Parker 05 - The Darkness (18 page)

a million dollars minimum. And this real estate market

isn't going up anytime soon."

Morgan felt the eyes of the room locked on to him, but

The Darkness

145

when he met their gaze he saw there was no condescension, no patronage, no disdain. Instead there was pity. And

Morgan smiled when he saw his fellow brothers, knowing

they were right there with him.

"In the past twenty-four months," Leonard said, standing straight up and walking back to the front of the room,

"I have made two point three million dollars. Twice as

much as I ever made on Wall Street. And that's in the

worst economy in decades."

Morgan could tell his eyes were just one of a dozen

pairs that went wide when hearing that sum.

Leonard continued. "And that's after taxes."

A few hushed whispers now rose through the room, including one person who said, quite audibly, "Bullshit."

Leonard locked eyes with the speaker, a bald, black guy in

his early thirties. "Two point three after taxes, that's, what,

four million before Uncle Sam takes his cut?You're telling

us you went from being broke-ass on the street to making

seven figures after taxes in two years? In this economy?"

Leonard nodded. "Welcome to the new America," he

said.

"How?" Chubby said, suddenly springing to life.

"How," Leonard said, rubbing his chin as though debating the question. "That's the key. How. And I'm guessing not just how, but how can you do it, too. That's kind

of a multipart answer. And let me tell you this. If you

aren't comfortable with the first part, you won't be right

for the rest of it. Ready? Here goes. You will make money.

You will also file a W-2. You will do everything a good

taxpaying citizen of this great country does, including

paying state and federal income tax...only what you will

be doing to earn that money will not be legal."

"The money is illegal?" Nikesh said.

146

Jason Pinter

"Money itself is never illegal," Leonard said. "It's how

you obtain it that determines the legality."

"So what will we be doing, exactly, that determines the

legality?" the black guy said.

"It's actually very similar to what you've all done

throughout your entire adult lives," Leonard said. "What

is finance? What is the stock market? It's a drug. It's

gambling. It's doing something that feels so right, that can

change your mood, change your mind, change your

outlook on things. Just like a drug, the stock market can

either expand your mind, or make you lose it. It all

depends on who's doing it and how responsible they are.

You're all pretty responsible guys, it's not your fault you

found yourself on the sole of God's shoe. So you'll be

doing exactly what you've done, and what you're good

at. Selling people things that make them feel good."

"Drugs," Morgan said.

Leonard cocked his head. "That's right."

Nikesh said, "I don't understand. If you sell drugs, how

can you file taxes on it?"

"That's for us to know and you not to worry about.

Once you come on board you'll file your taxes just like

anyone, and through our company, 718 Enterprises,

you'll be just like that waitress on the corner. Nobody

looks at her tax return, and nobody will give yours a

second glance either."

"What do we need to do?" Nikesh said.

"Simple. Every morning, you will arrive at a predetermined location at eight o'clock. You will be given different items in different quantities. You will dress the same

way you did today--like a businessman. You will carry

on you a cell phone that will be given to you on your first

day of work. Throughout your shift, you will receive calls

The Darkness

147

on your cell phone, alerting you to the location of your

next customer. We will also tell you what the customer

requires, and how much. You will go to the customer's

location, exchange money for goods just like anyone,

and leave. At the end of each day, you go home. Eighthour days. None of the ten, twelve, fourteen-hour crap

you're used to. The next morning you'll come back, drop

off all the money you received the previous day, fill up

your bags and start again. The faster you are, the more

runs you'll be given throughout the day, the more money

you will make. Those of you who prove that they can

handle a lot of runs will be promoted to later shifts. More

action, more money. At the beginning you will work with

a partner. This is for trust. You are your partner's eyes,

and vice versa. But you are also our watchman."

"Watchman?" Chubby asked.

"This business is built on trust," Leonard said. "Because of the sensitive nature of our business, we cannot

take risks. We thoroughly check out every single person

before we bring them here. We know everything about

you. Your background, your families, brothers, sisters.

Your son, Greg."

The black guy swallowed.

"If you do your job, you will make money. If you

decide you do not want to continue, that is your prerogative, provided you give us the customary two weeks'

notice. But if you decide that you suddenly want to, say,

alert anyone outside of our employ as to your job activities, you will be reprimanded. Severely. There are no

second chances, no third strikes. You are not in kindergarten. If you make your bed, you lay in it, and your first

offense is a punishable one."

"Punishable by what?" Morgan asked.

148

Jason Pinter

Leonard stopped. Looked at Morgan. "Let's hope I

never have to answer that question for you." Morgan said

nothing. "If you agree to be a part of our company, you

will start this Monday. You each came here with a

sponsor, and that sponsor will call you Friday night with

the location where you refill and drop off your merchandise and money. Work that starts Saturday morning. Yes,

Saturday. Your sponsor put their reputation on the line

bringing you here. Don't embarrass them. In a short time,

we will be starting an initiative that has the potential to

bring in even more revenue than I've already discussed.

But you only get to be a part of it if you start now. So if

you want to be a part of our organization," Leonard said,

"stay seated. If you decide this is not right for you, I'm

sorry to have wasted your time."

Nobody moved. Chubby had forgotten all about his

cuff links. Nikesh was absently rubbing his back pocket,

where his wallet was surely kept. Greg looked at the

table, briefly, considering the offer, then looked right

back up at Leonard. His eyes said that he was in.

Morgan did not move. The money seemed too good

to be true, but he knew Ken Tsang had fallen on hard

times and had gotten out of it. And if things didn't work,

he could always quit. But the opportunity was too good

to pass up. This was Morgan's way back in the game.

Suddenly a chair squeaked. Everyone turned to the

back of the room to see a short, balding man stand up.

He waved his hands, as though trying to explain a crime

he hadn't committed.

"I...I'm sorry," he said. "I can't do this."

Leonard tilted his head, a look on his face like a parent

who's been disappointed by a child they've put so much

effort into. "Jeremy, are you sure?" Leonard said.

The Darkness

149

"I--I'm sure. I can't be a part of this." He moved to

the back door, still wringing his hands.

"You've disappointed us," Leonard said, motioning to

the rest of the room, still riveted to their seats. "One last

time, Jeremy. Stay. You heard what I said to everyone

about our rules."

"I know, I...I heard you, but...I'm sorry, but I have

to go. Good luck, guys," Jeremy said, and he reached

for the door.

"Good luck, and farewell, Jeremy," Leonard said.

Then, lightning quick, Leonard reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun. And before Morgan even knew

what was happening, a crack echoed throughout the

room, and Jeremy's head erupted in a spray of fine pink

mist.

The dead man's body slid to the floor, leaving a grotesque red trail from the gaping wound in his skull.

Morgan recoiled, nearly tipping back in his seat, and

when he righted himself he shivered when he realized that

the conference room was dead quiet. The eyes that had

bugged out of their sockets were now growing accustomed to the violence that had just taken place. The heads

slowly began to swivel from the body back to Leonard.

He watched them do this, a look of apathy, a look of

simple
that's what happens
on his face. Morgan recognized

that face. He knew the emotions. He couldn't help but smile

when he realized who it reminded him of. His old boss.

"There will be no dissent," Leonard said. "There will

be no second-guessing, and there will be no turning back.

Every one of you came here for one reason, and that's to

regain some of the respect you had for yourselves. Jeremy

did not have this self-respect, and now he's dead. But

before you start thinking to yourselves that I'm some

150

Jason Pinter

kind of monster, let me tell you that if Jeremy had stayed,

like every one of you is going to stay, you will make every

penny you did at your old jobs. There will be no layoffs,

no cutbacks, no downsizing. If anything, your earnings

will grow at a faster rate than they ever could while you

sat in some wretched cubicle or soulless office. We will

be introducing a new product in the next few days that

promises to help you erase all those debts. Keep making

those mortgage payments. Keep driving that Lexus, keep

that sweet Russian girlfriend who wants to spend five

grand a month at Chanel. You'll have all of that--and

enough just in case you want to throw a dime on the football games on Sunday. Now, you can either take Jeremy's

way out, the coward's way out, or you can get back to

work and stay the man you were supposed to be. So,

men, are you in, or are you worthless?"

Morgan stood up. He felt a surge of energy through his

veins, his skin felt like it was on fire. "I'm in," he said.

Within seconds, every other man in the room stood up

and joined him. Leonard's eyes met each recruit as they

pledged to be a part of this. Morgan looked at each one

of them, silently bet himself that he would outearn each

and every one of them. And he knew from the way their

eyes met his that they were thinking the exact same thing.

Morgan Isaacs smiled.

Let the games begin.

"No second chances," Leonard said. "I'll see the rest

of you on Monday."

21

Amanda had just settled down on Henry's couch with a

glass of Pinot Noir, and the first sip tasted better than

anything she'd eaten in weeks. She'd skipped dinner, but

hell, wine had nutrients, didn't it?

It had been one of those days that never wanted to end.

Her feet felt like they'd been trapped inside thimbles and

she needed something to take the edge off. She'd been

with a client at the office until nearly eight o'clock, and

Amanda had come to the pretty secure conclusion that

humans were not meant to wear high heels for twelve

straight hours. So by the time she got to his place, weary,

weak, her dogs barking like nobody's business, she

wrenched that cork from the bottle faster than Pamela

Anderson dropped her drawers around a rock star.

And while all those excuses were reason enough to

have a drink--whether or not she continued with the bottle

depended on several factors--another reason was Henry.

Things were going well. They'd endured more rocky

periods in their relationship than the next twenty couples

combined, and she fully believed they'd come out stronger than ever. She never doubted his love for her. Even

when that brain of his got in the way, which it often did,

152

Jason Pinter

she knew it was only because he could be torn between

the right thing to do and the smart thing to do. It still surprised her how rarely those two choices were one and the

same.

Still, she'd learned a long time ago that trying to

change him was not only impossible, but defeated the

purpose and would undermine their entire relationship.

Henry was relentless. That was the bottom line, and God

did she love him for it. As much as her heart pounded

during the times where he scared her half to death with

his latest bit of reckless behavior, it was that full throttle

stopatnothingishness that made him a great reporter and

a great partner. Sure he did stupid stuff. He was a guy;

that was embedded in the DNA.

For every time he brought home flowers, he would

leave his underwear hanging from the bedpost. For every

time he said "I love you," he would chew with his mouth

open. But that's what made them so great. He wasn't

fake and didn't pretend to be perfect. Amanda had met