Annihilate Him, Volume 3

by Christina Ross

  “Epifania said the same thing.”

  “And she was right. Jones never would have turned down that money without having a damned good reason. As for how this helps you now—it doesn’t because it’s purely speculative. But I guarantee you that I’m very close to being correct on this—if not right on target.”

  “So, you’ve heard the audio, seen the video. If you were a board member, how would you react to it?” I asked.

  “Anyone’s first inclination after hearing and seeing something like that will only be to believe it. That’s just human nature. We believe the worst in people first and the best in people last, so for a moment, the board will believe that you’ve just nailed Stephen Rowe to the wall. Your problem is that Rowe is going to challenge you, and that’s when everything will shift. If he makes a solid case for himself—and knowing that man, he already has one at the ready—then you could lose this.”

  Tank stepped back into the room and closed the door behind him.

  “Even if I threaten to release it to the media?” Alex said.

  “You’d be foolish if you did that. You’d look desperate and reckless. You wouldn’t be seen as the leader Wenn needs. Instead, you’d be seen as someone who wants his position back so badly, you’re willing to tarnish Wenn to do so. So, don’t do it. Your only chance of winning this is to bring your A-game into that room. Make Rowe squirm. Keep on point, but check your own frustration and anger, and remain calm. Let him be the one who becomes unhinged, because any kind of theatrics from that son of a bitch will only be viewed as coming from someone who has something to hide. Think about it, Alex. If he was innocent of everything—if he knew he’d done no wrong, that he had no mistress—then he’d just sit there like an ice chest, and be the coolest person in the room. He’d be unflappable. Your job is to turn him into a silo. Make him lose his temper while you keep yours on lockdown. And here’s what else you need to do,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  She told him, and when she did, my eyes widened at the thought.

  “If you do that,” Blackwell said. “If you threaten them with the very possibility of that happening, then everyone sitting around that table, including Rowe, will be on edge given the ramifications of what might come one day. At that point, the board might decide that the video is enough. They might decide that they can’t dismiss it, even if some have their doubts about it, because the downside is too real. If you can bring them to that point, they might just vote Rowe out so Wenn can distance itself from him forever before the stripper really hits the pole.”

  I went over and hugged her.

  “Why are you on top of me?” she said.

  “Because you’re fantastic.”

  “Why do I feel as if my personal space is being violated?”

  “It’s not being violated.”

  “Why do I feel as if you’re about to pull a Cosby on me and slip me a roofie?”

  “Oh please,” I said. “Thank you.”

  When she pulled away from me, she kissed me on each cheek. “Look, if I helped at all, it’s only because both of you are too close to this to see other options. If you’d had more time, you likely would have taken a similar direction.” She ran her fingers through her hair and looked up toward the ceiling. “Of course you didn’t, so thank God I’m here to pull you through the weeds.” She looked at my arm. “How are you healing?”

  “I don’t think I need the sling anymore. I’ve been able to shower and get dressed by myself for the past two days. And today was the best day. I feel much better.”

  “We’ll call your doctor later to see about removing it, but leave it on for the board meeting. You are going in as a sworn witness to what Alex saw and heard in Vegas. You were there in that room with him, and your testimony will be powerful for that reason. And also because people like you and trust you. Let that sling remind them of all that you two have been through. It sure as hell can’t hurt.”

  “Tank, did you catch anything on the video?” Alex asked.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t. I’m sorry, Alex.”

  “It’s nearly noon,” Blackwell said as she walked over to Alex and took him by the hands. “You should probably go. And good luck, my dear boy. I’ll be sitting in here rooting for you. Just remember everything I told you. You’re no novice at this. Make Rowe writhe in his seat, and you just might walk away with that seat for yourself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  WHEN WE ARRIVED AT the boardroom, which was located on the forty-seventh floor in a conference room just outside Rowe’s office, the entire board was already there—including Rowe, who was seated at the head of the table and looking amused at us as we entered the room.

  On the table in front of him was a phone, a notepad, and a glass of water. Behind him was a large-screen television tucked into a built-in alcove that also displayed a wealth of books, which I noticed weren’t the books Alex had had there when he was CEO. Just above them was a painting that hadn’t been there either, but the subject matter was revealing.

  The painting was of a large bull rising bloodied and triumphant after a bullfight that had ended in the bullfighter’s death. I didn’t know who had painted it, but the undercurrent of Rowe’s idea of what power meant to him was clear.

  Stephen Rowe saw himself as a bull.

  But for how much longer...?

  Another glance around the space confirmed that every piece of art on the walls had been changed. Gone were the classics Alex and his parents had collected over the years. Now, in addition to the bold and telling addition of the bull, several pieces of modern art decorated the walls, and the lot of it gave a chill to the room that, for me, reflected who Rowe was as a person. Abstract. Difficult to read. An enigma few would ever sort out. Despite how aggressive we’d been with each other since our first meeting at Henri’s party, and all that I knew about him now, he still remained somewhat of a mystery to me.

  Who was this man? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever know, beyond the fact that his soul was the personification of evil.

  “Alex,” Rowe said with a smile. “Glad you could make it, since you were the one who called this meeting in the first place.”

  “It’s noon, Stephen. I believe we’re on time.”

  “So, you are. And welcome. I understand that you called this meeting out of some sort of emergency? And that you have brought your wife behind closed doors for a reason? Would you please state the reason Jennifer is here before we begin?”

  “She is here to stand as a witness against you, Stephen.”

  When he said that, every head in that room turned toward Alex, before they looked hard at Rowe.

  “Against me? Your wife? Well, whatever she’s here to stand witness against, one can’t exactly consider her unbiased, can they? But I guess it is what it is.” He looked around at the rest of the board, who looked on edge to me. “For the record, can we all please note the reason for Jennifer’s presence? Perfect. Alex, there are plenty of seats available at the table for both you and Jennifer. Why don’t you have a seat and join us? We’d love to hear what all of this hubbub is about, especially since it has caused so many of our board members a considerable inconvenience to be called here on such short notice. As you can imagine, many important schedules, meetings, and conferences had to be cancelled due to your demand that the entire board meet here at noon to accommodate you. As you can imagine, we’re all curious as to why that is, and how it involves me. So—please inform us.”

  But Alex didn’t take a seat, and neither did I. Instead, we stood at the front of the table, a decision that went unnoticed by no one. I looked around at the group and saw Jonathan Rubinstein and Tom Brown to the left of us, and Diana Crane and Mike Fine seated to our right. All of them were looking at us with a sense of trepidation. What had we brought into this room with us? What was about to go down?

  “We’d prefer to stand, Stephen.”

  “As you wish,” he countered. “So, your news?”

  “Through a
lengthy investigation carried out by me, my wife, and my security chief, Mitch McCollister, whom many of you know as Tank, it has become clear to us that you are on the cusp of doing Wenn great harm.”

  When Alex said that, Rowe steepled his fingers beneath his chin and leaned forward with raised eyebrows. “Is that so? And how would that be, Alex? I think all of us would like to know.”

  “For the past two years, you have been having an affair with a woman by the name of Janice Jones, who is a former stripper at a high-end gentleman’s club here in the city, where you met her.”

  “A stripper?” Rowe said.

  “That’s exactly what I thought when I heard the news, Stephen. Kind of beneath you—or maybe not. Anyway, two days ago, Jennifer, Tank, and I flew to Las Vegas, where you own a condominium as Trump’s Turnberry Towers. It’s there that you’ve stashed Janice ever since you learned that we were indeed alive, and coming back to New York. It took us time to find her, but we did. I’m here to offer proof of your affair, and explain how it would damage Wenn’s stock and reputation going forward if the truth came out that the CEO and chairman of the board of Wenn Enterprises has been having a two-year relationship with a former exotic dancer.”

  When Alex said that, the board shifted uncomfortably in their seats—but Rowe didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked bewildered. He moved to speak, but then he just rolled his eyes, which several other board members noted with interest. Rowe wasn’t taking the bait, which would do Alex no good in this room if he didn’t come through with something that would rattle Rowe—and soon.

  “Alex, if you have anything to substantiate this, please come forward with it now. Enlighten all of us of my infidelities. Otherwise, you’re just making an embarrassment of yourself and exposing just how much you want me ousted so you can return as CEO and chairman of the board. So, come on. Get on with it. We’re busy and you’re wasting our time.”

  “Let’s start with the facts,” Alex said. “Do you own a condominium at Trump’s Turnberry Towers?”

  “I do. In fact, I have properties all over the world. Meredith and I bought that property as an investment.”

  “Jennifer, Tank, and I visited Janice Jones at your property two days ago. We took a private jet not associated with Wenn Air so you wouldn’t be able to trace us since you’ve known for weeks that we’ve been investigating you. All of our travel is documented, as is our conversation with Jones herself.”

  At that, Rowe screwed up his face. “Who is this Jones person, Alex? I don’t know the name.”

  “Of course you do, but then you’re just deflecting in an effort to buy time. So why don’t I just come forward with the facts?”

  “And what are they, Alex?”

  “When Janice Jones agreed to meet with us, Tank suggested that before Jennifer and I walk into your condominium, where you’d hidden Jones since the moment we returned to New York, that I place my iPhone in the pocket of my khakis and use it to record our conversation. I have audio of the first part of our talk, and video of the second part from when I removed my phone and captured Janice Jones in the flesh.”

  “So you hired an actress?” Rowe asked. “Is that how desperate you are?”

  “Janice Jones is no actress,” Alex said. “She’s your mistress. She’s your past, she’s your present, and she’s about to destroy your future.”

  “Well, that’s dramatic,” Rowe said with an easy smile. “So, please—let’s hear what this actress of yours had to say, Alex.”

  He was cooler than I’d expected him to be. If he kept this up, Alex could be in serious trouble—and we both knew it.

  I watched Alex remove his iPhone from his pants pocket, and hold it up for all to see. “I’ll play the audio first, and then I’ll show all of you the video on the television behind Stephen. Afterward, you can decide for yourselves what kind of damage this woman would do to Wenn if she came forward with the truth of her affair with Stephen.”

  When he said that, it was Blackwell talking. That was the piece of the equation that she’d given us in her office, the one thing that might unnerve the board most if there was any question in anyone’s mind that this was real, and that it could indeed do Wenn harm if it was revealed to the public. With a flick of his hand, Alex started the audio, and Janice Jones’ voice rang out into the conference room.

  “Well,” Janice said. “Here you are—in my go-away home. Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” came my own voice from the recording.

  “Personally, I can’t stand it, but then you know that from Epifania. I’d rather be back in New York with the man I love, but you two managed to chase him away from me when he became CEO and chairman of the board of Wenn Enterprises, and Alex decided he didn’t like it.” A darkness entered her voice. “So, here is how this is going to go. I’ve asked Stephen to call me at six. In fact, I ordered him to. I told him that if he didn’t, I’d be calling Meredith, which put him in a terrible mood—but who cares? I certainly don’t. The way I see your little visit going is like this—you two motherfuckers have one hour to tell me why you came here, why you want to destroy my chances of being with the love of my life, and why in hell I should listen to whatever it is you have up your sleeves. If you fail to convince me on any level that I should go forward with your plans, I will tell Stephen myself that you were in his house and the reasons why you came. I may be wrong, but I believe that you came here for blackmail.”

  “And I believe that you’re living in Stephen and Meredith Rowe’s house,” Alex said. “Not just Stephen’s. Let’s just be correct about that.”

  “For the time being, I suppose that’s true. But not when he divorces her, which he will. He told me that he will. And I believe him and will protect him because I know what I see in his eyes when he looks at me.”

  “Lust?” Alex said. “Or love?”

  “You know...we can end this right now if you’d like. I have no time for vague shades of hostility, even from the likes of the great Alexander Wenn.”

  “And I don’t have any time for bullshit, Janice. So, here’s what else we can do. We can sit down on Stephen and Meredith Rowe’s lovely sofas and talk about how you can walk away with twenty million dollars cash in your pocket. That is, of course, if you give us the information we need to crush the man who doesn’t love you, who will never love you, and who also will never marry you. Because if he did love you? If he loved you the way that I love my wife? Oh, he would have dumped Meredith Rowe, just as he promised you he was going to do, say, about a year ago. Because that’s what love is, Janice. It’s sacrificing everything you have to be with the one you love most. But you already know that. You’ve already thought long and hard about that. So, you know, all of this really comes down to you. Whether we talk is your choice. Because in the end, I’ve already won.”

  At that moment, Alex stopped the recording and looked at the board, all of whom had turned to Rowe in ways that suggested that they were starting to buy into this, which would have been a relief to me had Rowe himself not appeared so unfazed, likely because he’d already spoken to Jones about this and knew what was coming and what she’d said. Because of that, he was prepared to react just as he was now—with no reaction.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Rowe asked. “An actress pretending to be my mistress? You’ll need to provide a lot more than that, Alex. So, please, the burden of proof rests on you. Provide it. Otherwise, you’re wasting our time.”

  “Turn on the television behind you,” Alex said to him. “It’s Bluetooth ready and it’s already set up to mirror my phone. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll stream the video portion of our conversation for all of you. In it, you’ll see the condominium Stephen and Meredith own, and Stephen can see his mistress again. The rest of you will be able to decide for yourselves if this woman is an actress or not. Because if she is, she’s one hell of one. And by the way, you’ll see Jennifer in the video, but you won’t see Tank. He was standing just outside your condo, Stephen, which I believe is marked 4
5D?”

  “In fact, it is.”

  “Tank will testify to that.”

  “And he no longer works for Wenn, Alex. He works personally for you. So once again, you’ve got a credibility issue.” He waved a hand dismissively in front of his face. “But that’s your problem—and so is this. There’s something else that you need to prove, Alex.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That you were standing in my condominium. After all, I assume you realize that you can buy one of Trump’s condos fully furnished, which is what Meredith and I did. And as many others did before us and after us. Each one of the units comes with the same design, more or less, and I’m sure there are fully-furnished condos that look just like mine that are ready to show to prospective buyers. Perhaps you took your actress friend to one of them, and asked the Realtor for a moment to look around the place alone so you could shoot your little movie. So, once again, I hope you have a way of proving to all of us that the condo we’re about to see is indeed mine.”

  “Would you please turn on the TV?” Alex asked again. “Then you’ll need to move to the side, Stephen. Otherwise, you’ll block the screen.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to do that,” he said in a way that was so relaxed, so fully controlled, I had to wonder if Alex would ever get beneath his skin. Rowe reached for the remote in front of him, turned on the television, and then rolled his chair aside.

  “Can everyone see now?” he asked. “Yes? Good. Because God knows, I’d hate for anyone to miss this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  WHEN ALEX CONNECTED his phone to the television, everything on his iPhone’s screen was mirrored on the television’s seventy-inch screen. He chose the video he’d shot of Janice and pressed ‘play’ while holding his phone horizontally at the television so that everyone could view the video in widescreen.