The taxi driver was directed to the pier and when he arrived
with minutes to spare,
generously tipped the driver and climbed out into the
bright sun
. He donned dark shades before
proceed
ing
swiftly
up the
boardwalk
.
The wood
plank
s
knocked
under
e
very
step as he
read the names o
f each
nautical vessel
he passed
.
Docked here were many
shiny vessels, undoubtedly
possessions of
wealthy
businessmen
on vacation or p
roperty of
the island’s rich inhabitants
. He surveyed the marina
wondering which
nautical craft
was the
Habibi
Dah.
A
tall
dark man clad in a crisp white shirt and khaki’s
walked toward him.
Nico assessed him within seconds
. This
was his contact.
“Mr. Grant?”
The man
asked
.
“
Yes.”
“This way,” he said
and
escorted
Nico
to a nondescript boat tucked between
a set of
sl
ee
k
yachts
.
His
escort climbed onto the
bow of the vessel and waited for Nico to join him
, then
pointed
below
deck.
Nico
crouched
to
descend the
narrow stairs
and carefully navigated
its
steep decline
.
At the
bottom
of the
landing
an armed
man
waited
expectantly
for Michael Grant’s
arrival.
“Mr. Grant, I have to check you
.
”
Nico placed his arms out to the side and
took a wide stance
in preparation
for a thorough pat down
.
The man confiscated Nico’s cellular, wallet and belt, “I’ll return these
after the
meeting.”
T
he items
were
placed
on an overhead shelf
then
Nico was ushered
into
a
wide
cabin
occupied by a trio of men
.
H
e
was
asked to sit in
a
reserved s
pace
in the
corner nook
and the man exited. Nico surveyed the elusive men known in the arms world as the
‘Three
Kings’.
A
wealthy
group of
Islamic
i
nvestors
with an
impressive
acquisition portfolio
and limitless resources
.
Egyptian, Iranian and Jordanian financiers
who
acquired
their fortune
from selling
oil
and
arms
.
The Three Kings identities were well protected
until now. The elaborate plan to flush them out worked and here they sat
interest
ed
in buying
a shell corporation
set-up by
his boss.
Cybertronics
was a phony multi-million
dollar
software
company
with a patented
revolutionary
processing chip. It’s e
xpected earnings upon IPO
estimated in the billions.
Greed is a powerful seductress.
Their atte
mpt
at
a hostile acquisition of
one of
Palazzo Enterprises
’ holdings
back
ed
by
the
Monticelli’s
proved an unwise and deadly miscalculation.
The thing about money is its owner
s
believe it can buy anything, unfortunately it cannot.
“
Michael Grant
,
finally
,
” the man seated facing the door said
.
Nico
faked a nervous smile, “How could I refuse a free trip to
Barbados?”
T
he man
who spoke
wore a
traditional
turban and a western-style suit
and a garish diamond encrusted
watch
.
This was
in juxtaposition
to the
hadith
which governed the dress code for Muslims
.
A
lavish display of wealth on one’s person was prohibited as written in the
Qur’an
.
“I am
Salid
,” his hand gestured to the man at his right, “my brother Abdul,” the
n
he introduced
a
b
ea
r
ded
man on
his left, “
my brother
Mahmoud.”
Nico looked each man in the eye,
“
Well, now that the introductions are over can we
a
ddress
why you
insisted
we meet?”
“
I
mpatient
as most
American
’s
,”
Salid
stated.
Nico would have laughed at the misnomer but
kept his mouth shut.
How easy it is to be mistaken for an American when there is no trace of an accent and one’s words are bold. Frankly, he found the association a compliment despite his Italian-Roman ancestry.
“
Yes, Americans
,” Mahmoud interjected.
Nico resented
the
ir smug demeanor and pretentious airs cloaked in
insult
.
He
continued without
contrition, “I am a busy man. If I recall correctly
I was threatened with
dissolution of my company
.
”
Mahmoud’s
dark eyes twinkled
with mirth
, “
And that is what we will do Mr. Grant unless you agree to
s
ell
us your company. We have put together a generous offer that will make you a very rich
man.”
The arrogance
of the
trio.
Nico sat back. The
men were
extremely confident. Undoubtedly, their unorthodox
b
usiness tactics yielded
favorable results
with others
. T
heir influence and money
frightened lesser
men into acquiescence.
Nico play
ed
it cool.
T
his
entire
act of subterfuge required months
of
careful
planning
.
He was the messenger of death
to carry out
its conclusion. He could not blow it, his boss could have sent any number of guys but he chose Nico. This Nico took as a sign of faith in his abilities.
So, he
played the role cast
of a
n
American
businessman
being coerced to sell his company.
“Why my company?”
“We feel your company has excellent potential in the international market,
”
Salid
answered
,
confident of Mr. Grant’s final decision.
Nico found humor in their ignorance.
Abdul placed a legal
document
on
the table, “Our purchase agreement.”
Nico read
it
and found
the offer of
th
irty million dollars
a puny sum for a promising software
company.
He
tapped his finger
on the fine paper
, “
Is this a joke
?”
“That is our
offer;
you’ll be wise to accept
.
”
“And if I refuse?”
“We are reasonable men
but
this is our only monetary offer
unless you prefer an alternative
option.”
“And that is?”
“
We
kill you but only after you have signed.”
Motherfucker
!
Nico remain
ed
composed, “I need a minute
to read this
…
please.
”
The men looked at one another
. It was Mahmoud who spoke, “Certainly.”
T
he
y
departed
and Nico
smirked. The arrogant pieces of crap
it was going to be a pleasure killing them
! He fumbled with the button on his shirt then carefully
removed
a
tiny circular
device
.
He held the volatile
object gingerly
then
slid it in
a small crack
of the seat
.
He removed another
tiny
explosive and placed the second one in the corner near the door then returned to his seat.
Out of curiosity he skimmed through the document, frowning as he read. The language was clear. The purchase agreement stripped him of control along with any company owned patents and licensing. Wow, what a contract!
He heard voices and
sat upright. He’d set the activation on the explosives by clicking his pen.
The automatic timer
g
ave
Nico
les
s than fifteen minutes to get off the boat
or else he’d fin
d
himself swimming in the ocean too
.
The door opened
and
Salid
entered on cue, “
H
ave you decided?”
He felt like a contestant on a high-stakes game show,
“
I
’ll take the money.
”
Mahmoud and Abdul hovered at the door as he signed the document.
Salid
smiled
b
roadly
and removed a cashiers’ check from his breast pocket.
“
You decided wisely
.
”
A hand retrieved the signed contract in exchange for the thirty million dollar cashier’s check.
“
O
ur business is concluded
Mr. Grant
.
You are free to leave
with your life
.
”
Nico
tucked the
check away
in his pocket and
headed for the door
.
The men watched him closely,
their keen
eyes
observant
for
any change of heart.
Nico
halt in the doorway, one last scene before the finale, “Do me a favor.”
S
alid
replied
, “If it can be done, certainly.”
“
T
ry to retain
my employees
until the American economy rebounds
. Some of th
ose
people helped make the company what it is
.
”
This request surprised
Salid
. An altruistic American businessman was a rarity.
He smiled, “Charitable deeds are a requirement of Islam.
We will do our best
.”