Ransom

Addison was smarter than that. He never touched the drugs he sold. He was clever, and ingenious about how he ran his underground empire. Most of the time, he was a good judge of horseflesh. He had made a mistake in Peter, he had thought he was more ambitious than he was, and more devious. In the end, Peter was just another nice guy gone wrong, who had no idea what he was doing. A guy like him was a real risk to Phillip Addison, because he had all the wrong instincts. Peter had been a petty criminal, forced into it by circumstance and poor judgment, and eventually his own addiction. Addison was a major criminal. For him, it was a lifetime commitment. And for Peter, only a pastime. But in spite of that, Addison thought he could use him. He was smart, well educated, and had grown up with the right people in the right places. He had gone to good schools, was good-looking and presentable, had married well, even if he had screwed it up. And a Harvard MBA degree was nothing to sneeze at. When Peter and Phillip Addison had met, Peter even had the right connections. Now he had blown them, but if he could get on his feet again, with Phillip's help, Addison thought he could be useful. And with what he'd learned in prison in the last four years, perhaps even more so. He had been an amateur conman before, an innocent gone wrong. But if he'd turned pro, Addison wanted him, no question. What he needed to assess now was what Peter had learned, what he was willing to do, and how desperate he was at the moment. His minor claims of only wanting to work legally were of no interest to Phillip. He didn't care what Peter said. The question was what would he do, and the debt he still owed was only a plus in their dealings, from Phillip's viewpoint. It gave him a hold over Peter that appealed to Phillip immensely, and a lot less to Peter. It also hadn't gone unnoticed by Addison that Peter had never divulged his name or exposed him once he was arrested, which showed that he could be trusted. Addison liked that about Peter. He hadn't taken anyone down with him when he went down. It was the main reason why Addison hadn't had him killed. Peter was, in some ways at least, a man of honor. Even if it was honor among thieves.

Peter rode the bus to San Mateo wearing the only clothes he now owned. He looked neat and clean, and had gotten himself a decent haircut. But all he had to wear were the jeans and denim shirt and running shoes they'd given him in prison. He didn't even own a jacket, and he couldn't afford to buy a suit for the interview. As he reached the address on foot, he felt overwhelmed with trepidation.

And in his office, Phillip Addison was sitting at his desk, reading through a thick file. It had been in a locked drawer in his desk for over a year, and was a life's dream for him. He had been thinking about it for nearly three years now. It was the only project he wanted Peter's help with. And whether or not he was willing to do it was of no interest to Phillip. Whether he was capable of pulling it off was the only question. This was the one thing he was not willing to risk, or do badly. It had to be done with the precision of the Bolshoi Ballet, or the surgical instruments he made, with the infinite pinpoint perfection of a laser. There was no room here for slippage. Peter was perfect for it, he thought. It was why Addison had called him back. He had thought of it the moment he got the message. And when his secretary told him Peter was there, he put the file back in the locked drawer, and stood up to greet Peter.

What Peter saw when he entered the room was a tall, impeccably groomed man in his late fifties. He was wearing a custom-made English suit, a handsome tie, and a shirt that had been made for him in Paris. Even his shoes were shined to perfection when he came around the desk to shake Peter's hand, seeming not to notice the garb Peter wore, which he wouldn't have deigned to wash his car with, and Peter knew it. Phillip Addison was so smooth, he was like a greased marble egg sliding across the floor. You could never get a grip on him, or get the goods on him. No one ever had. He was above suspicion. And it made Peter feel uneasy to find him so friendly. His mild threats about the money Peter owed when he called seemed to have been forgotten.

They chatted inanely for a while, and Phillip indulged him by asking what he had in mind. Peter told him the areas that were of interest. Marketing, finance, new investments, new divisions, new business, anything entrepreneurial that Addison thought would be suited to him. And then he sighed and looked at Phillip. It was time to be honest.