She sat down on the bed and took a careful breath. After two years of silence, it felt odd to be spilling everything.
“Variable has been in this business for a long time. Somehow, he’s worked his way up. When he started, he was a seventeen year old kid starting organized fights behind the bars in town. That was eleven years ago. Now he’s in charge of the New Orleans underground fighting scene. He has people that he reports to. He calls them his ‘investors’. But they’re really his superiors. A lot of them are Mafia, some of them are just enterprising individuals who like to watch the fights.”
As Max spoke, William leaned forward with a tape-recorder in hand.
“Most of the time, Variable does things called ‘events’. He sets up a warehouse, contacts some fighters, and they fight. Word gets around pretty fast. People come, pay a hundred dollars a ticket, and they get to watch the fights. The big money comes from betting. But you all probably knew that,” she said wryly.
“We knew about the events. We have an agent undercover. But we need to know what you know,” he said.
“Ah, that’s right. Because of Ro- … Lowry,” she said quietly.
She shook it off after a moment.
“Anyway, one of Variable’s investors has gotten such a taste for the underground fighting that they want a big thing. Big. So they’re organizing the event. Variable calls it ‘The Tournament’. Variable’s reach extends beyond New Orleans, so he can call them in fighters from other states as well.”
“To your knowledge, is he organizing all of this single-handedly?” William interrupted.
“No. Variable is in charge of the fighters. The ‘investor’ is setting up the rest of it. It’s a big deal for everyone involved,” Max paused as she took a drink from the bottle of water she’d filled from the sink.
“Because the investor is so smitten with the idea of underground fighters, they want to meet them. The semi-finalists all meet with the investor, his guests, and have dinner with them,” Max said.
She could see the wheels turning in William’s brain.
If they raided the tournament and got the investors there, they could go to jail just for that. But if Max could get them on tape, describing how excited they were about supporting such a tournament, it would be a hell of a gem to give to the DA when they prosecuted.
“But you can’t guarantee that you’ll make it to the semi-finals,” William said.
Max scoffed at him.
“I’ll make it to the semi-finals. Don’t you worry about that,” she murmured.
“The final match is when you want to go in. The first round and semi-finals are on the first of two days of the tournament. Everyone will be so focused on the final match on the second day that it’ll give you the best element of surprise. And the most evidence,” Max said.
He nodded and thought about it.
“Okay,” he said.
“When can I leave? I need to get home,” Max said.
He nodded, stood and headed to the door, seemingly urgent.
“William,” she said softly.
He stopped, turned and faced her.
She hesitated before she spoke.
“My mother … she isn't well. Since my father disappeared, she can't function,” she said carefully.
