Chapter Thirty-Five - OLIVER
“That was a joke, right?” I ask Pax, who is still grinning like the mysterious guy he is.
“Look,” Pax says, crossing his arms and leaning back on the server cabinet. “Liam called me and made an offer.”
“You’re not killing West. I don’t care how much of a dick he is, he’s still one of us.”
“Give me a break, Shrike. Of course I’m not going to kill him. But I can fake it long enough to get the answers we need.”
“How? You don’t think that guy wants proof?”
“Are there more of these dark web marketplaces? Or is this the only one?”
“Of course there’s more.”
“Then let’s find one.”
“Pax—”
“Just listen to me, OK? If everything is for sale—and clearly it is, since you’re selling some deeply disturbing shit on this site—”
“It’s not my site. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“—then we can buy a reporter, don’t you think?”
“Why would we want to buy a reporter?”
“To give us proof. What if we buy a reporter, we stage a murder scene, and then we get that reporter to put it on the news? I could show Liam the proof and he will hand over the answers.”
“I don’t like it. And I don’t think we can buy a reporter, Pax.”
“Sure we can. The media is corrupt as fuck these days. We can dangle money in front of them, send them pictures, they put it on the air, and we do our business. As soon as we get what we need, they retract. I think this is how it’s done, Oliver. I don’t even think they will blink. They don’t have to know we’re lying. We just send them the info, they air it as an anonymous social media photo, and bam. We’re golden.”
I think about it. Look for the pitfalls. But really, he has a point. There are all kinds of things that go viral these days that get picked up by the media.
“And then what?” I ask.
Pax smiles because he knows I’m in. “I don’t know yet. I guess it depends on what the girls have planned.”
A faint banging comes from the other side of the door. I can just barely make out West yelling upstairs. “He knows we’re down here.”
Pax looks at his watch. “We gotta get this shit started anyway. I’d like to have Weston dead by the end of the night, if we can swing it.”
I just look at him. “Do not say that outside this room, you understand? And I’m not on board yet. Not until West agrees. So go upstairs and get him and bring him down here so we can talk.”
I turn away before I can see his reaction, but I am all too familiar with Paxton Vance’s bulldozer attitude once he makes a plan. I have no doubt Weston Conrad will be dead by tonight.
A few seconds later footsteps thump down the stairs and then West, appears, followed by Mac, Nolan, and then Pax.
“Did you lock it up?” I ask him.
Pax shoots me a look closely related to the one I missed a few minutes ago. What do you take me for? this one asks.
“What’s this all about?” Mac asks, leaning up against the wall, arms crossed.
“Mr. Mysterious has a plan to discuss.”
“What kind of plan?” Nolan asks, narrowing his eyes. He’s always been a suspicious fuck. Not that I blame him.
“Remember when I told you Liam called me and asked me to finish the job?”
“The job?” Mac asks. “You mean the one where he was paying you to set up West and then kill him?”
“Hey,” Pax says. “That last plan worked like a charm. I saved your ass.” Pax and West glare at each other. “You should be thanking me, Corporate. Because I’ve just had a stroke of brilliance.”
West doesn’t look convinced. “Is that so?”
“Well, what is it?” Mac asks.
Nolan laughs. “He’s gonna kill him probably.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Pax says, his smile so big he looks like a crazed psychopath. Did I really consent to my sister dating this guy? What the fuck was I thinking? “Yes! Hahahaha.” He laughs. Then his face goes dead serious. “Not really, you assholes. West,” he says, looking at him. “You know I might not like you much, but I’ve always had your back. And I’m sorry about this, buddy, but they want you dead. If I kill you, Liam will talk. We need answers, brother. So take one for the team, OK?”
I put my hands up to stop the uproar. Then place two fingers on my tongue and whistle shrilly to shut them up. “Stop,” I say. Nolan is tugging West off Pax and Mac is pushing Pax into a corner to keep them from fighting.
“Knock it off, you dicks. It’s a fucking figure of speech, Weston. For fuck’s sake. Don’t you know him well enough by now? He’s just trying to piss you off.”
West pushes Nolan off him and straightens his shirt. “Well, excuse the fuck out of me,” he says, breathing hard and pointing a finger at Pax, “for not thinking any of this shit is funny. I’ve got way too much on my mind to deal with his childish bullshit.”
“I have to side with Weston on this,” Mac says. “Knock it off, Pax. And just explain the goddamned plan.”
“OK, let me fill you in on a few things Oliver just updated me on,” Pax says, looking at me for permission.
I nod. What’s the point in hiding it now? This shit is happening. There is no way what’s going on with my site on the dark web will be secret once this is all over. I know it. I’m being set up. We’re all being set up.
Pax explains the plan to fake-kill West and hire a reporter in the dark market to air it. Make it go viral. Everyone is pretty quiet while he lays out the plan, but once he’s done, they are nothing but questions.
“Where will we take this picture?” West asks.
“How will we make it believable?” Nolan adds.
“What if Liam doesn’t believe it? What if he wants a finger? Or a baby toe?”
“A baby toe?” Pax says, making a face at Mac. “Were you watching The Big Lebowski before you got here?” Pax shakes his head as Nolan huffs out a laugh. “Fucking toe. No one wants a stupid baby toe for proof.”
“Whatever,” Mac says. “You get what I’m saying. I don’t think he’ll believe it unless he sees a dead body.”
“And we’re not gonna have a dead body,” West says.
“But we will have the next best thing,” Pax says, beaming a huge smile at me. “Oliver’s cousin-friend, Sparrow Flynn, owns the Fort Collins Theater, right?”
“So?” I say. “We’re not getting her involved. Believe me, she is so strait-laced, it will never stay secret. She will tell every one of my relatives before the sun goes down. My dad will come over.” I shake my head, just picturing it. “And my mother will overreact and start pulling out guns. No. We can’t use Sparrow.”
“What if she doesn’t know?” Pax says. “There’s a huge ZombieFest this weekend for Halloween, right? And she runs the new haunted house in town?”
“Yeah? So?” I say again.
“Cindy said it’s pretty hardcore. Like they have professional makeup artists for the blood and gore.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Nolan says. “That’s genius, Mysterious.”
Pax looks proud of himself. “Why, thank you, Romantic. I do my best. So all you gotta do, my little matchmaker friend,” Pax says, clapping me on the back, “is tell her West is going to a costume party tonight down in Denver and needs help. Make the rest of that lie up for me, will you? You’re good at that.”
I ignore his insult and think it over as I scratch the hair on my chin. “Sparrow,” I finally say, “has West painted up like he took a bullet to the head. Then we take the picture, buy a reporter from the dark market, and have him leak it.”
“Exactly,” Pax says.
“Tell me again why we think people are gonna care enough about this one murder to show it on TV?” Mac asks.
“Because it’s Weston Conrad,” Pax says. “The Misters are back, gentlemen. And as much as people would like to say they’re not interested in our debauchery, they are. So let’s give them the headline they’ve been waiting a decade for.”