Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"How can one single-story building be the legal address for 285,000 separate businesses?"
Ames seriously wondered if something was wrong with her hearing.
"Basically because they don't actually conduct business from there. They just keep a drop box in that building. That's all Delaware law requires for them to benefit from the state's tax legislation", Pete said.
They, minus Chance and Winston, were on board of the jet now, heading straight to Delaware. Ever since the debacle with Philippa the jet had internet access so they were able to keep constant contact with Guerrero. He, back in San Francisco, had hacked himself into the IOFGTE's main server and was currently taking a closer look at the threats the group had received lately.
Almost in passing he sent a picture of 1209 North Orange Street to the jet's big monitor, so they could all see what Pete was talking about: A yellowish office building, flat roof, view of a parking garage. Neither exceptionally ugly nor a masterpiece of urban functional architecture. Just your random business location, like a million others scattered over cities worldwide.
The list of companies who claimed to have their Delaware base there, however, was impressive. Almost not a single multinational player that was not present: The cult-status computer company with the fruit in the logo, the famous manufacturer of caffeinated refreshment beverages, a certain internet search machine… Right alongside rather shady businessmen from Eastern Europe and Asia.
You know, if you only have to give a name to found a business and by law nobody is required to question terribly deeply where the money that you're funding your business with is actually coming from… it opens the doors for things like money laundering pretty wide.
Delaware authorities were working on the problem.
Meanwhile they're collecting about 900 million of tax dollars a year from their absentee corporate residents; a third of the state's budget. Money that, of course, is not paid in the states/countries where the businesses actually, well, do business. Money that could help paying stuff as fire brigades, hospitals, schools etc. there… Professor Alexiou's tax system would have done away with such loopholes.
Based on Guerrero's first findings, Chance and the others had come to the conclusion that the person who ordered the hit on Nikos Alexiou probably wasn't coming from the shady corner of money laundering foreign businessmen that one should think…
Right now Chance and Winston, still in Great Britain, were in the process of verifying that assumption.
"Somehow I don't think he's buying our "We just want to talk"-approach", Winston told Chance in the brief pause between two volleys of machine gun fire.
"Or maybe he just doesn't like talking", Chance muttered, squinting at the ceiling of the dilapidated factory building where they had encountered the man they believed had killed Professor Alexiou. "I can relate to that."
"So what are we going to do now?" A ricochet bullet barely missed Winston's shoulder.
"You provide covering fire, I convince him that talking isn't that bad after all", Chance said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
"What? Are you INSANE? You don't really think you can…"
"Trust me", Chance winked at him and off he hopped, over their makeshift barricade, right into the assassin's line of fire. Winston had no choice but to fire as fast and as widespread as possible to keep their adversary occupied.
Chance, like a hare, zigzagged from one pillar of the machine hall to the other, ducking and diving, while Winston silently prayed that none of his bullets accidentally hit his friend.
Chance's maneuver sort of made sense insofar as the space between them and the assassin offered plenty of opportunities to hide behind – it was possible to cross the distance to their enemy by jumping from one pillar/machine fragment/pile of garbage to the next, but only if Chance completed concentrated on his avoidance maneuvers. Winston had to do all the shooting.
It was risky. With stray shots there was no telling where they went. And aside from that, what would happen once Chance had crossed the distance and reached the assassin?
Chance was counting on the fact that the other man was preoccupied with replying to Winston's onslaught and wouldn't notice how fast Chance approached. To ensure this envisaged moment of surprise, however, he would have to run the last few feet straight towards the threat, from a 70° angle… if Winston, at the same time, shot at him from a 20/30° angle, he'd have about seven seconds to…
The assassin saw him coming.
Only at the last second, but it was long enough for him to turn around, aim at Chance…
A scream pierced through the hall, even louder than the gunfire.
Winston immediately stopped shooting.
Listened to the silence that was more deafening than the whole storm of steel the minutes before.
"Winston?"
Winston released a deep breath of relief, scrambled to his feet and hurried over to the position of Chance and the assassin.
"So…", Chance said, clenching his teeth, "…why don't you tell us a thing or two about how you got a certain job not too long ago at the airport?"
The man that had put up such a fierce resistance was lying on the floor, tied up with cable fixers, blood stains all over his white shirt.
"Chance…", Winston said, "…you're bleeding…."
"Yeah, your bullet hit me right on time… impact in the shoulder felled me before our buddy here could shoot me in the chest." Chance sat down on a rusted machine part. "And now to you…", he addressed his captive.
"I'll do the questioning, you patch yourself up", Winston decided.
… … …
Ilsa's mobile signaled, announcing the telephone call she and Ames had been waiting for.
"Humphrey Treeman, officer at the Division of External Revenue and Foreign Relations… Play it exactly as we told you. Take no risks. He isn't likely to be armed, especially not if you visit him at his office, during the official opening hours… but be prepared. And don't mess up the technical side! Without the technical…"
"We got it, okay?", Ames, who had been listening in to the conversation, chimed in.
Ilsa gave her a very grateful look.
Ames nodded at her and smiled. They'd pull this off.