The Elderon Chronicles Box Set

by Tarah Benner

  “Father, no!” Tripp yells, his voice cracking with anguish. “I vote ‘yay.’ You’ve got your votes, all right? You can have whatever you want. Just let my father go.”

  “Tripp!” Strom yells, his expression morphing into frustration. “What the hell have you done?”

  I’m so busy watching the turmoil pass hundreds of miles between father and son that I don’t immediately register the look on Mordecai’s face. It’s almost like sympathy, and it curdles my blood.

  “Unfortunately, young Van de Graaf . . . your vote is not enough to save your father.”

  Tripp looks confused. Hell, I’m confused.

  “If you had not sold off your shares back when the Van de Graafs controlled fifty-one percent of the company, you and the ‘yays’ would have it. As it is . . .”

  No. My entire body recoils with fear. The projection flickers, and Strom lets out a cry of agony. I whip around to look at him just in time to see his entire body seize in pain. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I taste something metallic on the tip of my tongue.

  My entire body freezes in horror as I watch Strom convulse in his chair. For a moment it looks as though he’s being tortured, but then his body goes limp, and I realize he’s dead.

  Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and when I turn to Tripp, my heart breaks. He’s staring at his father in shock and horror, as though he still doesn’t understand what happened.

  “Well, well, look at that,” says Mordecai smugly. “By eliminating one of the board members, suddenly I have the votes.”

  Something disgusting and horrible crawls up my throat. I don’t believe it. This isn’t happening. It’s too despicable to be true.

  “How do you figure that?” barks the man called Craven.

  “It’s quite simple, really,” says Mordecai, his voice shimmering with delight. “You see, before, the younger Mr. Van de Graaf only controlled twelve percent of the company. He sold off a portion of his shares to help fund the construction of Elderon. But now that the elder Mr. Van de Graaf has passed away, another twenty-eight percent of the company will pass directly to his heir. Now Mr. Van de Graaf Jr. — the only one, I suppose — controls just over forty percent of the company. The ‘yays’ have it.”

  “We must vote again,” says Craven indignantly.

  “Oh, there’s no need,” says Mordecai. “I already know what the vote will be . . .”

  There’s a long beat of silence that holds our collective dread.

  “You see, I’ve taken the liberty of paying a visit to each of your delightful families,” says Mordecai. The board members’ faces disappear, and five new feeds appear on screen. They look as though they’ve been recorded with security cameras, but the cameras are pointed into living rooms.

  I can see two small children playing in one — colorful blocks scattered on the floor — and what looks like a hospital bed in another. A withered old woman is lying in the bed, and I can see a nurse bending over her.

  “Let this be a lesson to you all,” says Mordecai, turning to face the CEOs. “I always find a way to get what I want.”

  He turns back to face the screen, and the board members’ families disappear.

  “Do we need to vote again?” he asks. “Or do we all understand each other?”

  28

  Jonah

  After the vote, Mordecai ends the conference call, and his projection disappears. The board voted to give Mordecai access to the Optix network, just as he knew they would.

  Maggie and I are left standing in the middle of the Workshop, surrounded by four live CEOs and one dead one. Strom Van de Graaf’s corpse is slumped forward in his chair, held in place by his restraints.

  The instant Mordecai ended the call, the plastic devices attached to the CEOs’ restraints unclipped and fell to the floor. Presumably they were each issued their own set of demands, and he wants them to talk amongst themselves. Either he’s hoping for a feud that will turn them against one another, or he wants them to replay Strom’s violent death.

  Teegan Henley, the one with the pink hair, begins to cry. It starts off quiet like a sniffle, and then her cries become loud, racking sobs. She quivers pathetically tied up in her chair, and I find myself feeling sorry for her.

  “Is he . . .” Teegan chokes. “Is he really . . .”

  Since Maggie and I are the only ones not bound, I approach Strom’s body so she doesn’t have to check.

  I know he’s dead before I even feel for a pulse. I’ve seen enough fresh corpses to know that he’s gone. The blood has already begun to pool in his lower body, giving his face the pale pallor of death.

  Still, I stick my hand under his jaw and feel for a pulse. His skin is warm and oily to the touch, but there’s not even the hint of blood pulsing beneath the surface.

  He’s dead.

  Teegan seems to take my silence for an answer. She cries harder. I feel bad for her, but I’m more concerned with Mordecai’s demands. Now that Maverick Enterprises has fallen, I can only imagine that the others will follow.

  “I bet Ziva was involved with this from the very beginning,” says Zuni bitterly.

  “Why do you say that?” asks Maggie coldly. I can tell she believes in Ziva Blum’s better nature — even if no one else does.

  “How could you not know that your brother is a lunatic?” Zuni hisses. “He was working in her company.”

  “Mordecai was working overseas,” I say.

  “So what?” says Zuni with a curl of her lip. “You don’t get one bad egg like that and a child that’s completely normal. That weird shit runs in families. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “So because Ziva’s brother is a terrorist, does that mean you’re a petty criminal like your brother?” Teegan asks.

  Zuni’s face hardens like marble, and for a second I think she might break her restraints and lunge across the room at Teegan.

  “Yeah, I know about your brother,” says Teegan. “That’s the power of data, baby.”

  “You spyin’ on me now?” Zuni snaps. She lets out a humorless scoff of laughter. “I guess there’s nothing you won’t do to get ahead.”

  “Oh, come on,” says Teegan, looking to her fellow CEOs for support. “We all know you gave it up to Mordecai the second he asked for security access.”

  “I only granted him access to this building,” Zuni says. “I didn’t hand over the keys to the kingdom like some people.”

  Zuni’s gaze swivels over to Si, whose face instantly sours with rage.

  “Mordecai threatened my son,” he growls. “I did what anyone else would have done.”

  Zephyr, I notice, has remained silent throughout this exchange. He seems unaffected by the dead guy slumped a few feet away. He’s sitting with his head slightly bowed, listening to the CEOs without weighing in.

  “What would you know about it?” Zuni snarls at Teegan. “You are a child! Your company —”

  “My company does not negotiate with terrorists,” says Teegan. “Not now — not ever. My board has orders. They would never give in to demands that would jeopardize our clients’ data.”

  “Even if your life were threatened?” says Zuni.

  “Even then.”

  “Hmm . . . And how would your shareholders respond to losing the founder and CEO?”

  “I’m curious,” Zephyr breaks in, finally appearing interested. “How did you two come to be here?”

  It takes me a minute to realize that Zephyr is talking to Maggie and me. His right eye is hidden under a swoop of blond hair, which makes it hard to track his gaze.

  “Your dog walker is extremely loyal,” I say, taking an instant dislike to Zephyr. “You should promote him.”

  Zephyr smirks. “Yes. Jared is extremely valuable to me. I knew he’d come through in the end.”

  Maggie and I exchange a wary look. Something about Zephyr’s tone sets me on edge.

  “He destroyed The Brain then, did he?”

  “It’s destroyed,” I say in a clipped t
one.

  Zephyr has hardly said twenty words to me, but every word that comes out of his mouth only stokes my unease.

  “So now the only possible access could come from the cloud, which requires my biometric credentials . . . or Jared’s.”

  I glance at the other CEOs. Judging by their expressions, I’m not the only one feeling edgy about Zephyr’s true intentions.

  “And Jared will never break?” he says, the comment coming out more like a question than a statement.

  “Jared almost died for you,” says Maggie. “He’d never give up his credentials.”

  “Mmm, yes,” Zephyr muses. “That’s what I thought.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretches across the room, and I suddenly have a very bad feeling. A second later, Zephyr speaks to activate the desktop. The little white orb illuminates on the device, but Mordecai does not reappear.

  “Record message to Mordecai,” says Zephyr.

  “Recording message,” parrots the desktop in a robotic female voice. “Begin speaking after the tone.”

  There’s a low beep, and Zephyr begins to speak. “Mordecai. It’s Zephyr. I’ve decided I will release my data. End message.”

  “What?” I snarl. I could strangle the bastard.

  “He’ll kill me if I don’t,” says Zephyr lightly. “He’ll gouge out my eyes and cut off my fingers. He’ll torture me until I record my name for voice authentication. And then he will kill me.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I growl.

  “As the founder and CEO, I cannot afford to be slaughtered, and I assume Jared is long gone . . . The company would not survive —”

  “This isn’t about your company,” I snarl.

  “I am my company!” Zephyr yells, his tuft of bangs quivering with the force of his voice. “I am the mind. I am the vision. I am the image that keeps our shareholders satisfied. One whisper of my death, and our stock would plummet. My employees have invested their life savings in our company on my recommendation. They’d find themselves destitute overnight!”

  “You don’t care about your employees,” Teegan spits, glaring at Zephyr in disgust. “You just want to save your own skin.”

  “Why would you do this?” Maggie asks, her voice low and angrier than I’ve ever heard it. “After everything Jared’s done for you . . . He risked his life to keep your data secure. And now you’re just going to throw it all away?”

  Zephyr’s face twitches, and for a moment it seems as though the mention of Jared might have triggered some guilt. But then his expression clears, and he stares up at Maggie with eyes that are festering with ego.

  “What can I say?” he murmurs. “Some lives are worth more than others.”

  29

  Maggie

  A horrible silence fans out across the room. Zephyr’s pronouncement blows in like a cold wind, leaving everyone chilled and demoralized.

  It’s not the same as Si giving up his company’s security to save his son or Zuni allowing Mordecai to tamper with Maverick’s building security.

  Zephyr’s betrayal feels worse. He didn’t do it to save his family or to protect his employees’ investment. He did it to save his own skin.

  In that moment, I hate him. I have no idea how Jared could have followed him so dutifully. I have no idea what he sees in this man.

  A second later, Mordecai’s voice comes over the desktop. “Well done, Mr. Morgan. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  A ripple of cold resentment follows that statement. Teegan looks devastated. Si hangs his head. Zuni is furious, though whether she’s angry at Zephyr for giving in or wishing she’d agreed to Mordecai’s demands first, I can’t tell.

  “I will require your services,” Mordecai continues. “But until then, you’re free to go.”

  Zuni scowls. She definitely wishes she’d given in.

  The blue light on the front of Zephyr’s hostage harness blinks, and a moment later, it falls off him. He gets to his feet, and I see that he isn’t a very big man. Zephyr is a few inches shorter than me, pale, skinny, and poorly dressed.

  He starts to head for the doors, but before he’s halfway across the room, music starts to play from the overhead speakers. The song is “Walking on Sunshine.” It echoes loudly off the ceiling before fading into nothingness. Then Tripp’s voice booms out over the Workshop.

  “Stop! Nobody go anywhere . . . unless you want to die.” Tripp’s grim warning seems at odds with the upbeat music. It fits with his sense of irony.

  Zephyr stops in his tracks, and his face drains of the little color it has left.

  “Si, nice try,” says Tripp. “You may have sold out the world, but lucky for me, someone in your company has a conscience . . . He helped me disable the surveillance feeds in my building, so now we’re finally alone.”

  By “alone,” I assume he means that Mordecai can no longer listen in. Tripp must have a plan.

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” he continues. “Mordecai will know something is up. He’ll send more bots. The more the merrier, really, but we need to be in position.”

  Jonah raises one skeptical eyebrow. I can tell he thinks Tripp has lost his marbles.

  “Wyatt . . . Mordecai has rigged that room with explosives. I watched one of the bots put them in position over the feed.”

  Identical looks of panic spread out among the CEOs, and Zephyr freezes as though the floor has turned to lava.

  “They’re taped under the floor and rigged to blow in a few hours — assuming nobody tries to escape before then,” Tripp continues. “He never planned for any of these guys to live, and he definitely wasn’t going to let you and Mags walk out of there alive.”

  Jonah swallows, and his face takes on an expression of grim resolve I’ve come to recognize as his battle face.

  “You have my blessing . . . to blow the place up. Wait for the bots to come and then bring the bitch down.”

  Holy shit. Tripp has lost it.

  “We have plenty of insurance,” he continues. “Bring it down, and get yourselves out. The harnesses are connected to the building’s wireless network. You disable the wireless, and you should be able to free the others. As for my father’s body . . . he always said he planned to go down with the ship. I’ve decided to interpret that literally.”

  Tripp’s recording ends, and the chorus of “Walking on Sunshine” swells in the room. Zephyr looks as though he suddenly regrets his decision to side with Mordecai, and the others look panicked.

  Zephyr glances from us to the CEOs and then keeps walking toward the door.

  “Not so fast,” says Jonah, closing the distance behind Zephyr and using his body to block the door. He towers over Zephyr by at least a foot. Zephyr looks as though he wants to take a swat at Jonah, but he’s too chicken to try.

  “Let me go,” Zephyr growls.

  “If Van de Graaf managed to shut down the surveillance feed, it means Mordecai doesn’t know what’s happening yet. What’s gonna stop you from telling him that we’re repurposing his explosives?”

  “Repurposing?” Zuni cries, looking at Jonah as though he’s out of his mind.

  “I won’t say a word,” says Zephyr, his voice shaking in a way that makes me distrust him even more.

  “I don’t buy it,” says Jonah.

  “I-If I don’t go out there, h-he’s going to know something is wrong,” Zephyr stammers.

  Jonah sighs. Zephyr has a point.

  “Maybe we should send Mordecai a finger,” says Teegan. “Let him know we aren’t fuckin’ around.”

  Jonah shrugs and cocks his head to the side. “A hand would be more convincing.”

  He makes a move toward Zephyr, who shrinks back in alarm.

  “You wouldn’t!” he gasps, his voice rising half an octave.

  “Oh, I would.”

  In that moment, I’m convinced that Jonah would take his hand. His eyes are filled with a darkness that says he’s done much worse before. Zephyr looks from Jonah to me to his fellow CEOs, fruitlessly search
ing for a savior.

  Then, suddenly, I get an idea. It’s so perfect and beautiful that I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me sooner.

  “We might be willing to forgo the hand sacrifice . . .” I say slowly, “if you step down as CEO and transfer full administrative access to Jared.”

  “What?” says Zephyr, letting out a derisive laugh. “I’m not doing that!”

  “Suit yourself,” says Jonah, pulling out his long knife. The blade catches the light as he twists it around, giving it an intimidating shine.

  “Wait!” Zephyr yelps, sounding more like a dog than a person.

  “You heard her,” says Jonah. “It’s your company or your hand.” His eyes flicker over to mine, and I can see that he’s impressed.

  Zephyr makes a whining noise and fidgets on the spot.

  “You’re wasting my time,” says Jonah, fingering his knife. “What’s it gonna be?”

  Zephyr looks from Jonah to the knife, as though trying to guess how much it would hurt.

  “Fine!” he cries, starting to sweat. “I’ll . . . I’ll do it.”

  “You’ll do what?” asks Jonah.

  “I’ll contact the rest of the board and let them know I’m stepping down.”

  “Do it now,” says Jonah, jerking his head to the desktop.

  “What? Not now . . .”

  “Do it!” Jonah yells. “Or it’s your hand on a silver platter. What Mordecai does to you when he finds out you’re still alive . . . That’s your business.”

  Zephyr gives Jonah a sour look, but he’s too terrified to argue. He slinks back to the center of the room, bends down, and fumbles to log in to his account. He spends the next ten minutes crafting a message to his fellow board members, glancing back at Jonah every so often.

  “That should do it,” I say, reading the message over his shoulder. “Hit send.”

  Zephyr hesitates, as if he’s still weighing his options. But then Jonah’s hand twitches back toward his knife, and Zephyr hits send. The plan is in motion.