...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

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librarian_7
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...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

Just under the wire, for the "Death and Taxes" Challenge! Thanks to my ever-wonderful beta, the lovely and talented Allegrita.

…And Taxes

Simon Leever tapped the stack of papers in his hands three times against the top of his desk to straighten them. Then he turned them 90 degrees, and repeated the motion. Tap, tap, tap. Satisfied that they were perfectly aligned, he laid them precisely in the open file folder, and waited for his next appointment to enter his cubicle. He allowed himself a small, tight-lipped smile. They’d give him an office after this one, he thought. He’d been working on this case for years, now, and it was finally coming to fruition.

His supervisors had been skeptical. They were more interested in smaller fish, the ones that could be caught with a simple, yearly audit. Building cases that looked for years-long patterns of fraud and abuse, that was above his pay grade. Not where they wanted him putting in his time and effort, his boss, Mr. Golden, had told him more than once. He’d show him, though. He’d show them all, and then he’d earn that promotion, that office, that recognition. It was only what he deserved.

He spared a quick glance at the clock hanging on the cubicle wall. A gift several years ago from his mother, the sleek rectangle showed time, temperature, and relative humidity, calibrated to a precise standard. His target was running late, and that displeased him. This late afternoon appointment had already been a concession, one that he was only willing to make because he thought it might give the man a false sense that he had any power in the situation. Around him, he could hear his fellow employees gathering their belongings to leave for the evening. Clock-watchers, he thought with some contempt. He would stay as long as it took to do the job right. Might as well use the time productively, he sniffed, turning to his computer monitor. It wouldn’t hurt to run over the case one last time as he waited.

A few minutes later, as he pored over the spreadsheet that laid out all the details of the case for the hundredth (if not the thousandth) time, he heard a slight noise, and turned to find a tall young man in the doorway of his cubicle.

“Mr. Leever?”

“Yes. Mr. Kostan? Come in. Take a seat, I’ll be with you momentarily.” Simon gestured to the hard, ugly chair that stood on the other side of his desk, and turned back to his monitor, conspicuously ignoring the visitor as he flicked away a bit of dust with his pocket handkerchief and sat down. It hadn’t escaped Simon that Kostan was wearing a suit that probably cost more than his own entire wardrobe. He never indulged, of course, but the kind of work he did made him quick to spot the extravagance of others. He was surprised by how young Kostan looked. Hardly more than a boy, and not at all the ruthless businessman Simon had been expecting. His files showed 15 years of complex tax returns, and if looks were any indication, that would mean Kostan’s career as a robber baron had started while he was in middle school. Mentally, he frowned, perplexed.

None of these thoughts showed on his face, however, as he tapped away on his keyboard. Simon was doing useful and necessary work, always necessary work, of course, with no time wasted. He hated wasted time, almost as much is he hated tax fraud. But all the time he was listening to his visitor, waiting for the fidgeting to begin, waiting for the impatience and nerves to start manifesting. This man… given the extent of his businesses, and holdings, he could safely be expected to have considerable self-possession and cunning. On the other hand, he was exceptionally young, young enough that his appearance had startled Simon, and young men were notoriously less willing to put up with petty delays.

He wasn’t hearing the shift and rustle he expected, however. No fingers tapping, or feet shuffling. For all his ears could tell, the chair on the other side of his desk might have been empty.

He turned and plucked a paper from the file on his desk, snatching a glance at his visitor.

Mr. Kostan was sitting comfortably, legs crossed at the knee, hands folded on his lap. His head was cocked to one side, and Simon felt himself the subject of intense scrutiny.

Simon had looked back to his monitor, and was about to begin typing again, when Kostan spoke.

“I can tell,” he said in a pleasant tone, “that you are very good at your job.”

Simon pivoted to look at him in some surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Kostan shrugged. “Making me come in person, then letting me set my own time, but conveniently having other tasks ready to impress on me my relative unimportance. All good tactics, in their way.” He paused for effect. “But what you’re not seeing is that if your target realizes all that, it invalidates the maneuvers.”

Simon could feel an angry flush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. This – this taxpayer was turning the tables on him, and he had no idea how it had happened.

Kostan continued. “If the games portion of the meeting is over, perhaps we can cut to the chase. Why am I being audited?”

It was time to take the reins back. “Why do you think?” Simon asked, maintaining a carefully neutral tone. “I’ve been analyzing your returns from the past several years, and patterns are beginning to emerge.”

“I have a small army of tax lawyers and accountants working on my returns. If they’re not perfect, I’d really like to know the reason why. I’ll have a few personnel adjustments to make.” There was a disconcertingly cold glint in Kostan’s brown eyes, and Simon had to suppress an urge to shiver.

He steeled himself, and schooled himself to keep the tight smile on his lips. “You’re a wealthy man, Mr. Kostan. I’ve been analyzing your returns for –”

“You mentioned that already,” Kostan cut in. “What interests me is what your analysis has shown.”

Simon Leever felt a small trickle of sweat run down his spine beneath the crisp cotton shirt he wore. He wondered briefly if the late afternoon meeting had really been advisable. Usually he could hear the sound of colleagues working throughout the office. Cubicle workers learned quickly to tune out the everyday noises of keyboards, telephones, and quiet conversations. But it had all gradually died away, as people departed the office. Suddenly, he felt very alone and very vulnerable. “Yes. Well.” He took a deep breath. “As far as I’ve been able to ascertain, your returns look letter perfect. And even with, as you say, an army of tax specialists at your command, no one turns in these kinds of masterworks year after year.” He leaned forward, hoping his own eyes were as cold as his visitor’s. “I believe that you’re hiding funds, Mr. Kostan, a lot of funds. I didn’t know yet how you’re laundering it, I don’t know whether you’re hiding it offshore, or in Switzerland, but I think that a sizable portion of your income –” he tapped the file folder with a long, accusing finger, “—is not recorded anywhere in the documents you submitted to us.”

Kostan leaned back a trifle, as much is the chair allowed. Simon got the odd feeling that his statement has pleased the man across from him. “So let me get this straight. You have called me in here, threatened me with an audit, and accused me of concealing funds from the government because my tax returns are perfect.” He threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed strangely in the empty office, and before he’d quite recovered himself, his phone rang. He smiled wolfishly at Simon. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” Extracting his phone from an inner pocket of his jacket, he put it to his ear, and listened carefully for a few seconds. “Everyone out? All right. Thanks. I’ll be down in a few.” He glanced up at the taxman. “Yes. Tell the Cleaners to stand by.” He ended the call, and slipped his phone back into his jacket. “Now, where were we?”

“I can assure you, Mr. Kostan, that this is no laughing matter.”

“You just told me that you have no proof of any malfeasance on my part. It sounds pretty funny to me.” There was no trace of humor in his eyes.

Simon refused to back down. “I’ll get the proof. We’ve got good accountants, too, and we’ll find it. It’s inevitable. And when we do, the tax bill will be paid.” He spread his lips, his own smile cold and joyless.

Kostan stood up, a graceful, almost inhuman, flow to his movements. “Mr. Leever,” he said with a false sad shake of his head, “I think you’ve forgotten something very important. Taxes may be inevitable, but there’s another part of that saying.” He leaned forward, and impossibly, in his open mouth, Simon Leever could see sharp, white teeth. “And I’m afraid that if you’re Taxes-- I’m Death.”
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by cassysj »

Vampire audits just won't do. Josef taking care of business. it's almost a shame about Mr. Leever, under other circumstances he may have found Josef a friend instead of an enemy.
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by MickLifeCrisis »

Ooo... got a little shiver at the end. As I'm sure Mr. Leever did also. This was great, Lucky! It grabbed me right from the start. He learned the hard way... don't mess with Josef!

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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by allegrita »

I really love this story! :clapping: I can see Mr. Leever, salivating over his oh-so-sure promotion. But Josef has been through far worse... and Simon has met his match, and then some. :devil:

You've done your job so well that I really don't feel sorry for Simon. He has dug so many financial graves for others, with nary a thought for the misery he may have caused. It seems only poetic justice that he'd suffer a similar fate... only in a physical, not financial, sense. Sadly, no one is likely to miss him. Maybe his mother... :shrug:

Ah well. Pride goeth before a fall, as they say. Simon gambled and lost, and Josef will live to fight (and win) another day.
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by maggatha3 »

Lucky!! Your Josef is always perfect. Too perfect for some, but it's their bad luck,isn't it? :rose:

By the way, I am not familiar with that saying about tax and death, could you tell me what it is?
-It never ends well...
-Never?
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

It's expressed many ways, and I believe Allegrita put the original quote in the challenge prompt, but basically, it goes "there are two things certain in this life: death and taxes."

Thanks so much, ladies, for reading and commenting!
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by darkstarrising »

Great answer to the challenge, Lucky :hug:

Poor Leever. He believed his efforts would get him what he deserved, and they did, just not what he wanted. His boss was right; he should have stuck to the smaller fish, those who'd quail at the mere thought of being audited. Not Josef. All that hard work and effort Leever put into trying to trip Josef up only got him a trip to that great office in the sky.

Love the little touches about this auditor - he has delusions of grandeur, or his feelings that his talents aren't being properly recognized and recorded. His job is his life, and the only personal thing he refers to is a gift from his mother - a clock. He's a perfectionist - everything has to be just so, and he knows the tricks to get the taxpayer to sweat. Until Josef, that is. How amused Josef must have been to have this little man think he had Josef to rights.
“And I’m afraid that if you’re Taxes-- I’m Death.”
Perfect ending, absolutely perfect. :rose:
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by MickLifeCrisis »

darkstarrising wrote: How amused Josef must have been to have this little man think he had Josef to rights.
Indeed! Well, Josef is always ready for a little amusement at the expense of humans. :snicker:
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

I was a little worried that Josef would come across as too...dark and violent, in this, but then again, haven't we all met people who ought to tar pitted? :whistle:
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by allegrita »

Hey, according to Mick, Josef kills people every day. Of course, he may delegate some of it to others, but... :winky: And anyway, I think he'd enjoy the personal touch with this guy. He was just too full of his own self-importance. Deserved to be taken down a peg... or a few pints. Fielder's choice. :snicker:
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Re: ...And Taxes (Challenge #165) -- PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

allegrita wrote:Fielder's choice. :snicker:
Rah, rah, rah! :teeth:
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