12. The Numbers Meeting

Chapter Twelve

Mercedes, Number One

Roanoke City, Strike County

Mercedes shut the door to his red Mustang, once his father’s car, parked front and center at the doors to the barn in Orchard County. Only four other cars were there. Ranger’s yellow Corvette was parked next to a midnight-maroon and cream Dodge Charger complete with Raymond state trooper markings and a light bar on top. A jagged yellow paint line struck through the word “State” on both sides of the car. On the other side of the cruiser was Legend’s gold 1960s Jaguar. Perpendicular to the Jaguar was a white Camaro with red racing stripes.

Taboo was late to the last Numbers meeting, Mercedes thought, unconcerned by the Tenth County Number’s tardiness. But Wolfie….

Bronze wouldn’t have been late. He had always been the first to arrive and usually the last to leave.

Shaking his head, Mercedes moved across the dust covered driveway towards the open barn doors. A flickering old yellow bulb cast an orb of light through the opening and into the night. Mercedes could hear voices drifting out of the barn’s interior. With a kick to the dusty ground, he stopped in the doorway.

Four of the Numbers faced each other in a loose square. The man with his back to Mercedes turned around, light shimmering off of the police badge attached to his lapel. This was the only time Mercedes’ heart didn’t drop at the sight of a uniformed Raymond state trooper. He didn’t have to inspect the name plate to know that any identifying information had been scratched off.

“If it’s not the man of the hour,” Sheriff said. “We were just talking about you.”

“Of course,” Mercedes said, tone suggesting the eye roll he did not give. “It’s never a good idea when you and Ranger get in a room together.”

Ranger dipped his head.

“Are we ready to get started here I have somewhere to be in the morning bright and early and I’d rather not be late at all you know unlike some people you were almost late yourself Mercedes but now Wolfie and Taboo are like late late and I guess we can’t really get started without—”

“Blood!” Ranger and Sheriff shouted at once.

“Gods, we just got him to shut up,” Sheriff said, wiping the back of his tan-skinned hand across his forehead.

“Hmph,” Blood said, flicking bleach blond hair out of his face. He turned to Legend as if seeking support but decided against saying anything at the older man’s blank stare.

“Where are Two and Seven?” Mercedes asked.

Ranger shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect that newbie to be on time but Wolfie’s usually here.” His brow drew together as his gaze hardened.

“Taboo has never been on time to anything the seven months he’s been a Number,” Sheriff said.

“Let’s go up, anyway,” Mercedes said. “We should get started.”

Legend nodded and opened an arm up towards the rickety ladder propped up in the middle of the room and leading to the loft. Grumbling under his breath, Blood stomped over to the ladder and began climbing.

Over the sound of the creaking of old wood, Mercedes heard an engine rumbling in the distance outside. He turned his head towards the barn door as a set of headlights came up between the rows of cornstalks towards the barn. “You took care of OCR, right?” Mercedes asked without turning to look at Legend.

“There’s a fire blazing on the other side of the county,” Legend said in answer.

“He asked about the police department,” Ranger said as Sheriff moved to follow Blood up the ladder. “Not the fire department.”

“Only one police officer is usually necessary at a fire scene unless it’s arson,” Sheriff added, pausing on the ground beside the ladder.

“If an emergency like that occurs in this county, all agencies respond,” Legend said, flat tone causing Ranger to kick angrily over to the ladder. He started up it before Sheriff had even reached the top. “It can’t support that much weight.”

Ranger snorted, but didn’t stop climbing.

Mercedes turned away from them to peer back outside. The car was closer now and Mercedes recognized the engine sound as that of a Dodge Challenger. He didn’t have to go outside to know that it would be of the Sublime green paint job. He waited near the barn door as the engine died and a car door slammed.

“Wolfie usually comes first,” Legend said.

“I know,” Mercedes said as the cocky Number Seven sauntered into the barn.

He tossed his head towards Mercedes and Legend in greeting, a large stupid grin covering his face. Bronze’s grin had always been large and stupid, but dopey stupid and not cocky stupid, like Taboo. “Am I late?” Taboo asked even though Mercedes was fairly certain that he already knew the answer.

“Just hustle to the loft,” Mercedes said. “We’re trying to get started.”

“Someone’s car isn’t here,” Taboo said as he began climbing the ladder.

Mercedes stepped into the door way and looked around the quiet cornfield. He could swear he saw the highway on the dark horizon, but with no cars going by in either direction, he couldn’t be sure. Mercedes grabbed one of the doors and pulled it closed while Legend did the same on the other side.

“I guess it’s Wolfie,” Taboo’s voice came down from the loft as Mercedes and Legend went towards the ladder together. The floor boards creaked above their heads as the Numbers moved around the loft.

“After you,” Legend said.

Nodding, Mercedes mounted the ladder himself and hauled his lanky body through the opening. A single bare light bulb hung down in the middle of the loft, its dull light casting long shadows throughout the space. The Numbers hovered nearby to the hole leading back down into the barn as Mercedes kicked his way through loose straw over to a horseshoe shape formed by bales of hay.

The group followed him over. Mercedes leaned back against a pile of hay bales nearly as tall as he was as the Numbers sat down on the bales around him. The bale on Mercedes’ far right was empty without Wolfie there. Otherwise, the group was seated in orchestra fashion, moving down the rankings as Mercedes’ eyes scanned from right to left.

“I have two matters to cover,” Mercedes said.

“The Scrap and the Bash right?” Taboo asked on Mercedes’ far left. The thirty-something-year-old was nearly bouncing up and down on his hay bale.

Mercedes narrowed his gaze. “No, actually.”

“Your new status?” Sheriff asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What about Melvin Chase’s victory?” Ranger added, throwing a glare in the direction of his longstanding rival, Sheriff.

Blood took a deep breath. “Oh I think I heard about that Mercedes’ name was added to the most wanted list or something just days before the presidential election do I sense a scandal I think—”

“Enough,” Mercedes said. He reached in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a folded up packet of paper. “First, I wanted to comment on the presidential election. And apologize to Ranger for brushing off his concerns previously.”

“I told you,” Ranger said.

“Cat is doing a research project about Chase’s roadblock initiative for school,” Mercedes said. “He gave me this article from an online newspaper but I don’t see that he’s going to be able to come up with much real information about what this thing is.”

“You’d rely on data gathered by the kid?” Sheriff asked.

Mercedes shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’s why I’m asking one of you guys to delve farther into this. Legend, you ought to be able to get something out of Gossip. And maybe you can get something from your law enforcement background, Sheriff?”

Sheriff shrugged. “Uhh, I don’t think so,” he said. “I got the look but no connections like that.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Mercedes said.

“Can I see that?” Ranger asked. He waved his hand in the direction of the paper Mercedes held.

Mercedes crossed over to Number Three and handed him the news article Alcatraz had provided to him. He watched as Ranger’s eyes scanned the sheet before stepping back to the hay bale wall.

“Let me do it,” Ranger said.

“Do what?” Sheriff asked, turning to the left to glare down his nose at Ranger. He lifted the cream-colored Stetson trooper hat off of his head and set it on Ranger’s. Sheriff’s short, curly black-brown hair was revealed with the motion, including the spot where his hair was thinning.

Without flinching, Ranger shoved the article in Sheriff’s face. “This,” he said like the hat wasn’t even there. Bronze had loved it when Sheriff did that. “Let me poke around about the roadblock.” He turned his gaze to Mercedes. “You owe me that much.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so interested in politics but fine,” Mercedes said. “If you think you can dig up specifics, then so be it.”

Ranger folded the article up and tucked it into the interior of his shirt. “Absolutely,” he said.

“Next,” Mercedes said.

“The Scrap and the Bash?” Taboo asked.

“No,” Mercedes said. “These things happen to be more important than that.”

“You’re going to let a presidential election stop us from having our largest events of the year?” Taboo asked.

“My name has been added to the FBI’s Most Wanted list,” Mercedes said, ignoring Number Seven’s comment.

Mercedes hated rookie Numbers. It didn’t matter how old they were or how long they had been racing, all rookie Numbers acted the same. It was as if they were eager to prove themselves worthy to Mercedes. Taboo had been indoctrinated into the Numbers on a technicality. He had been a czar of Tenth County when its Number representative died in a sudden accident. Taboo had been the one to report the tragedy and so Mercedes appointed him as the new Tenth County Number, defaulting him to Seven as he hadn’t fairly made a challenge to earn the title. It wasn’t that Mercedes had trusted Taboo better than the other two Tenth czars. Mercedes had seen the man race against all of the Tenth czars and then the best czar out of every county at last year’s winter events. Despite his obnoxious attitude, Taboo had a strong set of racing skills.

“You’re third on that list,” Sheriff said. “The way I hear it.”

“They also don’t have your legal name on file,” Ranger said. He lifted the trooper hat off of his head and returned it to Sheriff’s. Sheriff grabbed the brim and dipped it down over his brow before taking it off and putting it in his lap.

“If they do, they haven’t released it,” Mercedes agreed. “I’m having one of my czars look into the situation.”

“Pop?” Ranger asked. “How’s Espresso doing?”

“Now’s not the time,” Mercedes said wanting to shove Ranger back down the ladder at the mention of Espresso. “He’s a Strike County racer now and no longer your business.”

“Sore spot,” Sheriff said, elbowing Ranger in the ribs. The hat nearly fell out of his lap.

“Quiet,” Legend said from Sheriff’s other side. Mercedes wondered why the apathetic older man even bothered to reprimand the two when they both knew that Legend didn’t care.

“Was that just an FYI?” Taboo asked. “Cause I’m not sure how you being added to the FBI’s list is applicable to me.”

“If anything happens to the crew leader, it is applicable to you,” Ranger growled in response before Mercedes could even turn to look at Taboo.

“A Raymond native has never been on that list,” Sheriff said. “I think the field office is going to be swarming with veteran and rookie agents alike. The streets will be crawling with law enforcement, and not just those of the street racing task forces. I don’t think that there will be a single race in Strike County, at least, that isn’t broken apart by law enforcement in the coming months.”

“If Mercedes is at risk, our way of life is at risk,” Blood said, surprising everyone when he stopped at the remark and said nothing more.

“It means, Number Seven,” Mercedes said, thankful for the support of his crew, “that there will be no more Number Challenges until further notice. I can’t jeopardize the integrity of our organization without knowing what impact this most wanted status will have.”

“And the roadblock too, I hope,” Ranger said.

Mercedes nodded. “Right,” he said.

“So, by no more Number Challenges, you’re referring to new challenges by czars, right?” Taboo asked. “And not duels between Numbers?”

Mercedes had to pause at that. His aim was to freeze new racers from entering his closest ranks, much with the czar challenges. Would it really matter if his Numbers moved around within themselves? Besides, if it was Taboo making the challenge, Mercedes didn’t see it bearing any fruit worth concerning himself with. Taboo had been skillful in a race against czars but most of the Numbers, Mercedes knew, were far out of Taboo’s league. Mercedes shook his head. “I suppose not,” he said despite his irritation with the rookie Number. “A straight Number to Number duel should be fine.”

Taboo launched to his feet then and jabbed his index finger in the direction of Blood. “In that case, I, Taboo of Tenth County and Number Seven of Raymond, challenge you, Blood of Gin County and Number Six in Raymond, to a duel for rank,” he said.

Ranger snickered as Sheriff said, “Dude, you really don’t need to say all of that.”

“What?” Blood stuttered, somehow rendered speechless.

“Not now,” Mercedes said. “That’s not why—”

“I am following the rules, am I not?” Taboo asked, cutting him off. “I did not challenge Blood on his home turf or mine so it will be a fair challenge. The Number above us is present. We’re in his territory and he can moderate the duel. I know the rules.”

“That wasn’t the issue,” Mercedes said. “I didn’t call this meeting for duels.”

“It really isn’t an issue, Number One,” Legend said. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

“He doesn’t have a problem with anything,” Ranger said.

Sheriff leaned close to him and said, “Who wants to challenge in the cornfields, anyway?”

“Don’t I get a say in this there’s absolutely no way that I am shying away from this challenge Blood is not a coward not at all and I absolutely will accept your challenge Number Seven!” Blood said breathlessly.

Mercedes couldn’t help but smile at the fast talker. Since earning his position among the Numbers, Blood had been stuck at the bottom. He fought tooth and nail every few years to maintain that position when an overzealous czar pinned him as an easy target. When Bronze had died, his vacancy of the Number Three spot had bumped everyone up, giving Blood his first taste at a title higher than Seven.

Mercedes honestly wasn’t surprised that Taboo, having only been a Number for the past seven months, pegged Blood as an easy target. “I can’t argue with that,” Mercedes said. “Approval to defend granted.”