Chapter One
Archimedes Athineos was not used to waiting, and today, as the hour of his marriage approached, he was even less inclined to do so.
However, Banks had been clear. If he did not go through with this ridiculous farce of a wedding, Banks would release information to the authorities that would put Archimedes behind bars, and for years.
If Archimedes hated waiting in general, waiting in a jail cell would be infinitely worse, and he didn’t doubt that Banks would and could do exactly as he promised.
Archimedes had, after all, got his own ruthlessness from somewhere, and that somewhere was the man who’d brought him up as a child, along with several other children he’d also fostered.
Banks was a modern-day Fagin, his shabby house in London full of the latest high-tech, the kids he fostered taught how to be elite hackers, stealing money from the rich and giving to the poor—at least, that was what he’d always told them. The poor being him.
Archimedes—arguably Banks’s best pupil—had got out as soon as he’d turned eighteen, and had immediately begun accumulating money by whatever means necessary. Money was power, and since Archimedes had never had any power, that was what he wanted.
These days, money and power were all he had. He was CEO and owner of Ares Security, a huge security company that not only dealt with online security for banks and hospitals, but also for governments and the military.
It had taken him some years to get to this point, and his past was chequered to say the least, but here he was and while waiting in this little church deep in the City of London was the last place he wanted to be, and Banks the last person he wanted to see, he had no choice.
He hated having no choice.
One day he was going to take Banks down, but until he was able to secure the dirt that Banks had on him, he was forced to accede to his foster father’s wishes.
Which apparently included marriage.
Banks hadn’t said who he was marrying—another ‘pleasant’ surprise—only that he must get married and remain with his wife for a year. Oh, and also, a baby would be required.
Archimedes glanced one more time at his two--hundred-thousand-dollar watch, the seconds slipping by, and gritted his teeth.
It was a small, historic and very pretty church, but Archimedes was interested in neither its prettiness nor its historical value.
It was cold, and Banks had yet to appear, and he was not amused.
Archimedes found little amusing except for making money, and since this wasn’t related to money, he was even more impatient than he normally was. Which wasn’t very.
He was just on the point of calling his recalcitrant foster father when the church doors opened and Banks came in.
He was in his customary three-piece suit, his grey hair and beard still as long and as wild as Archimedes remembered, and his weathered face broke into a smile as he saw his erstwhile foster son standing by the altar.
‘Archie,’ he said expansively, coming over to Archimedes, his arms wide in the expectation of a hug.
Archimedes, whose experience of being fostered by Banks was not a happy one, made no move. Instead, he drew himself up to his considerable height and demanded, ‘What is this all about?’
Banks dropped his arms. ‘I haven’t seen you for fifteen years and that’s the first thing you say to me? Not the way I brought you up, lad.’
‘You didn’t bring me up,’ Archimedes said in frigid tones, disliking intensely being called ‘lad’. ‘I brought myself up. Answer the goddamn question.’
Banks’s fake smile vanished, a calculating expression taking its place.
‘So we’re going to play it this way, are we?
Fine. You know what it’s all about. I told you in my email.
I want you to marry the woman of my choice, live with her for a year and conceive a child.
That’s all. A mere bagatelle, dear boy.’
Archimedes hadn’t forgotten his foster father’s tendency to make very complicated things sound easy. Or the punishments he meted out when the complicated thing wasn’t done to his specifications.
Banks was ruthless, hiding his vicious streak behind an easy, fatherly smile. Archimedes did not hide his. His vicious streak was out in the open for everyone to see, as was his ruthlessness.
‘Why?’ he snapped.
Banks waved an airy hand. ‘Oh… I’m getting on in years and I would like a son or daughter to bring up as my own. Also, there’s the little question of my business and who I’d pass it on to.’ He said this as if he was talking about wanting scones with his tea, not about a child.
Archimedes had no desire for children. His own childhood had consisted of being abandoned by his mother, who’d left Greece for London to escape from her violent husband, and then left London to escape from Archimedes.
He’d gone straight into the foster system at the age of five and after being bounced from one home to another, he was then fostered with Banks at seven.
He’d learned how to hack into any computer system by the age of ten, and by twelve was stealing money and information like a professional more than twice his age.
As to marriage, he had no desire for that either. Love was alien to him, and the thought of sharing his worldly goods with another person was anathema.
Still, marrying some woman and giving Banks a child to bring up was better than going to prison.
Archimedes was not in the habit of thinking too deeply about matters that didn’t either interest or concern him, so he didn’t bother thinking too deeply about this one.
He had meetings to get to later in the day, and he wanted this bullshit to be over and done with so he could get on with running his business.
‘You did have children, if you recall,’ he couldn’t help pointing out. ‘Many of them, in fact.’
‘True,’ Banks allowed. ‘But none I brought up as my own. And all of them leave in the end.’ He said this last with a reproving look.
‘Maybe if you’d treated us better, we wouldn’t have left,’ Archimedes said. He’d been Banks’s prize, his golden goose, and Banks had done everything in his power to keep Archimedes from leaving. But he’d failed in the end.
Banks shrugged. ‘Tough love, my boy. It never hurt anyone.’
Archimedes ignored that. ‘I fail to see the need for marriage,’ he said. ‘Or why you want me to be the father of this child.’
‘Because your brain has always been astonishing, Archie, and I want the child to carry the very best genes. As to the marriage, I can hardly have the child born out of wedlock, can I? It has to be legal and all above board.’
Banks’s reasoning didn’t make much sense to Archimedes but, fundamentally, why all of this was required didn’t interest him. He had to do what Banks said regardless of whether it made sense or not, so the why of it didn’t matter.
Archimedes glanced at his watch again, irritated by the passing of time. He’d always been an impatient man—there was too much to do and not enough time to do any of it—but he could wait when it suited him.
It didn’t suit him now.
‘Let’s get on with it.’ He made no attempt to hide his displeasure. ‘I have business to attend to.’
Banks gave him a genial smile. ‘Impatient as ever, lad. Seems you haven’t changed.’
‘Neither have you,’ Archimedes said. ‘You’re the same manipulative, venal bastard you always were.’
Banks inclined his head as if Archimedes had delivered the very finest of compliments. ‘Blackmail was the only way to get what I wanted, alas. And in return—’
‘In return,’ Archimedes interrupted, deciding now was as good a time as any to make his intentions clear, ‘you will give me every piece of incriminating evidence you have on me.’
Banks’s genial expression remained. ‘You’re in no position to make demands.’
But Archimedes did not take kindly to being told what to do. He’d engineered his life specifically so he could be in complete control of it, and that did not include being blackmailed and manipulated by his foster father any more.
However, Banks certainly had dirt on him, and he’d sent Archimedes pictures to prove it.
Lists of IP addresses, money trails, voice recordings of him discussing hacking into various companies.
When Banks had first sent his blackmail email, Archimedes had got in touch with an old contact in the crime underworld to get the evidence off Banks, but the contact was unable to find it.
Banks had hidden it very securely. That all the evidence against Archimedes had been collected when he was only fifteen didn’t matter.
Neither did the fact that his hacking days were over, and his company was all legal and above board.
Even if, by some miracle, the information Banks had on him didn’t result in a jail term, it would certainly do irreparable damage to his company if it got out, and there was no way Archimedes could risk that.
There was no way he could leave that evidence with Banks either.
‘Since you’re the one asking for my biological child, I would say I’m certainly in a position to make demands,’ he said.
‘Legally, you wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if I decided to keep it.
And in the meantime, I’ll be trying everything in my power to get that evidence from you, and I’m sure you’re aware of exactly how much power I have. ’
Banks’s bright blue eyes narrowed, his expression once again turning calculating—the expression that Archimedes was most familiar with. ‘You can try,’ he said, but Archimedes caught the slight hint of uncertainty in his voice.
He’d spent years learning how to exploit weaknesses, both in firewalls and in people, and his ability to be quite ruthless about it had been his main driver for the success of his company. So he had no compunction in exploiting Banks’s now.
‘You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Banks,’ he said flatly. ‘What you want is for me to forget you. So, I ask again. Give me every piece of evidence you have on me, and I will give you the child.’