Locke always preferred to have two... sometimes even three layers of preparation.
Preparing for a rainy day is always better than grinding your spear at the edge of the battle.
This was Plan B!
Specifically, it was a plan Locke devised in the less than four hours of preparation time after he learned from Gwen—via her insider info—that George intended to strike the textile mill as well.
The vagrant racing through New York in an Audi R8 had been hired for a mere hundred dollars.
As for that brand-new Audi R8?
Driven straight out of a 4S dealership, of course.
If an assassin doesn't even know how to use stealth and diversion, then that assassin is unqualified.
As for that phone call just now? It was pre-recorded.
In truth...
Whether Locke had been cornered or not, that phone and the ledger would have "fallen" from his lap the moment George found the kidnapped Locke.
Consider it a reward for George.
Furthermore.
Now that the textile mill was wiped out, if George had no spoils of war to show for it, his fate as a scapegoat was set in stone.
Locke had always despised the way Spider-Man tended to leave other families in ruins; naturally, he wasn't going to let George get kicked out of the NYPD because of his actions. He didn't want the man's quality of life to plummet, leading the entire Stacy family to end up huddled under a bridge.
After all, aside from solving cases and being a cop, George didn't have many other specialized skills.
Call it Locke being soft-hearted.
Besides.
The ledger was a hot potato for Locke anyway. It was useless to him. It was better to transfer it to George to prevent him from being swept out of the police force.
...
Kate shook her head at George.
In such a short window—less than thirty seconds—never mind tracing the signal, the technicians at headquarters hadn't even finished booting up their systems.
George set the phone down, thought about the words he'd just heard, and turned his attention to the booklet.
He grabbed it.
Flipped it open.
Good God!
George had barely turned a single page before his expression shifted violently.
Kate Beckett leaned in to take a look, and her face changed just as rapidly.
...
Ten minutes later.
Sitting in the back of a police car, Locke let out a long, weary sigh. He looked at George, who was driving, and asked, "Mr. Stacy, could I borrow your phone? That guy threw mine down an elevator shaft."
"Of course."
George pulled out his mobile and handed it to Locke. "I've already spoken to Gwen, though."
Locke glanced at George, his tone echoing with a faint, hollow quality. "I'm calling the insurance company."
George: "..."
Right.
George finally remembered the Audi R8 that was currently a charred wreck at the entrance of the textile mill.
When Locke placed the call to the insurance agent, he could clearly hear the sound of something shattering on the other end. If he wasn't mistaken, that was the sound of a coffee mug slipping from the agent's hand and turning into dust.
After a moment.
Locke handed the phone back to George. "Thank you."
George asked curiously, "What did they say?"
"He said he needs to consult with his superiors and will likely need to confirm the details with the police."
"That makes sense."
George went silent for a moment before nodding in consolation. "Don't worry, the precinct will handle the communication with the insurance company."
Locke thanked him.
Truth be told, Locke had used a four-figure insurance premium to make the company shell out over two hundred thousand dollars for him already.
He wondered if that poor agent was going to get fired.
...
Very soon, back at the Star Tower.
"Locke!"
Gwen, who had received the news and skipped school entirely, saw Locke stepping out of the police car. The worry on her face vanished instantly. She ran up and threw her arms around him. "Thank thank God!"
'This has nothing to do with God. I am the Instrument of Fate!'
Locke thought to himself. Feeling a sharp, piercing gaze from behind him and catching the pleasant scent of Gwen's hair, he quickly stepped back and smiled. "Thank you, Gwen."
If Gwen hadn't answered that 6:00 AM call and relayed the info to George, Locke's plan wouldn't have been nearly as successful.
However...
Locke didn't feel guilty. At least, not much. On one hand, he did it for himself; on the other, he was actually saving George.
Consider the firepower Locke faced at the mill.
If George had gone in, would he have fared well?
Never mind anything else—would he still be standing here in one piece?
George stepped out of the car, choosing to ignore the "couple-like" embrace he had just witnessed. "I've already cleared it with Midtown High. Locke, you can stay home and rest today."
Locke nodded. "Thank you."
"However," George added, "someone might come by later to take a statement. You saw the Sin Hunter; we might need you to provide a description."
"Of course," Locke replied.
George gave a curt nod, then looked at Gwen. "As for you, young lady, it's time for school. I didn't get you a permission slip to stay home."
Gwen stuck out her tongue, told Locke she'd come by after school to check on him, and then, under George's watchful eye, obediently climbed into the police car.
George got back in the driver's seat.
For Locke and the textile mill, the matter was over.
But for George, things were just beginning.
Putting aside the bloodbath at the mill, the ledger found there—with its records of order dates, client names, and assassination targets—was something George needed to handle immediately.
Beyond the obvious.
One of the names in that ledger belonged to someone in the NYPD—and they weren't low-ranking either!
There was even...
The name of the current Mayor of New York.
Clearly, this list was a hot potato regardless of whose hands it fell into. But with the right maneuvering, a hot potato could be turned into a favorable wind.
A wind that could lift a man up to the azure clouds!
After watching his daughter enter Midtown High, George pulled a U-turn and left the school gates.
"Kate."
"The call is made."
"Ms. Casey will meet us at Central Park."
"Good."
George hung up, glanced at the wrapped ledger sitting on the passenger seat, and floored the accelerator toward Central Park.
Ms. Casey was a candidate in the current New York mayoral election, currently polling just behind the incumbent.
Most importantly.
Ms. Casey's platform aligned perfectly with the NYPD's needs. She was committed to increasing investment in the police force to better protect the city and the lives of New Yorkers.
Furthermore.
For the past two years, Ms. Casey had been a regular contributor to the NYPD fundraising galas.
Unlike the current Mayor, who not only refused to increase police funding but even suggested the NYPD already had more money than it knew what to do with.
George knew exactly why he had been made the head of this task force.
Since that's how it is...
If you are heartless, don't blame me for being unjust!