Philanthropy Pt. 05

Dawn laid her head back down on my chest. She was quiet for a long moment before she spoke. "I think I've known for a while now. A couple of years, easily. You steal a lot of money, don't you? But from the bad guys."

"Yes, I do."

"And you give some away?"

"Yes. About half. Maybe less." It was closer to maybe twenty percent, but who's counting? "It's actually hard to do. You just can't send a few million dollars to a charity. People look into that."

Dawn lowered her head and lapped at the remaining cum on my stomach. She popped my cock in her mouth and suctioned out what remained. My cock grew firmer. She kept sucking and enjoying herself. Soon I was hard again, and she keep sucking for a moment longer and then popped me free. She put her head back on my chest and stroked me gently, maintaining my erection.

I was finally able to speak again. "The end game? Any ideas?"

"Yeah. You're gonna milk the LTG for everything. Transfer everything to bitcoin and crypto currency. Squirrel it away. You're going to be the richest man in history."

"Nope."

Dawn lifted her head again and looked at me. "No? Then what?"

"My new company will be. And all my partners."

Dawn looked pensive and then her eyebrows shot up. "Do you mean me?"

I nodded and Dawn's face went white. She sat up and dropped my cock. Fuck, I thought, I need to time these things better. "And the others."

"You mean the team? From the company?"

"Yes. And Amanda. Shanti. Team Bulldog. We are all going to be partners. But it will need to be much bigger."

Dawn stared at me in disbelief. "No fucking way."

"Yup. You'll be a billionaire just like me. Maybe more."

Dawn was shaking. "That's crazy!"

"No, that's possible. Today the LTG, tomorrow the Russian mafia. Then the other cartels. We hit their corporations. Drain their bank accounts. Collapse their businesses. And then dig deeper. Find the hidden money."

Dawn now looked shocked. "That will fuck the world economy!"

"Yup. And destroy countless politicians. The corrupt ones, anyway."

"The world will collapse!"

"Nope. We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

"Bullshit. Crypto currency and bitcoins will collapse, too. You'll lose everything."

I chuckled. "You are underestimating the world. Food production, manufacturing, education, science, medicine, research, and development, all the bits that keep society functioning will still thrive. We'll make sure of that. Multilateralism is on its way and we'll form a global fraternity. We'll enforce global cooperation and establish economic stability.

"Global growth has stagnated for decades, worse now after COVID. The hard truth is that advanced countries are still struggling. The European debt crisis is stagnating what should have been a world power. Less than one percent of the world population owns almost all the wealth. That can't last. Low-income countries are too vulnerable to economic dislocation, including commodity pricing. The top world economists have been saying for years that these countries need the help of the international community. It has never come because the wealthy own the politicians. Own them lock-stock-and-barrel. We will expose that. Shame them. Tear them down. Allow democracies to put in place people of character. The world is fucked right now. We are going to tear it down and rebuild it."

"It will mean war on a global scale."

"Depends."

"Depends? On what?"

"What money can do to a soldier being asked to fight a war no one believes in."

Dawn shook her head. "You're naïve."

"Perhaps. The challenges are pressures sapping growth, instability of the global economy, and social tensions. The amount of debt in the world is staggering. And debt owed to so few. Wipe out that debt and you've the start of something wonderful. We tear down the banking institution, who are very much in cahoots with everything wrong in the world, and suddenly the world can breathe a little easier. A lot of the money we are going to take is going right there. We pay the debts and then tear down the banks. The added bonus is the core instability in our inter-connected world disappear. Gone are the ups-and-downs of countries struggling to compete globally. We have high unemployment worldwide, fiscal austerity, Wall Street over Main Street, and only the upper echelons of society reaping any benefit.

"We need a strategy. We need to repair, rebalance, reform, and rebuild. If we own the majority of the world wealth, we can do all those things. All from secrecy. We kill the world's dependency on the American dollar and the Chinese Yen. We replace it with a world currency. Something each country will have to work hard to support and bolster with incentives."

Dawn was sitting cross-legged beside me now and her pussy was wide open and looked so inviting to me. I licked my lips and tore my eyes back to her face. She looked worried.

"There is a lot of military stuff out there. Nukes. Countries won't take this lightly. They'll fight."

"What's the saying? Money makes the world go round? Imagine owning all the gold, precious metals, rare earth metals, oil, gas, fresh water? Power creation and distribution?"

"Impossible."

"You might think so. This will take years. We'll need a large worldwide team. Stick with me, Dawn. This can work. But it will take smart people. The right people."

Dawn flipped a leg over me and settled on my groin. Her pussy pressed up against my cock and her hips rubbed her pussy along its length. "Maybe. You have me so far. I'm in."

I moved my hips and my cock penetrated her and drove up deep into her pussy. "Me, too..."

Dawn spent the night. And the next one.

* * *

Sunday morning had me up early. I had found my stamina was starting to wane, and I needed to remedy that. I spoke to Brad about it and he agreed to go running with me. It was either that or use the treadmill which I hate.

Treadmills are boring as fuck. Outdoors you can watch the scenery, such as other cute women runners in spandex and sweating. Yup. Outdoors is the best. Even in winter. My first time running in winter had me freezing my balls and cock. When they thawed, I had to pull over and scream. But winter running is enjoyable. The snow crunches and your generated body heat cancels the cold—provided you dress warmly enough. I've run in minus fifteen Celsius weather before. I've tried colder, but that gets a little crazy.

I asked Brad to either run ahead or behind me. And a respectable distance. I need my privacy when I run. The river is right by my condo and the city has a well-maintained path that winds along the banks. Where I live west of the city there isn't a lot of bikes or other runners. This was part of my argument with Brad to let me go running.

We ran through the park and followed an access path to the running track, and I headed east toward the city. The other way gets boring fast, and I always avoided it. I found my groove, recognised I hadn't run in a long time and shortened my pace and stride length. My music played from my watch to my wireless ear buds and I was soon lost in the joy of running.

Running is personal. I've never liked the running clubs and the like. Running is not a team sport and I dislike those who try to make it one. I find my stride and clear my mind and simply run. My best insights into problems have come whilst running. It frees my subconscious up or something. Or maybe it just slows down my thoughts so I can make coherent decisions. Either way, as soon as I hit the trail, I realised I missed this very much.

The path meanders past some lovely parks and sightseeing locations in the city. Park benches line the trail in spots. Ducks can be seen swimming and sometimes the occasional loon. The city goes all out with flowers and plants and they keep it all very well maintained. I love Canada. We do everything so right. I've been to many places in the world and everywhere I've gone I've appreciated Canada all the more.

I don't think non-Canadians get what it is to Canadians to be Canadians. We aren't a flag waving people. We don't stand on soapboxes and decry the injustice in the world. I like to think we simply are so much more accepting of different cultures and beliefs. With exceptions of course. Canada has done some horrible things in our past. I guess all countries have their dark moments, and Canada is certainly not an exception. But you need to meet Canadians and talk to them to understand them. We really are a very polite people. And people say that like it's a bad thing. It's all about manners, and civility. The basis of any great country, in my opinion.

I was lost in my running and soon ate up ten kilometres. I checked my watch and saw it took me forty-two minutes. I was out of shape and resigned myself to doing this more often. I was approaching the Italian district of the city and decided to look back and see where Brad was when a spray of blood exploded out the back of his right shoulder. A second later I heard the rifle shot.

Brad tumbled to the ground and rolled down the embankment of the overpass he had just crossed. I crouched and ran at full speed. I heard another crack of a rifle and waited for the pain to strike me. When it didn't, I realised I was fine, and I also realised I would only hear the shot afterward.

Thankfully, Brad had only been about twenty yards behind me. I slid down the embankment and found Brad holding his shoulder with his left hand. A pistol was held loosely in his right.

"Peter? Are you alright?"

"Yes, obviously. Are you alright?"

"I will be. Take the pistol, hurry. And grab my phone."

I took the pistol and put it down beside me. His phone was strapped in a holder to his upper right arm. I was gentle as I could be, but I ended up moving his shoulder. I could hear the bones grinding.

"Shot. Dammit. Again." he grunted out the words in pain. Being shot really sucks. If you've ever watched a Hollywood movie where the dude gets shot and somehow keeps fighting, know this: it's bullshit. Getting shot sucks the life out of you. Your body just freaks out and shuts down.

Brad saw I had the phone. "Call Shanti. Now."

I held the phone up to Brad's face and unlocked it. I opened the phone app and found Shanti listed under Bulldog One. I pressed the contact and the phone started ringing. Shanti picked up in one.

"Bulldog One."

"Shanti? Thank God! It's Peter. Brad was just shot in the shoulder. He told me to call you."

"Where are you?"

"On a running trail."

"I know that dipshit, where on the running trail?"

I told her and the phone went silent for a moment.

"Shanti? Shanti! Are you there?"

"Yes, stop talking so loud. Calm down. Give me your situation."

I explained what had happened and how we were hiding behind an overpass embankment.

"Dammit," she said. I could hear the sound of a car engine revving really high. She was on the road and really booting it. "Are you armed?"

"Yeah, Brad's pistol."

"It should be a Sig Sauer, correct?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay, the safety is the first trigger pull. You'll need to really squeeze the trigger for the first shot. After that, it's easy. Understand?"

I did and said so. I was looking around the area, but my field of view was reduced behind the embankment and told her so.

"I understand, stay there, do not move. I will be there as soon as I can. Five minutes back. How's Brad?"

I looked him over. He was white as a sheet but breathing okay and he seemed alert. "He was shot in the upper right shoulder. It hit the bone. We need medical help ASAP."

"Look behind his shoulder."

I did and froze when I saw the damage. He was bleeding profusely. I put down the pistol and phone and ripped off my shirt and placed it over the crater of his back shoulder.

Brad's head lolled on his neck and his eyes rolled up. He went limp and I rolled him onto his front and pressed the shirt down hard with my right hand. I could hear Shanti speaking. I picked up the phone and fumbled with it with my left hand and managed to thumb the speaker button.

"Sorry, Shanti, you're on speaker. Brad passed out. His back... its bad. He's losing blood fast."

"Can you staunch the wound?"

"I already am. With my shirt."

"A technical shirt?"

"Yeah?"

"Damn, not the best choice. Press hard. Put the phone down and pick up the pistol. Keep a look out. Listen Peter, you are probably up against Carmen Rodriguez."

"The assassin? I thought you dealt with her on the highway?"

"She escaped. Don't know how she survived that roll, but she did. She's really good, Peter. She'll be moving on your location very soon. She's been watching first. She'll be assuming Brad is good enough to fight and she'll be cautious. She'll be on you before I can get there, do you understand?"

"I do. I'm on my own, right?"

"Exactly. Keep the phone on, don't hang up. Keep looking around. The ambulance should be on the way but when she hears the siren, she'll move quickly."

On cue, in the distance was the wail of an ambulance. I looked up and saw a figure look out from under the overpass. The trail I was running on loops back and crosses here. The figure was likely this Carmen bitch. I raised my pistol toward her, and she ducked back.

I was a sitting duck. I looked at Brad and decided. I was on my feet and running at my best speed. I ran up the embankment and hit the trail and sprinted. I recalled the television animation Archer and considered a serpentine manoeuvre and instead ran behind a tree and kept it between me and the overpass. I kept running and found an outdoor public bathroom and changing facility. I ran straight into the woman's bathroom.

It was empty and I picked the middle stall, ran in, closed the door, and stood on the toilet seat.

I had the pistol but had left the phone behind. Dammit. My smart watch was an older model without cell phone capability. I tried to calm my breathing. It was overly loud in my ears. I strained to listen to the door to the bathroom.

I heard nothing and slowly my breathing slowed down.

The door to my bathroom stall sprang open toward me and I had a moment to see a woman standing there with a pistol in her hand. She was pointing it at me, and she stepped forward. I kicked the door closed and it caught her wrist and her pistol dropped from her hand.

The door was shouldered back open and I raised the pistol but suddenly it was knocked free and fell to the floor with a clatter.

I had been sorely beat up, shot, tortured, chased down a highway, and then chased into this bathroom due to people like this woman. At every point I had been reduced to suffering and finding myself being unable to defend myself. The woman in the stall entrance looked normal enough. She certainly looked Spanish. Her hair looked odd to me. But it was her grin that pissed me off. It was the smug grin of someone who was about to finish what they had set out to do. This was fun for her. She liked the chase. The hunt. Probably why she took out Brad first. I was her prey.

I leapt from the toilet and tackled her. Not my best move, but it startled her, and I found myself lying on top of her on the bathroom floor. In a public washroom. Very unhygienic. She did something similar to what Shanti had done to me in the gym and I found myself being flipped onto my back. I knew this move and countered by keeping the momentum going. We rolled across the floor picking up who knows how much girl cooties.

I found myself on top again and head butted her hard. Her head snapped back, and I pulled back and punched her in the face. She twisted her head and my punch glanced off.

She pushed me and I fell back and scrambled to my feet. So did she and we stared at one another for a long second, sizing each other up. She had the same smug look on her face, and I decided to try to punch it off. I have studied a variety of martial arts. I used to consider myself fairly competent until Shanti beat my ass. I was determined not to lose this fight. Probably because losing meant I would die.

We fought. She was trained, too. And soon I realised that she was much better than me. I found myself becoming more and more defensive and it was all I could do to hold her off. I tried a few tricks, and nothing worked. I was tiring, and she looked fresh as a daisy. I started to back toward the exit. My only hope was to escape. She smirked at me and I made my move. I ran at the door and got my hand on the handle. I wrenched it open and Shanti spilled in. We tangled and I heard the clatter of something metallic hitting the ground.

I felt a hand grasp my hair and pull me upright. Carmen was about to finish me. I struggled and then fell when Shanti swept the feet out from under the bitch. I hit the ground and backed away on my ass.

Shanti rose and faced Carmen.

"So, you're Carmen Rodriguez."

"Shanti Patel. What a privilege."

Shanti was a blur of motion and Carmen blocked. I could now see that Carmen had been toying with me. And so had Shanti that day in the ring. They fought better than anyone I had ever seen. This was real fighting. Not sparring with padded martial art gear during bouts with rules against biting, scratching and below the waist shots. This was violent and quick.

Shanti was winning, but only barely. Suddenly a knife appeared in Carmen's hand and the fight balance shifted. There was a blur of glinting steel and suddenly the blade was wet with blood and Shanti was holding her chest. I didn't see what had happened, but Shanti staggered back and fell to her ass.

Carmen slowly straightened. "And that, Shanti Patel is why I am the..."

My first shot took her high and hit her shoulder. Blood sprayed out behind her and painted the wall of the bathroom. I had been aiming at her chest, but the Sig Sauer did require more pressure to shoot the first shot. Carmen staggered backward, a look of surprise and shock on her face. She looked right at me when my second shot hit her centre of mass. She dropped like a stone. I stood up and walked over to her and looked down. She was gasping for air and looking up at me.

I aimed and put one round in her skull. Double tap, just like Shanti always did.

Shanti.

I dropped the pistol and went to Shanti. She was lying on her back and holding her right chest just under her breast. She was having problems breathing. Bright red blood flecked her mouth. I looked around the bathroom and saw the sanitary napkin dispenser and ripped it off the wall. I tore the machine open and pulled out napkins. I ripped one open with my teeth, pulled up Shanti's shirt, and placed the plastic wrapper over the puncture wound and held her hand up to it until she took the pressure.

I rolled Shanti over to her right side. And then searched her for a phone.

"Shanti, where is your phone?"

"A... ass."

"I'm not an ass. Where is your fucking phone?"

"A... ass pocket..."

"Ah, got it."

It wouldn't unlock so I held it to her face and when it opened, I dialled 911. I explained we were down the path from the gunshot victim and in the bathroom. I put the phone on speaker and put it down and checked on Shanti.

I looked down at Shanti and tried to smile. "You gonna be okay?"

She nodded. She looked a little blueish to me.

"You were holding back when you fought me," I said.

She tried to smile but it faltered.

"You saved my life."

She nodded.

"I'm really glad the knife missed the important bits."

Shanti tried to laugh but ended up coughing, and a large volume of blood poured out of her mouth.

"Jesus, Shanti."

She closed her eyes and then tried to speak to me. I leaned down and tried to make out the words, but her voice was too weak.

"Shanti, tell me when you're better, okay? Come back to me. I need you. I miss you. Enough of this six-month bullshit. Let's reset the clock. Six months again starting now. Shanti? Shanti!"