In Too Deep(110)

I couldn't deny his points, and sat back. "Babe, I don't want to sound too nosy, but just how much money are we going to use to set up this facade?"

Mark grinned and looked over at me. "Who says it's all a facade? If we do this right, we'll end up with more money than ever. But up front, I was thinking in the fifteen to twenty area."

"Fifteen to twenty thousand?" Tabby asked. "Your repairs to Mount Zion are going to be more than that."

I shook my head and turned around to look at her. "He means fifteen to twenty million."

I'd never seen Tabby's jaw drop the way it did when the numbers rolled over her, and she grasped just how much Mark was worth. Finally, she just shook her head and looked down at her tablet. "Go upstairs with him, I said. Go have some fun. Good luck, I hope he's a nice guy, I said. Sheesh, and I ended up being dry humped by a thirty-year-old loser with a mortgage," she muttered to herself, and I had to chuckle.

"You give good advice, Tabs."

"Yeah, yeah. Think someday I could get an advisor's fee out of it?"

"You keep bringing us targets like you have, and you're going to be a very well to do business advisor within four years," Mark replied. "What you decide to do with that money, well, that'll be the kicker, won't it?"

The warehouse was bigger than I'd expected, but wasn't the largest on the block. The bottom floor had just over five thousand square feet of empty space with thirty foot high ceilings. The second and third floors could be reached either by stairs or a freight elevator near the back of the huge space.

"We're going to have to take the stairs, the power's off right now," Tabby said, leading us over. We climbed up the steel grating steps, our footsteps echoing in the empty air. "I haven't been here yet personally, so I don't know what the space is like."

"So far so good though," Mark replied, looking around. When we reached the second floor, Tabby produced a key which she used to unlock the door. With the stairwell, the second floor was smaller, but still spacious, and had obviously been a shipping office as well as what looked like a break room and cafeteria for the workers at one point. There were even some tables still sitting around unused. "I like it. Third floor?"

The third floor was almost totally empty, with only a single folding chair off in one corner. We walked the entire floor, our feet crunching on the dust and dirt that covered the concrete floor, and I looked around. "Well, it could become an office if we wanted," I said. "A few coats of paint, one of those potted plants in the corner, and we'd be good to go."

"I agree," Mark said. "All right Tabby, get the documents drawn up. Once we have the building title, I want workers here within two weeks. Until then, we'll use Mount Zion as our office, and gather up some more businesses. In the mean time, it's time to draw out Owen Lynch's friends."

"And how are we going to do that?" I asked, happy that Mark was taking my idea of a baited trap to heart.

"Two things. First, I'm going to crash a party. Next, you're going to take a photo, and then, we're placing an Amazon order."





Chapter 24


Mark




The night was perfect as I walked up the flagstone walkway to the Mayor's official residence. It hadn't taken much to wrangle an invitation to the Fall Benefit for the city's youth. It was the Mayor's current pet project, and with Marcus Smiley already making headlines for the past two weeks, I could easily go. I only wished Sophie was with me, but according to our plan I needed to attend by myself. It would be vital for the timing of everything.

I checked my tuxedo, and chuckled to myself. Before meeting Sophie, I'd worn a tux less than ten times in my life. Sure I'd worn suits, some of the best money could buy, but a tuxedo sends a different message. When you wear a tux, you want to stand out, and as a hitman, that's not something you want to do.

Now though, as Marcus Smiley, I had to play a role on top of being my normal self. In some ways it was great. I could invest money cleanly, and make a difference in public. I felt like in that way I was helping to take down the criminal empire that had infested the city. Maybe I was buying some atonement for my sins, but then again, I've never been a churchgoing man.

"Marcus Smiley," I said to the assistant at the door, who was checking off names against a master list on the iPad she had in her hands. She looked like your standard intern, probably a college student who was majoring in political science and getting some kudos along with most likely a job recommendation when she graduated. She was cute in that innocent college co-ed kind of way.

"Marcus..... Smiley?" she asked, recognizing the name. She looked up at me, and I had to give credit to the newspaper reporter who Sophie was doing most of the dealing with. She had that star struck look in her eyes, I hoped from the good press and not from my looks. "Ah, yes, you're right here. Donation box is there on the right, and enjoy the party."

It was a masterful move on the Mayor's part, I thought. By making the pledge box sealed but transparent, there was technically no reason for someone to even donate. However, if they did, there was the tightrope that everyone walked. For a minute at least once your slip fluttered through the slot, it could land face up on the pile. If you donated freely and generously, it would be noticed and you'd get commendations socially. If you were a tight-ass, that'd get noted as well. It encouraged donations that would get the sort of quiet kudos that these sorts of events were famous for.