by Matt Rogers
‘How about an upgrade?’ Slater said, twirling the hundred-thousand dollar chips in his pants pocket.
23
‘What the fuck?!’ Forrest roared at the top of his lungs.
Emotion overwhelmed him. Unable to help himself, he launched the chair underneath him away from the grand oak dining table, letting it tumble across the floor. His veins surging with fury, he sprinted to the nearest wall of the lavish penthouse and gouged three consecutive holes in the plaster with the toe of his trainer. Teeth clenched, forehead sweating, his horror reached a boiling point and he smashed his temple into the wall, over and over again, beating the anger out of himself the only way he knew how.
When his fit of destruction had ceased, he stumbled away from the stretch of wall, panting with exertion, disoriented but still seething. Three of his most trusted members of security stood on the other side of the table, their hands clasped behind their backs, their faces white in reaction to the sudden outburst.
They knew that Forrest had his limits regarding how far he was willing to take things, but they also knew those limits melted away when his fury took hold.
By now, the anger had reached a previously unseen level.
‘How the fuck is this possible?’ Forrest demanded, his voice shaking as he struggled to control his tone.
He raised a finger and pointed accusingly to the laptop still resting on the broad wooden table’s surface. Its screen displayed a listing of secure accounts — accounts that had been acting as his personal safety net for as long as he could remember.
Accounts that now lay uniformly empty.
He deliberately conducted all his illegal business dealings in the safety of these accounts, which had cost him a small fortune to set up in a jurisdiction with effective bank secrecy laws.
Over the years they had slowly compounded in value as the extent of his dirty work magnified — as he’d realised earlier, the corruption had single-handedly taken over his life by this point. He was knee-deep in shit, and the hundreds of millions of dollars that his efforts had produced were now wiped off the face of the planet.
Even thinking about the house of cards his entire empire was perched on had him considering going straight for his bedroom dresser and blowing his brains out with the 9mm resting within.
No safety net meant no ability to make repayments. The financial demands were coming from everywhere at once, and Forrest had been dangerously close to tapping into the reserves he’d never previously touched.
Now, he had nothing to fall back on.
Mountain Lion — and everything he’d ever worked for — would crumble unless he got that money back.
‘We don’t know,’ one of the men said. He was a small Filipino man — scared out of his mind at what Forrest might do. They’d heard rumours of his temperament. Now they were seeing it in the flesh.
‘Who could have done this?’ Forrest said. ‘I’m the only one with encrypted information about those accounts, but there’s only a handful of people who would even know the right place to look.’
‘I—’ one of the other men started.
But Forrest’s mind had taken off, racing through potential scenarios. ‘Look, there’s no point hiding the existence of those accounts anymore. I need that money. I need to take risks. I’ll deal with the accounting later — that’s a fucking breeze if you have the right people. But I need that money back. I want you to put the casino’s entire tech team on this. They’re the best of the best. Trace literally everything. You got it?’
‘Sir, are you sure that’s the best idea?’
‘Of course it’s not. But what’s the alternative? I take too much care and the entire payload slips away. This is a time sensitive situation, you dumb fucks. Get everyone on it. Find where the transfer took place.’
‘We can do that … but then everyone in Mountain Lion’s backrooms knows about those accounts. It’s not hard to work out you didn’t get half a billion dollars in reserves by any legal measures.’
‘Fuck it. I don’t get that money back and I’m toast. Like I said, creative accounting fixes everything. Nothing gets fixed if I’m too sensitive about this.’
‘How bad is it, boss?’ the third guy on the end said.
Forrest’s life had become so chaotic that he couldn’t remember the names of the men and women who worked for him. There were literally thousands of workers on his payroll, and the people who reported directly to him — regarding both legitimate and illegitimate business dealings — had by this point blurred into a constant string of concerned faces.
It seemed, in this business, no notable news was ever good.
But Forrest remembered this man.
He was as short as his comrades — no more than five foot six, with a skinny, hunched posture and skin the colour of caramel. Another Filipino guy, but Forrest always remembered him for the bags underneath his eyes and his unwavering loyalty to the job. He rarely asked questions, and when he did, it was because every atom of his being was desperate for information. Underneath the timid exterior, he was concerned for his employer.
Forrest allowed him a response, opening up for one of the first times in his life.
‘It’s bad,’ he said. ‘I borrowed far too much money to pay for this place, and I’m scared no amount of revenue is going to get me ahead. I was going to tap into those accounts to buy me time to pay back my debtors, but now that I have nothing they’re going to come for my head. This isn’t even considering all the legal ramifications. Mountain Lion will close, but I’ll be murdered long before that. I need this fucking money, boys. I need time. To make everything right.’
‘Using the tech team is a bold move, sir. I don’t know what they can do, in any case. These accounts are next-level.’
‘Some of them will have answers. I studied all their backgrounds before I hired them. I remember it. Some of them were dangerous goddamn people. I hired them because I don’t ordinarily give a shit about that kind of thing, but there’s enough ability in that unit to track the trail of bread crumbs and find out exactly what happened.’
‘Who knows about the accounts?’
‘No-one knows the details.’
‘But who knows of their existence?’
Forrest paused, thinking hard. There were certain members of his entourage who were in the madness just as deep as he was. He must have mentioned it to a handful of them, somewhere in the maze of illegalities they discussed on a daily basis. If the conversation moved from drugs to guns to girls, who was he to assume he’d never mentioned where those profits ended up?
Suddenly, he remembered a certain encounter. Only hours ago. Any kind of odd behaviour came roaring to the forefront of his mind and he recalled a phone conversation with two certain triad members who he’d never heard sound so panicked when he’d asked them to quiz a certain baccarat dealer. He hadn’t realised it at the time, but now it stood out like nothing else.
He’d been talking to them about the accounts just days earlier, he realised. He hadn’t mentioned anything concrete, but they would have understood that he had hundreds of millions of dollars piled in a single online location. No matter how many loopholes they might have had to jump through, and no matter what level of resources they had to utilise, they could have thrown caution to the wind and simply gone for it.
Could it be possible?
Dark emotions forming in the pit of his stomach, he said, ‘Where the fuck are Tak and Antoine?’
If anything came back to imply their guilt, it would be their heads on the chopping block. He didn’t give a shit who they worked for.
The whole triad can get it, he thought, enraged.
In that moment, Peter Forrest was ready to take on the whole world.
24
Slater made it to the twenty-second floor of the luxury hotel complex in a thickly-carpeted elevator before he realised he couldn’t even remember the name of the place he’d booked a room at. He hadn’t bothered to check, instead simply trawling the streets wit
h Shien in a state of delirium until they came across a glowing aura of opulence and strode straight into a marble lobby the size of a warehouse.
With his adrenalin reserves depleted and his body dangerously close to shutting down after sweating out a few pounds in water weight, Slater had reached a temporary limit. Fighting to the pinnacle of one’s abilities required a journey into an untapped reserve of energy — and experience had taught him time and time again that rest was crucial.
So he booked the most expensive available suite that money could buy and ushered Shien into one of the elevators, desperate for a much-needed handful of hours to recuperate. She sported a wide-eyed expression the entire time — even though her old life probably consisted of non-stop visits to five-star hotels given the nature of her father’s business, Slater imagined it was a shock to return to such comforts after a couple of weeks in the hands of hostile parties.
‘We can clean ourselves up in the room,’ he said.
‘We’re not going back to the slums?’
‘No. Not unless we have to.’
‘What are we doing here?’
‘Resting.’
‘And then?’
‘Then I’ll go searching for anything that will lead me to Peter Forrest. Or the triad. Or anyone. And I’ll sort all this out.’
‘You don’t need to do this for me, Will.’
‘Yes I do.’
‘You should just leave me in this room and book it for a few days. That’ll give time for everything to cool down and then I can try and find my Daddy.’
Slater considered all the information he’d received so far regarding Shien’s father. ‘I wouldn’t count on that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘How long did you say you’ve been gone?’
‘About two weeks.’
‘There’s no way I’m leaving you until I find out you have someone to go back to.’
Once again, not the most poignant statement to make in such a tense situation.
Shien’s upper lip began to quiver — Slater noticed it out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed back unease and silently thanked the elevator for electing to arrive at their floor at that exact moment. It gave them something to do other than stand in awkward silence, contemplating just how drastically Shien’s life had been turned on its head.
Slater had been in hundreds of luxury hotels over his life — his previous occupation had provided an undisclosed salary that more than afforded the odd journey into the land of the mega-wealthy. By now everything had blurred together into an amalgamation of plush carpets, ornate decorations and the permeating scent of perfume and opulence. He’d seen it all before.
So had Shien, evidently.
They made their way down a luxurious corridor set at the optimal room temperature. Slater felt the cool touch of the artificially-adjusted air on his skin and breathed in a sigh of relief. It had taken them thirty minutes on foot to make the journey from the slums of Macau to the unrivalled luxury of the casinos and accompanying resorts — but this place was a world away from the crummy apartment complex they’d come from.
In terms of comfort, and safety.
Up here, no-one was waiting around the corner to take their heads off.
This establishment offered a little more security than the previous building.
Slater unlocked the door to the presidential suite at the end of the hallway with an electronic keycard and ushered Shien through. The ceiling towered far above their heads, and the suite consisted of a living area, kitchen, dining room, and entertainment room all rolled into one wholly impressive space. There was enough room to house six or seven people at minimum — the hotel had taken no shortcuts in an attempt to cut down on space. The air-conditioning had been preset to a certain temperature, draping the entire room in a cool aura.
The most stunning feature of the presidential suite was the array of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Macau’s skyline — deliberately facing the aesthetic glow of the towering skyscrapers and casinos instead of the slums and darkened neighbourhoods on the other side of the building. If Slater hadn’t been trawling through the humid, poverty-stricken boroughs less than an hour earlier, he might have forgotten such sights existed in this artificial pleasure centre.
‘You need a shower?’ Slater said.
Shien nodded. ‘This place is amazing. Can we stay here for a while?’
‘You can stay here for as long as you need. No-one knows you’re here.’
‘Will. You’re not leaving me here, are you?’
Slater stripped off his suit jacket to provide some semblance of reprieve from the now-sticky clothing and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring inquisitively out at the Macau skyline.
Mountain Lion Casino & Resorts dwarfed every building in sight, towering over the other complexes like the alpha male of an extravagant wonderland. Its upside-down U shape looked stunning from a distance away — Slater imagined that was the effect its owner had been going for when he commissioned its construction. The colour palette had been soaked in a soft neon green, covering the exterior of the complex in deliberate fashion. The lighting — spooling out of well-positioned floodlights and aiming at certain angles to highlight the complex’s most prominent features — accentuated the shadows even in the daytime, making Mountain Lion appear larger than it actually was.
Atop the rectangular slab connecting both skyscrapers rested the gargantuan “ML” logo spearing into the sky, a clear attempt to kick off a similar brand of structures across the world.
Even from half a mile away, Slater could recognise ambition when he saw it.
Peter Forrest had taken brazen steps to build this monolith.
He would take brazen steps to protect it from falling to pieces.
Slater realised he’d been silent for quite some time. He glanced down at himself, noting the blood and sweat and dirt caked thick across his dress shirt. He turned to Shien and noticed she was in a similar state of disrepair.
It had been an arduous night.
‘Go have a shower, Shien,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk about it when we’re both cleaned up.’
25
For the first time in over four days, Peter Forrest exited Mountain Lion Casino & Resorts.
It was close to midday, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept. His life had devolved into instinctual reactions, rolling with the punches, trying to keep his head above water for long enough to survive another day. There were so many facets of his business he needed to deal with that his brain had almost shut down on itself, giving up after working on overdrive for close to forty-eight hours.
As he slipped into a limousine that had been patiently anticipating his arrival for close to thirty minutes, he realised his heart had started to beat uncomfortably hard against his chest wall. He touched a hand to his left pectoral, concern spreading across his face as he scooted his rear across a soft row of leather seats.
Two of his hired guns followed him into the limousine.
‘You’re certain Tak and Antoine are nowhere to be found?’ Forrest snarled.
He’d brought the small, loyal Filipino man with him, along with a larger Asian guy who dwarfed both of them. The second man was by all definitions a stranger — close to six-foot-five and resolutely silent, crammed into his tailored suit in such a fashion that could only prove horrifically uncomfortable. He’d barely said a word to Forrest the entire time he’d served in the man’s employment. But he showed up when required, and he looked intimidating as all hell.
That was all that mattered.
Forrest would need him to hold his own in the coming hours.
He had a lot of talking to do, and a giant hole to dig himself out of.
The large Asian man shut the door and the limousine’s interior lapsed into silence. Forrest bowed his head, massaging his temples in a pathetic attempt to alleviate some of the stress, but it proved worthless. He felt the vehicle moving underneath him, which leant him a morsel of rel
ief — if they were on the move, then Forrest had the internal satisfaction that he was making an attempt to salvage the situation.
‘Sir, are you sure this is the best idea?’ the small Filipino man said. ‘The triad are dangerous people.’
‘I know they are,’ Forrest muttered through gritted teeth, his head still resting in his hands. ‘But I pay them good money to lend me workers, and as of this moment those three workers they gave me are the prime suspects for stealing all my money. You follow?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I follow, sir,’ the man said, careful not to antagonise Forrest. ‘But I don’t know how much you will achieve by going into their territory. You lose every advantage that way.’
‘That’s why I brought him,’ Forrest said, gesturing to the solemn Asian brute in the corner of the limousine.
As usual, the man said nothing.
‘I see that,’ the Filipino guy said, ‘but — no offence, sir — I don’t know how well one man can protect us.’
‘If they decide to kill me, then I’m a dead man. We’re all dead men. I just want to look somewhat intimidating so they elect not to. That’s all.’
‘You should have brought them to Mountain Lion. The heads of the triad. Then you could have presented the evidence on your terms.’
‘What evidence?’ Forrest said, laughing pathetically at his misfortune. ‘I’m grasping at straws. I have nothing. I just need powerful people to rely on. If I can convince them not to turn on me before Tak and Antoine and Jin feed them lies, then I can buy myself time. That’s all I’m trying to do right now. Buy myself time…’