The downtown offices of Elvin Santos Holdings were situated on the 27th floor of one Central Point’s most exclusive high-rise buildings. The modern, black glass tower was not the tallest in Sol, but was far and away the most modern construction at only a few years old. Sporting the logo
MODUS in large, deep-blue font on the outside for its chief corporate occupant. The high-speed elevator system, boasted by a discreet placard in the lobby, could take a visitor from the ground to the 30th floor faster than any other building in the city. A changeover point had to be incorporated at the 19th floor to keep the process moving across the various banks, export, real-estate and foreign trade company’s employees in the most efficient manner possible. Paige had been slightly skeptical of the builder’s claim that it was the quickest in the Northwest, but when she’d stepped off outside Elvin’s offices slightly lightheaded, she conceded to herself that they were probably right.
Elvin was explicitly white collar in every way, but Paige knew the first time she met him that he was significantly more deviant and considerably smarter than the average miscreant in Sol City. He’d removed the “Delle” prefix from his last name after he put himself through college, but unlike the usual ghetto to glamor stories, he never let go of the family’s underground connections. Instead, he’d used them, when convenient to make himself rich by shrewdly playing both sides of law. She’d come across him while on the hunt for Bob, finding him the common denominator in many of the infamous Jazz-Night attacker’s handlers. He was
almost likeable, for a criminal, similar to a really good salesman at a used car lot. The information he provided then was sound, but she knew he was extracting some benefit in telling her. He lived by a few simple maxims, as he explained: Never get greedy, protect your investments, stay low-key and know when to choose the winning side.
In addition to its panoramic view of Central Point and the waterfront all the way down to the Matthews Bridge, the spacious corner office was filled with exquisite artifacts and set-pieces from all over the world. Handmade wooden furniture, books on a multitude of subjects and a sparkling chandelier hanging at center that, as he explained before, came from some Scottish castle in the twelfth century
or maybe it was the thirteenth?. She hadn’t been paying that much attention to that part of the conversation. She glanced momentarily at her phone to check the time as she fiddled with his golf clubs and the small putting area set up near his desk. There was an ornate mirror beneath a large framed Egyptian tapestry that apparently had to be kept at specific temperature to keep from disintegrating. All she remembered was it was an air-conditioned picture frame that cost more than several weeks of her Marshal’s salary. She looked at herself in the mirror briefly and sat down in his chair. When the door opened she spun around meeting the gaze of Elvin and his secretary.
“Ummm, Miss Carla, can you tell me why there’s a Federal Marshal in my office?” Elvin said. His tone rose to a sardonic note of false astonishment.
“I’m sorry Mr. Santos,” Carla pleaded. “She said she would arrest me if I didn’t let her in!”
“Did she?” Elvin replied. “What was she going to arrest you for?”
“I-I don’t know!” Carla continued. “She had a gun and a badge, I thought that’s just what they did. I’m sorry, sir!”
“It’s fine Carla, really” Elvin replied with a sigh. “I’ll just be a few minutes with the Marshal, tell my four o’clock I’ll be a little late.”
Paige waited for the young woman to leave. Her expression remained stoic as the attractive young girl shot her the stink-eye before closing the large office door. The striker clacked affirmatively deep in the hardwood before she spoke: “Let’s start with you telling me what you know.” Paige said. “Was it Sammy or was it Nikki?” She pivoted slightly back and forth in the large chair impatiently. “You’re handling property for them in Sol, you must know. If you don’t wanna tell me, I’ll just assume it was you.”
Elvin stepped back with a slight smirk and put one hand smugly in his jacket pocket and glanced around the office as if he were dealing with some child that may have broken something in his absence. His contacts had been right on the money about her though, all the way down to the Converse sneakers. Still, he’d been in the game for a long time and being chastised by a girl half his age gave him some amusement. She looked more like she belonged more in a Coed Calendar than behind a gun and a star and he could picture her wearing things other than a leather jacket and jeans.
“What do you know?” Paige persisted, interrupting his momentary fantasy.
“What do I know?” He replied, nearly mockingly. “I know that I’m just getting back from a luncheon with some clients and we were discussing our donations to the Salvation Army and I come back to find a Federal agent snooping around in my office.”
Paige playfully nodded and shrugged as he spoke as if she were going to believe him and just walk away with his story. She plunked a large caliber, snub-nosed revolver on his desk as soon as he spoke about her checking out his office. “Yeah, I found this in the false bottom.”
“I have a permit for that in my other pants.” Elvin replied.
“Sure you do,” Paige said. She began dumping the bullets from the cylinder onto his desk. “Did I tell you I was from Florida?”
“Uhhh…
Possibly? You have such a… lovely, dialect,” Elvin said referring to her noticeable southern accent. He was placed off-guard by her abrupt change in subject and watched her hands as the room was suddenly quiet enough that he could hear the dull, metallic sound of the shells touching one another.
“Yeah, I brought in this gun-runner from Cuba one time,” She said looking casually at one of the bullets in her fingers. “He used to have this little…
game he liked to play with his flunkies, test their loyalty, make sure they weren’t stealin’ from him.”
“Ok…” Elvin said slightly cautious and not at all curious.
“He’d take a gun kinda like this one,” Paige continued. Her tone lightened somewhat, thoughtfully in remembrance as she slid the single round back in the chamber. “Then he’d ask a question and if he didn’t think they answered truthfully, he’d pull the trigger…” She glanced back up at him, “You follow?”
“Seems simple enough.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Elvin paused and put his hands on his hips drawing his exquisitely tailored jacket back and keeping the same parental smirk. “What are you doing?” He chuckled and shook his head.
“Is that your question?”
“You think you’re gonna make me talk?” He said with only a modicum of uneasiness and a great deal of humorous disbelief.
“That’s your choice.” Paige replied standing up and stepping around the desk with the gun in hand.
“Or you’re gonna shoot me?”
“There’s a five outta six chance, I won’t.” She spun the chamber and flicked her wrist locking it back in place.
“Bullshit.” Elvin snapped with a devious grin.
“Where are they?” Paige said grimly.
“Kiss my ass.”
Click! The hammer dropped, but found no bullet waiting as the action rotated to the next slot in the cylinder. Elvin recoiled in terrified shock, jumping back nearly to the door from Paige’s outstretched arm. “Jesus Christ! What the hell!?” He roared throwing his arms up, “This is a public office!”
“Maybe you should call the cops.” Paige said advancing.
“You are the cops!” Elvin barked.
“Deputy US Marshal.” She corrected.
“Whatever! Y-You can’t just come in here and shoot me
because y-you feel like it!”
“Why not?” Paige asked calmly. “Isn’t that how you guys do it? Isn’t that why I still have this bruise on my face,” She brushed her hair back showing the faded blue and black where the mob attacker slammed her against the wall of her old apartment repeatedly. Her tone grew more ominous with each word and her eyes blazed with hellfire: “Isn’t that why he could’ve just as well put a bullet in the back of my head!? So you know what? Now we’re gonna play by your rules.”
“No, don’t-“ Elvin pleaded.
“
Where are they?” She cut him off.
“I don’t know!!”
She lifted her arm and pulled again.
Click!“FUCK! Stop it! What is wrong with you!?” He was beginning to involuntarily crouch down slightly keeping his hands in the air. Even though he was taller, she was beginning to have to look down to catch his eyes.
“You want me to stop?” She said, “Just tell me the truth.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” He hissed. He became suddenly aware he was panting for air while his heart slammed in his chest. He put one hand over it in an attempt to calm its adrenalin-fueled beat.
“Start by telling me what you do know.” Paige growled.
“Just gimmie a minute,” He coughed and attempted to catch his breath.
“No.” She raised the pistol again.
“HEY! HEY!” He raised one hand towards her in a vain attempt to ward her off. “Ok! What do I know?” He repeated the phrase several times before continuing: “I know that it was probably Nikki that set this all up, he wants you dead and he probably wants me dead too, he’s all about scorched earth, who do you think called off the bikers when you were raiding the hotel?
It was me!” He pointed at himself forcefully. “Sammy doesn’t do violence, he just wants to pretend he’s a big shot and live the life, they don’t even like each other that much.”
“And you don’t know where they are?” She still didn’t lower the gun.
“I don’t know!” Elvin barked. He searched his mind for more information to pacify her, “All I can tell you is Sammy’s old lady is into the jewelry collections, there’s an exhibit at the museum, Sammy doesn’t give a shit, but he’ll probably be along.”
“What about Margie?”
“She’s circling the wagons,” Elvin said, feeling some level of confidence in the safety behind his words. “She doesn’t want any part of this shitstorm you all started.”
“And that’s all you know?”
“That’s all I know!” He shouted back before she could barely get the words out.
Paige tilted her head a little, looking at him from behind the small sights. She kept the gun trained momentarily before lowering it away. “Ok,” She said quietly nodding. “I believe you.” She glanced at him hard before placing the gun on a small table and stepping past him never once letting her beam-like glare move away from his eyes. The large wooden door opened easily despite its soundproof weight to the boisterous noise of phones ringing and Elvin’s office staff chatting. As she shut the door daintily behind her, she thought she could hear the satisfying sound of him shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs. She smirked a little and walked back to the elevator.
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