Miranda's War
Page 20
“He’ll see you,” she said to Miranda and let her in without calling him.
“Close the door,” he said when she was inside his office.
He opened his arms and swept her off her feet.
“You’re brilliant. You did so well!”
Then he went to his desk and touched a button on his console launching a PowerPoint presentation. Maps of each of the snob-zoning towns with red dots signifying each targeted property appeared and then disappeared as he zipped through them. He’d already selected thirty-seven.
“Sure, I’m not going to end up with all of them. But my guys are out there now making offers, discreetly, of course. We’ll get some. And we’re looking at closing fifteen to twenty in the next thirty days. Some I’ll flip as soon as the deal is reached. Some I’ll develop. I figure five to ten million in profits by the end of the fiscal year. And it’s all because of you, my dear.”
“I don’t want any of it. Not a dime. I have money coming. It’s not a lot of money in the larger scheme of things, but I can pay my own way in the world, whether we’re together or not. And that lets me focus on other things, like you.”
He kissed her.
“I like your attitude,” he said. “It complements mine so well.”
“Let’s go out of town this weekend,” she said.
“Where to, Montreal?”
“Surprise me. We’ll go to the airport. You take me to a gate. And I find out. I just need to get the hell out of here for a bit to breathe some air that hasn’t been polluted.”
“I know the perfect place.”
“And the Republicans are going to need a new candidate to replace Rokeby. That means a convention next week to pick a replacement. I could do it.”
He laughed.
“You might learn the party faithful aren’t interested in what you’re offering.”
“I’m free, Tony. There’s no deal with Samuelson. I can go in there and say, keep up the boycott, expand it, never say die. And Archer can’t touch me.”
“I actually might like the excitement—as long as it doesn’t hurt my business.”
“Hurt? I just made you millions today.”
Miranda spent the rest of the afternoon prioritizing the offers and dispensing background information on some of the owners. At 4:30 she announced she felt like having a drink and wanted to leave for the day. They went to the lobby, then to the parking elevator and up to the fourth floor of the garage. Miranda told Tony she’d forgotten a notepad and needed to go back to the office. She went to the garage elevator, rode up a floor and made her way to Ted’s assigned space where his Jaguar was parked. She withdrew a pocketknife from her handbag, pulled out the largest blade and crouched by the front passenger-side tire. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, folded up the knife and walked back to the elevators. Her tire-slashing days were behind her.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Howard Foster
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3955-0
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