CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER
IN PREVIOUS BUSINESS NEGOTIATIONS WHERE the outcome was anything but certain, Nash had sometimes sought to throw a scare into the other side, to get them thinking about things they could not completely control. Well, the time had come for him to do that here.
He opened the exterior door of their apartment.
There was no one there. He walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall, and that was when two men appeared.
They were both around five ten and wiry.
He could see the bumps of the guns in their shoulder holsters as they walked toward him.
He knew if he attempted to leave the floor these twin guards would not allow it.
And he had no interest in fighting that battle, which he would undoubtedly lose.
“I’d like to talk to Ms. Steers,” said Nash.
“What about?” said one.
“It’s for her to hear only. But it’s important. Very important to the reason we’ve been brought here by your boss.”
Nash said this authoritatively and kept eye contact with the man.
“Stay here,” the guard said. He moved away and pulled out his phone.
A minute later he came back and nodded at Nash. “This way.”
He was led into the elevator and up to the top floor of the building.
Steers was waiting for him in a small room.
The walls and floor were dark in color and the light subdued to the point of near blackness.
It was very unsettling at first, but the longer he was there the more calming the surroundings became.
The room had no chairs or other furniture, only tatami mats, and pillows and small colorful balls. The smell of incense tickled his nostrils. The man left him there alone with Steers, who sat in a lotus pose on one of the mats. Her eyes were closed, but she said, “Sit, Mr. Hope.”
Nash sat across from her, his limber joints allowing him to easily duplicate her position.
She opened her eyes, observed this, and said, “You are a practitioner of qigong perhaps?”
“No, but I try to stay flexible. You live longer that way.” He eyed her intently as he said these last words.
“That, of course, remains to be seen,” she shot back. “And what do you want at this late hour?” she said, shutting her eyes once more.
“Just to be clear, I speak for myself, not on behalf of Mr. Temple.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
“I obviously came into this situation late in the game. I don’t have the history with Mr. Temple that you seem to.”
“Agreed. You do not.”
“But he is my employer, and my duty is to keep him safe to the extent that I can.”
“And your point?” she prompted, sounding impatient.
He looked at her long neck and his fingers tensed. He knew her guards were just outside, but Shock had shown him how to do it: prevent the target from calling out, then break the neck at the C1 or C2 vertebra. He edged a bit closer.
“Your point?” she said again, opening her eyes and perhaps, in his mind, noting his slightly closer proximity to her. She called out in what he recognized as Japanese.
A moment later the door opened and the same two men appeared, watching them closely, pistols in hand.
In that moment Nash realized that he had lost the opportunity to kill the woman. But that was the short game. The smart game was bringing her to justice and destroying her empire.
And you have to play it smart, Nash, no matter how much you want to end her life now, to avenge Maggie.
His gaze met hers. “So even if we are successful in rescuing your mother from this prison, you really have no incentive to let us go, or let us live, despite your words to the contrary.”
She stared at him in a way that was deeply unnerving.
But Nash had no time to let this intimidate him.
This was a negotiation, and whether you were haggling over money or property—or your life—the principal framework remained the same: Your position was only as strong as what you could offer in return.
“So?” she said, no longer appearing to be in a meditative mood.
“Well, as you can understand, I’m sure, that matters to me and my boss.”
“Once you stepped on my plane, Mr. Hope, you put yourself under my complete control. You do not strike me as a stupid or rash man, quite the opposite, so surely you know this. There is nothing you can say or do that will influence me one way or the other. I think you came here to negotiate. But one needs at least a single card in their hand to do that.” She eyed his empty ones. “You clearly lack that.”
This next part was tricky, and Nash had to play it to absolute perfection or he might not walk out of this room alive.
“I believe, if you think about it, Ms. Steers, there is a flaw in your plan.”
“Such as?” she demanded sharply.
“We do have some control over the process. And if certain events occur, we will have more still.”
“What events?”
But Nash had already risen from the lotus position and was now staring down at her. It actually felt good to be looking down on the woman who had had his daughter kidnapped and then murdered.
Deep breaths, Nash. Four in, hold for four, four out, hold for four. Repeat. Your chance will come to avenge Maggie.
This was a breathing technique his father had taught him when, as a child, Nash had been riddled with anxiety. The technique almost always worked, and it did at this moment as well.
He said calmly, “It would be foolish on my part, you would agree, if I were to explain in greater detail. Otherwise, you would immediately work to correct this flaw.” He bowed. “I wish you a good night, Ms. Steers.”
He turned and walked to the door, where the two men escorted him back to his apartment. He lay in his bed and stared at that ceiling painted seafoam green, wondering if what he had just done had worked. Or had sealed his and Temple’s deaths.
It might be both. And maybe I’m okay with that so long as Victoria Steers goes down, too. So next time you have the chance to kill her, for God’s sake take it.