Page 5 of Greed
“Because the survivor only saw you and Evan in uniform. Who do you think he’s going to say killed his thieving pals?”
“Evan’s okay?”
“He’s fine, but you owe us.” Parker slammed the stack of papers on Griffin’s chest. “This is the result of an algorithm Flint and I have been working on to isolate candidates for our remaining potential mates. It crawls data on the net and narrows down any candidate who might personify any of our sin’s opposing virtues. Take a look at it and give us feedback.”
Griffin met Parker’s eyes. “I’m not some sort of romantic matchmaker. I’m an analyst. You should know that since I work for your company.”
“Well, analyze the data. And... yeah, about working at Lazarus Industries. You’ve been reassigned, starting Monday week.”
“What?” Griffin stepped back, incredulous. “You can’t fire me.”
“Like I said, you owe us.” He handed Griffin another package—a folded newspaper. “And I’m not firing you. I’m transferring you to the Cardinal Copy Newsroom. A reporter has been printing defamatory articles about the Deadly Seven and we need someone on the inside to run interference and reconnaissance. Restoring our public opinion is of the utmost importance. Considering tonight you added to our bad name, you have to do this.”
“Also not a journalist,” Griffin said pointedly.
“Don’t need a journalist.”
“The answer is no.” He wouldn’t do it. He had a routine. He had work. He liked his work. He liked his office at Lazarus Industries. It faced the Quadrant’s central park. It was private and quiet. No one bothered him there.
If he did as Parker bade, everything would be messed up.
“It wasn’t a question, Griff. And it’s too late. We have a contact on the inside. Grace’s friend has put in a good word to get you an executive consultancy job. Officially, you’ll be analyzing and providing productivity and efficiency suggestions for the paper. Unofficially, you’ll be figuring out why this man is spreading false and misleading information. I want to know why, and I want it stopped.”
“Why me? Why not Sloan? She’s got tech skills. She does nothing but mooch around all day playing video games. I have a life. I was good at my job.”Am good at my job.
“Greed has been called out by this reporter on numerous occasions. For you, it’s personal.” Parker looked at the newspaper now in Griffin’s hand. “Take a look at the cover page.”
Griffin couldn’t adjust the packages without revealing the stolen item in his other hand, so didn’t. His throat closed up. Sweat prickled his scalp. This wasn’t happening.
“Whatever,” Parker said. “Look now. Look later. I don’t give a shit. Just look. You have an interview scheduled next week, and you’ll start the following Monday at eight.”
“So sure I’ll get the job?”
“You’re a Lazarus. Of course you’ll get the job.”
Parker sidestepped Griffin and made his way along the hall to the elevator, his dressing gown flapping like a royal cape as he went. Just before the doors closed, swallowing him up, he added, “I expect progress on the algorithm by family dinner Tuesday after you start work.” Then he was gone.
In a week’s time?
Griffin opened his apartment door, but it jammed a few inches in. He kicked. It didn’t move. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. Then he counted to a hundred in multiples of ten. When he opened his eyes, he nudged the door with his shoulder until it opened enough to let him through.
The lights automatically switched on, illuminating the rubbish dump he lived in. Once a pristine neat and tidy place, stacks of stolen items teetered all over the open planned living space. Each item was taken to atone for the acts of generosity he committed in the name of fighting crime. From books and newspapers, to expensive vases and jewels. Some would call it a treasure trove. He called it his nightmare, but at least no living souls were harmed from this collection. He’d never lost control, never been out of balance, never had a situation where the darkness swallowed him and greed took over. He threw the necklace into the void and heard a clatter as it landed and sifted down between the cracks of a pile.
He unzipped his jacket and tugged it off, immediately checking on the state of his tattoo. Equal parts black and white. Then why did he feel like his world was coming apart?
Chapter Three
It was six-thirty in the morning as Lilo Likeke rushed into the Cardinal Copy newsroom. Most other reporters made it by five-thirty to check the competitors’ news reels before starting on their own day.
She hurried along the carpeted corridor in her sensible heels, popping a double wad of blueberry gum to take her mind off her hunger pangs. She’d forgotten to stock her pantry. It was her own fault for giving the last of her milk and bread to the stray cat who frequented her fire escape.
When she got to her desk, she ditched her threadbare satchel bag, waved a quick hello to Beverly Saks, the blue-haired sixty-five-year-old advice columnist, then rushed toward the break room.
Bev went on a new date every Tuesday, played poker on Thursdays, and went to Bikram Yoga with their friend Misha on Sundays. Bev was amazing. Lilo hoped she’d have the guts to live so vigorously at Bev’s age because, right now, at twenty-eight, she felt like a jaded old woman. Being a criminal investigative reporter could do that to you. Being the daughter of a city mob boss could also do that to you.
Shaking thoughts of her father away, Lilo snuck into the break room before her senior editor, Fred, could spot her. He’d assigned a story yesterday, and she’d done nothing on it. Admittedly, it was about a dog who rescued his owner from severe dehydration by feeding him toilet water, only to have the owner contract Hepatitis A, and in turn attempt to sue his dog—not exactly a riveting criminal case, especially since she’d been chasing vigilante leads for weeks.
The last time she’d had a break in that direction was two months ago when she’d been with her friend Grace walking home from a restaurant. Pure luck had her at the scene to witness one of the Deadly Seven helping local enforcement detain a group of white-robed terrorists. It was a momentous occasion. Not only had a vigilante come out of hiatus, but he’d demonstrated a supernatural ability—electricity came out of his hands! The story had put the crime fighting group firmly in the superhero category, which was unheard of outside of comic books. Since then, although no more superpowers had been reported, there had been numerous Deadly Seven sightings.
