cardin scowled down at his hands. “I refuse to accept that,” he muttered.
“You’re too tender-hearted.” Finneas took another crunch of apple. “In which case, you really should reconsider being involved with Dagger. Did you think it was going to be all friendly sparring practice and listening to Mikka yap nonsense all day? Keary must have warned you early on, as he did with me. This requires brutality.”
Brutality.
Cardin thought back on the fight he'd had with Keary, the morning he'd returned from bombing the warehouse. The silver-eyed boy had been savage in his desperation to keep Cardin away from all of this, but Cardin had insisted that he wanted in: not merely into Dagger, but into Keary's world.
The warning Finneas had received couldn't have been anything alike. Cardin didn't expect Finneas to understand what was at stake for him, but he couldn't bear to let go of his conviction that there had to be a better way of doing this.
A way less brutal.
Cardin took a breath. “He did. But that doesn't mean—”
“Then why are you faltering?” The pale eyes contemplated the smaller boy, and when Cardin didn’t reply, he continued, “It’s probably a good thing, then, that Keary hasn’t been bringing you along with him. Those raids on the other gangs were not pretty. Well,” he corrected himself, “unless you think Pollock-esque wall art in shades of crimson is pretty, I suppose.”
Cardin's cerulean eyes widened. Finneas's words had shocked him, although he didn't know why. It wasn’t like he hadn't witnessed Keary kill before, when he'd rescued Cardin from the kidnapper. But perhaps because Cardin had been fighting to stay conscious, both then and for a long while afterward, it had never really felt more real than a passing dream.
“Was it a job?”
“Nope. Not to my knowledge.”
“Then what did they do to invite the attacks?” Because they must have done something to deserve it, right?
But Finneas merely shrugged. “Nothing that I know of. But Keary thinks it necessary, therefore it must be so.” He squinted up at the clouds. “If it were him on this job, he'd probably destroy some of your target's property, or cut off a finger or two. Before threatening death or worse."
The blonde’s shoulders slumped. “Must it be that way?” he mumbled helplessly.
“Well, the point is to make sure the target knows you’ll make good on your threats, without you actually doing it. But that usually requires a show of force to make them believe it.”
The bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch break. Finneas rose.
“Just so you know, Dagger is known as one of the best in the business because we’ve never failed to deliver. It would be a pity if you broke our streak over this.” He stepped out from the coolness of their corner and turned toward the stairwell entrance. “Let’s go back. Lessons will start again soon.”
Slowly, Cardin got to his feet, watching his shadow lengthen as he straightened.
"Finn. Why did you join?"
“Me?" Finneas paused in his stride. Winding his arm back, he flung the apple core far, such that it flew past the boundary of the building and dropped out of sight. "I was bored.”
……
