A new one for this.
And now I'll go back to finding a new graphics card. My old one is on the fritz -.-
Regardless, enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters that appeared in the show.
"Are you sure we'll be safe here?" Patrick asked Mark as they walked towards the lake house.
"Positive." Mark nodded. "This house belonged to my uncle before he passed away and just with my parents' cabin, I never told anyone about it."
"Need I remind you that they did find us at the cabin?" Patrick shot Mark a side glance.
"Boss, they found us because you told Sie that she should bring the old man to the city the cabin was located in." Mark pointed out. "And whoever send the drone most likely followed our car back to my cabin."
"I hope you have reception here, I need to get orders to the others." Patrick grumbled.
"Mark, didn't you say this was abandoned?" Connor asked.
"Yes, why?" Mark looked at him.
"Then who's home?" Connor pointed to the cabin, where a light was visibly on.
"Shit!" Mark cursed and pulled out his gun. "Wait here."
While Patrick hunkered down, also with a gun in his hand, Connor in front of him, Mark crept towards the small house. He tried looking into the lit window, seeing nobody and, still crouched, moved around to the door. One look back showed him Connor coming closer to the house and moved around the door to be able to open it.
He opened the door as slowly and quietly as possible and when it was a small gap, he turned his head to look inside. Before he could go further, the door swung open violently and Mark felt a hard impact against his upper chest, the knee of his assailant slamming into his sternum. He fell back with a cough, the air rushing out of his lungs and his head smacking against one of the wooden beams of the terrace balustrade.
"Mark?" the man who had knocked him down spoke up.
"What the..." Mark began but Connor stepped in.
"One move and you're dead." Connor threatened, holding the gun close to the older man's head.
"Connor, don't..." Mark tried but the old man simply grabbed the gun out of Connor's hand before smacking the grip against the younger man's forehead, making him drop.
"Mark!" the older man yelled and held out his hand. "What are you doing here?"
"Uncle Miles?" Mark looked up, grabbing the hand and getting pulled up. "I thought you were dead."
"Miles." Patrick said as he walked towards the group, Connor slowly getting up while holding his head.
"Why aren't you dead yet?" Miles looked at Patrick with a disgusted expression.
"I need a place to lay low for a while." Patrick shrugged.
"What's so funny?" Connor asked when Miles began laughing.
"This is probably the biggest 'I told you so'." Miles chuckled. "I told you that you were an idiot."
"I don't quite like your tone." Patrick squinted at him.
"And I don't like your face." Miles shrugged. "And since you keep the face..."
"You know I could kill you right now." Patrick threatened.
"Then you will want to even more in a second." Miles laughed, took two quick steps and gave Patrick a hard, openhanded slap, causing the other man to fall down.
"Uncle Miles, what the hell?" Mark almost shrieked as Patrick got back up.
"Give me one good reason why you did that and I might let you live." Patrick threatened the other man.
"That was for my son!" Miles hissed and played with Connor's gun that he was still holding.
"Fair enough." Patrick accepted.
"Wait, what was that about John?" Mark asked, never having learned about the true fate of his cousin.
"Didn't he tell you?" Miles looked at his nephew. "In ten years time, Patrick, me and a few others built an organization that sold heroin in half the country. We kept expanding. Then this idiot decided that he wanted to include cocaine and what was back then a new drug called meth in our business. We all told him that it was a bad idea. He just shot the loudest dissenter."
"Nothing new there." Connor muttered, earning himself a sharp glare from his uncle.
"So, me, John and a few others went to El Paso on his orders to build our branch to sell cocaine and meth as well as heroine." Miles continued. "And just like I told him, the Mexican cartels and Colombian rebel groups didn't take kindly to us trying to muscle into their business. Which led to gang wars and the death of my boy."
"I thought you died there too." Mark said.
"I almost did." Miles sighed. "I was found at one of the shootings, they mistook me for one of the civilians that had got caught in the crossfire because I was comatose and without ID and they took me to the hospital. When I woke up, I pretended to have amnesia and when I had gathered enough strength, I slipped out and came here. I wanted nothing to do with this anymore."
"So, you spent the last twenty-five years here in isolation?" Mark wondered.
"No, I got restless a few years later and went Los Angeles." Miles shook his head. "Bill, an old friend of mine ran an old fashioned outfit that made its money with gambling. He made me his main enforcer and life was great. No fights about drug territories or even prostitution. Just making rich people lose their money while having fun."
"I see where this is going." Patrick chuckled.
"Yeah, one day a young man came in and joined." Miles glared at Patrick again. "Was so quiet that he was overlooked more often than not. Until he turned most of the outfit against the old guard over the money that narcotics was making."
"Wait, was that...?" Mark looked at his boss.
"A young man named Owain Brostin." Miles nodded. "One day, the boss was killed, his second-in-command's house blew up and when I was on my way home, the breaks on my car failed and I crashed into and under the trailer of a truck in front of me. The only thing that saved me was the fact that my seat was so worn out that I only had to push back and it would go horizontal. Managed to squeeze myself out of the car before it burst into flames and I came back here."
"I still don't see where the 'I told you so' is." Connor was confused.
"Oh, that was for the thing he ordered me to do before he sent me to El Paso." Miles told him. "He sent me to Japan of all places to kill some random woman by injecting her with an overdose amount of heroin."
"That was for..." Mark began but Miles just waved him off.
"I know why, he told me who she was and why she had to die.." Miles said. "I may be living in seclusion here but I'm not cut off from the world. And I still have some contacts."
"You know about Kenta?" Connor asked.
"Yes, and I know that he is bulling his way through the china shop that was your syndicate." Miles laughed at Patrick, who bristled at the derision. "I told you that this was a bad idea but did you listen? Of course not."
"Can we..." Connor began.
"That was always the problem with him." Miles pointed at Patrick. "He was great when it came to building an organization but when he wanted to achieve something new, he got tunnel-visioned and ignored everything else, including the warnings of those he should listen to."
"I get it." Patrick shouted. "Can we go inside now or do you want to berate me some more."
"I should kill you." Miles shook his head and walked towards Patrick, who tensed up.
"Uncle..." Mark started but Miles surprised him by throwing Connor's gun at him.
"But knowing how it feels..." Miles said and gave Patrick a hug, clearly surprising the other man. "I truly am sorry about the loss of your son."
"Thank you." Patrick was taken aback by the sudden change in Miles' demeanor.
"Come on in." Miles stepped back and waved at them.
The group walked into the house, the insides surprisingly spacious. An antechamber for shoes led into the living room, from where a short hallway led to four more rooms, two being bedrooms, one the bathroom and the fourth a small kitchen. Patrick and Connor sat down on the living room couch, leaving Mark and Miles to the armchairs.
A large TV dominated the wall opposite of the couch and knowing his uncle from years before, Mark was sure that it was mostly sports that ever ran on it. Even so, the furniture looked old, which wasn't surprising given that he had been in hiding for over a decade. Miles went into the kitchen and returned with four bottles of beer and given that Mark had never seen his boss drink a drop of alcohol, he was surprised when Patrick took a swig.
"Are you still hung up about your money?" Miles asked.
"Why?" Patrick looked at him suspiciously.
"Oh, I saw an interesting news report the other day." Miles smiled and turned on the TV, where the then scrolled through some video client to find the news report he was talking about.
'Law enforcement spokeswoman Laura Miller told reporters that the source of the explosion of the supposedly empty building was explosives placed under the floorboards. The bodies of the victims have yet to be identified. Furthermore, in an apparently separate case, the local FBI field office raided a cabin south of town, finding a money cache of over seventy-five million dollars. Sources close to the investigation said that the source of the money might be drug related...'
"FUCK!" Patrick shouted and slammed the beer bottle on the table, only its massive built preventing it from collapsing.
"Wait, seventy-five million?" Mark wondered. "There were twenty million more than that inside that cache."
"Maybe whoever controlled that drone took two of the bales." Connor suggested.
"What made you hide money in that cabin anyway?" Miles asked.
"You know about the cabin?" Mark looked at his uncle.
"Mark, who do you think built this thing?" Miles chuckled. "Me and your dad."
"Point taken." Mark accepted.
"So, what do we do now?" Connor asked just as his phone rang, making everybody tense up. "Relax, this phone is secure."
"Who is it?" Mark wanted to know.
"Hello?" Connor accepted the call and listened. "It's Nancy."
"Put her on speaker." Patrick ordered and Connor did so. "Nancy, it's Patrick."
"Yes, boss?" Nancy's voice came from the speaker.
"Where are you right now?" Patrick asked.
"Lying low at the Hotel Mandarin Oriental in New York City." Nancy told him and Patrick needed a few seconds to process that.
"Hotel Mandarin?" Patrick was nonplussed. "That's your idea of laying low?"
"I'm using my own money and an alias." Nancy told him. "And frankly, if Kenta is looking for me, I'm sure he could find me wherever I'm hiding, so I'd rather hide at a place full of security cameras and with lots of people around. I hacked into the hotel's security feed and I have image recognition software that would alert me should Kenta enter the hotel."
"That's... actually quite smart." Patrick had to admit.
"What if he climbs to your floor on the outside?" Connor wondered.
"Loverboy, I'm on the fifty-second floor of the building and the outside is quite smooth. I doubt he could climb it without being seen." Nancy scoffed.
"Nancy, I have to orders for you." Patrick said, preempting any response from Connor. "First, I need you to relocate our cash to new locations and second, you're to go to Miami to build our operation there. You're in charge and I'll send Connor to help you."
"Boss, I'm not Blackbeard, I don't know where all your money is hidden." Nancy objected.
"Oh come on, I've shaved since then." Mark groaned at the old nickname that he got when he was in charge of mapping all the hidden money while sporting a long black beard.
"Furthermore, does Kenta even know about all the locations?" Nancy continued.
"Fine, I'll deal with the money another way." Patrick accepted. "Stay where you are for three more days, then head to Miami. Keep using a fake ID, but tell Connor where to meet you or you pick him up. Have you changed your looks?"
"I colored my hair blond and wear it longer, but other than that, no." Nancy told him.
"Okay, so Connor will be able to recognize you." Patrick said.
"When will he arrive?" Nancy asked.
"He'll leave tomorrow but he'll have another task before he heads to Miami, so he'll arrive maybe a day or two after you." Patrick told her.
"Boss, what makes you think Kenta won't find us in Miami?" Nancy wanted to know.
"We didn't have a Miami branch when he was still with us." Patrick said. "I'm giving you carte blanch to do whatever is necessary to build our operation there. Use your own discretion, your own speed. All I care about is that it gets up and running."
"What about other dealers?" Connor threw in.
"The cartels primarily deal in cocaine or meth." Patrick shrugged. "Our product shouldn't interfere in their business. Though if you can clandestinely put law enforcement on their tails, I wouldn't mind."
"Got it, boss." Nancy confirmed. "Anything else?"
"Yes." Patrick said. "Try finding another way to move product. Using warehouses seems to draw in Kenta like light does to insects."
"I'll figure something out." Nancy said and ended the call.
"Loverboy?" Miles smirked at Connor.
"The boss sent him and Nancy on an assignment where they had to wait over two weeks for the result." Mark explained. "Apparently, he and Nancy had fun while they waited."
"Wait, Nancy?" Miles spoke up. "Is she the same Nancy that started as a dealer back in Philly and worked her way up to overseeing the entire city?"
"She is." Patrick nodded. "She got all the way to regional manager of the mid-south when everything hit the fan."
"I always knew she had it in her." Miles smiled like a proud parent.
"You know Nancy?" Connor asked.
"Who do you think hired her?" Miles looked at him. "I always saw the drive in her. The will to succeed. It's just a shame that her career took this path. She could have been somebody."
"If you say so." Connor shrugged.
"You don't like that her career is in the drug business?" Mark asked his uncle.
"I've seen what this business does." Miles sighed. "I lost my only son. Patrick lost his. And don't forget that the stuff you're selling kills your customers at some point. It would be different if we sold weed but our product is and always has been the destroyer of worlds."
"So poetic." Patrick rolled his eyes. "If we didn't sell it, somebody else would. We're not responsible for what people want to put into their bodies."
"Except that addicts don't want to put this stuff into their bodies, they do because they have to." Miles countered.
"Are you guys going to have these philosophical discussions every day now?" Connor groaned.
"I'll need to lay low here for a while. Mark will stay as my liaison." Patrick said to Connor. "You'll head to Miami."
"You told Nancy three days, should I stay here for that long or do you have something else for me?" Connor wanted to know.
"You'll head to Toronto tomorrow and help Olivier move his operation." Patrick told him. "I'll send him an email order to await you."
"Yes, uncle." Connor nodded.
"And don't forget, when you're in Miami, Nancy is in charge." Patrick pointed his finger at him.
"Why though?" Connor asked exasperated. "Don't you trust me to run a territory for you?"
"No." Patrick shook his head, shocking Connor with his bluntness. "Not yet at least."
"Great." Connor huffed.
"Connor, since Owain's death, you've become the heir apparent to this organization." Patrick told him. "But your life has been one of parties and living in my shadow. You need to learn how to run the organization and the best way to learn it is by starting at the bottom. I won't make you sell drugs on the street but I'm making you subordinate to Nancy because she can teach you more than just how to fuck older women."
"Outstanding." Miles laughed at Connor's blush.
"Anyway, learn from Nancy how to build a local organization. Once you did that, I will send you somewhere else where you can apply your knowledge in building your own outfit." Patrick told him. "And once you managed to build a successful operation, I will be fine with you running this one once I'm no longer in the picture."
"I understand." Connor nodded.
"Good." Patrick said. "Now go to bed."
"Yes, papa." Connor mocked.
"Shut up!" Patrick actually laughed.
"Done?" Leonard asked when Penny sat down in the copilot's chair.
"Yep, separated it into the eight briefcases and put four of them into the overhead compartments." Penny nodded. "Why did you want the money in the briefcases?"
"Because I'm not keeping it." he told her. "Now strap in, we're about to land."
"Where are we?"
"Princeton, New Jersey." he told her before holding up a finger to keep her quiet, so he could do the landing procedure with the airport below them.
They landed without a hitch and she and Leonard took two briefcases each. Their dogs ran down the steps before them, shaking themselves out and running around in circles. Leonard whistled and the dogs went to his side, all of them walking towards the administration office. While Penny waited outside with the canines, Leonard dealt with the fees and everything else.
He exited the building and together, they walked out of the airport and towards an area that held several cabs. Leonard talked to one of the drivers and after a nod from him, Penny got into the backseat with the dogs and the four briefcases while Leonard got into the passenger seat. Leonard gave the driver an address and the driver did his thing, moving his vehicle through the comparatively light traffic. Less than half an hour later, the cab stopped at what Penny saw was a hospital. As they got out, Leonard paid the driver and a minute later, they stood in front of the building, briefcases in hand.
"What are we doing here?" she asked, noticing how Leonard had slightly tensed up as he looked at the building.
"This is the Princeton Plainsborough teaching hospital." he said quietly. "After I got shot at our family gathering that took my family away, this is where they saved my life."
"Oh honey." she whispered and placed the cases on the ground so she could simply hug him.
A minute later, he walked into the building, making Penny wonder why he wasn't tying the dogs up outside. Ten seconds later she got her answer when several nurses began squealing and rushing towards them, the two dogs reacting with joy instead of a defensive posture, like Tyson had done with Bridget.
"Hello, you two cuties!" a rather plump nurse squealed, kneeling down to ruffle the dogs' fur.
"Good afternoon, Mister Hofstadter." another nurse with the name tag Jackie greeted him before feeding the dogs with treats.
"Hey, Jackie." Leonard smiled at the woman. "Is Doctor Edelstein in?"
"Doctor Edelstein retired last year." Jackie replied. "Doctor Chase took her place."
"Is he in?" Leonard asked.
"Sure, go right ahead." Jackie nodded. "Can you leave them here?"
"Be good." Leonard ordered his dogs and threw each a treat he had produced from one of his pockets.
Penny followed Leonard through the hallways of the hospital until they reached an area that was clearly not for patients. A room in the back, separated from the outside by nontransparent glass dominated the area, a sign denoting it being the office of the hospital administrator. Leonard knocked and on a call from inside, opened the door, both finding a surprisingly young man sitting behind the desk.
"Can I help you?" the man asked.
"I think we might be able to help you." Leonard chuckled. "I'm Leonard Hofstadter."
"Penny." Penny nodded at him, giving her real name since Leonard gave the man his as well.
"I'm Robert Chase." the man greeted back. "I'd ask you to not take too much of my time, I have a surgery coming up."
"This won't take long." Leonard said and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk, Penny taking another. "Almost twenty years ago, my life was saved in this hospital. Since then, I've been supporting you with donations regularly."
"Thank you for that." Chase said, not quite knowing where this was going.
"That being said." Leonard smiled and put one of the briefcases on the table, opening it up and showing the man the contents. "This is for you."
"I... How much is that?" Robert could barely talk.
"Two and half million dollars per case, four cases." Leonard chuckled. "Do the math."
"Ten million dollars?" Robert gasped. "Are you serious?"
"As serious as a heart attack, if you excuse my medical analogy." Leonard said.
"For this, we could name an entire wing after you." Robert could not stop himself from giving a barking laugh of disbelief.
"Actually, this is going to be an anonymous donation." Leonard told him.
"Why?" Robert was surprised. "Wouldn't you want to be acknowledged for this kind of generosity?"
"This time, no." Leonard shook his head.
"Wait." Robert put his hands up. "If this is illegally obtained, then I can't and won't take it."
"Did Doctor Edelstein tell you about me?" Leonard asked.
"I think she might have mentioned your name." Robert said after a few seconds of thinking. "Give me a second."
The man dug inside his drawers until he produced a nondescript envelope. He read through the contents, looked at Leonard and finally nodded.
"So, she wrote that you work in some form of unofficial law enforcement?" Robert hesitated.
"In a way." Leonard nodded. "All you need to know is that while this money was originally ill-gotten, no official law enforcement agency knows about its existence or is looking for it."
"Are you sure about that?" Robert was doubtful.
"Yes." Leonard nodded and pointed to the paper from the envelope Robert was still holding. "This isn't the first time I gave your hospital money. On there is the procedure that I and your predecessor created to make these kinds of donations official."
"What is that?" Robert wanted to know.
"If you need to, you can bring the money there and they essentially whitewash it for you into donated money." Leonard shrugged. "If you have other ways or if you're able to use this money in cash, then feel free to disregard this. It's nothing illegal, just in case you're wondering."
"Then all I can do is thank you." the doctor said and stood up, offering Leonard and Penny his hand, both shaking it. "But I really have to go to the OR now to get ready."
"Good luck." Penny said as they left.
The dogs greeted their owners excitedly and Leonard bid his goodbye to the nurses he knew. They left the building and got back into the cab that had been waiting for them, the driver taking them back to the airport. After their arrival, Leonard paid for the fare and before heading back to the plane, they let the dogs run and do some business. Just under an hour later, they were back in the air.
"That was nice of you." she said when they were on their way back to Vermont. "How often have you given them money?"
"A few times." he shrugged. "I also donate to them officially under my name but some of my jobs allow me to get my hands on a good amount of cash, so I often just bring that money directly to the hospital."
"What about the other four briefcases?" she wondered.
"There are more entities that I give money to." he told her. "Two of those will go to a children's hospital in Los Angeles when I or we get there again. And the other two to two nonprofits each."
"That's nice." she smiled. "Just how much money can you get from your jobs?"
"Again, depending on the target." he shrugged. "Most don't give anything but when you have what we did last night, you can end up with more cash than you can carry."
"You mean like drug cartels or similar." she said.
"Precisely." he nodded. "Those are the most prevalent one since the drug trade is a cash business. Not to mention, who would tell on you."
"Hey, change of topic." she said. "Have you ever thought of building a runway for your plane on your property?"
"Why?"
"Well, it would save you the time of driving to your hangar, you wouldn't have to park the car there for weeks on end and you'd save on the rent money for it." she suggested.
"That's true." he agreed. "Though the rent money is minuscule compared to the cost of my own runway plus a hangar on my land."
"It's just a suggestion." she said.
"It's a good one." he told her. "I might actually do this because you're right, it could save me a lot of time not having to drive to the airport all the time. The downside is that building my own runway is not just having someone build me an asphalt road."
"No?" she looked at him.
"No, a runway needs to be maintained and more importantly, kept free of ice and snow." he said. "On a regular airport, the people owning or running it are responsible for that and they use deicing machines and plows." he shrugged. "I would have to have my runway built with deicing methods built into it."
"Is that possible?"
"Sure, it's a matter of using pipes and hot water." he nodded. "I'll check some offers later and ask the town if I can even do it."
"We should visit your dad before we head home." she suggested.
"I planned on doing that anyway." he agreed. "The question is, will he ever feel safe in his home again. If one mercenary group attacked him, another might again."
"It sucks that we couldn't get our hands on this Patrick." she sighed.
"It does." he concurred and they leaned back to enjoy the remaining flight home.
Stopping the chapter here. You may have noticed my borrowing of some things from another TV show
Review please :)