Mister Sarkozy


adam_icon.gif donovan_icon.gif

Scene Title Mister Sarkozy
Synopsis Under another assumed name, Adam Monroe attempts to deliver falsified damning information about Linderman to put Donovan on his trail as a part of some grander scheme…
Date February 10, 2010

Lower East Side

Meetings like this are the thing of commonplace happenstance in fiction, the smoky lounge where back-room deals are struck, dim lighting and double-speak. In reality they're far less likely to happen, far less overt and far less simple to arrange. Just saying someone has valuable information begins the ferret up the chain of command. First to members of the campaign office, then campaign managers, then advisors, until finally whoever has something valuable enough to sell to the right bidder finally get the attention of the man in charge.

"Get in." The back door of a black sedan opens sharply, followed by gently guiding nudge of a burly bodyguard urging a somewhat more lanky blonde man into the backseat of the car. The bodyguard slides in as well, slamming the door shut behind himself as the doors on both side automatically lock.

Situated in the driver's seat, a man in a dark suit does his best to seem like he's staying out of the conversation, while the bald-headed man wearing dark sunglasses in the middle of the night in the passenger's seat turns sidelong, looking to the blonde Brit that was squeezed into the car. "Alright you have exactly one minute to explain to me why I shouldn't have Barry there throw you out the other side've this car."

He said he wasn't going to play dirty, but the results at the polls are making it increasingly hard not to. "Someone in my campaign says you have some dirt on Linderman, cough it up and let me know what your price is, before I kick you outta' this car. I am not in the mood to be screwing around." Marcus Donovan was a man with principals, a man who felt himself above this sort've dealing. Of course now, faced with mud-slinging on all sides, compromise seems like less and less of a dirty word.

Adam takes some of the minute to adjust his clothes carefully before leaning back in the seat. He speaks in a french accent, but one that's long since been away from the mother country, as if he's been in America or at least English speaking countries for some time. He glances across towards Donovan and says, "Well, I'm not sure he could, but even so. I am here to deliver you Linderman, assuming your are not, as they say, his man." his lips purse, "I gave pause at the news, but have hoped it was more rumor than truth, because I cannot trust this information if it will only get back to the man himself."

There's a scowl on Donovan's lips as he fires a side-long look to Adam. "Look— Mister Sarkozy— " two fingers point at the blonde, "if there's anyone in New York City who wants Linderman buried more than anyone else, it's me. It's been my goddamned task to see that son of a bitch pushed out of my home, and I am not going to let some bullshit story swimming through the press drag me down."

There's a suggestion of blue behind the lenses of Donovan's sunglasses, a colored reflection off of the inside of of them. "You're not the first person to come up in here and say they've got a magical solution to all my problems. Nine outta' ten times, anything that seems too good to be true, is. So why don't you tell me what it is you've got on Linderman, and what you think you expect to get by offering it to me, and then we'll talk. Because if you though, for one minute, that I was going to turn this shit around to him, you wouldn't have spent so long climbing up my pantleg to get to me."

Adam spreads his hands, "The news paper only came out recently." he pauses, "I worked for Mr. Linderman. I emphasize the past tense. The truth of the matter is, I want to disappear from his purview, a court case or whatever it is you might plan to do will certainly give me time to leave his thoughts." he pauses, studying Donovan and then pulls out a folder from inside his jacket. It is curved from resting against his body. "You might say that I took some office supplies on my way out, non?" he chuckles a moment and hands over the folder, "You might notice the large amounts of money that have been moved in here, unaccounted for to the IRS and occasionally making their way into the pockets of people who should not have it." he smiles wryly, "It might lack the excitement of a dead prostitute, but Al Capone was taken down for tax evasion, not racketeering, non?"

When Donovan takes the folder, he hands it off to his driver who lays it down in his lap. Little scrutiny is afforded to it — at least right now. "Alright, tit for tat, you want me to put the DA's nose so far up Linderman's ass that he forgets about you for a little while. Okay, I can understand that. However, a paper trail only gets me so far with that, and right now I have a warm body in the back seat of my car with a lot more information maybe hiding in his head. If you had the opportunity to testify against Linderman in front of a grand jusy, would you?"

There's a rise of Donovan's brows as he shifts his weight in the front seat. "Because the way I'm looking at it right now, if these papers you've got are worth as much as the paper they're written on, then we might be able to drag Danny down for hard time for good. So that'd solve your little nose problem."

Adam purses his lips for a moment. He looks thoughtful, "I think you'll find Monsieur Linderman to have great reach." he looks out the window for a moment, then back towards Donovan, "I wish to see Linderman in great peril, but not at the expense of my life. If you can guarantee that this will not be an exercise in futility." he says, "That you can keep his people out of it and protect me.." he pauses, "And…grant me, how you say, full immunity? Then I will testify. But only after you can guarantee me such assurances."

"The DA can cover your ass legally if you're willing to testify. In so much as physical protection, I'd want to say the NYPd, but I know he's got people on the inside there. I could pay for a few private security friends of mine to keep an eye on you, there's some boys that owe me a real favor from back in the day, and one've 'em's got something special in common with me, so that might not be such a bad idea." Donovan glances over ot that folder in his driver's lap again, then looks back to Adam.

"So all you want is to see Linderman fall down? You know for all I like to talk about seeing the good in everybody, I dunno— when I'm actually presented with somethin' like this it almost seems too good to be true, y'know?" Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Donovan angles his head to the side. "So I take these papers back, get a look at them, send them off to the DA and he covers your ass… you know maybe we could take Danny down. I dunno— " Donovan scratches at the back of his head, shifting in his seat again, "I dunno. This just seems— I dunno. Too easy? Maybe this city's making me too cynical."

Adam chuckles a bit at Donovan, as if he seems amused by him. "You think this is down to my kind nature? I will take such a compliment, but this is about saving myself. I need Linderman off of me. If he did not have reason to chase me, or if I still worked for him, I wouldn't be here. I"d have no reason. It just so happens, my private needs coincide with your need for…what would you call it, justice?" he chuckles. "I don't like Linderman, but I'm not here out of anything other than self preservation." he stops laughing, "His reach is long, as I said." he pauses, "To be honest, I don't think this will work…at least so as you see it. He will sacrifice people before he falls himself. You will cause him hassle, a headache, to lose some of his soldiers, but I think you will be dead before Linderman sees the inside of a jail." he pauses, "For me, that is enough. For you, I would temper my expectations."

Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Donovan narrows his eyes and glances to his driver,t hen back to Adam. "Mister Sarkozy, you don't know me nearly well enough. I ain't going down like Frankie Civella did, or the Chinese Mafia. Marcus Donovan's made of tougher stuff than most people realize, and you know— " he taps the frames of his glasses, "I can see trouble comin' a mile away." There's a smirk delivered with that comment.

"That number you gave my campaign advisor still work? If it does, you can expect a call from the DA's office within the week, provided these papers check out. If you're blowing smoke up my ass, Mister Sarkozy, or tryin' to make me look like an idiot? I'll let you know that Daniel Linderman's goon buddies'll be the last of your little worries." He's silent, just for a moment after that assertion.

"Now, unless there was anything else in your bag of tricks…" The doors to the back seat of the car unlock, "you can show yourself the door. Hopefully when you hear from me next, it's with a smile."

Adam considers Donovan quietly for a moment, then nods, "Of course. Then I hope to hear from you soon. Good luck on your election." he says before stepping out of the car. He adjusts his jacket and then walks off into the darkness of the night.

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