part0051

On one hand, to walk around and get a little sunshine on a bright day was always pleasant, but he could do that without having to trek all through creation with bugs taking a slice of him every step of the way. Worse, he had to try to whack a tiny white ball across the grass, only to walk or drive another fair distance to whack it again. And, horror of horrors, he had to wear his delighted executive smile and pretend to love every minute of it.

People called this a sport, but he never really understood why. The real game was the play that took place behind its civilized veneer. Like everything else, Charles had learned it from his father. He’d also learned the far more gratifying power it unleashed for those who were willing to pay the price. While he often cursed the nagging injuries that manifested with greater discomfort and regularity, he had to admit that it had, when played by his rules, brought many more benefits than irritations.

Of course, he had always been of the opinion that the game-related conversation was always better achieved over brandy and cigars and that exercise and sunshine could be acquired in other ways. He liked swimming, for one thing. It remained a sore point that he’d always been strong at that and even reached varsity on his school’s team until his father pulled him out to start his career in business. He’d never forgiven the old man for that, but the old bastard was dead, and Charles had forced his three siblings out of the will in retribution for their lack of sacrifice. He’d learned that from his father, too.

Forgiveness was overrated, anyway, and thoughts of his revenge helped to make what was still an onerous pretense a little more bearable. It reminded him how much he had in the game, as it were.

“Everett,” he said with a smile as today’s golfing buddy walked over to him. His caddie jogged to keep up with the man and Charles suppressed a surge of annoyance. Despite being a full ten years older than he was, Everett Pedersen had managed to stay in shape. It wasn’t unthinkable that men twenty years his younger might even be jealous.

A game with Maven was still tucked in the wings, scheduled for a later date that week, and he was pleased that he’d arranged this particular outing first. Despite the age disparity between the two of them, he liked the man, and the feeling had always been mutual. They shared representation on various foundations and charities and were well aware of each other’s accomplishments. A sense of mutual respect had always existed between them, enough that Charles usually suppressed his dislike for the game to join him for a few hours out in the Florida sun to whack at a little white ball with clubs and a ridiculous smile on his face.

“Charles, my friend,” Everett said with a chuckle as the two men hugged for a second.

“You look like a fifty-dollar bill,” he said briskly.

“And you look like a hundred, old sport.” It was an old joke between the two since it had been established early on that with his thick, bushy beard and scowling features, Everett was the very image of Ulysses S. Grant. Charles, with his balding head and calmer appearance, looked a lot like Benjamin Franklin.

The game began without prelude and Everett took an early lead. Charles’ dislike didn’t mean that he wasn’t skilled—he had played since he was sixteen—but against someone who genuinely enjoyed it, he didn’t offer much of a challenge. That said, he didn’t much mind if the right person won. His satisfaction came from elsewhere, after all.

“So,” he said once they were far away enough from the club that they could speak privately without any concern that they would be overheard, “did you have time to look over my proposal?”

The other man looked up from the little white ball on which he’d focused with a small smile on his face. “I did. It was thorough and made for some very interesting reading.”

“Does that interest in the reading translate into any other kind of interest?” he probed.

“Absolutely,” Everett replied with a chuckle. “For one thing, Carlson and I had a number of conversations, and I actually helped direct a fair number of military contracts his way. Having a majority stake in a company whose shares are rocket-high and climbing is always interesting. Of course, that is assuming your confidence that you can turn the current abysmal state of the company around.”

Charles had hoped he wouldn’t bring that particular thorny caveat up. Of all the potential candidates to take over the company, Everett remained his first choice—the one who would sweep Pegasus into the kind of future Anderson and Monroe simply would never grasp. As such, he needed to tread carefully. While he couldn’t avoid the blatant truth, he also didn’t want to make any admissions that might scare the man away.

“There is something I wanted to bring up with you, about that,” Everett continued and refocused on his ball on the fairway before he took a heavy swing at it. He smiled and shielded his eyes against the glare to watch as the white spot rocketed against the blue sky. When it dropped on the smoothly clipped grass on the other side of a pond, he turned his attention back to his companion.

“And what might that be?” Charles fell in beside him as they strolled over to the golf carts where their caddies waited.

“Well, first and foremost, the fact that you’ve offered me something that isn’t even yours,” Everett said bluntly. He slid his club in his golf bag and turned to face him.

“Well, yes, we do have a current CEO, but that will change—” He began what had been rehearsed many times with many other acquaintances he’d contacted.

“Will it, though?” Everett interrupted. “No offense, old friend, but your attempts thus far haven’t gone quite as well as promised. Don’t give me that face,” he snapped as Charles suddenly looked annoyed. “Yes, I’ve kept tabs on this ever since you sent the paperwork to me. Too many power changes in a company are bound to make stock prices plummet, and I’ve already prepared myself to take a lion’s share of the stocks put on the market in a couple of weeks. If you can’t get your affairs in order before then, I won’t need you to put me in a position of power in Pegasus. I’ll do it myself.”

He fought to keep the angry red from suffusing his face. In front of the caddies, he’d been spoken to like he was a child. Everett didn’t bother to wait for him either and simply drove off to the other side of the pond. Charles remained where he was and heaved in a couple of deep breaths to calm himself before he yanked his phone from his pocket and tossed his club at his caddie. The young man ducked to allow the steel rod to careen over his head before he raced to retrieve it.

Part of him wished he’d had better aim. The kid didn’t deserve it, but he might have felt better with a little violence under his belt. He dialed quickly and connected to the secure line in his office before he dialed again.

“Good morning, sir,” came the chocolatey voice on the other side.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “I need our current contract to be finished and I need it done now.”

“I’m afraid that with your limit on spending, our interested parties are still disappointingly few and of…lesser quality.”

“Then up the price.” He glowered at his golfing partner in the distance, who calmly studied his ball with no indication that he was even slightly ruffled by their confrontation. “This contract needs to be done before next week.”

“What kind of limit are we prepared to reach, sir?” the contact asked.

“Push it to half a million for now, excluding the applicable local fees.” His private expenses could bear that easily. They could absorb far more, but he wanted to give himself room to increase should the resources obtained by his addition of funds prove ineffective.

“I’ll update the contract sir,” the mellow voice said. “Have a nice d—”

Charles cut the connection quickly and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He scowled at the caddie, who looked like he might be tempted to run away rather than have things thrown at him. He shook his head, took his seat in the cart, and motioned for the lad to drive after Everett.

Damn it, he would probably have to arrange for the club to give the kid a raise after this.

Taking a nap proved to be impossible under these conditions. Amanda worked outside and kept the door open, and he could hear her arguing with Connie over the AI’s lack of manners. Connie had probably joked about how she hated to see her go and loved to watch her leave or something like that. It seemed the electronic irritation was going through a phase.

Did AIs go through phases?

The question was something that would keep him up all afternoon. Sal opened his eyes regretfully and pushed off the couch in the living area. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t simply go to bed given how exhausted he felt, but he didn’t want to go to his room. Despite everything, he didn’t really mind being around to hear the hubbub of his little base. Being around the people he’d grown to care about was comforting, oddly enough.

He breathed deeply and stretched. Maybe all he needed was coffee. That would do better than a nap these days.

Ever hopeful, he wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything left in Amanda’s pot. He would ask Madigan the niggling question once she returned. She might not know much about AIs and their emotional phases, but she would definitely have a few choice opinions on the subject that would be entertaining.

“Salinger Jacobs.” A voice spoke from behind him and he turned quickly. Courtney stepped down from the stairs. She’d obviously just woken up and wore one of his shirts. Jet lag was killing her as it always did, and it would take a day or so for her to bounce back from her latest return from the States. She liked jumping back and forth between her responsibilities in Philadelphia and those in the Zoo, but the price was the fact that her body could never fully settle into a solid sleep schedule.

Oh, right, he recalled blearily. That was why he hadn’t gone to his room for a nap. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up.

“What are you doing up?” Sal asked. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I missed you, is all,” she said with a smile, her head tilted teasingly and perhaps even invitingly. “And the fact that I’ve already slept for six hours which, to be honest, is about the longest I’ve slept over the past year or so.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t sleep in, right?” he asked and rubbed her back absently. “You could always take a day off and try to fit in some of that resting and relaxing people talk about. I hear it’s all the rage in California.”

“Oh, please. The people in Cali haven’t heard of relaxing for at least a decade.” Courtney laughed. “And I was resting and relaxing until Anja sent me an alert on my phone and woke me up. I checked what it was, and I couldn’t sleep after that.”

“I’m sure I could help you with that.” He grinned lasciviously before he leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “I seem to remember you being very tired after our morning calisthenics.”

“People have said I need to get more exercise in.” She grinned cheekily.

“Hey, Anja,” Sal shouted.

“Yeah, that’s what a girl likes, hearing her guy shouting another girl’s name,” Courtney grumbled.

“What?” the hacker yelled from the server room.

“Why are you sending Courtney messages? You know she’s supposed to be resting right now. She gets enough stress without you adding to it.”

“I didn’t send her anything.” Anja stepped cautiously out of the dark room with all the computers and looked like she hadn’t slept in days. “She has her phone set to receive automatic updates on the Pegasus situation.”

“It wasn’t really about Pegasus, per se,” Courtney said. “It only said that one of our board members added personal funds to a foundation he opened. A cool quarter million. It’s weird that it doesn’t seem like a lot of money anymore—that is weird, right?”

“Wait, what?” The Russian frowned as she stretched and swung to ease her back. “What foundation?”

“Something called the Ferros Deduction.”

“Oh…oh, crap,” Anja said softly. “Ferros Deduction is an online messaging board for…well, all kinds of crimes. I use it myself, but I always lay low and never buy, only sell. If he’s added money there, it means he’s put funds up for a contract. Which member of the board was that?”

“Charles Stafford.” Courtney checked her phone for the name again, her expression one of distaste. She hadn’t much liked the man or his attempt to challenge her, and maybe her aversion had been well-founded.

“Oh, right, I remember that name.” The hacker snatched the phone from the other woman’s hand and tapped the alert before she pressed a couple of buttons—digging deeper, Sal assumed. “Well, the foundation he put the money under is called James Anderson, so that can’t be good. I guess the positive side is that it’s not under your name too, although I’ll dig into that as well. What this means is that he put an open contract on Anderson. Well, technically, he put a lot more money into a contract on the colonel’s life, which means a much higher echelon of killer will be enlisted. I need to warn him.”

Sal narrowed his eyes. Anja talked like she no longer even realized they were there. He knew he did that sometimes too, but he’d never realized how annoying it was from the other side of the conversation.

Well, monologue, technically, but why split hairs?

“Drop him the info, plus everything else,” Courtney said with a smile. “And see if we need to hire a counter-hit to keep him safe.”

Anja had tossed the phone onto a counter and started to make another pot of coffee. She continued to talk to herself in a mixture of Russian and English, which Sal suddenly realized meant she wasn’t talking to herself but rather to someone over the headset she wore. How had he missed that?

Courtney burrowed closer to him and press a light kiss to his cheek.

“You have grown a little bloodthirsty,” he said with a grin and returned the kiss with far more demand on her lips.

“Come on,” she whined and dragged the last word out over three or four syllables. “I’ve read R and D papers for the past forty-eight hours, give or take a couple of hours of sleep here and there. I’m not bloodthirsty, I’m horny!”

“It’s weird how your brain associates research and development with sex. I like it.”

“Of course, you do. You might even consider what we do some very interesting research of our own, all things considered.”

“Right.” Sal nodded with mock seriousness. “Biological research is my forte, now that I think about it.”

“Well, I think I’m the one who will run tests.” She bit her bottom lip with evil speculation. “You’re merely a test subject. My very…proactive test subject.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m always down for a little more physical testing. Let’s get to work.”

The two of them started walking back to his bedroom and Anja stopped her work to watch them.

“Like fucking rabbits,” she grumbled in Russian and shook her head. It wasn’t like they had anything more important to be concerned about or anything.

Well, they didn’t really. That was why they paid people like her and Savage to take care of the situation. Which meant they had done all they could and worrying about it would only stress Anja to the point of distracting her from her work.