Genetic Imperfections

by Steve Hadden

  “We need to meet at the office. I have something you have to see. It’s regarding CGT.”

  Priscilla listened closely for any changes or strange inflections in his voice. He sounded as cold and calculating as ever. Still, he should have been killed.

  “What is it?”

  “Not on the phone.”

  “All right, Royce. When?”

  “Four o’clock, your office.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  She slammed phone on the table and peered at the floor.

  “You okay, Pris?” Brit asked.

  She continued staring at the floor and asked herself: What was this about? Had he found out? Had he found some way to escape and now he’d want revenge? Or had Donovan decided the timing wasn’t right? Maybe someone had been with Brayton all night. That’s probably it, she convinced herself. She wondered if Brayton may have found his conscience. He knew there was a problem with CGT but Pris thought that problem would die along with the three people standing between her and twelve billion dollars.

  “Pris?” Brit repeated.

  “Oh. I’m fine. I just have to get to the office.”

  “Gonna meet with Roycie-pooh?” Brit raised her eyebrows implying another tryst.

  Priscilla didn’t answer, and Brit shrugged her shoulders, left the sofa and disappeared into the second bedroom. Priscilla checked her watch. It was noon. She had four hours to get ready. Maybe Donovan would get him on the way to the office, she hoped. He’d said he’d take care of it himself; she’d counted on Donovan doing his job, not just with Brayton but with all of them. He’d delivered on her father and her brother, and he’d explained it was just a matter of time before he got Wellington and the girl. While he’d missed them twice, she was confident he wouldn’t miss a third time. Brayton, he bragged, he’d do for free. By the time four p.m. rolled around, everyone standing between her and her twelve billion dollars would be gone, and she’d get more money and power than her father, brother, or that cockroach of a husband ever had, combined. She planned on Brayton not showing, but, just in case, she decided to bring along a little insurance.

  CHAPTER 55

  The executive garage of Rexsen Labs was buried deep below the basement of the four story administration building. It was Saturday afternoon, and David stepped from the white Explorer and shivered. He’d been here hundreds of times before but had never noticed how the thick concrete held a chill. The echo of three doors slamming shut, bounced through the empty underground garage, and David led Brayton and Tori to the elevator.

  As they rose to the fourth floor, all three remained silent. David stood between Tori and Brayton and eyeballed Brayton, who hung his head and looked down. David could see he was ashamed and defeated. He looked for any weakness in Brayton’s commitment to help, but he saw none. He’d help, and then surrender to the authorities. He assumed Brayton knew he’d be a little safer in custody, but not much.

  The doors opened, and they began their walk down the long mahogany corridor toward the suite once occupied by Adam Rexsen. David listened to their footsteps thumping on the wood planked floor. He eyed the priceless antiques, expensive artwork, and rich marble, and shook his head. The lavish surroundings he had insisted on meant nothing any more.

  Back then, the fourth floor felt like a castle; his castle, and he was the king. Now, the place felt more like a tomb, hollow and empty. He’d helped Adam Rexsen build it from the ground up. Adam’s last lecture about knowing life’s purpose haunted him. He thought about Amy. If they didn’t succeed this afternoon, he might as well have put a gun to her head. He wondered if he had listened to Adam earlier and lived his life with purpose, how many kids like her he could have helped.

  They reached the entrance to the suite tucked in the northwest corner of the building and stopped. Brayton raised his palm and signaled Tori and David to wait in the hallway. He disappeared around the corner. Tori leaned in and hugged David. After a moment, David tried to release her, but she didn’t let go.

  David knew this may be the last time they’d see each other—ever. The plan was risky, but with time running out, it was the only option left. In less than an hour they’d be dead, on their way to jail, or perhaps, free; free to live out their lives together. Brayton returned, and Tori reluctantly released David.

  “It’s clear, but we’ll have to hurry. There’s not much time, and Priscilla will be here soon.”

  Led by Brayton, the three entered Priscilla’s office. David stopped just inside the door. It was the first time he’d been in Adam Rexsen’s office since his death. He scanned the room. Adam’s favorite paintings still hung on the paneled walls. His gaze was drawn to a limited edition by G. Harvey, centered on the wall to the left. Sadness tugged at his heart when he read the title engraved on a gold plate at the base of the ornate frame. The Warmth of Friendship depicted several cowboys, obviously friends, shrugging off a snowy winter night, while they stood close and shared a conversation.

  Tori headed directly to the computer sitting on the credenza, behind the desk. The monitor faced the room and flickered to life, and Tori’s thin fingers flittered over the keyboard. After a few clicks of the mouse, she stood up, reached behind the monitor and yanked its power cord from the socket.

  “Done,” she said. “I’ve activated the web cast and the web cam will broadcast the whole thing. Just don’t let her turn on the monitor.”

  Brayton, apparently enjoying his last look at freedom, gazed out the window behind the credenza at the sails floating over the water, just off Newport Harbor.

  He shook his head and said, “She never uses that thing.”

  David nodded.

  “You’re on, Royce.”

  David listened to his words. The man he was ready to kill just hours ago, was now his ally. He knew Royce Brayton may be guilty of covering up the problem with CGT, but compared to Priscilla’s trail of murders, that was just a misdemeanor. David had actually felt some sympathy for Royce as he sat in his office at home, with Donovan still bleeding on his floor, and described his money troubles. His father’s help from prison had only put him further in debt with the Marcosa family, and it was either be killed or cover up the CGT’s genetic imperfections and get to the big payday from the IPO.

  Tori had shown much less mercy for Brayton. As he attempted to apologize, she slapped his face and called him a selfish, arrogant bastard. She finished the scolding by telling him that had he listened to her full presentation a week ago, he would have known there was a solution. Brayton appeared stunned at her revelation. Tears welled in Brayton’s eyes when Tori described how his selfishness would deny young children, like her brother and Amy, the right to live.

  Now, David watched Brayton circle Priscilla’s desk. Expressionless, he picked up the phone and began to place the calls as promised. One at a time, he reached each of the board members and instructed them to click into the web cast Tori had just initiated and wait. David checked his watch, 3:30. The last call would be made from the office down the hall.

  Brayton rose from the desk and looked at Tori.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  Tori gave Brayton a nasty look, then walked up to David and kissed him.

  “Come back to me, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, I will.” David kissed her. “You just bring the cavalry.”

  He watched Brayton leave the room, followed by Tori. She stopped at the door as if to take one last look, just in case. Then she disappeared. Left alone, David moved to the chair behind the desk. After checking the angle of the web cam mounted atop the computer screen behind him, he dropped into the chair and waited for his wife.

  CHAPTER 56

  Priscilla entered the office and flipped on the lights. David spun in the high back office chair to face her.

  With a shocked gasp, she halted in mid-stride.

  “Hello, Priscilla.”

  “David? What are you doing here?” Priscilla took a step sideways away from the door, and without taki
ng her eyes from David, closed it. She slipped her Coach shoulder bag off and propped it up on the back of the wing back chair next to her.

  “I thought I’d check out your spoils,” he said.

  “My spoils?”

  David knew the last call had been made the moment Priscilla entered the fourth floor elevator lobby, half way down the hall. As planned, Brayton had invited the FBI to click into the web cast. They’d identify the location as the Rexsen headquarters immediately and swarm the building in minutes.

  He had to work fast.

  “Yes Priscilla, the spoils from all your hard work.”

  Her eyes were scanning the room, wondering if someone else was nearby.

  “If I were you David, I’d be worried about saving my own ass.”

  “Based on the meeting I had this morning with your associate, I’d say you have that backwards,” he said.

  Apparently satisfied they were alone, Priscilla fixed her stare on David. He’d never seen this look before: cold, calculating, and deadly.

  “You have no idea what you are doing, you pompous ass,” Priscilla scoffed. “You’re just like the rest of them.”

  “The rest of them?”

  “Yes, you asshole. My father, Prescott, Brayton—you all think you’re so much better than I am.”

  David rose slowly and moved to the right of the desk with his back to the wall.

  “Your father knew exactly who you are. He told me, just before you killed him.” David knew the words would cut deep. He moved along the wall and closer to the door. Priscilla remained focused on him and held her ground next to the door.

  “My father was a chauvinistic pig who got what he deserved! Now I’m calling the shots; not you, not him, and not that snot-nosed brother of mine. He never thought I was smart enough to run this company. He favored Prescott and he favored you. But I’m smarter than all of you put together.”

  “So you had your own father killed, you ungrateful bitch?” David tried to drift a little closer to the door, but Priscilla jammed her hand into her bag and pointed a black revolver at David.

  “Stop right there, David.”

  David froze. He knew she’d pull the trigger. He hoped not too soon.

  “You killed your father, didn’t you?” he persisted

  “You’re damn right I did. I deserve this company. I put up with his shit all my life. I even married your sorry ass just to make him happy. What did I get in return? I’ll tell you what—nothing! So I just took what I deserved.”

  Her eyes narrowed on David. “And now I’m going to end our marriage the way it deserves to be ended—permanently. Pretty good for a woman, huh?”

  David felt his anger shifting to fear. He knew the plan was working from his end, but Brayton had to come through soon. Priscilla stepped closer to David and blocked the door.

  “You were supposed to die in the crash, you little cockroach. If I hear that miracle man crap one more time, I’ll puke. I’m going to kill you myself.”

  “Just like you killed your brother?”

  Priscilla chuckled. “I’d like to take full credit for that one, but I had a little help. That weasel got what was coming to him. He was weak. I had him wrapped around my little finger. That is until my father died and he became head of the family trust. He was actually buying into that having a purpose shit, after I’d just gotten rid of my father. He was going to turn to a life of service like his dear old daddy. But this is about what’s mine. My father made him trustee in the will just because he had a penis. So I had you framed for his murder; kind of a two for one deal. Who says I can’t watch the bottom line?”

  Priscilla grinned and cocked the gun.

  “How are you going to explain this murder, in your own office?”

  Priscilla smiled. “You know you’re wanted for two murders. I just had to shoot you because you attacked me.”

  She reached down and ripped her white blouse with her free hand. She moved another step closer. David could smell her soft sweet cologne now.

  David saw Priscilla’s look dart to the window. Red lights flashed and danced in the refection on the window, and he heard the screeching tires of several unmarked FBI cars coming to a halt at the front entrance.

  David nodded towards the window. “You might want to reconsider.”

  Priscilla’s glare bolted back to David.

  “You son-of-a-bitch.” She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.

  The office door burst open, and Brayton lunged at Priscilla as she fired. David hit the floor hard. He saw Brayton crumple to the floor and he ended up face to face with him. Brayton just stared at David and then slowly closed his eyes.

  David sprang to his feet as Priscilla took aim again. Scrambling out the door, he heard another shot ring out. Splinters dug into his face as the door frame shattered next to his head. On a dead run, he raced down the hallway towards the elevators. As he approached the corner leading to the dead ended elevator lobby, he darted around the corner as another shot exploded in his ear and ripped through the mahogany paneling. If the elevators aren’t open, I’m dead man, he thought. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Four black jacketed FBI agents leapt from the opening elevator and four weapons took aim at his chest.

  “Freeze!”

  David hit the floor. Looking behind him, down the corridor, he saw Priscilla pop into view and prepare to fire. She didn’t seem to notice the agents, until it was too late.

  “You cockroach,” she screamed.

  She finally spotted the armed agents taking aim, and her jaw dropped, but still, she took aim at David and closed her eyes anticipating the blast from her gun. The deafening roar of four 9MM Glocks firing in unison just above his head ripped through his ears. He felt the ejected shells pepper his back.

  Priscilla recoiled like a bloody rag doll and landed on her back as all four bullets hit center mass. The agents advanced, checked her body, then headed down the hallway. Two other agents stepped out of the second elevator, and David felt himself being cuffed. He let out a deep breath and dropped his head on the floor.

  It was over. Priscilla was dead, and the FBI and the board had the evidence needed to clear him.

  He was pulled to his feet and escorted to the first floor lobby. Police, FBI agents and paramedics scrambled around in organized chaos. With his hands cuffed behind him, David was led to a circle of five men standing around the reception desk. A tall pot-bellied man with gray hair held a radio and barked orders.

  “David,” he heard Tori’s voice echo across the ebony polished floor. He struggled to turn, but the agents pushed him forward to the man apparently in charge. He lowered the radio from his ear and scowled at David.

  “You’re a hard man to find. You cost me a lot of sleep.”

  Did they get the broadcast? Did something go wrong? Am I being led away a murderer?

  David stared back and said nothing.

  “Uncuff him.”

  The agents gave the man a puzzled look.

  “Uncuff him. He’s not the killer. She’s upstairs, dead.”

  The man smiled, and David felt the cuffs snap off. He pivoted and weaved through the crowded lobby to Tori as she stood on her tip-toes and tracked him with her eyes. She met him halfway, and they embraced. He never wanted anything more than this moment. Tori buried her head in his shoulder. He stroked her hair.

  “We did it. We made it. It’s okay, it’s okay now,” David whispered.

  David held her and didn’t want to let her go, ever. They’d done it. She’d gotten the cavalry here just in time, and now they’d have each other for the rest of their lives. They saved more than each other’s lives; they saved each other’s hearts and souls. Priscilla and Prescott were dead, the result of genetic imperfections science had not yet, and may never, be able to control—greed and jealousy. The last remaining imperfection was in CGT. He’d have his company back, and he’d send CGT back into the pipeline. Suddenly, Adam Rexsen’s purpose became his own. He pulled back and looked into Tori’s
eyes.

  “We’re not done yet. We have one more stop to make,” he said.

  Tori wiped her eyes and read the look on his face; his eyes held the final clue. As if receiving a silent message, a determined smile grew across Tori’s face. She nodded and took his hand. They both knew who they needed to see.

  CHAPTER 57

  It was Christmas Eve, and David Wellington leaned back on the rail and grinned at the excitement on the ten-year-old’s face. At the helm of the fifty-six foot Manhattan luxury yacht, Amy Carlton pushed the throttle forward, and the sleek craft skimmed across the open water. David tugged down on the bill of his cap as his brightly colored Tommy Bahama shirt flapped in the wind. Tori leaned against him and wrapped her arms around him. He saw Amy’s eyes glance in his direction, and he nodded, giving approval for more speed. Her high pitched giggles were drowned out by the deep throated rumbling of the accelerating engines.

  Two months after Priscilla’s demise, David and Tori were living a dream. David would easily trade the last two months for the forty-five years he’d lived before. Tori was the love of his life. They’d been together every day. She’d stood at his side as the board unanimously voted to return him to the post of Chief Executive Officer of Rexsen Labs. She’d sat in the mahogany offices of Adam Rexsen’s law firm while the executor of Adam Rexsen’s estate read the Trust documents that named David as the sole heir of the Rexsen fortune. More importantly, she’d taken him to her parent’s ranch in Los Osos, on the central California coast, and introduced him as the man she would wed.

  Amy glanced at David again, and he stepped behind her at the helm. Together, they pulled back on the throttle and the boat slowed to a stop just outside Newport Harbor. Joe took the helm and began to guide the boat into the channel that led to the Eagles Nest Marina.

  “That was awesome!” she said as she turned and hugged David, then skipped across the deck to Tori and hugged her. “This is the best Christmas vacation ever, Miss Clarke.”