I Beleive Now (7 page)

There was a brisk knock on his door just before it opened. Max raised one eyebrow at the man who strolled in. "You're late."

"I'm sorry, Max-sama," the man said with a heavy Japanese accent, "Chicago traffic sucks."

The time to move forward had finally arrived.

* * * *

Max had returned to his office for a few moments of silence before he started the last ball rolling. The plan was set but Max knew he needed to keep it flexible as well. He had all of the possible outcomes in his mind, had walked through every one of them at least a dozen times. He knew them all. He had to. He was dealing with people who did not follow a single leader and as much as that was a plus, it was equally as much a disadvantage. With such unpredictable odds, Max had to know every possible conclusion with everything that could go wrong, so he could see every outcome.

There was only one he didn't like.

But even that one had to be thought out. If it happened—if Asher died—a whole lot of other people were going to as well. He lit a cigarette and inhaled, forcing himself to go slowly as he shut his eyes and went back over everything, every possibility, and how he'd counter every bad turn. By time his cigarette was finished, so was he. He'd do this again with his people as well. None of this strategic maneuvering was going to matter if he was the only one who could work with every change that might occur. Every contingency had to be remembered by his people too. But he knew he didn't have to worry about such things, because the kidnapping of Asher woke them all up. Clearly they had become too relaxed, and in this dark world, that only meant death.

But that death had better not be Asher's.

He rose up from his desk and headed out.

* * * *

Yes, Max was confident he'd done all he could to ensure Asher's safe homecoming. The plans were in place.

Step one—the Japanese contact.

Two phone calls and Atushi, aka Kyo, flew into Chicago. During the hours it took for the man to arrive, Max—along with his people—had strengthened and solidified the plan. He had made several more calls, had a couple of quick meetings, saw photos, and picked locations. Money had never been an issue and never would be, but even Max himself noticed the amounts flying around. At one point he sat back and smirked. He noticed only because he could just hear Asher as if he were here watching the plan come together.

"Holy crap, Max, do you know you just spent the equivalent to the income of a small country? Hell, a large country!"

He sighed.
I do this for you Asher. Not for anything, or anyone else; only for you…

Step two—set up the route.

There'd be no success if the route wasn't real. He needed to make sure everything was authentic. He dug deep to find the name of the man who'd been slated to take Hunter's sister. Max had certainly called in markers for that one, but the threats had to be made too. It wasn't what he'd do in normal circumstances because to churn up the waters like he was doing right now was never a good thing. Normally he'd secretly pay for such information, which is what he thought he had been doing with Jackson that first meeting. But he just didn't have time now to find another quiet source for that contact information. The threats would keep the dust down for the moment. When all of this came together, he'd have to deal with those problems if necessary, but right now, he needed to settle this.

Max chuckled at the fact it took only money and the illusion of gaining attainable power to convince the man he had been searching for, this yakuza, to open his arms and his books. Of course, Max's own influence was no small thing. His name was feared all over the planet. But he still grinned, knowing greed was one of the huge mistakes these inexperienced thugs always made, and it didn't seem to matter if they were young or old, American or Japanese. They were all the same. That fact alone could be used and exploited every time.

So now he had the original contact on board with everything that went with the man's crumbling empire basically handed to him on a bloody platter. Max was not surprised to find out the reason this yakuza was so desperate to get the route set up. If he didn't, or worse yet, if the route were not successful, he'd cease to exist, along with any loyal followers as well. And the man already had problems with deserters. Max knew now, if left alone, this little fire was going to burn itself out anyway. However, the possibility of more lives being lost if left to die on its own, certainly did not appeal to him. So having to kill it this way was still the favored plan.

None of it mattered. What the whole of this boiled down to was the importance of having the yakuza responsible in the first place, even if only for the sake of making this genuine. But that wasn't the only reason. He also wanted to make sure the path to this route no longer existed. In the end it'd still be the authorities who'd be gathering together all the followers of this idiot and putting them down. Max was only going to be the one who tipped them off and give them enough information and evidence to make sure whatever charges were thrown at the survivors would stick.

That part was still important to him.

But the yakuza himself? Even his yakuza friends weren't going to have the chance to get to him, because his death belonged to Max.

Not too many hours had gone by before the rumors started.

"Max Tyler is on the move."

"Something is wrong in Max Tyler's world."

"If you had anything going at all with Max Tyler, it's best to get out now!"

Of course the gossip was absolutely fine. In fact, they were exactly what Max wanted; the stories were all a part of the plan. He needed them to filter back to not only Jackson and Lucca to show he was "frantically" complying with their demands, but also to the Red Dragon gang. He wanted to make sure they were all very aware of his muscle and power in the world in which they lived and played. Again, all of this was simply to keep them busy because he was aware that those within the Red Dragons, who had even one brain cell, knew they needed to do their own research on just what those moves were that Max was making. Even a green gang like the Red Dragon needed to be aware of whom they did business with, and if he could make them realize they were sucking up to the wrong power? That'd be just fine. Not necessary, but very fine.

At some point Max had to decide whether or not to change his appearance to go through with one part of the plan. There were no publicized pictures of him. He had always made sure of that. He'd never just go halfway again. Even Jackson had not taken a real good look at him that night. Jackson was always so full of himself he simply couldn't see anyone else. Max knew Lucca had probably seen him—and was likely to remember what he looked like—so he did have to take that into consideration. But the possibility anyone from the Red Dragon gang could recognize him was indefinable and it was one of the problems.

Step three—open the route.

That was the reason the route had to be real. He needed to open it to sell it.

The price? Asher returned alive.

He had hired all the "merchandise". It was the only part of the plan that leaned toward being unstable. When you dealt with too many people on the outside who knew about even just small pieces of the plan, things could be leaked. But again, all contingencies were thought out. And in fact, Max had some things leaked on purpose. For instance, he'd had the merchandise gather together in one of his warehouses, and he'd let it leak to Lucca exactly where. He also ignored the spies Lucca sent in. He wanted to make them think they hadn't been discovered, and weren't being observed or monitored, so they'd go back with the exact report Max meant them to. The report would include that there were indeed beautiful boys and girls locked up in a room in one of Max's more obscure warehouses, and that a large truck Max intended for transport was ready and waiting as well. Max watched as they took infrared pictures through the window of the door to the room to show Lucca the kids did exist. They also took pictures of the outside of the truck, most likely for identification purposes. They'd then be able to tell if Max intended on betraying them by switching the truck. Very clever of them.

The trucks were yet another expense about which he imagined his Asher commenting on.

"Fucking awesome! They look exactly alike! Even the scratches and dents! How did you do that?"

Another thing he let leak was information on the "farm" where an ongoing ready crop of "merchandise" was going to be coming from. A route wasn't a route if there was nobody using the road. To make this one work was a little trickier and another place where Hunter, along with Jasper, showed their amazing talents.

Today's technology pretty much dictated the flow of nearly all information. You really didn't exist if you were not traceable on some thread out there in cyberspace, no matter how obscure. Max relied on the intelligence of his team to keep his existence intact but only with the information he was willing to share. No self-respecting business man, principled or not, could actually believe any of it. But of course the government, on this continent or on any other, thought itself competent enough in their respective IT departments to think all of the firewalls and the encryptions one had to muscle through in order to actually get to that information made it as real as rain. Max chuckled at their efforts and their smug attitudes when it became clear they thought they had strong surveillance tactics in place due to their ability to hack. But it worked for him because they left him alone.

However, if it was difficult to keep information about a real person from falling into the wrong hands, it made it nearly a cake walk to let information about a nonexistent person fall into the right hands. Those hands, of course, being Lucca's. Oh yes, very clever, very sneaky Lucca thought he had the inside track.

It had taken no small effort on Max's team's part to create the persona of one Mr Greg Passon, a very busy man whose ties to the hush-hush organization simply known underground as "The Farm" were tenuous and fragile. "The Farm" was a top secret facility and had only been rumored to exist. The story was, they took in the homeless, destitute, and especially orphaned children, none of whom were ever seen or heard from again. They were "farmed" out to sweat shops, whore houses, and the ever-ravenous adult film industry. Even with the ghost of a shadow of a trail that led from Greg Passon to "The Farm's" doorstep, it'd still take a leap of faith to make the connection that made the lie all that much more believable. Max knew if he made the process too easy, even someone as stupid as Lucca could figure it out. So he made it nearly impossible to be able to ferret out the link. But an intelligent operative would be able to discern and work through the maze.

Plus, if one looked closely—and Max was sure Lucca was going to—there was the slightest hint Mr Greg Passon was indeed Mr Greg Peterson, the CEO of one of the largest charitable organizations that funded the orphanages and foster care homes in and around the Chicago area. The name Passon came up in any number of searches, from New York care facilities to Los Angeles encouragement centers to Miami women's shelters. Each location looked legit on the outside, and actually they were, except they had become money laundering and occasional clearing houses for illegals. But Hunter and Jasper laid out a phantom trail that hinted each location also specialized in its own brand of slave trade. If indeed such a man as Greg Passon existed, there'd always be "product" for the human trafficking route Max was dangling in front of Lucca.

And all Max had to leak was Greg Passon's name then sit back and watch Lucca's people trip all over themselves trying to learn all they could about the fictitious, depraved man. It was the final piece of the puzzle Max put in place to assure Lucca and Jackson would take the bait—hook, line and sinker.

All the video equipment, monitors, and microphones were in place. The fake wall had been positioned to hide one of the trucks—the truck containing the dummies infused with special prizes on board—all prior to Lucca's spies arriving. Hunter was an amazingly talented man. Max knew he had been the correct choice for the job.

Step four—the Chicago contact

It was time to have Lucca, Jackson, and the Red Dragon gang woven into the plan.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Hey, Lucca. There's a guy on the phone for you. Said he's the Japanese guy. Are you ready to talk to him?"

Shit.
That was fast. There had never been a doubt in his mind Max Tyler had pull beyond the norm but the speed with which the man could make things happen was nothing short of miraculous.
Fuck!
He wasn't ready. How could he be? He didn't even expect to hear from the contact himself. What if the phone call was a trap? Tyler was, after all, the man who set this up. Why hadn't Tyler told him the contact was going to happen this soon? Why had he not even heard from Max about the contact actually calling him directly? Something wasn't right. What if this was a way to expose him, have him arrested, have him
killed
?

But that didn't make any sense. He had Asher Madden. Tyler wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize the man's life, was he?

Lucca rubbed his aching temples, moving his hair back. He'd have to cut this bulky pelt again soon. The thickness of it tended to irritate the hell out of him when it was allowed to grow to this length. He just hadn't had time lately. He adjusted his six foot, one hundred and eighty pound frame in the uncomfortable chair to see if he could head off the coming migraine. He'd need all his faculties sharp and ready when he talked to the contact. If he did this right… If this route opened up, he'd be set for life.

They were going to have to kill Max Tyler, and they now had all of those details worked out, but Tyler was going to know that too.

Yes, Tyler had to know this so-called reason they had come up with in order to delay the release of Madden was a paper dragon, a grand illusion, simply there to force Tyler to deal with them. He'd know they could never release his lover because, once they did, Tyler would simply kill them all. Even if it meant the Japanese yakuza could come after him. Tyler could probably work something out where that was concerned, too. Again, his control was so far-reaching he could set up a meeting, even if only by phone, with a Japanese crime lord, a fucking yakuza, who had direct ties to human trafficking, within hours of being told to do so. Being capable of that… It'd be small stuff to sniff out those who were certain to defy him, and then dispatch them as if they were mere bugs; something the man had been doing for years.