Jeremy Abbott had always been a fundamentalist at heart. While he was not quick to believe any declaration, he was aware that change was predetermined and coping beneficially meant adhering to a strict set of principles he developed in his youth.
Of these, he knew to be true: nothing was free, death was inevitable, the fine line between ally and enemy was simple to be breached, half-truths bred survival, and anything could be bought with enough of the means.
It was, perhaps, the conflicting nature of some of his principles that he would condemn in hindsight, but for the time being, he was preoccupied. A rational person would not be planning a fake payout to some of the most powerful men in the state, perhaps the country in the effort of saving their own skin. Then again, he reasoned, a more rational man would not be in this situation in the first place, owing millions in revenue to a handful of people who would just as soon see him crucified for his misinformation.
He would be the first to admit his faults. And as it was, he was limited and his current position was precarious at best. One whiff of foul play and he could count on the grave.
He would not be abandoning his principles. He still had a few cards to play, and one a woman by the name of Cori, upon whom he’d placed his final bet. Jeremy had always been, in some form, prepared for this. A contingency using his clients had perpetually crept in his mind. He kept detailed references for this purpose. Though hardly forthcoming, he’d strung up enough connections in the city to at least score a legal name, address, place of employment. And for the high paying customers, he paid a few of his best to shadow them, to learn their routines, and if needed, to give them a push in the right direction if they seemed to be… disloyal to him.
The woman was one of his highest paying customers, and one of the least obvious, which would buy him some time at best. She would have to do.
He looked back over his files. He would be finalizing the plans for the payout tonight. If all went according to plan, tomorrow the fallout from his set-up would have eyes off him long enough to disappear again, to restart, to rise in the ranks. If not… he looked back at the note by his arm.
A certain woman would be visiting him tomorrow, if his intel was correct and human predictability upheld, and she would be getting much more than she bargained for.
