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“You said your mercenaries could handle The Dwarf, Reynard,” Wade Manson leveled this statement in the form of an accusation. “Your boys got their asses kicked out there.”
Reynard studied Manson’s swollen face and tried to count all the visibly bulging blood vessels. He stopped when he got to nine. That Wade Manson was irritated was obvious. Less obvious was Reynard’s own growing aggravation with the volatility of his partner. The silver-haired man consoled himself with the hope he would not have to tolerate it forever. Seated in the conference room and sipping on coffee, the two men painted a mundane picture of businessmen engaged in a morning meeting. One would be hard-pressed to assume, at a mere glance, that anything heavier than quarterly projections or new product lines were being discussed.
“Perhaps you would like to relay your assessment to Mr. Paulsen yourself?” he responded with a raised eyebrow, unable to resist the urge to bait Manson just a little.
“I ain’t afraid of that merc, Reynard. So don’t try to scare me with him.”
Reynard smiled, but his thoughts were darker than his face implied. I know you’re not afraid, Wade. You are too stupid to be afraid. You would have to have an ounce of sense to understand how precarious your situation is, and that is about an ounce more sense than you have ever had.
But he kept it all inside and instead took a more diplomatic tone.
“Naturally, Wade. It’s not about scaring you, it’s about perspective. Plans have layers and contingencies. It was only bad luck that Tankowicz was present at the Hideaway when they went after McDowell. There will be another opportunity, and the plan will continue.”
“But The Dwarf knows we’re after him now, and he has probably figured out that it’s me behind it.”
You are not behind it Wade. Fox again kept his thoughts to himself. You are a pawn and a patsy, and if they hadn't figured out to blame you on their own we’d have arranged for it to happen, anyway.
As before, he placated the sputtering mobster, “If you want to be in charge when the dust settles, Wade, you have to be seen making the moves. There are a lot of territories devoid of leadership at the moment. I don't have to explain to you what it takes to bring the local gangs to heel. This is why we chose you to be our front man after all.”
“I get that, but it’d be nice if shit went smoothly once in a while,” Manson tried not to sound petulant, but failed. “What’s the plan for The Dwarf, then? He’s never been a Boss, but everybody knows his connections run deep as hell.”
“Yes, McDowell is very much a wild card in all of this. Unlike your ‘Combine,’ Rodney has been far more clever and far more circumspect in how he has gone about amassing his power.” It was a subtle jab at Manson’s former associates, but it sailed past the mobster unnoticed.
“Yeah, well, we always knew he was the meat of the Dockside rackets, but he never stepped up or stuck his neck out. Kept his shit small and tidy so nobody ever took him down.” Manson spoke as if this frustrated him. As if The Dwarf’s ability to work with subtlety and care in a volatile environment had robbed Wade of a chance to fight him. Reynard scowled at the stupidity of that attitude. But they had needed someone both ferocious enough to step out in front, and stupid enough to take the fall in a convincing manner. Wade had made that cut, and would serve his purpose. None of which made him easy or pleasant to deal with though.
“Our best spies still aren’t sure exactly where all the Dwarf’s assets lie, but we have a high degree of confidence that they are not unlimited. He can be broken, and he will be. We just need to move in a prudent and measured manner, Wade.”
“So, what? We hit him again? We gotta be real careful with running hits in Dockside, Reynard. Unless your ‘plans’ include tussling with Gateways or having the docks locked down so tight there’s no money to be made there, that is.”
Wade probably thought he was being clever, pointing out what everybody already knew, and Reynard let him have that.
“Yes, we took a chance on that once already, but I’m not sure another try is in order. Certainly not the same type, anyway.”
Wade, now emboldened, pushed even harder, “Not to mention Sid. That bitch has a ton of information on our financial instruments, and a ton of cash in escrow, too.”
A ton of your cash, you mean, Reynard thought, but thought better of speaking that aloud. Instead, he equivocated, “The damage Sid can do to the operation is merely financial, and not strategic. The plan will continue either way, even if the information she holds makes it cost a lot more than it needs to.”
“Easy for you to say,” Wade barked, “It’s my money she’s holding and my investments she can expose!”
Reynard realized that he must be tired because his inner monologue was trying very hard to escape his brain and get out through his mouth. It took all his mental discipline not to say what he was thinking: That’s how being a patsy works, you buffoon.
But Reynard held his tongue, and told the irritated mobster what he needed to hear, “Trust me, Wade. When this is over, your wealth will be infinite. In a few weeks, you’ll be laughing about these losses from your penthouse atop Belham Tower.”
“That’s what I keep hearing,” Wade mumbled back. He did not sound convinced, but he liked the sound of ‘infinite wealth,’ so he let it slide.
“We will handle both Sid and Rodney shortly, Wade. Don’t get bent out of shape over it. In the meantime, we need to address your part in the fall of The Combine. The Widow made it out of the party, but we always knew that was likely. Now you need to step into the limelight as it were.” Reynard gave Wade a small smile. “It’s time, Wade, for you to do what you do best.”
Manson smiled back. “Hell yeah, it is. It’s time for me to hit the streets and go to war!”
“Your people are ready?”
“Damn right. I’ll start with Malldown and pick up Richter’s boys easy enough. That should give me enough horsepower to go after Southie. Quinzy and the Uptown boroughs can sit tight while I sort that out. Limp-dick capos with fancy suits won’t have the stones to do shit but hunker down and fortify their own territories, anyway.”
“You’ll steer clear of Dockside, I presume?”
Wade sneered at his partner, “What the fuck do you think? Of course I will. I ain’t ready to fight Gateways and neither is the Brokerage. You got a plan for Dockside already, and I’m happy to leave you to it. But you better get that goddamn fixer and The Dwarf handled, or this is all going to be for nothing.”
Reynard nodded. There was nothing untrue in that statement despite the rude delivery. “By the time you have consolidated the other territories, Dockside will be ready to go our way without a shot fired, Wade. But you must make sure that the Widow goes down, and that it is you who makes that happen. Nobody will fall in line if it looks like The Brokerage or some off-world concern does it. It needs to be you.”
This, Reynard knew, was a lie. What he really needed was altogether different. He considered this in silence. I really need you to finish the job we started at the party. Namely, the complete destruction of the old system of crime syndicates. We need it to look like it collapsed all by itself though. It needs to look like an implosion, like a failure of that business model and not a hostile takeover. Once all vestiges of the old system are dead, then the new one can be brought on line.
Wade was going to fail miserably in his attempt to take over all of New Boston’s gangs. The Brokerage had ensured this by implying that he would be well funded and supported in his efforts. However, once Manson started his war, that support would disappear at a moment selected for maximum disruptive potential.
At least he will die doing what he loves, Reynard’s internal monologue droned over Wade's nonsensical ramblings.
“I get that,” Wade had not noticed Reynard’s attention drifting inward, “The gangs won’t respect me if it looks like The Brokerage was doing the heavy lifting. You don’t have to worry about that. I like leading from the front.”
“Another reason we selected you, Wade,” Reynard crooned. “You are just the kind of person we need for this to work.”
“So I am good to go with phase two, then?”
“Absolutely! It will help to draw out The Widow, and the chaos will give us more opportunities to get Sid and Rodney, too. It’s time, all right.”
“Good. Expect movement on Malldown sometime in the next twenty-four hours.” Wade started to say something as he stood, but stopped before the words escaped. He paused and leveled a measured glare at the silver-haired man seated across the table. Reynard was certain he heard suspicion in Wade’s voice. A trace of those old mobster’s instincts asserting themselves just enough to make the man wary.
“Just make sure your friends at The Brokerage do their part. I don’t want to get left hanging in the breeze out there.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Wade. The Brokerage is heavily invested in this operation, and none of our assets will go unsupported. Just do your part.”
“Count on it,” Manson spat. Then, without further ceremony, he left the conference room.
Reynard waited for the door to hiss closed behind the wide silhouette of the gangster before leaning back in his chair and exhaling a long, cleansing breath. He pulled his DataPad from its bag and swiped through menus with practiced sweeps of a pudgy finger. He found the application he needed and keyed his code. The word ‘encrypting’ blinked seven times in crimson block letters before the image of Paulie’s face lit up the device.
“Yeah?” the mercenary’s face had an irritated twist which his voice reinforced.
“What happened out there?” Gone was the placating business partner. In its place was a very annoyed manager.
“You already know, Reynard. The Fixer was there. We didn’t have the right gear for that because walking Torvald down The Drag is the type of stupid that draws all the wrong kinds of attention. I can’t afford to have his armature impounded right now. Not while Tank is still on the board.”
“Fine. I figured as much, but Manson is getting suspicious.”
Paulie sneered, “Why the fuck do I care if he gets suspicious?”
“You don’t. But I do.” Reynard rubbed his face in frustration, “I’m cutting him loose on the other districts, so be aware that the action is going to heat up.”
“Works for me,” Paulie shrugged, “It’ll pull Police attention away from us.”
“I want you to loan him some of your equipment,” Reynard suggested.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
The florid face bent into a sardonic smile, “Because the glorified street thugs he considers to be his 'soldiers' will get killed or caught, as often as not. If they have equipment connected to the Belham raid, well, who could blame NBPD for thinking that Wade Manson’s crew was the one who hit the Tower?”
Paulie nodded, “I got ya. Sure. We have some stuff he can ‘borrow.’ We’re team players like that.”
“One big happy family,” it was said with a smirk, but then he got back to business. “We will have to pull Rodney out of Dockside, and hopefully drag Tankowicz with him. We need enough room to manage Tankowicz without bringing down Gateways or the Police. What does Torvald need for space, and how can we keep a very loud battle quiet?”
“I was thinking about those tram lines,” Paulie replied. “If we had a building connected to the trams, like a building with a big cargo area? Then Torvald’s rig will have enough room, and the whole scrap will go down underground. If we pick a zone that ain’t near Uptown and also not near the docks, we can buy off the cops to leave us alone. We got anywhere like that around here?”
“Quinzy.” Reynard said it with finality. “The shipyards are all on the lines, and they have huge assembly warehouses. Police there are not quite so malleable as Dockside, but we should be able to get preferential treatment, all the same.”
The mercenary’s brow furrowed. “Shipyards would be perfect, but how do we get them all there?”
Reynard belabored the obvious, “We need bait.”
“Schedule a meet? Like a parlay or something?” Paulie had used that trick before. It was inelegant, but it worked as often as not.
“Tankowicz and the Ribiero woman will see through that. They know that this conflict is too undecided for any side to want to come to the table just yet.” Reynard shook his head, “No, it will need to be something irresistible.”
“Feed them Manson?” Paulie was not fond of the fat mobster.
Reynard considered that. It was not a terrible idea. “We need Manson to take the fall for the gang wars, though.”
Paulie shrugged, “He still can. Let him run his game for a week or so, and then find a reason to send him to Quinzy. We’ll set up a delivery of guns or some shit like that. We can leak the intel on that to Tank’s people through Sid’s people so he’ll trust it. Bingo. Puts everybody in the right place at once.”
Reynard finished the thought, “and you will be waiting for them when they arrive?”
“Right,” Paulie agreed. “I’ll take out Tank and Manson both. It will look like part of the gang war.”
“That will leave The Widow in play, but that can be handled any number of ways,” the silver-haired man mused out loud. “It’s not a terrible plan, Mr. Paulsen.”
“Almost like I’ve done this shit a time or two, eh?”
“The hard part will be convincing Manson to supervise the pick-up personally. But I suspect I know how to make that happen.” Reynard shook his head slowly. He knew exactly how to get Manson to show up.
“I bet you do,” Paulie chuckled. “Set ‘em up, Reynard. I’ll knock ‘em down.”