by Jeff Taylor
“That’s unacceptable,” she objected loudly. “I have spent a pile of time and money to get here, not to mention traveled thousands of miles to see my husband, and you’re only going to allow me fifteen minutes! I always knew you were cold but I didn’t think you were heartless.”
Strón seemed unfazed by her outburst. In fact, he was quite reserved given the insult to his character. He looked at her as if she were merely another of the many nuisances he dealt with every day. “Very well. Officer, you will escort this woman back to her ship. Her time here is over.”
Eve was dumbstruck. After all the effort arranging to be on the transport team and practically giving her life away to get the visitation order, he was going to dismiss her without so much as a blink? “How dare you?” she growled. Their hardened stares locked and for a moment she feared he wouldn’t back down. This was how it had always been. Their polar wills pressing against one another only to repulse the other away. Very rarely had they agreed on anything. In most cases one or the other would eventually give up and walk away, only to be at the disadvantage for the next argument. This time, Eve realized she had the lesser bargaining posture. He controlled what she wanted and giving into his rules was her only option.
“Fine,” she shouted when Officer Marne took her arm. “I’ll take the fifteen minutes.”
Strón nodded his approval then pressed the intercom button on the clear screen attached to the wall. “Bring him in.”
On the opposite side of the protective glass beside them, a lean, freshly shaved man emerged alongside a pair of black-clad guards. Tyrus Nelsonn, at long last, was finally within her view. Her joy overwhelmed her and she practically bounced at the sight of him. Strón was all but forgotten.
The warden turned so as not to see Nelsonn. He chose instead to keep his back to his former rival for her heart and moved toward the exit. Eve heard him leave, but chose to soak up her husband’s glowing smile rather than Strón’s retreating back. She pushed him from her mind and focused on Nelsonn so intently that when he silently disappeared out the sliding doors, she was unaware that he’d gone.
CHAPTER 11
DISCONTENT
A mist of rain beaded on the black sedan as it pulled up to the front entrance of Carsus Tower. Josephina Leniston was waiting impatiently just inside the double doors, her designer pumps tapping rapidly on the marble entryway. Pilan Ahkman spoke on a portable phone behind her, deeply agitated over something. “It will ruin us,” he was saying into the palm-sized device. Josephina turned toward him when the car came into view. He disconnected his call and eagerly put the phone back into his pocket as they exited the massive steel and translucent-glass building.
The weather was much colder than Ahkman had expected, but then again, the weather in Seattle was always cooler than what he was used to in Los Angeles. The city had never appealed to him, partly because of the weather, but mostly because he hated leaving the warmth of Southern California. Sun, surf, and his Aston Martin were the only pleasures in his life and his personality soured when deprived of those necessities. Thankfully, Josephina was the type of companion who understood his needs as well as where she fit in among them.
He flipped the collar of the heavy wool coat up around his slender neck and plunged his hands into its pockets. Jaun, now in his twentieth year as the Tower’s doorman produced an umbrella and handed it to Ahkman, who took it without a word of thanks or acknowledgment. He glanced over at his petite companion. “Ahmed is in,” he said.
“I’m not surprised. He’s had it in for Brill for years.”
Josephina’s dress coat covered her dark silk blouse and black pencil skirt without difficulty but her tanned legs and open-toed heels were exposed to the elements, not that she noticed. The cold never affected her. Indeed, Ahkman had always suspected that she hadn’t been born, but sculpted from ice. She seized his umbrella and raised it over her head. He followed her across the driveway to the waiting car.
The driver scurried from the cockpit and whisked the door open for the pair of power brokers. Ahkman waived him off and took his place holding the back passenger-side door while Leniston ducked into the safety of the car’s back seat. Pilan soon followed and slammed the freshly waxed metal door behind him. “I hate this town,” he said wiping the water from his bald, black head with a handkerchief.
“It’s not really so bad, once you get used to it,” came an unexpected reply.
Both Ahkman and Leniston looked up with a start. Sitting in the seat opposite them, with his back to the driver, was a feeble little man with slumping shoulders and a glare that seemed to have been carved by a harpy. His long nose and deep-set eyes gave him a hawkish countenance that made Ahkman feel like a trapped mouse about to become dinner. His suit was as dark as his soulless black eyes and his posture and British accent made him seem as polished as the ebony walking stick on the seat beside him, the chrome eagle atop it in his lap.
A thin smile cracked the solemn, wrinkled face as he reveled in their fearful reaction. Recovering from the initial shock of his presence, Ahkman rolled his eyes and leaned back into the cushioned leather interior. “Hello, Mylan,” he sighed.
“How have you been, Pilan?” the old man queried, knowing full well that they had all seen better days. “Anything new?”
Ahkman was not in the mood to deal with the man’s games or his mocking tone. He massaged his temples. “Don’t you have a carcass to pick clean?”
The old man chuckled at the insult, amused at first but then his expression turned deadly seriousness. He took the cane in his hand and leaned forward. “What happened?”
Ahkman stared at the roof of the car for a moment then met the intruder’s gaze, focusing on Mylan’s beady eyes. “An unforeseen roadblock, that’s all,” he said. “I am working on it.”
The old man huffed and slammed his surprisingly agile fist against the display console behind him. A chart materialized in the air between them, depicting two lines, one red and one blue, rising and falling as they progressed on the table. “Do you know how much we have lost by this failure?” he snarled. “Medes dropped fifty points when Kratin announced his partnership with ConSystems. Fifty points! Someone in my office mentioned the word bankruptcy today!”
Mylan Tackkert was quite possibly the most powerful businessman on the planet before the Con/Kratin merger. As the sole owner of the powerful Medes International and the last surviving heir to a vast family fortune, he had unlimited resources at his disposal. Yet he never tired of acquiring more. His vices were money and power. The more he gained, the more he wanted. It didn’t matter that he had already built his company up to rival Carsus Corp. He had to be the best, not just a competitor.
Ahkman only gave the chart a cursory glance. Leniston offered him a small crystal tumbler rattling with ice and a dark liquid. The harsh liquid burned in his throat as he forced it down. Typically, he enjoyed his afternoon drink and took his time savoring it after a hard day, but Tackkert’s presence agitated his already foul mood.
“I’m working on it,” Ahkman said with an edgy tone. “I am not going to let two years’ worth of planning go up in smoke. Most of the board is furious that he bought the company out from under them. They’ve hired an attorney to file an injunction and get the Feds investigating him for insider trading. I’ll fix this and when I’m done, you’re going to put me on your board and pay me an obscene sum of money.” He returned the old man’s fierce stare. “So why don’t you use your vast influence to do something useful.”
The old man sat silently, transfixed on the couple, his emotions masked by his steely stare. Ahkman had never been able to guess what he was thinking. He knew Tackkert was well connected but sincerely doubted that even he could stop what Brill and the Kratins had put into motion.
Caressing his cane with his withered, bony hands, Tackkert’s voice was raspy and frail, but the intensity in his aged eyes betrayed no sign of weakness. “It won’t happen,” he said. “You need a two-thirds majority from the boa
rd and you don’t have it. Besides,” he paused, “their profit projections are off the charts. Why would your board fight when they have so much to gain?”
Ahkman nearly dropped his glass as the car bounced over a pothole. “I’ll get it. And then you can crawl back into that hole of yours and disappear like a good rat.”
Tackkert wouldn’t be baited into an argument. The ancient little man leaned forward again, now clutching the black cane as if the bird atop it were trying to flee. “It doesn’t matter, anyhow. I’ve made other arrangements to handle the situation. Now, get out of my car.”
In the heat of their conversation, Ahkman hadn’t noticed that the car was now stopped, but even more disturbing was the fact that it wasn’t his.
“Now wait just a minute,” Ahkman shouted as a burly bodyguard opened his door. “You can’t put this all on me? I did everything I could to set this up. How was I to know that ‘Wonderboy’ and his piranha-daughter would swoop in to save the day? If anyone’s to blame, it’s that arrogant fossil Brill!”
Ahkman continued to protest, his face burning red, but his agitated words only encouraged Tackkert’s goon to remove him from the car more forcefully. Leniston helplessly resisted, glancing at the sky and then down at her shoes, an evident panic growing in her expression.
“You can’t just leave us on the curb. It’s pouring rain outside,” she protested. Ahkman knew she cared little about her own discomfort. It was the delicate, horrendously overpriced pumps on her tiny feet that drew her plea.
The smile on the old man’s weathered face reappeared as Ahkman and his consort were roughly tossed from the vehicle. “You should find some shelter. It looks damp out there,” Tackkert quipped, relishing the thought of abandoning them in the cold.
Ahkman sneered at him. He pointed at the old man and said, “This isn’t over.”
Tackkert was unimpressed. He chortled at the remark and bent his feeble back into the seat vacated by Ahkman.
“Oh, yes it is.”
With that said, he tapped the glass again and the car sped off, leaving a wet, pathetic-looking couple dripping bitterly on the side of the road.
As he stood in the downpour watching Tackkert’s car disappear, Ahkman pondered what had just happened. Being left in the rain was not as upsetting as the thought that someone else on the inside of Carsus was feeding Tackkert information. But who? He began mentally compiling a list of possible suspects.
“I can’t believe this,” Leniston complained beside him. “Call a cab, right now,” she demanded her eyes fixated on the delicate folds of fabric around her heels slowly absorbing the moisture falling around them.
He ignored her. How could he fix this? Did he even need to? Had Tackkert just shut the door on their deal? He refused to believe that. They had both sacrificed too much time and effort to abandon it now. Carsus Corp had to fall. Brill was the key. If he could somehow separate Nathaniel from Brill, and Brill from the board, maybe he would have a chance to make things right.
“Pilan! Are you even listening to me?”
Leniston’s voice grated on his ears. The frustration of the entire situation had him on edge and her griping irritated him more than usual.
“Shut up! Can’t you worry about something other than your shoes for once?!”
To his surprise, he was suddenly pulled down by the lapel of his coat until he was eye to eye with the diminutive Leniston. Fire burned in her eyes with an intensity that Ahkman had never seen before.
“What kind of an idiot are you?” she hissed through bared teeth. Her grip on his necktie was like iron. “You don’t think I know this is serious. I will not go down because some nobody got a little bit of power and threw it back in our face. We will fix this or I will never forgive you.”
To say he was surprised by her sudden force was an understatement. She had always been forceful in expressing her opinions but she had never physically exerted herself against anyone. It was a side of her he had never seen and he found himself surprisingly drawn to it.
Her stare locked on his face for an uncomfortable eternity. She was right. Too much was at stake; their money, their livelihoods, reputations, not to mention their futures, all hinged on the deal with Medes. They would fix this, together.
He gave her a sly smile and pressed his lips to hers. The warmth of her skin enticed him and he became oblivious to the raging storm around them. Their passion was short-lived, however, as a passing sport-utility vehicle rushed by, bathing the two of them in icy cold water as it drove through an oversized puddle. They both gasped from the shock. Ahkman roared.
“What else can go wrong?!”
He removed the phone from his soggy coat pocket and called Maro, their usual company driver, to come and take them home.
CHAPTER 12
DREAM
The view from Naitus Brill’s penthouse was not as spectacular as that of his office, but it still gave him a decent observation point of the city. As much as the morning sunrise soothed him, the sunset was equally refreshing. His demanding, self-imposed, work schedule, didn’t often allow him to enjoy the view of the vibrant city flowing like a river of light below. Normally, on those rare occasions when he was home at this hour, he would take time to admire the beauty of the celestial event. Tonight, however the view displayed on his windows and walls was a lifeless expanse of desert hundreds of miles away.
Brill could still feel the horrendous heat bearing down on his hardened face. The trek there had been exhausting, but the result had left him exhilarated. Earlier that morning, he, Nathaniel and Tina Kratin, and a few members of the Carsus hierarchy boarded a pair of Con’s luxury heli-jets and headed east toward the ConSystems facilities, which were now part of the Carsus Empire. After seizing control of Carsus, Nathaniel and his friend Volkor Con immediately merged the two companies, boosting the stock of both firms substantially. It was just the live-saving venture Brill knew Nathaniel would breathe into his company.
As they traveled to the site, Brill paid little attention to the landscape blurring beneath them. The metropolises of San Francisco and California’s capital city retreated behind them, followed by the pristine waters of Lake Tahoe, and then Carson City. Soon the jet slowed and Brill got his first look at the future of his company rising from the barren Nevada desert.
Sprouting from the blistering horizon were a dozen structures, four of which loomed larger as the jets drew nearer. Each one was similar in design to the others but they ranged widely in dimensions. The six smaller buildings were used to house the facility’s crew and administration as well as other smaller projects in various stages of development. They had nothing that interested Brill. But the four behemoths dominating the skyline beside them held his attention.
The enormity of these buildings left Brill awestruck. The tallest of the structures rose five hundred feet from the desert floor. Its base sprawled for nearly a mile. He had never seen anything so monstrous as these titans. Now hours later, he pulled up the image of the complex on his screen and marveled once more at its size.
Pryna Zyn had given him access to the images of the trip as a gift and Brill was more than grateful. Alongside the images scrolled an assortment of facts and statistics, running down the left side of each image in a column as they displayed on the screen. Many of the facts were nothing more than trivia contrived for impressing potential investors; on-site production of automated drone craft for the military and law enforcement, special mission pods for astronauts which could be adapted for undersea exploration, even design specs for state-of-the-art firefighting aircraft. Each “breakthrough” was obsolete as far as the technology was concerned but the descriptions and presentation were nonetheless effective, successfully convincing thousands of investors to throw their money at the company.
What those investors were not told, surprisingly, were the details of the four projects under development beneath the large domed buildings at the center of the complex.
“Show me, Precursor I,” he ordered. The screen
complied, replacing the desert with a view of a massive, bulbous, blue-green wedge.
The memory of this massive experiment loomed like Everest in his mind.
“The Precursor will be the keystone of our Martian mission,” he recalled Con saying when the group had first been introduced to it. In development for nearly a decade, the ship would be the largest space vehicle ever assembled. Over a hundred meters tall, its four gargantuan fusion engines would propel it and a crew of eight hundred people toward the Red Planet in anticipation of a permanent civilian colony. It would become the epicenters of the impending emigrant tsunami that would sweep over Earth’s rust-colored brother.
Con had chosen the name Precursor for the series of ships (the one Brill had seen was Precursor I) that would be a part of the program he’d devised for exploring and settling beyond the inner planets of the solar system. He wanted each ship to be a symbol of what humanity could accomplish once it established its foothold in space. Precursor I was the first step in that plan. Its first assignment would be to leave behind a series of circular probes aligned en route to Mars. These probes would make it possible for other ships to quickly “jump” to Mars by creating a hyperspace conduit that would bend space-time around any future craft traveling toward the red planet by creating a custom-made wormhole. The technology was radical and Con knew that he could never have hoped to achieve it without Carsus backing him. With their merger, he would now have the most valuable resource needed to lure the world’s top physicists onto the project; obscene amounts of money. Once his team was fully assembled, a working model of the conduits would not be far behind.
Three years after the initial settlement, another ship, Precursor V, which was under construction in orbit due to its incredible size, would begin transporting larger numbers of colonists to the new world. The ships would become permanent fixtures of Mars once they touched down at their designated landing areas forming the backbone of the colony. It would become the central node of settlement, providing an administrative seat for the communities which would branch out around them.
