Two women dressed in casual servant attire served mimosas and light appetizers. It wasn’t yet noon, but everyone, with the exception of Daniel accepted the alcoholic beverages. There was something about being in the middle of a lion’s den that caused some uneasiness, although they were also struck by the magnificence of their surroundings. Even Maya looked a bit awestruck. Cal only wished that they could’ve smuggled in a few weapons, just in case. They didn’t know if Baxter was involved personally but the Marine in Cal never liked to walk into a situation unprepared. At the moment he felt a bit naked without his trusty sidearm. He glanced at Daniel to see if he felt the same but the sniper only nodded and gave him a thin smile as if to say, “I’m ready.”
That was Daniel, always ready. Cal breathed a little easier knowing that. He’d often thought of Daniel as his lucky rabbit’s foot, but then he realized that Daniel had been there when Travis died. Maybe not so lucky.
Cal’s thoughts were interrupted when the large double doors at the far end of the room opened, and a tall man wearing a loose-fitting button down-shirt and a pair of swim trunks walked in.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Baxter said, extending his hand to Layton, his official guest.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Baxter. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Not a problem at all, and please, call me Chance.”
There was a knowing look exchanged as if each had just passed muster.
“Chance, this is my trusty staff all here to ensure I don’t make a stupid decision and buy something I can’t afford.”
They all chuckled dutifully including Baxter, who said, “If your reputation has any bearing on a future purchase, I am sure it is I who should be concerned.”
Jonas laughed at that and the two men shuffled into a quiet corner to discuss whatever it was that billionaires discussed.
“What do you think?” Cal asked Daniel.
“He seems okay, for now.”
“Yeah, I wonder if we’ll have a chance to look around.”
Daniel shrugged as he popped another conch fritter in his mouth.
+++
Hannah Krygier stretched her tired muscles. Normally, she would’ve gone to the gym or taken a jog to shake off the cobwebs from the Transatlantic flight but her traveling companion was not letting her out of his sight. They’d even shared a bedroom in the penthouse suite in Freeport.
Luckily, Perlstein hadn’t made a pass at her again and he had contented himself with the liquor on the side table. He’d drunk himself into a stupor the previous night but if Hannah had any compulsion to take advantage of the situation by stabbing him in the throat like she wanted, she only had to glance at the two security personnel sitting in the corner to squash that delicious thought.
It was morning now and even though the clock said she’d slept for six hours, it felt more like six minutes. Her mind still whirled as it had since they’d left Israel. She didn’t even know where they were headed until they touched down and she’d read the sign on the side of the airport.
Perlstein was once again hitting the booze and he held his second screwdriver of the morning as he chatted away on his phone. He was just out of earshot but Hannah kept glancing at him anyway. She needed a leg up, a stroke of luck or a thorn in Perlstein’s side.
She huffed in frustration and went back to her reading. There were numerous American magazines stacked neatly on the coffee table, and she’d pretended to be reading them since waking. It was the only thing she could do since the television had been commandeered by the security guards. So, she watched cautiously out of the corner of her eye as she tried to listen in on Perlstein’s conversation.
Hannah didn’t catch much but she had heard something about a helicopter ride in an hour. She wondered where they were going and whether she’d ever see Israel again.
+++
Baxter said goodbye to his guest and returned to his office. It had been an interesting and spirited conversation with the man the rich knew as “The Fortuneteller.” Baxter had never met Jonas Layton before and, after reading the man’s dossier, he had expected a bookish nerd who had a laptop strapped to his hip. He’d been pleasantly surprised at finding the exact opposite.
Layton was funny and smart, but he also seemed more grounded than the many other wealthy acquaintances Baxter had met over the years. Most were either fake in their kindness or mute to the point of being rude.
But the timing was strange. Then again, what was timing to a man who was worth billions? Men of their ilk could do pretty much anything they wanted, anytime they wanted. Take the Baxter home on Great Sale Cay, for example. The deserted isle had gone undeveloped since the Earth had spewed forth its foundation a millennium before. Everyone had said he was crazy when he’d snatched it up for a steal. They said he couldn’t build on it due to the insane costs involved.
But Baxter had plans for the island. He wanted it to not only be his home away from home, but also his fortress, his secret lair where no unbidden guests could enter. He had plans to build long piers on either end of the island and a port that could accommodate his largest creations. At one time, he’d envisioned having a shipwright station on the island but reconsidered. Too many visitors. Too many workers.
No, he wanted and needed his privacy. After all, if he was going to see his home country resume its rightful place in the world pecking order, he had to have an outpost halfway around the world from which he could command his navy.
He smiled as he walked, the familiar allure of glory and national pride filling him with warmth and gratitude for what his ancestors had done. They were proud stewards of their great nation, and it had all come down to him to carry on their aspirations. He would raise the banner once again.
But first there was work to do. He had more guests arriving within the hour. Better to get them on solid land before the storm hit. Baxter smirked at the irony. The storm before the storm. Was it truly fate?
If only he’d known the fate of his faithful Suprema crew off the coast of Mexico, his smile might not have been so wide.
Chapter 24
Great Sale Cay
The Bahamas
August 29th, 12:44pm
It took every ounce of self control the billionaire had not to scream. The helicopter with Efraim Perlstein had just arrived. The second group of guests were getting settled when George had delivered the sealed envelope the helicopter pilot had brought with him. It was an antiquated and slow way of receiving information, but who knew what the world’s intelligence agencies could see or hear?
Actually, Baxter knew quite well what capabilities the intelligence agencies possessed. He received, on an annual basis, a rundown from his friends at MI6. He was quite fortunate to have such friends. It hadn’t hurt in the financial department either. A subtle tip dropped here and there had netted him many millions over the years. If only the normal citizenry knew what intelligence arms of major powers were truly capable of.
But that wasn’t what had Baxter vexed at that very moment. He was reading the concise report from his radio station in Freeport.
Suprema sunk. Unknown explosion last night. More soon.
Suprema. That was Weir’s yacht. Weir, the spy. His plant at MI6 had confirmed Weir and the chief steward were spying on him. On him! As if anyone could stop him.
He gritted his teeth and tried to think of some order to send back with the pilot. They’d decentralized some of the operation, but the final order always was his, and his alone. Not one deviation could happen without his approval. He was the architect.
His foot tapped as he tried to think of some way to salvage what that bastard Weir had somehow managed to accomplish. He didn’t have confirmation, yet he knew in his soul that’s what had happened.
How many more saboteurs were out there? His man at MI6 had confirmed that Weir and his chief steward were the last two. Could there be more he didn’t know about? That thought prickled his brain as he urged his mind to refocus. It
was what he got paid for, to find the solution despite the problems.
Finally, the words came to him. He wrote:
Message all vessels. You will take safe anchor and wait until further word.
He resealed the envelope and pressed a buzzer on his desk that rang for George. His attendant appeared a moment later and took the envelope from Baxter.
“When would you like to see your new guests, Mr. Baxter?”
Baxter almost screamed at the man. He wanted to. He really did. But that wasn’t his way. George would know something was amiss, and the last thing he needed was for the household staff gossiping about their master’s explosive mood.
He took a deep breath and said, “Tell them I’ll be with them in fifteen minutes.”
George did his usual half bow and said, “Very good, sir.”
“Oh, and George, make sure our various groups do not intermingle. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Baxter. Your new guests are in the far wing in the lowest level.”
“Good. Thank you, George.”
Another half bow and George was gone.
Baxter exhaled and thanked his foresight and vision to create a headquarters that not only spanned close to 40,000 square feet above ground, but also had underground levels that almost rivaled those above. The last thing he needed was for his potential customers to run into Perlstein and the ever-engaging Hannah Krygier.
Baxter had never met the woman but he’d heard plenty about her from Perlstein. The man could be a real pervert and had told Baxter, who assumed he was now Chance's close friend, what a catch Krygier might be. The billionaire hadn’t known whether the Israeli was bragging or suggesting he make a pass. The way Perlstein described her character fascinated Baxter, who lived to meet outliers since he lived hidden among the boring masses.
He knew he was a snob in his own way and it was one of the reasons he had invited a man like Jonas Layton into his house. Interesting always beat mundane. Layton was a legend even though he wasn't yet forty years of age.
If what Perlstein had said in his emails was true, Krygier might be just as interesting, if not more. She didn’t have billions, and she wasn’t known outside the closest circles in Israel, but she was the Israeli prime minister’s sister, and she was the only woman the openly sexist Perlstein had trusted with their plot.
So, while part of his psyche raged over the loss of Suprema, the rest of him was already moving on. It was what you had to do to succeed. It was why most people would never attain the level of success that Baxter and his ancestors had. You had to wear blinders, ignore the pot shots, and just keep moving forward.
Baxter smiled as he readied himself for another performance.
+++
Hannah stood when the door opened. Perlstein hadn’t even knocked before entering and she was about to throw him a scowl when the stranger entered.
“Ms. Krygier, I’m sorry to barge in. You know how impulsive our friend Efraim can be.”
The man gave her a wink and grin. She couldn’t help but return his smile.
“My name is Baxter, Ms. Krygier. Chance Baxter, at your service.”
Hannah shook the man’s hand. It was strong and warm. Perlstein hadn’t told her who their host was, but now that she saw him, it was obvious he was the man of the house.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Baxter.”
Baxter didn’t do anything as forward as kissing her hand or, God forbid, give her an embrace with a kiss on each cheek, but he did squeeze her hand and give a glance toward the back of Efraim Perlstein, who was once again availing himself of the open bar.
Hannah didn’t know what to think of the look. Was this Baxter teasing her, or was he someone who could become an ally? He didn’t look gay, yet he didn’t look at her like she was some sort of prize or worse a piece of meat. She’d found that many successful men did. Baxter did not and she appreciated that. Maybe it was because of what she’d been through in the preceding days, or maybe it was because her senses were dulled from the stress and lack of sleep, but she was drawn to…to something. What was it? Suddenly it hit her, what she saw in the man’s eyes and sensed in his every word, something she hadn’t thought possible. For the first time in days she felt hope.
“Ms. Krygier, I was hoping to steal Efraim for a few minutes. Would that be alright?” Baxter asked.
“Only if you promise to steal him forever,” she answered with a wink.
Baxter laughed deeply. Perlstein turned and stared at her with his bored displeasure.
“I’m sorry, Efraim,” Hannah offered to her fellow countryman. Then she turned back to Baxter. “Of course, you may take him. Where would you like me to go?”
“George is just outside the door. He will escort you to my office.”
Hannah smiled and walked to the door. George was waiting and she followed him deeper into Baxter’s complex.
+++
“You were right about how beautiful she is,” Baxter mused, grabbing himself a glass of orange juice from the bar. “Why did you bring her?”
“I don’t trust her,” Perlstein growled. He punctuated the comment by guzzling the rest of the whiskey in his glass.
“Are you saying you made a mistake bringing her in?”
“I did not say that.”
“And did you not tell me that having her in on our little operation would only benefit us?” There was an edge to Baxter’s tone now and Perlstein finally picked up on it like a child who’d just realized he’d talked back to his father.
“She is my responsibility.”
“Yes.”
“And I will take care of her.”
“Please, Efraim, do tell me what you intend to do. This is my house after all and anything that happens under my roof will eventually come to my attention.”
Baxter looked up at the air vent and made sure Perlstein knew what he was looking at. There were no cameras but the cocky Jew didn’t need to know that.
“I get your point. I apologize,” Perlstein said curtly.
Baxter smiled as if the disagreement had never happened.
“Now, I have some rather disturbing news,” Baxter said, although he still wore a smile.
“What is it?”
“We’ve lost one of our yachts.”
“Which one?”
“Suprema.”
Perlstein inhaled. “How did it happen?”
“We don’t know yet. It could have been an accident, or there may have been a malfunction with the cargo.
It was an obvious jab at Dr. Nahas and, by extension, Perlstein himself. The Israeli’s chest puffed out just perceptibly.
“You are the one who has Nahas as a guest, not I. Was it not one of your vessels piloted by your crew that has now, how did you put it?”
“It blew up,” Baxter answered, sipping his juice.
“It blew up?”
Baxter nodded.
There was a tense thirty seconds where neither man said a word. They were the co-architects of the bold plot and the only ones who knew their halves of the plan. Baxter wasn’t going to tell Perlstein that he’d known about Captain Weir and his accomplice, and that maybe they had something to do with the explosion. Better to leave that part out because Perlstein had a nasty way of holding grudges, as well as an annoying way of bringing up past mistakes at the most inopportune times.
The man was used to getting his way in Israel, but that was where his reach stopped. He needed Chance Baxter and the vast network that he and his corporation commanded. No, Baxter would not admit anything to Perlstein. Better to let him come up with his own conclusions.
“Have you talked to Nahas?” Perlstein asked.
“I have not.”
“Would you like me to speak with him?”
“That would not be wise.”
Perlstein bristled again. “I think you forget that it was I who brought Dr. Nahas to you. Without him and his research…”
“Neither of us would be here,” Baxter finished. “You ke
ep reminding me of this fact. But let me remind you that without my yachts, without their willing crews that I spent years vetting, you would be in the same place you were when you came to me, stuck.”
Perlstein huffed in frustration.
Before he could speak, Baxter said, his tone soothing now, “This is a minor setback, Efraim. I only wished to bring it to your attention so that you might give me your insight into how I should proceed.”
It was an olive branch, one Perlstein wasted no time in snatching.
“Have you alerted the rest of the captains?”
“It is being done as we speak.”
Perlstein nodded. “Then maybe it is time for you to speak with our friend Dr. Nahas. Perhaps he has some insight into what has transpired.”
“And you would be content to listen to the conversation but not actively participate?”
Another olive branch. Baxter had a drawer full.
“Yes, I would be fine with that.”
“Good, now why don’t we join Ms. Krygier? I’ve been saving a very expensive bottle of aged whiskey just for you. After that we can hear what Dr. Nahas has to say.”
“Agreed.”
Baxter smiled and patted his co-conspirator on the shoulder.
“Oh, and one more thing, Efraim. Could you make a discreet inquiry with your intelligence contacts?”
“For what purpose?”
“Call me paranoid, but I still want to make sure the Americans have not become privy to our tangled web.”
“I checked just before leaving, but yes, I can check again.”
“Good. It would make me feel so happy if we could amaze President Zimmer with a splendid surprise gift. Don’t you agree?”
The two man shared a smile and left the room. For better or worse, they were now connected. Baxter just hoped that Perlstein and the Israelis would hold up their end of the bargain. The world would soon find out what they had concocted, and Baxter did not want to be the only one caught in the crosshairs.
The Zimmer Doctrine (Corps Justice Book 11) Page 12