Jason
“Are you fucking serious?”
Normally, I made it a point to keep my cool when communicating with staff. I was the man in charge, and any sign of being erratic had a way of ripping down to the rest of the company, shaking confidence.
But every now and then, you had to make a point. This was one of those times.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Ryder. Well, other than what I already have.”
The London-posh accent of Sean Maxwell, my contact in the UK, drifted through my apartment. On the screen above the fireplace in my study, his face stared back at me, bald aside from a few wispy lines above his dark eyes. He’d always reminded me of one of those crash-test dummies, his face typically blank and impassive.
But he was sharp. And more importantly, he kept me informed on all of my dealings in London. Anton’s division had been working independently for some time, only checking in when they’d felt it necessary.
They’d always been a money-maker, which was why I’d been fine leaving them alone. Apparently news had reached Peter Willows, the man in charge, that there was a possibility that I’d be shutting down.
This was bad.
“How the hell did Willows find out? This shit was supposed to be top-secret until time to finalize things.”
“He must’ve noticed when you started severing ties with the other clients—saw the writing on the wall,” said Sean. “I know you’ve been putting this in place and keeping it under wraps, but a move like this…it can only be so ‘secret.’”
He was right. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t upset. I took a deep breath, my eyes drifting down to the cup of coffee on my desk. I slammed my fist onto the surface, the black liquid rippling. Sean was nervous—easy to see. His smooth forehead was knotted with worry.
“Fucking hell,” I said. “The last thing I need is someone working under Anton going rogue. They decide to jump ship, they’re going to be out there with all sorts of information that could be used to take us down.”
“Then how do you want to play this, boss? You want me to talk to him?”
I shook my head. “That’d be bad. You meet with Peter and come to him with this information, and he’s going to know you’re feeding me everything he’s doing. You know what kind of reputation he has. Whatever he does, it…might not be good for your health.”
Sean nodded, and I knew he didn’t need me to press the point.
There was only one thing to be done, and it was the last thing I had time for.
“I need to meet with him.”
“As in, a video conference?”
“As in ‘in person.’ We’re going to need to come to some kind of arrangement, and a process that delicate can’t happen over an encrypted phone call.”
Another nod from Sean. “Tell me what you need me to do, boss.”
I didn’t need to think about it. “Get in touch with Peter. Tell him I’m coming into London in the morning and want to meet with him as soon as I do. Understand?”
“Understood. I’ll pass along confirmation once I’ve spoken to him.”
“Good. And keep me abreast of any developments.”
“See you soon, Mr. Ryder.”
The call ended. I tossed back the rest of my coffee despite knowing more stimulation was the last thing I needed.
It was all a mess. Nightmare scenarios play in my mind, ones that involved Peter deciding to break off from the company and go at it on his own. He was capable, sure, and likely would have no trouble establishing himself as an independent player in the London scene.
But I knew all too well that no matter how skilled you were, how well you flew under the radar of the law, your life of crime would catch up with you eventually.
Two possibilities would be on the horizon should Peter break off and go at it on his own. One, he’d be caught by London law enforcement. If that were to happen, the police would have access to enough information on me and my company to bring me down.
The other possibility was that some other criminal organization there would compromise Peter’s operations, getting access to the same information. And if that were to go down, what they’d do with it would make a few decades in a maximum security prison seem like a vacation.