by Jeff Taylor
Papa Carlo di Ricci looked firmly at Nathaniel while holding his daughter’s hand, then averted his eyes as he spoke. “When I heard of your new position I thought that maybe, after all this time, I had misjudged you. Seeing what you have done and how you have provided for my family, I thought, perhaps, that I should come and congratulate you on your special night. But of course, I have come uninvited and if you wish me to go . . .” One foot was already out the door ready to retreat.
“No!” cried both Kratins, one more emphatically than the other. Jilliana’s hand clamped tightly around her father’s brown, spotted wrist.
“Please,” Nathaniel said, “please stay. We would be glad to have you.”
From his post just outside the parlor door, Brill could see that Nathaniel was genuinely touched by the patriarch’s softened heart.
“Dear, why don’t you escort your father inside? I can think of two girls in there who would be simply overjoyed to see him. I can finish things up here.”
Without any protest, Jilliana linked her milky arm with her father’s. “This way, Papi,” Jilliana said. “Tina’s over there.”
The pair paraded through the foyer toward the parlor on the east side of the vast residence. Brill’s hard stare followed their promenade closely until they drew nearer to him. It wasn’t long until the elder di Ricci returned his emotionless gaze with one of his own. When they were within inches of each other, Brill’s head rocked forward slightly in recognition of the other man. Di Ricci coldly returned the gesture and then ignored Brill completely thereafter. The Carsus founder smiled at the Italian’s response. You don’t know it yet, but you just saved my company.
The room was filled to capacity. Family, friends, and fellow shareholders had gathered to celebrate Nathaniel’s election as the president and CEO of Carsus Corporation. All the senior board members were in attendance, along with a few other dignitaries, such as two congressmen, a mayor, a former president of the national labor union, and several academics. Even the ambassador from South Africa was there with his entourage.
Choosing to remain just outside the room, Brill surveyed the crowd. On the opposite side of the room, standing near the large bay window was Kratin’s good friend, Dantral Brahlim. Brahlim was accepting congratulations of his own. With the restructuring of the board, he had been elected as the new chairman. Brill smirked. They were going to make quite the team, Nathaniel and Brahlim.
The two men had been roommates during their undergraduate studies and both thought very highly of one another, professionally and personally. In fact, Brahlim considered Nathaniel the most genuine and honest man he’d ever known. Brill was very aware of that history and he knew the future success of the company may depend on the strength of their relationship.
With this in mind, Brill observed the two friends as Nathaniel entered and veered straight to his friend. The pair stood together at the fore of the room. Benunce Fridman, Nathaniel’s fiercest competition in the voting, interrupted their conversation, a rare smile on her thin, pallid face. They spoke congenially, even engaging in a few brief moments of laughter. She’d had a strong backing on the board and many members held out for her as both president and chairperson. Nathaniel smartly recognized her value as a potential ally and had extended his hand after the board adjourned, asking for her help and inviting her to the evening’s festivities, not as an attempt to gloat but to cultivate an amicable relationship. Already moving in the right direction, Brill thought with no small amount of pride. Watching the trio engage, Brill had to admit that her backless maroon dress suited her long, slender frame and short boy-cut hairstyle. She actually appeared like a woman for a change.
“Well done my, boy,” a familiar voice said from behind Brill seconds before a hard slap on his right shoulder blade nearly knocked him off his cane. Brill winced in pain and snarled at the sudden assault. He spun around to confront his attacker. A thick, red-faced man with a smile as wide as his shoulders beamed proudly at the elder Brill. His loud, boisterous greeting was followed by another firm pat on the shoulder. “I couldn’t be prouder of you getting him on the board like you did. It took real courage to put up an outsider as the front man.”
Brill recoiled once more as another blow landed home. He fought the urge to hurl every curse he’d ever uttered in the man’s direction, but his good sense and political savvy restrained him.
“Thank you so much, Senator Marshall,” he grimaced, taking the senator’s hand in his with a solid grip.
The senator leaned in and said, jovially, “I think we’ve known each other long enough for you to call me Jack, Naitus.”
Brill stiffened at the sound of his own name. As much business as the two men had transacted over the years he did not consider the senator a friend.
“Sure thing, Jack,” was his forced reply. “Nathaniel is right over there,” he said, trying to focus the senator one someone else besides him. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
The senator good-naturedly took the hint. “You bet he will. See you later Brilly Boy,” he said, as another hearty slap connected with Brill’s back.
That’s it. I’m cutting our campaign contribution next election, Brill mentally commented as the large Texan sauntered through the crowd, greeting every person between him and Nathaniel as if they were old friends.
The senator had been Nathaniel’s favorite professor at Harvard and the two had cultivated a special relationship over the years. He was the father figure Nathaniel had never known; kind, supportive, and unwaveringly driven. When he set his mind to something he didn’t back down until he got it. In many ways, Nathaniel mirrored his mentor’s determination and credited his professor for the man he had become.
Brill watched the senator work the room while he advanced toward Nathaniel. It was amazing to observe the amiable politician. His ability to make people feel so at ease while discussing difficult, complex topics was extraordinary. He was highly intelligent but did not come across as scholarly or arrogant. When he spoke, Brill thought of the old adage about being able to catch more flies with honey than vinegar. These polished skills of persuasion were exactly the reason Brill had approached him about sponsoring the legislation for the Apollo Prison those many years ago. Without his political wizardry, the prison would have only been another hole on the lunar surface.
Brill’s gaze stayed fixed on the senator and watched as he and Nathaniel embraced in a firm bear hug. He was so entranced in the friends greeting each other that he did not notice the ghostly stealth of the couple approaching him from behind.
“Good evening, Mr. Brill,” a deep, metallic voice greeted.
The hollow, unnatural sound made Brill start. The incredibly delicate and expensive champagne flute in his hands crashed to the floor and Brill grabbed at his chest. His heartbeat increased ten-fold. Unlike the senator’s warm, inviting bellow, this voice was cold, almost serpentine with an unearthly quality that chilled Brill to the bone.
“Excuse me, Mr. Brill. I did not mean to surprise you.”
Shaking like a leaf in a tornado, Brill turned slightly and saw out of the corner of his eye a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a pitch-black tunic and a similarly shaded robe with red trim draped over his right shoulder. The bright parlor lights reflected sharply off the dark figure’s almond-shaped helmet that began beneath his chin and came to a point above the crown, completely encasing his head in a chrome shell. Brill’s alarm instantly turned to annoyance as he recognized the masked figure.
“Con!” he snarled. “How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?”
The masked man bowed slightly, his voice muffled and reverberating. “I am terribly sorry. Let me help you get this cleaned up.” A gloved hand signaled one of the servers who were bustling about distributing refreshments. Luckily, one had heard the crash and was soon dabbing at the red and gold area rug beneath their feet.
Brill scowled. Volkor Con always seemed to catch him off guard. He wasn’t sure if it was the coal-like
attire or the heart that matched it, but something about the man had always disturbed Brill. Con and Nathaniel had been best friends since childhood. In fact, Nathaniel often introduced him as his brother. They had grown up in the same foster home until Con’s adoption at the age of fifteen. Before then they were inseparable and ever since they took every opportunity to see one another when their schedules allowed.
Con had gone on to build a successful aerospace business that held the contract for Carsus Corp’s lunar shuttles. His wife, Pryna Zyn, the blonde woman standing beside him now, was his complete opposite. She was warm, friendly, and vivacious; someone people enjoyed being with, as well as a brilliant chemist who had made billions selling her formulas from her lunar experiments to the pharmaceutical world. Nathaniel approved of her immediately as the only person good enough for his “brother.” Tonight, she was as elegant as always, dressed in a sleeveless charcoal dress with a velvet overlay of some kind of bird, a raven perhaps, descending from her bust down her left side. Her light red lipstick blended perfectly with her tanned skin and soft eye makeup.
The couple had wed and lived a ridiculously charmed life until one day nearly five years ago. As a member of the U.N.’s delegation on human rights, Con had been a part of the group assigned to accompany the European Union’s president to tour what was believed to be a Chinese weapons facility. He was just walking into the main offices, uncharacteristically late, when a massive explosion, engineered by Tyrus Nelsonn, ripped the place apart, killing hundreds of people. Miraculously, Con was spared his life, but physically he was severely damaged. Forty-eight operations later, he was whole with prosthetic limbs that gave him the strength of twenty men. His organs had been regrown to pristine condition and his facial scarring was restored with flawless accuracy. But as time wore on, the physical scars were not the problem. Emotionally Con never recovered from the attack. He saw himself as a monster; half-man, half-machine. He believed he was an abomination and hid his features behind a glistening chrome mask etched with parallel crimson slits rising from beneath his chin, up to his eyes, and around his head like a demonic halo. His usually vibrant wardrobe was replaced with full body tunics of gray and black.
The mask was a product of his genius. Initially, it had been designed as a pilot’s helmet. Constructed of the highest-grade materials, it allowed the wearer extraordinarily enhanced vision including x-ray, infra-red scanning, and thousand-times magnification, not to mention instant access to several private and public databases synced in real time with merely a thought, without any unnecessary movements or commands. However magnificent it was, the mask failed to restore the self-confidence Con lost.
“I thought you were going to be in Sao Paolo this week,” Brill said irritably, dabbing at the spilled champagne on his suit. “Weren’t you going to close a deal with that parts manufacturer?”
The metallic voice resonated once more. “I told them I had another offer I wanted to consider and that I would contact them in twenty-four hours. A complete lie, but we wouldn’t have missed this party for anything.”
“Good for you,” Brill replied dryly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” His hand, still shaking from Con’s unexpected entrance, gripped his cane aggressively and hobbled toward the impromptu stage beneath the large picture window to his right. Nathaniel would be making his announcement soon and he wanted to be in prime position to hear it.
The socializing continued for another half an hour before Nathaniel gathered his family to the hastily constructed platform at the front of the room. After several failed attempts to catch the crowd’s attention, Brill grew impatient and burst out “Shut it!”
The din of conversation lowered to a mild whisper and Nathaniel began to speak, his eyes bright with pleasure.
“Thank you, everyone, for being here,” he began. “This truly is a special occasion for not only my family and I, but for the Carsus Corporation itself.”
A few people in the crowd raised their glasses and said, “Here, here,” in affirmation.
“With your help, I know that we will make this company even greater than it was before.”
Boisterous applause and cheers rose from the merry onlookers. The reserved Brill mildly clapped along. No need to get worked up yet. The best part was apart to come.
“I wish to thank the board for placing this trust in me and my abilities,” he said, raising his champagne glass. “To the board,” he toasted.
Those in the room not on the board repeated the toast, nodding to the members of the managing body. This time Brill merely smiled, as warmly as he could and accepted their applause.
“I would be extremely ungrateful,” Nathaniel continued, “if I didn’t acknowledge the three most important women in my life, and my wife and daughters too.” The crowd chuckled. “Seriously,” Nathaniel continued, “I would be adding receipts and eating ramen in some third world country were it not for the support and encouragement of my beautiful wife, Jilliana.” Jilliana blushed at the vigorous approval of the crowd. “And a father could not be prouder than I am at the incredible abilities and talents my Tina and Julia have given the world. In fact, we just found out today that Julia will be on next month’s cover of Form magazine.”
Brill had only heard the name of the magazine but understood that it was one of the premier fashion periodicals in the world. Being on the cover was enough to make any model’s career. Nathaniel had a right to be proud as he bent down to kiss his blushing daughter on the cheek. He let her bask in her moment before continuing.
“As for Tina,” he paused, meeting his oldest daughter’s sea-green eyes, “although just as lovely as her sister, her strengths lie more in the lion’s den than on the catwalk. Which is why I will be bringing her with me when I report to corporate headquarters next week. I know she will serve the company well and we will be very fortunate to have her.”
A smattering of applause meagerly approved. Though no one wished her ill, Brill could feel the apprehension at the thought of her place in the company.
“But her involvement will be more than what you are probably expecting.” Nathaniel met Brill’s expectant eyes as he thought about his next choice of words. “Last night, through the generous support of some family and friends, especially from my father-in-law, Mr. Carlo di Ricci, Tina was able to purchase a substantial amount of Carsus stock, including the managing shares owned by my benefactor, Mr. Naitus Brill. Monday morning, she will be joining our organization as the new vice-president of operations, and replacing Mr. Brill on the board.”
A collective gasp rose from the crowd, offsetting the cheers and shouts of praise erupting from the Kratin family friends. Brill felt the eyes of every board member boring into the back of his head.
“I know this comes as a surprise to many of you,” Nathaniel continued. “But let me assure you, I have no intention of removing Mr. Brill from his involvement with the company. Though he will no longer be a member of the board he will still maintain his presence there as my advisor and confidant with just as much authority as he ever had. He and I both have the utmost confidence that Tina will serve admirably and be an asset to all of us.”
This assurance was comforting to no one but Brill. A curious glance over his shoulder revealed a stone-silent Ahkman and Josephina Leniston glaring resolutely at the new CEO. Brill couldn’t help but smile at his furious colleague.
Nathaniel seemed ready to conclude when a red-vested servant approached the platform and whispered something in his ear. The genial expression Nathaniel had worn all evening faded and was replaced with a look of confusion and, was it, fear? He awkwardly thanked everyone for coming, directed them to the dining room then excused himself with more haste than Brill imagined he wanted to show. The old man forced his way through the crowd and intercepted Nathaniel just before they reached the parlor exit.
“What is it?” Brill pressed, halting Nathaniel’s advance.
“I don’t know,” Nathaniel whispered. The police are here.”
CHAPTER 5
SEARCH
The freckled doorman shifted nervously from one foot to the other, anxiously glancing at the parlor door waiting to be rescued. Repeatedly, he examined the transparent datapad trying to make sense of what to do with it. The young man, who couldn’t have been much older than eighteen, was clueless about what to do with the group of police officers and FBI agents towering over him. No doubt it was his first search warrant, Strinnger assumed. Were he in San Francisco, Detective Strinnger would have been more patient with the terrified youth, but seeing as how he was almost seven hundred miles away from home, he felt little deference for the boy’s predicament.
Forced to wait for the resident of the house, Strinnger could not help but notice the mansion’s grandeur. It was larger than any home he had ever seen, in fact, it was larger than most buildings he’d ever been in. His small, three-room apartment would have fit comfortably inside the rapidly filling dining room to his left. The radiant crystal chandelier sparkled as the sun over the foyer, illuminating the vast majority of the first floor. Directly ahead was a magnificent staircase rising from the floor like a mythical oak, branching out along the walnut paneling, encasing the upper floors. The lush red and gold highlights woven within the light fixtures and furniture created a warm, yet decadent feeling that Strinnger was almost hesitant to invade.
He was not there as a tourist, though. The warrant the young doorman gawked at had taken a great deal of effort. He simply wanted to do the search and get back San Francisco. The reports from the forensics team had convinced him Schulaz was a victim of a murder, but he needed some more answers. The search of the Carsus offices and Schulaz’ immense San Francisco apartment revealed nothing other than the victim was a collector of expensive impressionist art. But that wasn’t what Strinnger wanted to find. He desperately needed to know who this Donna woman was.
