#patmcsim

Pat had been given more range of the books, and his payment in return reflected that.  Nancy had always known how bright he was and was proud to know such a generous, wealthy businessman had taken notice and employed him.  She could provide most anything for their three daughters they now had, and she was able to redo their outdated, plain yellow kitchen into one more modern and colorful that she enjoyed.  She liked to keep things tidy and was happy making a comfortable home for their family.

It was 1982 and Pat was on his first business trip to San Myshuno.  He'd been invited to meet face-to-face, which he knew meant he would be given more responsibility and rank.  His knowledge of financial law and keen eye for loopholes had proven quite valuable, it would seem.

After all of this time, the man introduced to him as Jimmy wasn't nearly as imposing as he'd figured.  He was shorter and slighter than Pat, and looked about the same age as his father.  He had a plain face but sharp blue eyes.  A smile spread over Jimmy's thin lips as he studied his new accountant.

Sweet Spotted Sixams, you are Frank's son.

That was new and unexpected information.  Pat swallowed any display of reaction, and didn't move his eyes.  If Jimmy knew his father, this must've gone back much further than he'd imagined.

Jimmy couldn't read a thing in Pat's face.  He was so thrilled with this that he laughed.

I already like you.  Jimmy unbuttoned his jacket and sat down.

Have a seat, boyo.  Let's talk business.

----

He’d been waiting for the time to be right to move his family out of their first little home and into something much more impressive.  Nancy really had no idea how much money he made, had saved, or about the huge bonus Jimmy had just had delivered to him by way of his cousin's briefcase.

He kept an ear out for the real estate market, and on a warm fall evening he took Nancy and the girls to an open house of a beautiful midcentury home, secluded in an affluent corner of Willow Creek.

Nancy spent the whole time remarking on how gorgeous the house was and how wonderful it would be to be able to live in a house like that.

The girls thought the pool was the best part, and the big bedroom windows were exciting.

Pat told them to go wait by the car while he spoke with the realtor.

Nancy couldn't hear their low conversation over the girls' chatter.  She knew that Pat worked for a "generous, wealthy, private exporter" and that what he did wasn't in itself criminal, and that he didn't tell her any more than she needed to know for her own safety.  She knew how to put pieces together, and she didn't ask questions.  But as she watched Pat shake hands with the realtor, she started to fully realize what all of that entailed for him.

----

Most correspondence came in unassuming manila envelopes like any other, but occasionally Liam would stop by with any more sensitive business to relay.  He was always cheerful and full of stories about Jimmy, which Pat had gathered to be the name of this "wealthy private exporter" that was such a good friend of his uncle's.

One day just before Pat was about to take his lunch break, his secretary let Liam in with a more serious looking man holding a briefcase.

Jimmy really likes the work you're doing, said Liam.  He said you've certainly proven yourself and we can make this partnership official.

Pat knew better than to ask what was meant by that.  He figured he was already in deep the second he'd taken those stacks of cash.  The Serious Man set the briefcase on his desk and pulled out what Pat hoped was a tattoo gun, although he'd never seen one.

Liam had shrugged off his denim jacket and held out his right arm.

Look familiar?

Near the bend at his forearm was inked a lyre, flanked by 3 stars and surrounded by a thin circle.  His father's tattoo only had one star, and no circle.  His mother had always said his dad got the tattoo as a tribute to Windenburg before they’d moved.  He’d never questioned it.

He didn't let any of his thoughts show, but he had a sinking feeling through his body.

Holy cow plants, he muttered to himself.

This was a family business.

----

It was 1978 and Pat settled in quietly to his job as a junior accountant at a private firm in Newcrest.  Five days a week he put on a tie in the morning, had a light breakfast while Nancy fussed over their infant daughter, took his coffee to go and got in his sky blue Cutlass.  He sat in traffic on his way into work where he parked and took the stairs to his office on the third floor to avoid the crowded elevator.

He made enough for a modest life for his little family in their gambrel-roofed suburban home that Nancy kept neat as a pin.  He harbored his desire for more.  He was quick-minded and ambitious and knew there would be opportunities.

He hadn't at all expected his cousin Liam to come in from San Myshuno and request a meeting with him.  Liam was younger, barely out of high school, but he strode in with all the confidence of having his life set.

When Liam got done explaining his business, clearly dancing around truth without using lies, Pat sat back in his chair.

I don't need to know who you're working for, Pat told him.  If this patron of yours sends me accounts and pays me to sort it, I won't ask.

That's exactly what he'd want to hear.  Liam flashed a warm grin of the same kind his father had.  It made you trust him.  He'll give you a trial period, send you a few small things first, Liam explained, taking the briefcase he'd brought in and setting it down on the desk.

He flicked the clasps and turned it around, opening it to show Pat a few stacks of cash neatly tied down.

Like I said, he's very generous.  You'll be well compensated.

Pat studied his young cousin a second.  His chair squeaked as he reached across the desk to take what Liam offered, calmly slipping them into his own bag.  On the inside, though, his heart was pounding.

Why me?