What I saw nearly floored me. In addition to Petrokias, who was clearly identifiable by his haircut, a silvery fox look that looked a lot like he should have been a televangelist, I saw Sal Giordano. I'd studied his picture for hours on end after he'd ordered my death, and there had been shot after shot that I'd imagined returning the favor.
My fingers itched as the two Confederation bosses sat down, Petrokias pouring what looked like a deep red wine for both of them. I wanted to take down Giordano, but I couldn't. Mark had been very specific on that fact, if either of us had a chance to take down Sal Giodano, we had to pass. "If Sal goes down, the entire Confederation will blame Owen Lynch, and they'll go to war with him, united," Mark had said as we had gone over the plan again. "If we do that, this city will run with blood, and neither of us could do a damn thing to stop it. We want the Confederation distrustful and broken up, so that when they do go to war with each other, they'll be able to be taken down by Federal and state law enforcement."
Still, I wished I could take the shot. Instead, I focused, searching for the cold place that Mark had trained me for. Taking deep, calming breaths, I blanked out everything but my target, and then even lost that. Instead of seeing Petrokias the criminal, I saw just a target, like any of a thousand other practice targets I'd shot at. It took me a long time, a lot longer than Mark would, but by the time I opened my eyes and looked down the scope, I was ready.
My timing couldn't have been any more perfect. Petrokias and Giordano were deep into what looked like massive plates of either moussaka or lasagna, perhaps each man enjoying their particular culture's specialty. I turned up the CD to maximum volume and put in my ear plugs, muffling the noise. Sitting back down, I needed only a moment to find my target, sight for his head, and stroke my trigger.
As soon as I took the shot, I knew I had hit. Everything was exactly like Mark had taught me it would feel. There was no betraying quiver of muscle, or tightly held bit of breath. The rifle shot had actually surprised me, and in the moment I took to reacquire my target, I saw that I'd struck him in the throat. Sal Giordano was already down, crawling for safety and people were yelling. I pulled back and tossed the rifle on the bed, grabbing my Glock and headed for the door.
"Three," I whispered into the cacophony of the CD player music, opening the door and slipping into the hallway. The hallway was clear, I had been lucky so far. Either nobody had seen the shot, or they weren't sure where it had come from yet. Still, I didn't expect my luck to hold out forever, so I jogged down the hallway to the stairs to the roof, making my way up and out. The late twilight gave little illumination to the rooftop, but it was helped by the diffused city lights around. Moving quickly but not rushing, I made my way to the end of the roof, looking across at the next roof. It wasn't too far, just over seven feet, so I backed up a little bit and took a light running jump, landing with a little thrill on the other side.
"Didn't suck," I said to myself, enjoying the adrenalin rush. I heard yelling from below and behind me, someone had found my room. Picking up the pace, I started running, not even pausing as I jumped the next two roofs, before facing the big choice. If I was confident, I could take this building's fire escape down to the street level and disappear onto the light rail system. If not, I could turn right and flee another three blocks before taking another fire escape, but my escape route would then be going through the city storm drains for over a mile before emerging and then catching a city bus.
Looking behind me, I couldn't see anyone. While my lead may only have been a few minutes, it was enough. Chucking my Glock to the side, not wanting to get caught with one by a local cop, I took the fire escape, controlling my slide down the ladder using my hands. It's harder than it looks, especially when the ladder is old and a bit rusty. The hardest part actually was the end, when I was faced with a twelve foot drop. They make those fire escapes hard to climb up for a reason, after all. Still, even dangling, I was a good six feet above the ground, and the drop onto the trash littered street below didn't look all that inviting. Saying a quick prayer that there were no rusty nails or drug needles below me, I let go.
Thankfully, the worst that I landed on was an old flyer for the weekly discounts at the local department store. Brushing off my hands, I pulled the gloves off and tucked them in my pocket to be washed and disposed of later. Walking calmly to the train stop, I only had to wait three minutes before the next train. Stepping on, I held my cool until the doors closed, and I found a seat. Only then did I start to let the tremors begin in my hands.
Chapter 46
Mark
The news of Illuysas Petrokias' death barely made page four of the local papers. He was a low life who got shot in a club that was known more for the size of the waitresses' breasts than those of the chicken dishes. His death was only notable because of the fact that he had been sniped from a long distance, although the police would only say they were following leads. Considering that the police worked for Owen Lynch, I doubted they would get too far, although I pitied the poor detective who had been assigned the case. I was sure they would get stonewalled at every turn.
Han Faoxin, or more accurately Anita Han, on the other hand, was front page news. A celebrated, popular, and quite beautiful teacher at one of the best high schools in the state being killed in her own classroom was the stuff of television reports and lots of press coverage. For the next three days, there were daily reports and updates from obviously flummoxed reporters who kept trying to put a new spin on what obviously was no new information.
I had to admit, it was quite dramatic. The grainy images of me, clad in my loose fitting coveralls and my false ID soon flooded the local newscasts, highlighted by the fact that after the kill, I had apparently just walked off casually, like I didn't have a single care in the world. One local newscaster had even put forth the theory that I was some sort of new serial killer, even though there was no other crime like it in recent memory. I didn’t like that I had to do it in the school, but any other way would have been very dangerous.
On a quieter level, I could see the effect the two deaths had caused. The signs were subtle, but in my next few night patrols, I saw there was less cooperation among the street level thugs used by the various Confederation members. Members working for one member who were in the territory of another were treated with more suspicion, and each person's territory was patrolled a bit more vigilantly than before.
Sal Giordano being at Petrokias' shooting actually was a lucky break in our favor. I could understand why. After all, why was the smaller Confederation member hit while the big boss man himself not even shot at? The fact that Sophie had used a specially configured AR-15, a weapon that I was known to favor, raised even more questions. Was the hit done by me? But if so, how, when the room was rented to a woman, and the clerk swore that nobody else went in the room? If it was me, why didn't I take a shot at Sal, or was I working for him again? Was this just a way for Sal to unleash an unknown factor into the carefully balanced Confederation system?
Of course there were questions pointed at Owen Lynch as well. However, the death of Han Faoxin sowed even more confusion in that area. The Confederation wasn't sure what to think once the word got out who had actually been killed. The suspicion on Sal Giordano increased even further, as he was one of the few Confederation members who knew who she was, and routinely claimed to meet her in person.
"All in all, a good start," I told Sophie a week after the hits, as we were reviewing the paperwork to put Tabby in charge of our investments in the city. The biggest headache was setting up another shell corporation, which we named MJT Holdings. Thankfully, while a basic pain in the ass, I'd done shell corporations plenty of times before, and had a connection with a lawyer's office in Connecticut that could get us the paperwork quickly.
"So what's next?" Sophie asked, rubbing at her stomach.
I noticed she was looking a bit pale, and was concerned. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, her eyes tightening a little bit. "Yeah, just feeling a bit weird. I hop
e it's what we're wanting, and not that my smoothie I had for a mid-morning snack was bad."
My pulse quickened at the idea, and a silly little smile crept up my face. "You think it could be?"
"That my smoothie was off? It's a distinct possibility," Sophie joked, before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Relax, my love. Let's just wait until I miss a period, then get a home test. It's only been a few weeks, you can't tell this fast, not that I know of anyway. We've got other things to think about anyway."
"Yeah, like how we're going to entertain our houseguest," I said, thinking of Tabby. Since finding her in such a depressed state, Sophie had insisted, although I couldn't argue, and besides, it was nice having another person around such a large home. While Sophie and I did have a cleaning service come by twice a week, it was a large house, and I honestly felt like we were rattling around in it half the time. "By the way, I like the new red. A bit more flamboyant than before, isn't it?"
"It was, but we both agreed that a bit of overcompensation would help her mood. You know, kind of the whole fake it until you make it sort of thing," she replied, flipping a page on the document she was reading. I had to give Sophie credit, perhaps it was because of all the years of reading complicated medical stuff, but she had picked up reading business contracts with an eerie speed. There were a few times at first that I'd had to explain a few of the legal terms to her, but after that she was off and running on her own. "Caught something."
"What?" I asked, looking over from my computer where I was focusing on the next steps of our end game plan.
"Just a number error. On page four it says that Tabby will be compensated with fifteen percent of net profit, while on page six it says that she would be compensated with twenty five percent. Which do you want?"
"Twenty five," I said automatically. "What did we decide was the low ball of her pay?"
"Two hundred thousand a year, plus the house, cars, and other stuff. Not that she'd even be close to it with the twenty five percent. She'll be rubbing elbows with the one percenters very quickly with this."
I nodded. "Good. I was thinking, when we come back into town, we're going to need new identities."
"Yeah, you mentioned that before. I know you have the documents ready, but what did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking," I said, typing a few words on my keyboard to adjust something in our plan, "that Tabby could use a butler and maid."
Sophie looked over at me, making sure I was serious before grinning. "I think she just might. After all, this property is large enough for a servant's quarters. It would most likely be a very luxurious servant's quarters as well."
"Damn right," I said. "Maybe we can tell her about it this evening. By the way, how was her return to work today?"
"Seamless," Sophie said. "Our cover story of having her do out of office business trips went over perfectly with her bosses, especially when I came in there and stuck my boobs in their faces along with a pile of contracts for three more businesses."
I laughed and looked over, admitting to myself that Sophie looked especially beautiful that day. "Okay then. And she knows to use the excuse of a business dinner to get out of there by six tonight, right?"
"Either that or you show up as the business peacock and start making a scene," Sophie answered.
"There are downsides to every plan."
* * *
That evening, Tabby was shocked into silence as we showed her the contract for her new position. She read it over twice, her jaw dropping in more than one place as details jumped out at her. "You're serious with this?"
"Dead serious," I replied, muting the television. "Tabby, it's not just a cushy little job, you realize. While there is a basement level compensation there, your job won't be about just the money."
"What will it be?" Tabby asked. "The details are pretty generic honestly."
Sophie took over for me, which I was glad for. "Once our plan goes down, the city is going to have some very gigantic power vacuums. The political one should be filled relatively quickly, there are too many politicians who are more than willing to step up into Owen Lynch's shoes. By using some financial pressure, we can guide them quietly. But the bigger and more dangerous area is going to be in those very businesses that Mark and I have invested in. Tell me, what do they all have in common?"
"Just like you told me to look for, all of them are physically located in areas that are normally considered gang areas, but are clean themselves. Most of them are also in fields of business that have had a high level of corruption from the Confederation."
"Exactly. What do you think is going to happen in those neighborhoods when the Confederation goes down, and Owen Lynch's corruption is rooted out?" Sophie sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees while I listened the intensity creep into her voice. It was a part of Sophie that had never changed from her days working in the hospital. She was a person who wanted a better world than the one we were living in.
"In the long term, I hope that things are better for everyone," Tabby said, "But the short term is going to be turbulent."
"Turbulent is a mild word," I interjected. "The fact is Tabby, things are going to be seriously fucked up. Once the state and Feds come through, a lot of high up cops are going to be arrested, and the department is going to not have the support of the community. Meanwhile, the Confederation imploding doesn't mean that all of them are going to be arrested. Most of them won't, in fact. A lot of the higher ups are going to be dead, but the low level guys, the street soldiers, they're still going to be out there. Your job is to guide the businesses, keep them clean, and prevent them from being taken advantage of by the leftover criminals. Those neighborhoods and industries are going to need bedrocks to lean on, and the MJT Holdings are going to be those bedrocks."
Tabby sat back and considered the ramifications of what we were asking her to do. "The rebuilding is going to be harder than taking these guys down."
"It always is," I said. "So are you up for it?"
Tabby thought for only a second. "It says in here that I get a maid and butler. What's up with that?"
"You're going to need your own street soldiers," I said. "And with me out playing Dark Knight, I'm going to need a good place for my wife and child to grow up, somewhere safe where they have family with them all the time."
Tabby took the news in, then without another word got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. I heard her rummaging around in a drawer for a moment before it slammed, then a moment later she came back in, handing me the document. "Deal. I'll notify the firm tomorrow that I'm resigning."
After Tabby had gone off to the bath, Sophie came over and sat in my lap. "Thank you," she said, kissing me on the lips. "Although it still worries me that you still think you have to be a street level operative."
"I do," I said quietly, kissing her back. "The nice part is though that I shouldn't have to be in direct violence as often. Patrols, the proper use of fear, and dropping information to the suddenly more honest police force will be far more effective than what we have to do now."
"Do you really think I'm going to let you go out there by yourself all the time?" Sophie asked, kissing me again. "Maybe I like the vigilante life too."
"I'm not surprised, but you have a more important job," I said, pulling her close. Our kisses grew softer, and I moaned when Sophie climbed into my lap. "You're going to be raising the next generation, remember?"
"You too," Sophie replied, stroking my face and kissing me. Her tongue traced along my lower lip, and I could feel the slowly growing pressure of my cock hardening inside my loose house pants. Pressing her body against mine, we kissed slowly and sensuously. I stroked my hands up and down the soft skin of her back, relishing the amazing blend of soft curves and firm muscle I found underneath. She was quite the femme fatale compared to the medical student I'd fallen in love with while discussing Hans Zimmer music. Still, she was just as wonderful, and I was more in love with Sophie than ever.
Sophie wiggled her hips in m
y lap, grinding against my erection, both of us moaning at the feelings. I tugged at the edge of her shirt, trying to slide my hand underneath to cup her breast when we were interrupted by a polite cough from the doorway.
"Sorry guys, I just wanted to know where you kept the bath oils," Tabby said, wrapped up in a terrycloth robe. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Ah, not at all," Sophie said, tugging her shirt down and climbing off my lap. "I'll show you where they are. Mark and I just need to remember that we have someone else here right now."
I stayed where I was, knowing that if I stood up my already painful erection would become even more visible than it probably already was. Sophie leaned down and gave me a peck on the lips, then whispered in my ear. "Later tonight, my love. I promise you that."
I nodded and watched as the two beautiful women turned to leave the living room. "For what it was worth, it was a hell of a show," Tabby said to Sophie as they walked away. "I hope I only paused the action, and didn't cancel it."
"Tabs, it would take wild horses, an ice storm, and probably the sun exploding to totally cancel it," Sophie replied. "Trust me on that."
"You still haven't given me all the details," I heard Tabby joke. I couldn't hear Sophie's reply, but Tabby's reply of "whooo-oooo-oooo" certainly did wonders for my self esteem.
Chapter 47
Sophie
The next day, Tabby and I went shopping. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite the sort of shopping trip that she and I had indulged in when we were students.
"I can't even pronounce some of this stuff," Tabby said as she looked at the list Mark had given us. "Is this in Latin?"
"Not quite," I replied with a laugh. "It's just chemistry with a good smattering of brand names thrown in. Remember, you majored in business, I majored in medicine. I got exposed to a lot of this stuff during my undergrad and medical classes."
"So what is all this stuff supposed to make, anyway?" she asked, as she ran her finger underneath the third ingredient on the list. "And what is di-methyl-po..... I dunno?"
In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 48