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Chapter 10 - From the Desk of Mordecai Crossbell

_I am still alive, my dear prisoner. _

You must be wondering how. How dare you.

How dare you doubt my ability to not only survive but endure and flourish in this world, in this base game against people I would hardly call my opponents, let alone rivals. I thought you knew me better than that. Clearly I gave you more benefit of the doubt than you deserve.

Yes, I was injured, far more than I had ever been in my life, but I was able to survive the whole ordeal at my Tower. Those twins...those...parasites that my Simon had clung to, they were a variable I had not factored into my calculations for success. I did not expect the stupid one to be so skilled with a knife, nor the quiet one to be so sharp with the bullet. I certainly did not expect that they could work the opposites' skills without hesitation.

For that, I deserve my wounds. I did not come this far in life to be assuming anything about anyone, but in the heat of the moment I let my mind give in to its baser functions, and as a result my plans had to be...amended.

Recovery was my biggest concern. I was injured like never before but I had a doctor on retainer who treated me in that luxury train car. We went across the country that morning. I did not remember the journey, merely tended to by that crazy madman who patched me up. By the time we arrived in this fog nest of a city I was able to move about with my arm and shoulder bandaged. For once my cane was necessary, but I still looked good stepping off the train. I was then stopped by a few reporters who wanted to know about what happened to Crossbell Tower.

The story I spun was simple but effective--due to an engineering flaw with the new electrical systems, the whole building had been a loss. I inferred that the tiger gang may have had a role in it, and that I was pressured for extortion money, so when I didn't pay, they sabotaged the building.

Insurance is a wonderful thing. I knew from the beginning that it would cost a large sum of money, but with the legal work I had done beforehand, I was shielded from the brunt of the economic stress. I had, after all, planned to lose the building. The only problem was that I had some setbacks that burned bridges for me in New York City. While I would not face any kind of legal repercussions, nor would I suffer excessive economic loss, no one in the city would do business with me.

No one for the inroads that I required.

So here I am, in a city that is as frontier as you can get. In a city where law is still questionable, and where people could still make a fortune by digging up rocks in the desert. It would be more than fine for my needs.

I do admit I had been complacent in my years since I left London. I was focused so much on Simon at first, but then I moved overseas and fell back into my routine of a businessman. I had let my boy linger too long with the rabble of the world, and he had changed yet again. That was of no concern; any kind of conditioning could be undone with time, patience, and my expert hand. I would have the boy I always wanted sooner or later, and any work I had to put into him would make him all the more enjoyable. I had to embrace the patient side of myself once again and not get ahead of my desires.

In the months since arriving I had healed nicely, though I do admit that my arm ached from time to time with the chilly air. But I had the best doctors in this city and I was eventually given a clean bill of health. The one thing I got tired of hearing was how lucky I was that I still had an arm -- that men usually had to have an arm amputated after such an injury. I even had to argue with one doctor who did want to take the bone saw to my body. I had his medical licence revoked before the month was up. Idiot.

I had better plans now. Far cleaner plans than ever before. Losing my Warrior, losing my Tower, it had put so much in perspective. I was almost giddy because for the first time in years, everything felt so clear and so perfect that I felt ten years younger. I also knew, above all else, that Simon would follow me here. I made it clear that this would be where I would go if things went sour in New York City, and the boy seemed keen to stay within my periphery. I was certain he was here, just lying low. That was fine; Simon had made it clear that he would show himself when he was ready.

I was admiring the view from my penthouse window, looking across the water of the bay, when there was a knock on my door.

Ah, the other key to my plan was here.

The boy who answered my door was a black fox, much like my Simon, and while he was no Warrior, he was pleasing to the eye. Young and flexible, he was an enjoyable distraction in this city while I waited for things to fall into place. I did not know his name; I did not care to.

"Thank you, Pawn," I said as my guest walked in. "Please leave us."

I imagined what my guest must think of me--the tall, handsome, noble caracal from London with a family lineage that would make lesser men wilt. I had donned my favourite green suit, pressed and fitted nicely. It was new, of course. My original was damaged, and I did not want to deal with someone complaining about how it was unsalvageable, so I had commissioned a new suit in a more modern and more American style. It felt different, sure, but living in the past was not where men of my calibre lingered for very long.

"Mr. Crossbell," the man across from me said. He seemed tense, quiet, contemplative. As always. He was definitely not something I expected when I first met him all those weeks ago. I took care to know his name, even if I internally did not give him such a luxury. This was my Broker, someone I dreadfully admit I needed in my employ.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Perry," said I with a smile and sat down in my chair at the wooden desk behind which I was standing. I motioned to the chair for the man to sit. "Sit, sit, I know it is quite a walk from Chinatown."

The man sat down looking warily at me. He did not trust me. I did not trust him. Not after New York.

"You have my new connections, Mr. Tristan Perry?" I said with a charming grin. The fox twitched at his name being used. He did not like it. Good.

"Yes, Mr. Crossbell," said the fox, who then reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and slid it across my desk toward me. "Names of people who will be willing to talk and back your campaign. People from all over the city."

"Excellent."

Names and connections were far more powerful than one realised. I took the letter from the envelope and spun it on its axis between two fingers. I kept my eyes fixed on the fox. Such a unique-looking creature, with multiple colours of grey, white, and black in his fur. A marble fox, a rare type of his species which I have neither hitherto met nor seen. His unique facial markings made him seem slightly sad at all times. He was handsome--there was no question about that--but he also didn't want to stand out, that much I could tell.

"You've never told me how you know these people," I queried.

"Does it matter?"

"It does." I leaned forward. "Knowing how you know these people gives me a base to start a relationship. You are the only connection between myself and these people, and if their knowledge of you is less than stellar, I would like to know."

"I've lived here my whole life," the man began, "and found that if you don't know people with power, you better have it yourself. Otherwise, you're likely to be crushed under the heel when push comes to shove."

"Eloquent, but not answering me. Do not waste my time, Mr. Perry."

The fox sighed and smoothed his head fur back with one hand. "Chinatown is my home, but ever since I was a boy I've seen people try to blame the people there for everything. Disease, poverty, theft, rape, prostitution... Every malady that faces this city has people pointing fingers to Chinatown."

"And it's not warranted?"

I saw anger flash behind his eyes. For a moment I felt tense. I had seen that look before, in the white one. It faded quickly.

"Absolutely not!" he said with a louder, firmer voice. "They are regular people from the Orient, nothing more. They aren't trying to destroy this city, they're just trying to make a life for themselves and find some way to continue living. Yes, some steal, and yes, some aren't the best. But show me a group of people in any city that is pristine, and I'll show you a man who isn't looking hard enough."

"So you make these connections--"

"To protect my home," Perry interjected. "When I was younger I made sure I got jobs in the richer districts. Sometimes as a waiter, a cleaner, whatever I could find. I was able to get to know many of the people there, anyone who wasn't so closed-minded that they would simply ignore me."

"You also fucked plenty of them," I said.

I grinned when he flinched. No, flinch is not the right word. He acted like I slapped him.

"Oh, don't look so dramatic," I continued. "Yes, you are a handsome man, and when you were younger, you were probably even more handsome. You found your way into many established beds, mostly widows who were lonely--or wives who no longer enjoyed the company of their husbands and earned for a passionate time with a younger man. They then introduced you to others, taking you to parties, helping you meet more people. You warmed beds for the rich. Some men, too, but those names are harder to find."

The fox gripped his hands into fists. "That...was a long time ago."

"Of course." A wave of a hand. "Once you had your connections, you no longer needed to use your body as your primary means of getting what you wanted. You then began to sell yourself, extolling the virtues of your heritage and upbringing, hence your shop selling oriental items to people who probably have half an idea of what they are."

"Is there a point to this, Mr. Crossbell?" Anger. Excellent. Off-balance.

I leaned slightly closer toward the fox. "My point is, you are a man who gets what he wants, and you are a man who will not let anything stand in his way. Hence our deal. I know you don't like me, and honestly, after meeting your family, I don't much like you, either. Your brothers are psychotic, you know."

"I wouldn't know," he responded tersely. "I never met them. Father said they burned in the fire in Chicago before I was born."

"Ruttiger Perry and Fizgerald Perry. Twins. Crazy. Devoted. And far more clever than they have any right to be. Your brothers were the ones who got me shot in the arm, and it is for that reason I will take my revenge on them someday. That doesn't bother you?"

"As I said, I don't know them. To me, they've been dead for years."

He was lying. Fine. I'll let him have that moment. Pushing his family was not my goal right now. I reached down and pulled open the drawer to my desk. I pulled out a leather pouch and put it down between us. "For the list."

The Broker reached out and took the pouch, opening it up and pulling out the stacks of money. He flicked through them and exhaled a sigh of relief. Like I would actually not pay him! How dare he think that I'm so low as to not pay a bill!

"I have to ask, what's your endgame here, Mr. Crossbell?" he asked, his dark eyes staring directly at me, observing my reaction.

I raised a brow at him. "That's rather rude and none of your business, Mr. Perry."

"My name will be on the line here if you start burning bridges. I spent a lifetime making these connections--"

"And you have been paid, again and again, and will continue to be paid as more names and information come my way. You are being compensated both here and for your...foreign endeavours."

I watched the fox scowl at me, which pleased me. He was too bold and too familiar to be asking me such plans. But I knew that if I didn't throw him some tidbits of information, he would just keep poking around until he discovered them himself. It wouldn't be a secret for much longer, anyway.

I replied: "I plan to run for mayor of San Francisco."

"Mayor? But..."

"Generally I would make my own connections through professional and social channels, but I'm a man who is tired of waiting, so I am, as they say, cutting corners. Your connections are valuable, and with your good name to go along with them, I can get the right people to listen to me and, with a little charisma of my own, get them to throw their support behind me."

"You'll never appeal to the common man," the Broker countered.

"That's not my problem. That's yours."

"Mine?"

"Yes," I grinned and leaned back in my chair. "You will get all of Chinatown to support me when my candidacy is announced. I know my name is all over that area, especially after my generous donations to that church of yours."

"I'm not a political boss, I'm just--"

"Stop LYING!" I slammed my hand down on the desk so hard that some of my items bounced and fell to the ground. "There are few bad habits I tolerate in my line of work, fox, but a liar is not one of them! We are in business together, so if you think I didn't pluck every bit of information about you, you aren't nearly as clever as I know you think you are."

I was standing now. So was the Broker. He looked angry. And I intended to keep him that way. I growled low in my throat and put both my hands on the desk, looming over it so we were closer.

"I will admit that you are skilled. It took me and my staff a bit of time to figure out just where all your money was going. Initially I thought you were funnelling it into that homey little area of yours, but no, you've been managing public funds, not private. So then I began to wonder...just _where_does this well-connected young man spend all his money?"

I walked around my desk. The Broker kept staring at me, his dark eyes unblinking. Just like those damned twins. I knew, especially from dealing with that homicidal black one, that this man was considering killing me. It was a good thing that I had my cane in my hand.

"Then I found it. Oh, you were good at hiding it. Using connections to organised crime back in Chicago? And New York? Clever. They're so far away that no one would think to look for any ties between you and them, living so far apart from one another. I found out that this handsome fox was actually buying up all kinds of weapons and ammunition. But, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

"Then it dawned on me. Your ancestry may be Japanese, but you were raised by the men and women in Chinatown, were you not? They're family to you just as much as anyone. So what is going on right now in China, Mr. Perry?"

Silence.

I made exaggerated gestures with my arms as I spoke: "War! Excess spending! Humiliating defeat! China, the Middle Kingdom as you so adorably call it, so elegant in its beauty and powerful in its once mighty military... have been made to bend the knee and suck the cocks of those better than them."

A flinch.

"You are actively funnelling money and weapons to China to spur a rebellion, to overthrow their government. That is your ultimate goal." I growled deep in my throat and stepped half a step closer. "You are fuelling a revolution that could cost millions of lives. My only question is... why?"

The fox moved so quickly. If I hadn't been ready, I may have ended up with my head in my lap. He brought his hand out from under his unbuttoned but draped coat. A blade... No, a dagger? It was attached to a rope at the hilt. It sliced out, and I felt the tip brush through my lapel. I pivoted and brought my cane up just as the blade was coming down again, locking the blade in the mouth of the snarling caracal. The Broker looked stunned. I was surprised at how strong he was.

"Your brothers aren't so easily provoked. And be thankful that I still need you, or you would be dead right now."

"Fuck you!" the marble fox snarled and pushed against me, shoving me back. I watched him tuck the blade back into his belt. "You want to know why? That Empress Dowager is destroying China, people are dying under her exorbitant spending, and the common man cannot get by! The taxes are high and the people are disillusioned with the Empire! They are the slaves of their own country!"

"Which doesn't --"

"Why do you THINK there are so many Chinese here, Crossbell? They are fleeing a country that is sick and dying. They put up with so much hate and discrimination and injustice here because, in the end, it's still better than living in that godforsaken land."

I lowered my cane, thumping it hard onto the wooden floor beneath our feet. "Ah. And you feel a kinship to these people."

"They took me in when I had no one, and they are the kindest and most wonderful people I could ever hope to know. They don't deserve to be treated like filth here in America, but at least here, they have a chance to survive!"

"So that is why you spend so much time and energy helping the new immigrants, especially at St. Andrews," I mused aloud, tapping my chin lazily. "You know, people in power would say you are wasting your time, that the rabble of the lower class aren't worth your time and energy, that--"

"DO YOU THINK I CARE?!"

The fox's hand shot out quicker than my eyes could follow. I did not see it until it was too late. The weighted end of the rope that was linked to the dagger shot straight across my cheek. Cut me. I was bleeding profusely. I winced and brought a hand up to my cheek, holding it. I pulled my gloved fingers away and saw crimson. I looked over just as the bladed weight was tugged back and in the fox's hand within a blink of an eye.

"You listen to me!" the Broke snarled. "I will help you, but do not judge me or what I do for the people you clearly don't care about. It doesn't impact you. I'll get them to vote for you, sure, but when you become the mayor and you don't deliver on your promises..." He snapped the rope of his weapon taut. "I'll personally see to it that you'll not live long enough to retire."

I took out a handkerchief from my pocket and lightly dabbed the wound with it. "Let me make one thing absolutely clear, Mr. Perry. You injured me. For that...impressive skill, I will let you walk out of here without a wound of your own. Make no mistake that our partnership will be beneficial to us both for still some time.

"But if you try to hurt me again, I promise you, I will burn down that hovel of a home you have and then, when the ashes are falling down around you, I _will_drag your charred but still alive body right to the police station and expose you for what you're doing, creating an international incident like nothing this country has ever seen before. I will make sure that you get the most painful of executions, and I will be there, front and centre, enjoying every moment of it. Then I will find your brothers and kill them all while I laugh about how their little brother couldn't control his emotions.

"Now GET OUT! Get me more names. I'll be expecting you next week, boy. If you value your life, you will not test me."

I watched the man weigh his options. His arm flinched and his tail slashed, and I knew he was close to testing his skill...but then he just let go of the blade, exhaled, and turned. In a sweeping motion, his weapon--the rope as well as the weighted end and the blade attached to its ends--snaked its way into his coat, disappearing out of sight. He looked over his shoulder at me one more time and walked out.

Once alone in my room, I looked at the bloodstained handkerchief. I swore that I would bring an end to that family once all the pieces were in place.

The world will thank me.