by JB Sanders
Tyler laughed. "Really, if they knew how much work breaking up this thing was, they wouldn't think that. And if I'd wanted attention, I could have just spent that money airing a commercial on every network around the world for the next two years. Seriously, I calculated it."
"So why did you do it?"
Tyler sobered up, and leaned forward. "Like I told the men of the King's Club, my sacrifice was pretty small compared to how this could have gone down. If they hadn't been stopped, if their reach had extended even farther, it would have taken a world war to stop this mess. I thought that my money, time and sweat -- even a little bullet dodging there at the end -- was a far better price to pay than the lives of men and women, soldiers, who would have had to pay the ultimate price."
Brian nodded thoughtfully. "I understand you also found a cache of Nazi gold and looted art?"
"We did, yes." Tyler tapped the table. "Our foundation is working to return the art to its rightful owners, and to see that the money goes to the remaining holocaust survivors."
"Remarkable work, gentlemen. Thanks for your time."
"Thanks for having us on, Brian."
***
In between interviews, Tyler made a personal video call.
"Oh, hey Tyler." Jeb Storm said.
"Hey, Jeb." Tyler waved. Glen waved, too, though he also shot Tyler an acerbic eyebrow.
Tyler shrugged back at him. He knew Glen was a little annoyed about how Tyler was so chummy with Storm, particularly after the way Tyler had mooned over Storm in college. Ok, the way Tyler had mooned over him in a totally platonic, non-sexual kind of way, since at the time Glen and Tyler had both still were completely oblivious about their feelings for each other.
Glen wasn't really that annoyed with Tyler about Jeb, but the bedroom roleplaying possibilities for later were greatly enhanced if Glen looked a little angry now.
Jeb looked between them. "What's up? My folks treating you alright?"
"Oh yeah, great. I'm glad we didn't have to have our computer whizzes try to get anything past your computer whizzes -- those kinds of pissing matches never end well." Tyler rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to give you a personal thanks, and an apology about not following up with you in person. Things went a little crazy there at the end."
Jeb shrugged and looked away from the screen. "No problem. I know you're at the center of a media hurricane right now. You're the number one topic of conversation on the internet right now."
"Yeah, that's going to get old quick. Should I ask if it's positive or negative?"
"Oh both, but you're trending at seventy-eight percent positive right now. On Socially Yours, anyway."
"Well, that's something. So look, Jeb, I want to do something for you, something more than just the favor I owe you. What would you say to a week at a very private resort, tropical sand, beaches, the works?"
Jeb shrugged. "Those are fun, sure. Though I don't tan so well. But, I could go anywhere I want."
"Not where I have in mind."
"Oh?"
"It's my island, I'll be there -- which hopefully is a plus -- and it's more private than any resort you can imagine."
Jeb gave him a slow smile. "Well, ok, but only because I've been thinking of getting my own island and I want to window shop yours. But ah -- I have a board meeting, and some corporate stuff I can't duck, so it'll have to be the end of the week."
"Super!" Tyler grinned. "We'll keep the beer cold."
***
"What channel are we on next?" Glen adjusted his tie, and then wiggled his bare toes in the carpeting. Being interviewed via satellite meant you could go pants-less and sock-less -- but not underwear-less, there were sometimes technicians on their end. It was a lot more amusing this way.
Tyler rubbed a hand through his hair, which went back to looking perfect again, the jerk. "Uh, I think we're down to a German news program and those guys from the web."
"Naked news or Everything Good?"
"Everything Good. We're not doing the Naked News." Tyler eyed Glen's shapely legs. "Not that it wouldn't be a gift to men and women everywhere to show off your legs some more."
Glen laughed and kissed him.
The screen blinked and a face came up on the screen. It was Tim. He blinked once and then looked away. "Uh, guys? Could you put on some pants? Please tell me you have not been giving interviews to the world's media outlets and talking to your fellow billionaires in your underwear."
Tyler laughed and pulled the roll-away table in front of them. They'd been using it to block the view. "No worries. Only Glen and I, and now you, have seen beneath the table and glimpsed the hidden delights."
"Yeah, thanks. Still straight, guys. You can keep your delights to yourself." Tim's voice was laced with laughter despite himself.
"What's up?" Glen asked, leaning against the restored modesty table.
"Got a special request conversation that I think you should take."
"Oh?" Tyler sat up a little straighter and leaned forward. "You wouldn't have interrupted the interview-a-thon for something minor. Which head of state wants to talk?"
Tim shook his head ruefully. "Even I forget how quick you are sometimes." Tim paused for dramatic effect. "President, line two."
Tyler nodded. "Ok put him through. This should be interesting. Or annoying."
Tim paused. "You guys don't want to put on pants to talk to the President of the United States?"
Glen and Tyler both laughed. Tyler fixed Tim with a Look. "Heck, no. How often am I going to get to do this?"
"Knowing you? Several more times this century."
Tim pushed a button and the picture changed.
An older distinguished gentleman came into the picture. He was wearing a shirt and tie, and had a sweater on. Casual style. But the guy probably would have looked Presidential in an overall.
"Gentlemen. Thank you for letting me break into your tight schedule."
"Mr President, it's an honor to talk to you. Any time." Tyler nodded, as did Glen. All over again, Glen was relieved to have Tyler do the talking. Glen was a little overwhelmed.
"I'll make this as brief as I can. First, on behalf of the American people, thank you. I understand why you only involved our people at the last minute, but I was glad we could help squash this stupidity before it got more out of hand."
"You're welcome, sir. I'd like to think that we'd happily do the same again, if needed. You know you can call on our aid any time." Tyler was as sincere as Glen had ever heard him -- outside of the bedroom, or that court house in Vermont.
"Yes, I was hoping you'd feel that way." Someone off-camera handed him a paper, which the President glanced at. "That brings me to the second reason I called. We have a situation we were hoping you could assist us with."
"Mr President, could I interrupt with a question before you go on?"
The man nodded, looking unperturbed. "Please do."
"Could Glen and I have at least a couple of days off before we help with whatever the international crime problem is in the Caribbean?"
The President raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then leaned back. "I was told you're sharp. I see my people didn't have that wrong. Was that an educated guess or a leak on our end? I know you've poached a few of our intelligence people this year."
Tyler half-smiled and shook his head. "Just an educated guess, Mr President. I'll do my best not to spy on my own government. First, you called out of the blue, and second, we filed a flight plan with the Defense Department, so you already know where we're headed. Third, the only thing I'm particularly well suited for at this point is interacting with the criminal element." Tyler shrugged.
The President nodded. "Yes, well reasoned. We have a little ... situation brewing down that way. I think that your unique skills, and the rather odd position you're in now, make you exactly the right men," His glance included Glen in this assessment. "To tackle it."
"Happy to oblige, sir. What can we do?"
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ge
t Over It
Several days later
"Want another?" Glen asked, holding up a beer bottle from the cooler.
"Nah, I'll keep for now. I'm taking it slow..." Tyler leaned back in the reclining beach chair, and tipped his hat down a little.
Rebecca Sterling sipped from her margarita. "Really, you boys know how to relax. No crowds, no spectators, a pristine beach and top-shelf booze? I approve."
"Yeah, there are serious advantages to owning your own tropical island. Though the commute to anywhere is a bitch."
They were basking on the sand, soaking up the rays and watching the waves roll in. Although it wasn't going to be the month-long retreat from the world that Glen had hoped for, the President had given them a week off before they needed to work on his "little job".
They were taking full advantage of it.
Lance and Antoine were cavorting on the beach not far away, alternating between a casual walk and running around splashing each other. Arrayed behind Glen, Tyler and Rebecca were six or seven of the security guys. Glen was pretty sure there were a lot more he didn't see. Plus they'd setup the radar and probably the sonar, too, for all he knew. James had really gone the extra mile, and Glen was glad. He wouldn't put it past the guys they'd helped put in jail to arrange for a cruise missile. Hopefully, Tyler and his new special crew had taken care of most of the bad guy's money and that wouldn't be a problem.
Everyone had been arrested from the King's Club. Their pre-trial hearings in The Hague was top news world-wide. It would probably take months to sort out all the legal wrangling leading up to the actual trial.
"So do you think your brother and his boyfriend would be interested in the same deal I keep dangling in front of you and Tyler?" Rebecca Sterling looked over her large sunglasses at Glen.
Glen choked on his beer, and sprayed a little on the sand. He was pretty sure that he was full-on blushing, too.
Tyler snorted.
Rebecca just laughed. "Really, darling, you are simply too easy." She sighed. "It's a shame, but I'm quite certain Lance and Antoine are even less interested in my ... ample assets than you two lovebirds are."
"Oh?" Tyler smirked. "What gave them away?"
Rebecca made an indelicate noise. "When I'm wearing my tailored bikini and applying sunscreen provocatively around my top, some men have the common courtesy to stare." She leaned back and smiled indulgently. "All Antoine could look at was Lance's ass in that speedo your brother squeezed himself into."
"Yeah, and although Lance has a nice ass, it's nothing compared to those weapons you have concealed in there." Tyler chuckled. "You should have to register those with NATO or something."
"You see?" Rebecca wiggled into her chair to get more comfortable. "A woman appreciates being noticed now and again."
They relaxed quietly in the sunlight for a while. Just as Lance and Antoine, trailed by a few security guys, passed out of sight down the shore, Tyler turned to Rebecca.
"So, uh, what are you doing for the next month or so?"
"I tabled most of my plans to spend some quality time not getting killed by angry ex-politicians that I screwed over. Other than that, my dance card is pretty empty."
"Want to tag along for one of our adventures? In a more hands-on capacity?"
"Why, Mr. Conrad, are you propositioning me?"
"Yup!" Tyler smiled over at Glen. "In a strictly non-sexual way, of course."
Rebecca sighed. "Of course. Silly boys." She sat up, and pushed her sunglasses up her face. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, we're not just in hiding down here -- we're also doing a favor for a new friend..."
