Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Miracle Job │ Part 2

Leverage Conference Room

Hardison fiddled with his laptop, his eyes scanning through the data he'd gathered. He looked up, meeting the team's gaze. "When I ran a trace on the gangbanger's call, it routed through this dude's number from a payphone."

Eliot, who had been leaning against the wall, let out a frustrated sigh. "So we got nothing."

Hardison waved him off, not done yet. "Hold on. Hold on. The payphone is located here—The Residences at 8th. Luxury condos brought to you by Andrew Grant."

Sophie, who had been quietly sipping her tea, perked up at the mention of the name. "Yeah, I know this guy. He built the Meadow Mall on the west side. You know, the one with the monorail?"

Nate leaned forward, his voice low and calculating. "Now, this guy doesn't happen to own any of the shell companies that bought the church, does he?"

Hardison scratched his chin, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Well, I—I can't prove that, but let's just say those shell companies have their daddy's lyin' eyes."

I crossed my arms, my gaze fixed on Hardison. "Alright, what do we know about this Grant guy?"

Hardison didn't hesitate. "The man's a media whore. He went through like nine publicists last year alone." He tapped the screen, and a picture of a sleek, modern building appeared. "He's cutting the ribbon on this place tomorrow. Also, fun fact: Grant survived a helicopter crash last year. Checked out his pharmacy account—man pops anti-anxiety pills like Pez."

Nate hummed, his mind already ticking through possibilities. "Well, publicists are like priests. You got to tell them all your secrets. So that's our way in. The question is, how?"

Sophie looked at Nate, waiting for him to say the words. "What are you thinking?"

Nate's expression hardened. "This guy beat up a priest, we're not going easy on him."

<>

The Setup at the Construction Site

The sound of hammering echoed throughout the bustling construction site, a mix of workers hustling and the clanging of tools. But amidst all the noise, one voice stood out, rising in irritation.

Grant stood in the middle of it all, staring furiously at Tomas, his eyes narrowed with frustration. "I got a dozen reporters waiting for me downstairs, and the backdrop for my ribbon cutting is scaffolding?!" His voice was a sharp whip crack, the annoyance practically vibrating in the air.

Tomas, standing a few feet away, shifted nervously. "It was a miscommunication," he mumbled, trying to deflect the blame.

Grant glared at him. "Isn't that what I pay you for, Tomas? To communicate? Stop screwing up!"

As Grant's temper flared, a calm voice cut through the tension. Sophie stepped forward, a small smile on her face as she held up her recorder. "Mr. Grant? Kristi Connelly. I'm a reporter with The Ledger. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"

Grant didn't even look at her, his focus on the chaos around him. "Miss Connelly, I don't know how you got up here, but the press conference is down in the lobby. It starts in ten minutes."

Sophie didn't back down, her tone smooth as ever. "No, no, I understand. I just wondered if I could have a moment—"

Before she could finish, Grant snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "Where's the foreman?!"

Sophie, without missing a beat, leaned in closer. "Of your time," she added, her smile widening just a bit.

At the same moment, through her earpiece, Sophie spoke into her comms: "Willy Wonka's here."