Forrest Grayson High School
Public Library
May 10th, 198X 3:15PM
After-school
The public library of Forrest Grayson Highschool was nothing extraordinary, but it still was brimming with the strong feeling that most would consider to be the higher standard of literature. The room was layered with countless shelves and other bookcases, creating the archways of hallways and aisles for the students to walk through. Each other the shelves housed some genre of book, some useful to assignments, others for taking a gander for their own entertainment through one of its many light reading novels, and to very few, its pages were often used for other medicinal purposes that could be performed in the dark corner of the room that stood away from suspicious eyes.
Harmon dug through the archival section of the library, filtering anything that had anything to do with listings of any famous or infamous wall street stock brokers or loan appliances within the last few years, in order to help him locate a better lead on what kind of target him and Fisk were dealing with. He still had the look of uncertainty as he placed each of the books that he managed to grab off the shelves into Fisk's already filled arms.
"Let's see. Anderson Deals, Wall Street Crash of the 1920's, The New Deal, Undercover reports of the Malley Firm from 1975...hmmm. Nothing so far that seems to point us to our target as of yet."
"Nothing?! Then why the hell are my arms filled to the brim with fucking books dude that you aren't going to use?!" Fisk snapped at him.
"Need I remind you of all people that you must be quiet in the library at all times?" Harmon said indifferently while still searching through the bookshelf.
"Need I remind you that I only have two fucking arms?!" He ended up yelling out. The librarian, a middle aged mouse woman with large thick glasses shushed him from across the room, even pointing and emphasizing the 'No Talking' stuck on the wall near the exit, written in bright red letters, clearing her throat with a snooty tone at nodded and smiled nervously, to avoid getting in further trouble.
Obviously the two were not only late to their homeroom, but Fisk had also stirred up a chaos by giving a revolutionary speech on why he shouldn't take today's history exam with his argument being that he didn't study given he 1) Didn't have enough time to study,(which wasn't true, the test had been announced since last week) 2)The material was on things that he had not yet covered in class(The teacher had remembered to list down a set of topics to review for the incoming test, and recommended everyone copy it down off the board, which Fisk did not) 3) And the purpose of history is destitute, as people should only be thinking about the future and not focusing on the past to know what they should do(This one requires no further explanation)
"Instead of raising a fuss any more than you should, why don't actually make yourself useful and try and narrow our search down some?" Harmon grabbed a handful of books and placed them on a nearby table, sitting across from a few students, a bunny girl, a hyena boy, and a cat boy respectfully. All of them were in awe of at the huge stack of books that blocked their own field of vision, the two had managed to gather from the library, taking it as them being merely studious on their part, though the truth was far from that. Fisk carelessly dropped his tall stack down, creating a loud impact, leading the librarian to shush him once more. He shrugged in confusion.
"I can try to do that at least. So...where do we start?" He asked as Harmon sorted through the content of the books, identifying them back the titles on their spines, and taking the one from the absolute top.
"For now, let's at least try and identify the company that this Linda's father hails. If it as illustrious as puts it, it most likely has a recognizable and well founded history that can be found in any other reference or archived entry of national history. The only problem being..."
"How do we make the connection to his company and 67's available to the public and expose the bastard." Harmon silently nodded."But hang on, what makes you think that a regular public library might have stuff on Wall Street? Shouldn't that kind of stuff being in a major archive?"
"The archives only focus on more broader events, like infrastructure and economic overlays that were carefully observed around those times it occurred. What we're looking for is a little...personal. We're trying to find a single most person and identify his fortune. Most of the people here perform biographies using the reference material given to them here, with a lot of the archive pieces here not only pointing to key events in a subjects lifetime, but official documents, listings, locations that might be useful when trying to track down movements throughout history. It's similar to how the government tracks down their suspects even after they keep everything private based instead of public based."
"Whoa, that's major." Fisk stood impressed at Harmon's deduction. He never understood anything that he's ever said to a full comprehension when it came to their cases, but he would always perform the most adequete action that best mirrored it."But, we never got a name from the old man, or even what kind of firm he was working for. How can we track something down like that?"
Harmon smirked with confidence as he started to flip through the pages of the topmost book in the piles, which had read "Reports of the Inner Workings of 1940's Wall Street: Revised Edition". Occasionally expose were performed on such topics, which had disclosed information leading back to grubbed stock brokers and their illegal commission based deals that would end up turning a wide array of their customers out of business because of their invisible rates that they would attempt to profit from, only to find out there was nothing for them at all. Because there were so many of these kinds of cases being revealed to the public that ruined most of their reputations, many legal battles have been held over the usage of their names and activities, or did not come to answer the questions that these reporters asked, which only lead to more suspicion.
"Though it wasn't known entirely, there was a enormous killing for an tiny insurance firm named Harvester Insurance and Appliances that ended up gaining a plethora of customers from its increasing reputation. They had a gander of stocks holding up their financial gains as well for their customers, meaning they could afford to invest more into their prospects."
"Insurance firm? Aren't they usually a separate business outfit that goes beyond government affairs? Private owned and whatnot?" Fisk pointed out.
"I see you have been paying attention during government class at least. Yes, that's correct. But it is also possible to put your business on the stock market once you can convince a certain amount of people to invest in your projects, and to ensure that they're putting money into a growing business. This firm did just that in those days." Harmon said as he quickly scanning the pages of the book with amazing speed, and memorizing all of its details from left to right. Within seconds he put aside the book and pulled the next one of the stack and repeated the process only less than a minute later with three more books. The people sitting across from them watched in complete shock at his stellar reading ability, and how with much haste he finished them, save for Fisk, who was used to such a sight in his time spent with him. According to him, calling Harmon a simple bookworm would be an understatement, considering he can easily speed read a 300 page book in under ten seconds and recall the entire plot from beginning, middle and end. Most of the books he had taken out were no more than 500 pages long, which would take the average person a week to read, given they take up at least twenty to forty pages a day. To him, this was a light read.
"According to the other two I put down, the insurance firm had eventually grown in to huge conglomerate off its stocks and business, all in the time span of six months."
"Six months?" Fisk's eyes shot open."Were there people expecting to die the next day during those times or something? I thought the 40's were the rolling era to live dangerously."
"Considering there was a war at the time, and various conspiracy theories of domestic terrorism emanating in major cities from possible spies, I would gather people at least wanted to feel safe within the confines of the safety bubble that they crafted for themselves, but that's not far from the truth however." Harmon said.
"What do you mean? Were there any major deaths or injuries during the year that this insurance company covered?" Fisk asked. Harmon shook his head, indicating a negative response."Then, how they-?"
"At least, none that were accidental." Harmon quickly cut him off. Fisk scratched his head in confusion, taking a minute to double take and process what he just stated.
"Accidental? You mean...they were all intentional?!" Fisk exclaimed in surprise, with his voice booming throughout the library, and leading the library to hush him once again, emphasizing the sound by the hissing in her teeth. This time Fisk paid her no mind, too focused on the task at hand."It can't be that simple."
"I beg to differ." Harmon chuckled.
"C'mon man, you should know that better than any one, accidental injuries and deaths are totally different from intentional ones. Police can tell the difference from a lot of angles when they go to investigate those cases, either through interrogation or just finding some kind of clue that leads them to it." Fisk gave his best answer, to which Harmon seem impressed, judging by his small smile. Wagging his finger and shaking his head, he quickly turned the statement down despite his response to it.
"Fisk, these are experts. Masters at their craft. If they have the resources to somehow bring a small commodity like an insurance firm from the ashes to becoming one of the biggest businesses in New York through simple claims and well placed investments from their customers, what makes you think they couldn't cover their own tracks as well?" Fisk was stunted for an answer, looking down around his feet, unsure of where his confidence went.
"Alright then." He sighed a heavy breath."How did they do it then? They've stayed in business for so long, they obviously had some help, right?"
"I was just about to get to that. It turns out, the stocks that the company held, were all being carefully monitored and utilized by a new stock broker that just came onto Wall Street at the time. A man who clearly had ambition, or simply a lot of friends in the right places that could get him the results he and the company were looking for."Fisk rolled his eyes.
"Don't tell me, let me guess. The asshole we're looking for?" He said with a irritated tone. Clearly he was upset about the idea of an insurance company using fake claims by for customers that under mysterious circumstances, had either died or had life impending injuries, but the fact that one lone stock broker was handling the whole thing under a guise that went unnoticed for over 40 years was too much to garner kind thoughts towards.
Harmon then took one of the previous books that he read, and flipped to a page with only one movement of his hand, and with his finger landing perfectly on his paragraph of choice.
"Here read this passage." He said, gesturing Fisk to read by tapping his finger on the page.
"Do I have to?" He defiantly groaned.
"Do I have to remind you that it was you suggestion that we help this fellow?" Harmon chided him. Fisk sucked his teeth, and reluctantly began to read off the page.
"Okay, let's see...
'Miraculous gains manifest yet again for this young broker for the second year in a row, as Kendrick Talcott takes home his latest commission report for closing his most recent deal with the CEO of Waterbrook Construction, ensuring them a full investment package for insurance claims, which have all been established as per agreement to all of the companies employees, giving them full coverage in every regard. This ambitious twenty two year old has had more than a lucky streak going for him, easily settling previous deals with the Fiscal Company of Renewal, and the Parker Urban Industries for signing on to the stocks of the insurance company Harvester Insurance and Appliances, easily putting them at the most demanded coverage in the last twenty years...'
Whoa, this guy made a killing off the investments made by big head companies for an insurance company that made fake insurance claims...oh wait claims with fake incidents..." Fisk remained silent, taking his fingers off the page, breathing heavily through his nose."Have I mentioned that I really think this guy is an asshole, and I really want to do horrible things to him?" He said boisterously, gathering everyone's attention again from his language.
"Not on that level, I'm afraid." Harmon coolly replied."Plus it should also stand that all of the companies mentioned all had to file bankruptcy due to a lack of stable employees, and were in severe withdrawal of new ones."
"Makes sense. I mean nobody wants to work for the company where there have reported deaths happening almost every day of the week because of an 'accident'." Fisk shrugged.
"That is also true, but what is that they all have in common with one another?" Harmon poised his question to his friend. He lightly tapped his finger on the side of his chin as he immersed in thought, soon snapping to realization.
"They're all urban renewal companies."
"Correct, and if you can recall, the area where 's shop is located, has been due for a renewal project for the past year or so. They practically have all of the money to proceed with its prospect."
"But that's a whole city block! They can't just tear it down because a few mom and pop businesses are barely making ends meet."
"That's precisely why they're doing it, not to make sure that they can put new businesses there to replace the old ones, but to send a message of change that arises from a supposed failure to a improved success. It is a textbook definition of gentrification of old appliances, so it really makes perfect sense."
"Never thought I would hear you say that." Fisk nudged Harmon at his arm with his elbow.
"There's really not much input that I could offer that you would find favorable unfortunately, seeing as how I'm originally not from here myself. It would be better than claiming that this is a place that I would defend at all cost since I call it my home. Such things would be hypocrisy."
"Kinda like what you're doing right now?" Fisk grinned with eagerness to catch Harmon off guard for his statement.
"I simply do this to satiate my boredom. Additionally, you don't seem unpleasant, so two and two go together I suppose." Harmon said as he sunk his head back into the book he gave to Fisk to read. Fisk playfully shook his head at him. In all the time that he had known him, he would have never thought to see the day Harmon would act bashful towards any subject that had to do with him or the town in general. Then again, being obviously more blunt than his peer, he found such behavior to be cute considering its deniable attitude.
"Uh-huh...right. Keep telling yourself that." He then wrapped his arm tightly around Harmon's and suddenly closed the book, almost jamming his finger from the impact."So? What's the plan? We obviously know the guy is somewhere in town, we just gotta find out where right?"
Harmon rolled his eyes, pulling himself away from Fisk's grip, and then went over to the front desk and grabbed an issue of today's newspaper. He opened it up, forcefully flipping through several of its pages, creating a loud and disruptive sound coming from the rustling of the paper. The librarian stared at the two boys again with a face absolutely teeming with anger, and a growing notion to kick them both out.
When reaching the page of his choosing, he then placed it on the table in front of Fisk, pointing to a particular article in the current events section. The headline read in big bold letters
BANQUET TO BE HELD IN CEO KENDRICK TALCOTT'S HONOR IN THE LAWSON BUILDING AS IT CELEBRATES ITS ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY
The picture hovering under the headline showed a spectacular and towering structure of a building in the background, with its gleaming windows reflecting the blue sky in an almost idyllic fashion. In the picture, numerous cameramen and news reporters surrounded a large and rather handsome looking black dog dressed dapper in a cuffed business suit, with his whitening hair slicked back to further compliment his old age, yet superior fashion sense. He stood confidently, holding an official looking document in both hands, which the boys could only assume was a contract of sorts indicating the various properties included in the renewal project, including Leland's own store.
Fisk's eyes popped out at the page, amazed by the possibility of entry that is drawing him and his friend closer and closer to this case.
"That my friend, is public knowledge, and a factor I should have figured since I heard about it firsthand. The Lawson Building is a placeholder for Talcott Industries new expansion project."Fisk nodded in agreement.
"Not only that, this building looks brand spanking new, not nearly as old looking as some of the other skyscrapers you would find around Buckhead, that's for sure."
"That's due to its rather its excellent conditioning that is performed on it daily. It's takeout for the construction easily must have cost millions at the very least. Which could only come from decades of selling stocks built on fake insurance claims. Also, check the date on the tagline of when the building was completed." Harmon pointed to a small detail in the article, highlighting the date.
"May 8th, of last year..." Fisk read with a focused expression, soon his eyes shot open with surprise."Wait a minute. One year ago...that was when 's...!" Harmon nodded eagerly. The two boys both gave big smiled to each other, putting a few of the others sitting around them on an uncomfortable edge."Holy shit! Man, we got this guy now!" Fisk screamed out in excitement thrusting his arms in the air, with his voice echoing throughout the room. Within seconds, the mouse librarian strutted over in her aged clothes and giant glasses with the frames resembling diamonds with particularly sharp edges around them. She stood directly behind an unknowing Fisk, creating the sound of her clearing her throat, grabbing the attention of the boys.
Harmon and Fisk walked downstairs from the third floor coming to contact with the ground floor where droves of students were seen careening from every corner of the room as the dismissal bell blared in everyone's ears. The boys walked towards the exit, following separately along with the crowd, closely gripping their freshly made detention slips in their hands.
"So...uh...you got the address right?" Fisk awkwardly asked, attempting to make conversation from the silence traded between both of them, but drowned out by the noise of the other kids.
"Yes...I uh...copied it down before our...premature exodus." Harmon quietly responded. Both of them had the expressions of two young men that have had the fear of God etched into their brains, refusing to speak on the events that just transpired just a few minutes barely ten seconds, Fisk could heard muttering under his breath.
"So just for the record...ummm...faculty can't curse at the students...can they?" He asked Harmon.
"If the cursing was performed in over twenty languages...plus three dead ones...I'm certain it doesn't matter..."
"Right...ummm...don't call me crazy...but...I think she called me a 'cheap ass shit-eater' in Italian."
"How do you know what Italian sounds like?"
"My mother had a lot of boyfriends..."
Lawson Building a.k.a. Talcott Industries HQ
Macon, Georgia
May 10th 198X. 4:00PM
Looking at a huge monument of a building seemed to be more of a monolith to young Fisk Black, as he hardly ever got to gander eyes on such a structure on a daily basis, especially in a small town like Macon. To him, it seemed the height of the roof itself gave the idea that it would pierce the very heavens themselves, not that he could understand such logic if one were to apply philosophy to such an argument. The Lawson building was a thing to behold no doubt. Standing at over 40 stories tall with floors exceeding all the way into the double digits and possibly even further. The gleaming lights of the looming sunset reflected of the windows of the building, showing brief glimpses of the inside rooms and office section. Crowds of people entered and exited out of the building, all dressed in expensive looking suits and dresses, easily identifying their positions within the structure and the company, ranging from business associates, sales managers, business managers, and so forth. The way they walked was enough to intimidate anyone who thought themselves on equal platforms with their ilk. Though Fisk was hardly put off. He never considered to be higher than anyone. He only sought to be himself.
He then sat back down in his cafe seat, sinking his eyes back down onto to the well crafted table, and then viewing the shallow blackness that was his coffee cup. Despite his taste for caffeine was less than ideal for him, he actually found it rather calming for him when staking out a target. Though he doesn't drink it not only for this reason, but he could no longer tolerate Harmon's lecturing on it.
Harmon sat in the seat across from him, displaying one of the newspapers that he had purchased earlier from one of the vendors. He quickly flipped through the pages, scanning every single detail of its contents from the sections diverging from current events to sports and to horoscopes. Fisk stuck his hand out waving rather annoyingly in Harmon's face, hoping to catch his attention.
"So, how are we gonna do this? Do we have some kind of plan of how we're gonna get in?" He asked him.
"You're just presenting this thought to me now? After we just spent an hour on the bus?" Harmon chided back, as if to point out Fisk's own negligence before the accusations of his own.
"Hey, what was I supposed to do? You're usually the one who draws up the plays, and I just run 'em! But we've sat here in these seats for about twenty minutes, and we haven't even moved a finger yet towards the doors at least. But then again, not like we could." Fisk said, nodding towards the guards placed just outside the doors, standing adjacently on each side of the doors. Making them out from the front entrance alone, there was about four of them posted outside, guarding both entrances into the building. It was practically a guarantee for there to be even more posted on the inside, and in even greater number than a measly four. Considering their heavy build, there were likely to put up a considerate fight against the two youths.
Harmon peeked his head up at the front entrance, taking the various details of their current way in, or at least the most obvious one.
"The front entrance is guarded you mean? Of course it is. And its likely that the back entrances connecting from the parking lots are also covered as well seeing as how the traffic is being diluted into the entrance."
"No doubt there's some high rollers attending this little shindig. Pretty much everybody that owns a piece of the color blue is gonna be here. So that means, there's gonna be a lot of witnesses here."
"Indeed. That also means that even if we were to somehow take out the guards and sneak in undetected, we would be made out almost immediately, considering our rather uncouth attire."
Fisk looked down at his white shirt and blue jeans combo, wiping the dust gathering on it, and taking in his appearance, nodding in agreement to his friend's statement.
"We could steal a couple of suits from one of the dressing rooms to try and blend in." He suggested with a gleaming face.
Harmon slowly shook his head, with barely any hesitation." I'm afraid even with a suit, there's a certain lack of etiquete that we sorely have. Especially one of the present company."
Fisk raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself in great regard.
"You trying to say I ain't got no manners? For a country boy, is that it?"
"Manners are one thing. The ability to play the game is a whole other affair all together." He placed his finger on his chest, tapping it a few times before quickly flicking his nose once his head pointed downwards."A high society crowd are highly observant individuals, not only believing that every piece of a persons clothing tells them who they are, but from details that would hardly suspect, such as movements, body languages, how they move their lips even, several aspects such as that."
Fisk rubbing his nose from its minor sting sucked his teeth in disbelief.
"Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you read that out of some book somewhere as well?"
"I have been trained in such arts since I was small. My mentor wanted me to be able to blend in any environment regardless of my social standing. High societal gatherings such as this, I have been attending for as long as I can remember.
Fisk eyes popped open in surprise. Though he had a rather stoic air about him that seemed regal in a sense, he would have never expected that such a place and such methods interacting were second nature to him.
"You say your mentor taught you? What else did he teach you?"
He looked up at Fisk's inquisitive face, seeing the curiosity in his eyes. For a brief-and just a brief second- he saw himself as a child again. So eager to learn everything around him, and to indulge in everything that the world had to offer, in attempts to find the answers to any questions that he might have. He chuckled at the comparison, which his friend took notice of, tilting his head in confusion.
"I say something funny?" He asked, slightly irritated.
"Not at all." His previous smile quickly faded."That's a tale for another time I'm afraid. Right now, we have a job to do." He then threw focus right back into the task at hand."So, now that we have spent our stake out discussing of what we're against, I assume you have a plan to get us in?"
Fisk was taken aback in shock, leaning back in his seat.
"Wait a wait? What now?"
"Do you have a-?"
"I heard you the first time. But why is it up to me?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it because of your conviction to help old man Ronson that we are in this situation in the first place?"
"Yeah, but we agreed that we both would be on board with it!"
"For the execution? Certainly. As far as planning and creating our method of entrance, I'm leaving that entirely to you my friend."
"That's not fair!" Fisk exclaimed."You're the egghead here, not me! I can't just come up with a plan like you do."
"No? You seemed to have thought out the means to help out him out earlier. Who is to say you cannot do the same thing here and now?"
"Even so..." Fisk fidgeted around in his chair in pure uncertainty, which was a first witness of his behavior for Harmon, considering his rather boisterous and confident personality. He calmly placed his hand on his trembling shoulder, feeling the stiffness in his body.
"I would not place the details of the plans in someone if I didn't trust them outright with anything. That's exactly what I doing for you right now.
"I still don't know what possessed you to want to try and aid a down on his luck old man when there could other pressing issues that we could put our focus towards, but then I remembered., this is exactly why you pushed for us to do this kind of thing in the first place." Various flashes appeared before Harmon as he went on with his speech. It looked the same as it always has in his mind, sitting in that usual cell, decrepit and ruined all around as far as the eye could see with his sights aimed directly at the walls, in complete silence. "You did not want him to be helpless in his situation, so you took it upon yourself to do it for him. Because you know...what it's like to feel helpless, to be trapped in dire circumstances with everything happening before you...that you have no control over. To be racked over the guilt of a loved one lost because you were incapable of doing anything else.
"It's why we do this, and why you chose to help him."
"Man, I was just being nosy. I had no business getting involved in his mess, and he even told us to not worry about it ourselves."
"I would agree with him on that regard." Fisk frowned at that comment."But, if you weren't always so eager to jump into someones business, I am uncertain at what my fate would be."
Fisk laughed awkwardly, as if to cover up an embarrassing story from his past.
"Yeesh. You still think about that? That still feels like so long ago."
"It was only a few months ago."
"Still though..."
"My point being, your persistence will bring forth results. And this is the first place to reign in that very persistence."
Fisk took a deep breath, taking in his friends words, and internalizing them. Though he was one to simply take action over planning, he was not without thought over the consequences or the regrets that come with that action. Harmon knew that about Fisk, despite it not being so obvious. He felt that it was not only his duty as his partner, but his friend, to draw this out of him.
"Man, you really know how to give a fancy speech don't you?"
"A speech is nothing without someone to listen to it." Harmon held out his hand to Fisk signaling a handshake. He grabbed his hand with a tight resolve and grip
"So now...I'll ask you once again." Harmon smiled."What's the plan partner?"
Giving himself a minute to do his scan on the building himself, he glanced at a particular part of the structure that started to catch his eye, and a particular individual going to it, dressed in dirty overalls and pushing a garbage can forward, with various cleaning tools equipped to it.
"Let's just say...it's gonna get a little...dirty."
The CEO's office stood at the absolute precipice of the entire building complex, far outstripping every other office that was placed on every floor. Even the walls themselves were decorated in lavish fashion, befitting exactly that of an accomplished businessman, or at least in the eyes of the grand public. Kendrick Talcott was a man that considered his life's work to simply be a means to higher calling in society. To be able to propel himself on account of other's expense, but to be justified by it. At first, he was stunted with disbelief that such a reaction could be put onto his image from the methods performed to bring him to his current position, but quickly solidified it as his manner of gaining capital from an everlasting source. His investments in insurance claims were the stuff of legend from his Wall Street days. Easily gaining over $300,000 dollars in stock from his investments from small time insurance firms in his first week of working there.
Although he did turn some heads, there were always means of converting such views in an opposite spectrum should you have such means to do so, and with the gains that he was claiming from his vast amounts of business ventures, he most certainly did not lack in such a department.
He stared at himself for about a few minutes in the mirror with narcissistic glare, admiring his appearance for the future events that awaited him in less than another hour. Adjusting his tie, he scanned his suit, keeping a lookout for any wrinkles and spots, not that he needed to worry frantically about such things for man of his stature. He would fill out just about any appearance, regardless of any shortcomings in it. Talcott smiled widely at his reflection, pleased with what he saw in his custom designed suit with black silk and brown Italian shoes to top off the dress of an elite. Of course, that's now it always for him as he remembers.
Like all successful businessmen, or at least as they claim to be, Talcott comes from humble origins growing up on a small farm in Ohio with barely a dime to his name in a town that was racked with grief by the war. Seeking to venture out into the world that surrounded him as a boy, he ran away from his drunk of a father and squanderer of a mother at the tender age of twelve all the way to New York. He worked late night shifts at countless restaurants and diners just to make sure his stomach was filled for the night and for the morning. As a side activity he also gambled what little money he maid from his wages, and surprisingly found success in them, usually making away with three times than what he normally worked off.
Making a name for himself in the gambling circles around the city, he started to grow ambitious, attempting to gain a lock on further means of gaining money, his only desire next to nothing. Despite not having a formal education, Talcott was remarkably well read and intelligent in anything having to do with numbers specifically, being able to know the ins and outs of an economies functionality at only five years old. After realizing that his gambling activities could either land him up in a prison cell or at worst dead, he decided to use the money to promote himself in the field of business by buying up local insurance firms. Talcott knew that the most thing that people wanted the most, was protection from injury or any fatal accident, and begun to spin his plans in motion. Using his underworld connections, he started to ensure that the customers that signed on to his firms would get their money's worth by setting up "accidental" incidents, giving their customers incentives to invest more money in their claims with his firms, often resulting in fatal injuries or death, which had ended up being his golden goose in his field. The methods were very discreet as well, often with the customers not even detecting that their injuries were intentional, nor the police at the time. His firms went on to be very successful, making it inevitable that he would take his business prospect to Wall Street and translate it into stocks, putting him into the position he is in now. CEO of his own company that provides means and other resources for urban renewal projects to make way for better and safer communities. Though his business hasn't extended as far as he would like to in the rest of the country, many papers suggest that it would only be a matter of time, since his fiscal results from last year had exceeded almost anything earned by businessmen in a similar field. Often he is asked of his success, and while he feels tempted to give the most factual answer, he remains in a humble spirit.
This is the side that he keeps hidden from others, namely the public. The face seen in newspapers and radio interviews, is the man that has built himself a foundation using hard work and effort, using the system to better himself and in the process, others as well.
A loud chiming noise went off on the phone's intercom placed neatly on his desk, with the red light flashing repeatedly. On the other line, a sultry sounding voice could be heard briefly clearing her voice before speaking.
"President Talcott. Several of the guests that you have placed on the legates list are beginning to arrive in the main lobby, also the investors from the urban renewal project are here to discuss the fiscal results of future prospects, they await you in the conference room."
"Send the investors to the main lobby along with the other guests. Regardless of what business they have to discuss, they shall do it where I am surrounded by purpose of my celebration. I do not wish to upset any of my guests with such professional drawl."
The receptionist on the other end waited for a few seconds before responding to Talcott.
"Very well sir. Also, your daughter is here to see you."
Talcott raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He had not seen his daughter since her wedding, after which she practically stopped keeping in contact with him. Talcott had raised his daughter to completely obedient towards him and him alone, especially in matters concerning her own well being. Everything had been decided for her, from her education, her physical appearances, her social etiquette, and her mannerisms. All of which Talcott had perfectly engineered for his own creative means of extending the empire he had built. For the majority of her life, she barely, if not, never questioned her father's wishes, creating the gilded cage that surrounded her for a number of years, until she broke free of it through the most unsuspecting means. Her late husband was the last person that he considered to be deserving of his daughters attention, much less her supposed affection, and had tried on many occasions to dissolve the bond before it could fully develop into an unwanted thing of impossible circumstances, unfortunately it only created negative results, as Linda ended up rebelling against her father, and for the first time in her life, showing her free will, and breaking free of the cage placed over her life.
"Very well, send her in."
"Already done sir. She is presently making her way to you now."
The sound of the intercom cutting off echoed through the spacious office, bringing an almost pleasant sound to his ears. He walked over to his mini fridge placed covertly under his desk. Opening the tiny door revealed the contents of the insides, expensive and varied wine glasses as far as the eye could see. He decided that it would be for something the occasion of meeting his flesh and blood after so many years , but nothing too heavy as to upset his balance and moral compass for the confidently grabbed the French Red wine bottle that sat in the near back of the fridge that was cool to the touch, and grabbed two clear glasses off the nearby shelf, and started to pour the wine into the glasses. The red stream of liquid trickled into one of the glasses, filling it up to the halfway point and stopping to do the same to other glass, only going nearly up to the tipping point, which was most likely his glass, and the former his daughters.
He took his glass in his hand, neatly placing it between the middle and index fingers of his right hand, and begun to swirl it in his hand, allowing the red liquid to swish around in the glass. He overlooked the clear view of his office window, which had stretched easily over several feet, giving him a large overview of the entire city district, giving him perfect sight of almost everything blanketed by the radiant setting sun.A grin then began to form on his face, forming from cheek to cheek.
It will be mine. It's only a matter of time. He thought to himself.And I have that fool to thank for it all.Though the insult was clear in his mind, it didn't indicate who he was referring to. It wouldn't be surprising to think that Talcott had made enemies in his line of work especially from his Wall Street days, where he was often the item of envy from many of his peers due to his success in profits at such a young age. Although it would be doubtful that many would continue to pursue him after his success.
Suddenly, a small knock could be heard on the other end of the massive doors leading into his office.
"Enter." He declared out loud, and the hinges on the lock came off, opening the door. He didn't bother turning around to greet his guest, as he knew full well who it was. Through the door, entered a white furred poodle, both curvaceous and beautiful in appearance with her baby blue eyes, and long puffy white hair tied together at the very end. She had stood at a slightly above average height, dressed in a modest garment with black silk and red steaks surrounding the waist area and black heels that further extenuated her nearly perfect figure.
She slowly approached the desk of Talcott, seeing herself perfectly in the reflection of the large glass window, as well as him, her own father.
"Care for some?" He extended the hand that held the wine glass with his free hand tucked eloquently behind his back."It's a Chierion '34. A fellow that I knew back in Windhr gave this to me as a sign of our friendship and business. It's blended with a special tasting succor of cherry mixed with various other fruits, with just a hint paprika to give it an extra kick in flavor. This drink won several awards in Paris five years ago you know. For its exquisite taste, and the outstanding demeanor it presents at celebratory occasions such as this one. It's meant to celebrate new beginnings, and the reunification of bonds once lost.
Linda stood there with a minor scowl, slightly disgusted at her fathers indifference to her presence.
"I didn't come for a drink father..." She said rather calmly, though Talcott could detect the menacing tone in her voice. She was clearly no longer the daughter he groomed her to be.
"A grown daughter refusing to exchange drinks with her own father? I'm shocked to hear that. I only wish to celebrate this reunion on more informal terms. Is that so much to ask?" Talcott said with an almost suave tone. Linda knew her father well, and this particular trick that he used to be elude the real intention of a person, and consume them with his own intentions instead. The true sign of a charismatic person that has time to perfect the technique over the years.
"Reunion? I know you came to Harvey's funeral last year."
"There was a funeral? I had no idea that father of his could even finance such an event. He must have a lot more hidden finances than I gave him credit for. To think that a veteran such as himself could find ordained success. My original impression of them was that they were all crazed drunks that ended up in a ward somewhere." It was a clever yet sarcastic way of stating that he wasn't at the funeral. Feigning ignorance without actually saying anything was remarkable way of conversation that was common language for men of Talcott's cloth. Though it didn't make much difference, as Linda glared at him intensely. She could see through all of it, as she should.
"I know you knew there was one. The perpetrator always returns to make sure his crime was carried out successfully." She said, making the accusing tone in her voice known to him.
"Perpetrator?" He laughed."You wouldn't be referring to me, would you? You would accuse your own father of a crime that he did not commit."
"Is there no other person who could have made it possible? Harvey was driving the car that you gave him for our anniversary, and the brakes were purposefully cut out from what the police found out at the scene of the crime. Not to mention you took over all appliances that led from over to you. It can't be anyone but you!" Linda responded with her counts of evidence. Though Talcott remained calm in the judgement process.
There was silence in the air for a few seconds. Talcott took the time to take another sip from his glass and briefly turned his shoulder at an angle to look at his daughter through his peripheral vision. He was genuinely surprised at her appearance, as he flashed to images as a child, innocent and pure according to his eyes that did whatever he told her to without question. A profound ruse for keeping someone under control.
"Are you saying that I had something to do with your husband's death? Dear Linda, you ought to know better than anyone, I'm not in the field of business anymore. I am, how do the youth say, rolling straight. And plus, I have nothing to hide from you, my own daughter. What kind of father would I be then?" He said, giving the pretense of a concerned and hurt father.
Linda sighed in disbelief at the dishonesty that she was receiving from him, and the fact that she had received for all of those years throughout her childhood. Always being told that 'no matter what happens, always listen to your father' or 'your father well guarantee that you will never struggle at all in your life'. Words fed to a child that would result in absolute obedience, but to the ears of an adult, a trap disguised in kindness. And she knew it as well. Her free will robbed with her own compliance, and not being any the wiser.
"Even now, after all of these years. You refuse to admit your crimes, even to your own flesh and blood."
"My dear, the only crime that I have ever committed was not leaving enough of a tip of a certain bellboy that I am certain my secretary is having an affair with. I almost feel bad that his termination would have to come only just after I hired him just last week. Such a cute way of showing spite, I must admit, but he will understand the process of it all." He paused to take another sip."Even though I was not particularly...fond of your husband...I still respected him as man. He was well mannered, bright, successful in his career, and best of all, he somehow managed to gain your hand, all while convincing me that is the duty of a father to oversee and even...how should I say...make sure that my daughter is in good hands."
"To think you say this now, even after he's dead...Unbelievable."
"The boy was perfect for you, I certainly see that now."
"You were against our marriage from the very start! You couldn't cope with the reality that I was beginning to change, to think for myself. How someone made me open my eyes for the very first time without needing to rely on anyone, and realize what you were doing to me this whole time."
"What I was doing? What was that exactly Linda? Being a father to you? Raising you on my own after your so called mother refused to do so? Gave you a roof over your head? Fed you? Gave you the finest of clothes, jewelry, and belongings that a little girl could ever ask for? Education from the finest schools, connections that gave you status? Giving you all the advice that you would ever need, 'listen to me, and everything will be alright?' Where exactly did I go wrong with raising you dear girl? Please inform me of the horrible things I did to you?"Even though the words were spoken from his tongue, Linda shook her head at it all, for none of it gave any weight to her feelings. Which were all she could hold onto for her to think straight.
"I can't believe you. You still don't understand what you were doing to me all of those years? You don't understand how much freedom I gained when I met Harvey. The feelings that I gained, the love that I felt when he took me into his life, meeting his father, hearing his story. I felt...alive. More alive than I had ever thought I could be."
Talcott chuckled to himself, which had grown into a full blown laughter that echoed through the room and had rung his own ears with how loud it was.
"My goodness! I have never, in all of experiences of attending Broadway plays, have heard a monologue spoken so gaudy before. Tell me, did that crazed old man tell you to say these things to me? To somehow give some higher meaning to how you turned out the way you did? If so, I need to find him and give him a handshake personally and the card of a screenwriter that desperately needs his talents!"
Unfazed by her father's obvious insult, she pressed on to say."So...you know why I'm here then?"
"Haha! Unfortunately no. Other than the amusement you are giving me right now, and a rather conflicted emotional turn of course. But I take it I don't need to ask, seeing as how you will tell me anyway?"
For once, we agree on something. Linda thought to herself. With a straightened back, she marched up to his desk, slamming her hands harshly on the table, almost knocking the wine glass down.
" 's shop was attacked earlier today by the 67 gang. They left his shop in shambles. He doesn't have enough money to pay for the damages, and his insurance isn't nearly enough cover that, and the debt he owes you."
"Attacked by ruffians, eh? I'm not surprised. He always did attract the uncouth sort." He chuckled again before taking another sip from his half empty glass. "Are you suggesting that I had something to do with the attack? I have no association with them as far I'm concerned."
"Don't play dumb with me. You recommended him to a money lender that was sponsored by the gang in order to pay you back for the legal disputes after Harvey died. Which was all moot considering that you yourself had already paid off the disputes from a third party name, and the money that he gave you, is gone isn't it?"
"How was I supposed to know that such an official bank had been shaken down by one of the largest gangs in the state? The fellow that leads them, what his name...Clayton? Do you honestly think I would do business with any financial establishment, knowing it was headed up by a felon?"
"Heh, and here I thought that criminals couldn't stand to do business with each other."
Talcott's smile quickly faded, turning into one of scorn.
"Linda. If you call your father a criminal one more time, I won't hesitate to give the discipline you so rightly deserve." Linda chuckled lightly to herself, since she couldn't believe what she was hearing from an old man such as himself. A senior threatening to beat his own grown daughter was almost laughable in her mind.
"So you don't deny your involvement?"
"What involvement? I have no involvement." He said in a monotone voice.
"Then how do you know Clayton then? He isn't exactly posing for magazines considering he's technically an escapee from death row. The only you would know about him and his current activities is that you deduced it from his imprisonment to his disappearance, which I doubt you have on your own, or that you do business with him and his organization personally, and set up together. Which one sounds more suitable to you father?"
Talcott remained quiet, though not from being outmatched in Linda's accusation, but from his growing lack of disgust that was emanating from this very discussion. For the first time ever since she came in, he turned around to face her completely, seeing her in full view. He then tries to bring the wine glass to his lips, only to find the glass forcefully brought down by Linda's hand, with just enough force to break the glass on the desk, spilling the liquid all over the surface. She then quickly grabbed one of the shards, aiming just right below throat. Talcott looked at his daughter with a dangerous alloy to his nape, though he was oddly calm
"What are you doing Linda?" He asked coldly, expecting the answer to be one that would cause him to react at a given moment. Though he knew that no matter what answer she gave, she wouldn't go through with the deed. He knew she wasn't built for the outfit of a killer, made evident by her trembling hands. He then asked a question of his own that he knew would get genuine answer"Why are you really here?"
She stayed quiet for a few seconds. Swallowing the spit in her mouth and taking a deep breath, she opened up and uttered "Where...is 's radio?"
The elevator buzzed open, giving a loud noise that reverberated through the whole parking lot. The two custodians, dressed in the blue overalls with obvious stains from top to bottom entered the elevator with garbage cans that had various cleaning equipment dangling from the handles. They were left in awe at how many buttons had been on the panel for the floors, and pressed the one that lead to the lobby. Their faces were cleverly hidden from big brown hats which the front had shadowed any detail that might point out their age, much less their appearance. The custodian on the right coughed loudly, as if trying to relay a signal. The one next to him jabbed him in the elbow.
"Will you stay quiet?" Harmon whispered in frustration.
"I can't help it!" Fisk whispered back in an equal manner. "Whatever this guy was cleaning, I'm probably allergic to!" He adjusted the slightly large clothes that him and his partner 'relieved' from the last people to sport them.
"Well then cover your mouth. I don't need to catch anymore germs than I do already!"
Fisk grinned in amusement at his partner, seeing how he was more irritated then usual. His eyes shot open upon discovery.
"Dude...are you germphobic?" He asked silently.
Harmon twitched in surprise, refusing to say anything, though the reaction pretty much confirmed it.
"Holy crap, that's hilarious! No wonder you never wanted to play football with the crew on Saturdays, you don't like getting dirty!"
"Is it a problem that I genuinely care about my hygiene to not want to get slathered in dirt every few seconds?"
Fisk shrugged, while at the same time attempting to hold in his laughter.
"Did you seriously not know what I meant when I said we were gonna get dirty?"
"I thought you meant some kind of rear attack that involved us subjugating the guards in some manner or another. In other words, figuratively, not literally!"
"Oh my god! You are terrified of getting dirty aren't you. The hairs on the back are standing up even. Wow, wait until I tell Lucy about this little tidbit."
Harmon raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Lucy? What does your sister have do with my shortcomings?"
Fisk stayed quiet giving the gesture that his lips were sealed with mischievous smirk. Though he was tempted to press on, Harmon shook his head and put his mind back onto the task once the elevator bell dinged as they reached their designated floor.
The lobby was more lavish then they thought, though guesses weren't exactly far off from looking at the building from the outside. Several guests had been coming in droves from the front entrance, all dressed in elegant and regal impressions. Fisk eye's scanned the lobby in wonder, never thinking that Harmon's words would come true in such a fashion. The chatter in the lobby from all of the guest's mouth aside from the loudness their outfits made was enough to set him off. He was almost thankful that he didn't put much thought into the method of entry, and simply left it up to his fascination with spy movies, which he felt the very idea of was going to earn him swift punch in the face from Harmon with how much risk it took.
"So...where do we go from here? What's the next part of the plan?" Harmon whispered directly into Fisk's ear, taking care for his voice not to be drowned out by the crowd.
"I'm...uhhh...working on it." Fisk admitted nervously. Not wanting to stand out, the two started to roam around the lobby in order to blend in, and play their parts correctly.
"HEY! YOU TWO!" The voice they heard nearly made them jump out of their fur with how much it surprised them. "Yeah! You two there! You got raspberry jam in your ears or sumfin?!" They slowly turned around, beguiled at the wide appearance of the black dog dressed in dirty blue overalls, along with a belt of handyman tools and several key rings. Harmon affirmed in his mind that he was most likely the head custodian of the establishment.
"I've been calling you for the past minute in a half, and you just stood there lollygagging like a bunch of dummies!"
"S-sorry sir!" Fisk said with a more deeper tone of voice in attempts to hide his age. "We were just distracted by all of the decorations! There all so...uh...pretty...awesome! Pretty awesome to look at!" Harmon blew a sigh of relief in his head, teetering on the edge that they might have been found out by Fisk's sudden turn of phrase. Though the feeling began to come back as he investigated the boys a little closer, examining their attire and even body structure.
"Hmmm...never seen you two around here before... And your uniform is barely dirty..." Fisk quickly scanned around the room, trying to find some sort of defense or at best a weapon in case they would need to get themselves out of what is looking to be a eventual situation. At the last second, Harmon coughed loudly, snapping Fisk back into attention.
"We just started here." Harmon spoke in a surprisingly brusk and rough sounding voice that put Fisk's earlier attempt to shame."We were transferred here from the McNealson company. They told us that the building was owned by a pretty important guy, so we decided to have our uniforms pressed and clean for the job. For appearances sake and all. Is that problem?"
"Depends on who you ask." The head janitor snorted through his nose in intimidation, trying to get under the boys skin."But since I'm the head custodian here, the questions are coming from me, so I hope you won't mind them. Will THAT be a problem?" He said redirecting the question back at the boys, who both shook their head in acknowledgement."Good. But...wait, you said from the McNealson company right?"
Fisk took a deep breath as he noticed the quick save that Harmon provided for him, which he felt shouldn't have been neccessary in an operation of his concoction. He was grateful in his mind, but did not ask for it. I would have rather we have gotten caught. He thought to himself. Deciding to let it slide out of his mind, he cleared his throat, moving to take back the reigns.
"Yes sir!" He said with a clear yet mature voice, much better than his last. "Come handpicked from the boss himself. We were told this event was gonna need as many hands on deck as possible, and that you were the person to take orders from to make the most out of it..." Pausing to take a breath, he quickly scanned for a name tag on the head custodian or any form of identification, finding out just past the left of his chest, covered slightly in dirt, and just barely being able to make the most out of it. "Mr. Leslie?" Saying his name with such an inquisitive tone would make anyone suspicious, thankfully it had the opposite effect as the head raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Wow, I'm surprised that old bastard McNealson actually bothers to make good on his promises sometimes!" Leslie chuckled." Not only did he send me some guys that can lend me a hand here compared to other slackers around here, he sent me his very best! I guess those poker nights count for something!" He nodded in approval of the boys, rubbing the back of his nape in fatigue. "Well, if that's the case, you couldn't have come at a better time. The event is about to start, and my 'former' assistant as of today is off goofing around somewhere. Probably somewhere in the storage closet with the boss's secretary. So I'm gonna need all the help I can get around here for cleaning up after these rich folks. Since you boys obviously come at recommendation, you won't have a problem with me sticking you with the heavy duty stuff will ya?"
"No sir!" The simultaneous response from both of them was more than enough to assure him that they could handle the job.
"Good answer! No then...uhh..." Leslie paused in suspense, as if waiting for certain words to fill the void. Fisk then realized what that was exactly, their names.
"Oh! They call me...Blackie! And this is my partner Jonesey!" Harmon frowned at the ad lib of their names, but shrugged in compliance, as he figured out it wasn't that far from the truth.
"Blackie, and Jonesey eh?" Leslie then shrugged. "Well, I ain't one to judge as if you couldn't tell by my name, but whatever. Anyway, since the party hasn't kicked into full swing yet, you guys don't have to worry about the ground floor too much, but we do need someone on the top floor near the boss's office to clean up after him. Lord knows he might get a little tipsy before his big moment, so we'll need someone to clean up after him."
"I'll head up there!" Harmon eagerly volunteer, earning a nod of approval from the head janitor.
"Well...all right then Jonesey, it's all you then. In the meantime Blackie, follow me to the presentation room where the party is gonna be held. There's some still some prepping to handle in there.
"You got it boss!"
Harmon then pushed the garbage can carrying his equipment past the droves of high class citizens towards the elevator, while Fisk headed in the opposite direction. With a slight indication, they both nodded at each other, affirming that both of them had been sticking to the plan, and that they were ready to put it into action.
Stepping into the elevator box, Harmon scanned the different buttons leading to the floors of the building, pressing the top most, assuming it to be where Talcott in question would be.
"So you're saying that the radio might be in his office somewhere?" Harmon pondered the previous discussion of what was to be done with Fisk, despite that statement being no more than pure speculation on Fisk's part.
"Yeah! I mean, the last people to take it from him was his son's in laws right? So wouldn't it be right to assume that the head honcho of the family has it stored neatly somewhere in his office?"
"That's why it's nothing more than an assumption."
"C'mon dude. You're telling me if you had something THAT valuable like an old WWII radio, you wouldn't keep that by your side at all times? Not only that, he's the CEO of his own company. I bet he hardly leaves his office, so it would be somewhere that he would be able to check on it at all times."
Harmon felt himself smirking at his partners almost sound logic, but not quite enough to be fully impressed by it. But perhaps he admired the simplicity of it. Sneak into the office, locate the radio, somehow avoid detection, while at the same time, Fisk will cause a ruckus downstairs, throwing off all suspicions towards him, and when he receives the radio, they would make their getaway. He considered him someone that was capable of formulating a plan, but never one to fill in holes where they are obviously required.
That's why I'm here, I suppose. He thought to himself as he shrugged indifferently.
The elevator floor bell went off as the momentum from being carried up the shaft ceased, bringing him to attention. Stepping out of the box, he was immediately caught in the eyesight of the nearby secretary, peeking vigilantly over her large desk. \
"Can I help you?" She said with a straightforward tone, almost putting Harmon in a deadlock, thinking he had been exposed already, though he kept his cool.
"Yeah, I...uh...was sent here by Leslie to clean the CEO's office."
The secretary raised an eyebrow for a brief moment, scanning Harmon's clothes and taking him for face value as another custodian, causing her to draw a sultry smile.
"I...see. I've never seen you around here before. Did you just start here today?" She quickly traded her previous abrasive like tone for one that was slightly suggestive in its delivery. A trad eoff that Harmon took very quick notice of, and decided to follow up on.
"Something like that. I'm only temping at the moment for the party tonight, so I won't be sticking around for long unfortunately."
"Ohhh. That's too bad, I really would have liked to see more of you if you decided to stay around." She smiled so largely that dimples began to show in her cheeks, and bending over the desk with her open blouse, hoping he would catch a peak of her clevage
"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Depends on how the night goes." Giving an almost eluding statement but at the same time being completely vague was usually Harmon's style when it came to chatting up females, a trait that has caught their attention many times. Though he wish it were another situation, he kept his mind focused on the task, and brought the topic back on track.
"Anyway, could you let the boss know that I'm coming in there to clean his office now?"
"I'm afraid he is meeting with his daughter at the moment."
"His daughter?" He raised his eyebrow inquisitively, wondering if the daughter mentioned was the same daughter that ended up marrying 's son, putting him immediately in a strange but reasonable thought. Could it be possible that the daughter had something to do with Harvey's death? From what the old man let on, it almost likely that the death was orchestrated by the Talcott family in order to squander him for his belongings, mainly the radio. He shook his head, not letting himself get too ahead of the situation.
"Yes, he hasn't seen her in sometime I heard. He sent her several invites to the event tonight, but she never once replied to any of them." She then beckoned Harmon, lending his ear to whisper."I heard that they've been on bad terms ever since she got married a few years back. Apparently she was supposed to marry some rich guy, but then ended up running off with some doctor guy. Because of that, her dad disowned her from the family, and she's been on her own ever since then."
"I see." He had a content face on the outside, but on the inside, his brain was going for a loop. From the story, he had the preconceived image that she was some kind of spoiled princess that ran away with some commoner simply just to spite her father for not letting her have her way. Then again, for all her knew, that could still be the case.
"But then again, you can't believe rumors. That's just what I heard around the water cooler." She eased out of Harmons personal space, but not before sneaking a whiff of his scent, basking in its aroma."But if you want, you can wait out here for their business to finish, before heading-
Suddenly the large doors leading into the CEO's office shot open, with the daughter of the president in question marching out as if she had a commanding presence that wanted everyone to take notice of, made more apparent by the loud tapping made by her heel shoes.
"Oh! Ms. Linda, have you finished your business with-?"
"I have finished it! And I'm finished with him as well!" She yelled out as she strode past the desk, going straight for the elevator. In the midst of her walking past him, Harmon noticed a small sparkling detail leave the confines of her purse and drop to the floor. Crouching down to investigate, he noticed it was a blue diamond necklace, calling him to remember the story of 's story yet again. His eyes shot open in realization, yielding his previous thoughts.
The elevator door opens, and Linda stepped hastily in the box and pressing the button to the ground floor. Just as the doors began to close, Harmon sprinted across the floor to hold the door open, in almost no seconds flat across a six feet distance from the desk to the elevator, putting his finger between the scanner preventing it from closing. Linda jumped up in surprise at his sudden speed, never in her life seeing anyone moving so fast in so little time.
"You forgot something." Harmon held out his arm, dropping the necklace into Linda's hand, which she extended out unconsciously. She looked down at it, affirming the contents of it, and its meaning to her.
"Ah. T-thank you." She said softly.
Nodding with confirmation, he stepped back off the elevator, allowing the doors to close in front of him. He stood there pondering, in attempts to put the pieces of the story together. Hearing another's footsteps behind him, he turned around to the very man in question of his and Fisk's case.
"Ah. President Talcott.!" The secretary jumped out of her chair in shock, standing at attention. Harmon wasn't surprised by her reaction. Just looking at him from a distance was enough to intimidate even him with how commanding and authoritative it was. A smile broke through that massive aura he felt.
"At ease Mira. There's no need to be so alarmed. Taking time to talk with my beloved daughter after so many years has put me in a rather positive mood." The words that came out soothed the secretary's ears, being almost unable to look at his supposed radiance. Only one person standing in the room saw through the facade however, and it was on that decades younger than himself, though has been around to see all manner of people.
"Oh yes! Of course! This man is here to-"
"No need to say another word. I'm fully aware that I sent for someone to clean my office not that long ago, and he is here right on schedule." He then directed his eyes towards the custodian in question."Now that you are here, perhaps you can get down to business, Mr..."
Harmon braced himself from the oncoming events that were coming his way, and pictured Fisk was about to engage in the same manner of business.
"Jones sir. But please...call me Jonesy."
Blue Diamond Blues PART 2 END
