In Too Deep(80)

The walk was good, it helped me think about my work. Besides, even with my reputation, there was no way I'd bring my Mercedes anywhere near the Warehouse District. If Sophie thought her North Side apartment was in a bad neighborhood, she'd never spent any serious time in the Warehouse District. It was the sort of neighborhood where you didn't show any signs of wealth unless you wanted to be robbed, and you made sure to wear very specific neutral colors.

Arriving at the Warehouse District, I thought of the strange skills I'd picked up over the years. I found the boxing gym and went inside, taking a moment to watch the mid-afternoon crowd of boxers training. They were a unique group, most of them journeymen who were trying to sharpen up before their next paycheck taking an asswhipping from some prospect, or perhaps dreaming of getting that attention-grabbing knockout.

The place was anything but glamorous, with old bags hanging from the rafters wrapped in layer after layer of duct tape, to the point that you couldn't tell if the bag was really intact any longer, or if the guy was just punching a giant column of tape. It made Mickey's gym from the Rocky movies look shiny and well maintained, but it still put out some of the best boxers and MMA fighters in the area.

My client was the reason why. He was sitting on one of the benches that surrounded the fenced octagon cage in the corner. A great trainer, he was also an astute businessman, who knew both the good and the bad side of how to work contracts and fights in a sport where, if you dug hard enough, you tended to find lots of Sicilian names in positions of power, although there were also lots of Russians, Latinos, and others in certain areas.

"Hey Greg," I said, sitting down on the bench next to him. "How can I help you out today?"

"Nothing too serious," Greg replied, his eyes never leaving the cage. "Kid up there has a fight coming up in a month. His opponent is pretty dangerous, and the odds right now are not in our favor."

"Okay, so you want a scouting report on him?" I asked jokingly. "Thought you guys swapped tapes nowadays."

"Not a typical scouting report," Greg replied. "Instead, I was thinking maybe you could pay his gym a visit, and.... verify a rumor I've heard that his opponent has a bad left knee. Nothing too serious, especially with the magnitude of this fight, but something that might make him a step slow on his takedowns, and a bit more vulnerable to low kicks."

"That sort of info would be very helpful to a trainer, especially if his fighter has a pretty good kick," I said. "What's the pay?"

"Not a lot," Greg admitted. "Say, ten percent of our winnings on the action, and of course you can put your own money in if you want."

I shook my head. "Greg, you know I don't gamble like that. You know I normally handle more high profile stuff than this, but I'll be happy to give this guy a visit. You got his information?"

"Of course," Greg said, reaching inside his shorts and pulling out an envelope. "It's on this SD card. Also a small gift, thanks in advance."

I felt the envelope, and felt both the data card and what was most likely a prepaid credit card, one of the methods of payment I preferred. "Mind if I take care of it this weekend? I can give you a call Monday if you like."

"Probably better to do it tomorrow, I've heard this guy doesn't like to do gym work on weekends," Greg replied. "But Monday is great. Like I said, this fight has some serious implications. There's going to be guys from Vegas at the fight, and they've been giving us a few calls. If my boy up there can get an impressive win, he's got his ticket to the big leagues all ready to go. So, thanks man. Say, you want to get some work in? Just take it easy on the kid, he's no match for you."

I chuckled and stood up. "No thanks, Greg. You know my style doesn't match up well in the cage." Greg nodded his head in agreement, then offered his hand to shake. We shook hands, and I was on my way.





* * *



Mark



Heading towards the nearest RIST station, I made a snap decision, and took the University train instead of the Park train. Getting off, I headed back to the hospital, checking the ER. Dr. Green was still on duty I saw, although he looked like he was getting ready to leave. I melted into the background, and shadowed Green as he left to head to the parking lot. When he got into his car, I noted the license plate, and watched as he drove away in a cut-rate Lexus.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed a number from memory. "Hey, Luka? Yes, it's the Snowman. Listen, can you do me a favor and run a license plate for me? I'll text it to you. Yes, yes, I know you owe me one, and this makes us even. Just need his address. Text it when you get it. Thanks."





Chapter 10


Sophie





After our late lunch date, I didn't see Mark until the original day we had planned, Tuesday. Friday was packed with classes, while Saturday I worked a double shift at the tavern, and Sunday a double shift at the hospital. Monday Mark said he was busy with work all day, so I used the day to rest and just go to my morning class.

Sunday was the strangest shift I had ever done at the hospital. I had been dreading the shift, knowing it was sixteen hours with at least eight of them being with Dr. Green. Boy was I in for a shock when I came in.

First of all, Dr. Green was wearing an eyepatch when I came in, one of those temporary ones that we give out to patients who have had an eye injury. "What happened?" I asked Brad, who was manning the front desk.