Part 10 (1/2)
”I do,” Gillette confirmed. ”And I'll get you four box seats on the fifty-yard line. But, in return, if I get to 14.5 billion first, I want another five hundred million from you. I want a billion five in total. Is it a deal?”
Whitman thought for a moment. ”Deal.”
”Good.”
”One more thing,” Whitman called.
”What?”
”How much key man life insurance is Ben Cohen carrying on you?”
”Five million.”
”Tell him to triple that.”
7.
Enemies. They are everywhere. They are everywhere.
”MR. STRAZZI WILL BE WITH you in a moment.”
The young woman wore a revealing top and a pleated skirt that rose high on her tanned, tapered legs. Mason tried not to look, but his eyes kept flickering to her bare skin.
”Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
Mason snapped himself out of it, remembering how cold the barrel of the pistol had felt against his temple that night after the funeral reception. He'd been just about to pull the trigger when Strazzi called. ”Water's fine.”
”Okay.” She hesitated, her full lips breaking into a smile.
A suggestive smile, he was certain. He tried to fight it but smiled back. It was instinct.
”I'll be right back.”
Mason cursed under his breath when she was gone. He couldn't keep going on like this. At some point, there wouldn't be any more chances.
”Here you are,” she said, returning to the office a few moments later with bottled water and a gla.s.s of ice. She put the gla.s.s down on a table beside the leather chair and poured.
”Thanks.”
”Oh, sure,” she said, doing a double take.
”What is it?” he asked, catching the hint of recognition on her face. He'd seen that same look on the faces of other women before.
”Has anyone ever told you that you look a little like Brad Pitt?”
”Um, no.”
”Oh, I doubt that.” She put the bottle down beside the gla.s.s. ”Why don't you stop by on your way out,” she suggested. ”I'm right down the hall. My name's Vicky.”
Her hand hung suspended in front of him-sinewy fingers and long nails highlighted at the tips by a perfect French manicure. ”Hi, Vicky.” His fingers closed around hers. ”I'm Troy.”
”Troy Mason, Mason, right?” right?”
”Right.”
”Paul's been looking forward to meeting with you.”
”He has?”
”Oh yes.” She gave him another smile, then twirled around and headed out of the office. ”See you in a little while,” she called over her shoulder.
Mason watched until she disappeared, allowing himself a few seconds of vulgar fantasy. The h.e.l.l with it. Dogs had to hunt.
”You like that?” a loud voice boomed into the office.
Mason's eyes snapped toward the voice. Paul Strazzi stood in the doorway opposite the one Vicky had just gone through.
”She's smart, too,” Strazzi continued, sitting down behind his desk without shaking hands. ”Not just a pretty face.”
Mason said nothing, thinking about what a terrible first impression he'd made.
”Glad you could come by this morning, Troy.” Strazzi was a bear of a man. Six six and 240 pounds with a barrel chest and a ma.s.sive skull covered by a full head of short-cropped gray hair. Still in decent shape for a fifty-seven-year-old. ”No need to be so dressed up,” he said, gesturing at Mason's necktie. ”We're business casual here at Apex. One small way out of many that we're different from Everest.”
”Different from Everest. I like the sound of that.”
”I'm sure you do.” Strazzi gestured again. ”So take it off.”
”What?”
”The tie. Take it off.”
Mason slowly undid the knot, then slid the tie from around his neck and draped it over the arm of the chair.
”Undo the top b.u.t.ton of your s.h.i.+rt, too.”
Mason obeyed.
”That's better,” Strazzi said. ”Now we can relax.”
Mason had never met Strazzi, but he'd heard the man was eccentric-and dictatorial. That he ran Apex Capital with an iron fist. That no decision was made without his input. From which companies they bought to the brand of paper clips they used.
”So your partner, Chris Gillette, fires you the day after he takes control of Everest.” Strazzi sneered. ”That's a h.e.l.l of a thing.”
The image of taillights gliding away into the darkness at the Donovan estate was etched into Mason's memory. Gliding away as he picked himself up off the asphalt. ”Yes, it is.”
”You should have expected it.”