The tunes were as vintage as the car itself; a pink Cadillac convertible with chrome trim and white wall tires. The song wasn't quite one Frankie Valli would sing, nor was it quite Frankie Valli himself, but it was inspired by such blasts from humanity's past.

A fake, an imitation, much like the car playing the tune was.

The desert was real enough; the air hot and dry and dusty enough to steal breath away, to scorch the pipes a creature would use to breath even at the speed traffic was going.

Traffic, all one car of it.

Still, a deep breath of free air never really hurt anyone, and if traffic was oddly light for this city, he supposed he could blame it on the time of day; it was morning. Not the morning of early birds and worms, but the comfortable mid-morning of travel and complimentary continental hotel breakfasts.

And if the birds were circling buzzards rather than doves or hawks, and the life he saw more of the poisonous and aggressive kind than the cute kind, he supposed it all had a place in the grand scheme of things.

The sun might be a touch too bright, I thought and pushed my sunglasses back up my nose. A small dab with the handkerchief in my jacket pocket got rid of most of the sweat. I suppose it still counted as sweat, even if it wasn't like the real, smelly stuff.

Just another fake thing, among the real.

I risked a glance down to check my watch; ten-eleven am; I didn't have much time left. The road was empty; I squeezed the pedal down a bit more, getting another five miles per hour out of the purring engine. As long as a policeman didn't stop me, I had enough time, if only just.

Perhaps I shouldn't have gone for seconds of the continental breakfast; but those pancakes had been to die for, and the syrup had been pure maple from Canada.

It was silly however, expecting police along roads like these however; no one wanted to fry in an enclosed car for half a day watching a road with a radar gun, only to pop someone for going ten miles an hour over the limit.

Or they could be so mad and crazy from the heat, they would use any excuse. It really could go either way. Not that I'd mind; I took people as they were.

The open road turned into outskirts, widening and gaining signs as the city itself grew larger and closer. I pondered again how easy it all was for me to decode, compared to my less developed brethren. Just being able to see as others might was a major achievement for the boss, and showed an attention to detail that put the boss with the greats, not just of this age, but any age.

A person with a vision, a person worthy of following.

Chuckling at my own joke, I kept following the road as it went residential. I needed to turn right when it hit... there. South Casino center boulevard. I needed to follow that until just before the arts district... just before Gass avenue and eclipse theaters.

The place was easy to find, and lucky me, there was a parking spot right out in front. It might even have been planned that way, somehow.

I eased the big car into the spot carefully but quickly, not wanting to disrupt traffic more than I needed to. Fed some quarters in the meter just in time for my watch alarm to go off.

That meant I had five minutes to get to the upper floor of the building in front of me.

A quick check in the mirror to make sure my canary yellow slacks, lime green shirt, red plaid jacket, and black tie were all in order... yep, everything rumpled and creased, but no stains. I was off!

There was no one in the stairwell... so I took the steps two at a time. I wanted even more sweat, just for a little bit, and the stairs would give me all the excuse I needed to be out of breath.

It worked. I reached the door exactly on time - so I waited an extra fifteen seconds before opening it.

"Sorry about that, the elevator didn't want to cooperate with me today," I huffed out.

Waiting in the office that I'd rented, a simple one room affair with a filing cabinet (empty) a desk (also empty), and a standing lamp without a bulb, were my targets. The first was a tall man, young and fit and dressed to take the world by storm in a well cut modern suit done in charcoal grays and blacks.

The other was the real fun; an older man, shaped more like I was than his compatriot, and even thinner on the top of his head than I was. What was left was gray and bristly, windblown. He wrinkled his face at me, just a little, before pasting on a smile.

Neither so much as commented on me being late. Should I check to see how long they were waiting on me? The card I'd left had been moved, so they had to have been here for at least a minute. At least long enough to take in the seedy atmosphere I'd so carefully looked for on my online searches. The place looked like a noir detective office; I approved.

No, it didn't matter. The older one held his hand out. "Stanley Daniels, representing Lockheed-Martin."

"Shecky Green, representing my client." We shook, and the younger man stepped up.

"Jackson Dernim, lawyer for Lockheed-Martin. I'm here to make sure any decision made is nice and legal, and fair to both parties."

Ha. Pull the other one sonny, it's got bells on.

"Well, why don't we get started then?" I grabbed some folding chairs from the closet and motioned them both to sit. I of course, took the desk chair, making sure it creaked as loudly as possible.

Again, no reaction. Tough crowd.

Jackson pulled a recorder from his suit coat and with a nod from me, turned it on. I had my own device, but they didn't need to know that just yet. The lawyer put the recorder on the desk, then spoke clearly:

"This is a recording of the first meeting of our duly appointed representative of Lockheed Martin, and a Mr. Shecky Green, the agent. Recorded this day of...."

He even gave the date; what a professional!

Stanley Daniels fidgeted in his chair, starting immediately after his lawyer shut up. "Alright, to begin with, we at Lockheed Martin are very interested in your client's new engine modifications. Specifically, the intake and fan assembly."

The intake and fan assembly was actually only a part of the new engine, but the man was revealing something interesting here; they didn't want the entire engine. Rather, they would buy the rights to it if I pressed, but those were the sections they really wanted. How close had they been to discovering the thing on their own?

It wasn't really my place to ask, but it was best to pass on information like that.

The other thing to know was, just like I was testing dear Stanley, Stanley Daniels was testing me. That had been an obvious bread crumb, and from the looks of things he realized I found it when I did.

"Calling those engine modifications is a bit disingenuous, sir. They are part of an overall engine design calculated to increase output while reducing fuel usage. According to the inventor, they can also be easily adapted to fit a variety of power sources, and sized down according to scale."

Mr. Daniels nodded, as if he expected that. "We have investigated that, and found both options plausible."

"About that," Mr. Dernim broke in smoothly, with a slight adjustment to his tie. A tell? "The R&D department of Lockheed Martin has a similar engine in the works, and nearing completion. Can you offer any proof that this isn't some attempt to extort my client after some industrial espionage?"

They thought to rattle me... how cute. "Well, leaving aside the fact that if you believed I was extorting you I'd already be in cuffs and on my way to federal prison awaiting a military trial, I'm willing to bet there are clear differences between my client's engine and yours."

I knew there were differences, but it was best not to admit that. Right now, there was no way the powers involved that I might have gotten a little peek at a few things they'd have rather have kept hidden.

So far as the two people in front of me knew, there hadn't been a security breach at their company, and it was best they kept believing that. It wasn't like I'd done much more than look at publicly accessible information and a deep dive on trends.

Knowing the little I knew about these two, it was easy to stare them down until they blinked.

"You have no proof?" the lawyer asked, still trying his best. I had to give him that much.

"I do actually. My client's deal with Boeing. The same technology you're interested in now was exchanged a month ago. You've no evidence of a breach before or during that time, and you must know by now that boeing has complete schematics for something you didn't finish. Even without knowing who my client is, you don't have enough for a claim."

They really wanted to know who the boss was. Too bad, really.

"Leaving that aside for now," Stanley Daniels broke in: "We are very interested in the schematics you submitted, and any others you might have."

"Well, the boss tends to flit about from invention to invention and thought to thought, like geniuses do. Right now she's working on better ways to do fusion and stable plasma power sources."

I could see the man salivate, it was so obvious. He wanted it.

"But let's get back to the topic at hand. You want this, don't you? We're selling limited rights to the patent for a lump sum. We don't need a percentage or anything like that."

There would be no way I could get a percentage anyway, since that wasn't the right contract for something like this; what would I even levy it on, money per plane built with the parts?

Hey, if these people took my harmless words to mean I had no idea what I was doing, and took me lightly as a result, it was no fault of mine.

"I have our standard contract for such matters," the lawyer informed me, pulling a briefcase forward that I'd pretended not to notice just for this moment, and opening it up.

The sheaf of paper he handed me was quite wasn't the biggest I'd seen, but it was far from the smallest.

"I'll have to read this. You understand."

"Of course, take your time," Mr. Dernim responded by rote.

This time I could see the lawyer salivate while I pretended to read. He must be thinking I needed a lawyer myself to understand this contract.

He was almost right, the legalese was strong with this one. I could see how he got and kept his job; if I signed this for the boss, she'd hang me. Then she'd get creative.

I marked the first clause that couldn't happen after waiting long enough to make the action look normal. Normal humans didn't read something like this contract in a matter of seconds. It was the little things, really.

The lawyer didn't tense, which was telling. Of course that clause was expected not to pass my sight.

The next one I marked had him touching his tie.

The third one saw him both tense and fiddle with his tie.

That was it really, the rest of the contract was fine - until the remuneration came up. Really, the boss was offering to save them billions over the life of their contracts, and this was their first offer? It was insulting. I wrote down a figure that I knew would be the equal of all their savings for the first five years. That was how the game was played, after all.

"The exclusivity clause is a non-starter of course. Setting aside the fact that Boeing already has a deal with us regarding the patent, my boss's orders were to disseminate to as many interested parties as possible. After you, I have a meeting with Airbus for example."

The lawyer and his boss both nodded, they expected that.

"For the same reason, this next clause here is an issue. If I'm reading it right, you're demanding the right to either have first dibs or veto power over any deals we make regarding our future technology."

I pinned the lawyer with a stare until he nodded. I knew of course, but it was important to let him know that I knew.

"So, that is those two. The last one is this, the non-compete clause. Normally we'd have no problem with this, but the wording here suggests that Lockheed-Martin could sue if my boss builds or commissions the constructing of a plane with these engine 'modifications', as you called them earlier. That is also unacceptable."

Who were these two, who was Lockheed-Martin, to deny the boss the freedom of the skies?

Mr. Daniels' eyes narrowed, and I could see the gears turning. He was running through a short list now, I was sure. All people who could pull something like this off, people nicknamed "gadgeteers". That was fine, he wouldn't find the boss that way.

Now that the baseline was established, it was time for the true negotiations to begin. I started by removing the offensive clauses, and they countered by lowering my price.

I won, of course. Even though we settled on a figure that just somewhat more than what I expected, they had to give me all the clauses. A normal man might have argued for more money, but I didn't need a commission. Not that they knew that.

It was important that I look at least a little dejected though, so I put my poker face on to stand up and shake hands while the lawyer broke out his phone.

"It's been a pleasure sir," he said after he hung up. "Two copies of the contract will be delivered by courier to this address inside an hour. All you need do is sign both, staple your power of attorney with one, and hand it off to the courier. As soon as we receive the document, the bank account you've specified will receive the funds."

Clever - but we'd already thought of that too. The power of attorney I had was perfectly legal, but named no names. Instead it was to a number granted to a certain individual on all official state and federal records. Enough to show a person did exist, and was not fictitious, but with no indicators of who that person was.

Having connections in spy land had its perks. The only way anyone would find the boss through these dealings would be if I slipped up - and that just wasn't going to happen.

They'd try of course. They could join the club.

"Thank you gentlemen, It has been a pleasure."

I shook both their hands while they muttered bland pleasantries, sure in their knowledge that they managed to talk me down and save their company at the same time.

"Have a great day!" I called after them, with just the right mix of upbeat and regret in my voice. It had taken quite a bit of practice in the car to get that down, and I let the glow of a job well done infuse me."

As soon as I was sure they were gone I sat my body back down and jacked myself into the local internet; seriously, the office next to mine was using the luggage code. The luggage code! The brazen stupidity of people, I swear....

Leaving a series of codes and counters on an anonymous website that was being paid for by a shell company that was owned by another shell company that was owned by me.

When my brother or sister checked later, they would be able to tell the boss that the deal was done, and she was a great deal richer than she'd been this morning. The debit and credit cards should be arriving in the mail by now, so she'd want for nothing - assuming her mom didn't get to them first.

That was one scary lady.

That took all of one tenth of a second. Plenty of time left for searches for more victims... err, more soon to be contractors. Didn't the French have some aerospace companies lying around?

Research tidied me over until the knock on the door at least, and doing it now, I didn't need to pay for the internet access; I had to keep up my image as a bad boy, after all.

The knock came, and I answered the door.

The delivery driver was a young man from a local company, who had two large envelopes in one hand. The other was held out for me to shake. "Hi, I'm Jeff."

"Hi Jeff, I'm Shecky." We shook.

His other hand came up and he sorted the envelopes, handing me the first. I ripped it open and lo and behold, two contracts. "Sorry, I've got to check this to make sure nothing was slipped in."

I didn't take as long establishing my bona fides here; Jeff didn't care whether I was human or not, he just wanted to get this delivery done, get his workday done, and then go home and relax.

There hadn't been anything slipped in of course, they wouldn't dare risk this deal. "You got a pen?"

"Sure," Jeff admitted, pulling the very nice pen that I'd noticed before from his shirt pocket pen holder and handing it over clicker end first like a true nice guy. He was busy taking in the total lack of office furniture and identifying crap most offices had.

I signed with a flourish both times, and took the other envelope, dragging his attention back to me.

I sealed the correct copy of the contract, snagged one of my copies from the inside of my jacket (crumpled and a little stained of course, because I had a reputation to maintain) and added it in.

I sealed, signed the outside seal to make sure if the thing was broken we'd all know, and handed it back.

"There you go, and there you go." I made sure to hand the pen back with the other hand. I liked my pen thefts as much as the next guy, but that was a nice pen and I wasn't made of stone.

Jeff took both with a muttered thanks and headed for the door. "Have a nice day, sir."

I followed. "You too."

When he went through the door, I was right behind him. I liked the look of surprise.

"Sir?"

"Oh, that office is rented. I've got it for the rest of the day, but my business here is finished. Time to knock off a bit early and enjoy the rest of the day."

Jeff liked that idea, I could tell. We got into the elevator together, and I pretended not to notice how the old thing creaked. "Sounds great. Have you been here before, sir?"

"Nope. This is my first time here, even though I've heard its a wonderful convention city."

Jeff's face softened further. "It is at that. If you've got time you should at the very least drive the strip. There are tours, if you want. I can point you at one my cousin works at."

The elevator dropped, and I appreciated the little stutter it gave my gyroscope. "That won't be necessary, I've got my own car, and I think I'd much rather just drive around and then find an out of the way casino to soak up the local culture in."

Jeff's eyes brightened. Maybe he had a gambling problem? "There are a few of those. the casinos here run very clean operations, but some of the older ones are less frequented than they used to be."

Jeff wanted to be helpful, I could see. He wanted me to ask which ones, so he could later sell my location information to someone. He was almost desperate.

The elevator came to a stop, and I let Jeff go first. I didn't want him to notice the elevator bounce when I stepped off.

I rejoined him and we both hit the fresh air and sunshine at the same time. His delivery truck was parked just in front of my caddy, and he wasted no time.

"This is your car?" He asked, looking it over.

"Yes it is."

"It's beautiful," he admired. Then he glances over at me again. "Matches you, really. Matches your suit."

"Thanks," I told him, and I meant it. I thought I was going to go the entire day without someone noticing. "See you next time."

Even if there wouldn't be a next time, I liked saying that better than goodbye. Goodbye sounded too final.

"Yeah, see you later," he answered and stepped in his truck.

I waited until he pulled off before pulling out behind him. Nothing like a big truck to clear the way for you on a road, and I wasn't in a hurry.

It was time to hit up a small casino bar, drink a little, and see if I could add a fraction to the money the boss would be getting wired soon.