by Steve Hadden
“Good to see you, Royce,” he said.
“Good evening, Jeff,” Brayton replied.
“And this must be the most important woman of the night,” Thomas turned to her.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Thomas,” Priscilla said, batting her eyelids.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Thomas flirted, not taking his eyes off of Priscilla as she took the seat next to him.
Brayton was unnerved. Priscilla seemed more important to Thomas than he was. Again, he considered the possibility of Priscilla as a threat instead of a bedmate. He knew the drill well. Power followed money. Period. And Priscilla had the money now. With control of the Trust, her personal wealth would swell to twelve billion dollars, if the IPO took off as projected by Thomas’s firm. Were the gazes and stares following him across the room, or was it her? Brayton felt his power draining. He’d identified with the concept of a shark in business, a cunning and relentless predator, but he was now in a room full of great whites, and power followed money.
The trio sipped scotch until the entrees, three filet mignons, arrived. Most of the conversation, led by Thomas, was about the tragic incidents that had taken the life of Priscilla’s father and brother in less than a week.
“I’ve read your husband is wanted for your brother’s murder. Have they caught him yet?” Thomas asked.
“No, Jeff. But it’s just a matter of time. They found his prints on the knife and his blood was at the scene. He’s working with a disgruntled employee he was probably sleeping with. They’ll catch him, and they’ll convict him.”
“Sorry to hear that, Mrs. Wellington.”
“Please call me Priscilla. As you can imagine, I don’t want that last name now.” Priscilla and Thomas shared a smile.
Enough of this shit, Brayton thought. That was his piece of ass and Thomas better keep his hands off.
“Let’s get down to the IPO,” Brayton interrupted.
Thomas’s eyes lingered on Priscilla a little too long, and then focused on Brayton as he spoke.
“Well, we’ve polled our investors, and they want assurances that the trust is solidly behind this deal. They’re confident Jones-Frederick can do our part, but they need to be certain the company is under competent and stable leadership. They have confidence in you, Royce,” Thomas turned back to Priscilla, “but to be frank, they’re concerned about having a chairman of the board who has no business experience. They want assurances there is firm control of the Trust.”
Priscilla’s eyes flashed, and her flirting smile intensified.
“You mean a woman with no business experience?” she said cocking her head.
She simply stated what Brayton had always thought. He was the brains, and she just pulled the lever to vote the Trust’s shares the way he told her. Apparently Thomas had drawn the same conclusion.
“As Royce can tell you, I’m fully capable of running things here and you can tell your investors not to worry. If a woman with no business experience doubles their share price in less than six months in this market, I think they’ll be thrilled you gave them the opportunity,” She leaned in and touched his forearm. “And you get all those fees—and if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll invest yourself.”
Brayton wanted to laugh. Priscilla had done her homework. No billion-dollar roll in the hay for you, my friend. He felt the power return and electrify his body.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up while you and Royce discuss the details,” Priscilla said.
She rose from her chair, and the two men joined her in courtesy. She strolled through the tables drawing several stares. Both men watched her prance out of the dining room, while her eyes flirted with every stare in the room.
“Okay, Royce, here’s the deal,” Thomas said.
“I don’t trust some hot blooded woman. You tell me you have this thing under your control, or we’ll pull the plug. This business is built on success. One screw-up and we’ll be selling savings bonds and cold calling schleps making minimum wage.”
Suddenly things weren’t so funny. The IPO was three business days away. No IPO no payoff. No payoff and the Marcosa boys would be fitting Brayton for concrete overshoes, and he’d get a permanent underwater tour of the Pacific. His bow tie tightened around his neck. In desperation, he’d sold his soul to the only source of funds he could find through a connection arranged by the father he despised. He’d borrowed millions from the family who silently controlled most of the West Coast docks, and his life was the only collateral he had left.
Brayton leaned across the table. His stare narrowed, and he pointed his index finger past the stem of his empty wine goblet.
“I’ve got it under control. You just calm the investors. That’s what you’re getting your forty million for.”
It was a bluff, but Thomas didn’t have to know that. Or did he know. Brayton tried to keep his face neutral.
Thomas leaned back and scoffed. “One more thing, Royce. I want in on this little side deal you’re cooking up or we delay IPO.”
Brayton felt the screws twist and the vice tighten—but still his face remained deadpan. Caught off guard, he remained silent. Thomas’s minions had found a leak. No one was supposed to know about flipping the company to the highest bidder after the IPO.
“Well?” Thomas leaned back in his chair and waited.
Brayton’s starched collar now felt like a noose. The clock was ticking, and there were still too many loose ends. Priscilla had to be kept happy—not an easy task, and David Wellington and Tori Clarke were still out there. Wellington could regain control of the company if he somehow dodged the murder charges and divorced Priscilla. Now, this asshole wanted in and was holding Brayton’s life in his hands.
Brayton had no choice.
“You’re in.”
Priscilla returned with her lips glistening with fresh lipstick and remained standing. Both men stood.
“Our car is waiting,” she said extending her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jeff.”
Thomas gently shook her hand. Brayton folded his napkin on the table and shook Thomas’s hand.
“I’ll call you, Jeff.”
He guided Priscilla to the aisle and they walked out of the restaurant. He was sure the same stares followed him out. Hopefully they didn’t see the blood gushing from the bite he’d just received from another great white. Otherwise, there’d be a feeding frenzy, and he’d be the prey.
CHAPTER 38
David Wellington knelt on one knee and checked his digital watch; it was two a.m. Thursday morning. The streets were deserted, and nothing moved in the still night air, except the changing colors emanating from the traffic lights still attempting to direct non-existent traffic. In the shadows, Tori crouched beside him, and he listened to her shallow breathing as he scanned the perimeter of their target.
Nestled among the canopied evergreens and stately palms at the corner of Newport Center Drive and Santa Barbara Avenue, the Rexsen Lab campus glowed under the soft yellow light of the city streetlamps. The landscape concealed the eight foot wall topped with three strands of barbed wire. The natural barrier of trees parted at the corner of Rexsen’s ultra-modern administration building that faced west and looked over Newport Harbor. The first floor was taller than the rest. Alternating layers of Italian marble and dark glass marked each of the remaining three floors that grew successively larger and appeared to lean over the sidewalk and peer down on all who passed by. David thought the structure looked like a stadium from the outside, and with the fourth floor leaning out the farthest, it gave the impression someone at the top was watching.
It used to be him. Now it was someone else.
David had approved the design and, at the time, thought the subliminal message was appropriate. The power is at the top. You’re welcome at the front doors during business hours, but otherwise stay out: we’re watching. He knew information was money in this business and security and intimidation protected information.
Within the
walls of the compound and behind the administration building, stood their target; the Lab. Two stories tall with only two ways in and four ways out, counting emergency exits, it was the heart of the company. Here the brightest minds money could buy postulated, studied, and experimented with the human genome. In recent years the scientific community had mapped the 30,000 or so genes that make up the blueprint of mankind. The infinite permutations made each person unique. At the same time, misprints and truncations in the four proteins making up the strands of human DNA determined each individual’s fate. The secrets of disease, birth defects, aging, and other genetic imperfections were being revealed at an accelerating rate. Billions of dollars were chasing the answers to questions previously considered the realm of the Almighty.
CGT was intended to lead the fight against cancer at the molecular level. The clinical successes were unmatched and the treatment had raced through the FDA approval process. Now he was determined to stop it. The flaw Tori had identified would repair the targeted imperfection, but unknowingly create another. Cancer patients like Amy would trade one cancer for another even more deadly.
He carried the black knapsack carefully packed by Joe and led Tori along the south wall of the complex. They disappeared into the thick landscape along the compound’s back wall. Once concealed, Tori helped David wriggle out of the pack and remove a rope ladder and a thick black wool blanket. David tossed the blanket over the barbed wire and quickly followed it with the nylon rope ladder. Tori ascended the wall first and dropped undetected onto the grounds of the compound. David followed and joined her on the wet grass on the other side.
They scampered across the back parking lot to the rear door of the lab. David produced a magnetic card from the back pack. He paused and glanced at Tori. Her eyes darted back and forth as if expecting to be caught. Her hands were shaking. She realized David was staring at her and gave an approving nod. A rustling in the trees caused the pair to drop to their knees and spin toward the back wall they’d just scaled. David held his breath. The next few seconds lasted forever as he scanned the wall and listened. He could only see the outline of the trees protruding over the white wall. The hair was tingling on the back of his neck and he felt someone was watching him. But with no other movement, he returned his attention to the card reader and prepared to insert the card Joe had stashed in the pack. Would the card work? Would they be immediately detected? Would an alarm sound? Were the cops already hiding inside anticipating the move and ready to take these two murderers dead or alive? David took a deep breath and inserted the card. The release of the magnetic lock allowed him to exhale and they slipped inside.
Two-hundred yards away in the empty lobby of the administration building, a console held nine eight-inch video screens that monitored the activity around the compound. The security cameras were positioned strategically around the compound: one at the west gate, one at the south gate, two in the parking lots, two scanning the front and back entryways to the administration building, and four gazing at the four doors of the lab.
The tenth screen was seventeen inches and displayed an electronic schematic of the complex and showed the network of card readers in the complex. A red dot pulsated at the rear entry of the lab, and the banner on the right side of the screen displayed the information captured from the magnetic chip on the card.
Carolyn Peters—Administration.
Dressed in a gray security uniform, the guard at the console struggled to free his hand and feet to no avail. Bound to his chair with thick plastic pull ties, he wriggled and pulled until his face turned red. He knew the alarm meant trouble, and the fact he was not reporting it meant certain death. A second red dot began flashing at the rear exit to the admin building as his assailant left to assist the intruders. The duct tape plastered across his mouth muffled his cursing. He knew the Long Beach warehouse had been connected to the console, and he knew they’d be coming.
David and Tori had maneuvered through the rear entrance to the lab and, scanning the darkness ahead, began to move cautiously up the stairs. David strained to open his eyes as wide as possible to let every spec of light into his field of vision. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his throat. Every neuron was telling him to run; to get the hell out of here. He knew they would be detected, if not immediately, soon after. They had two minutes at best before each entrance would be automatically locked down by the system, and the building that focused on saving lives would become their tomb. They had to move quickly.
At the top of the second floor, David motioned to Tori to move past. The way was clear, and she could quickly move along the front hall way to the CGT lab. From his vantage point, David watched the administration building. There was still no movement. A few cars were scattered between the two buildings, and he scanned each one; still, he detected no movement. Tori’s silhouette moved down the hallway, then darted to the left into the CGT lab.
The alarm had been flashing for thirty seconds before the call was made from the Long Beach warehouse to the front desk. The phone rang for another fifteen seconds before it was clear there was a breech.
“The front desk isn’t responding sir. We have a situation.” The man pointed to the display in front of him.
Butch Donovan leaned in and examined the data.
“It’s them. They’ve used his secretary’s entry card. How the hell did they get into the compound?”
“Don’t know sir. East and south gates report no entry or exit except for construction workers. They knocked off at midnight. Should we initiate lock down?”
“Do it. They’re trapped. And get our team in there. No cops. I’m on my way.”
Donovan pulled a 9MM from his shoulder holster, checked the clip, and ducked out the door accompanied by a muscular man dressed in black.
Four successive clicks, only a half a second apart, echoed sharply down the hallway. The sound ripped through David’s body as if he’d been struck by lightning.
Lockdown!
“Shit!” David cursed.
He rose from a squat to check the parking lot in time to see the armed guards from the west and south gates approaching in a trot. He ducked down and yelled to Tori in a whisper.
“We gotta get going, now!”
No response. David ran toward the northwest corner of the second floor. He scrambled past the office doors until he reached the CGT lab. This was where the secrets of the human genome had been unlocked, and CGT had been born. It had occupied the entire north half of the building. As he reached the entrance to the lab, he remembered computer stations and cubicles used to sit in front of the entrance to the clean room, where genetic material was handled and stored.
David reached the double doors marking the entrance to the CGT section and burst through. The cubicles were gone and the area was strewn with construction materials, tarps and paint. There was no sign of Tori. Panicking, David bolted to the clean room. A figure lurched in front of him, and he raised his fist.
“David! It’s me,” Tori shrieked.
“We gotta get out of here,” David said.
“I can’t find it. They’ve ripped out everything.”
“Doesn’t matter now. They’re here. Let’s go.”
“No!” Tori protested and bolted out the door and down the corridor.
“Damn it, Tori.” David took off after her.
Outside, with weapons drawn, the security guards held their positions at the front and rear exits. Two dark sedans entered the compound and six men, all dressed identically in black and wearing balaclava masks raced to positions at each doorway; they joined with the security guards to form four teams; one at the front entrance to the lab, one at the rear, and two covering the two emergency exits at either end of the building. In unison, on signal from the lead, they entered the four doorways and began to systematically search the building.
David heard the clicks of the magnetic locks and froze. He stopped breathing and listened. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He heard the doors click shut followed by footstep
s too numerous to count. They were closing the noose. The sound of rattling glass came from the opposite corner of the building. If he could hear it, they could hear it too.
He raced after Tori—she had gone through a doorway at the end of the corridor.
“This isn’t part of CGT’s lab! Let’s go.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her along the corridor, retracing his steps. She seemed oblivious to the threat as she stuffed a few vials into the knapsack on his back. As they rounded the corner and headed along the corridor past the CGT lab and towards the stairs, David spotted the ruby red pinpoint of a laser sight, dancing along the wall. He froze and pinned Tori behind him with his arm. He heard the footsteps grow louder. He cut a quick glance at Tori. She’d obviously heard the same thing. The terror in her eyes frightened David.
He took a deep breath.
“This is it!”
He grabbed Tori by the arm and bolted into the lab, which was littered with construction material.
“They’re in the lab! We got ‘em,” a gruff voice yelled.
As they ran to towards the window, David looked back to see a dark figure appear in the doorway and point a weapon in their direction.
They were trapped. And if Joe wasn’t ready, this was it—the end. Determination filled him—just when he had found his life’s purpose he wasn’t going to let them snatch it from him. He turned to the window, and spotted the construction chute that emptied into the dump truck below. He knew it would be better to jump—instead of taking a bullet here. At least it would buy them a few more seconds.
At the window, the first burst of muffled gunfire erupted and he pushed Tori to the left into the chute and out of the line of fire. Tori tumbled down the construction chute and landed with a thud on a pile of broken drywall. David tumbled out and landed faced down on top of her.
Within seconds, he heard the engine of the dump truck roar to life, and they were slammed against the tailgate as it lurched forward. Dazed, David wobbled into a sitting position in the pile of debris, and heard a crash as the behemoth truck’s engine roared, and the west security gate shattered.