The Master Programmer-Chapter 106: Dark Deals in the Daylight 1

The interrogation room’s heavy atmosphere clung to Jason like a shroud. But at that moment, he stood poised to leave, every muscle in his body taut with a readiness he didn’t fully understand. The tension was almost suffocating, and his mind was filled with a million questions he wanted to answer. But Jason was not a simple man. He was Jason Cross.

The officer was also leaving, her presence commanding immediate attention as she did. But she stood there, looking back at him and he was looking at her in a way that said, what do you want from me this time? This was an annoying scenario, and he did not want to be here, whether for charges that were for him, or for those that weren’t for him.

Her piercing green eyes seemed to see through him, her air of dangerous allure both captivating and unnerving. Her slow, deliberate movements radiated an air of predatory grace. Each of her steps was calculated like a lion stalking its prey.

The way she tilted her head ever so slightly, her piercing green eyes fixed on him, gave the impression she was assessing his every move, deciding the precise moment to pounce. Even the subtle sway of her hips seemed to be part of an unspoken strategy.

She had him in her sights. Jason could tell. She was not done with him. Just perfect. "So you’re just going to leave without giving me your numbers?" Jason said in the manner of a joke.

"Numbers? Dont worry Jason, Cross. I saw your information. I will be giving you a call. And when I do, best believe I will have you in a cell in no time. After all, I know it was you," she murmured, her voice low and silky. The tone carried a weight of certainty that sent a shiver through the room.

"All I need is that suit. Test it for gunshot residue, and we both know what I’ll find. Unfortunately for me, you’re too clever. You’d have cleaned it already by the next time we met. Unfortunately, also, I have no probable cause. Nothing."

Jason stared at her quietly as she continued, "Now, seeing how this got resolved so quickly, and how the Lieutenant himself came by, I know you also have friends in high places. After all, how else would you just leave like this?"

Seeing Jason just look at her with no real giveaway in his expression, she narrowed her eyes. "I’ll make sure you never forget me."

Jason tilted his head, letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth. "A beautiful woman like you, Officer, how could I ever forget? I’d remember you more often if you gave me your numbers too. But now I know... you are not a woman of your word. Guess I’ll only take you seriously the day you call me." His tone was smooth, calculated to disarm and distract.

He maintained unwavering eye contact, projecting a confidence that bordered on arrogance, but it was precisely the effect he intended: That’s right. You will never touch me. So you might as well try. Who knows… if you touch me, I might touch you too.

Hint hint, nudge nudge...

Her expression faltered for the briefest moment, a crack in her otherwise flawless composure before she recovered. "I’ll be watching you, Jason Cross," she said, her voice carrying both a promise and a warning.

Jason nodded slightly, stepping past her with a deliberate calm. "Good luck," he replied, his voice dripping with quiet certainty. It was less a farewell and more a challenge. He liked this female officer. He hoped to see her more. Maybe less confrontationally.

The morning air greeted Jason with a crispness that sharpened his senses as he exited the precinct. He adjusted his suit, the fabric pristine despite the tension of the last hour. His sharp gaze swept over the bustling street, scanning for anything out of place and then he smirked.

It didn’t take long for a figure to catch his attention. Friends in high places... Motherfucker.

Standing by a sleek black car parked conspicuously at the curb, a man leaned casually against the hood. His imposing frame and cold demeanour made him impossible to miss. And that tattoo on his neck… It was Draco.

How the hell was he just casually here? Was he not wanted by the police? Why was he just standing there? And if Jason just walked over, would he not be transmitting that he was one of those people who were part of the Underground?

Draco turned to Jason and looked at him intently. Jason understood the meaning immediately. Someone wants to talk to you. Jason knew who that someone was. Okay, then. Let’s go.

Jason strode toward the car, his steps measured and deliberate. Each movement exuded control, a calculated display of confidence that matched the tension. e was being watched, and even an ounce of a lack of confidence would show the people on the other side that he was not worthy.

When he finally reached the car, Draco wordlessly opened the door, the hinges emitting a soft, mechanical hum. The door swung open backwards… a design detail that seamlessly blended luxury with intimidation.

Jason sank into the seat, his senses enveloped by the car’s understated elegance. The ceiling was dotted with tiny, glowing lights, mimicking a starry night sky. The seats, upholstered in fine leather, exuded warmth and comfort. Opposite him sat Troy, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement and calculation.

Was he flexing his wealth? No this was not flexing. This was merely placing his status out there for Jason to see and understand. He, Troy, was wealthy and deserved to be in a certain kind of circle. Jason had seen wealth like that quite a bit from his old friends. But he was not really that kind of man. He liked cars, but he liked them practical and fast. Not flashy and showy.

"Jason Cross," Troy began, his voice smooth and deliberate, each word carrying a subtle undertone of menace. "An interesting man. Kicked out of your family, scraping by for months, and now… here you are. Rising from the ashes, it seems."

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The ashes? That was funny coming from a guy who had "almost" died last night. Who was rising from the ashes between them exactly? He could only inwardly shake his head. Outwardly though, he had to maintain his confident demeanour.

Everything from the walk to the car to how he sat down and gazed straight at the man without looking away. Everything was to create an impression. You do not intimidate me. Your menace does not intimidate me. You are nothing to me.

Jason leaned back, his smirk unwavering, though, beneath the facade, his mind raced, calculating every potential outcome of this conversation. "I’ll take that as a compliment. But we’re not here to reminisce, are we?"

Troy chuckled, the sound low and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder. "Straight to the point. I like that. Let’s talk about your pills."

Drug dealer mode. Finally. Jason smirked. "So we’re not going to talk about that charade that happened a few hours ago?"

Troy shrugged. "What charade? My people will clean that up and bury it in no time. You won’t even see it in the news. No matter… Let’s move on to the things we need to talk about. The pills. I want them. And I did some research. You’re the only person who can give them to me."

Jason’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly. Troy was sharp, too sharp perhaps. He must have gotten someone to test the pills in a lab only to realise that they could not replicate them. As expected from the system.

Now that he realised how special they were he was back here, looking to get him to be his supplier. Jason nodded, leaning back with a smile. "Ah, so you’ve figured it out. I do appreciate a man with a keen mind."

Troy’s gaze remained steady, unyielding. "Okay, let’s skip the small talk. How many can you provide each month?"

Jason’s fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, each tap deliberate as he gazed into the man’s eyes. "Fifty. No more, no less."

Troy frowned, leaning forward, his presence suddenly more imposing. "That’s too little. The demand—"

Jason interrupted, his tone firm but calm, cutting through the protest. "That’s the beauty of it, Troy. Limited supply drives value. Scarcity makes the powerful desperate. Imagine… a monthly auction. The richest, the most influential, fighting tooth and nail for a taste of what we offer."

Troy’s expression shifted, intrigue flickering across his face. He leaned back slowly, nodding as he processed the idea. "Not bad. You’ve thought this through."

Jason’s smirk widened, his confidence radiating. "I like dealing with intelligent people." His tone carried subtle undertones of respect and challenge, planting the idea that their partnership was an intellectual game both could enjoy.

Everything Jason was doing was to decrease the chances of Troy underestimating him. It was all to make sure that Troy would forever be in the place he needed to be, not a competitor, but a business partner. Try had to see Jason as someone competent.

Troy’s Enterprises owned a bunch of places where he could clean his money, from pawn shops to casinos, and auction houses. He was a big player in the money games in this city. But that was the problem with his operations. There was tons of money, but all of it was really not that clean. Troy probably needed a clean source more than ever right now.

Troy took a moment to think things through until he finally gazed at Jason with a sharp eye. "And your cut?" Troy asked, his voice low, probing.

Jason crossed his legs, his posture relaxed yet commanding. "Fifty per cent. And I want equity in the auction house business you run."

There was silence for a moment before finally, Troy’s laughter filled the car, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through the space. "You’ve got guts, Cross. But don’t push your luck."

Jason raised a hand, halting Troy’s rebuttal before it began. "It’s not luck. It’s leverage. You get exclusive distribution and the first look at any new products I get my hands on. Like this."

Jason reached into his pocket, producing a small vial of shimmering blue liquid. He held it up, letting the light catch the fluid and make it glow with an almost hypnotic allure.

"A cute little prototype, they said. Energy like you’ve never experienced. Imagine what people would pay for something like this… Infinite energy to take on the day, to destroy all the obstacles in your way, to fuck every woman you wish… All of it could be yours… and theirs."

Troy’s interest was palpable, his gaze locked onto the vial. He reached for it, but Jason pulled it back, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Not yet," Jason said, his tone teasing. "Consider it a preview of what’s to come—if we’re partners. And there’s so much more too. But that is not very ready. At least not yet."

"What about the people behind you?" Troy continued naturally. "Is this what they want too?"

Jason gazed at the man. It seemed he was still interested in the people behind him. How funny. Unfortunately, there was nobody behind him. But he would not say that. He needed Troy to overestimate him. At least for now.

"The people behind me direct my every action. Of course, you know that already. I would be nothing without them," Jason began, before turning to the side, looking out of the window. "They have plans for this city. They have plans for every city. I am nothing more than a cog in the machine. And you can be a person who makes a bit of profit from this cog. If they want to meet you one day, they will contact you themselves. By then you might never be able to get away. Just like me."

Troy narrowed his eyes, probably trying to see if he could get some sense of Jason’s lies. But he sensed nothing. Jason was just too good. He had controlled everything, not leaking out even an ounce of discomfort or a tell for lies.

The car slowed as it approached Jason’s home, the opulent vehicle drawing more than a few curious glances. Jason noted Troy’s silence, a sign that the man was carefully calculating his next move. As the car came to a stop, Jason turned to him, his expression unreadable.

"By the way," Jason said, his tone casual yet probing, "who’s James Carter?"

Troy’s eyes narrowed, his composure slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of unease. "A problem. For both of us, if we’re not careful. After all... he is the person behind your boss’ situation, hehe..." Troy released a chuckle, watching Jason’s face change.

Jason’s smirk faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "Then we’ll have to deal with him."

"We’ll? Oh, Jason... he’s an evil man, very dangerous, but he’s a necessary evil. And he’s part of the Carter Family, actually effectively the leader of it. He cannot be touched. Not easily, anyway. Why would I involve myself in your situation?" Troy sat back, looking at Jason in a way that said he was looking forward to an answer.

Jason smirked. "It’s okay. When I said We, I didn’t mean you and me. Never mind. I was talking out loud." Jason thought for a bit more, ignoring Troy’s changing expressions. "You will contact me when you finish the share transfer documents, will you not? I trust you to complete this as soon as possible."

"Sure, but we need more... samples... to attract customers and generate some word of mouth in the communities of the rich," Troy said with a smirk. "And I need some more... gifts. For good cooperation."

Jason smirked. "Who’s pushing their luck now, Troy?" Jason immediately opened the door after saying that. "Find me after you’ve drawn up the contract. I might have some gifts for you then."

As Jason stepped out of the car, Draco’s cold eyes followed him from the front seat, a silent reminder of the stakes. Jason chuckled softly, raising a hand in a mock salute. The car pulled away, its engine purring like a predator. Jason watched the car leave with a smirk on his face.

Troy was dangerous, but he was also useful.

For now.

Jason’s gaze drifted to the rising sun, a faint smirk returning to his lips. The game was far from over.