Imploded Lives

Chapter One – Paul Mason and Brian GallagherMarch 14, 2018 Twenty-Eight Days Before Brian Gallagher stood at the open door to Paul Mason's office looking around to assure that the lights in the surrounding offices had been turned off, and the occupants were no longer lingering. The building was dark and empty as far as the eye could see. He looked back at Paul and said, “So, are we going through with this?” “I'm not talking here. Let's go outside and take a walk.” The two men took the elevator down to the ground floor, staying silent throughout the ride. There was no one else in the elevator and very few people seemed to inhabit the building. They signed out at the guard desk and slid their personal access cards through the reader at 9:20 p.m. They walked outside to the street to find that the almost perpetual Los Angeles rush hour was slowing and the traffic was about as light as it was going to get. There was a slight drizzle, noteworthy because any rain was rare in Los Angeles. As they walked down the street toward Mulligan's Brewery, Paul Mason ran a hand through his short black hair and said, “I don't know, man. It is a big risk.” Paul was six foot, two inches and slender, with the body of a rider in the Tour de France. He wore wire-rimmed glasses over penetrating blue eyes. Brian was two inches shorter and muscular, his regular workouts keeping his body almost as fit as it had been when he played linebacker at Stanford. His brown hair was longer than Paul's, and matched a well-trimmed beard that showed little gray. Brian shook his head. “We've been planning this for three months. I thought you got past the hesitation.” Paul replied, “Yeah, but this is a big f*****g deal. This is not just career ending, it is prison time.” He shook his head. “And we agreed that unless we were all on board, we kill this plan, right?” “We did and I agree that we need to be fully committed. So if you're not, we need to walk away from this project now,” Brian said. “We've already put countless hours into this project and if we're still not committed, we never will be,” Brian added, sounding frustrated. Paul sat down on a bench outside the watering hole. “Look, we know that they will figure out what happened. That's a given. There will be some lag time before they catch on, but after that, they will start tracking everyone who could have pulled it off and I keep thinking that could somehow lead back to us. That's when I start thinking that maybe we should walk away.” Brian nodded. “I get it, man, I do. And at some point we might be among the suspects, but how do they get back to us? They won't be able to prove anything.” Paul shook his head. “I don't know. This is like betting your future at the crap table.” “Déjà vu. We have had this conversation. And if you want to, we walk away. But if not, let's commit. Role the bones, man.” “Don't you have any second thoughts? I mean, we both have kids under ten. Don't you get nervous that you just might leave Alison and the kids to do a long prison sentence? That's the part that unnerves me. I believe in what we are doing, but I don't want to leave Ann to spend time in a cage with nothing to do but replay my regrets.” “I get it,” Brian said. He smiled. “Like I said, we can walk if you want, Paul. I'm not in if you're not, so it all ends here if you choose. What keeps me in is the thought of what a couple of guys might be able to accomplish in terms of the immediate results, and the message we get to send. And if we do it right, maybe no one learns who sent the message. I just think…” At that moment, Brian's phone rang. He hit a button and said, “Brian Gallagher.” After a moment, Brian said, “Pretty timely call. I was just talking to Paul about the project.” He paused and then asked, “What's the news?” There were a few more moments of silence and then Brian said, “Okay. See you tomorrow night.” Paul said, “I take it he's in?” “Yep, he's in.” “I guess I'm not surprised,” Paul replied. “He's almost as outraged by all this as you are and he's single.” “And you're not as outraged as we are?” Brian asked. “Yeah, I am.” He thought for a moment and then added, “I'm just not convinced that three guys can fix this.” “We can't fix it, but that's not the plan. What we can do is send the message that they are vulnerable, too.” Paul furrowed his brow. “Do you ever have visions of the FBI surrounding your house and dragging you away in cuffs? Have you considered that part of the downside? I mean, if we get caught, we are totally f****d. We will likely know some of the people in on the arrest.” “Yeah, but it'll be a heck of a book when you get paroled.” He grinned and then added, “Of course, you won't be able to make any money on it because of the conviction, but we know a number of good causes ready for donations.” “Funny stuff,” Paul said, shaking his head. “And I guess I'll always have you to keep me amused.” “Exactly, but more importantly, we are not going to get caught. We have this honed to perfection, man. It's beautiful.” They stood up and walked into Mulligan's. They selected a twelve-dollar beer from one hundred and fifty on tap and then found a table in the back of the bar. They looked around at the tired figures in suits that populated the bar. Lawyers, politicians, lobbyists and investors, all capping the day at the watering hole. Some planned to persuade Congress to change laws for the benefit of corporate clients, while others worked on transactions to make them richer, while still others tried to find a way to escape a deal gone bad. There were big players here, but none of them dealing on the scale of what Paul and Brian were contemplating. There was an extended silence while they looked around at this world of behind the scenes business. After a time, Paul looked at Brian and said, “Okay, I'm in. Let's roll the bones, my friend.” Brian grinned and gave a satisfied nod. “I think we can make a difference.”