Josiah pointed to Sally. “Get back to your desk. This is fine.”
Felix had his knee on the guard's back. Ross was now down on his knees removing the guard’s weapons, who was screaming obscenities.
“Don't hurt him,” Josiah said.
Lewis whistled. “I knew this was gonna be toxic, but we haven't even started yet.”
Ross got up and pushed Josiah out of the room. “Sorry for touching you, boss, but you need to leave.”
In the foyer, Josiah passed by five more of his muscular security guards rushing to the scene. He stepped into the elevator to head back up to his apartment. If there was going to be a shootout, he didn't want to be around. Once inside the apartment, he changed his suit jacket as he felt it was now dirty from Ross touching him.
It took over an hour for the two opposing security teams to settle down. During this time, Josiah watched Bradley in another conference room via a hidden security camera. Bradley sat in silence with one heavily armed security guard. He did not look at his tablet or any other device. It was as if he were meditating. Bradley was ten years younger than Josiah but shorter and balding. The stress of the job was taking a toll on his adversary. And Bradley was Josiah’s adversary. There were some politicians and businessmen Josiah fought against over the years that he somewhat respected, but Bradley was not one of them. He cost Josiah too much money. Bradley would someday pay the ultimate price for that level of pain and frustration.
Josiah used his tablet to adjust the camera in the green room for a heat signature, but the only thing on Bradley that showed up was his head. His suit was more than just clothing. It had a masking component and was probably laced with Kevlar. Josiah took a cue, went into his closet, and slipped on a thin Kevlar vest under his dress shirt as well. Too many firearms would cover this meeting. One stray bullet could be detrimental.
An hour later, Josiah passed through the lobby to find his top five security guards facing what he guessed were Bradley’s top five guards just outside the conference room. The alleyway they created reminded him of wedding reception lines. Only this one was no celebration. He passed down the aisle and entered the room to find Ross standing guard next to one of Gate's security guards who, like Ross, was dressed in civilian attire. Lewis was already at the table talking with Bradley. They seemed cordial. Bradley saw Josiah and rose to shake his hand, but Josiah held up both hands in refusal and walked around the table to an opposing seat.
“Oh, so the germ rumors are true,” Bradley said.
“How do you know I'm not being rude?” Josiah retorted.
“That’s a given.”
“Missed you at the Rendezvous in Bermuda,” Josiah said, knowing Bradley had not been invited. He knew the comment would dig at Bradley and establish who the alpha male was.
Bradley started to say something, then waved his hand as if regaining his composure. “I'm sure you've heard why I asked for this meeting. I think it's time we stop fighting and join forces.”
“Before I even delve into the fifty thousand questions I have, who do you propose would be the leader of this new world order? I'm assuming you won't give up any power, and you know I won’t.”
“I think we're getting ahead of ourselves, Josiah. We have mutually exclusive businesses except for where defense contracts come into play, which is where I propose we join forces. My business is pharmaceuticals, and—”
“I know. I've had to pay millions of dollars to exempt my employees from your zombie-creating vaccines.”
Bradley gave an exaggerated look of innocence. “Josiah, I'm shocked you would say such things. A mildly medicated populace is far more easy to control than a bunch of free-thinking animals.”
Josiah huffed. “Give me a break.”
“Don't sit atop your moral high ground. I've basically plagiarized your business model as a template for my career. When it comes to business tactics, you’re as ruthless as you are brilliant.”
“Bottom-line your thoughts.”
“I'll leave all your software businesses alone, as long as you stop your research into anything health care and pharmaceutical. Furthermore, we pool our resources on defense contracts only.”
“What makes you think I'm looking into pharma?”
“Come now, Josiah. I'm well aware of your research with technology and medicine. It didn't take me long when Jay Roswell went off-grid to trace him here. Everyone in the Transhumanism community knows he's dealing with life-extension technology.”
Josiah hid his shock with a chuckle. Ironically, that was a pet project he wanted just for himself. If he could monetize it then he would, but Bradley interpreted the limited intel as Josiah getting into pharmaceuticals. “So you're extrapolating off the fact that, if Jay is here, I'm ramping up to compete with you?”
“I know he's here, and yes.”
Josiah used the intel and lied. “So you want me to stop my pharmaceutical company in exchange for...?
“My company leaving alone cloud- and computer-based industries, even where it rolls into defense. I stick with medicine, and you stick with computers. We then pool resources on military weapons systems, which we both have a stake in.”
Josiah got up and paced around the large table. By the time he got to where Bradley sat, he spoke. “Again, who would be in charge?”
“We would incorporate as partners. Neither of us would own a majority share, and neither could make a decision without the other. Together we would drive out the few remaining competitors, giving us access to limitless government funds. We both know the more power we wield over government, the more they will leave us alone in our other venues.”
“So your vaccines could be replaced with formaldehyde and you'd never get sued again.”
“And you'd be able to finally hurdle the legal battles keeping you from merging your gaming with the porn industry, giving you hundreds of billions in revenue. Again, don't even try to take the high road with me.”
Josiah wanted to slam the younger, fatter, weaker man in front of him. One day he would exact his vengeance, but this deal surprised even him, given the fact he had never planned on going into the pharmaceutical industry to begin with. This would give him funds to focus on his other pet projects.
“Sounds intriguing,” Josiah said, “but I don't trust you.”
“And I don't trust you,” Bradley shot back, showing emotion. “We'd have to put dozens of fail-safes in place. Your top guys would need to sit with mine and hammer this out.”
Sally came in holding a silver tray with fine china and a steeping pot of coffee. Gate's security guard ran a scanner over the tray. A green light popped up on his small baton, and he stepped back without a word. Bradley poured himself a cup of coffee, but Josiah refrained.
Just looking at the younger, overweight man made Josiah’s stomach turn. The anger he felt at someone with this much potential who let his body fall into a malformed blob was infuriating. He despised undisciplined people. It added to his furor over the money he’d thrown away over the years fighting Bradley in the court system. The money could have boosted sales, accelerated R&D, and bought hundreds more political favors. It was such an unnecessary waste.
“The answer's no.”
Bradley put the coffee down, clearly frustrated. “Don't be foolish, Josiah. Our past dealings were business. You take things too personally.”
“One day you’ll learn that nothing is just business. It's all personal.”
Lewis stepped forward. “Maybe we should just look at some numbers and—”
Josiah shot Lewis an angry stare, and Lewis fell back into line. He would have a serious talk with his number one later about the outburst. “I’ve made my decision. You have five minutes to leave my building.”
Josiah left the room before Bradley could even get up. He strode through the security personnel. Sally and a couple of other executives watched him like schoolkids waiting for gossip. He didn't stop and continued on to the elevator. Through the monitor in his apartment, Josiah watche
d as Lewis and Ross escorted Bradley, and his security team, out of the building into several waiting armored vehicles. All three spoke for a moment and shook hands before going their separate ways.
Chapter Eleven
New York 2040
Hours later, Josiah sat in his penthouse apartment’s smaller office, replaying the meeting with Bradley over in his mind. It was a good deal with no downside, so why had Josiah said no? He resolved himself to the simple fact that he hated Bradley. He was a dumber, fatter, perverted version of Josiah. A shadow mimicking its creator that needed to be destroyed. Just thinking about Bradley's overweight, pudgy figure made Josiah want to work out.
He used the equipment in his apartment’s gym. After a five-minute warmup on the treadmill, the built-in laptop computer chirped over and over as Lewis, Sally, and even Carolyn tried to contact him. He ignored every call.
The ceiling projector placed three video streams on the wall in front of the treadmill. Each one was narrated by one of his hired news contractors. The one in Africa was offline, but data the contractor had gathered on Namibia and the Congo streamed across the screen. Most of the intel was casualty rates, the spread of diseases like Ebola, malaria, and AIDS. All diseases that had been eradicated in first world countries. The group at the Rendezvous in Bermuda had said they wanted to isolate Africa and let it descend into the abyss. The Rendezvous was made up of all Anglo-whites, descendants of big families from Europe, and no one cared about Africans or other minorities.
The second broadcast was a reporter in Europe live-streaming to Josiah, along with two other entities who employed him.
Josiah spoke to his tablet. “Computer, tell me if there are any anomalies in the two hours I missed.”
The tablet responded in a male voice. “Fifty murders throughout the EU, two of which were clustered in groups of six and carried out by a jihadist. The remaining murders were isolated burglaries or attacks.”
“Other data?”
“Birth rates continue to drop; euthanasia has become law for those with stage four cancer or who willingly want to end their lives.”
“Politics?”
“No major elections today.”
“Other?”
“Weather unseasonably cool; all cloud-based storage and the internet are still being monitored and controlled by every government in the EU.”
Josiah shifted his view to the last video stream where another contractor stood. This guy worked solely for Josiah. He was thorough, never slanted anything, and would put himself in danger if Josiah waved enough money in front of him. His code name was The Gray Reporter. He stood in a dark street facing a small hovering drone camera. The avatar was of a middle-aged man with a slim build. It was a cover he used to hide his identity when broadcasting to Josiah. The avatar mimicked his every move and altered his voice. By his posture and movements, he was clearly ex-military. With technology, Josiah was confident he could figure out Gray's real identity if needed, but he let the man keep his anonymity for now.
The reporter held his up his watch as if waiting for a cue to start his broadcast. Josiah hit a button on his tablet and the reporter nodded. “Good day, sir.”
“What do you have for me, Gray?” Josiah asked.
“I just left Baghdad an hour ago under a hail of gunfire. If Akbar can unify or destroy the last vestige of insurgents, then we’ll have a full-fledged Mideast Union with Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Syria, and Egypt, and they have vowed to strike against the West and its Allies.”
“How confident are you in the unification? And I need a timetable.”
“Very high confidence unification will happen. Micro-drones and the satellite access you gave me have confirmed all of my intel. Thank you, by the way.”
“I'm taking that cost out of your pay,” Josiah said.
“How about we split the difference?”
“If you can nail down when the Mideast Union will be codified, then I can hedge against it in the market and I'll give you that as a bonus.”
“I need more time. Within a week I can tell you for sure—”
A high-pitched squeal drowned out Gray's voice.
“What was that?” Josiah asked, trying to place the familiar sound.
“No idea. My ears are still ringing from the battle zone I just came from. There was so much gunfire I—”
Josiah stepped off the treadmill. “Get out of there!” he shouted, realizing the sound was from one of Gate's bacta bombs.
Gray didn’t ask questions and rushed to the broken stucco building behind him. He kicked in a wooden door and rushed inside. The floating drone camera followed close behind. He ran through a dark hallway, and the camera automatically turned to night vision. A moment later there was a loud explosion close by. The camera shook. A cat ran by Gray's path, and he kicked it out of the way.
Dust and some light debris fell from the rotted ceiling. Gray ran into what appeared to be an abandoned bathroom. Another explosion rocked the building, and some of it collapsed. Gray flipped over an antique cast-iron bathtub and rested it on top of the toilet just over his head. The camera floated down as if to hide under it with him.
“It looks like it’s okay,” he said.
“No, it's not,” Josiah said, shutting down his treadmill.
“What do you mean?”
“Judging from the sound of the first explosion, that was close. In about twenty seconds you're gonna be breathing in toxic bacteria.”
“I have a rebreather in my haversack,” he said, trying to get out from under the tub.
“No use. I know this weapon. It's going to get in through the pores of your skin. Unless you can get another few miles away, you'll be dead in a few minutes.” Gray didn't say anything. Josiah was shocked at how much he would miss this contractor. He took pity on him and withheld the details on how painful a death it would be. Instead he asked, “Is there anything you want me to do?”
Gray started to say something but choked up. The camera picked up the avatar leaning over and vomiting up a dark liquid that Josiah knew was blood. In between vomiting Josiah heard the words, “wife,” “daughter,” and “love ’em.”
A few more seconds and it was over.
Josiah shut off the feed.
Brief thoughts on the pain Gray must have felt drifted into his mind. This biological weapon shut your entire nervous system down in seconds and destroyed your organs. The man died painfully, choking on his own blood. He forced the thought from his mind. Gray was well paid and had known his line of work was dangerous.
Josiah logged in to Gray's coded, payable account. He clearly had a wife and family to feed, and Josiah wanted to fulfill his obligation. He typed the standard fifty thousand euros into the payment queue for this session. The cursor blinked, waiting for him to press Send. He changed it to two hundred thousand euros. Again, the cursor waited for him to press Send. He would have to spend a tremendous amount of time backfilling Gray. During that time he could lose hundreds of millions in the market without the correct intel coming in. He changed the number back to fifty thousand euros and pressed Send. Josiah got back on the treadmill and continued running.
The rest of the day he avoided Lewis. He sent Carolyn a message to meet him for dinner, and assigned her husband to the graveyard shift that night. She never got back to him. This was a new tactic on her part. Clearly she was still upset from the snub. Maybe she had found out about Sally?
He pushed the thought out of his mind. The news would have reached him by now. He’d flirt with Carolyn, pepper her with compliments, and even manipulate her into a manufactured argument, which he would let her win. She’d give in. She always did.
Josiah spent the rest of the day and night reviewing scenarios where he might allow Bradley to partner with him. Each time it ended the same way. He wanted the man dead. He despised him too much to work with him, even if it equated to more profit.
Chapter Twelve
Outskirts of New Sacramento 2077
“Approaching Folsom
Lake,” Nova said. “With the drought, it’s a third smaller than what the map showed, but still deep enough for what we need.”
Landon reviewed data scrolling across the vid screen. “At the bottom of the lake are the remains of an old mining town. The foundations and structures will further mask the ship’s profile.”
Unlike the last body of water, this time the ship lowered into a thick murky soup. Objects floated past the cockpit window.
“What’s that?” Jane asked.
“Nothing.” Landon hit a button, and the metal shutters used in space travel started to close over the windshield. Suddenly a severed human head brushed up against the glass, keeping the shutters from closing. Jane screamed at the eyeless face with a frozen expression of torment. Landon opened the shutters and the head floated away, and the ship continued to descend. The darkness of the lake engulfed the ship like a monster swallowing its prey. Another attempt with the shutters, and they closed this time.
“Nova?”
“No ID on any DNA in the lake.”
“Why?” was all Jane could say.
“Someone dumped bodies and other toxic materials in this lake to spoil the water and to spread disease. You can have all the tech, meds, and troops in the world, but without clean water sources, you’re impotent. My guess is it was New America who did it. It sends a psychological message as well.”
Landon got up. “I’m going to take the sled out to poke around.”
“I’m not going to be able to rest knowing I’m sitting in a cauldron of death.”
“Nova will keep you company.” Jane gave him a stern look as if to tell him that wasn’t good enough. “The entire world’s a cauldron of death, Jane. Take some comfort that your husband is trying to do something about it.”
“I thought you said the mission trip was a waste of his time?”
“I do think that.” Landon exhaled. “But my son’s ten times the man I am.”
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