The Con Job

by Matt Forbeck

  Parker shrugged, not seeing the point. Sophie raised an amused eyebrow at Nate.

  Hardison held up a finger to tell the others to let him finish. “And the names and passwords of everyone who had a membership on the site.”

  “Ooh,” said Nate. He was so surprised he stopped laughing. “That’s going to hurt.”

  “What’s the big deal?” Parker said. “A moment ago you were all laughing about the idea of exposing Kanabe’s porn habits. Isn’t that the same thing for all those other guys?”

  “And girls,” Hardison said, correcting her.

  “It’s one thing to embarrass the man,” Nate said. “It’s something else to ruin his business—even if it is a side business—and embarrass all his customers at the same time. That switches him from a laughingstock to a target.”

  “How bad could it get?” Parker said, still a little confused.

  “It depends who’s on that membership list,” Eliot said. “Most people, what are they going to do? Write him an angry e-mail?”

  “It’s a long list,” Hardison said.

  Eliot shrugged. “Toss in a few yakuza, you never know. Mr. Kanabe could wind up short a few fingers after this.”

  “Or other appendages,” said Nate. He nodded at Hardison, impressed. “Good work. I’m not sure if it was wise or not, but it’s bound to make something happen.”

  “But there’s more,” Hardison said. “I also found out where Kanabe’s land is.”

  “I thought you did that last night,” Parker said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Ah! That’s where the land he’s trying to sell is, yeah, but he’s got a whole lot more stuff that he’s holding on to, stuff that’s not on the market.”

  “That’s curious,” said Sophie. “Perhaps he’s keeping it for some kind of a development he has in mind.”

  “Could be,” Hardison said with a nod. “Most of it’s clustered in the same spot, all of it right around the Anaheim Convention Center.”

  Nate frowned. “Is that a coincidence? I mean, we’re here at another convention center. What’s the connection?”

  “As you might guess from the crowds here and how much trouble we had snagging a hotel room, Comic-Con’s getting too big for San Diego. There’s been talk about moving it out of town for years. Guess which city had the next best bid?”

  “Anaheim,” said Eliot.

  “Right. Now those talks started a few years back, and Comic-Con has since extended its contract with San Diego through 2015, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t move it up there once that’s done.”

  “Or that they couldn’t find some way to break their contract here if they really needed to,” said Nate. “Kanabe would stand to make a killing on his real estate holdings near the convention center in Anaheim if Comic-Con moves, wouldn’t he?”

  “It would make it a lot easier to sell off those places, for sure.”

  “But how does helping to host an auction of stolen comic-book art help that happen?” Sophie said. “Even if Patronus’s plot gets exposed, that wouldn’t be enough to ruin the city’s reputation. Would it?”

  Nate shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t. There’s something else going on here, something deeper. We just got to keep digging until we find it.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  The sun beat down on the San Diego streets, but the breeze coming in off the sea kept the air balmy. Sophie would have preferred to take a taxi or a hired car down to her meeting with Patronus, but it was only five blocks from the Horton Grand to the Tin Fish. Even this long after the exhibit hall had opened on Friday, the traffic downtown was a horrible snarl, and it was easier to just take the stroll rather than worry about maintaining her disguise as a New York artist’s agent. The sidewalks still hummed with people, many of whom were strolling back to the convention center after lunch. Sophie hoped that the crowd at the Tin Fish would have thinned out, at least just a little.

  She’d taken care to walk the route separately from anyone else, including Nate. Well, especially Nate. While their relationship had grown much closer over the past few months, it didn’t mean they didn’t have a job to do.

  If she had to be honest, Sophie might have admitted that without Nate she’d have given up this Robin Hooding long ago. She discovered that she rather enjoyed helping people in this way, and it gave her a good excuse to keep herself busy doing something good rather than using her skills to steal from people who didn’t deserve it (although they could always afford it). But the risk-to-reward ratio almost never added up, at least if she were only to think about personal rewards.

  But Nate never did. To him, it had never been about the amount of money they could make. He only cared about where it was coming from and how much good it could do for the people who’d had it taken from them in the first place. He was the kind of good person Sophie had often hoped existed, but she had seen so little proof of it that she’d been willing to discount it entirely up until she’d met Nate.

  At first, she’d not believed in him—or that there could ever be anyone like him—but he’d shown her how much he cared about his work in dramatic fashion, time and time again. As a grifter, she’d worked in such rarefied and wealthy circles that she’d come to accept bitterness, deceit, and tragedy as the bulk of the human condition. By showing her good people who needed help, Nate had proved to her not only that he was a good man but that he wasn’t the only one around.

  That’s what kept her with him despite his flaws. He drank too much, and he wasn’t emotionally available to her at all times, but she suspected those two traits were connected. Despite that—or maybe because of it—he needed her, and she’d long ago realized that she needed him as well.

  For that reason, she’d insisted on him giving her at least a ten-minute head start before he left the hotel after her. She didn’t need a shadow, for one, but she especially didn’t need Patronus or anyone he knew making a connection between the two of them before she was ready. Patronus would have enough reasons to be suspicious of them on his own. They didn’t need to furnish him any extras.

  Eliot had left the hotel an hour before Sophie, and he’d already reported in. “Patronus got here ten minutes ago,” he’d said. “Twenty minutes early. He’s one anxious artist.”

  Hardison hadn’t been needed for this part of the operation, so he’d scampered off to the exhibit hall as fast as he could. Parker had gone with him to let him show her around. Sophie thought that might be good for her. Despite her skills as a burglar, she’d led a terribly sheltered life. Getting out and doing things in a crowd could be good for her, especially with Hardison as her expert guide.

  “I’m just about there,” Sophie said for the benefit of her earpiece as she crossed Fifth Avenue at L Street. The restaurant’s bright blue awning beckoned to her, drawing her in until she spotted Patronus standing under one of the many palm trees scattered about the place’s outdoor dining area. He waved to her, and she strolled over to him and shook his hand.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” she said.

  “Just long enough to work up an appetite,” he said with a winning grin. “Shall we?”

  They got into the line to order their food, which moved much faster than Sophie would have guessed. She inspected the menu and made a quick decision, choosing the fish and chips. It wouldn’t be as good as the stuff she’d grown up on from the chippie around the corner, back home in the UK, she knew, but it would still feel like comfort food to her.

  They placed their order, and Patronus insisted on paying. Sophie refused. “I’m the agent, and you’re the client,” she said. “Consider this part of your courtship. Lunch is on me.”

  “All right,” he said with a laugh, throwing up his hands. Although he tried to keep cool, he smiled at everything she said.

  Sophie understood why. As far as he knew, she was about to make his dreams come true. She’d almost feel sorry for him if she hadn’t known exactly what he’d done to all those elderly artists whose shoes he hop
ed to be able to fill.

  Within a few minutes, they were sitting at a steel table under the shade of another palm tree and enjoying their meal. Sophie had to admit, the fish tasted fantastic. She loved eating seafood when she was close enough to see the sea—or would have been if not for the convention center blocking her view.

  “So,” Patronus said, “that seemed like a wonderful meeting with Warren Ellis yesterday. What’s our next step?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I’m not so sure. Warren talks a good game, but I know for a fact that he hasn’t lined up enough funding for this little venture of his quite yet. News Corp. is willing to put up about half the money he needs, but they don’t know the market as well as they would like to be comfortable enough to fund the whole thing. They want Warren to bring in some outside investors to chip in for the company’s other half.”

  “Makes sense,” Patronus said, sitting back in his chair. A spot of grease dribbled down his chin and stained his tie. He picked up a napkin and wiped it away as best he could. “They reduce their risk, and they hopefully get in some backers who have some cred within the industry. That makes the venture look better and raises the value of their investment.”

  “Exactly!” Sophie patted Patronus on the arm and gave him a smile. “It’s not that they can’t afford it, but they want the division to succeed or fail on its own. They could just operate it as a loss and use it to generate ideas for their film and television units, of course, but that would only last for so long. Besides, Warren wants to prove to the world that it’s possible to make money at comics and not be relying on heroes that were created fifty or seventy-five years ago. This is his big chance.”

  “So he’s putting some of his own money into it?”

  “As much as he has. Warren’s a terribly successful comic-book writer, but he’s not a wealthy man. At least not by Rupert Murdoch’s standards—but then, who is?”

  Patronus took a sip from his drink. “Does he have anyone else lined up?”

  “That’s one of the big reasons he’s here,” Sophie said. “And the reason he’s incognito as much as he can be. If you read his Twitter feed, he’s pretending to still be in England. You watch. If anyone reports him being here, he’ll categorically deny it.”

  “Clever,” Patronus said. “So is he having any luck?”

  “Some,” Sophie said with a coy tone. “I’m helping him out a bit with this. I’m meeting up with a few potential investors today. With luck, we’ll have the whole thing sorted, and we’ll get you signed to Warren’s new company soon.”

  “Do we need any paperwork between us?” Patronus said. “I’ve never had an agent before, but I understand there should be a contract.”

  “Of course there is,” Sophie said with a smile, “but we can handle all of that once I get back to the office. No need to worry about it right now. A handshake’s good enough for me if it’s good enough for you.”

  Patronus stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Nate strode up to Sophie’s table. This was the first time he’d seen Patronus in person, and he had to resist the urge to haul the man to his feet and punch him in the mouth. He knew, though, that with a bit more patience and a little finesse, he could hurt the man with far more than a sock in the jaw. He could take every penny he had and ruin his reputation too.

  “Hey there, Jess,” Nate said to Sophie. “Hope you had a great lunch. I just finished up with Mark Waid and his people. He’s got all sorts of crazy ideas for this online comics venture. Keeps going on and on about Thrillbent.com or some other name like that. Brilliant stuff.”

  “Mark Waid?” Patronus said. “The writer Mark Waid?”

  Nate sat down at an empty chair at the table between Sophie and Patronus. “You know any others?” he said with a wisecracking grin. “Of course it’s the writer. Great guy.”

  Nate turned to Sophie and spoke in a confidential tone. “He’s looking to buy in, if you know what I mean.”

  “It’s all right, Jeff,” Sophie said to Nate. “I’ve already brought Lorenzo here up to date. Oh, and I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Lorenzo Patronus? Jeffrey Mace.”

  “Jeff’s fine,” Nate said as he shook Patronus’s hand.

  “Good to meet you, Jeff,” Patronus said. “Can I ask what your role is in all of this?”

  Nate’s face cracked into a grin. “I’m the attorney that’s setting this whole deal up. I write the contracts, negotiate the agreements, and make sure everyone signs everything on the bottom line. It’s simple, right?”

  Nate laughed, then answered his own question. “Actually, it’s a huge pain in the ass, but I love my job and wouldn’t want to do anything else in the world. Especially not when I get to work with such wonderful people as Jess here.” He clapped Sophie on the knee.

  “I can understand that,” Patronus said with a convivial smile. “It sounds like you must be a man with a great deal of ambition. I think we’re alike in that way, you and I.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.” Nate rubbed his eyes. “All I know is that we’ve crammed a full week’s worth of meetings into four days, and my sleep schedule is paying the price for it.”

  “So what’s next on your agenda?” Sophie said to Nate.

  Nate waggled his eyebrows at her. “Got a big meeting with a few whales in just a little bit. It’s up in the Skybox Boardroom at the top of the Omni.” He waved his hand toward the hotel that towered over them a block to the east. The sun gleamed off its curved, glassy facade.

  Nate leaned forward. “Between you and me, I think they just like to impress me with the fact that the place they work is right next door.”

  “They own the Tin Fish?” Patronus said, surprised.

  Nate knew the man wouldn’t be too impressed with people working in a restaurant, but he’d set him up to make the wrong connection. “No, no, no,” he said with a laugh. “They’re ballplayers—with the Padres—but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  Patronus sat back in his chair, duly impressed. The Padres played at Petco Park, which sat on the prime real estate right behind the Omni.

  “People like that, they’ve got money to spend—to invest, even—but they don’t always know what to do with it,” said Nate. “Their advisers, if they have any, always counsel them to put their money into things like stocks and bonds. T-bills, even.”

  “But those kinds of investments aren’t always enough for them,” Sophie said. “They’re too boring. They’re competitors, after all. They want to get involved with something they can understand, like comics.”

  “Something with a risk, something that they can win at,” Patronus said, understanding. “I get that. I’m the same way.”

  “The smart ones always are.” Sophie patted Patronus on the hand and watched him grin at the contact.

  “Here’s hoping they go for it,” Nate said. “That would solve all our money problems quick. News Corp. isn’t going to wait around forever. I have a meeting with them on Sunday, and we need to have this all wrapped up by then, at least on paper. Better to catch them now while they’re caught up in the fever of the show.”

  “It is contagious, isn’t it?” said Sophie.

  Patronus began to fidget in his chair. He rubbed his chin as he watched Nate and Sophie chat. He wanted to be a part of this deal, Nate could tell. He saw other people making what he thought would be easy money in the industry he wanted to be a part of, and it gnawed at him.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Patronus said. “How much are you looking for?”

  “Just pocket change for some of these guys,” Nate said with a dismissive way. “A million bucks, maybe two. Scrappy little comic company start-up can roll for a long way on that kind of cash.”

  “It’s almost too little money.” Sophie gave Nate a sympathetic grimace. “Investors like that sometimes don’t want to bother their lawyers about the contract until you add another zero to those numbers.”

  “True. And comic-book publishers aren’t e
xactly the safest places to put your money.” Nate sighed, letting Patronus see how tired he was, how much he wanted this deal to happen. “But we’ve got something those T-bills and bearer bonds don’t have: fun. That’s what those guys want, and that’s what I’m going to sell them on.”

  “It’s a fine plan,” Sophie said. “I’m sure it’ll come through.”

  Nate slumped a little. “Yeah, and the other angle is that if we do wash out entirely, it’s not for that much cash—at least to those guys, right?” He gestured to Patronus. “Guys like us, it’s a whole ’nother matter, isn’t it? But to them—worst case?—it’s an amortizable tax write-off they can use to offset profits from their shares in Apple.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got all the angles covered,” Patronus said.

  Nate shrugged. “Here’s hoping. My only real concern is that I’d rather have investors with a bit more skin in the game, people the money would matter more to. When guys like that put their cash in, they’re in for the long run. They work hard to make sure their investment flies. They don’t start griping at the first sign of trouble, wondering whether they’re going to have to settle for a ninety-foot yacht rather than the hundred-foot model.”

  Nate patted a hand on the table. “Still, their money spends as well as anyone else’s, so I’m off. Wish me luck.”

  With that, Nate made to leave, but before he could rise, Patronus put up a hand for his attention. “If that’s your problem, Mr. Mace, maybe I can help?”

  Nate sat back in his chair. “Call me Jeff.” He waited for Patronus to continue.

  “I happen to be holding a huge auction of original artwork here at the show on Saturday. By the time that’s over, I should have the cash in hand to make a substantial investment in your company.”

  Nate’s eyes widened as Patronus spoke. He turned to Sophie. “That true, Jess?”

  Sophie gave Nate an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mention that?”

  Nate shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered you telling me your new artist client was the guy behind that huge auction they’re holding in the exhibit hall.”