Authors: C. De Melo
Charles White extended his hand to me and
I shook it. “We have a deal, Ms. Adams. Had I known it would be this easy I wouldn’t have sent my men to search your bungalow. Hell, I wouldn’t have wasted my time flying out here! I missed a down-home Texas barbeque for this.” He chuckled and added, “And I was told you were a hellcat who’d put up a fight…why, you’re just as sweet as pecan pie.”
My eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”
“Why, your husband, of course. When the CIA confronted him about putting you in charge of ALTSYS, he told them you were a ruthless hellcat in business who could oversee the UAN deal.”
“What?!”
He shrugged. “Those were his exact words according the agent on my payroll.” Lance and I exchanged looks and White added, “Looks to me like your ex-husband is seeking revenge on you for having the hots for his little brother…if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, Ms. Adams.”
“That son-of-a-bitch,” I said under my breath.
“Sum-bitch is right,” White repeated. “Man like him deserves to be in prison. Lucky for you he’ll be there for life. And lucky for you that I didn’t have you-” he glanced at Lance, “or you- killed. Good thing I’m a reasonable man. My momma raised me right.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until White offered me his handkerchief.
“Tell you what I’m gonna do,” he said. “I’d like to compensate you for what happened here tonight. I’ll put you both up at the best hotel on the island and reserve first class tickets on tomorrow night’s flight. You’ll meet with one of my lawyers at ALTSYS when you get to D.C. He’ll have papers for you to sign. How’s that?”
I nodded. “That’s fine, Mr. White.”
“Well then, I’ll have my men make the arrangements.” He stood and bowed to me. It was such an old-fashioned gesture it caught me off-guard. Turning to the three men, he said, “Do it.”
Charles White walked out of the room and my knees almost buckled. Lance placed an arm around me and looked at the men.
“Come with us,” one of them said.
We were led
outside via a back door to a vehicle. Lance and I sat in the backseat with one of the men while the other two sat up front. No one spoke as the car headed towards the most expensive beach resort on the island; a luxury high-rise. We were taken to the penthouse and told that our airline tickets would be waiting for us downstairs tomorrow morning. We were also left with the cryptic warning that Mr. White was ‘a man of his word.’
The moment Lance and I
were alone, I said, “Well, that way easy.”
The sui
te was surrounded by reflective tinted glass, allowing us a splendid 360 degree view. The moonlight shimmered on the water.
I walked towa
rds the glass. “I still can’t believe Michael would do something like this.”
“Believe it because he did.”
I turned to look at Lance. “What now?”
He came to stand beside me. “We go to Washington and take care of business.”
I bit my lower lip in thought. “What about Michael? Do you think what Brady said was true?”
“About him being killed if the deal falls through?” I nodded and he continued, “
I don’t know, but it’s definitely possible.”
“I don’t want that kind of guilt hanging over our heads,” I admitted.
“Guilt? I’d call it self-defense. Remember, Michael didn’t think twice about putting you in harm’s way.”
I nodded and he led me away from the glass.
“We both need some food and then some sleep. Why don’t you take a nice hot shower? You’ll feel better. I’ll order room service.”
He was right. As the hot water massaged my neck and shoulders, my thoughts were on Michael. If he died as a result of my actions, I couldn’t allow myself to feel responsible
. It was indeed self-defense.
The following day White’s men left a message for us stating that we should enjoy the day before they accompanied us to the airport. We knew they were watching us, but we took their advice and spent a pleasant afternoon on the beach. Later that night we were escorted to the airport and White’s men watched us as we boarded the plane.
***
T
wo of White’s men met us at the airport in D.C. Lance and I assumed they were armed and prepared to take action if we refused to accompany them.
One of them said, “We’re here to take you to the ALTSYS corporate headquarters. Warren Blake is already waiting for you.”
Neither of them spoke afterward. They dropped us off at ALTSYS where we found Mr. Blake sitting in the main lobby. He wore an impeccable navy blue pinstriped suit with a chartreuse silk handkerchief tucked in his coat pocket. His closely cropped grey hair and violet rimmed designer glasses were fashionable. He stood the moment he saw me enter through the door, and quickly walked towards me.
“Ms. Adams, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly.
He only shook my hand after I offered it to him- a man of old fashioned manners. “Hello.”
“I take it you were already briefed by my client
about what we’ll be doing here today.”
“Yes
, he said there’d be papers for me to sign.”
“Correct.”
He looked around and asked, “Is there somewhere private we can go?”
I also looked around the vast lobby. Six elevators stared back at me. The building was at least twenty storie
s high and I had never once stepped foot inside of it until today. “Forgive me, Mr. Blake, but I have no idea where anything is.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Mr. White mentioned that you
were quite unaware of your ex-husband’s transference of company shares. Wait right here a moment.”
Mr. Blake picked up his brie
fcase and walked to a polished mahogany desk along the far wall where three attendants were ready to welcome and help guests. Several security guards watched us closely.
“I wonder if the stockholders know yet,” Lance said.
“I hope not. They may want to skin me alive if they see me in here.”
Mr. Blake walked towards us with a slight smile on his face. “I was directed to the top floor where your ex-husband’s office is located.”
I cringed inwardly. “Won’t it be locked?”
“I was told it was opened by the authorities when he was taken into custody.”
We took the elevator to the top floor. People stared at us as we walked through a wide corridor. One woman narrowed her eyes at me in recognition and I pretended not to notice. Predictably, Michael’s office was at the end and took up a large chunk of the entire floor. A large glass and metal desk was in the center of the room and several chairs and sofas were scattered about, along with a bar area (complete with stainless steel sink and refrigerator). Several modern sculptures and artwork were also on display. The view from the windows was impressive. Mr. Blake indicated the red leather swivel chair behind the desk and I sat down. It felt awkward.
The woman who
had eyed me in the corridor now stood in the doorway. “Mrs. Adams?” she asked, surprised.
Mr. Blake and Lance turned to look at her, but neither man said a word.
“That’s
Ms
. Adams,” I replied.
She stepped into t
he room. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“And who are you?” I retorted boldly.
She crossed her arms and took a defensive stance. “I’m Roxanne Tate, Mr. Adams’s personal secretary.”
I would have imagined my ex-husband’s secretary as a voluptuous
blonde and not a sour faced, middle-aged woman with unnatural black hair and no makeup.
“Ms. Adams and I will be conducting a bit of business and some privacy would be appreciated,” Mr. Blake replied on my behalf. “
Oh, and since you
were
Mr. Adams secretary, would you mind pulling up the company’s profits for the last quarter? Ms. Adams would like to review them as well.”
“And you are?” Roxanne asked with almost a snarl.
“Warren Blake, my law firm specializes in corporate and international law,” he replied with a charming smile. “There are important matters to be dealt with in your
former
employer’s absence, so if you’ll please cooperate with us it would be greatly appreciated.”
Roxanne’s face paled. She
nodded and left the room, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“Why do you need to know the profits for last quarter?” I asked.
Mr. Blake shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t, but by requesting it I have undoubtedly stirred a bit of panic in Roxanne.” When I looked at him askance he added, “IRS, audits and all sorts of unpleasantness come to mind when an attorney requests to see a financial report.”
“Oh.”
“Now let’s get down to business, shall we?”
M
r. Blake pulled out a tablet along with a small device that scanned and stored the fingerprints of my right hand. In order to agree to what the documents stated, all I had to do was press the five fingers of my right hand to the screen and that would be my legal signature. I braced myself for hours of legal jargon I wouldn’t understand, but instead he explained each document in layman’s terms. I agreed to everything, pressing my fingertips several times against the screen until the deed was done. As the new head of ALTSYS, I had legally cancelled the clean energy plan with the UAN.
When we were finished
, Mr. Blake put away the tablet and handed me an envelope. “Mr. White instructed me to give you this. I advise you take advantage of his generosity, but of course it is ultimately up to you.” He stood and bowed. “I bid you good day, Ms. Adams, Mr. Adams.”
And without further ado, Mr. Blake left the office to see his own way out.
As I stared after him, I realized that Roxanne had never returned with the report he had requested. I wondered if she suspected what was going on.
Lance
broke my reverie. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
I looked down at the envel
ope in my hands. Inside was a typed letter on what appeared to be parchment paper.
How archaic.
“Dear Ms. Adams,” I read
aloud. “I bet you are now wondering what your next move should be. May I suggest that you and Mr. Adams lay low for awhile until this nasty business blows over? My estate in Texas has a large guest house and it is currently not in use. You are welcome to remain there as my guests. You will be surrounded by more security than you can imagine. My private jet will fetch you at the airport within two hours of calling the following number…”
I looked up a
t Lance, who shrugged. “White did say he was a southern gentleman. I suppose he feels responsible for your safety now that you’ve fully cooperated with him.” He stood and looked at the doorway. “We don’t have much time before Blake puts those documents into effect. We should get out of here.”
I followed him out the door and down the corridor. We were just about to press the elevator button when we heard footsteps running towards us. Four burly security guards with scowls
on their faces were headed our way. Roxanne was standing in the center of the corridor with arms crossed and an angry expression on her face.
“The stairs,” Lance said, pulling me away from the elevators.
We pushed open the emergency exit door and descended the stairs two at a time. A moment later the door banged open and several feet pounded down the steps after us. Lance guided me down a few more flights before opening the door and urging me forward. We were on a floor full of cubicles containing busy workers. Many people looked up as we ran along the main wall. When the security guards opened the door we ducked into one of the cubicles.
A young man
(probably an intern) stared at us wide-eyed as he chewed on a wad of gum. When he rose from his seat to see over the edge of the cubicle, I thought he was going to betray us. I felt Lance’s hand tighten on my arm and we shared a nervous glance. To our relief, the young man stood up, called out to the security team and pointed in the opposite direction. We heard the sound of the men’s footsteps diminishing.
The young man smiled slyly as he sat down. “Coast is clear,” he whispered. At the sight of our surprised faces, he added,
“Fuck ALTSYS and fuck Michael Adams, that phony prick…I hope you’ve done something terrible.”
“
I have,” I assured.
The radi
cal young man nodded as though satisfied. “Good.”
We
left the cubicle, crawled back to the door and quietly slipped through. We descended the stairs and casually walked onto another floor, summoned the elevator and went down to the lobby. Quickly, we walked out of the building unscathed. Lance took hold of my hand as we crossed the street and ducked into an alley that led to a parallel street.
“They already know,” I said.
“Yes, they do.”
“What should we do now?”
Lance let out a deep breath. “Michael will be furious.”