Chapter 2 Maria
Evil liked to get together at glamorous places.
The Plaza Hotel, the one place where I didn’t want to be; and yet, the men whose corruption had gone unchecked were all in there in some conference room, laughing, drinking champagne, and talking about how they’d continue to pull one over the people of this city without anyone being the wiser.
The New York Tribune wanted me to be the fly on the wall in that room, find out what was happening in there, and then report it back to the newspaper.
As far as thrills went, I couldn’t imagine anything more adventurous.
A regular journalist sleuth, I was. Or at least I liked to imagine myself as one.
Just like tonight. It was a Saturday night, and the world was finally exhaling the long breath that it inhaled through the week. Children ran along the sidewalk with their parents, lovers in each other’s arms, all of them basking in the glow of Manhattan’s nightlife.
But then again, no law said that I—lead investigative journalist for the Tribune—couldn’t enjoy my time a little bit.
It wasn’t often that I got to be in Manhattan, and now that I was here, sitting in front of the grand hotel building with its French Renaissance chateau-inspired ornate windows, pale stone, and copper green mansard roof, I felt good. Giddy? Yes. But also good.
No one said it was going to be easy. But it was going to be worth it.
The new mayor was all about reforming New York and the Tribune was going to help him.
He needed to be nudged in the right direction.
He was a young guy, barely in his thirties, and he’d already solved the subway problem and implemented rent control and greatly improved the facilities for the New York public, including swimming pools, public schools, and parks.
He was a fan of the Tribune. Read it first thing in the morning. Now, if someone brought to his notice exactly how those corrupt factory owners were evading taxes, encroaching upon illegal land, and not sticking to code, well, those guys would be next.
I got out of my car and checked my reflection in the window.
It was good. I could pass off as someone’s secretary.
My black hair was sleek and running down my back.
I wore a nice dress, something that I liked to whip out every now and then when there was a formal event.
I went with my natural eye color. You didn’t mess with perfection, and what was more perfect than blue?
The heels were pretty damn uncomfortable though.
At twenty-five, I was no one to be complaining about heels. That was what one’s thirties were for. At twenty-five, I could strut across the street and enter the hotel building like I meant business. I could walk through any door. I was pretty enough, and in case I wasn’t, I was witty enough.
The dress completely bared my shoulders and my back, and revealed a good amount of my cleavage.
Was I comfortable walking around like this?
No. Did I want to? No. Did I secretly like the fact that heads turned my way and some men whistled while others just gawped, forgetting what they were supposed to be doing? Fuck yes.
I was in the hotel lobby now. More heads turned my way. I glimpsed and smiled and nodded my way to the elevator. I had to be there on the fifth floor, where the meeting called Quarterly Meeting of North Creek Businessmen was taking place.
Those guys were sweating. The new mayor was closing in on them, but he needed something tangible, something that could be reported, some numbers that didn’t match.
I opened the door and walked inside the room where evil sat around a big table. They did not look at me twice. There were other secretaries and assistants seated along the wall. That’s where I had to be.
“I’m Jimmy Donaldson’s assistant,” I said, flashing my fake ID.
The real assistant was back somewhere in Brooklyn, held back by a taxi stuck in a traffic jam.
Did I arrange for that traffic jam and possibly cause the taxi to break down?
Well, it was the only way for me to get in this room on such short notice.
The guy at the door, a towering henchman with a bald head and muscles bulging out of his suit, looked at my ID, then frowned at me, and finally nodded.
“You’re late,” he grunted.
“I’m sorry. Traffic jam in Brooklyn,” I said, biting down on my lip.
And then I sat down between two women I’d never met in my entire life. They had their laptops out, taking notes, their recording devices sitting on their laps.
“Where’s Eleanor?” one of them asked without looking up.
“Eleanor’s not coming,” I said, figuring I’d play it normally. “She sent for me instead.”
It wasn’t uncommon for a crooked businessman like Jimmy Donaldson to have more than one assistant. The man went through them like plastic straws, for crying out loud.
The two women shrugged and got back to work.
There he was, Jimmy Donaldson, presiding over the table as if he was the head of this entire operation. He was, and the way he dressed was just more sickening evidence. Whereas the other business owners were sitting there in proper suits, Jimmy stood there in a tracksuit and a gold chain.
“If one of us caves, we all gotta cave,” Jimmy said. “And that’s not going to cut it. If Faron over here starts to comply with the mayor, what are the rest of us going to do, huh, Faron?”
Faron Monroe was one of the businessmen who had a factory in North Creek, and he was the most prone to cave. He was going to go all legal, as the news had it, and tonight was about putting him in place.
Faron Monroe stood up and pointed his finger at Jimmy. That took some guts. I was slightly in awe of Faron. I immediately turned my Meta glasses on to record the entire thing, and began writing on my laptop.
“I give thirty percent tax, and let go of all the illegal land my factory encroaches upon, and I’m good to go. We all are. The mayor’s not unreasonable. He knows that it’s gonna take us some time to turn over a new leaf, but you’re not letting us, Jimmy.”
Jimmy Donaldson had the biggest factory in the industrial area, and was occupying more than a hundred acres of government land. He had also not paid taxes, and had been really chummy with the previous two mayors, paying them aplenty in bribes, making them look the other way.
But not Mr. Mathew, the new mayor of New York. Mr. Mathew was a liberal socialist at heart, and wanted the establishments of New York to pitch in. And those who weren’t were getting put on the chopping block.
“Please, feel free to let me know, any and all of you, if I’m the one who’s not letting you. Show of hands,” Jimmy said, staring around the room. His eyes caught mine for a split second, and then he was back to staring at everyone around the table.
Only a few people, including Faron Monroe, raised their hands.
“Well, how about that?” Jimmy laughed. “The majority is with me, Faron.”
“They’re just doing that because they’re scared shitless of you, Jimmy,” Faron said. Even though I could only see the back of Faron’s head, I could see that the man was sweating terribly.
“As well as they should,” Jimmy said, and then took out a pistol, pointing it at Faron.
I yelped. The gun wasn’t just pointed at Faron; it was pointed at me too since I was seated right behind him. I’d lost control for a few seconds and let out a small yelp, but the rest of the conference room had remained quiet.
“I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrow at me. “‘Cause you’re sitting where my secretary should be, and you’re sure as shit not her.”
All eyes were on me, including the eyes of the guards who were stationed at the entrance and exit of this room.
“Well, what are you doing standing there? Someone get her!” Jimmy said, stroking his forehead with the barrel of his gun in frustration.
At once, bedlam broke, and the guards broke into a sprint after me.
I did something that surprised everyone, including myself. I opened the window behind me and climbed out onto the fire escape.
A gunshot echoed in the room, and I saw a bullet whiz past me. That was close.
This wasn’t the first time my cover had been broken, but I couldn’t afford for it to be the last time. I was young; I had so much to live for, and oh God, these metal stairs were slippery from the rain earlier.
Shit.
I climbed down, not daring to look behind me to see how many guards were following me. I’d been made. Very soon, Jimmy would find out where his real secretary was, and he’d also try to figure out who I was, and when that’d happen, it’d be all hell breaking loose.
I slipped the window open on the floor below and climbed in, shutting it and bolting it behind me. I couldn’t let them see where I’d gone.
There was a ballroom right across the hallway. Without thinking of what I was doing, I ran and entered it, remembering that Robert Downey Jr. had done something similar in one of my favorite movies, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Uh-oh.
I may have lost the guards chasing me, but this was something else. I’d accidentally stepped into what looked like a charity auction.
Security guards were standing all along the length of the ballroom. Far scarier than the guards that had been following me.
I cast a quick, panicked look at the people gathered here, and there he was, another figure in the modern-day New York City mythos, Don Franco Romano, sitting there at the very front, facing the stage.
Fuck.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
I’d escaped from one terrible room and had entered one that was evil on another level entirely.
It was true.
Evil liked to get together at glamorous places.