Chapter 7 #2
"The Asian defense sector is undergoing a complete transformation," Shaw explained. "New players, new technologies, new conflicts brewing. Lucky Losers focuses too much on traditional Western military contracts to see the opportunities."
"Our best operatives are currently deployed in Southeast Asia," I said, threading truth into the conversation. "Xander and Ash have been running reconnaissance on exactly those emerging markets for six weeks now. We're not as blind as you assume."
Shaw's smile flickered. Interesting. He hadn't expected that.
"Reconnaissance isn't the same as commitment," he recovered smoothly. "Algerone sends two men to observe while I'm building infrastructure. There's a difference between watching and acting."
"Perhaps." I let the word hang between us, sensing Algerone's attention sharpen across the room. "But you understand, after so many years, I'd need certain... assurances."
"Name them."
"Proof that GidTech can match Lucky Losers' capabilities. I won't jump ship for empty promises."
Shaw's eyes glittered. "What kind of proof would convince you?"
This moment marked the first real betrayal. I sensed Algerone's attention intensify, felt him lean forward slightly.
"I heard about the Banshee prototype going missing," I said carefully, watching Shaw's reaction. "Quite the security breach. That level of precision suggests... professional expertise."
Shaw's expression remained neutral, but satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
"Yes, I heard about that unfortunate incident.
A sonic weapon prototype, wasn't it? Disappeared right from Lucky Losers' own facility.
" He tsked sympathetically. "Security must be quite lax to allow something so valuable to simply vanish. "
"The timing intrigued me," I pressed. "Right after we secured the DoD contract."
"Coincidences happen," Shaw said smoothly. "Though it does raise questions about Lucky Losers' ability to protect sensitive technology. The Pentagon must be... concerned."
"Whoever orchestrated it had inside knowledge. Guard rotations, security protocols, even Dr. Hardin's access codes."
"Dr. Hardin?" Shaw's eyebrows rose in perfectly feigned surprise. "Your lead scientist? How troubling. Has she been located?"
"Not yet." I allowed frustration to color my voice. "Algerone believes she was turned. Personally, I think she saw a better offer elsewhere."
"The private sector can be very persuasive," Shaw agreed. "Especially for undervalued talent."
"Well, Lucky Losers Inc. will need to review its entire security infrastructure," I said, injecting weariness. "The damage to our reputation alone—"
"I've always thought Lucky Losers was a ridiculous name," Shaw interrupted. "Terrible branding for a mercenary company. Makes you sound like gamblers who can't win."
I sensed Algerone stiffen against the wall. This ventured into dangerous territory, touching the superstitions that ran bone-deep.
"You'd need to understand the man to understand the name," I replied carefully. "Sometimes losing the right hand saves your life."
Shaw's eyebrows rose. "Cryptic. Care to elaborate?"
"He's... particular about cards." I chose my words precisely, revealing just enough. "His initials spell A.C.E. Named the company headquarters Spade Tower. Every major decision follows consulting his deck."
"Superstitious?" Shaw sounded amused. "That seems unlike the ruthless strategist I've studied."
"Not superstition," I corrected, that odd defensiveness rising despite my role. "Respect. For the game that shaped him. The loss that made him who he is."
Shaw leaned back, his smile turning cruel.
"Ah yes. The famous story. The bullet that should have killed him hit his precious playing card instead.
" He laughed, a cold sound. "The Ace of Spades that supposedly saved Algerone Caisse-Etremont's life.
I've heard the legend. He still carries it, doesn't he? That damaged card?"
My jaw tightened before I could stop it. Shaw had done his research. Too much research.
"He keeps it close," I admitted, the words bitter on my tongue.
"A man who builds his entire identity around a near-death experience and a lucky piece of cardstock.
" Shaw shook his head, still smiling. "It's almost sad, really.
All that brilliance, all that ruthlessness, and underneath it all he's just a gambler clutching his rabbit's foot.
Tell me, Maxime, does he kiss the card before important meetings?
Does he sleep with it under his pillow?"
In the window's reflection, Algerone had gone absolutely still. Not the stillness of control but the stillness of a man restraining himself from violence.
"The card saved his life," I said, my voice hard. "Whatever meaning he assigns to it—"
"The card got lucky," Shaw cut me off. "One random inch to the left and your precious employer would have been dead in that warehouse decades ago.
And Lucky Losers wouldn't exist. Neither would your career, your purpose, your entire identity wrapped up in serving him.
" His eyes glittered. "Have you ever thought about that, Maxime?
How your whole life depends on one piece of paper being in the right pocket at the right moment? "
Every word sliced. Not because they insulted Algerone, but because Shaw spoke a truth I'd buried for years. If the bullet had landed differently, if the card hadn't been there...
"The past is the past," I managed. "What matters is the future."
"On that, we agree." Shaw's cruel smile softened into something more calculated. "But I wonder if a man so fixated on a lucky card can truly adapt to changing markets. Superstition and strategy rarely coexist well. And you?" he challenged. "Do you share his reverence for cards?"
"I share his results," I deflected. "Lucky Losers has never failed to complete a contract. The name might sound foolish, but the reputation speaks for itself."
"Still," Shaw mused, "I'd rebrand immediately. GidTech sounds like a company. Lucky Losers sounds like a poker game in a backroom bar. And naming your entire enterprise after a card that stopped a bullet?" He chuckled. "It's the corporate equivalent of a grown man carrying a security blanket."
The insult to Algerone's careful symbology tightened my jaw, but I forced a small laugh. "Perhaps you're right. Another example of his... inflexibility."
Shaw leaned back, apparently satisfied with my criticism.
"A man who can't adapt his image can't adapt his business.
But let's discuss more practical matters.
" His eyes sharpened. "What are you prepared to offer for this new partnership?
A man in your position must have access to interesting information. "
I pretended to consider, building tension. The intensity of Algerone’s gaze burned, and my cock leaked against my briefs. My hand moved involuntarily toward my lap before I caught myself. Instead, I gripped the desk edge hard enough to hurt.
But my voice remained steady, professional. "Information serves as currency in our world, Gideon. The question is whether you're offering an equal exchange or expecting charity."
"Always the negotiator," Shaw chuckled. "What would you consider equal?"
"Recent events suggest certain... capabilities," I said carefully. "That level of precision, of execution... it's impressive."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to." Shaw's smile never wavered.
The denial sounded smooth, practiced. Of course he wouldn't admit anything on an unsecured line.
"Hypothetically," I continued, matching his careful tone, "such capabilities would suggest inside knowledge. The kind of intelligence that takes years to develop."
"Hypothetically," Shaw agreed, "good intelligence forms the foundation of any successful operation. But we're speaking in the abstract. What matters is the future, not the past."
His poker face worked well, but not perfectly. I noticed the slight tightening around his eyes.
"If someone were to change allegiances," I said directly, "they'd want assurance that their new employer could protect them from... repercussions. Algerone maintains a long memory and a longer reach."
"I protect my assets," Shaw said carefully. "All of them."
"Then we should discuss specifics," I suggested. "In person. Where we can speak... freely."
"Agreed. But first, I need something concrete. A gesture of good faith." Shaw's eyes gleamed. "What are you willing to bring to the table? Information that proves you're serious about leaving Lucky Losers."
I pretended to consider his request. "What kind of information?"
"Something useful. Something that demonstrates your access and your commitment."
"Employee satisfaction metrics," I said finally. "Compensation structures. Perhaps some insight into our recent contract negotiations. Nothing operational, just... administrative details that might interest a competitor."
Shaw's smile conveyed pure satisfaction. "Reasonable. Very reasonable. But I'll need more than information, Maxime. I'll need to see you in person. Judge your... sincerity."
"When and where?"
"Tonight. There's a private club I maintain here in Zurich. Discrete. Luxurious. The kind of place where new partnerships can be properly... celebrated."
"Send me the details," I agreed, ignoring my clenching stomach. "I'll be there."
"Excellent. Oh, and Maxime? Wear something... accessible. You never know where the evening might lead."
I raised one eyebrow slightly, a gesture perfected in a thousand boardrooms. "I'll dress appropriately for a business discussion. Anything else would be... premature."
His smile widened at the challenge. "Of course. Until tonight, then."
The call ended. The screen went black.
For a moment, neither of us moved. I sat frozen at the desk, knowing he remained against the wall, knowing he'd heard every word. The silence stretched between us like a held breath.