Author: Lostiawen

E-mail: Lostiawen

Rated: NC-17

Pairing: VM/OB, OB/others implied

Summary: Top smuggler Viggo Mortensen is contracted to transport a mysterious pa ckage for an exorbitant fee.  But he winds up with more than he bargained for...

Archive: Please ask.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Warnings: AU, bondage, spanking, domination. 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened.  The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within. 

Author´s Notes: This was written for the VigOrli Secret Santa at vo_xmas.  I ran out of time, so this is the "theatrical version".  I´m working on a "director´s c ut" for the future. 

I´ll be posting one part a day, so read and enjoy!

Posted Dec.  27th, 2006

Viggo cursed under his breath and ran for cover behind some metal barrels. As much as he wanted to help Dominic, he had to wait until he could do it without getting them both killed. He bobbed up a bit, hoping that his attacker was going to be stupid. 

He was. A shot careened off the metal. Viggo continued to move and poke his head up; counting each shot after it was fired. He had counted 10 when everything went silent. He had to make his move now. 

Viggo scooped up Dom and shoved him into the car. He dropped the case into the back seat before he jumped behind the wheel, pushing down hard on the accelerator. When he passed by the door to the warehouse, he caught a glimpse of a tall, stunning blond-haired man. He was quite muscular, with a tattoo of a winged dragon on one arm. 

The man spotted Viggo and shouted at his compatriots. Gunshots whined through the air seconds later, but they only grazed the car. Viggo tore down the street, driving like a bat out of hell towards a spider web of one-way streets and twisting alleyways that they had spotted on their afternoon reconnoiter. 

Viggo slowed down when he reached the maze, maneuvering in a complex path that would be impossible for a non-native to follow. Well, a non-native or something who hadn´t plotted it out. He left nothing to chance, and he had sketched out this route earlier when he was planning things with Dom. 

After several more turns, Viggo breathed a sigh of relief. He had lost them; now he had to get Dom some medical attention. He checked the wound -- Dom had taken a shot high on his chest, but it was from a large bullet and he was bleeding profusely. Viggo pulled over and ripped a strip from his shirt so that he could make a tourniquet. After it was tightened, Viggo flipped open his cell phone and hit the speed dial, secrecy be damned because it was an emergency. It took several rings before someone answered. 

"Hello?"  a sleepy voice replied. 

"Miranda? This is Viggo. I contacted you earlier today...I need your services." 

Her voice turned crisp. "All right. Which one of you? Do you need directions?" 

"It´s Dom, and I just need your address." 

Miranda obliged, and Viggo punched it into the GPS. He had just finished entering it when Dom let out a painful wheeze. 

"Shit, just hold on, partner."  He drove through the Dallas streets, running through the red lights and hoping that Miranda was as good as she said she was. 

Miranda was a surgeon who had gotten disgusted with the fact that hospital administrators were dictating policies which were in their best self interest. The feeling was mutual, and the upper management had fired her for poor performance and for punching out the chief of surgery. 

The punching part was true, but that was because the doctor had groped her. He had a lot of influence, and a lot of wealthy contacts, so he made sure that any mention of wrongdoing was covered up. Instead, he made it appear as if she had an attitude problem. No hospital would hire her after that incident she was blacklisted. So now hired out her skills to whomever could pay her exorbitant fees, no questions asked; which was a resource that was valuable to anyone operating on the shady side of the law. 

Viggo reached Miranda´s house in record time and he immediately hauled Dom out of the car, trying not to panic when he saw how white his partner´s skin was. He bent down and rolled Dom onto his shoulder, picking him up in a fireman´s carry. 

Miranda threw the door open. "Bring him in here, I have a table prepped." 

"Could you do me a favor and grab the pack out of the back seat? It´s important." 

Miranda plucked the bag out of the car and scurried ahead of Viggo. He followed her inside, and a strong antiseptic smell immediately stung his nose. 

"Go to the first room on the right," Miranda said. 

He trudged over to the doorway on the right and saw a tray with a bunch of medical instruments. A make-shift operating table was in the center and Viggo eased Dom onto it. An IV with Dom´s blood type and a couple of other solutions had been set up. 

Miranda darted in and grabbed a pair of scissors. As she was cutting open his shirt, she said, "What was he shot with?" 

"Hell if I know!"  Viggo growled. "I don´t use guns." 

"Well, it was definitely a big caliber, but there´s not enough damage for it to be from a hollow point."  She glanced upward. "I need room to do my work, so I´m going to have to ask you to leave. I can´t have a Nervous Nellie fluttered around and tipping things over."

A flash of irritation hit Viggo. "Fine. I need to deal with the car, anyway." 

He left Miranda and retrieved the pack along with a couple of towels before he walked outside. There was no way he was letting it out of his sight now. Viggo mopped up the blood as best as he could with the towels, but there was still some that would have to be covered by thick blankets. 

Now what? He couldn´t finish this job alone, but in hell was he going to acquire another partner ASAP? He could have done it easily on the West or East Coast, but Dallas wasn´t his usual stomping ground. Unless...he dashed back into the house and dialed a number on Miranda´s phone. 

Sean sounded half asleep when he picked up. "You´d better have a damn good reason for calling me at this hour." 

"It´s Viggo. I need to talk to you, now. It went bad, and Miranda is patching Dom up." 

"Shite. Okay, I know of a place that about a half mile from her place that doesn´t ask too many questions. Keep going down the main street and look for the run down sports bar. Meet me there." 

"Sure." 

It didn´t take long for Viggo to find the bar, and it was pretty run-down. No cocktail waitress was in sight, it looked like if you wanted a drink, you got it from the bar. The selection was cheap and shitty, and Viggo wouldn´t be surprised if the drinks were watered down. He sat down near the back, waiting for Sean. 

Sean arrived about 20 minutes later. Concern was etched on his face when he joined Viggo. "What happened, mate?" 

"We were followed and Dom took a bullet in the chest." 

Sean eyed the backpack at Viggo´s side. "Pretty small thing to get shot over," Sean said. 

"Fuck you." 

Sean clapped Viggo on the back. "Sorry. Let me buy you a drink?" 

"Sure, get me a shot of Crown Royal if they have it." 

Sean returned with a bottle of Cuervo and a couple of glasses. "The only whiskey they had was Jim Beamand except for this bottle, the rest of their stock was complete shite." 

"Hey, better than nothing," Viggo said. He poured himself a shot and drank it. 

"What now?"  Sean said. 

"I don´t know. Even if Dom makes it, he can´t finish the job. I need a partner, and I don´t know if there´s anyone good enough in the area to take his place on short notice. You have contacts here, can you recommend someone?" 

"Let me make some calls. Can you give me a few?" 

"Knock yourself out."  Even though it was tempting to get trashed, Viggo couldn´t afford to be less than fully alert right now. He settled for twirled his glass in his hand while he waited for Sean. 

When Sean returned he said, "The good news is that someone is available. The bad news is that you won´t like who it is." 

"Oh come on, Sean. I´m desperate. He can´t be that bad, can he?" 

Sean took a deep breath and said, "I heard that Orlando Bloom is in town. He just finished up a job and he´s been clubbing around to celebrate." 

"That fucker?"  Viggo hissed. Three years ago, Viggo had been paid to intercept a rare antique that was being shipped out to a wealthy patron in the UK. Orlando had beat him to it, practically swiping it from under Viggo´s nose. 

But that wasn´t why Viggo hated Orlando. No...it was the extensive bragging that the other man had done. Crowing about how he, the young, wet behind the ears smuggler had outdone one of the most experienced blokes in the field. 

That had earned him on spot on Viggo´s shit list. And Viggo had wanted nothing to do with him. "Sean...this job involves me being affectionate with my partner. I´d rather cut my dick off than work with him like that." 

Sean lit up a cigarette. "Look, I know you´re narked at him...but he´s damn good. He´s a great improviser and he can charm the pants off pretty much anyone." 

"He takes too many risks." 

"He´s easy on the eyes." 

Viggo´s lips tightened into a hard line. "So I´ve heard. Over and over again. I don´t need that kind of distraction." 

"Your loss. I think it´d be a great way to blow off tension." 

It was hard for Viggo to avoid whacking Sean on the arm. "You know I don´t sleep with my partners." 

"And that´s a mistake," Sean replied with a lazy smile. "Means you missed a few choice opportunities." 

"I´m not taking that risk, Sean. Sex on the brain blunts my edge. Isn´t there *anyone* else that I could work with?" 

"Unless you want to bend your principles, no. Orlando´s the only one who could deal with them." 

Viggo sighed. "All right, tell him to meet me tomorrow at my hotel room, 5am in the morning, sharp." 

"Will do. I´ll ring him up after you leave." 

Viggo said his goodbyes to Sean and returned to Miranda´s place, waiting patiently until she answered the door. 

"He´s fine," she said. "I managed to sew him up and he´s had a transfusion, but he needs bedrest." 

It was just as Viggo figured. "Can I see him?" 

"He´s a bit groggy, but you can talk to him for a little while." 

"Thank you," Viggo said. Miranda ushered him in and steered him over to the bedroom where Dom was resting. 

Dom´s eyes fluttered open. "If you wanted a divorce, you could have found an easier way," he said weakly. "I demand a bonus for this." 

"You´ve more than earned it."  He squeezed Dom´s hand and said, "I´m afraid I´m going to have to get another partner, but I´ll still cut you in for at least a third."

"You´re too generous, Vig," Dom replied. 

His eyes were starting to look unfocused, so Viggo ruffled his hair and said, "Get some rest. I´ll deliver the goods." 

He noticed that Dom had already drifted off, so he called Miranda back in before he head back to the hotel, trying to analyze this new development. It was a five hour drive to Galveston, assuming that he could go at 60 miles an hour. He added a few more hours because the rain would eventually come back. On top of that, they would need to have pit stops, and then there was the holiday street traffic once they pulled into town. That didn´t leave a lot of wiggle room for them to make the 2pm departure time. 

This also meant that he had to get a passport and fake ID made for Orlando in only an hour, which wasn´t possible. Not if he wanted something credible. He turned logistics over in his head, worrying about details and possible screw-ups, only to be interrupted by the sound of his alarm. 

Fuck. Four-thirty came quicker than he thought it would. He hauled his butt out of bed and showered, wanting to be dressed and ready by the time Orlando arrived. 

Five o´clock came, and no one arrived. Viggo chewed his lip - he was on a tight schedule as is, and in addition to Orlando´s stuff, he still needed to deal with the car. The minutes slowly ticked by, and at 15 after, Viggo threw up his hands in disgust. Looks like Orlando screwed him. Again. 

He cursed up a blue streak in several languages. He should have known that Orlando would fuck things up. Grumbling and thinking of the various ways he could kill the other man, he pulled out his suitcase and started packing. 

He was interrupted by a knock at the door at 5:30. 

"It´s me," a rich Brit-accented voice said through the door. 

Annoyed as all hell, Viggo opened the door. So this was Orlando -- a puppy dog-eyed, skinny kid in a brown leather jacket; with sweaty hair plastered to his head, and no riders. In Viggo´s mind, this was about as far as you could get from the stories of the legendary sexpot that had been circulating around. 

Resisting the urge to give him a swift kick in the rear, Viggo gestured for Orlando to come inside. The other man gave him a cocky grin and sashayed past, the odor of cigarettes, booze, sweat, and sex wafting in with him. 

Jesus Christ, the guy hadn´t even showered. He was pissing Viggo off more and more with every minute. "You´re late," he growled. "You´re lucky that I didn´t take off without you; I don´t have time to fuck around on this job." 

"Sorry man," Orlando replied. "I didn´t have a chance to check my voice mail for a while. I was busy with a pair of twins that were hung like fucking elephants." 

"I never would have guessed from the reek."  Viggo´s voice dripped with sarcasm. "If you´re ready to put your dick away, we need to get down to business. First, we have to figure out how to get you some decent ID."

Orlando ignored the insult and said, "I took care of that. And I have a car for us to switch to once we pull away from here. I already arranged for someone to go haul yours off when you´re ready. He´ll take it to a junkyard and crush the bugger." 

What? There was no way that could be true. "If you´re trying to cover for your lateness, you have another thing coming." 

Viggo turned to retrieve his last shirt when he spotted Orlando reaching into his pocket. He pulled out something flat and tossed it onto the bed. A British passport. 

No, it couldn´t be...but he flipped it open, and there it was: a passport with Orlando´s photo, issued to Michael Anderson-Whitworth. "How?" 

"Simple, man. You don´t know anyone around here, so you must have used people Sean recommended. I just went over to Meg´s and paid her a hefty bonus to whip up new papers for me. Fortunately for you, I know plenty of people in Dallas."  He plopped down into one of the overstuffed chairs and swung his long legs over the edge. He looked at Viggo quizzically, cocking his head to the side. "So...give me some more details. I only know that you and Dom are posing as a married couple and he got shot while trying to help you smuggle something."

Viggo cleared his throat. He was not going to be caught off guard again. While he finished packing, he gave Orlando a rundown of everything that had happened. 

Orlando whistled. "Sounds like some really big boys are after this thing. But hey, it sounds just up my alley -- incredibly thrilling danger, a fabulous cruise, and a big pay off." 

Oh no. This was not going to turn into the Orlando Bloom Show. "If you want in...you do things my way, got it? This is not the movies...we play it low profile and keep it that way." 

Orlando pouted. "You´re no fun, old man." 

"And don´t call me that!"  Viggo snarled out. 

"Should I call you pookycakes, then? Or how about snookums?" 

Viggo gurgled out something incomprehensible. It took all of his self control to keep himself from slugging Orlando. He muttered several choice curses and finished packing his and Dom´s stuff. 

He was about to leave when Orlando cleared his throat. 

"What?"  Viggo snapped out. 

"Where´s my spending cash, man?"  Orlando said. "I need to have bribe money available in case I get separated from you." 

Muttering curses, Viggo opened up the case of money and gave Orlando a small wad. 

"Is that all?" 

Orlando riffled through the bills and grinned. "Perfect. Let´s go." 

They put their luggage onto a cart and wheeled it out to the car. Viggo popped the trunk open so that Orlando could load everything up while he checked out. After all of the paperwork was settled, they got into their separate cars, and Viggo followed Orlando through the streets. They pulled up at a nearby greasy spoon, and a thuggish brunette with a spiky haircut was waiting there, patiently smoking a cigarette. 

Orlando poked his head out of the window and gave the guy a megawatt smile. 

"Hey Martin, here´s the car I need you to scrap."  He motioned at Viggo to get out. "So, how are things in the junkyard business? Did you actually hook up with that fantastic co-worker you were telling me about?" 

Viggo transferred his belongings to the trunk of Orlando´s car, and he brought the backpack with him into the cab. He was glad that Orlando was chattering away with Martin, since it distracted away from how gingerly he was handling his cargo. 

Once Viggo was seated, he cleared his throat. Orlando gave Martin another brilliant smile and said, "Thanks for taking this on at short notice, luv, I owe you one." 

"You can pay me later."  The throaty purr in Martin´s voice made it quite clear exactly what he had in mind. That was almost predictable -- Orlando struck Viggo as the type of guy to get favors by spreading his legs. 

Orlando responded by laughing and kissing Martin on the nose. 

"I´ll ring you up when I´m in town next, yeah?"  He gave Martin a bawdy wink and said, "Go on." 

Martin flicked his cigarette away and climbed into Viggo´s car. He waved at Orlando one final time before he drove off. 

Orlando put the car in gear and said, "Time for us to hit the road. You want to swap at the halfway point?" 

"Sure," Viggo said. That would give him enough time to review his plans and think of contingencies. 

He relaxed back, ready to sink into deep concentration, when Orlando´s voice broke the silence. "You know the thing I love about Dallas is all of the cowboys, but maybe that´s because I have kind of a fetish for leather chaps. It all depends on the kind of leather, though; some of the cheap shit really chafes..."

Viggo blinked in disbelief as Orlando continued to babble non-stop. How in hell could he keep that up? And was he going to have to listen to this the entire way? Damnit, why did Dom have to get shot? 

"...what do you think, Vig?" 

Oh great. He was expecting an answer. Viggo grunted something out, which he hoped answered the question. 

Orlando beamed and continued chattering, oblivious to the fact that Viggo wasn´t paying any attention to him. Viggo could tell that this was going to be a long ride. 

Viggo was right, the trip was torturous. The surprisingly clear weather they had in Dallas turned out to be a fluke, and it was now raining heavily. This didn´t seem to phase Orlando, he was able to talk non-stop about anything and everything, and the chatter just kept going and going and going... 

To add to Viggo´s annoyance, his dick was starting to do the thinking for him. An hour after they had swapped, he found himself really looking at Orlando for the first time. 

Sean was right, he was easy on the eyes. The tousled curls framed his lovely high cheekbones to perfection, and the strip of baby smooth skin exposed by his spray painted on no-riders was tempting beyond all belief. 

Viggo kicked himself mentally. He needed to stay focused and remember that he was annoyed at Orlando. And to not think about unzipping and shoving his throbbing cock into that soft mouth to shut him up... 

"Earth to Vig! Helloooo, can you hear me?" 

Annoyed with the fact that he was entertaining cheap schoolboy fantasies, Viggo growled out, "Stop calling me ´Vig´. What is it?" 

"I´m starving and I see what looks like a mall up ahead. I´d like to stop off and find something to nosh on." 

Viggo rolled his eyes. "Can´t you wait?" 

"Aw, c´mon man! I didn´t have any dinner last night and I forgot to grab enough when we stopped off at the gas station." 

"That´s because you were too busy ogling that guy getting coffee. I don´t know how familiar you are with Texas, but that´s a good way to get yourself killed. Dallas is the only tolerant city around here." 

"Christ. I was not ´ogling´ him. I did the sideways scope. And you never know when you´ll meet someone who could come in handy." 

"Oh for fuck´s sake...he´s straight as hell, Orlando." 

When Orlando spoke next, he was grinning from ear to ear. "My gaydar told me that the guy only thought he was straight. Give him three shots of whiskey and he´ll be all over me." 

"You´re overestimating your appeal. Not everyone is going to fall all over themselves for you." 

"What? With my sexy arse? I bet you $200 that I can drag the next ´straight´ man into bed." 

"No." 

"Aw c´mon, Viggo...it´ll be fun! What´s to lose? You´ll get money in your pocket." 

"It´s inane." 

This was getting ridiculous. Viggo was about to tell Orlando to let it go when he heard, "Let´s sweeten the pot, then. If you win, I´ll also be your slave for the day." 

Right. "You have no idea what being my slave involves." 

"You´re within my tolerances -- I don´t do scat or blood play, and golden showers is right out. But spanking and roleplaying is right up my alley." 

Viggo´s jaw dropped down so low that he was sure that he had caught some flies. "E-excuse me?" 

"Look, man...Sean´s a good friend of mine. He went off about you once while we were celebrating. And it´s not exactly like I´m new to this. I´ve been subbing for almost as long as I´ve been smuggling. So...are we on?" 

The thought of punishing Orlando for his mouthiness, of making him beg and whimper, made his pants feel much too tight. 

"You´ve got a deal." 

They wound up stopping off at the food court inside the mall despite Viggo´s protests. Orlando killed all arguments by pointing out that they were making good time and by whining incessantly about how hungry he was until Viggo gave in. 

"Oh my God, that is soooo good," Orlando purred after he took a big bite out of his slice of pizza. He had flirted with the girl behind the counter and persuaded her to put a fresh one in the oven. She had happily complied and slipped Orlando her phone number along with his receipt. 

Viggo was surprised, since he was sure that Orlando had no interest in women. When he had quizzed Orlando on this, his partner replied. "I´m not at all into birds, but I´m not above selling a little fantasy if it gets me what I want." 

Viggo was still pondering this when Orlando made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a small moan. It was so decadent sounding that it sent a bolt of lust straight to Viggo´s groin. 

This irritated him to no end. He was on a job, and his partner was off limits. Besides, wasn´t he still pissed at Orlando? "Put a knot in it...you´re attracting attention." 

As soon as he finished his sentence, Viggo regretted even opening his mouth, because he saw a devilish gleam spark in those deep brown eyes. 

Orlando´s expression softened, and his eyes fluttered shut. "Ohhhh..." he breathed. His pink tongue flickered out to lick his lips and he let out another small cry. 

Curious glances flickered in their direction. Just the thing Viggo wanted to avoid. He leaned forward and hissed, "Stop fucking around. That is *not* funny." 

Orlando whispered back, "Look over at 3 o´clock about three stores down. My stunt should have grabbed anyone´s attention, but the three blokes standing front of the Gap looked away when I did it. They´re good, though...they caught themselves and they´re staring now." 

Viggo said in a low voice. "Tell me when they turn around again." 

Orlando took another bite and then said, "Clear." 

Viggo subtly gazed over to the window in front of the Gap. The men were talking amongst themselves, but Viggo immediately spotted a familiar head of blond hair. 

"Fuck!"  Viggo said. "They found us."  He started thinking of a plan. 

Orlando continued to eat his pizza as if nothing was amiss, but Viggo could see that he was now concentrating, focusing on the problem on hand. 

Orlando said casually, "If this mall is built the way I think it is, the closest exits are inside of Macy´s and next to that overpriced jeweler´s; neither of which are within sprinting distance." 

"We won´t be able to make it there quickly without being stopped," Viggo replied. 

Orlando´s eyes flicked over the numerous shoppers. "Not if we have a crowd of people in the way." 

He jumped to his feet and pulled out the wad of bills he had tucked into the waistband of his no-riders. He dashed to the end of the food court and shouted, "Oi! Santa´s come early!" 

Orlando tossed small handfuls of the money up into the air, so that the $500 bills cascaded down in a shower. 

It was as if a celebrity had arrived -- girls were squealing loudly and dashing for the center. A knot of crazed shoppers formed, all of them grabbed and fighting over the money. 

Taking advantage of the distraction, Viggo shouldered the pack with his precious cargo and started sprinting for Macy´s. He saw the blond try to push through, but the human wall that formed prevented him from making progress. 

They made it out to the car and wasted no time in jumping in and roaring off. 

Viggo noticed that Orlando seemed deep in thought. "What is it?" 

Orlando pinched his earlobe and played with it. "That blond just looks familiar...I´m going to make a few calls, old man. I know that violates rule 101 of the Smugglers Hand Book because mobiles can be listened in on, but we´re pretty far away from any major police presence." 

Viggo nodded. The town they had stopped in was large enough to merit a mall, but he had a feeling that the cops there spent most of their time eating donuts and harassing teenagers instead of doing anything real. 

While Orlando was occupied, Viggo kept checking the rear view mirror to make sure that they had gotten away. Once the mall had faded into the distance, he breathed a sigh of relief. No sign of them. 

"...thanks, luv, I owe you a fantastic time when I drop in town next; one that involves getting nice and horizontal. Sounds good, yeah? Cool. Yeah, bye."  After Orlando ended his call he let out a heartfelt curse. 

Viggo blinked. "What did you find out?" 

"Our mysterious blond is strictly industrial espionage. High priced, too. No one hires him unless there´s some serious money to be made and they don´t mind a few corpses being produced to get what they want." 

Orlando unbuckled his seatbelt and started reaching towards the backseat, which is where Viggo had put the pack. 

"Orlando, what the fuck?" 

"This setup smells, Vig. I want to see what the fuck we´re transporting." 

"No!"  Viggo said, reaching for Orlando. 

He was caught off guard when Orlando responded by grabbing his arm and twisting it into an Aikido hold. "Viggo, you know that I have to do this!" 

"That breaks the contract with my client!" 

"Yeah? The cunt broke it first when he didn´t tell you that it was IE stuff that we could get shot over!" 

In his heart, Viggo knew that Orlando was right, but his word was his bond, and he was having a hard time trying to justify breaking his cargo open. He started grasping at straws. "It´s not like he knew." 

"Bollocks," Orlando said. "I´m opening it. So either pull over and toss me out of the car or let me pop the bloody thing open. It´s your choice, Viggo." 

Viggo took a deep breath and said, "All right." 

Orlando released his hold and started unpacking everything. Viggo heard the straps being released, heard the carrying case being opened; heard the soft noise as the inner straps were undone and the box was lifted out. 

"It´s sealed," Orlando said. "I´ve got it."  Viggo heard the snick of a switchblade and the sounds of the box being cut open. 

Packing material being shifted..."Fuck me!"  Orlando yelled. "It´s a bunch of fucking DVDs?" 

"Huh?"  Viggo looked out of the corner of his eye, and saw an indignant Orlando holding up a handful of discs. 

"Wait..."  Orlando said. "They´re numbered. That´s weird." He fished Dom´s laptop out of the back seat and booted it up. Once he had a display, Orlando put the DVD into the drive. 

"Media Player can´t read it...I´m getting errors." 

Viggo said. "Can you look at the D:?" 

A few clicks later, Orlando said, "There´s a shitload of files here...Ugh, the laptop can´t open them because it doesn´t understand the format." 

"So now what?" 

Orlando chewed his lip and said, "Let´s try this from a different angle -- Vig, who hired you?" 

"Someone named Harry Sinclair." 

"Can you describe him?" 

Viggo noticed it was clear and said, "I can do better than that." 

He took an off ramp and pulled into a gas station. He retrieved a pad of paper from the trunk and sketched out Harry´s face. 

Once he was done, he pushed it towards Orlando. "That´s him." 

Orlando squeaked out, "Harry Sinclair my arse! That bloke goes by the name of Karl Urban, and he´s Ian McKellan´s CFO!" 

"Who?" 

"You bloody Yanks. Ian´s the head of one of the biggest software corporations in the UK, and they actually have an office in Dallas. But that doesn´t make any sense...why in fuck would Karl want you to smuggle this shit out of the country? And what´s so valuable that they sent the big guns after us? People don´t get shot over spreadsheets or web thingies..."

Viggo said, "I have a feeling it´s linked to whatever is on these discs. But I´m not savvy enough on the computer to pop those files open." 

"I know someone who´s a fantastic genius with this stuff, but we´d have to turn around because he lives in Dallas. Are you game?" 

Viggo frowned. He was a man of his word, but this job was starting to smell fishier and fishier as time went on. "Yes, yes I am." 

---
end part 2

Part 3
Part 1
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