Carlos twisted one of his rings around his finger as he waited for the knock on the door. He eyed the two chairs in the dingy little office, but decided they were both too dirty to sit on. It wouldn’t do to stain his expensively-tailored pants. Finally the knock came, and Carlos unlocked the door to admit the man he had been waiting for. The man at the door was a skinny fellow with dirty clothes and long hair. He had a crown tattooed on his neck. Carlos waved him into the room and backed away, staring at him for a minute or two.
“So, did you find a suitable patsy?” Carlos asked.
“Yeah. Guy named Jeff Simms. He has a bad back and the doctor won’t give him any more Oxycodone pills. I kindly arranged to sell him some of our best smack for a real low price. Gimme a couple of weeks and he’ll do anything we ask him to do.”
“Good. What’s his role with the company?”
“He’s some kind of battery expert. I don’t know much more than that. But I seen him goin’ to work every day at the Orca plant.”
“All right. That’s good enough. Keep feeding him the drugs, but drop hints about us maybe having supply problems in the future. When the time’s right, I’ll contact you and his fix will suddenly get very expensive, unless he’s willing to do us a little favor.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Oh. . . sorry. I mean– Your Majesty.”
“Better. Now get out of here.”
Carlos gave his contact a few minutes to clear the area, then he left the building. Two bodyguards appeared from the shadows and one locked the door behind him. A long limousine pulled around the corner and all three men got into the back. Once he was settled, Carlos spoke to the driver.
“Take me back to the Astoria. I have some more planning to do.”