Chapter 18: A Closed Deal
The stillness that came over Max was a different kind from before. It wasn’t the calm of someone who was unimpressed. It was the stillness of someone who was suddenly deciding whether the person in front of them was an opportunity or a threat.
"Who told you about Amara," said Max. Very quiet. Very level.
"Nobody told me," said Sean. "I found it out."
"You’ve been investigating me," said Max.
"I’ve been preparing for this conversation," said Sean.
Max stared at him for three full seconds. Then he closed his laptops completely. Put them flat on the desk. Stood up from his chair.
He moved with a speed that Sean hadn’t expected and grabbed the front of Sean’s jacket with both hands. He wasn’t large but there was a quiet strength in his hands. He pushed Sean back against the bookshelf hard enough to make the books shift.
"If this is some kind of angle," said Max, low and intense. "If you’re using my sister to try and get something out of me. If this is some kind of sick joke. Tell me now before I make a decision I don’t regret."
His eyes were absolutely serious. There was nothing performative about this. He was genuinely ready to make a choice.
Sean looked at him calmly. "It’s not a joke," he said. "I’m trying to help you and I need help in return. That’s it. That’s the whole thing."
"You don’t know me," said Max.
"No," said Sean. "But I know your sister needs surgery and I know you’re the only one in your family trying to make it happen and I know it’s eating you alive that you can’t." He held Max’s gaze. "Let go of my jacket."
Max held on for another two seconds. Then he released him. Stepped back. Ran a hand over his face.
He sat back down in his chair heavily.
The library was completely silent around them. Nobody else on this floor to see any of this.
Sean straightened his jacket. Sat back down.
"What’s the job," said Max. His voice was different now. The hostility was still there but underneath it something more complicated had opened up.
"A real estate developer named Victor Hale," said Sean. "He has connections to city officials, local politicians, probably people higher up than that. He’s been operating for years and he’s very careful. Very clean on the surface." Sean paused. "I need everything underneath. Every piece of dirt he’s buried. Every crime he’s covered up. Every payment he’s made to people he shouldn’t have paid. Every secret he’s keeping that would cost him everything if it came out."
Max looked at him. "That’s not a small job."
"No," said Sean.
"That kind of deep background work could take weeks."
"You have two," said Sean.
Max raised an eyebrow. "Two weeks."
"I have a timeline," said Sean.
"People with timelines pay rush rates," said Max.
"What would you consider fair?" said Sean.
Max studied him for a moment. "This kind of work. Penetrating the kind of protected systems a well-connected developer would use. Corporate records. Banking. Communications. Email servers. Security footage. The kind of people who work for him." He paused. "For a two-week timeline with the depth you’re describing, I’d say sixty thousand dollars minimum."
He said it like he expected Sean to balk.
Sean pulled out his phone. "What’s your Cash App?"
Max blinked. "What?"
"Your Cash App. I’ll send you fifty thousand now. The other fifty when you deliver."
"I said sixty," said Max.
"I heard you," said Sean. "Fifty now, fifty on delivery. That’s one hundred total. Plus I’ll cover your sister’s hospital bills. All of them. Full surgical costs, recovery, aftercare. Whatever it takes."
The silence that followed was the loudest thing in the room.
Max looked at him with an expression that was very complicated. Like a man who had spent a long time carrying something alone and suddenly had someone offer to help and couldn’t decide if that was real or a setup.
"You can’t afford that," said Max quietly.
"I can," said Sean.
"You’re eighteen."
"Yeah," said Sean. "I’m also holding more money than you think. Give me your Cash App."
Max was quiet for another moment. Then he picked up his phone slowly. Opened the app. Held up the screen so Sean could see the username.
$MaxOsei2
Sean sent fifty thousand dollars.
[50,000 dollars sent]
[Balance: $983,480]
[100,000 dollars received]
[New Balance: $1,083,480]
Max’s phone buzzed in his hand. He looked at the screen. His expression didn’t change dramatically. But his breathing changed. A slight deepening. Like someone who had just been given something real and was trying to verify it.
"This is actually in my account," said Max. Quietly. More to himself than to Sean.
"Yeah," said Sean.
Max looked up at him. The sharp, careful eyes now had something else in them. Something that took Sean a moment to identify.
Hope. Reluctant. Guarded. But real.
"My sister’s hospital," said Max. "Eastgate Medical Center. She’s scheduled for a consultation about the surgery next Tuesday."
"I’ll have the billing department contacted before then," said Sean. "Full payment arranged. Whatever the surgical team needs."
Max was quiet for a long moment. He looked down at his phone. Then back at Sean.
"Victor Hale," said Max.
"Victor Hale," said Sean.
"Two weeks," said Max.
"Two weeks," said Sean.
Max picked up his phone and opened a new note. "Tell me everything you know about him. Every detail. Start from the beginning."
Sean sat forward. "Victor Hale. Real estate developer. Mid to late fifties. Operates primarily in this city but has connections that reach further. He has a company: Hale Property Group. On the surface it’s legitimate. But he’s been acquiring properties in underdeveloped areas of the city for years. Too many too fast. Too many of the sellers were pressured in ways that didn’t look like pressure on paper."
Max was already typing. Fast. Eyes focused.
