part0037

There were moments in his life that he considered to be victories. Finally taking over the company after his father’s death and after most of the board members had made it clear that they didn’t believe in him enough to give him the top spot was one of those. Proving them wrong had been how he’d earned his laurels in the business world and had been the foundation that brought him the respect of the people he had worked with and against. He’d shown them that he had the kind of ruthlessness and political skill that was called for in the upper echelons of company control.

Earning the first non-government contract for the goop that had come from the sky in what felt like forever ago was another. The board hadn’t wanted to share their finds and were determined to ensure that all the profits were strictly for the military. It had been him, though, who had strong-armed those assholes into sharing. Of course, that had eventually ended with the goop being sent to the Sahara and the whole clusterfuck it subsequently turned into. But he stood by his actions, especially in light of everything that they were learning and extracting from that place.

It had proven to be a tough gamble to stand by, but he had. He’d believed that what happened over there was the future of mankind and the little blue marble they called their home planet—and even the way humanity would actually reach beyond it. So much of the research he promoted went into keeping his company solvent despite massive expansions over recent years.

Of course, money was only there to keep the investors happy. Cash certainly helped to keep him in a relatively comfortable position, but what he really did all this for—his justification for using extreme measures to keep his place in the company—was the future of mankind.

Megalomania aside, he knew what he did was for his fellow man. He knew that if he actually told anyone about his plans, he would have to launch into a tirade like every other person who thought they could save the world with phrases like “greater good” and “bigger picture.” In reality, that was exactly the kind of conversation that nobody liked to have. It sounded too grandiose to be true, and when people actually counted the cost of what he did, they would back away.

Well, he assumed so, anyway. He hadn’t actually told anyone about his attempts to turn the goop extracted from the Zoo into fuel that could sustain the world’s needs once the oil wells ran dry. Or, for that matter, about the scientists involved in the research who told him that the byproducts from the goop’s usage went from negligible to beneficial to the environment. There were even tests that showed potential for fuel for rockets that could be sent into space which would weigh a quarter of what traditional fuel did and provide up to three times the burn rate. Everything was on the table with this stuff.

But now, he had to put a halt to it all because two people were small-minded regarding the sacrifices made. They would do their best to steal it all from him and use the equally small-minded policies of the men and women in government and their power against him. It wasn’t fair, but it was life. He hadn’t expected to change the world single-handedly without a couple of obstacles along the way.

Carlson leaned back in his seat and toyed with the glass of apple juice in his hand. He had told himself that he would stop drinking so much and he had done precisely that. Of course, he would have preferred tomato juice since it would have served as a replacement for the Bloody Mary he usually had in the morning when he did this kind of cold-turkey quitting. But, with Linus gone, he’d had to find a replacement who wasn’t quite up to snuff.

He scowled at the glass as his limo pulled into the airport. Of course, he would have to put all his plans on hold as he would leave the country before the warrants and subpoenas started flooding in. Everything would have to wait until he finished his vacation. He would start in Switzerland, he decided—collect his resources and bring everyone up to speed on his situation. Maybe a couple of months in the Caymans would be beneficial too. That might make Monroe and Anderson think they had won before he returned with all the considerable might of his foreign allies behind him.

Since targeting them directly had failed so miserably, it was all he could do, really. In retrospect, his campaign had been a mistake, but he had reacted to their very aggressive business style that forced him into a situation he simply wasn’t comfortable with. It was annoying to have to work around people like that.

As they moved onto the tarmac, Carlson smiled at the sight of the corporate jet all ready and set for takeoff. There had been a hint of petty revenge on his mind when he’d made sure that the plane that would spirit him away from all his troubles was a company plane. His sense of satisfaction had marginally improved when he’d secured his current position in Pegasus and filed all the paperwork that would keep him on the payroll. In essence, he remained untouchable until he returned from his time abroad. He didn’t like having to accept small rewards like this, but they deserved it. That and much, much worse.

The vehicle eased to a stop and a few seconds later, his new driver stood outside and held the door open for him. Carlson sighed and really hoped the jet had a fully stocked bar. He didn’t remember if his request had included the fact that he was on a cleanse. If it had, he would be miserable all the way to Bern.

He stepped out and buttoned the top of his jacket before he strolled casually to the plane. He wasn’t sure he liked the fact that whoever had made the arrangements didn’t think to add a security team to ensure that the short walk across an open area was made without any attempts on his life. While he knew he was in the right, people tended to react poorly when large numbers of armed men were sent to kill them.

His momentary concern proved unfounded and he made his way up the steps and paused to look around and enjoy the last touch of the morning breeze that drifted by before he stepped into the cabin.

No flight attendant greeted him. A quick glance confirmed that even the pilots seemed absent. Carlson couldn’t help the alarm bells that now rang loudly in his head, all made worse by the fact that when he stepped onto the passenger deck, a stranger waited for him. The man sipped from a glass filled with an amber liquid and a couple of ice cubes.

Well, at least there was a stocked bar there. Unfortunately, his moment of relief was quickly dashed when he realized that there was a gun in the visitor’s other hand.

The intruder didn’t look like much, really. His brown hair was slicked back, and he wore a black suit with no tie that looked new and rather expensive. A cut on his eyebrow and another on his lip as well as some bruising on his knuckles was ample evidence that he wasn’t there to talk. It seemed logical that he was most likely the man responsible for the lack of reception by security, stewardess, or pilots.

Carlson took a deep breath to calm the nerves that suddenly stirred as he walked over to sit across from the stranger. He had to admit, the man knew how to make an impression. The slick, clean-cut appearance and the all-black suit gave a sense of a civilized man that contrasted sharply with the bruises and cuts.

“I assume you’re the one whom I have to thank for all the misfortune that has crossed my path over the last week or so,” the executive said with a pleasant smile.

He took a moment to pour himself a glass of scotch and dropped a couple of ice cubes in it before he leaned back in his seat. “Between you and me, I didn’t think that Anderson and Monroe had the balls to come after me like that but damned if they didn’t come through. My first time conducting an aggressive company takeover was actually very similar, believe it or not. For one thing, it was Pegasus that I took over after my father passed away. Of course, back then, I had the help of my friend Linus, the man who—”

“The man whom I killed in the hotel. I remember,” the intruder in black replied and took another sip from his glass. Even his voice wasn’t that impressive—not too thick, for one thing, and not the kind of gravel that most men tried to pass off as a growl. He wasn’t there to talk to the man he had thwarted for the past week and a half. Instead, he gave the impression that he was simply there to have a chat over a drink. Linus had told him there wasn’t anything about the man that stood out and that he wouldn’t recognize him if he came across him on the street. Carlson hadn’t believed him, but he did now.

Poor Linus. He would send his family a gift basket for the funeral since he wouldn’t be able to attend in person.

“Well,” he said after the silence hung between them for a little longer than he was comfortable with. “I don’t suppose I could ask you for a name. I respect what Monroe and Anderson have been able to do, but you’re the one who painted the canvas they’re selling.”

He shrugged in response. “Call me Savage.”

Savage. Huh. He liked that. He tilted his head and smiled. It wasn’t a real name, obviously, but rather a title the man had given himself. Normally, he wasn’t a fan of people giving themselves mean or edgy names, but in this case, it fit. He’d seen the results of the man’s work.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m on a tight schedule,” he said when things went a little too quiet for his taste again. “Playing hardball isn’t the kind of thing I would usually associate with moralists like Anderson and Monroe, but hey, I don’t mind being wrong once in a while. It keeps me on my toes and fills me with hope that the world does indeed have the capacity to surprise me. So, what do you want? I assume Anderson and Monroe want my time at Pegasus to come to an end, and while they have no idea of the consequences of their actions, I won’t put my life on the line to keep them from making the biggest mistakes of their lives.”

Savage remained silent and simply stared at him while he sipped casually from his drink. Carlson couldn’t help but feel annoyed. There was hardball and there was hardball, but you had to play for it to work, right?

“Look, what do they want, hmm?” he asked and made to take another sip from his drink before he realized there was nothing but ice left. “Do they want me to sign over my shares in the company? I’ll expect to be generously compensated for them, of course, but that’s nothing that a quick meeting with some numbers and checks won’t solve.”

His visitor remained silent and the executive let his frustration show as Savage calmly finished his drink and put the glass on the table beside him before he leaned forward.

“Well, you have one thing right, Carlson,” he said with a small smile. The man’s weapon was aimed directly at his stomach. “Your time at Pegasus is at an end, although probably not the kind of end you wanted.”

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled and tried to shift out of the way of the gun in as subtle a way as possible. Did this man intend to kill him? More importantly, did he think he would get away with it?

“You see, Carlson…” The way he said the name sent chills up the executive’s spine. “You made two mistakes. The first was to assassinate the people who worked for you—and after you’d already fired them, no less.”

The grim expression darkened and triggered a responsive shiver that Carlson couldn’t control. “The second was to go after a man’s family. In normal circumstances, I would be here with papers and a check and tell you not to return to the country for a couple of years. But you crossed a line and made it personal.

“See, between you and me, I’m not that great when it comes to morals. Call it an abusive stepfather and an absentee mother or something, but either way, I’ve always needed to be around people who laid out what was expected of me by society when it comes to right and wrong. It doesn’t always make sense, but honestly, it doesn’t always have to. One thing I learned is that you don’t go after the innocent or the families until you’re ready to put everything on the line and you don’t care about the consequences.”

Carlson gulped, his mouth suddenly dry, and his gaze flickered to the decanter of scotch on the table. He really needed another drink.

“I can tell that you’re like me in that way,” Savage continued. “You don’t really have your own set of morals, so you abide by those given to you by others. You don’t care about your own family, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to go after them either. So, to hurt you in a way that warns you to stay away from Monroe, Anderson, and their families if you are ever in the mood for revenge, I’ll need to take something else away from you—something you really do care about. Like, for instance, the ability to walk without a cane for the rest of your life.”

“What?” he asked but rather than answer, the man lowered the sights on the suppressed Colt in his hand and pulled the trigger. The pop was louder than Carlson had anticipated, and pain radiated through his leg as the bullet shattered his kneecap and sliced through the joint to tear the tendons inside.

“Fuck!” he screamed as he fell from his seat and clutched his right knee. He jolted and shrieked in agony as he tried to drag himself along the floor and away from the madman.

“They told me not to kill you,” Savage said coldly. “But I felt that a warning was in order. You don’t fuck my employers or those who can’t fight back.”

“It…was only business,” Carlson hissed through clenched teeth. He’d never been shot before, and this was easily the worst pain that he’d ever felt in his life.

His attacker stood with casual ease and took the time to close the top button of his jacket before he towered over the wounded man.

“Of course. This is also only business. Here’s what’s gonna happen. The first thing you’ll do is surrender your Pegasus shares. The board will either buy them or sell them, but don’t expect the best price. The value is bound to plummet when word gets out that the ex-CEO has been arrested.”

“Arrested?” Despite the pain, Carlson managed to voice his scorn and indignation in equal measure. “You have no proof—at least nothing that can be used in court.”

Savage laughed, and the sound burrowed a cold coil of dread in the executive’s stomach. “You forgot the file,” he responded. “You know—the one you inadvertently left in your office?”

“Don’t ever underestimate me, Carlson. I know everything there is to know about you—like how your fireteams were destroyed when you sent them against Anderson and how no one out there is willing to sign on to replace them. I know who they were and where they came from. Oh yes, we tracked every last one of those sonsofbitches so I could be sure they paid for what they did. Now, it’s your turn.”

Savage crouched beside him and despite his suffering and his fear, he could do nothing but stare at the calm, unassuming green eyes of the man who held his life in his hands.

“The FBI has all they need to prosecute you and put you away for a long time. But don’t think I’ll forget about you. If you want me to stay away, you’ll forget everything about me when they question you. And, should you ever be tempted to make a comeback against me or my employers, remember this.” His attacker patted his cheek, then made a face when he felt the cold sweat that now sheened his skin. “Remember me. And remember the lengths that I will go to and that I can reach you wherever you are, even in jail. Do not push me.”

He straightened and tucked the pistol into the holster under his arm, then retrieved the glass he’d used, shook the last few drops out, and slipped it in his pocket. “Your escorts should arrive soon. Enjoy your extended jailcation.”

Without a backward glance, he strolled out of the plane.

“Fuck,” Carlson snapped. He’d been outplayed. He had no doubt that his assailant had covered his tracks. Even if he’d left the gun, it wouldn’t have traced back to him. How the hell had he been so blindsided?

He would have time to think about the answer, Carlson realized, as the shrill wail of sirens intruded through his rampant thoughts. Too much time, given what that fucking file had contained.