Paul chuckled about Kat's comment about inheritances, adding with a smirk, "My father has a couple of grand in Treasury Bonds, a handful of Krugerrands he bought while living in Cape Town, and a Classic T-Bird that has been under a tarp since before I entered primary school ... and while I will someday inherit [i]all[/i] of it, I don't think that puts me in a class with these guys."

He was once again delighted when Kat agreed to going out with him.  He watched the beauty as she dealt with some benefit issues before returning to once engage visit with him.  They spent almost two hours mingling with the [i]mucky mucks[/i], which was of great benefit to Paul: he was able to meet and speak with three of his targets face-to-face; he learned some vital details that hadn't been available to him from paper and online sources; and -- more personally satisfying with every minute -- he got to spend much of the evening, save the occasional interruptions, with a beautiful, intelligent, stunning woman.

Kat was again pulled away to supervise some of the more official events of the evening, including some speeches, the auction, and more.  Paul spent the time mingling, feigning more interview work, and piecing together in the back of his mind how he was going to get to some of the more protected Syndicate members.  Of his 14 primary targets, Paul knew he could get to more than half of them easily enough and most of the rest with some good planning.  The biggest problem he faced, beyond not yet knowing enough about his target's personal habits and schedules, was timing: once he'd started knocking off targets and it was realized that the Syndicate itself was the target, not the individuals [i]as[/i] individuals, those still alive would increase their security ten fold, maybe even disappear from the public eye.  

That was why Paul needed Kat.  Once the others went underground, he would need someone on the inside who -- willingly or incidentally -- might be able to lead him to the missing targets.  

Paul was in no hurry to begin.  The Syndicate had been around more than a century.  They would still be around tomorrow.  As he watched Kat functioning so comfortably within the crowd, he contemplated spending a little [i]personal time[/i] with the beauty before dropping his first man. A little pleasure before and then [i]during[/i] business.  He could hold off his bosses for a little--

Then, Paul's schedule suddenly took a big jump forward.  Kat's movement through the crowd had taken her from his view, so he went back to watching the Syndicate targets who were here tonight ... and spotted Carlton James.  The CEO of one of Boston's most powerful real estate corporations was on the list of most difficult to get, so when Paul caught sight of the man talking intimately with a young beauty who was [i]not[/i] his wife, just before excusing his security and slipping out of the ballroom toward the hotel's elevators, Paul simply couldn't pass up the opportunity...

[b]The Next Morning:[/b]

The early morning news was short of details on the overnight death of Carlton James.  Because of his status in Boston, the Chief of Police -- under direction by the Mayor -- was refusing to release much information.  But sources close to the investigation -- who preferred to remain anonymous -- were claiming that the 55 year old had been the victim of a murder-suicide involving a bottle of poisoned wine and a young woman who was [i]not[/i] his wife.  

Paul felt bad about having walked out on Kat without a word, so he had a dozen long stem roses sent to her office.  She had told him earlier about a meeting she had the next day, so he waited to call her cell phone until he knew she wouldn't answer.  He left his message: "I can't apologize enough for simply disappearing last evening.  I was called away to meet with a one of the contributor's to [i]Camp New Hope.[/i]  Please forgive me."

[i]Camp New Hope[/i] was Boston's largest homeless-relief program.  Paul was hoping that referencing the project might get him out of any hot water into which his disappearance had gotten him.  Adding to that hope, he finished his message with, "In fact, the man I met ... I told him that I'd abandoned the most beautiful woman in Greater Boston to meet with him ... so ... to make amends ... look down inside the bouquet.  And ... I'll call you later to make those dinner plans ... presuming we're still on."

Paul pocketed his cell and sat back to watch the midday light shifting across the city below his apartment windows.  He smiled, contemplating the cashiers check for $100,000, made out to Kat Malloy with the footnote [i]For the greater good of Greater Boston[/i].  The money was, of course, Paul's.  And while he wasn't looking for the attention or tax write off that some of Kat's other contributors were after, Paul wasn't concerned about the amount.  After all, his evening with Kat had made the million dollar kill possible; and the amount he'd given to her was only a fraction of that.