But I decided to face the press on my own.
The idea of speaking to a crowd of clamoring reporters put a knot in my stomach, but I felt sorry for Reba. Also, despite my queasiness, all the cameras and attention was pretty damn exciting. Yesterday I was just a doorman, shoved and shouted at by strangers on a daily basis; today strangers were shoving and shouting just for a chance to talk to me. Anyone not at least a little thrilled by so much attention has either been a celebrity for too long or is dead inside.
Well aware the Silver Lining would be greeted by a press mob, in addition to agreeing to field all questions, Reba provided me with a button down shirt and a blazer. The outfit was not my style, but neither were massages by smoking hot women or cloud surfing in a flying mansion.
When I stepped up to the podium the reporters when into a frenzy, their shouted questions rising to a sustained roar. Reba raised a calming hand and demanded, "One question a time. Please." Then she pointed to a female reporter in the front.
The reporter sincerely congratulated me, then voiced what I thought was a pretty lame question. "So, how does it feel to inherit all that money?"
Something crazy happened. The crowd dropped to dead silence. Every set of eyes, every camera was riveted to me, waiting for my response. Suddenly I realized, lame question or not, this is what they really wanted to hear. Ninety-nine point nine percent of people would never come even close to being a millionaire, much less the third richest person in the world. They wanted a taste of what they assumed I felt when I first learned the impossible news. I decided not to disappoint them.
I threw my hands up into the air and shouted at the top of my lungs, "IT FEELS INCREDIBLE!"
The crowd of reporters burst into cheers, laughter, and applause. Wendell, Reba, and Dr. Kazue applauded as well.
The questions that followed were a mixed bag. Some just as fun as that first question, and other's that genuinely needed addressing, like which name I preferred, Arthur Zillion Jr. or Mathew Grant? Surprisingly the solution came to me instantly. I told the crowd going forward I'd answer to the name Mathew Grant Zillion, a compromise to honor both my adoptive parents and my birth parents.
But mostly I kept my answers to the reporter's questions light and vague, not wanting to commit to anything because I was still in the dark about pretty much everything. Before I knew it the knot in my gut was gone, and I was actually enjoying myself... until one question changed everything.
The question came from a stern looking man in the center of the crowd. I noticed him earlier when I initially approached the podium. When the reporters cheered my first answer, he was the only person on the tarmac who didn't join in. He just stared at me. There was nothing threatening or friendly in his eyes; he just watched me, completely unreadable.
After Reba pointed to him, the stern-faced man said, "Mr. Zillion how do you plan to resolve Rex Sinclair's claim to half the Zillion estate?"
The puzzled murmur that rippled through the crowd underscored my confused expression. If I were thinking and not caught up in the moment, I would've looked to Reba for guidance. Instead I replied, "I'm sorry, who's Rex Sinclair?"
"Clearly you haven't been briefed on the family business yet. Rex Sinclair is now your uncle."
"My uncle?, but I thought--"
Before I could get another word out Reba jumped in front of the microphones, thanked the reporters, then hurried me away. "Time to go."
Reporters shouting at our backs, Dr. Kazue, Wendell, and the bodyguards trailed as Reba led me across the tarmac toward a sleek luxury helicopter. The large golden Z on its side identified it as another one of my new toys. Its rotors were already cycling up.
I shouted to Reba over the rising turbine noise, "What was that reporter talking about? You said I was Zillion's sole heir."
"It's complicated," she said. "I'll explain once we're safely in the air."
For some reason, Reba's use of the word safely sent a chill down my spine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Some people want you dead."
"What??"
Reba raised a calming hand. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Put it like this. There are some people who'd prefer you were dead."
"And how's that less scary?"
We were in an impossibly quiet, luxury helicopter, zooming north along the California coastline. Instead of enjoying the ocean view, or reclining on the plush leather interior, or sampling the gourmet mini-buffet, Wendell and Dr. Kazue listened in while Reba briefed me on the dark side of my new surname.
Reba explained, "A few very powerful people stood to gain a lot if you were never found and the Zillion estate became intestate."
"Intestate?"
"That means without an heir. In which case the government holds a hearing to decide who gets the money."
"And bam!," Wendell said. "That's when the high-priced attorneys close in and the feeding frenzy begins."
"Exactly," Reba said.
"And Rex Sinclair is one of those powerful people?" I asked.
Reba nodded. "He tops the list because he's the richest, 99th in the world if I recall, and more importantly because his claim's the most legit. Rex Sinclair is Max Zillion's brother. That reporter was right. He really is your uncle."
"Yeah well, Uncle Rex looks kinda crazy," Wendell said, staring at his phone. "Check it out." He turned his screen to show me a photo of a rugged looking older man, garbed in survival gear, clutching a scary looking automatic rifle. Two beautiful women, also in survival gear and holding rifles, flanked Rex. Behind the group loomed, what looked like, a military grade armored plated hummer.
"Is he some kind of hunter," I asked Reba.
She shook her head. "Survivalist. Doomsday prepper. Take your pick. Complete with a secret compound and a good number of followers. Some believe it's a cult."
As Wendell pocketed his phone, he said, "Matt, whatever you do, do not invite Uncle Rex over for Thanksgiving."
Turning back to Reba, I said, "I don't understand. You told me I was the sole heir."
Reba shook her head. "No. I said sole legitimate heir. There was bad blood between Max and Rex. Max not only disinherited his younger brother, he sued Rex, won everything, but agreed to waive the judgment if Rex gave up the family name."
"Damn!" Wendell said. "Talk about sibling rivalry."
Dr. Kazue nodded. "It was terrible. Rex caused Max nothing but stress. Each time they crossed paths, Max would require several massage sessions to clear his head."
Wendall chuckled. "Which head you talking about, doc?"
I shot Wendell a look, then turned to the doctor. "What was the cause of the bad blood?"
"Max never discussed it with me. In fact, he rarely talked about Rex at all."
I turned to Reba. "Do you know?"
She shook her head. "Just bits and pieces. I think it's best you get the full story from Mr. Digby when you meet him."
During the tail end of our cross country flight, Reba explained that a man named Reginald Digby was the Zillion family lawyer. Mr. Digby's full-time job was overseeing the Zillion estate. And Reba, also an attorney, worked as his assistant and investigator. Mr. Digby was currently at the mansion, awaiting my arrival so that I could sign what Reba described as a mountain of paperwork.
I agreed to wait until I could speak to the lawyer but told her I needed the answer to one question that had been nagging me since she rushed me onto the helicopter.
Reba's brow wrinkled. "And what's that?"
"Why does Rex Sinclair scare you?"
Wendall laughed. "Did you not see that picture?"
Reba sighed. "And it's not just Rex. Like I said there are several very powerful individuals who've waited years to get their hands on a piece of your father's fortune. Then you came along... which unfortunately might work in their favor."
"What do you mean?"
"After seven years a missing person is declared dead. But in extraordinary cases, like a kidnapping, it's not as clear cut. Before your parent
s were even buried, Rex and a few others began waging a legal battle against the Zillion estate to have you declared dead. A year ago they finally persuaded a judge to impose a deadline of fifteen years. If you were never found they'd still have to wait another five years before they could touch the estate. But now that you're alive--"
The truth hit me like a slap in the face. "Now that I'm alive... if something happened to me the feeding frenzy would begin immediately."
Reba nodded grimly.
"That's just great," I said.
"No worries, dude," Wendall said. "That's why you have your own private gorilla goon squad." Wendall turned to one of the guards for a fist bump. "Right bro?"
The guard just glared at him.
"Truthfully," Reba said, "I don't think most will be a problem, but Rex truly hated your father and all things Zillion. He could be an entirely different story."
"Hey, check that out," Wendell said, pointing out the left side window.
A tiny drone, about the size of a hockey puck, flew parallel with the helicopter. It looked too small to be any sort of a threat, but the fact that it was flying beside us so purposefully caused my body to tense.
"Hello. There's another one." Dr. Kazue pointed out the opposite window where a second tiny drone flew beside the helicopter.
My tension intensified when I saw Reba and the bodyguards exchange 'what the fuck' looks.
"Holy shit!" Wendell gasped. Then we all saw what he saw. Out the right side window, a dark, massive, undulating cloud, approaching fast. It moved and shifted in creepy unison, like the formations of starlings I'd seen on YouTube. But we weren't watching a miracle of nature. It was drones. Thousands of those tiny drones, swarming straight towards us.
One guard shouted, "STRAP IN, NOW!"
The other guard hit an intercom button. "Pilot, are you seeing this?"
The pilot's voice replied, "Affirmative. But what is--"
The helicopter shuddered violently and black smoke billowed past the windows.
Reba, Wendall, Dr. Kazue, and I had just managed to buckle our seatbelts, but the two guards were flung hard to the floor. Regaining their footing, the guards lunged into seats and strapped themselves in just as the helicopter shuddered again.
Plumes of black smoke darkened the air outside, and the engine began to sputter and grind.
The pilot's surprisingly cool voice blared from the intercom, "Those things are targeting the turbine intakes. Much more and we'll lose the engines. I'm going to try something a little crazy. Brace yourselves."
Then the world turned upside down.
The helicopter barrel-rolled sideways, again and again. A light show of tiny sparking explosions lit up the sky as the churning rotors disintegrated the surrounding drones.
Reba screamed as her seatbelt snapped and she tumbled out of her seat. I grabbed her waist from behind, pulled her onto my lap, then held her tight in a reverse bear hug.
The helicopter rolled over a few more times then finally leveled off.
The sky outside was clear again.
The pilot's voice returned to the intercom. "Looks like we got them all. Hope everybody's okay back there."
"That was insane," Wendell said. "I didn't even know helicopters could do that."
Dr. Kazue held his head as if he were still spinning. "Perhaps coming out of retirement wasn't a good idea."
Reba, still on my lap, glanced back at me, our faces so close we could kiss. "Good catch," she said. "Thanks."
"Sure thing." She felt so good in my arms that I was hesitant to release her.
Reba got up and hurried to the intercom. "Pilot, use an alternate flight plan, but get us to the mansion as soon as possible."
"Yes, ma'am. Copy that."
The helicopter banked sharply and accelerated.
Reba said to me with a frown, "It's just like I feared. The sharks are already circling."
"You think Rex was behind that?"
She made a face. "Drones aren't his style, but I wouldn't put it past him."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Just a wild guess," Wendell said, "but I think this is the place."
About twenty minutes after the drone attack, Wendell and I were gaping out the helicopter's window at a sprawling walled compound.
My new home.
The main building, a Z shaped, glass, wood, and granite, fifty-seven thousand square foot mega-mansion, was perched atop a rocky cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the Pacific. The surrounding manicured landscape offered a huge swimming pool, tennis and basketball courts, a small race track, and of course a helipad. Typically helipads are marked by an encircled letter H, but the one below us featured a large golden Z.
Dr. Kazue sighed at the sight of the mansion. "Ahh, just as I remember it. Absurdly overindulgent... just like your father."
I'd only known about my connection to Max Zillion for less than 24 hours; still, Dr. Kazue's words irked me. The doctor didn't seem to be very fond of his former employer, or the fact that he'd been dragged out of retirement to care for me. I turned from the window and looked at Dr. Kazue. "You don't seem to have liked my father very much."
He scowled at me. "Don't be absurd. No one loved Max more than I. He was the smartest, bravest, kindest, most extraordinary human I'd ever known. That said, nobody's perfect... except for me of course." He then returned his attention to the view outside.
Reba chuckled and said to me, "Don't worry, it took me a while to get used to the doctor's grumpiness as well. He's really a sweetheart inside, but it's buried deep."
The doctor harrumphed. "Sentimental claptrap."
The burst of laughter from Reba, Wendell, and I was interrupted by the pilot's voice over the intercom. "Prepare for touchdown."
WHEN WE STEPPED off the helicopter we were greeted on the helipad by a human giant. Reginald Digby, the Zillion family attorney, stood six feet eight inches tall. He was easily in his seventies, which made his appearance even more unusual. It's not every day you meet an elderly man tall enough to look down at the top of your head. He wore a finely tailored suit that could only be custom made to fit an individual of his build. Despite his imposing stature, Mr. Digby was soft-spoken and had a measured and pleasant way about him. Perhaps, due to his size, he'd learned to overcompensate to avoid coming off as intimidating.
To the group he said, "I'm so relieved to see that everyone's safe. The drone attack has already been reported to the authorities." Then Digby turned his full attention to me. Wearing a warm smile, he paused to take me in before shaking my hand. "It's such a pleasure to meet you again, young sir."
Not sure I heard correctly, my brow wrinkled. "Did you say again? Have we met before?"
Reba provided the answer. "Mathew, Mr. Digby has been with the Zillion family long before you were born."
"She's correct," Digby said. "In fact, I was in the waiting room with your father when Dr. Kazue delivered you." He smiled over at the doctor. "Makato, it's good to see you again."
Dr. Kazue nodded respectfully. "Hello, Digby. The only lawyer I actually find tolerable... despite your freakish height. I pray you haven't changed much."
Digby chuckled. "No. I'm still me, height and all."
"I can't believe you're a lawyer," Wendell said to Digby. "If I had your height I would've played in the NBA for sure."
Digby smiled. "If I had a dime for every time I heard that I'd be a billionaire myself." Digby shook Wendell's hand. "You must be Wendell."
"That's me. Founding member of Matt's entourage."
"Founding hanger-on, you mean," Dr. Kazue murmured.
Wendell wheeled on him. "Look, old man--"
Dr. Kazue spiked his cane down on Wendell's foot.
"OWWWW!" Wendell screamed.
"Always respect your elders," The doctor said. "It's Dr. Kazue, or Doctor, or just plain sir. Take your pick."
"I pick crazy. You could've broken my damn foot."
"Then I'd fix it, as I would any part of your body I was forced to i
njure." Dr. Kazue's eyes narrowed. "Consider yourself warned."
Limping, Wendell turned to me. "Are you going to let him get away with that?"
Laughing I said, "Absolutely."
ME, Reba, Dr. Kazue, and Wendell, who was still limping, followed Digby down a long tree-lined path that emerged onto a huge circular driveway that fronted the mansion's imposing main entrance.
Digby paused and gestured to the looming palatial home like a big top showman. "Welcome to Ace of Spades."
I chuckled. "Did you say Ace of spades?"
"I did," Digby said. "Max, your father, loved high stakes poker. So much so that he named all of his homes after playing cards."
"It's true," Reba said. "The New York penthouse is called king of diamonds. The ranch in Montana, ten of clubs. The beach house in Maui, the queen of hearts. You get the idea."
"That's pretty cool," Wendell said.
I agreed with Wendell, especially since I enjoyed playing poker myself. Although I only played a few times online, I always thought it was a game I could get into once I had the time and the money. Now that I had both perhaps it was time to check that off my bucket list.
I thought we would next enter the house, but instead, Digby remained where he stood and clapped his hands sharply. What happened next would've made my jaw drop, but with great effort I controlled my reaction.
Towering double doors swung open and out walked six gorgeous women, all wearing black skimpy French maid's uniforms with matching diamond chokers around their necks. They lined up in front of us like beauty pageant contestants. None appeared to older than twenty. Their races, hair color, and body types varied, but each could've easily been a Playboy centerfold.
Wendell didn't do as good a job of concealing his reaction. "Holy shit!" he said. "Did we die and go to heaven?"
Some of the women giggled, but all remained in perfect formation.
Three other people emerged from the mansion to stand in line with the maids. A rotund Latino man in a chef's uniform, and an older couple, not in uniform, but dressed quite formally.
Digby signaled and the older couple left the line and approached. They looked to be in their forties and both wore very friendly smiles. Digby said to me, "This is Amador Beltran and his wife, Reneta. Head butler and head housekeeper. They'll also share the duties of household manager.
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