Economy of Scale


    One of the most distinctive of ‘Gray Cape” jobs is to work as a courier. This is distinct from being a normal delivery man, or even bicycle messenger, as well as not a flattering term for a drug mule.


    Couriers agree to deliver messages, items or goods, with limitations varying from courier to courier. The only universal trait is that the courier does not care what is in the package they deliver.


    They also will require that it be in a sealed container of some sort, and almost universally expect to have no access to the interior themselves. There is also an understanding that the courier will make damn certain your package gets to where its going, baring interference from legal agencies. Its also understood that setting a courier up to get burnt is a quick way to never hire a courier again, or a courier bringing you a bomb instead of the nifty toy you ordered from a Toymaker.


    Bite one courier, they all tend to bite you.


    Phantastic, in “My life as a Tailor.”


    The next morning saw Penny and Solaris met by a Lincoln Navigator that drove them to the large, active offices of the accounting firm. Hours of drudgery, during which time Penny shopped online for an airplane, popping outside to make calls inquiring about them, finally ended around lunchtime.


    "If it’s any consolation, that went faster than I thought it would." Louise said


    "It is what it is, there isn''t as much as I thought there would be considering 70 years. How often do you think we should meet face to face?”


    "Maybe quarterly, though it won''t need to be a deep dive like this. This will only happen maybe once a year? I can come to you for the quarterly meetings, you here for the annual."


    "That works and will give me a chance to try out more of these hotels. the buildings here are amazing, like dozens of world fairs lined up, side by side"


    "Yes, but the hustle and bustle needs the occasional escape." The accountant opened a door, pulling out a golf bag filled with clubs. "Calloway Ladies, right-handed as I hope I remembered correctly. I figure any kit you have left is likely a bit to old to play."


    "I Haven''t gotten to go golfing yet." Solaris said her eyes bright. She pulled one of the modern clubs out, "Oh, the balance in these is a bit different. These are like clubs for aliens! I can''t wait to try them out!"


    "I think you''ll like them, and Caeser’s Palace can get you a Tee time at a local club. Just talk to the concierge." She suggested. "I''m not sure if Penny or Mrs. Ruan golfs."


    "I''m willing to give it a try." Penny shrugged. "Meaning I''ll suck, but I think someone told me once that was the point of Golf."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "It’s how I trained to control my strength early on. In the end it''s a nice day of walking in a park with friends.” Solaris said, pulling out the putter to try out. "Do you golf Louise?"


    "I do. Let me know when you set the time, and I''ll bring my sister along. She''s a real estate agent and has a pretty flexible schedule."


    "A foursome, Perfect. I''ll text you the Tee time when would be good for you?"


    "You''re here past Saturday, right? Let''s say then. There should still be times open this early, and it gives you time to take Penny to get clubs."


    "A good plan." Solaris said shaking her hand. "Thank you very much for the clubs."


    " Fair warning, those are only a step under what the pros use. The only way past is up."


    “I wonder if we can get clubs at Cesare''s Palace.”


    “I have no idea, but I''m sure we can find somewhere if not there."


    They left, sitting back in the navigator as it drove them towards the hotel, though neither could truly relax as the driver kept having to steer around other drivers. “I never thought I’d live to see worse than New York drivers.” Penny muttered.


    “Oh, London was bad even in my time. I doubt it’s improved.” Solaris grumbled. “Speaking of transportation, are you having any luck looking into a private aircraft?”


    “Some. I did some research, and I have a general range of models in mind. I’m avoiding new because, even though you can afford the best I am getting a real New Car depreciation vibe, along with reading about how often FAA has some major system update or repair they need within a couple of years. I’m looking at older, established planes that have all the bugs worked out and the value drop gone but are still nice. There’s a lot out there if you hunt. I just am not sure if they’ll be in Vegas.”


    “We can always offer to pay the owner to fly out to show it to us, I suppose.” Solaris mused.


    “I was thinking of hiring an agent to go look at the plane, give me their opinion, then fly it in to have techs crawl over it for a couple of days. Then we know we’ve got something steady. I already did research and found out you can set up an account with some crew hiring firms and they’ll get you short- or long-term staff, based on need. I was figuring get someone short term and look into hiring after we go ahead and have the thing gone over tip to tail back home.”


    “Not a bad idea. The Toymaker can likely line us up with some very interesting techs.”


    “Exactly what I was thinking. Anti-missile countermeasures sound like a great investment.”


    “Indeed.”


    Marcus and Nahoa watched the delivery men, wearing the name of a delivery service so bland that Marcus strongly doubted it was real, as they removed several large crates from their delivery truck, as well as a couple of dozen boxes and pelican cases. “Are either of you authorized to sign for deliveries?”


    “I can.” Nahoa said, looking at the invoice which listed the boxes by the numbers on their side. Shrugging, he signed, taking a copy of the receipt. “Thanks.”


    He watched the truck leave, the engine roaring way louder than he expected, but then if the truck wasn’t armored, he’d eat his shoe. “So, the Boss’s Toymaker delivers.”


    “I figured.” Marcus said, picking up a stack of the boxes, ignoring Nahoa as he lifted two, one stack under each arm. They carried them in, ignoring the crates since neither had any idea what would be in them, and set the boxes down.


    “These are labeled with our names.” Nahoa said, handing one of the boxes to Marcus who opened it. Inside was a white t-shirt and shorts, though the cloth they were made out of sure as hell wasn’t cotton. “This is the under armor.”


    “For you. This is one of my ‘working’ outfits.” Nahoa said, holding up a white sports jacket. “The rest are likely the spiffy things.”


    “We’ll leave it alone till Penny and Elizabeth get back.” Marcus said, sighing. If we play with too much of it now, we’ll get our asses kicked.”


    “True. But what is this? It’s labeled differently than the others, and I don’t think it was on the invoice. I missed it because it was with the other boxes.”


    They opened it, to find a woman’s corset and body suit, along with a gun with glowing gems on the side.


    “Oh hell. This is going to be a problem, isn’t it.”