𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄. || 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘹 𝘰𝘤

𝟏𝟏 ➻ sunday speakeasy

♛ ┇ ▒ ⋅⋅⋅ Q. WHITAKER v. L. LITT'S TYRANNY ⋅⋅⋅ ▒ ┇♛

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍'𝐒 type of establishment - a charming speakeasy with glinting alcohol bottles, a well-polished poker table. Everything was bathed in a warm orange light, sending her two centuries back in time.

People sat with their coats laid over the barstools, well-dressed. Some of them were tourists, their reflections warped in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors behind the bar. The bartender was an elderly woman with an intelligent look in her eye and an agility to the way her fingers danced across the table.

She stopped pouring and glanced up at Quinn as she entered, shrugging her coat off and draping it over her forearm. "He's waiting for you."

A knobbly finger pointed towards a mahogany door with a golden plaque on it labeled Ratner's Booth. Quinn watched as the door behind her - which was actually a secret entrance disguised as a bookshelf - slid shut, effortlessly blending in with the antique wallpaper.

"Thanks." Quinn passed her a few bills of cash with an ounce of discretion before pushing the door open.

She'd read up on the history of this club. It had been active in the time of Prohibition, and was a popular spot for gangsters to host their "business" meetings. If she really tried, she could imagine herself as an overly wealthy old man with a plaid suit and massive golden rings.

She imagined she looked a lot like her step-dad's boss, even if the guy wasn't anything close to a gangster. Maybe she was finally becoming the Clemenza she was always meant to be.

Quinn absentmindedly fixed her collar as she walked through the door, finding herself in another room. This one was entirely devoid of life with the exception of Luderman himself, leaned over a pool table with his stick posed to strike.

"Little bit to the left," she advised. "You're off."

Luderman glanced up at her, before adjusting according to her suggestion and sliding the stick between his fingers. Quinn heard two dull thumps as each ball fell into its edge slot, and Luderman straightened out, leaning on his stick with a pleasantly surprised expression.

"You're here early."

She threw the envelope of money down on the green felt table. Luderman searched her face for any inkling of hesitation, found none, and then took the money. He traded it for a yellow manila folder, which Quinn snatched up with a wild look in her eyes.

She flipped the file open and withdrew two blueprints. Luderman let out a groan of irritation as she knocked his pool balls away and spread out the paper on the table.

"This is good," Quinn breathed, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, this is really good." She looked up at Luderman for a second. "How'd you get this?"

"Are you questioning my integrity?"

Quinn went silent and then looked back down at the blueprints. "I'm not an expert, but... this looks a lot like the Walker Enterprises prototype." She let out a light chuckle, before folding everything up into the folder. "I've seen a lot of smoking guns in my lifetime, but this one's probably the best."

"And the most boring," Luderman walked over and hung up his pool stick, swinging his head back to her. "Worth it?"

"Worth it," she confirmed.

"Good," Ben grinned. "Because we're not done yet. While I was investigating, I found something else." He pulled another folder out of his bag and splayed out ten or so papers on the table. He then produced a black thumb drive. "Walker Enterprises isn't the only tech company being screwed by Greenfield. These are financial records between Alex Greenfield and a third-party. The drive is surveillance footage of a Greenfield employee and this third-party in a document exchange."

Quinn rifled through the financial records, her eyes widening with each page. "Jesus. They're messing with Horizon Industries?"

"It sure seems that way." Luderman looked up at Quinn. "You might be a rookie, but I think you know where to go from here."

"Yeah, I'm on it." Quinn gathered up the files and shoved them in her purse. "Those records go back years. How hasn't anyone seen it?"

Luderman didn't respond, and Quinn immediately tensed up. "Luderman? I'm gonna ask again... how did you get these files?"

The detective looked her straight in the eye. "When you're up against a billionaire, their only weak spot is the man who handles their money. Or in this case... the woman." Luderman ran his hands through his hair. "She was cheating on him with one of his subordinates. Flash a couple photos and -"

"That's unlawful acquisition," Quinn interrupted with a wary expression on her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Please tell me you got the blueprints legally, at least."

"I did."

Quinn sighed. "Fine. Fine. Fine-fine-fine." She nodded to herself. "It'll work. We're going to settle, and we can use all this evidence to maximize the profit for Walker Enterprises. But if this goes to trial... we can't nail them for corporate espionage. This shit's inadmissible six ways from Sunday."

Ben shrugged. "You asked for gravy. I gave you gravy."

"You did," admitted Quinn. "Just... one more thing. The third party - who are they?"

Luderman scratched his stubbled chin. "Not too sure as of yet. I'll let you know when I get an inkling."

"I gotta get back, then. If Louis assigns another associate to this case, I'm dead in the water with a whole boatload of smoking guns."

Ben nodded to her. "That's too bad. Agatha whips up a mean mocktail." As Quinn headed for the door, Ben held out a hand. "One more thing, kid."

She spun back. "Yeah?"

"The best lawyers have their own personal investigators. Harvey's got Vanessa, Jessica Pearson's got Carter, Louis has... well, we don't really talk about his PI."

"Yes."

"Didn't even wait for me to ask, hah," Luderman tilted his head back, his brows arching. "I thought my price might intimidate you."

"If your work is always as good as this," Quinn raised the folder and shook it slightly. "I'll pay you double."

"You've gotta be the least flamboyant rich kid I've ever met, Whitaker. I've seen the car you drive. That thing is falling apart."

"I wasn't raised rich," Quinn admitted, putting away the file with a faraway look in her eyes. "My parents were frugal, and so am I. But I'm not afraid to put my money where my mouth is."

"Good." Luderman took long strides towards her, holding out his hand. "Guess I was right. You are exactly who I want to work with."

Quinn shook his hand with a smile. "You're not too shabby, either, old man."

Luderman's hearty laugh followed her out of the room. As soon as she exited the bar from its discreet alleyway entrance, her phone rang in beeps of three.

She saw the contact name and picked up with a groan. "Mike, what now?"

"Quinn, I need your help."

"I'm sorry, Mike, but I don't have time to teach you how to fill out another piece of paperwork-"

"Trevor broke into my apartment. He... fuck, Quinn. I need you here. Right now."

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Not feeling so hot.

Might be a while until
next update.

Let me know if there's
something you guys
want to see in the
story.