Plexus

By Nicholas Garbini, Hampton Lamoureux and Michael Williams

Eve’s genuine intention of helping her friend became a shockwave catalyst, but not the one she hoped for. Sworn against Sam as the horrid center of deepening conflict, the more Eve involves herself against him, the worse the turmoil spreads. She wants to stop the chaos, and a vital infamous diamond turns Eve further into a dangerous underground network. Unsure of who to trust, her entangled life becomes more than treacherous. It becomes a fight for survival.

COMPLIMENTARY audiobook with purchase of ebook or paperback, details in book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: May 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985757408

Book preview

Prologue

Chaos To Come

EVE GLARED across the table at the animal she abhorred.

I’m all in, Eve said factually. All in for the plan and, more importantly, all in for us. Eve faked another warm smile and wondered how many other women in the fanciful restaurant were doing the same that evening. Eve ventured that none of them were seated across from a murderer and were wagering with their own lives. Eve continued before Sam could open his dreadful mouth and verbalize his apparent relief. And to show you I’m not just using talk, I’ve hired a private investigator to help us find the buyer and what they do with it. She grabbed her glass and tactfully held it as a prop. He’ll ultimately be expendable, and maybe the buyer will, too. And I want to do it this time. Can’t let you have all the fun. Eve gestured toward him with her wine and a pointed finger. The investigator will cover our tracks and take all the dirty guesswork out of our hands so we can enjoy one another more. It’s working smarter, not harder, she emphasized and reached across the table with her free hand.

Sam was elated. His energy levels and passion for her were visibly spiked. Got you now, you bastard, Eve told herself. She felt like an actress as she professionally absorbed and reflected Sam’s elaborations of their love and future life throughout their dinner. Her mind transected away, however, and became vividly affixed to Vincent. Eve felt a magnetized sensation toward the debonair man, one that was far beyond anything she had ever felt. That feeling had become exponential in her current mayhem-filled situation. When Vincent could have bowed out or walled himself up, he embraced her against the insurmountable adversity that was Eve’s chaotic struggle.

Chapter 1

For A Friend

BEING A manager at a corporate business firm was multifaceted. The role of governing departmental efficiency meant having a large and continuous revolving plate, as well as commanding due respect of colleagues and clients. Eve knew this and was even more aware of the intrigue about this role being governed by her. A woman was not the typical gender for such a role, but she was excellent at her job. So much so that multiple other businesses and firms of different types tried to whisk her away or temporarily hire her for her skills. Eve had a non-compete clause in her contract though, and was well-rewarded for it. She mainly delved into different departments throughout the massive firms that contracted her to restructure the company umbrella of departments, titles, and purposes for each.

Eve would extend a branch and add personnel where more attention was needed here, restructure and downsize unnecessary pork there. Very rarely was she required to do the wretched personal firing of a rotten slacking apple. She would usually delegate this task unless the offending persons were of managerial rank. The end result of her tinkering was almost always increased efficiency for the firm and its inner workings. Eve kept a running ledger since she began many years ago and had calculated a rate of ninety-three percent of overall positive productivity after a one year follow-up. She thus commanded extreme respect for her profession and was given an immensely long leash by her superior. It was of no consequence when she did her official office hours, as Eve had made sure to specifically stipulate in her contract. To add to her sensational reputation and work ethic, Eve’s attendance for important meetings was flawless. If she needed an early, half, late, or even entire day off, there was no gruff.

When Eve did not take lunch and cleared her desk at midday on that serene early summer Tuesday, her assistant was not surprised when instructed to take messages for the rest of the day. Parked close to the entrance was Eve’s white, 1965 Chevrolet Stingray. The proximal parking space was another one of the few personal stipulations in her contract, and she was quickly cruising through the city as the wind blew her silken brown hair about. She had an errand to run, which she had previously decided would be to purchase a minimal yet formal flower arrangement in an expensive and tasteful vase. As she mindlessly weaved through traffic to the flower shop, Eve’s mind strayed to the genesis of the formality she was undertaking.

Within this city was a highly selective syndicate called Plexus. It was a middle-level racket organization of only extremely proficient people. The craft of the member was inconsequential, but the way they conducted their lives was paramount. To become a member was by invite only and required the complete vouch of a current member. This of course meant that if there was ever an issue with the newer member, the membership of whoever vouched for them would also be under scrutiny and in jeopardy. The membership of Plexus dealt with the buying and selling of goods and services only within Plexus. It was a civilized closed circuit among respectable and professional humans that enjoyed consuming furnishings that were not usually publicly available. Fine art was the staple within Plexus, but other rarities were also exchanged, such as jewelry, classic cars, original hand compositions of novels and classic musical pieces, consensual nightly companionship, as well as anything with enough scarcity and clout to raise an eyebrow. No good or service for sale within Plexus was allowed to be too big, which ensured that this underground group remained off the overwatch radar of law enforcement or any further investigative persons.

Plexus had two bookkeepers, or brokers. The necessity for two brokers was dual purpose: populousness and protection. The sheer number of members within the cityscape dictated that the list of members be divided between two, which also offered compartmentalization, or further personal protection from the other half of members. It was a checks and balances system that existed with Plexus.

Although members knew the identity of both brokers in case of emergencies, each broker would deal with their client list separately, and would never outwardly divulge the identity of members, to uphold Plexus protocol. Plexus meetings or auctions were scarce and were always dealt with immense caution of attendance and relied upon the utmost rectitude of those present. In the unfortunate event of a broker’s death, the late dealer’s client list would be temporarily sent to the other broker until a suitable replacement was established. The process of appointment was not instant, as the surviving broker had to vet the potential replacements tapped by the deceased dealer from a list that was within each’s private ledger. It was a procedure that could take months, for once a broker was established, they typically held the domain until death.

If the death of a broker did occur, it was also customary for members to visit the remaining broker to arrange a meeting and offer condolences, and it was regarded as a black flag if this did not occur. This ensured an official face-to-face meet between the unacquainted broker and member and ensured that current members were accounted for in membership and their continued participation. This was the current case with Eve. Her broker within Plexus, Irv Mooran, had recently passed in his sleep and it was time to meet the cohort, Mr. Clements.

These were the swirling yet clearly depicted thoughts that coursed through Eve’s mind as she arrived at the foreign, red brick fronted building. The interior was founded upon finely polished marble flooring and was clad with few but expensive furnishings. Eve absorbed the opulent details of the law office, with sparkles of light raining from the enormous chandeliers as she strode through the foyer. After a brief call from the lobby secretary, Eve was escorted up a Spartan staircase to a closed door upon which a golden plaque was labeled: Francis Clements, Attorney at Law. The secretary rapped a double knock upon the mahogany-polished wood, which quickly summoned a voice within. Please, come in.

As Eve entered, she took in the appearance of the reputable figure for the first time. She was met with a wonderful golden and wrinkled face behind smart brown, thick-framed glasses. The man’s welcoming smile was accented by a standard white silk shirt and a deep grey, single-breasted suit. His steps quickly covered the ground from behind his desk to where she stood in the entry.

Ms. Rothmore. Thank you very much for coming, and precisely on time. His handshake was as comfortable as his smile. Please, he said, gesturing toward a chair directly in front of the large, dark desk. Eve placed her simply wrapped gift on the desk as she took the low-backed yet extremely comfortable wine leather chair. Quite an honor to meet you in person, and thank you for the gift. He was halfway through opening the gift by the time Eve completely settled and was able to take in the professionally furnished room. He made a barely audible whistle as he held it up to the light. It was a small, glass-blown flower arrangement of lilies and daffodils that shone elegantly in the afternoon light.

Eve had been unimpressed by the premade flower assemblies during her errand and was thankful she had ordered this specific arrangement ahead of time. She knew the significance of these two flowers in these two colors would not be lost on a renowned man and smirked as Francis quickly acknowledged the pair.

This is a fantastic piece. I greatly appreciate your condolences of the white lilies, and our new friendship of yellow daffodils. I shall keep it here on my desk corner, and I certainly won’t forget to water it. His smile curled at the edges.

As he lit a cigarette Eve noticed other trinkets briefly scattered about the office. They were minor, yet certainly did not fit into his precise décor. They were clearly other gifts of Plexus members that had followed protocol. As she was observing, Francis was doing the same, but of her. She was a woman of middle height who wore a marvelous orchid-colored professional jacket above a matching skirt, accented by a violet ascot that was tied just so around her slender neck. Eve’s satin brown hair was spun up with a silver curled slip in a complementing fashion to her daytime professional attire. Her mannerisms and dress were expert thus far and were accompanied by astonishing beauty. Her hazel eyes glowed above high cheekbones with a faint nose atop delicate lips and a model slanted jaw. Her suit was tailored to moderately accentuate her curves and slim waist.

Thank you for seeing me today. And please, call me Eve.

He swiftly and simply replied, Francis, as he gave a respectful and slow head nod. She realized that this man was succinct and decided to not belabor any excessive pleasantry.

I offer my complete condolences to you and want to thank you for acquiring me through this upcoming intermittent time. I was very saddened to hear about Irv. He was a man I held utmost respect for. I heard you two were quite close.

Likewise, and thank you for your condolences, he breathed through an exhale with another exaggerated head nod. He was using every opportunity to offer his respects toward her, and without wasting any unnecessary words or time. Eve guessed that Francis might be searching for any nucleus beyond the courtesy protocol.

It was an edict of mine to ensure that my book with Irv was always correct, accounted for, and level.

With a perfect record, no less. He did not even glance at the singular manila folder that was at the center of his leatherbound desk. Albeit no sales, but every acquisition rested with a nil balance by the end of twenty-four hours. A full twenty-four hours ahead of our standard timing, as you know. A wonderful record and reputation, which has been noted and has greatly increased trust.

Eve could not help her blush or smile. Well, I was taught to buy only what I can afford.

A tremendous trait that has clearly paid off. But to answer officially, yes. You are correct and your file shows nothing outstanding within Plexus. A small wisp of smoke emanated from his almost barren marble ashtray, which was immediately extinguished. And while these next words of mine may be superfluous, they are worth reiterating, considering the circumstance that I am now your broker, albeit temporarily. Plexus is an exclusive club of interconnected persons within this city that looks after the interests of each other and the interests of the city more broadly. That is why the enterprise exists. Members can supply services for one another, with tolerance to some illicit activity. All activities are largely kept quiet, however, so that we can continue unimpeded. Francis paused to wave his hand aside. It is my duty to remind you. Now, do you have any upcoming business or query for me to log?

His simplicity was blunt. No. Thank you. Eve picked up her matching handbag and slowly made her way to the door. Francis followed suit, again with quick steps until they met at his closed door. I do have one question, Eve said as she spun, and their gazes met. Unofficial . . . of course.

The receptive golden face immediately smirked with a slight cock of his head. Of course.

I don’t suppose you happen to know any eligible bachelors?

His smirk grew to a full smile with a slightly burrowed brow. I surely doubt you should have any difficulty in attaining any man you wish, Eve. He performed a ceremoniously brief and unobtrusive gesture by looking at her down-to-up and almost instantly met her eyes again. Certainly, from the looks of you, not to mention your clear intelligence and high functioning professionalism.

Eve reciprocated with a slight head nod. Thank you, but I was asking for my best friend, Faye. She has not had the best of luck and is my favorite person. A complete darling with a pure heart. It was a thought that occurred to me that someone familiar to you may be more of a gentleman compared to those that she has previously met.

Francis waited in silence as his eyes slightly narrowed, seemingly comprehending that she was asking for a man within Plexus. Certainly not my expertise, but it just so happens a gentleman was here earlier who said an offhand comment of sorts along your line. Of course, I cannot vouch for this man since I do not know him well enough, but he seems to have kept his things in order.

Eve knew that his response signified her request was admitted, and that this man had a clear docket within Plexus, which was a better reputation than any other man Faye had been with. That sounds wonderful, actually. Eve knew her request was not breaching protocol, as Faye was not a Plexus member, and this unknown man had also sought out a recommendation.

Francis stood for a moment as he glanced out the window to the distant swaying trees. They will of course have to meet on their own terms and without knowledge of our conversation.

Of course. Eve outstretched her hand.

Francis took it with his comforting grip. Okay, then. Certainly an unusual request, but since I have witnessed two persons within two hours hinting at the same objective, perhaps it is just that.

Eve replied through a smile, Thank you.

Francis nodded and opened the door, but subtly paused halfway. I cannot help myself from asking about you, my dear. You have no ring on your finger and could have well enough asked for yourself. Instead, you ask for your friend. Surely I would think your request would be more . . . personal.

Eve let out a short and genuine giggle. Among my morals that have delivered me to the present, is the principle to not mix certain aspects of my life. Good day, Francis.

Francis watched the remarkable woman quietly fade down the hall and closed his door. Half of his allotted lunch was over, to which the remainder required a phone call. He returned to his desk and directly dialed the memorized number, bypassing his secretary.

Mrs. Mooran, it’s Francis Clements following up with you.

An unnecessary gesture but thank you, Francis. And I told you to call me Arlene.

Apologies ma’am, it is a difficult habit to break. I wanted to thank you again for your call the other morning. I know it was not atop your personal priority list, but it was very appreciated. The passing of a giant is never easy, and it was of great assistance with dissemination.

Yes, I am not exactly sure why Irv wanted me to call you immediately in case of his death, but I have my suspicions. I know you two were military pals, and he was always excited when you came over.

To say the least, Arlene. Irv was a great man, and I never stopped working with his wonderful self since those military days. I know over the years your radar has picked up our extended partnership, as well as a vague idea of the organization we took up here. Irv was always grateful, and I, too, am indebted for your disinvolvement. Can I ask how he passed? I have heard things, but I would like to hear it directly if you are okay with that.

Arlene huffed into the phone. It was an anniversary night out. Cocktails, that ‘61 Jag XK-E of his, and a fanciful dinner in town. He made me feel two scores younger that night, and we turned up the heat after we returned home. I think it had been the first time since his operation. Anyway, the next morning I made my king his favorite breakfast and brought it to him in bed. He was limp and not breathing. I immediately reverted to the muscle memory of my former nursing years. My efforts did not revive him though, and I called that new 9-1-1 system I read about in the papers. They worked on him in the back of the ambulance for some time . . . Arlene’s voice was now severely trembling, but the hospital pronounced him upon arrival. She could hold back no longer and burst into sobs.

As Francis waited for her clamor to subside, he had to wipe his own eyes several times. Arlene, I will be personally delivering a package to you later today. It is one that Irv prepared for you, and with some sprinkling from me. I will see you later, and again I offer my condolences.

Chapter 2

Power Of Suggestion

IT WAS a spring night, but was one of those piquant evenings that suggested a cool midsummer evening. As if his skin could not differentiate between the humidity and sweat, Vincent was forming a slick layer of dew directly behind his shoulder blades. It clung to his freshly pressed ivory shirt as he casually walked toward Reductionelle, or simply the Elle. Vincent lived for the perfect mixture of hugging warmth and a caressing cool breeze. It was ecstasy to his entire being, and he smirked with only the slight disappointment he could not take full advantage of this weather beachside with a carafe of black Russian and a delectably roasted cigar.

That must be what retirement is like, Vincent concluded as he was thrust back into reality by the greeting of the professionally clad doorman. This was a necessary indoor evening though, one to be spent with a true friend at the most subtly exotic gentleman’s venue within the city. Tonight signified as much business and pleasure that could possibly mix within professional and friendly standards. It was Vincent who had arranged the meet anyway, and justly so.

As the unassuming outer door was held and the secondary opened, the fresh velvet rope was at once unhinged upon his recognition. Indeed, he was a frequent visitor, but not in the sense that spilt pockets, made noise, or grossed time chasing the talent on stage or behind the skirted black curtains in the corners. This was an exotic meeting place, and only a handful held the distinction of instant recognition, simply from poise, charisma, and a heavy tipping hand that did not stop with the double entry, servers, or stage. There was no need to stop at the bar, but only make eye contact with the tender and tip his hat to signify that Vincent’s ordinary first round was to be served immediately: a black Russian on the rocks. No lapping waves caressed off a tropical ocean breeze, but this environment was still atop his favorites.

Vincent made his way to the left corner booth. It was the