by Chloe Lang
Since West Virginia abolished the death penalty in 1965, Kip received seven back-to-back life sentences, which went on top of his previous life sentence for a total of eight.
Kip was moved to a high-security prison in Marion, Illinois. He was not allowed to use any of the computers in the place, as the warden feared he might do what he’d done in Beckley. The warden had been smart to worry. One of the guards gave him a cell phone. With it, Kip broke into the prison’s network, taking it over as he’d done before. The guard’s bank account suddenly had over three hundred thousand dollars deposited into it from an offshore source that the FBI, to this day, hadn’t been able to track down.
Kip left Marion for a suburb of Chicago, where Paula Childs had just relocated with her kids. Paula was shot in the head twice and in the chest once. The kids, thankfully, had been away at their grandparents’.
Kip had returned to Marion and confessed to the crime without hesitation or remorse. The next psychiatrist noted how much the bastard loved talking about the murders. It was like a badge of honor to him, a way of proving how superior he was to everyone around him.
He was then moved to a high-security prison, which it turned out had been by his design to end up there. He’d forged some records that weren’t found out until later. Even without access to computers, cell phones, or anything else and with only an hour a day out of his cell, he’d figured a way around the system. Kip had gotten one of his cronies hired on at the new prison as a guard six months before his arrival. With the help of his plant, in no time, Kip was the kingpin of the inmates. Unlike before, Kip only left that prison one time, killing two more people—his mother and father.
His final confession might’ve been the worst of the lot. “You can’t imagine how satisfying it was to see their eyes wide with shock when their loving and brilliant son slit their wrinkled throats.”
That was eighteen months ago. The warden at this prison was taking no chances with Kip, the reason for the unique cell.
“How’s your brother?” Kip asked behind the thick Plexiglas wall.
“I’m not here to get reacquainted. I’m here to ask you some questions.” Keeping his rage in check was proving difficult.
Megan had been conned into marrying Kip. If the fucker hadn’t been arrested soon after, Kip might’ve hurt or even killed her. Thank God the bastard would spend the rest of his miserable life in this tiny cell.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a motherboard on you, Scott? An old friend could sure use some help right now.”
“We’re not friends.”
“We were once.”
“I was a friend to you. You used Eric and me. You were never a real friend.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way, Scott. I see it entirely from a different vantage point, a more enlightened vantage point, I might add.”
God, Scott had forgotten how arrogant the bastard could be. “The clock is ticking and I have a few questions.”
“It’s ticking for you, Scott. Not me. I remember how you and Eric always liked making the big deals. Here’s my offer, take it or leave it. Twenty questions each where only ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is the answer. I go. Then you go. And so on. Do we have a deal?”
“Like the kids’ game?”
Breaking the rules and beating the odds had always been Kip’s fascination. Nothing had changed. It had only gotten worse.
“You’re right. We’re not kids anymore. We’re all grown up. Seven questions then. Do we have a deal?”
Fuck! The creep was enjoying this. Getting what he’d come for would be difficult with the limitations Kip had set up.
As tough as it might be, he would have to try. “Yes. But that was your first question.”
Kip laughed. “Bingo. Now you.”
Scott took a deep breath, trying to formulate the right first question. Kip surely couldn’t be the one getting in the back door of TBK’s network. But what if he was? Best to start with the obvious. “Are you the one hacking into TBK’s network?”
“No. Now, my turn. Are you fucking my wife?”
Scott’s blood boiled to blistering hot. He’d made it a point not to mention Megan. He didn’t want Kip to have any clue about her. “What do you know about Megan?”
Kip made a buzzing sound like heard on TV game shows when someone gives a wrong answer. “You just lost two questions, one for not answering my question and one for asking a question that couldn’t be answered by ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ You’re down to four. But as a courtesy, I’ll answer what I know. I married Megan because she was pretty and gullible.”
Scott would love nothing more than to get on the other side of that glass and make the world a better place by executing the psycho with his bare hands. “Stop playing games with me, Kip.”
“The poor thing holds a special place in my heart, Scott. She kept trying to find me in the prison system after my arrest. I’m sure she wanted to sue me for divorce, but I wasn’t having any of that. It was easy for me to manipulate the prison records and send her on wild-goose chases.”
“I know where you are now and she will be divorcing you.”
Kip shrugged. “Okay. I was bored with that little game a long time ago. When can I expect to see my wife with the divorce papers?”
Scott pounded on the Plexiglas. “Never. Answer my questions and I’ll leave you alone.”
“What makes you think I want to be alone?”
Scott made the same buzzing sound. “Can’t answer that according to your own rules.”
“I was testing you and you passed with flying colors. Very good.” Kip’s condescending tone didn’t matter to him. “I’ll be a sport and mark me down to four, also. It’s a dead heat. Your turn.”
“Let’s cut the crap and you tell me what you know.”
“Too bad. I guess we’re done here then.”
“The fuck we are.”
Kip’s lips twisted into a sinister smile. “That’s the Scott Knight I remember, the brother who has trouble with control. Very nice. I always considered myself an amalgam of you and Eric. Your passion melded with his control. Of course, my brains are my own. Sorry.”
“You’re nothing like us and we’re most certainly nothing like you.”
“Do you have a question for me or are you forfeiting?”
Scott tamped down the murderous storm inside him. Four questions. “Do you know who is hacking into TBK?”
“Excellent. The answer is ‘yes.’”
His gut tightened. Kip might not be the hacker but he knew who was.
“My turn,” the asshole said. “Is Vicky still working at TBK?”
Why would Kip ask about Vicky? “Do you know where she is?”
“No. Pretty girl.”
The fucker was clearly lying. But how could he have any contact to the outside being in this kind of cell? Hoping to push him into slipping up, Scott said, “The feds think you’re gay. Vicky was into you as I recall and you didn’t give her the time of day. Makes sense to me.”
“Gay. Straight. Just labels for people who can fit into neat little boxes all together. I’m unique, Scott. You are, too, you know.”
“If you’re trying to give me a compliment, don’t. Besides, looks to me like they found a box that can hold you.”
Kip frowned and narrowed his eyes, revealing he hadn’t figured a way out of this cell as he had the others. “Your turn, cowboy.”
“Is the hacker working at TBK?”
“Yes. Was Megan’s pussy nice and tight the first time you fucked her?”
“You goddamn motherfucker.” He stood and pounded on the glass with his fists.
Kip smiled. “Too bad. That insult lost you the rest of your questions. I’m bored with this. The game is over, Scott, but I do hope to see you again.”
“The game is hardly over.” He grabbed up the files on the bench and exited.
* * * *
Megan looked across the street at the O’Leary Tower, a ten-story office building featuring a projecting cornice
decorated with interlocking circles and leafy garlands.
“Tallest building in Destiny. TBK’s offices are behind it.”
“Impressive. Looks like you could plop it down in any major city in the country and it would fit right in. Looks turn of the century.”
“Patrick and Sam would love hearing that. It was built in 1976, but they wanted it to look as if it had been in town for a hundred years. I’ll have to let them know it worked.”
They crossed over South Street continuing down East. When she spotted the marble inlay of a dragon above the entrance of the tower, she grinned. She really couldn’t wait to meet the eccentric Patrick O’Leary.
A few steps more and she saw TBK’s building come into view. It sat next to the O’Leary Tower and was as different from it as night and day. It looked like a giant mirrored box.
“Ta-da,” Eric said with a grin. “Welcome to TBK Destiny.”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this is beautiful. Be honest, you had more say in the design than Scott.”
“Damn, there’s little that gets past you. Yes. Scott’s been the lead on all the other TBK locales’ architecture. He built the mansion, so when we decided to put a building in our hometown, I took charge.”
“It’s so different from your home.”
“Come on inside. You’ll recognize Scott’s input here and there.” Eric took her hand and squeezed. “But it is mostly me in there.”
They walked into the building through the massive glass doors. To their left a guard sat behind a large desk, also made of glass. A small reception area with white leather modern sofas sat opposite him. Another set of doors, also of glass but this time frosted so she couldn’t see beyond, stood right in front of them.
“Hello, Mr. Knight.”
“Terrence, how are you?”
“I’m fine. I have Mrs. Lunceford’s badge right here, just as you requested.” Terrence handed him a plastic card.
“Thanks.” Eric gave it to her. “This grants you access into the building.” He waved good-bye to the guard and led her to the door. “All you have to do is swipe your badge like this.” He took his own card and demonstrated. She heard a buzzing noise. Eric pulled the door open. “Time to clock in, little one.”
Stepping through the door, she gasped at the beauty in the massive open space. It looked like a piece of art. The walls reminded her of paper origami in several shades of white, seeming to fold and twist into itself. Clean lines in the furnishing and indirect lighting gave a sense of order. There were no cubicles here but tidy workspaces with large monitors, three to a person. It looked more like a science fiction spaceship than an office.
“I don’t see Scott’s influence here.”
“Good eye. Let’s get you settled in.”
“I’d like that. There’s an empty desk over there by the window.”
Eric put his arm around her. “This isn’t your floor, little one.”
He led her to the bank of elevators. “Try your card on the reader, Megan.”
“You have to use your card to use the elevator here at TBK?”
“The projects we work on are sensitive. The higher the floor, the greater the sensitivity and the more clearance and background checks are required.”
“Have you run a background check on me?”
“No need. Dylan got the scoop on you when we were trying to sue you. You’re clean.”
She swiped her card and the elevator doors opened. They walked in.
Eric punched the top-floor button. When the elevator stopped, the door didn’t open immediately. A voice came through a speaker. “This is the executive level. Please swipe your card and enter your access code number on the keypad below for entry to this level.”
“You weren’t kidding about security, Eric.”
“I wasn’t. There’s more. You’ll see. Only TBK execs and a few other employees can reach this floor. Scott and I are the only TBK executives in Destiny. Well, now you.”
“I’m not an executive, Eric. I’m your personal assistant.” For three months? She’d forgotten about the time frame in all the swirl of the past couple of days. That was the contract. No more. No less. Her gut tightened at the thought.
“Whatever,” he said with a laugh. “Your badge works here, too. I gave you the same number as mine. Later, you’ll need to pick your own number. Right now, mine is synced to your badge. Zero-nine-two-eight-two-zero-zero-one. Try it again.”
The card reader was just above the keypad. She swiped it as instructed.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now the keypad.”
She entered the numbers by memory. “That’s a date, right?”
“It is.”
“Welcome, Megan, to TBK,” the voice said, and then the doors opened.
“I’ve seen this kind of thing in the movies but not in real life.”
“I’m glad you’re impressed,” he said.
They stepped out of the elevator to the top floor. Here was Scott’s influence. Warmer tones. Softer furnishings.
“Hello, Eric,” a buxom brunette said from behind a big desk right to their left.
“Hey, Erica.”
Erica? You’ve got to be kidding.
“You must be Megan.” The woman came around the desk and held out her hand.
She shook Erica’s hand. “Must be nice sharing a name with the boss.”
“It beats changing my name to Scott. Too masculine, don’t you think?” Erica winked, and Megan’s green-eyed monster scurried to the back of her consciousness to remain on guard.
“Eric. Erica. Doesn’t it get confusing?”
“Not really. Sometimes, I guess. Just remember I’m the one with the deep voice.” Erica laughed, and Megan was beginning to think she might actually like spending time with her. “I love your outfit. It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She looked at Erica’s attire. White blouse, silver earrings and necklace, tan slacks, and high heels. “Yours, too.”
“Got to love TBK’s wardrobe allowance, don’t you?” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone. “Don’t tell Eric or Scott, but I’d work here for free if I had to as long as I got to keep it.”
“We already know that about you, Erica. It’s cheaper to give you the allowance than to pay you what you’re really worth.”
“You can say that again,” the woman said. “All the executives are online for the video staff meeting. Only one slot missing, Felix, who is supposed to be filling in for Vicky.”
“Why?” Eric asked her.
She shrugged. “Felix called in sick.”
Eric raised one dark eyebrow. Something clearly didn’t sit right about this for him. “Felix has one of the best attendance records in all of TBK. Strange.”
“Don’t be paranoid, boss,” Erica said. “Felix is older than when he started with you guys. Maybe he’s ill.”
Megan wondered what was going thorough Eric’s mind.
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll head to the conference room in a minute after I get Megan settled in.” Eric pulled out his cell. “I’m going to call Felix at home.”
“I could do that for you,” the woman said.
“I didn’t ask you, did I?” After hitting Felix’s number, he brought his cell to his ear.
Erica snorted. “No, you didn’t. But do you mind keeping your Dom demeanor off this floor. That works at Phase Four but not here. I’m your employee, not your sub.”
Eric glared at her. He definitely didn’t care for her insolence. “Damn. Voicemail.” He hung up his phone.
The woman glared back in clear defiance for a moment, but in only a few seconds looked away.
“Let the GMs know I’ll be there shortly,” Eric said. “Megan, you’re with me.”
“Okay.”
Eric led her to another set of double frosted-glass doors. “These are our offices. Mine. Scott’s. Yours.” He pointed to the box by the door with another keypad. “This is the latest biometrics technology.”
“I’m
not familiar with that.”
“Think of a fingerprint. No two are alike, but it’s not that difficult to fake fingerprints if you know what you’re doing. Like fingertips, our eyes are unique, too, and in particular the iris. This scans your eye and runs an algorithm that analyzes features in the colored tissue surrounding your pupil. It compares rings, furrows, and filaments. All you have to do is look into the device here.” He pointed to an eyepiece on the box. “This model has a cool feature in that it runs several scans in a microsecond with a variety of illuminations to prevent a false positive.”
“You love this stuff, don’t you?” She could hear the excitement in his voice.
“Yes. I’m a geek.”
A very sexy geek who looks more cowboy in his Stetson and boots than a billionaire technocrat.
“This same model is used at the Pentagon.” He leaned down, moving his eye within a few inches of the eyepiece.
“Welcome, Eric. Please enter your numeric code on the keypad now.”
“Same one as the elevator?” she asked.
He nodded and typed in the number.
“September 28, 2001. What’s the significance?”
The doors opened silently on their own.
She thought that was very cool, very sci-fi.
“It’s the day my parents died in the plane crash. Come on in.”
Shocked at his sudden openness to her, Megan felt her pulse race as they walked in. The doors closed behind them. She heard the hidden locking mechanism activate.
“Let’s get a picture of your eye so that you can open the doors on your own. This is the most secure space in the building. The walls and doors are made from the best bullet-resistant material on the market.”
“What market? Not Walmart or Target.”
“No. But it is the best.”
She looked around the room, which was a blend of the brothers’ opposing tastes. Two desks sat opposite each other. “That’s yours.” She pointed to the glass and chrome desk and futuristic chair.
“It is.”
She turned to look at the other. That desk was dark mahogany with a tufted black leather chair. Very traditional. Very Scott.
