by Kim J. West
“I need to see all of it first then we discuss.”
“There will be no negotiating this time, Carter. I will get everything I demand or the deal is off.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Five million dollars.”
I laughed humorlessly for his benefit, though I found nothing funny in that moment. “For that price, I would rather let it go live, Weiner. I could get famous with this and get even richer.”
“But it will be bad for you and the girl,” he sputtered.
“Not for the price you are asking. If it goes live, I’d rather spend the five million suing any outlet that published it, as well as suing you both criminally and civilly.”
He paused while he considered my words.
“What are you offering?” he asked, clearly willing to make a deal.
“Let’s meet first. I want a full copy of the footage and I’ll tell you what it’s worth.”
“Let me think about it, Carter, and I will call you this week.”
I wasn’t having it. I needed this settled immediately.
“No, Weiner. We meet in an hour at a place of your choosing. If it’s not today then all negotiations are off.”
He sighed heavily.
“I’ll text you a place to meet in an hour.”
I cut the phone without saying goodbye then called Jackson to come up to the penthouse.
Chapter Twenty-One
When handling a crisis I entered my detached mode where I’d take every necessary step impersonally until I reached the desired conclusion.
I sent a text to my mother.
“Something important has come up. I can’t make brunch. I’ll be there for dinner at 7. x.”
I went downstairs fully dressed and found Jackson standing in the hallway. I led him into my office.
“Jackson, do you know a guy called Reginald Weiner?”
He thought for a moment.
“Yes, it’s that sleaze ball photographer whose camera you broke a while back.”
I was impressed he remembered.
“Yes, that one. I’m going to meet him in just under an hour. He has explicit footage of me and Miss Williams and wants to sell it to me.”
I saw the look of consternation on his face. “Where was it filmed, sir?”
“From here. He must have used a powerful camera from another building.”
“Do you want me to find out where?”
“No,” I quickly replied, knowing he might need to share the footage with several experts to analyze which angle was used. “I want you to go ahead of me to the meeting venue, secure the place, search Reginald and all the usual security measures you need to take. It could be a trap, but I’m pretty sure he has some footage.”
Just then Reginald sent a text.
“Cheshire Bridge Rd. Teasers Strip Club. Noon. Come alone.”
I checked my watch; it was just after 11.00am.
I forwarded the text to Jackson. “I’ll be there around 2.00pm; I’ll keep him waiting as part of my strategy.”
I opened the safe under my desk.
“How much do you think a club like Teasers makes per day, Jackson?”
“Peak, maybe ten grand per day. But Sunday afternoon, probably around two grand or less.”
I pulled out a brand new wad of ten thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills and handed it to him.
“I want the club cleared for my meeting from noon until after I leave; I’ll be in and out in fifteen minutes. This should cover whatever costs you encounter.”
Jackson nodded and put the money in his inside pocket.
“I need all copies of that footage to be destroyed,” I said, giving him a meaningful look.
“Got it.”
Jackson would leave in the Tahoe. I’d follow later by cab.
After he’d left, I called the restaurant and ordered a lunch of poached chicken breast and mixed vegetables. I’d lost my appetite but I didn’t want hunger as a factor that could affect my meeting with Weiner.
While waiting for my meal to arrive, I called George the concierge and told him I’d like my entire penthouse to have the windows tinted as soon as possible; something cameras can’t film through.
After George had confirmed he’d handle it, I called my personal lawyer, Gus McCoy and told him I’d meet him at his office tomorrow Monday at 9.00am, then called my personal accountant Yusuf Khan to join us for that meeting at 9.30am.
My lunch arrived soon after and I ate my food barely tasting it; thinking through the various scenarios I’d encounter. If it wasn’t for Lena’s involvement, I’d probably be less concerned about the outcome. I remembered the thugs who’d spewed rude insults at her last night and how I’d taken them down with my “enter the dragon” moves. What Weiner had done was ten times worse; he’d pay dearly. Once I’d secured the footage and protected Lena, Weiner would be destroyed.
I left the penthouse at 1.00pm, in the cab arranged for me by George.
I arrived at the strip club and called Jackson who met me outside, surreptitiously handing me a small voice recorder. I placed it in my front pocket.
I entered the club headed to the single occupied table in the center of the room. The club was deathly quiet and not a stripper, barman or waitress was in sight, and the club was brightly lit. Jackson had done more than I expected. Weiner thought he’d taken us into his territory and we’d taken it over; he had to know we were in control.
I approached Weiner who was sitting alone, looking impatient and intimidated. He was about six feet tall, and weighed about four hundred pounds. He wore a pair of cargo shorts with bulky pockets and a thin, short sleeved shirt that was tucked in, emphasizing his man boobs. On his feet he wore hiking boots and thick socks. His reddish-gray hair was styled in an eighties mullet and he sported an unkempt beard.
When he saw me, he stood up with an angry look on his face.
“What the fuck is going on?” he shouted. “Your minder practically strip searched me and this club is not usually like this. Then you kept me waiting for almost two hours. And you were supposed to come alone. What the hell?”
“Sit down and shut the fuck up, Weiner,” I snapped through gritted teeth.
He sat down automatically, intimidated by my aggressive approach. If he thought I’d be here to grovel, he had another thing coming.
“Let’s see it,” I added rudely.
He fumbled with his cell phone, then turned it to me; I watched about thirty seconds of what was a five minute clip, then handed the phone back to him. He had a lecherous look on his face.
“That bitch you got there really knows how to give head,” he sneered. “Maybe you could throw her in as part of the deal.”
I wanted to crush his face with my bare hands, but I had a job to do. If I showed any protective emotion to a ruthless fucker like Weiner, he’d see it as a weak spot and try to exploit it. I pretended to ignore his comment.
“As part of the deal, I will have all copies of the footage. How many copies are there?”
“I’ve made a few back-up copies, in case you try to stiff me. Here’s yours,” he added, handing me a flash drive.
I put it in my pocket.
“Who else has seen it?” I demanded.
“Listen, I’m not stupid, ok? This is my lottery ticket and nobody knows I have it.”
“Where are the copies secured?
“Trust me, they are secured,” he promised, giving me a stupid grin.
“Why are you doing this, Weiner?”
“Because I need money,” he replied as though it was perfectly normal to extort.
“So you are blackmailing me because you need money?”
“Exactly,” he replied emphatically.
“You do know it’s illegal for you to record me then release that footage?”
He laughed and shook his head. “You won’t report me, Carter. Not unless you want this to go public.”
I stood up. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow. Be re
ady to meet in Midtown around 2.00pm to finalize.”
“What about the money?” he cried. “I thought we’d negotiate now.”
“When we meet tomorrow, we will make our offer,” I replied walking to the exit.
“Who’s ‘we’?” he called after me.
I walked out without answering him and headed to the Tahoe parked close to the exit. Jackson was waiting in the driver’s seat and I jumped into the front passenger seat and we drove off, headed back to Buckhead.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When we arrived at the penthouse, I asked Jackson to accompany me upstairs for a debriefing. We entered my home office and I pulled out the recording device Jackson had given me and handed it to him.
“We are meeting tomorrow to make Weiner an offer,” I told Jackson but he interrupted.
“Sir, I believe we can locate the footage and destroy it without paying him, using my connections...”
I raised my hand to silence him.
“That’s fine, but I don’t think I should know the details; plausible deniability and all that.”
He nodded. “Understood, sir.”
“Besides, I want him to have a taste of that hard cash, but hopefully he’ll have it for as brief a time as possible?” I asked, giving Jackson another meaningful look.
He gave me a rare smile. “I will personally arrange the drop off sir.”
I concurred. In the time Jackson had been with me, his job had evolved from driver and security to body-man and personal aide. He handled a myriad of tasks I needed done. He’d handled high value targets and dangerous terrorists for the US government; handling scum like Weiner was no worse than taking out the garbage to him.
Just then, a call came on the landline. It was George wanting to come up with the window tinting crew to measure the windows. On a Sunday? I wondered out loud. I guess that’s why George was in the position; he made things happen quickly. I asked Jackson to escort them in and show them around, while I made a few overdue calls to Dixon and Pike. I had to inform them that since I was busy for the next couple of days, they’d have to arrange the Miami details without me; I’d still travel with them to Florida. I had a good staff and had to trust they were capable of handling things without me micro-managing every step.
After everybody had left, I plugged the flash drive into an offline netbook and watched the whole five minute clip. It was certainly graphic, with my face drawn with lust and Lena sucking my dick vigorously. My dick was visible a few times and her side profile was only visible for a split second. Only a person who knew about us would be able to piece together that it was her. I put the flash drive in my hidden safe in the wall then decided to focus on work for a little while.
I began replying a few emails that I knew I wouldn’t have time to handle tomorrow. I wouldn’t have time to go to the office with this Weiner distraction; so I covered as much as I could, typing rapidly and in some cases, sending voice notes instead.
By the time I’d finished my work, it was 6.30pm and time to go to the Strauss Carter mansion to have dinner with my parents. I had a brief moment to think about Lena. My finger hovered over her number as I debated whether to call her to see how she was, but then I thought of the crisis unfolding and knew I couldn’t speak to her until I had at least secured the footage. I knew I liked her, for more than just the sex. Lena was incredible. I got excited whenever we’d be spending time together. I wanted a real relationship with her, despite the obstacles in my way. I thought of my parents’ reaction if they ever found out about Lena. I definitely knew my mother would have a problem with it; even the idea of dating Isabella was abhorrent to her. And Lena herself; she’d probably come up with some type of excuse why we couldn’t date publicly.
Each time I spent time with her, I never knew if I’d ever see her again in this way. Lena was an enigma; she kept me constantly red-lined with the incredible sex and yet was keeping me flat-lined with the threat that I could lose her forever at any moment.
After dinner at my parents, I went home early, wiped out with all the trash that had gone on. My mother finally believed I wasn’t marrying Isabella and I filled my father in with all the details of California and also for Miami in the coming week. I made no mention of the Weiner blackmail; that was personal.
Next morning I woke up early to do my weights session, then Jackson and I headed for my attorney McCoy’s office in Midtown. We traveled in separate cars; Jackson had work to do.
As I entered the office, all the ladies who worked there began primping and preening themselves for my attention. In the past I had indulged them and flirted a little, but today I wasn’t in the mood, I phoned Janice and walked through the building ignoring them, headed for McCoy’s office at the far corner.
I opened the door without knocking while finishing my instructions to Janice and informing her I’d be working from another location today and she must email me for any urgent issues. I instructed her to inform Pike and Dixon to reach me through her and that she must also be prepared to go with us to Miami, to help with all the documentation. Ignoring her apparent excitement at traveling with us, I cut the call and sat down on my lawyer’s couch.
“McCoy, we have an urgent matter that needs to be handled,” I began.
I liked McCoy; he was my first personal attorney who represented my personal interests when I turned eighteen. He was now in his mid sixties, had a stern personality and prided himself in being totally ruthless. I explained to him about the blackmail from Weiner who he remembered from our last lawsuit, then showed him the ten second clip on my cell phone. He remained stony faced and sat back in his chair, thinking for a moment.
“Well legally, he can’t sell or distribute this material. According to Georgia law, this is basically unlawful surveillance and invasion of privacy. We could get him locked up for at least three years.”
I sat forward. “McCoy, you know very well that I don’t want this publicized.”
He raised his hand. “I know, I was just giving you the legal background. How much does he want?”
“He asked for five million.”
McCoy snorted and shook his head. “Let’s offer him two thousand, tops. I could have my friend from the FBI in here to intimidate him.”
I laughed but disagreed. “No, McCoy. I want him to get the money and hold it in his hands, then my people will retrieve it from there.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I like it. But I can’t get involved in that side; can’t get my hands dirty.”
“No problem; my guys will handle it. What I want is for you to draw up an agreement, drive a hard bargain so its legit then we sign.”
“What about the security of the footage that he has probably copied? Do you want me to get a team on it?”
“I’m leaving that to my security.”
“And the girl? How well do you know her? Are you sure she’s not a honey trap working with the photographer for a cut?”
“No,” I snapped. “Definitely not.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m your attorney, I have to talk shop with you.”
“Appreciated.” I nodded.
After we’d discussed the clauses of the contract and he had a rough draft, McCoy’s secretary announced the arrival of my accountant Khan and ushered him into the office.
Khan was a financial whizz and ran his own firm, handling only three other high value clients besides me. Anything money related, I let him handle. He was American but his parents were born in India and had immigrated before he was born. I attended Harvard with him and he possibly knew more shit about me than anybody else, besides my lawyer and Jackson. Just as well they’d all signed non-disclosure agreements to protect my privacy.
“Khan, I’m being blackmailed by a photographer who recorded a sex tape of me. I need to know how much we can afford to pay him off from my entertainment expenses,” I asked.
He opened his eyes wide for a moment then straightened his tie. “Well,” he said taking out his calculator and tapping
on it rapidly. “I guess since it’s a special circumstance or irregular expenditure, we could do up to … three million?”
All three of us discussed figures for several minutes and we both agreed on a final offer of one hundred thousand; primarily because it was the right amount to fit into a slim briefcase. Khan would arrange for the cash to be delivered to Jackson.
“You know this guy is a real low-life,” I warned McCoy who would do the negotiations.
McCoy laughed coldly. “I know; I dealt with him before, remember? Leave it to me; he’ll accept that offer.”
When we finished, I moved to my lawyer’s board room and switched on my laptop, quickly replying the most urgent work emails. Afterwards, I called Weiner and told him to go meet McCoy at his office at 2.00pm, then cut the phone while he was still talking. I had nothing further to say to him.
When I met Jackson, he had a former military security and computer specialist with him, who he’d be working with to secure the footage. I left it to them to arrange the details, then spoke separately to Jackson about arranging delivery of the money with Khan within a few days. Again, I left the details of that arrangement up to him, since I’d be traveling to Miami.
Next morning, Jackson called to say he was coming up to give me an important report. I waited.
By noon he entered my home office and sat down, looking as though he hadn’t slept all night.
He took a deep breath then spoke in a rush. “We have secured the footage, sir.”
I felt tension leaving my shoulders instantly.
“How many copies were there?”
“Three flash drives, his cell phone, the camera memory card, in his online storage accounts, on his laptop and on his desktop in his apartment.”
“Are you sure that’s all of it?”
“Pretty sure, sir. But there is something else I found.”
“What is it?”
“I secured the surveillance footage from the buildings that have a vantage point to your windows and I discovered which building and room Weiner was in.”