Chapter 2: The Man Who Lent Hope

Mr. Fox had a certain reputation on this street. He was the sort of man with “ability.” He was willing to help the poor, lending them money so they could get through hard times.

Of course, he was not purely charitable. He also needed the poor to repay his kindness with kindness of their own, sometimes in amounts larger than the principal.

But on the whole, he was a good man. Probably. Maybe. More or less.

In an underground office, William met Mr. Fox, a gentleman who looked somewhere around thirty-six, perhaps closer to forty.

He wore this year’s most fashionable dark-gray suit with red and blue flecks, with a red-and-blue silk scarf tied at his collar. It was not quite formal, but it was elegant.

Before William arrived, Mr. Fox had already heard from his men that there was something odd about this kid, including what he had said earlier. That had made him curious.

“You’re not afraid of me?” He had his men press William down into the chair across from his desk. “There aren’t many people on this street who aren’t afraid of me.”

William showed no fear at all. As far as he was concerned, a scene like this barely counted as trouble. He shrugged and asked in return, “Mr. Fox, are you going to hurt me?”

That question brought Mr. Fox up short. He thought about it seriously for a moment, then shook his head. “I generally don’t go out of my way to hurt anyone. But if you do something unfriendly first...”

For anyone, hurting people for no reason was a stupid thing to do. First, it damaged one’s image. Second, pointless behavior like that had a way of attracting the FBI’s attention.

Most people were looking for money, not trouble. Mr. Fox was no different.

“Exactly. Then why should I be afraid?” William’s composure and smile made Mr. Fox hesitate for one brief instant.

He glanced at the assistant beside him, then turned his eyes back to William’s face. “But my men say you’ve been watching me for the past few days. Maybe you can tell me why. Are you with the FBI?”

Before bringing him here, they had already searched William. There was nothing on him that proved his identity, and judging by the clothes he wore, he did not fit the style of those FBI people at all. Mr. Fox did not think he was a special agent.

That was precisely what made him curious. Over the past few days, this kid had been watching one of his businesses, the laundromat. He had also looked into the kid’s background. Out of curiosity, and caution, this little meeting had come about.