Chapter 13 #2
“Look at you already putting a ring on Lark‘s finger. I never said I was going to marry her."
“Oh, but you will. No Lawson has ever had a baby out of wedlock."
“There’s a first for everything in this family."
“Alright, be evasive."
“A magician never reveals his tricks, man."
“Fine. Just make sure you don’t elope. Axel gets a hold of that nugget of Intel, and he’ll have your face plastered on every rag in the world."
“Oh yeah, about that."
I’m about to tell him what I saw when Axl paid me a visit at the hotel. I'm surprised that Jagger hasn’t heard anything from him. “Oh, shit, that’s Wesley. I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later."
He ends the call before I can say another word.
Boston
Two weeks ago
I’m standing inside the foyer of the Hilton in New York, on a call.
It’s the middle of the night, and there’s nobody here, save for the guy at the concierge desk.
It looks like he could use a giant cup of black coffee from the coffee shop next-door.
The night manager asked me to wait by the bar, while they switch my room, which has somehow sprung a leak in the washroom.
“Word is it that they’ve got someone watching the plant in North Carolina."
“I can get an eye over there. What about the other?”
“You mean Bowie? Keep digging. There’s gotta be a weakness in there somewhere. Lawson Enterprises doesn’t have a fucking moat around them.”
“Did you hear about the daughter?”
“A daughter?”
“Isabelle Hopkins. They call her Izzy for short. She’s his secret weapon.”
I check around my shoulder to make sure that I’m not in earshot of anyone. It’s the second time I’ve done it in the last two minutes, but I can never be too sure. “Isabelle Hopkins, you say. How come I’ve never heard of her?"
“Like I said, she’s his secret weapon, and she’s been sniffing around the North Carolina plant."
“Does Bowie know her?"
“My contact hasn’t confirmed that yet, but there’s a pretty good chance."
“Well, if you find out something juicy, you just doubled your cut."
“And I know that you’ll pay up, too."
I hang up on him. The bar is about ten paces to my left.
Since it’s New York, the place never closes.
Right next to the bar, on the opposite side, that wasn’t visible to me, I see that there’s a small hallway, leading to some offices and a washroom.
There’s a guy standing in there. The hair at the back of my neck stands on end for a moment when I see him.
He doesn’t look drunk to me. I walk back to the bar, writing it off.
I order myself a single malt whiskey, and I take a seat in one of the empty tables. Moments later, the guy in the hallway walks by me, extra slow. My eyes follow him, and his eyes follow me. “Am I wearing your fucking hat, dude?"
“Look, I wasn’t spying on you or anything, but I overheard you say something about Isabelle Hopkins."
My teeth grate together. “What the fuck is it of your business?"
“My name is Chas. Dr. Chas Larkin. I’m a surgeon, and I was engaged to Isabelle Hopkins.”
At first, I think the guy is full of shit. “Get out of my face, asshole. Unless you’re on my payroll, I am not interested."
“You're Boston, Kruger, right? I’ve seen your face in business articles. You’re the one that lost out to Lawson manufacturing for Wesley Hopkins’s deal."
Anybody with half a brain and a grade five reading level would know that. “You’ve got about five seconds to get your ass out of my face, before I call security."
“Look, I know who you are. I told you I was engaged to Izzy. I can prove it to you, if you'll let me sit down. I've got recent photos of her and I together."
He stands there, waiting for my permission.
"You've got thirty seconds man, and I'm going to knock your fucking teeth out.
" Swiftly, he presents me with his phone, and he scrolls through it.
It takes him ten seconds to find a photograph.
He also shows me a recent texting string with her name clearly shown in the contact pill.
"And you were engaged to her." I confirm. "Were engaged. Meaning no longer."
"Yeah. She's fucking around with Rush Lawson now."
I sit back in my chair. "So, what's it to you? Why do you care that you overheard Isabelle Hopkins's name come out of my mouth, if you're formerly engaged to her?" I ask, gauging what his motivation here is.
"From the conversation, excuse me for overhearing, it sounds to me like you're looking for some retribution of sorts."
My face is blank and unimpressed. "What the fuck is it to you."
He looks around, similar to what I did minutes ago. "I know a guy. I'd like some retribution of my own."
If this guy is a surgeon, his needs are likely very tame compared to mine. "Yeah? What, do you want to spread some fucking rumor or something?"
He swallows. His gaze is on his fingers. A sneer crosses his face that makes me start to rethink my opinion of him. "I want her to pay. I want all of them to fucking pay."
"Yeah? And what can you offer me for such a request?
" I ask him, thinking that pretty boy here has a check book in his back pocket or something.
He's probably a trust fund kid who went to medical school on a scholarship.
His hands are soft and uncalloused, his hair is coiffed perfectly, like he's about to be shot for the cover of fucking GQ Magazine.
His goddamn suit costs as much as mine, too.
He's definitely got money, but so do I. That doesn't impress me.
Then he says something that makes me step aboard his fucking ship, no matter how goddamn lame it seemed at first. "I do surgeries and provide medical care not only for civilians all around the world, but for state penitentiaries and prisons, the like.
" He explains. "Sometimes they pay me back with whores, and sometimes they have, shall we say, other resources available to me.
Resources that can go undetected, things like that. "
"So, you know people on the inside, is what you're saying."
"Yeah."
"And how come you're coming to me then, man? What the fuck do you need me for?"
"It's not that I need you, it's what I can offer you. We can work together."
"I don't need anything from you." I say, testing him.
"You mean to tell me that your people can infiltrate state pens and hire hitmen to fuck the Lawson and the Hopkins family up? All by yourself?"
Well, now he's getting cocky. He's no longer the pretty boy with manicured fingernails, that looks like he would shit his pants if someone even suggested someone he knew committed an illegal act.
He's someone that I can get on board with.
"It's your lucky day, Chas." I stick my hand out for him to shake. "I know people, too."