Chương 55: Chapter 50: Partners of Association

Saint and Jack stepped into the room. It was not dirty, per se, but it was cluttered with tools and sawdust. Crates and boxes were stacked haphazardly, creating narrow paths through the space. Three people sat among them. If not for their clothing and Jack's preconceived notions, he might have mistaken them for friends meeting after work. The image was slightly unsettling. They looked equally comfortable here or in a fine dining restaurant. The three had been chatting lightly until Saint and Jack entered.

Jack took them in with a single glance, but his eyes lingered on one of the men. It was Harris, the fixer for House Draymoore. Jack's thoughts began to race. If these people were part of the underworld, why had Draymoore backed him at the council meeting? They had given up leverage intentionally? Jack opened his mouth to speak. Harris caught his eye and gave a subtle shake of his head. Not yet. Jack studied him more carefully than the others. He was calm and measured, acting as though they had never met.

That was the right call. Jack composed himself and waited for the first hammer to fall. Saint spoke first.

"Welcome," he said.

"Thank you all for being here. I believe introductions are in order." He gestured lightly to the others.

"As we all know each other, and we all know a little about Lord Breakwater here, it's only fair that we introduce ourselves properly. What do you say, Ladies first?" The only woman in the room stood. She wore a fitted dress elegant enough for a dinner party but sturdy enough for daily wear. Dust and grime from the room did nothing to concern her.

"I'd like to introduce Bella Anders," Saint said.

"Bella is our resident game maker and bet taker, among other things. She controls two of the city's four underground casinos." Bella stepped forward and offered her hand. Jack took it, bowing slightly as she curtsied.

"A pleasure," she said. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"All mine," Jack replied. Saint gestured to the next figure.

"Nestor Gloin," he said.

"He runs a substantial smuggling business from inside a legitimate one. If you want something, he can get it. He also happens to own three of the warehouses we need." Nestor was middle-aged, short, and thickset. There was a sense he had once been nimble before comfort and authority replaced motion. Jack offered his hand again, but the man simply grunted in acknowledgment. Jack nodded in return and lowered his hand.

"Lastly," Saint said, "Harris Norton." Harris rose. He stood tall and as composed as he had been all those months ago in the boathouse he now called home. This man effectively jumpstarted Breakwater Holdings, and now Jack was about to deal with him again.

"He's a fixer," Saint continued.

"Better yet, he manages a group of fixers. He works for everyone and anyone, for a price. And trust me, the price is significant." Harris showed no sign of recognition as he and Jack shook hands.

"I've heard a great deal about you, Lord Breakwater."

"That makes one of us." Jack's eyes twinkled as he chuckled at the joke. As their hands parted, Jack felt something pressed into his palm.

"I wish I could say the same," Jack continued evenly, slipping the folded note into his pocket. They each took their seats.

"Now," Saint said calmly, "let's address why I called us together. It's pretty simple, Money and a lot of it." He let the word linger. One thing Saint knew how to do was leave an impression. He might even be able to give Seraphine a run for her money in that regard.

"I am pleased to announce that phase one has already gone remarkably well. Jack, if you would." Jack stood.

"You may not have heard," he began, "but earlier today the council approved a plan that will dramatically reshape the Dock Ward and, ultimately, the city itself." He explained how he and Saint had positioned themselves. The two-phase approach. Purchasing rundown warehouses. Converting them into affordable, safe apartments. Quietly buying back the slums at cut-rate prices once they were rendered uninhabitable. When he finished, Nestor spoke.

"I see the value in the apartments. Long-term yield. Low upfront cost," he said.

"But why buy the slums? Anything built there will be a liability." Saint lifted a finger.

"That is the silent genius of the plan," he said.

"But before that, we must address the council meeting." He smiled broadly and Jack could tell he loved tweaking that man's beard.

"Jack's performance today was masterful. Truly. A lesson in puppeteering. He even got House Draymoore to not only back down but back him directly. Something I believe was definitely not planned in advance." Jack's eyes flicked to Harris. If the implication bothered him, he didn't show it.

"He even managed to strong-arm me," Saint continued.

"Twice. And somehow he has convinced me to thank him for it." Saint turned toward Harris to address him directly.

"I dare say he could maneuver even you. A feat most would consider improbable, if not impossible."

"So it would seem," Harris replied, mildly amused by the accusation. Saint laughed.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear of him sooner. The two of you together would be a dangerous pair." Harris shifted the conversation.

"If this works as you say, what do you require from us?" Together, Jack and Saint outlined the plan. They would jointly finance the purchase and rehabilitation of as many warehouses as possible. Bella, Nestor, and Saint would oversee those efforts. Harris would quietly acquire the slums. Profits would be split evenly. Twenty percent to each participant. Nestor frowned. Up until that last part, you couldn't have wiped the smirk off his greedy face.

"Nope, absolutely not. We're carrying the risk," he said.

"Five percent. Ten at most." Before Jack could respond, Saint shook his head.

"Everything hinges on Jack," Saint said.

"It's his plan. He gets twenty. He is already taking a significant decrease from our original agreement. Isn't that right, Jack?"

"20% of something is better than 30% of nothing." Jack's eyes twinkled as he shrugged. Bella and Harris nodded in agreement, and that closed the argument. After they dispersed, Jack unfolded the note Harris had pressed into his hand. Two days. Tea house.