Oliver, Lance, and Dinah stood around Oliver’s desk, watching the video on the computer monitor. The film was clear.
“Hello, Star City!” Faust grinned at the camera. “It’s your favorite mother’s son, and I have to tell you it’s a real blast being here.” He bowed his head, holding his hands up. “Sorry, terrible joke, just awful.”
He adjusted his face, adopting a deadpan expression.
“This is serious business, and as such I won’t waste any of your time, Mayor Queen. You know I blew up the Star City Bridge—well, not exactly blew it up, more set it on fire. Now, you know I’m both able and willing to blow things up if I don’t get what I want.”
Oliver watched the bomb maker. The man never sat still, always moving in some small manner—a twitching finger, a tic under his left eye, always some part of him in motion, even when he wasn’t dancing around like a fool. It was a mystery how this frenetic, spastic individual could be steady enough to ever wire a bomb.
But they knew firsthand that he could, and once more Oliver was stunned at the depths of Adrian Chase’s hatred for him. It ran so deep that he’d set this maniac loose on Star City, just for revenge.
“Simply wire twenty-three hundred bitcoins to this account.”
A number flashed across the screen.
“Or I will use this to blow up a significant landmark in Star City.”
The camera pulled back to reveal a ballistic missile. It hung in the air behind its maker, a stubby-looking thing despite its size and sharply pointed nose cone. It looked like a brutal piece of equipment, and had just one purpose.
Destruction. On a large scale.
Faust jumped in front of the camera, filling the screen with his face.
“You have two weeks,” he said. “The deadline— and I mean dead—is midnight, October twelfth.” The screen went blank.
“That guy is crazy,” Lance said.
Dinah’s eyebrows creased. “He is,” she agreed, “but what do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know how much a tactical missile goes for these days, but they don’t come cheap. Like millions not cheap. This clown is going to use one, just for twenty-three hundred dollars? It makes no sense.”
“Bit what?”
“Bitcoins. It’s a cryptocurrency.”
Lance looked at her, his question plain in his eyes.
“It’s digital money,” she offered.
“Okay, it’s internet dollars. How much is the exchange on these bitquarters?”
Oliver spoke for the first time. “Roughly ten million dollars.”
“You just knew that?” Lance asked.
“The Russian crime bosses love bitcoins.”
Lance nodded. “Ten million isn’t that much, not for a city budget.”
“That’s the point,” Oliver said. “A good extortionist never asks for more than their mark can afford to pay.”
“The Russians again?”
Oliver nodded.
“Damn those commies,” Lance said.
Oliver pulled the flash drive from the computer. “Quentin, hold things together here,” he said. “Not a word about this to anyone—not yet.”
“You’re taking it to the brainy part of the team?”
Oliver nodded.
Lance turned toward the door. “Tell Miss Smoak I said hello,” he said, and he turned. “Dinah, it was good to see you.” They said their goodbyes and Lance shut the door behind him.
“Can I talk to you?” Dinah asked.
“Yes, of course.”
Suddenly, she didn’t know how to say what she wanted to say. The words sat in her throat, behind her teeth.
“Is everything okay, Dinah?”
“You should talk to John.”
“Does this have anything to do with how little he’s been involved with the team recently?”
“I don’t know, maybe, probably—but you should check in on him. I think the stuff on the island might still be bothering him.”
“Is there something I should know?”
“John’s your friend, just talk to him.”
Oliver frowned.
* * *
“Hello, Mother.”
Felicity held the door open as Donna Smoak stepped inside her apartment. They embraced, hugging tightly. Donna jerked back, loosening her grip.
“Oh dear,” she said. “I didn’t mean to squeeze so tight.”
Felicity frowned. “Why—oh, don’t worry about my back. You won’t hurt me.”
Donna shook her head, amazed at the weird science that gave her daughter back the ability to walk. Not understanding it, but grateful for it. She stepped inside, and Felicity closed the door behind them.
“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” Felicity said.
“I can’t believe I’m back in Star City.”
“You’re always welcome here.”
The area around Donna’s eyes grew tight. “You can’t say that for everyone.”
“I can say it for me.”
“Does Quentin—?”
Felicity reached out, placing a hand on her mother’s arm. “You know that’s not his way.” She said it as gently as she could. Donna waved her hands, shaking off the sadness that threatened to well up inside her.
“What is going on in your love life?” she asked. “Are you seeing someone special, or have you and Oliver stopped being dumb?”
“Getting right to it—well, okay,” Felicity replied, grimacing and smiling at the same time. “No, no one special. Things with me and Oliver are… complicated.”
“They always have been. You need to—”
“His son lives with him,” Felicity blurted out.
“Son?”
Felicity nodded. “William.”
“Oh.”
“He’s twelve.”
“Oh.”
“His mother was killed in an explosion. A car accident, her car exploded.”
Donna stood there for what seemed like entirely too long, her mouth open but no sound coming out. She closed it and gave a sharp little shake of her head, trying to organize everything her daughter had just said. Gathering her wits, she finally found her voice.
“Felicity, dear, are you okay?”
“I worry about Oliver and William, and sometimes I can’t sleep very well, but otherwise I’m fine, just fine.”
Donna stared at her daughter. “Sounds like you’re not really very fine at all.”
Felicity just shrugged.
“That’s a lot to deal with.”
Felicity shrugged again.
Donna’s eyes narrowed. “Felicity Megan Smoak.”
“I hate it when you use my full name.”
“And I hate it when you aren’t being honest with me,” Donna countered. “What is on your mind?”
“Well, my severance pay from Palmertech is almost over.”
Donna stared at her daughter, who just looked at the wall.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Felicity shrugged.
* * *
Diggle answered his door, and found Oliver standing there.
“I didn’t expect a visit from you.”
“I need to talk to you, John.”
“Come on in.” He stepped aside, allowing Oliver to enter. “Would you like a drink?”
Oliver shook his head.
“What’s on your mind?”
Oliver looked at him for a long moment. Diggle knew that look. He was trying to figure out just how blunt he could be. As much as he loved Oliver for all his faults and strengths, sometimes the man was lousy with his interpersonal skills.
“Are you quitting the team?” Oliver said.
Fairly blunt, he thought. “Why would you think that?”
“You’ve missed the last few missions, to be with your family.”
“It’s just the stuff from Chase, it’s bothering me more than I thought it would, but family is the most important thing…” Diggle bit back the brother, not wanting to throw Oliver’s words back in his face.
“It is. I understand that even more now that William is with me. So, I understand if John Junior has made you begin to rethink the life we’ve chosen.”
“But you’re here to talk me out of quitting?”
“No.” Oliver shook his head. “I would support that decision. Completely.”
“What’s the ‘but’? I know there’s one coming.”
“Faust is still out there, waiting to create a crisis, and the copycat is still on the loose. Plus, you know this city—every day, every week could bring a new threat.”
“I know all of this.”
“So, my point is,” Oliver said, “I will support you quitting, but if you aren’t quitting, then I need you. I can’t keep this city safe on my own. You taught me that. And the team functions better with you as a part of it.”
Diggle felt Oliver’s words like punches. He also felt the burn, deep in the nerve clusters of his arm, a constant low throb of pain that the medicine hadn’t been able to touch. Earlier that night he’d dropped a glass, his hand unable to maintain a grip.
He looked down at Oliver.
“I’m not quitting. You can count on me.”