The Jagged Edge

by AJ Frazer

  At the door to his room, he used his swipe card and pushed the door open with one arm, ushering in Louna with the other. As she went in, he followed her closely and before the door had even fully closed, he reached for her arm and pulled her around. She complied and turned easily. Comfortably, softly, she fell into his embrace. Her warm lips on his cold mouth as they melted into a hungry kiss.

  Their kissing became more fevered as his cold hands slipped beneath her jacket, feeling the warmth of her back. The touch of her skin was like a spark, as he pulled her jacket down over her shoulders. With her help he pulled his jacket off, ignoring the bruised muscles in his arms. She hoisted a gray cashmere top over her head to reveal a black bra against soft white skin. He drew her in again, desperate to feel the warmth of her body and the heat of her kiss. The tantalizing flirting had built up all night and now here he was with this spectacular woman, whose body was responding to him in every delicious way.

  A moment later, his shirt was on the floor and they were tearing at their remaining clothes. He spun her around so that he could pull her in close from behind and slide his hand down her smooth stomach and the front of her open jeans. Louna groaned as she guided his large hand to its destination. She pressed herself back into him, arching her back. Turning her head, she kissed him while one hand went behind her and reached down for him. Unclasping her bra with his free hand, he felt greedily for her breasts. She writhed and twisted, all the while pushing back into him. Almost frantically now he pulled down her jeans and lingerie. She responded by putting one hand on the wall and used the other to guide him inside her as her eyes closed.

  His mind swam in blissful astonishment. This beautiful, yet unknown woman was here with him, allowing him to do this to her.

  She pushed back onto him in perfect rhythm as their bodies meshed together. Looking over her shoulder to the right, she rested the side of her head on the wall as she used her right hand to grip his buttock. Feeling her nails digging into his skin sparked a deeply primal instinct in Dominic. Grasping the back of her hair, he pulled back gently, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm. She groaned loudly and he increased the pressure. Louna tilted her pelvis, sending waves of uncontrollable desire through him. Their rhythm sped up. He took her weight as her legs trembled before giving way. Unable to restrain himself any longer, his thrusts became wilder, more animal. The sweat glistened on her back as he ran his hand down the length of her spine before sliding down to her stomach. Finally, his brain shut down in a mesmerizing, chaotic bliss.

  Slowly they untangled themselves on unsteady legs. She turned and kissed him between gasping breaths. Dominic could feel the warm sweat on her stomach against his.

  “I hope you don’t think that was it,” she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “I’m an old man.” He laughed. “Give me a minute.” He lifted her up so that she straddled his waist.

  “You don’t make love like an old man,” she said.

  “Thank you. Nice of you to say.”

  She pouted. “Yes, but it doesn’t change the fact—I want more.”

  At around three in the afternoon the next day, Louna showered and got dressed. Dominic remained propped up on the huge white pillows, naked but for the sheet across him. It certainly hadn’t been the relaxed, post-ascent recovery he had been planning after climbing Mont Blanc. One-night stands weren’t really his thing, but he was a resolute bachelor following a number of failed attempts at long-term relationships over the years. It wasn’t that he couldn’t maintain a monogamous relationship, it’s just that his job, and the lifestyle that went with it, made it hard for anyone else to be in his life. At least that’s what he’d been told numerous times. Hear something often enough and you start to believe it.

  Louna hoisted her jeans up her lithe legs. “You must come back and visit,” she said, in a tone that Dominic couldn’t quite fathom.

  “I’d like that.” He stared up at the ceiling.

  She looked at him for a moment. “Perhaps we should meet again in London, or Paris maybe?”

  He didn’t answer straight away; he was not one to mindlessly agree to anything. “Yes. I think that would be wonderful.” He watched her slip on her jacket gracefully.

  “Well, how does one contact a media ummm … what do you call it … baron?” she said in her lusciously accented English.

  “Baron? I’m just a hack who got lucky.”

  “Oh, the baron is humble, also? Very charming.”

  “You need to leave now, before this baron has to have his way with you again.”

  Louna was now collecting her jewelry and putting it in her bag. She smiled sweetly. “Stop it, or I might beg you to.”

  “Out!” said Dominic, pointing to the door.

  She pouted and sighed before walking to the bed where he lay. Bending at the hips, she kissed him, her hair falling on his face and tickling his cheek mercilessly.

  Dominic put his hand behind her head and held the kiss, releasing her only when he felt the tiniest retreat from the muscles in her neck.

  Louna straightened. “Au revoir.” Her tone had just a scraping of melancholy, a seriousness that Dominic hadn’t noticed before. She was gone without another look, the door clicking softly behind her.

  A moment later, Dominic realized with disappointment that she hadn’t left any contact details. Probably for the best, he figured. He should never have let a stranger into his life like that. It was a mistake. Albeit a gratifying one.

  Chapter Three

  The rear wheels of the Bombardier Global Express bit the tarmac with a small plume of white smoke. The plane decelerated quickly, before turning sharply off the runway. It was a short taxi to the terminal at Fairoaks, a private airfield in Surrey. When it came to a stop, the stairs were immediately lowered and Dominic exited brusquely, buttoning his navy-blue suit jacket.

  A customs official was first to greet him. Dominic showed the man the obligatory documents and signed the screen of the tablet. He then made his way toward the black S-Class Mercedes where Alex Coburn, his driver, stood with the looming figure of Ray Fells.

  Ray Fells, CEO of Jagged Edge Media, was a large man in every respect, though his fine nose and impressive head of dark hair softened his bulk and aggressive nature. Originally from New York, he had spent the last two decades in London, which resulted in a peculiar accent that was a mix of East Coast American and Estuary English. He had been there right from the beginning, when Dominic launched Jagged Edge as an independent online news service over twenty years before. With the help of some serious financial backers, the pair had turned it into a dominant worldwide media organization.

  Ray looked pissed. It didn’t take a genius to see that today was not going to go well.

  “Ray, you’ve got a face like a bulldog licking a lemon. Please don’t ruin my spectacular bloody mood,” said Dominic, only half-joking.

  “Your mood? Your fucking mood! Jesus, Dom, I know you’re stepping back from the front line—lurking, not working and all that—but you went off the goddamn radar just as we were closing out one of the biggest deals of all time!”

  “Well, what did I miss that you and the rest of the executive couldn’t handle? The deal is as good as done.” Dominic walked around the back of the car and slid into a rear passenger seat as Ray settled into the seat next to him.

  Ray turned to face Dominic as the car accelerated gently away from the plane. The look on his face was enough to give Dominic a sinking feeling in the pit of his belly.

  “You know the investigative firm we hired to do a background check on Veda Analytics?” started Ray.

  “Of course, they came back with nothing.”

  “Well, now they found something. Something you’re not going to like.”

  Dominic often found the anticipation of bad news worse than the news itself. “Jesus, spit it out, man. What is it?”

  Ray looked solemnly at Dominic and took a deep breath. “Veda Analytics is orchestrating major political con
spiracies. We’ve found evidence—albeit buried deep—of blackmail, bribery, and corruption at the highest levels, in countries around the world including the UK and US. Not to mention industrial-scale data privacy hacking, harvesting of personal information, creation of disinformation, alternate fact farming, fake news … you name it.”

  Dominic felt as if he was free-falling and his head swirled with sudden vertigo. It was like another avalanche beneath his feet.

  Veda Analytics was an Indian company with the most unique online e-commerce solution. It was a true darling of the tech world. The possibility of acquiring and augmenting their technology was genuinely transformational. The board, investors, and the share market were all baying for the deal to go ahead. It would mean Jagged Edge could compete against the monolithic players in the media world like Amoogle, the recently merged entity of the world’s biggest search engine with the world’s biggest retailer. What made Veda Analytics so unique and powerful was their sophisticated artificial intelligence platform and data warehouse, which were what Dominic considered most valuable. Based on Ray’s news, there were clearly far more alarming elements to the company that threatened to unwind the whole deal. A deal that had already been thrashed out. Hundreds of millions in mergers-and-acquisitions money spent and they were about to sign on the dotted line. The timing couldn’t have been any worse. Actually, reflected Dominic, it could be worse—we could have found out after the deal.

  “Christ, Ray, why are we only finding out about it now? Someone’s dropped the ball!”

  “I’ve had lengthy discussions with the head of the investigations firm. It’s a miracle they found anything, Dom. This stuff was buried deep.”

  “Has the information been vetted? Double-, triple-checked? Because, if this is true, we could be staring down the barrel of the biggest corporate M&A failure in the history of failures.”

  “The firm is working on it, they’re eighty percent sure of the facts.”

  Eighty percent, thought Dominic. His heart sank into his gut. In the past, he’d made huge business decisions and taken monumental risks based on far worse odds. Eighty percent in their game might as well be a hundred percent. The post-holiday glow was already a distant memory and he’d only been off the plane for ten minutes.

  He stared out the window as they traveled the A319 toward Glenraden, his main residence, south of Weybridge in Surrey. A few minutes later the car pulled into the long gravel driveway. Huge trees—like silent sentinels—loomed over all who passed down the winding drive. He looked out the window at the lush green grass and the vibrant leaves of the old oak and maple trees. The house was far too big for one person, but it had history and substance, which was what mattered to Dominic. None of these “newly built to look old” mansions could come close to the elegance and refinement of a proper English country estate. If any of his old military mates heard him say that, he’d cop a ton of flak.

  From the car they went straight to Dominic’s imposing office. Dominic and Ray sat on opposing couches. The sun was getting lower now and shone through the large bay windows, shedding a golden glow on the varnished wood paneling.

  “So, what kinds of conspiracies are we talking about?” Dominic asked Ray.

  “Arranging prostitutes for politicians, filming them, and then using it to blackmail them. Planting child porn on business executives’ computers and using it as leverage for corporate espionage. I mean, some really disturbing shit.”

  “I can’t believe it. Vivek? He just … I’d never have pegged him as that sort of operator.” Vivek Chandari, CEO of Veda Analytics, had seemed like a stand-up guy and a great businessman when they’d met. “You’re sure it goes right to the top?”

  “Fish rots from the head,” countered Ray.

  Dominic nodded in agreement.

  “There is one last thing.” Ray hesitated as he put his iPad on the coffee table between the couches.

  Dominic looked up warily at Ray. “Seriously? How many more unmitigated bloody corporate disasters could you have left to tell me about?”

  “Jagged Edge received an invitation. Actually, you received an invitation. Jacs was keeping across your email and sent it to me.” Ray was referring to Jacqueline Hoult, Dominic’s Executive Assistant.

  “Invitation to what?”

  “Well, we’re not quite sure.”

  Dominic was getting frustrated. It had been a long afternoon, he was tired and patience was never a virtue he’d had time for. “Can you be a little vaguer, Ray? I’m almost understanding a word you’re saying.”

  Ray took a moment before responding. “It’s an invitation from Victor Sagen, the leader of Earth Ghost.”

  “Victor Sagen? Jesus, I can’t imagine he’s having a summer party,” said Dominic.

  “No, I wouldn’t have thought so either. He wants to meet you. He wants to do an interview.”

  “An interview? How extraordinary!” said Dominic as he sat back in the deep comfortable couch and exhaled. “Does he give any details?”

  “Nothing. Just wants to know if you’re ‘in or out.’”

  “I like his style. Show me the email.”

  Ray reached for his tablet on the table.

  “Has it been authenticated? Could it be a hoax?”

  A few hand-dances over the screen and Ray passed the tablet to Dominic. “Yes, of course. We’ve had an external cyber consultant check it thoroughly. As you would expect, it is completely untraceable and utilizes a number of sophisticated cloaking and rerouting technologies. Not your everyday hoaxer stuff. So, the fact that it’s completely fucking impossible to trace is a good reason to think that it’s legitimate. Plus, there’s the attachment.”

  Sitting forward, Dominic frowned and read the email.

  Dear Dominic,

  Being in the media business, I am sure you appreciate the use of the right medium for the message, so please forgive my use of email. Under normal circumstances, I would have taken the time to write you a letter by hand, but time is not my ally.

  I would like to invite you to meet with me and conduct my first formal interview in over a decade. The interview must be managed in the strictest secrecy and I will control the forum and venue. I know that this is somewhat unorthodox, but it is non-negotiable. I can assure you the interview will be very much worth your while.

  Are you in or out?

  Best regards,

  Victor Sagen

  PS In case you are questioning the authenticity of this invitation, please refer to the attached video.

  Dominic looked up at Ray before opening the video file. It was dark and grainy and there was no sound, just a shaky image of dark shadows mostly impossible to decipher. Then, a gray, dimly lit face appeared. It was unmistakably Victor Sagen, who was on his haunches, holding a small black object in one hand. He looked at the camera, said something that couldn’t be heard, then pressed a button on the small object. A flash of white in the top of the screen saturated the rest of the image. The camera panned to reveal a glowing mess of white flames before Sagen briefly re-entered the frame. The video finished with an image of an Exxon sign on a wire fence.

  “Jesus! Well that was definitely Sagen,” Dominic said. “Any idea where this was and what they blew up?”

  “We think it’s a fracking facility in North Dakota that was destroyed last week. Reports are still to be confirmed but our news desk think there’s good reason to believe it was Earth Ghost. This video certainly corroborates that.”

  Dominic nodded. “Sounds plausible. I’d bloody well love to interview him.” He rolled the idea of interviewing Sagen around in his mind. The thought was sparking his journalistic intrigue, something that hadn’t been ignited for a long time. Dominic quickly brought his attention back to Ray. “Though probably best we send someone who has been following Earth Ghost and knows the background. Given their recent exploits, I’m sure we have a team covering them.”

  “Yes, we do. And I think that sending a field-ready reporter makes a lot more sense than you
trotting off.”

  “Of course.” But Dominic could already feel an itch that he knew he would have to scratch. The possibility of personally interviewing the enigmatic leader of Earth Ghost was too enticing. He had interviewed many powerful people in his time. Some of them were pure evil at their core, some were the most remarkable warriors, some were very ordinary people placed in the most extraordinary situations. He didn’t know much about Victor Sagen, but he did know that he was an enigma, wrapped up in a myth, and shrouded by a mystery.

  “So, what do you know about him?”

  Ray shrugged. “He’s the ‘American Activist,’ as they say. Founder of the most militant—yet some might say most effective—eco-terrorism group in the world. A group that has millions of supporters donating money, despite the fact they have caused untold damage to industrial organizations and governments—not to mention killing innocent people.”

  “Not that different to the warlords and terrorists I met in Iraq, Africa, Bosnia, Syria.”

  “Possibly not. But Earth Ghost’s motivation is, arguably, more defendable than religious, political, or ideological fundamentalism,” said Ray.

  “The world’s most wanted man is the Earth’s most needed,” said Dominic, already slipping into journo mode. “I’ve heard stories that Sagen actually died years ago in a wildfire in California. There were rumors that this Earth Ghost organization used his legend to create a fictional leader, so the real people pulling the strings could maintain their anonymity.”

  “Yeah, I heard that one too,” said Ray dismissively. “They’re like any group of fundamentalist crazies—full of shit. They’re kidding themselves if they think anything they do has any worth. All they’ve achieved so far is killing some poor bastards and pumping up the market for private security firms. Wouldn’t surprise me if Earth Ghost is actually run by a bunch of mercenaries to create demand for their services. Those dim cocksuckers running the oil businesses are willing to pay stupid money for security.”