In Too Deep(136)

"We have to go down there, see if we can get eyes on someone, maybe figure out what is going on. You think Sophie Warbird and Marcus Smiley might be up for a weekend visit to our most recent potential investment?"

"Why not wait until Monday?" I asked as he sat back. We faced each other, and I could tell that Mark was nervous. "Come on, talk to me."

"I'm concerned that the Confederation may be making the same connections that I'm sure Owen Lynch is doing," Mark replied after a moment. "They know that coming after Marcus Smiley directly creates too much danger to their operations, but by putting out these sorts of poisoned pills, these land mines if you can think of it that way, they can derail us without risk of exposing themselves. I want to go down there today for two reasons.

“First, they won't know we're coming, so they can't be prepared. If we call Tabby and go down there Monday, they'll know it and be prepared, giving us a whole dog and pony show that will surely be ninety-nine percent bullshit. We go down there today, and we might learn something."

"What's your other reasons?" I asked. "You said first as if you had others."

Mark nodded. "Yes. Tabby. You saw the way she acted the other day, I'm sure."

"Of course. We even joked about it."

"I remember. Sophie, what concerns me is if there is a connection between this guy that Tabby met, and Pressman Contractors. If there is, and they know who you and I are, then Tabby may have gotten herself into trouble again."

"Oh God," I moaned, standing up. "We should call her."

Mark stood up and took my hands. "No, there's no reason to panic," he said, giving me a reassuring look. "First of all, we don't know for sure. Also, even in Confederation companies, a lot of the workers are just ordinary people who are making a living. Only a small percentage are the real criminals. Finally, if they are trying to use Tabby to get to me, they're playing a long ball game. They know it didn't work before when they rushed it. Their most likely plan is to try and use her as a blind mole, someone who funnels them information on our operations without ever knowing they are doing what they're doing. She's not in immediate physical danger."

I felt Mark pull me into an embrace, and I relaxed, letting my tension flow into him. "Okay," I said after I was calm. Actually, I was a bit more than calm, but that's normal every time Mark hugs me. "So we go down there, and what do we do?"

"We be flamboyant," Mark said with a grin. "Rattle their cages, see what falls out. Is your Sexy Executive Suit still clean and ready?"

I grinned. "I have three of those, you know I have one ready. Which do you want, black or white?"

Mark thought for a second, then smiled. "White. It contrasts your hair more, and if you just happen to get a grease stain on it that pulls attention to your breasts, well, shucks, guess it can't be avoided."





* * *



Pressman Contractors looked like any of a half dozen other industrial companies Mark and I had visited for potential investment during our work. The front windows showed a somewhat cluttered but semi-organized mess of machine parts that I couldn't even begin to identify. The shop was somewhat dark, with a bored looking guy manning the counter. We drove up in our customized Bentley and got out, Marcus in his skinny-panted suit with counter stitching and pocket watch, me looking like an anime wet dream. Thankfully the suit was mostly Lycra, I doubt it would have been able to move otherwise.

As expected, the counterman first caught sight of the car, then of me. Marcus' plan to be a "business peacock" depended on me pulling as much attention from his face as possible, especially when he went into areas that the Confederation or Owen Lynch could have men who knew his old face. That and it helped distract from the spring-loaded knife blade he kept attached to his left wrist. A twist of his clenched left hand, and the top of his forearm would grow a ten-inch razor sharp spike faster than you could blink.

"Good afternoon," Marcus said as he came in. "This is Pressman's, right?"

The counter clerk, a reasonably handsome kid who stood about five-ten, nodded. "Yes, how can I help you guys?"

It was my cue to take over. "I'm Sophie Warbird, and this is Marcus Smiley," I said, offering my hand in such a way as to make my already noticeable cleavage roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. "Our investment firm brought over a file on this company, and while we understand it is a bit strange to be visiting on a Saturday, do you think it would be okay if we looked around, get a feel for things?"

"Ah, sure," the kid said. He looked like he was about seventeen, maybe eighteen, and I was sure that with the show I was giving him, I'd filed a long-term spot in his spank bank. "I'm Mike Pressman, my dad owns the place."

"Really?" Marcus said, reaching over and shaking the kid's hand. "Well, you're just the sort of person I wanted to meet. So what are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon when I guess most guys your age are out with a pretty girl?"

"Covering for my brother Scott, mostly," Mike said. "He was supposed to work the afternoon Saturday shift, but he begged me to cover for him. He's got a new girlfriend, and he wanted time with her enough to not only give me his pay, but an extra hundred bucks."

"Sounds like a good deal for you," Marcus said with a disarming smile. "I do hope the young lady is worth it for your brother. Tell me, is your father around?"