He turned to face Peter, who was sitting in the usual position to his left, ready to take the minutes. “They’re going to get me this time, Peter.”
Peter looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t count on it. They’re all bluff and bluster. They’ve had you on the ropes before and never managed to bring you down.”
“This might be the day. Too much baggage. Too much politics. Too many ex-wives diluting my stock holding, waiting for their turn to help stick the knife in one last time.”
Peter sighed. “You might be okay. Hit them hard from the outset, draw your line in the sand and force them to cross it. It’s the only chance.”
Ernest nodded and turned back to the table. He arranged his papers as the boardroom door opened and the rest of the board filed in, escorted by Ernest’s secretary. He kept his face blank and didn’t say anything. His few allies on the board would know how dire things were and he saw no need to give his enemies an advantage.
“Thanks, everyone.” Peter paused as the others settled. “I confirm that we have a quorum and that the board meeting is open.”
Ernest looked around the room absentmindedly as Peter recalled the minutes from the previous meeting. He knew that a challenge would come today. He could feel it. But he didn’t know who’d have the balls to do it. This situation was as fluid as it was professionally deadly. He had a list of suspects, but only time would tell.
The two most senior and most obvious candidates were Steve Wilson, who’d sat on the board for a decade, and Dan Grattan, the Chief Operating Officer. Neither liked him much, but they didn’t feel right. Ernest was certain that the challenge would come from one of the lesser lights, preordained by the others. He readied himself.
“So, if there are no objections to the minutes, we’ll endorse them and move on.”
“Okay, thanks, Peter. I just want to note that we’ve got some people missing or deceased.” Ernest cleared his throat. “Now, the first order of business is—”
“Sorry for interrupting, Ernest.” Al Preston leaned forward. “I’ve got an extraordinary motion burning a hole in my pocket.”
Ernest waved a hand. “Let’s hear it then.”
Preston seemed slightly taken aback. “Well, thing is, a few of us believe the time might have come for you to stand aside, Ernest. Voluntarily, if possible.”
Ernest laughed boisterously for several long seconds. “A half-assed appeal to my better judgment, Al? Fuck your beliefs, you’ll need to do better than that.”
Preston looked shocked, and momentarily lost his composure. “Ernest, please, it doesn’t need to be like—”
“Sure, it does. I gave your father his place on this board, rest his soul, and I did the same for you. I’ll drop dead before I step down for you. Now shut up.”
Ernest sat back and grinned as murmurs and sideways glances were shared by the other eighteen board members. They obviously hadn’t expected him to be so belligerent, and he thought for a second that Preston’s plea might be it. Peter’s advice to hit them hard and early might have worked.
He noticed movement to his left. He looked and felt his confidence and bluster vanish in a second as Duncan McColl, the EMCorp Chief Financial Officer—and one of Ernest’s closest friends—stood. He had a somber expression on his face and wouldn’t look at Ernest.
“Of all people, Duncan, I thought you’d be solid.”
“I'm sorry, Ernest.” McColl started to pace. “I’ve been here nearly as long as you. And I’ve always been silent on the issues you’ve walked us into, but it’s time.”
Ernest said nothing as McColl walked behind each board member. It was a tactic Ernest liked to employ himself from time to time, because it put people off guard, and now McColl was copying it. He’d have laughed at the absurdity of it all if the situation wasn’t so dire.
“We can’t have it, Ernest. The newspaper arm of the company is dying, the United Kingdom is a mess, there are new scandals by the day and our share price is bleeding. We could handle all that, we really could, but now there’s to be a US Senate inquiry as well? You’ve put the United States operations at risk. It’s over. We ask again—”
“Judas!” Ernest shouted.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was ready for an attack by any of these other plebeians, Duncan, and just about ready to turn my back and let them sink the knife in. But you?”
“I don't do this lightly, Ernest. But given the troubles we’re sailing into, it’s with the greatest respect and sincerity that—”
“Oh, fuck your sincerity!” Ernest slammed the table with both fists, causing his coffee to spill over his papers. He turned to Peter. “What’s my total shareholding?”
Peter was matter of fact. “Between your personal holdings and the trust for your daughter, about thirty-seven percent. Add in your wife and it jumps to forty.”
“Well, there you have it. In short, gentlemen, I’ve got you all by the short and curly hairs.” He looked to the only female board member. “Sorry, Janice.”
McColl was unrepentant, but seemed slightly crestfallen. “Ernest, be reasonable. Think of what’s best for the company.”
“I've been doing that for the past thirty-five years, Duncan, and I've survived longer than many of the doomsayers who’ve sat in these very chairs, telling me how wrong I was. If you’re so fucking confident, then call a spill, and let’s see who the shareholders back. Here’s the rub, though: I’ve got a fair head start.”
McColl shook his head. “Are you so confident that you're right again? That you’re not going to annihilate this company with your little tantrum?”
Ernest laughed. “Not in the slightest, but I've earned the right to find out. We’re going to stay the course, stare down these inquiries, and emerge on the other side.”
McColl looked up and down the table, clearly seeking the support of his co-conspirators to carry the argument further. When none materialized, he sat down. Ernest could tell his CFO was crushed. Despite his anger, he felt regret at what was to come.
“I thank you all for the faith placed in me.” His voice was cold. “I’d like to adjourn for five minutes, given the drama. But before we do, Duncan, your services as CFO will no longer be required, and I’d ask that you step down from the board as well.”
McColl’s head shot up and he looked around the table. When nobody defended him, his nostrils flared. “This is an outrage! I only prosecuted the case you wanted me to. Now you're too gutless to speak in my favor.”
“That’ll be all, Duncan.”
McColl spat into the middle of the table. “I resign.”
As McColl stormed from the room, Ernest turned to Peter and spoke softly. “Thank you, Peter. I can’t believe I nearly let myself be done in by these puffed-up cowards.”
“It's fine. Besides, don't thank me until you've seen the cost of that suit you promised to replace. It's beautiful.”
Ernest laughed. “Better sell the Bentley.”
Chen sighed with exhaustion as he searched his pockets for his keys. He’d left Shanghai without incident following the attacks, and after a stopover in Osaka, he’d arrived home in Taipei. The indirect route had been a precaution, but now he wanted to kiss his wife, hug his children and reacquaint himself with his pillow. He was sure he’d sleep for days.
When he opened the door of his apartment he was surprised by the darkness and silence that welcomed him. The house should have been abuzz with the sounds of his children playing and the smells of his wife’s cooking. He flicked on the light switch.
“Hello?”
There was no response. He stepped further inside and looked around. There was no hint of anyone, but also no sign of a struggle or disturbance. It took him a few minutes to check the other rooms—bedroom, bathroom, living room. His family had either gone out for the night or disappeared into thin air.
Their abscene wasn’t right. His wife was a homebody. She liked spending time in the house with their two children. The situation was so unusual th
at Chen nearly considered calling his mother-in-law. He climbed the stairs to the living room and sank into the sofa with a deep sigh.
It was then that he saw an envelope on the coffee table. He reached over and picked it up. He considered it, checked it front and back, but there was nothing to indicate who it was from. He hesitated for just a second, then shrugged and opened it. Inside was a slip of paper with two words written on it.
Call M.D.
He stared at it, and struggled to link the disappearance of his family with the message. He needed to get to the bottom of it, so he pulled out his burner cell phone and dialed the emergency number he’d memorized. The phone rang for a long time, and Chen thought it would ring out. Finally, she answered.
“About fucking time.” Michelle Dominique’s voice was terse.
Chen was taken aback by her tone. “My plane was delayed in Osaka.”
She seemed unrepentant. “Whatever. You’re lucky you’re not dead or stranded.”
“Stranded where?”
“Taiwan. China. East fucking Asia. Who cares?”
“Why?”
“You've been compromised.” He could hear the doubt in her voice. “There’s probably a team on their way to you.”
The phrase struck at Chen’s confidence like a hammer. He’d been sure that he’d carried out his operation flawlessly. “How? I was assured that wouldn’t happen.”
“Doesn't matter. We've already extracted your family.”
Chen was shocked. “They went willingly?”
“Not exactly. Your wife has a nice bruise, I hear. Couldn't be avoided.”
His anger flashed. “If you’ve hurt them—”
“Relax. I sent a team to get you and your family out safely. You weren’t there. I could have abandoned them, and you, and you'd all be dead. I got them out. Remember that.”
“I want to see them.”
“Look, you’re not getting it. Anton sold you out. He sold me out too. I’m risking my life for yours. Now get with the fucking program and go to the airport.”
Chen took a deep breath. “I understand, and thank you. I will repay your service to my family, and I’ll express my displeasure with Mr Clark in person.”
“Worry about that later. Now go.”
He ended the call, opened the back of the phone and removed the SIM card. He put the phone in his pocket and snapped the SIM card in half. Standard procedure, as automatic to him as breathing. He thought about the ramifications of the call. He’d been compromised by Anton. His family was gone, but probably safe.
He exhaled. Things were okay, but he had to move. Chen knew it was only a matter of time before they were knocking on his door. He needed to get to the airport.
He rushed to the bedroom and went to the bedside table. He opened the bottom drawer, lifted it from its runner and pulled it out completely. He looked into the gap where he’d hidden his kit. There were enough false identity papers, money and contacts contained within that small hiding space to last a great many years. He stacked the cash in one pile on the bed. Next to it he stacked the IDs and a few other things he needed.
He left the handgun and first aid supplies behind, because neither could be easily loaded onto a commercial flight. Satisfied he had all that was helpful, he reached under the bed and found his small carry-on case. He stuffed the money and the documents inside, covered them with clothes and zipped the lid closed. He replaced the drawer, then hefted the small case and walked to the front door.
He knew this was the last time he’d see this place, where his children were conceived and raised. He knew he’d never hug his wife inside these walls again.
He had a heavy heart, but no choice. It was time to go.
7
Taipei has descended into panic following the launch of a Chinese rocket over the island of Taiwan. The rocket, launched from the Chinese mainland, was captured on film by dozens of citizens before it landed in the ocean south of the island. Locals are taking it as a sign of China’s rage at the Shanghai attacks, and their claims of Taiwanese involvement. The Taiwanese Government, meanwhile, has denied all links to the attacks, and has appealed for the diplomatic support of the international community to avert war.
Sanjay Pahani, The Times of India, September 6
Jack walked along the main pier of the American naval base at Yokosuka, escorted by a burly Marine sergeant. The man had said nothing for the five-minute walk, which Jack was thankful for—it was about all he wanted to hear right now. The port was alive with activity as many of the berthed naval vessels were readied for sea. Jack had stopped several times to gawk at the aircraft carrier USS George Washington and its accompanying ships, and each time the sergeant had waited with his hands folded behind his back.
As they reached the gangplank of the carrier, the sergeant led him to a large man in an officer’s uniform, who was looking up at the ship. “I have Mr Emery, Admiral.”
The officer turned to them and returned the sergeant’s salute with a lazy wave. The sergeant turned on his heel and walked away.
“Mr Emery? I’m so sorry to hear about your wife.” Jack was taken aback by the Admiral’s thick southern accent. He was old, but had a certain bearing and a lot of decorations on his chest. “I’m Carl McCulloch, commander of this here procession.”
Jack shook the other man’s hand. “Thanks for the kind words and pleasure to meet you, sir. I appreciate you meeting me, but I could have found my way. I’m sure you’ve got more important work to do.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” McCulloch jerked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the ocean. “I earn my living out there. In port, I’ve got staff to do everything as long as I bark loud enough. Besides, half the point of this expedition is to give the folks back home a look-see in the region. I can only do that through you, so you’re my new best friend.”
Jack was surprised that McCulloch was being so candid. Usually embeds were spoon-fed content by the Pentagon press corps, but the admiral’s admission showed how worried the United States was about the situation unfolding between China and Taiwan. It seemed that his coverage from aboard the carrier was as important to the flag-waving mission as the ships and crew themselves. It gave him leverage. Jack liked that.
Jack nodded toward the aircraft carrier. “Quite an impressive display, Admiral.”
“Sure is. Worth more zeroes than you can count and can do whatever we need doing.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’ll inflame the situation?”
McCulloch shrugged and turned, gesturing for Jack to follow him aboard the ship. “Tough question. Off the record? If China make a proper job of attacking the Taiwanese, we’re in the game anyway. We’re not trying to provoke the Chinese. Hell, this sort of thing has often worked in the past to help keep the peace.”
Jack laughed as he walked alongside McCulloch. “Keep the peace? By sailing a fleet past their front door?”
“Sounds crazy, and I understand the skepticism, but the balance of power in this region is fragile.” McCulloch turned down a hallway. “China, Taiwan, South Korea and Japan all have legitimate fears and grievances at the best of times.”
“Nothing so bad as half of Shanghai being blown up, I’d think.”
“You’d be surprised, son. The folk in this region don’t forget easily. They still hold grudges from centuries ago. It's our job to mediate and be the counterweight to too much ambition on any one side. The policy has worked for half a century.”
“Surely the Chinese understand it’s not Taiwan’s fault. Despite the bit of evidence that has trickled out, it seems capital-S stupid.”
“Speculation isn’t my business.” McCulloch shrugged. “Who knows? But the State Department thinks that things are different now. China and Taiwan have been cautiously friendly for the last few years, but that’s gone—Shanghai changed everything. China blames the island, and they’re going to keep flexing some muscle. That’s why we just need to cool everyone down.”
Jack wasn�
��t sure he believed the premise that more guns equaled less likelihood of conflict. “Guess we’ll have to see.”
“Damn right.”
They walked in silence through the maze of long corridors, Jack doubted he’d be able to find his way back to the deck. As they went deeper into the ship, junior sailors stood to the side and saluted.
Eventually they reached a door and McCulloch paused in front of it. “Here we are, Mr Emery. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a fleet to get moving.”
“Of course, Admiral, appreciate the chat.”
“Welcome aboard the George Washington. We’ll catch up once we’re underway and you’re settled in a bit.” McCulloch turned and walked away.
Jack opened the heavy steel door and stepped inside his quarters. He was immediately taken aback by the sight of Celeste Adams seated on the bed. While he’d known that she’d be here, he was shocked at how she looked. Her face was covered in grazes and scratches, and her left arm was in a sling. She smiled at him.
He put his bag down in the doorway and approached her. “Looks like you’ve seen better days.”
“Hi, Jack.” She stood and held her one good arm out. He was surprised when she put the arm around him. “Thought you could use a friendly face once you got aboard.”
He recoiled instinctively from the contact, but she persisted. He gave in and put his arms around her as well. He held her loosely, awkwardly, not sure what was expected. In truth, he wished it was Erin he was holding, despite their issues. He wondered for the first time if agreeing to work on board the carrier was a mistake.
Eventually, after she pulled away and looked at him, he fumbled for words before the moment became awkward. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
“You're glad I'm alive?” Celeste’s laughter broke the tension. “Erin told me you were strange at times, Jack, but come on.”
[Jack Emery 01.0] The Foundation Page 6
