I didn’t really follow his logic, or his country logic, as the case may be. I looked at the piles of crap around his office and shook my head. “So, all of this, you’ll give to me?”
“I know, it’s a real gold mine. But if you stay alive long enough, you might be able to do something. You can tell my current clients that I had to leave to go take care of my sick Aunt Betty or something. After a while, they’ll forget I ever existed.”
“I’d need to get a PI license.”
“I suppose. It helps in certain cases.” He walked around his desk and held out his hand. I shook it gently.
“Ozzie, you’re a brave man for sticking around. Crazy, but brave.”
He walked out of the office.
“Hey, do you have keys to this garage?”
He pulled out his key chain, unhooked a key, and tossed it to me. “So you’re going to give the PI business a run?”
“Just keeping my options open.”
He nodded and took one step, but then he held up. “By the way, the first thing I’d do if I were you would be to put together your own SHTF bag.”
“Thanks for the advice, Ray. Good luck.”
He walked out of the garage, leaving me all alone, with bloody rags and a lot of questions.
31
With his elbows anchored on the armrests of his high-back leather chair—imported from Italy, of course—the man at the top of the organizational food chain steepled his fingers and listened intently to his chief operating officer, a thirty-two-year veteran in the industry.
The silver-haired executive had this annoying tick, where his right eye would blink uncontrollably at the most unpredictable times. As he rattled off the highlights that would be communicated to the Wall Street analysts in the quarterly call the next day, the CEO couldn’t help but be distracted by the eye that had a mind of its own.
“Which of my options do you think we should go with, Mr. Drake?” he asked, followed by two quick, involuntary winks.
Drake forced himself to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows to the darkening skies—anything to bite his tongue and not crack a joke about his right-hand man’s condition. As he gazed across the Austin skyline that was bordered by Lady Bird Lake to the south and the state capitol on the north, he drew irony from his current meeting. In terms of architectural evolution and relevance in the business world, the development of high-rise apartment and office buildings in Austin had grown exponentially in the last ten years—the amount of time he’d been at Vista Labs. It had been like…the blink of an eye.
“You know, Tony, time is only pertinent when analyzing the cost benefit of the measurement being used.” He spoke while counting the number of construction cranes in his current view. He preferred that to looking at his top lieutenant.
There was a silence. He smiled inwardly. He loved to baffle the members of his executive team. Sure, he knew they thought he was either too brilliant to relate to them or was starting to lose his marbles. Either way, he had an iron grip on the company, and there were only a couple things that could change that. The board, at times, was challenging. But what better way to exercise his broad skill set, one that had started years before on the inner-city streets of Dallas? It was possible for someone to connect enough dots to land a big pile of crap at his feet.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Drake.”
Tony was placating him. He would have rather heard Tony attempt to understand the meaning behind his words. A verbal debate was good for the brain.
“You’ve been around a long time, Tony. What do you think we should tell the analysts tomorrow?”
“Well, sir…” Tony cleared his throat, then shuffled through a mound of papers spread across his lap. There was an elongated pause. He knew Tony was struggling with making the final decision. Making decisions—the tough ones—wasn’t one of Tony’s strengths, which is why Drake loved to watch him wiggle.
His mind wandered back to the day it was announced that he’d been selected as CEO and chairman of the board at Vista Labs. After many handshakes and even a toast of champagne with the board members, he had ushered his newly inherited executive team into a conference room and asked his new administrative assistant, Martha, to remove all the chairs.
“It’s been a real honor working with many of you in the last few years. I’ve learned a lot, which has allowed me to shine. And for that, I thank you.”
Everyone in the room had smiled, although he could see a hint of uncertainty since they were all standing up. He stuck his hand in his pocket, offering a casual pose. “I’m going to need two things from you as we get started on this journey together.”
“We’re ready to tackle the world,” one of the younger executives said with a fist pump in the air.
“Nice,” he said, although he thought the guy was a worthless piece of shit. “Anyway, I need for you, at all times, to call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Drake.’”
The team glanced at each other and then back to the front of the rectangular room. They all nodded, and a smattering of okays were heard from the crowd. He set his jaw. They didn’t understand. He put his hand to his ear. “I didn’t quite hear that correctly, did I?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Drake,” the ass-kisser said with another fist pump. The kid was quick, if nothing else.
The rest of the team chimed in as well.
“Just so you know, I don’t have any type of power trip going on here. My roots are humble. But I spent so much time being disrespected, called every name in the book, I figured that my new title should be accompanied by the proper amount of respect. I’m sure you can see my point of view on that, right?”
More nods. He froze for a second, waiting, and then they all showered him with praise. Satisfied, he looked at his watch. It was just after one in the afternoon. “So, your first task is rather simple. I need you to stay right here where you’re standing until I get back to check on you.”
Now the head nods came more slowly.
“Mr. Drake, sir, I’m late for a meeting right now, and I have meetings all afternoon,” said the woman who headed up the Procurement Department. “So, if it’s okay, I’ll be heading off to my office when you’re done.”
He chuckled. “You have no meetings on your schedule.”
“Actually,” she said with a nervous giggle, “my phone is going off in my pocket. So, I really need to run, but I know you have something to say, so I won’t be disrespectful…uh, sir.”
He waved a hand across his face, as if he were casting a spell over them. “I said, no you don’t. Are you going to dispute that?”
No one blinked.
“No, sir,” she said as her face turned as red as a tomato.
“Well, then, I will see you tomorrow morning.”
He turned and walked to the door as whispers filled the room. Before he left, someone finally asked, “Are you really serious? Tomorrow morning?”
He flipped on his heels. “You bet your ass.” He pointed to the corner, where a small camera was positioned. “I’ll be watching. If anyone moves from their spot, they’re gone.”
They all grumbled.
“Sir, Mr. Drake, you’ve got to be kidding,” the woman said. “This isn’t humane. We have work to get done. We have to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom. I have to take my daughter to soccer practice later. Now, if we were to plan some type of lock-in and make it a team-building exercise, I think that would do us a world of good.”
He stared her down. “Do you enjoy your paycheck and all of your little perks?”
She nodded like a five-year-old.
“That’s what I thought. So if you want that to continue, you’ll do what I ask. And remember this: above anything else, I expect loyalty. I demand loyalty.”
No one moved.
The one with the fist-pumps finally broke the silence. “We’ll run through a wall for you, sir, but we have families and other commitments. It’s just not possible. I’m not sure it’s legal, for that matter.”
Drake took one step forward. He could f
eel his veins throbbing at his temples. “This isn’t a court of law, man. It’s a company that I control.” He raised a closed fist. “And I’ll run it the way I see fit. Tomorrow morning—let’s see who really wants it.”
He left the room and came back nineteen hours later. The only person left was Tony. Still standing. His knees were knocking, his right eye fluttering nonstop, but he was there. When he asked Tony what had made him keep standing, even after everyone else had left, he had replied with a simple, “Because you asked us to.”
And that was why Tony was his COO. Since then, he’d hired a lot of Tonys on his team.
Loyalty. If a leader had that, he could conquer the world, as that dipshit had said.
He pulled his eyes off the glow of the city lights and turned to face Tony. “I know you’re nervous about the status of the vote with the FDA in two days. But trust me on this: it will go through.”
Tony scratched his forehead. “If we tell the analysts that we have high confidence in this new Alzheimer’s drug being approved, then, sir, uh…well, we have to come through. If not, then our eighty-five-dollar stock price will be shredded within twenty-four hours.”
Drake’s phone buzzed on his desk. He picked it up to read a text message, responded, and set it back down, steepling his fingers again. “Tony, I’m glad you’re on my team.”
“Thank you, sir.” Tony’s smile was strained, as if he were bracing for the next statement.
“You know how much I appreciate your loyalty.”
“Yes sir.”
“But have I told you which value I hold second highest?”
“No sir, I don’t believe so.”
“Respect of my intelligence.”
“Right, sir. Well, I think you’re very bright, sir.”
Tony wasn’t being honest, but he let it ride. “Just have confidence in my ability to navigate these drug-approval waters, okay?”
“I have great confidence in you, sir, but we did have that one mishap where—”
Drake chopped his hand downward. “It’s been taken care of, right?”
“I guess so, although it was just kind of luck.”
“Luck only happens to those who work the hardest and deserve it the most. Don’t forget that.”
Just then Martha opened the door to his office. “You have a call.”
He looked to the landline sitting on his desk. No lights were blinking.
She added, “The one in your top-left drawer.”
He dismissed Tony.
32
Mr. Drake waited until his office had emptied, then removed the spare phone from his drawer and punched up the call.
“What have you heard?” he asked without an introduction.
“No ‘hello’ or ‘how’s your golf game?’ You’re usually pretty good with the foreplay.”
“Very funny. I just know that you like to get straight to it.” He wasn’t used to cowering to anyone, but in this particular relationship, it was a necessary evil if Vista Labs intended to remain a viable company, and if he hoped to see his net worth climb above a hundred million.
“I guess you do know me quite well. Hold on one second.”
Mr. Drake swung his chair around to face north. In between the thirty- and forty-story buildings that were all in some form of construction, he could see the outline of the state capitol. The power brokers of the state seemed so close in many ways, but in reality, they were in their own protective bubble. To a degree, the same could be said for his world. But he knew if he didn’t deliver what was promised to the analysts, the board would revolt against him as if he had a venereal disease.
Of course, that had nothing to do with Alzheimer’s, the disease that had ruined so many lives across this great land. He could envision the adulation he’d receive once their drug was on the front page of every website, the greatest breakthrough in modern medicine in the last thirty years.
He could hear the man on the other line yelling at his staffers. Then, he came back on the line.
“Everything’s okay, I hope,” Mr. Drake said.
“Sure, just some ineptitude. You can’t imagine what I have to deal with in my government position.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s unimaginable. So, I’m assuming that you called to tell me that you’ve spoken to your contact in DC?”
“I have. And she’s not fond of the way you’ve gone about your business, Mr. Drake.”
How the hell had she found out?
“And I have to admit, I’m not either. It’s messy. And if you know anything about politics, we tend to steer clear of anything that is soiled.”
Harking back to the first days when he’d joined Vista Labs as a salesman, Mr. Drake called upon his experience to close the deal. “Every operation of this magnitude has to deal with some unpleasant aspects. It’s part of doing business. You yourself just mentioned the ineptitude of your own staff, and I would imagine you handpicked the best of the best. I haven’t been dealing with the crème de la crème of society.”
That drew a chuckle from the other end of the line. Drake smiled as his confidence surged. “Six months ago, after your initial investment, we were looking at the process taking three to four years. Now, we’re on the verge of our dreams coming true.”
“It has been an amazing project to watch from afar, Mr. Drake.”
“So, can I be assured that you’ll hold up your end of the deal?”
“Of course. We all win. Society wins, right?”
Not exactly, but he’d have his own island near Tahiti when it all came out. “Indeed.”
They ended their call. He walked over to where his coat was hung and typed in a quick text to the other person who’d been vital to this project. The fact that she was the hottest piece of ass he’d ever touched was an extra benefit.
Just need to run a quick errand, and then I’ll pick you up for the big event.
And out the door he went. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and no one could stop him.
33
The glow of the lone light affixed to the back of the building made it seem like Tomas had a halo just above his head. This made Alfonso think about a picture from Vacation Bible School as a child. A picture of Jesus. It kind of worked, since Tomas was standing at the top of the steps, acting like a preacher. He was spouting off about how they were going to rule their world with their new money and power.
“You hearing me, bro? We’re going to the bank like nobody’s bidness. I’m telling ya,” Tomas said, smacking one hand into the other.
Alfonso glanced up and down the dark alley—the same alley where they’d knocked off that old man in the glasses. It was a little strange being back at the same place. Other than the fact that a Buick wasn’t parked in the middle of the alley, the setting hadn’t changed much. Garbage littered the space, it still smelled like rotten eggs, and there was a seam of light through the cracked door of the bakery and, of course, the thumping music.
Alfonso still had the man’s briefcase back at his pad. The leather was nice and smooth. He’d found a bunch of papers in there with colorful charts. But what stood out was the repetitive use of certain words: “danger,” “warning,” “conspiracy.” He’d tried to piece together what this guy was trying to communicate—some type of shit going down around the development of a new drug and how it affected the brain. It hadn’t taken long for him to get lost in all the biological terminology. It had given him a headache. Still, it made him think about why they were given the job of ending that man’s life. The guy was probably going to snitch to someone important.
Alfonso took a pull on his joint, closed his eyes briefly, and felt a tingle spread into his extremities.
“What you doing smoking dope at a time like this? It’s time to celebrate, bro.”
“I hear ya, Tomas. I’m excited, just like you. Honestly, it’s the kind of break I’ve been hoping to get for a long time. My whole life, it seems.”
Tomas hopped over the railing of the stairs with
the nimbleness of a cat. Alfonso had heard stories of Tomas tearing up the competition on the soccer field before he got sucked up by the tornadic winds of MS-13. They all had been lured in by promises of gaining respect, getting even with the establishment for not giving them the same opportunities as others.
“Yo, dog, what you going to get when you get paid?”
Alfonso followed Tomas’s gaze up to the sky, where a crescent moon illuminated thin clouds.
Before Alfonso could respond, Tomas started jittering his body like he was dancing while yammering away about buying three, four, five cars, all with custom wheels and chassis.
“Sorry, dude. I’m letting my dreams take center stage. What about you?” Tomas asked, his hyperactivity dialed back a bit.
“I don’t know. I like to see the money before I get my hopes up. You know what I mean?”
“You got trust issues, Alfonso. This is happening, right here and now.” Tomas pulled out his phone and checked the time. “Okay, I realize he’s ten minutes late, but don’t worry, man. He told me that this is just the beginning. He’s got big plans for you and me. We’ve shown our loyalty, and now it’s time to cash in.”
Alfonso nodded in agreement, but he was having a difficult time controlling his nerves. In fact, it felt like one of those giant armadillos that had been digging up the foundation at his mom’s place was clawing through his stomach. He tried to pinpoint the exact cause of his anxiety. He’d tried to forget the terrified look on that man’s face just before he shot him. But being back in the alley brought those memories back again tenfold, and it didn’t settle well. He sighed. What’s done is done. Can’t undo the deed. The guy had crossed the line with Boss Man, and he had to pay the price. End of discussion.
A thread of excitement was also front and center. He couldn’t help but envision the look on Lupita’s face when he showed her the wad of cash and shared with her how he’d be bringing in big bucks from that day forward. But he was most looking forward to picking up a couple of gold ropes to wear around his neck. People would see him coming from a block away. It would bring far more respect than any kind of cheap-ass tat.
ON Edge (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 1) (Redemption Thriller Series 13) Page 17