Hostile Takeover

by David Bruns

  His head snapped up again and Cora saw the light of conviction burning brightly. He leaped to his feet.

  “I will change—I pledge this to you. We will change.” He smacked a closed fist into an open palm. “What we need is fresh leadership, fresh ideas. Today I am announcing that the Council of Corporations will include two new members.” His hand swept down to point at her. “Corazon Santos will represent the New Earth Order on the council and General William Graves will represent the United Nations of Earth.”

  The camera drones swept in to catch her reaction. Anthony dropped off the stage in front of her and hugged her like they were best friends. The rest of the group, pinned under the stares of the live-action cameras, made their show of congratulations, but their eyes were steely with anger. All of them.

  Cora smiled through it, but her free hand sought Graves’s fingers. When she squeezed his hand, he replied in kind.

  She looked out at the blue of a cloudless sky.

  If it is your will, Cassandra. I am yours to command.

  Chapter 24

  Adriana Rabh • New York City

  Adriana closed her eyes and brought the tips of her index finger and thumb together, seeking the first sensation of touch in the sensitive skin and trying to hold that position. Concentrating, stilling the chatter of her mind with the focus exercise.

  But thoughts intruded.

  Adriana snapped her eyes open. Normally, the stylistic decor of her New York sitting room brought her some level of peace, but not today. All she kept thinking about was Anthony’s pathetic live broadcast … on his knees, begging forgiveness like some weeping martyr from history.

  All he needed was a few arrows sticking out of his chest, she thought savagely.

  Was it possible that Anthony Taulke, renowned for his unflappability under pressure, able to navigate any business deal with the nonchalance of the truly blessed, had lost his nerve?

  Her mind rejected the idea. He was playing the long game, that was the only explanation, but what was it?

  Her virtual pulsed her with a notice of her next visitor. Of all the members of the council, Viktor Erkennen was the one most likely to hold the answers she sought.

  The Russian moved slowly in full-gee, each step a shamble, making him seem more like a bear than normal. She met him at the door, kissed him on both cheeks, and tucked his arm in hers as they made their way to the sofa.

  Viktor collapsed into the cushions and let his head loll backwards. He groaned. “I cannot do this anymore, Adriana,” he said.

  He really was suffering. The whites of his eyes had gone pink with ruptured blood vessels and the skin of his fleshy face looked drawn. The fact that he had made the trip to the surface just to speak with her spoke volumes.

  “I appreciate you coming, Viktor,” she said, patting his knee. “I know this must be hard for you.”

  He raised his head, blinking like an owl. “This topic … is too sensitive for communications channels.”

  “Yes.” She would let him broach Anthony’s behavior and what it meant to the council. To all their plans. She rose to her feet. “Drink?”

  Viktor gave a ponderous nod. She let the silence fill the room as she fixed the drinks. Adriana could have called for a butler, but she fixed them herself. Vodka martinis, heavy on the vodka, especially for him, poured into a massive crystal glass.

  “Olives?” she asked finally.

  Viktor shook his head and did not look up as she sat down next to him and handed him his glass. “Na zdrowie,” she said, touching the rim of her glass to his.

  He said nothing, but hoisted the glass and drained a quarter of the contents in one sip. His eyes widened in appreciation at her generous hand.

  “I do not know what has happened to Anthony,” he said.

  “Meaning?” she said.

  His eyes met hers. “Are we being recorded, Adriana?”

  “No,” she lied. She recorded everything, of course, but this conversation had no significance—yet.

  Viktor shrugged. “Makes no difference either way. I have nothing to tell you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  The Russian took another gulp of his martini. “Same reason as you. Information. I do not know Anthony’s plan, but I can count votes. When he adds the general and the Neo woman to the council—”

  “He can’t be allowed to do that!” Adriana interrupted.

  “For now, he can. Anthony made a public appeal; if the council refuses to seat them, think of the public backlash. LUNa City is already threatening to shut off He-3 production, we still need food from Earth … what do you propose we do?”

  Adriana took a moment to try her calming technique, but her hands were shaking too much to permit the tips of her fingers to touch. It was more like Morse code.

  “So we allow them to be seated, then what?” she said.

  “Anthony will have a lock on the council. Graves, the Neo woman, Xi, and himself. Our votes don’t matter.”

  “Why are you so sure Xi Qinlao will vote with Anthony?”

  Viktor set his empty glass down with a thump on the coffee table. “That I can answer. For the last six months, I’ve been working on a new weather nanite system for Anthony. Qinlao Manufacturing is producing it for us. When these satellites are in place, Elise Kisaan’s cryptokey will be useless. Anthony will remove Elise from the council. We will be outnumbered four to three.”

  “Can you stop it?” Adriana asked.

  Viktor blew out a long breath. “The summit is in two days. That’s when Anthony will make his move. Deploy the satellite network, seat the new members. The first vote will remove Elise.” He looked at her with a mournful gaze. “When that happens, he has a free pass to do whatever he wants.”

  “Then we can’t let that happen.”

  Viktor heaved his bulky body to his feet and swayed a moment as he found his balance. “It’s out of my hands. The satellites are being deployed even as we speak. The weather network will be complete in the next forty-eight hours and nothing can stop the summit meeting now.”

  He plodded to the door without waiting for her to get up and left. Adriana kept her seat, still holding her nearly untouched drink. With her free hand, she touched the tip of her forefinger to the tip of her thumb.

  No shaking, calm breath, clear head.

  The door reopened, but she kept her attention fixed on a spot on the far wall. From behind her came the sounds of someone fixing a drink, then crossing the room. Tony Taulke flopped into the sofa cushions next to her.

  “Viktor is always such a downer, isn’t he?” Tony said.

  Adriana broke her concentration and took a sip of her martini. The drink had warmed to room temperature during her conversation with Viktor. She set it on the table with barely a ripple on the surface of the liquid.

  “We need to act,” she said.

  “It’s under control.” Tony sucked at his drink.

  Adriana’s temper flared. “The last time you controlled something, I took the blame for the LUNa City uprising. We need to change the narrative, distract people from this summit business. That gives us breathing room to makes things happen.”

  Another insolent slurp from Tony. “I told you, it’s being handled. That’s all you need to know.”

  Tony’s reluctance to share his plans with her both infuriated her and concerned her at the same time. Most of all, she didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust any of them, really. Except Anthony. She had trusted Anthony—the old Anthony, not the new one. Look where that had gotten her.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I trust you.”

  Tony smirked. “No, you don’t, but that’s all right.” He stood. “Good work with Viktor. I figured Pop was trying to pull a fast one with the weather network, but it’s good to have it confirmed.” He leaned over and kissed Adriana on the cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She did not walk him to the door. Instead, Adriana returned to her thoughts.

  Two days. In two days, Anthony would
make his move. Take control of the weather. Take control of the council. Sideline her, possibly for good. After all, did he really need her if he had that much power?

  Teller, she decided. He would use Teller instead of her, thinking that Teller would have connections and influence equal to hers. The very idea made her quake with suppressed rage.

  Tony might have it handled in his own mind, but where did she fall in his pecking order? Certainly not above Elise Kisaan, that was for sure.

  No, she couldn’t rely on a self-absorbed prick like Tony Taulke to keep her best interests at heart. She needed to take matters into her own hands. The satellite network, the new council members, these were all actions designed to keep her unbalanced.

  Well, two could play that game. It was time for Adriana to spring her own set of surprises. If Tony was unwilling to stir things up, then she would … but how?

  Adriana walked to the window and stared down at the city. Her eye was drawn to the faraway park where a group of children were playing a game in the open field. Bright-colored jerseys clustered around a ball, then dispersed like a group of flies. Parents watched from the sidelines.

  The idea formed in her head slowly. She turned it over and over, looking for flaws. There were many, but in every flaw was a latent opportunity for someone who was willing to seize the initiative.

  She pulsed Eugene Fischer, the fixer Tony had lent to her. He would do nicely. He might inform on her to Tony, but that would only add to the confusion. More opportunity for her.

  Her instructions to young Fischer were short, concise, and pointed, leaving lots of room for freelancing. She was interested in the results, not the methods. If the power center of the council was to be a math problem, then she could change the calculus better than any of them.

  His eyes studied her face as she spoke. Intelligent eyes, she decided, capable eyes. As usual, he had a book tucked under his arm. The author’s name peeked out. Kafka.

  “Any questions?” she asked Fischer.

  He shook his head.

  When the hit man left, Adriana returned to her sofa and took a sip of her warm martini. She lifted the glass to an imaginary companion in mock congratulations.

  The council was about to have a baby.

  Chapter 25

  William Graves • Darwin, Australia

  The idea of taking the space elevator up to Olympus Station seemed inefficient to Graves. After all, a military transport would get them there in a fraction of the time.

  But Anthony Taulke had insisted Graves and Cora ride in his private elevator car as his personal guests. It wasn’t until they arrived in Darwin, Australia, to board the elevator that Graves realized the point of Anthony’s insistence: it wasn’t about the destination, it was about the journey.

  A crowd filled the airfield when they disembarked the transport in sun-drenched Darwin. Anthony had literally rolled out the red carpet for their arrival, and at the end of the carpet, Graves spied a tall woman with a towering pile of bright pink curls. Nancy Watson was back from more exclusive interview footage. Banks of camera drones made a wall of eyes behind Nancy.

  Anthony strode ahead, his ego drawing him to a camera like a moth to a flame. By the time Graves and Cora caught up to him, he was already chatting with Nancy like old friends.

  “I meant what I said in New York. I’m here to atone for my sins of hubris. I will use my resources to place real people”—he drew Graves and Cora forward—“on the council and develop real solutions to save this planet.” He turned to Cora as if she was supposed to pick up where he left off.

  From his position on Anthony’s other side, Graves could see the impromptu news conference was being broadcast onto large, virtual screens to the crowds on the airfield. As Cora’s face showed up on the screens, a chant went up: “Cor-a-zon, Cor-a-zon.”

  Cora cocked her head like she didn’t quite understand what she was hearing.

  “They’re chanting your name,” Anthony said to her with a grin. “What do you think of that?”

  Cora blushed and looked away. Her eyes sought Graves, who shrugged at her. He was making this up as he went along, just like her.

  “I am here to serve the Child, nothing more.” Cora’s voice was soft, but strong. Amplified out to where the screens were, it created a ripple of excitement in the gathered people. She had regained her composure but was still obviously out of her element.

  “And what about you, General?” Anthony asked. He seemed to enjoy putting them on the spot by treating their conversation in front of millions of people like it was some kind of off-the-cuff conversation. The Anthony Taulke Graves thought he knew was a calculating man whose every public utterance was scripted. This Anthony’s dark eyes flashed with good nature as if he’d been freed of all the responsibilities of his former life.

  Graves did his best to keep his expression neutral. He’d been in news conferences before, he knew what a stray comment could do to a mission. “I’m here to serve the greater good. I still work for the United Nations and I’m happy to accept all the help the council can provide.”

  Anthony cocked his head as if to say, That’s the best you’ve got, Graves?

  Turning back to Nancy, he shrugged and pulled a face. “Well, there you have it, Nancy. Your new representatives on the Council of Corporations. Ms. Santos and the general are here to keep us honest and I’m glad to have them.”

  “What about President Teller, Anthony?” Nancy said. “Doesn’t he deserve a seat on the council?”

  “Why, Nancy, I’m surprised at you.” Anthony affected an expression of mock horror, drawing a smile from Watson. Graves noticed how everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This was fun for them. “You blast the United States nightly on your broadcast, but you seem to have a soft spot for the American president.” His expression hardened into sternness. Even the drones seemed to take notice.

  “The political apparatus has failed this planet. It is time for a new form of governance. One that can be nimble and effective. Ms. Santos represents a religion that covers nearly a third of the world’s population. William Graves stopped being a soldier a long time ago—he’s been a humanitarian, fighting for the betterment of his fellow humans for as long as I’ve known him. We have big problems to solve and no time left to do it.” He released a blinding smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have an elevator car to catch.”

  “Why Olympus Station, Anthony?” Nancy pressed. “Why not at the UN or someplace planetside?”

  Graves could tell the implied barb stung Anthony. He swung back toward the news gathering.

  “A few days ago, I was nearly assassinated. Someone could be targeting me right now, in fact.” Graves saw the news people exchange uneasy glances. Anthony laughed. “No need to worry. I’ve had this area secured. But we need to take my personal safety and the safety of the council members out of the equation. Olympus Station is protected by my personal security forces. No one is getting in”—he threw a wink at Graves and Cora—“or out without my say-so.”

  The rest of Anthony’s words about big decisions and world-changing ideals faded away. Graves and Cora were about to be locked in a space station with some of the most powerful people in the world. A place that he was ill-equipped to handle, if he was being honest with himself. His fingers found the Saint Christopher medal around his neck. Anthony’s humorous remark about getting out took on a whole new significance. He tuned back in to the rest of his speech:

  “I will be surrounded by people I can trust and who trust me. You do trust me, right, General?” Anthony said. He said it with a smile playing to the crowd, but Graves felt the prompt all the same.

  “Of course, Mr. Taulke,” he said.

  “Anthony, General.” Taulke slid him arm around Graves’s shoulders. “We’re colleagues now.” He drew Cora under his other arm and smiled at the cameras.

  • • •

  The new suit provided by Anthony’s tailor fit Graves’s frame like a glove. He admired his new look in his new d
ata glasses as the tailor’s drone spun around his body. The cut of the charcoal gray suit made him look sleek and trim, his shoulders broader, chest deeper. Hell, it even made him feel taller.

  “Acceptable, sir?” The tailor was a wizened older man with a fringe of gray and kind eyes. A tape measure hung around his neck but Graves had not seem him touch it, so he guessed it was just part of his outfit.

  “It’s … magnificent. I’ve never had a suit like this before.”

  The old man chuckled. “Few have. It’s smartfabric. It reads your surroundings and adjusts to suit your needs.” He laughed at his own pun, then leaned in. “I even upgraded you to the bullet-resistant jacket. It’s a little heavier material, but your frame can handle the extra bulk.” He ran his hand across Graves’s lapel in a way that felt oddly intimate.

  Graves took a step back. “Bullet-resistant?”

  The old man pursued him, hooking his finger into the V where the suit jacket crossed Graves’s body and the snowy white shirt started. Graves felt the suit tighten against his ribcage.

  “That’s better.” The tailor nodded. “The suit fabric is blended with the same polymer used to make bulletproof materials. Depending on the caliber of weapon, you’d survive.”

  “A handgun?”

  He shrugged. “Probably. We don’t do a lot of testing. I think it’s more of a marketing pitch, honestly.” The tailor fussed with his lapels again and Graves stepped back.

  “Thank you. I think we’re good here.”

  He waited for the tailor to leave, then turned to the window to admire himself again. Part of him couldn’t wait for Cora to see him. He did a turn and looked at his backside in the window.

  Graves stopped. What the hell was he doing? Six hours into living like one of the elite and he was checking out his own ass in the window.