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—
Metropolis
Beckett Residence
Miles was placing the Incan Canopa in a glass casing when the doorbell rang. Claire went to check it since she was closer. "Miles, it's those FBI agents with a tagalong."
"No need to be rude, Claire. Invite the nice gentlemen inside." Miles got up to greet his guests, leaving the effigy on the table.
Agents Morris and Delecrux came in, along with another man in his fifties with greying buzz-cut hair, dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase.
"Mr. Beckett. We are here to inform you that the FBI has validated your ownership of the gold you sold to the Gold Exchange." A string of communications through proper channels had established that the young man did in fact own all that gold.
Which had drawn the government's attention.
"I am Anthony Coleman, representative of the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System. Mr. Beckett, we are interested in buying your gold." He held out his hand, and Miles took it with a smile that actually reached his eyes.
"By all means, Mr. Coleman, take a seat and let's talk business." A literal golden egg-laying goose had stepped on his porch, and Miles was going to take advantage of it to the fullest.
"What is the amount the Federal Reserve is interested in?"
"For now, ten thousand tonnes, the same amount you sold to the Gold Exchange, each year."
"That is wonderful to hear." Since it was a federal contract, there would be no taxes, meaning no working overtime to evade taxes.
The man pulled out a document from his briefcase, putting it on the coffee table. "However, the Board will need assurances that you will not conduct any transactions regarding your gold with any third countries." They didn't want all that gold going to the hands of anyone not in line with the United States.
Miles took the document, scanning it. "In that case, the Board will have to offer me incentives." After all, free market principles dictated Miles could sell his gold to whomever he wanted.
"Such as?"
"Twenty percent above the market rate." His demand had caught the representative off guard, and the man was silent for a while to think on it.
That was a steep price, and Anthony would have to call that in. "I'll have to discuss that with the Board. If I may?"
"Of course, perfectly understandable."
Anthony stepped out of the house to relay Miles' demand to his superiors, and he turned to the FBI agents. "Can I get you anything to drink? I have an excellent jar of Cranberry Cosmopolitan Mocktail in the fridge."
"No, thank you." The agents refused, which he did expect since Delecrux was not good at hiding his expression yet. He must have been still sore about Miles' comment on his acting.
The representative of the Board returned not long after he had left. "The Board can only offer five percent at most, Mr. Beckett."
Miles leaned back, calm as one can be. "Do tell the Board that is nowhere near enough, and that the Federal Reserve will sooner run out of gold to buy than I'll run out of buyers. If they can't make it worth my time, I have no reason to accept. I mean, the Russians and the Chinese made more incentivizing offers." They had not, but the Board had no way of knowing it, and he specifically mentioned those countries, as they were technically the enemies of the United States.
His claim seemed to have rattled Anthony, who stood straighter. "How incentivizing?"
"Russians offered ten, the Chinese fifteen percent above the market rate." Miles put his hand over his heart. "Now, just as any other patriot, I would love nothing more than to sell my gold to the United States Federal Reserve, but I need to think of my interests as well." Patriotism would not resonate with the man, but if the Federals believed Miles had a nationalistic bone, they would be less inclined to further suspect him of anything foul when he did sell his gold to other buyers if he became strapped for funds.
"Excuse me for a moment." Anthony went out again, staying out for longer this time, while the FBI agents sat in silence, watching Miles as he moved the glass container to the shelf he had prepared for his collection.
Ignoring the agents, Miles went and got himself a glass, bringing Claire along. The FBI would most likely bug his house, so he gave Morris and Delecrux the opportunity.
Ah, such fun he would have with that.
Hearing the door open, Miles and Claire went back to the living room.
"The Board will agree to buy your gold twenty percent above the market rate if you agree to not sell your gold to anyone not approved by the Board."
The agreement was amended, and Miles signed it, with the details of how the Federal Reserve would take the gold to be discussed later.
—
Shushing Claire as she opened her mouth to speak, Miles began to check the probable places one might put a listening device.
Under the coffee table, between the cushions, around the TV stand, and on the shelves.
He found three of them, one under the glass display, one beneath the sofa, and one stuck to the back of the TV stand.
Cute.
"Are you going to destroy them?"
"No, play along." Miles took a notebook out of the table and began to write, ripping the page and giving it to Claire.
"So, are you just going to sell all that gold to the Federal Reserve?"
"Of course, who else would I sell it to? I would have done the same even if they hadn't offered more than Russia or China."
"Miles Beckett, a patriot to the end."
"To the USA." Miles held out his glass, and Claire brought hers closer.
—
"How are you going to get rid of those devices now?" If the devices went silent right after Miles talked about being a patriot, then only a fool would believe it wasn't fabricated.
Miles smirked. "We are going to eat out tonight."
—
They found a cozy little authentic Italian restaurant in the city center and had sat down to order. Since Claire, Zalika, and Baraka had no idea about the Italian kitchen, they ordered Fettuccine al burro as Miles had done.
Now if only that infernal Karen could shut her trap and let them eat in peace.
"I want to see your manager!" The blond woman screamed for some insipid reason, and Miles just had enough of her. He put one hand on her shoulder and another to discreetly push the butter knife on her back. "Miss, you look faint; perhaps you would like to take a seat?" He jabbed the knife, not enough to draw blood but enough to make her feel it, and seated the frightened woman.
"There are people here, having come to unwind after a long day's work, and you are making it a miserable experience for everyone, especially the workers. Now, you will eat your food in silence, pay, leave, and never come back, or else no one will ever hear your shrill voice again. Nod if you understand."
The woman nodded, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Just drink some water, miss; I am sure you will be fine."
Going back to his table, Miles continued to eat.
"That was cool." Baraka wanted someone to tell that woman to shut up, but seeing Miles go and scare the life out of her was definitely better.
Miles put down his fork as he was done with his lunch. "Some individuals think they are entitled to everything, like that woman, but life doesn't care who you are; other individuals do, and I don't care who she is at all." Calling her a woman was too much, as she acted more like a spoiled child, but Miles didn't want to get into the semantics of the matter.
They finished, and he paid the check, along with a very generous tip, and searched for ice cream outside, but his phone rang before he could find a place.
—
The living room of his house had been burned down, though the rest of the house was fine. The inspection showed they had overloaded an extension lead, and the insurance did not cover that.
Not a problem for Miles.
Coincidentally, all listening devices had been incinerated. There would no doubt be suspicions from the FBI, but they couldn't prove anything, so Miles was safe from any more espionage, for now.
—
Metropolis Forest
General Talak was back with Shayera in tow and half a dozen scientists, along with a codex containing the technologies Miles had demanded in return for his assistance.
"This is Mra Hedat, the chief researcher in charge of this unit. Per our agreement, he and his team will stay on Earth to teach your people." Said scientist simply nodded, dispirited at having to teach what they perceived as primitives.
"Marvellous." Miles simply said, waiting for the general to hand over the sword, which he did with great reluctance.
"And an Nth metal sword, as promised." Miles pulled the sword out of its sheath. It was four and a half feet long, and just like Shayera's battlemace, the sword was of a dark grey color, with two hawk sigils on the handle. Sheathing the sword, he gestured at the van for the scientists to get in, which they did after pulling their wings closer to their bodies.
He had made sure it was as large as it could be, but for now they would have to make do.
Hro's grimace had turned into a small smile, the best a warrior like him could make, and Miles had an idea why. "Now that our agreement is concluded, it is time we leave this planet, Shayera."
General Hro was no doubt looking forward to having his promised back with him since her mission was technically over with the destruction of the Gordonians, rather than being stuck on a primitive world as a spy.
Miles hated getting between lovers ever so much. "I am afraid not."
"What now?" In the short time they knew each other, Hro had learned it wasn't a good thing if the human before him had an objection.
"You are a Thanagarian of your word, general, but you cannot guarantee the Council won't do something monumentally ludicrous like breaking our agreement. Until the task of your scientists is over, Shayera stays on Earth as insurance."
"That's!" Talak started to object, but Shayera stopped him. "He is correct. We cannot allow Council to make all the sacrifices made by our people worthless just for their agenda. I can stay for however long it takes." Shayera had worked with all that she had for years to see this war end; she could afford to do more.
Shayera also wanted to have some time to think about Hro's deception in not telling her the real reason she was sent to Earth.
Hro seemed to be considering an alternative offer before he spoke again. "I can send someone else to take her place."
"You may, but there is no one else in this galaxy you would fight the Council so ferociously for as Shayera." Shayera was his fiancée after all, and Hro Talak would stand before the Council to the end if it meant she would be safe.
Hro snarled, but Shayera nodded, and he backed off reluctantly.
"Very well. I will return on regular intervals to check on the progress." Which was his way of saying he would come to visit Shayera at every opportunity he could find.
"By all means, General, though do inform us beforehand."
The Thanagarian general left without a word after sharing a tender moment with Shayera.
—
EnviroCorps Clean Energy Research Center
Mary-Anne informed him that she had gathered several of the prominent researchers on fusion technology and on components relevant to the field, along with the location of the pristine research center where he was taking the Thanagarians to.
He drove the car right into the underground garage, one he had specifically requested to avoid any prying eyes. Parking the vehicle, he went to greet Mary, who was waiting all alone, while Claire opened the door for the Thanagarians.
Miles had a satisfied smile as he shook her hand. "Mary, well done once again. You certainly meet my expectations." He had read the files on the scientists, and their acumen, combined with the Thanagarians' advanced scientific knowledge, would mean they would be the saviors of humanity from its greatest adversary.
Humanity itself.
"Thank you, Miles. You will also be happy to know EnviroCorps bought GothCorp, and Ferris Boyle is out of work. Your friend, Victor, has also started working again." He didn't have the opportunity to call Victor and noted to rectify that later.
"Serendipitous news, in the meantime, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Hedat and his fellow scientists, who will be educating our research team on the fields we have spoken about." As the Thanagarians slowly left the van, Mary took a step back in shock.
"My god."