Chapter 67 “Mr. Tank?” “Yes, David?”
Peter sat in his office and prepared for his meeting with Novotech’s CEO, Gilroy Sprain.
Since the man had specifically requested that the meeting be one-on-one, Peter wanted to be sure he understood as much as possible of exactly what Tank Security was doing for the gigantic pharmaceutical company.
It would look bad if Peter didn’t seem to have a handle on the specifics—even though he really didn’t.
The intercom on Peter’s desk cranked to life, David’s voice interrupting his studying.
“Mr. Tank?”
“Yes, David?”
“There’s a pair of FBI agents in the lobby asking to see you. Should I have the front desk send them up?”
“Alphas?” Peter asked.
“Yes, sir,” David said.
Peter felt his hackles rise. He couldn’t suppress the instinct that any investigation into him or his company was as good as a challenge, but if he actually attacked one of the agents he would be in deep shit, unless he could prove it was provoked.
“Send them up,” Peter said, taking a calming breath. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door.
“Mr. Tank? Agents Burr and Jones are here to see you,” David said, opening the door and letting two alphas in. Peter sized them up as David closed the door behind them.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Peter asked, his body relaxed and his gaze intent. The two agents were dominant, but nothing like him. Agent Burr was older, maybe late forties, while Agent Jones couldn’t be more than thirty.
Agent Jones looked nervous, his shoulders tense and his expression forced, but Agent Burr looked perfectly relaxed.
“Mr. Tank, do you mind if we ask you some questions?” Burr asked, pulling out a notebook. Peter shrugged one shoulder and gave his head a shake.
“Not at all, ask away.”
Agent Jones cleared his throat and drew a breath like he was going to speak, but his senior partner cut him off.
“Are you aware that several members of Biotech Universal’s executive team were recently taken hostage and beaten to within an inch of their lives?”
Peter resisted the impulse to smile. “I did not know that, no,” he said, lying through his teeth.
In fact, Peter had taken great pleasure in watching the video feed of his team teaching the greedy executives a lesson on the importance of respecting proprietary information. His only regret was that he hadn’t been there to take part in the fun.
“So you deny that your firm arranged the kidnappings and assaults on behalf of Novotech Pharmaceuticals?”
The question was asked calmly and without any challenge, and Peter had to respect the alpha’s skill. It couldn’t be easy to walk into the office of an alpha like Peter and accuse him of criminal activity.
“I do,” Peter said, looking over at the younger alpha when he drew a sharp, indignant breath. “Is there something wrong, Agent Jones?”
“No, Mr. Tank. Agent Jones is just a little excitable,” Burr said, shooting his partner a warning glance. Jones looked furious and humiliated, but he didn’t say anything.
“Is there a reason you think my firm was implicated in this attack?” Peter asked, letting just a hint of warning creep into his voice.
He knew that none of his guys had talked, and they had covered their tracks well.
Someone at Novotech might have ratted them out, but Peter had never spelled out exactly what sort of lesson they were going to teach.
“We have our sources,” Agent Jones said, his tone superior. Peter let his mouth split into a slow grin.
“You do, do you?” he asked, licking his lips. Agent Jones was young and attractive, and if Peter weren’t seeing Chad he would have delighted in taking the haughty alpha into his bed.
“Yes.” Jones didn’t say anything more, crossing his arms and glaring at Peter.
He was lucky he had a badge, or Peter would have torn him apart for looking at him like that.
“I doubt that.” Peter’s voice held an edge of menace.
“Well, that was all we wanted to ask. Thank you for your time, Mr. Tank.”
“That’s quite all right. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
Agent Jones wrinkled his nose at that, but he didn’t comment. The two alphas took their leave, and Peter was left feeling confused.
What exactly had the two agents hoped to accomplish? It certainly wasn’t the extraction of a confession. And why give away the fact that they were investigating him?
Peter called his lawyer and relayed the encounter, but the beta didn’t have any ideas what game the FBI was playing either.
“If they suspect you were involved in this crime—which you and I know you weren’t—perhaps they were hoping to rattle you into doing something rash?” he suggested.
“Maybe,” Peter said, not convinced. “We’ll just have to keep an eye out.”
Peter ended the call and leaned back in his chair. Then he glanced at the time, and jumped when he realized that his meeting was starting in just half an hour.
He needed to get going.
***
Peter followed the hostess to the out-of-the-way table where he and Gilroy Sprain could speak without being overheard.
The CEO of Novotech was an older alpha well past his prime, and when he gripped Peter’s hand his palm was sweaty.
“Mr. Tank, it’s good to finally meet you.”
“You too, Mr. Sprain.” Peter smiled and sat down, discreetly wiping his hand on his napkin as he put it in his lap. Their hostess, hovering a foot away, stepped forward and handed him a menu.
“Call me Gilroy,” Sprain said with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Sprain was my father.”
Peter almost winced at the clichéd utterance, but he managed to keep his expression neutral.
“Then call me Peter, please.”
“Your waiter will be right with you,” the hostess said, drawing back. Peter put his menu down on the table, already knowing what he was going to order.
“This is a nice place,” Gilroy said, looking around. Peter followed his gaze, nodding his agreement.
“They do a good steak.”
After the awkward exchange, the waiter showed up to take their order. Peter got the porterhouse steak, rare, and a glass of Cabernet. Gilroy copied his order, and Peter’s opinion of him sank even further.
“So, Mr. Sprain—I’m sorry, Gilroy—what can I do for you?” Peter smiled, taking a sip of his water. “Your secretary made it seem rather urgent.”
Gilroy fidgeted, playing with the napkin next to his plate. He looked at Peter like he wasn’t quite sure what he should say.
“Well, you see… as you’re aware, Biotech Universal is in possession of a substantial amount of Novotech’s research.
Now, despite the recent unfortunate incidents that befell some of their executive team, they’ve still managed to use that research to start producing our product before us.
We planned to use our own factories here in the US, but they’ve sped up the process by using contracted facilities south of the border.
Quite frankly, I need your firm’s help in putting a stop to their production. ”
Peter tilted his head, waiting to see if there was anything more. This was certainly something that he could help with, but he didn’t see why they had to meet face-to-face to arrange it.
“And I need you to assassinate Biotech Universal’s CEO.”
Peter froze, the blurted out words taking him off guard. Gilroy flushed, his face going red, but he didn’t take the words back.
Peter wrinkled his forehead and gave the older alpha a stern look. Something about this just didn’t add up. For a minute he wondered if the FBI was trying to frame him, but they’d have to be colossally stupid to do so right after telling him they were investigating him.
“That seems like a pretty extreme solution,” Peter said at last, and Gilroy’s mouth turned down.
“It’s the only solution. Now I’ve been told that you provide this service, and I am willing to pay whatever it takes. If I were younger I’d challenge him myself, but I’m old and weak and I want him dead.”
Gilroy’s voice was fierce, but something about the way he looked rang false.
“You’ve been told? By whom?” Peter had a reputation for doing this kind of work, but not in the corporate circles Gilroy Sprain was likely to run in.
“What?” Gilroy asked, impatient.
Peter decided to trust his gut.
“I’m wondering who told you that? I’m happy to supply you with any security you might need, but assassination? That’s not something I’d do for anyone but the US government. I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, or someone has played a very nasty trick on you.”
“But… five million dollars, would that do it?” Gilroy’s eyes were intense and a little crazy. Peter shook his head.
“Mr. Sprain, I know that tempers can run high, and I don’t believe for a second that you really want your counterpart at Biotech Universal dead. If I did, I would have to report you to the authorities.”
“So you’re saying no, but if he happens to end up dead and I happen to transfer five million dollars to an offshore account…?”
Peter gave Gilroy a hard look. “Then I would wonder how he died and refund you your money.”
“But I need—”
“You need to grow up,” Peter snapped. “You either challenge him or you don’t, but I won’t be helping you kill him. Is that clear enough for you?”
Gilroy was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. Peter stared him down, not even remotely intimidated.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” Peter asked, squaring his shoulders and pulling up so that he was sitting ramrod straight in his chair.
“I know for a fact that this is something you do. Ten million dollars.” Gilroy put his hands on the table, looking like he was preparing to go into battle. With this level of determination he was better off just fighting the guy himself than trying to make Peter do something he didn’t want to do.
“I. Don’t. Kill. People. For. Money.” Peter enunciated each word, putting his own hands flat on the table and mirroring Gilroy’s stance.
“Fifteen million.” Gilroy stared him straight in the eye.
Peter couldn’t help it. He laughed. Gilroy didn’t have fifteen million dollars to spend, not without approval from his board and certainly not in his personal accounts. Peter didn’t know what he hoped to achieve, but Peter would be damned if he gave in now.
Gilroy, furious at Peter’s mocking laughter, launched himself over the table with more agility than Peter would have given him credit for. Peter watched the alpha sail over the table, and when he was close enough to reach, Peter grabbed him by the neck, spun him on his back and snapped his neck.
Looking down, Gilroy lying on his back with his head hanging off the table at an unnatural angle, Peter wondered why he’d done it. He must have known that Peter wouldn’t let him get away with a full frontal attack. It didn’t make sense.
Sighing, Peter fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the police. He wouldn’t get in trouble—Gilroy had clearly challenged him—but killing the CEO of one of his largest clients was terrible for business.
After he called the police, Peter called his head lawyer and made sure that the legal team was ready for the possible fallout. Hopefully the new CEO would still want to work with him.
“Can I… should I be doing something?” the hostess asked, walking up but keeping a good distance between her and Peter.
“Like what?” Peter asked, frowning.
“I don’t know!” she sounded hysterical, and Peter took pity.
“Maybe call people who have a reservation and let them know that there’s been an incident?” Peter suggested, looking around the restaurant. Everyone but the staff had cleared out, and they all looked like they desperately wanted to leave, too.
The hostess looked relieved to have something to do, and by the time the police arrived she was busy making calls and offering up apologies.
“And what was the nature of your argument?” the beta officer taking Peter’s statement asked after Peter was done explaining things.
Peter was about to answer when he caught sight of something peeking out from between the buttons of Gilroy’s shirt.
He reached down to see what it was, and though it was obvious the officer wanted to stop him, he didn’t.
The thing poking through Gilroy’s shirt was small and black, and when Peter unbuttoned the buttons around it, a small microphone was revealed. It was an old design and nothing anyone at Tank Security would be caught dead using, but still fully functional.
And wireless.
Peter closed the buttons—covering up the mike—and turned to the beta taking his statement.
“It was a business matter. He wanted me to provide a service I wasn’t interested in providing. Was there anything else?”
The beta was still watching Gilroy’s shirt, his eyes wide. He looked at Peter and shook his head, closing his notebook with a snap.
“No, that’s it. You’re free to go.”
Peter nodded and turned around, going into the coatroom himself to get his jacket before heading out and calling his driver.
He needed to get Merchant and Dawn in a room and the three of them needed to figure out what the fuck was going on.
***