Chapter 38
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
The next day, Thomas wasn’t sure if it was bribery, curiosity, or just a slow news day, but his hard-working publicist Rhonda had managed to get all the Bay Area news outlets there for his grand “press conference”—probably by using the fact that he hadn’t had a press conference in ages as some kind of bait, now that he thought about it.
Frankly, he didn’t see what was fascinating about him personally, but apparently they were slavering for a shot at him like starving dogs staring at a rib-eye steak.
They were set up in the biggest conference room, using the Fiendish logo as a backdrop.
There were TV news crews. There were newspapers from San Francisco down to San Jose.
He was pretty sure they’d let some bloggers in, as well.
And all of them were eager to hear what the big news was, since everyone knew that after he made his first hundred million, he never, ever gave interviews.
His publicist had been dying to pull together a press conference since they’d relocated the headquarters.
And today I’m announcing…that I hired an assistant.
He’d probably come off looking self-indulgent at best, ridiculous at worst. But he was running out of time.
He had Victor in striking distance, his metaphysical consultant was about to quit, and he didn’t have a lot of options.
With thirteen bodies to drop in one year, he wasn’t going to let the only one he knew of get away.
Yagi was confident that Victor might be brutal, was probably an unbelievably strong soul. But he had a weakness, and right now, that weakness looked just like Kate.
Thomas glanced over. Kate had done as instructed, going out to the Fiendish Fashion store and getting outfitted “as befit her new job.” She looked sharp and chic, which wasn’t surprising, since he’d had Yvonne arrange a stylist who had done her hair and makeup, and they’d chosen her outfit.
Kate’s haphazard dark waves were tamed and lacquered into curls, falling in perfect swirls, and her streak of red among the black was perfectly on brand.
She was wearing a snappy black military-inspired jacket with shiny silver buttons, a snowy white shirt, and a black tie.
Her trademark glasses were gone. Her lips were a dark crimson against skin that was a little too pale.
She looks like one of the Men in Black, he thought uncomfortably. She didn’t look like Kate at all.
Then he noticed she also looked scared as hell, which made him even more uncomfortable.
“You holding up okay?” he asked for the fifth time.
“If you ask me that again,” she whispered between her teeth, “I am going to throw up. Possibly on you.”
Now, there was the Kate he knew. “It’ll be over quickly. Like a flu shot.”
“Well, let’s get it over with, then.”
He glanced at the publicist who’d pulled this together, a stick-thin woman with iron-gray hair and a beaming smile. She gave him a thumbs-up.
Showtime, he thought, and then walked up to the black podium.
“Thank you all for coming here today,” he said to the sea of faces in the room.
“Mr. Kestrel! Mr. Kestrel!” People started calling out his name, waving their hands frantically, trying to get his attention.
“Now, now, there will be time for questions at the end, but…” He took a deep breath. “The real star of today’s show is my latest hire. Everyone knows behind every great man is a phenomenal assistant, and for me, that’s Kate O’Hara.”
There was a moment of silence as they digested that. Then camera flashes went off like fireworks. Kate winced a little, a plastic smile hanging on by a thread.
“Why don’t you step up here, Kate? Let them get a look at you?
” Thomas said, gesturing to her. There was a second’s flash in her eyes—why don’t you just screw yourself?
her expression seemed to say—but she walked forward and took her place at his right side.
“Folks, Kate O’Hara is local to the East Bay, which should show just how serious I am about our relocation here.
A CEO’s executive assistant is his right arm, buffer, and guardian.
She’s going to be an invaluable part of my corporate team and one of my most crucial assets here at the new Oakland headquarters. ”
They stared at him, silently, for a long moment. He could read the disbelief in their expressions.
Seriously? You really brought us out all this way…because you hired an assistant?
He stood his ground.
The flashes strobed again, and reporters started yelling questions like crazy.
“That’s the announcement,” Thomas said, holding up his hands. There was a roar of disappointment.
“You can’t just leave them like that,” his publicist said, stopping his retreat. “You were the one who called this. If you don’t control the story, God knows what they’re going to print up.”
He knew the publicist was right, but his true agenda was too important. He needed Kate visible. If she just walked away, the story would still be him. He needed Victor to see her—hale, hearty, and maddeningly unharmed after the attack.
With any luck, it would drive the old man to act rashly.
He stopped Kate’s retreat, guiding her toward the microphones. “Kate will take a few questions,” he said. Then, God help him, he nudged her in front of the microphone.
She shot him one quick poisonous glare before she turned back to the roaring clamor of journalists. “Whoa. Okay, let’s everybody…Come on. Everybody settle down now.”
Pandemonium still reigned for a solid five minutes. In the meantime, Kate stood there, arms crossed, looking bored. “I can stand here all day, guys,” she said, and they finally quieted. She pointed at an earnest young Asian man in the front. “You’re from the Daily Cal?”
“Yes,” he said, with a grin.
“I went to Cal,” she answered, with a grin of her own. “What’s your question?”
“Why is your hiring important?” he asked, his voice breaking on the last word. He cleared his throat as people laughed. “I mean, Thomas Kestrel never has interviews and never does press conferences. What does your hiring mean for Fiendish Enterprises? Why is this important enough for… well, this?”
Kate glanced over at Thomas. “That sounds like a question for my boss,” she said, but he shook his head, ever so slightly. She sighed gustily. “Or not. Right. Okay. I have no idea. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. Next question?”
Thomas saw his publicist’s eyes go frantic.
He realized that he’d wanted to keep Kate in the dark about his plan to use her to taunt Victor out of hiding—and suddenly realized, in the middle of all his other work tasks, he might have considered coming up with a better cover story for this.
It hadn’t crossed Yagi’s mind either, because he hadn’t cared.
All he wanted was her face out. Thomas hadn’t even talked to the publicist, because he couldn’t come up with a cover story.
This is why you need an assistant who actually knows what’s going on, you dork.
The irony was not lost on him. He couldn’t afford to pull bonehead moves like this if he wanted his soul back, for God’s sake. He realized he’d rammed this through quickly because, frankly, he was deliberately putting Kate in danger. It was an excuse, and not a good one.
Yagi was right. He needed to get his shit together. There was no room for emotions. There was a good chance she’d still die after all this.
This is the choice you’re making.
A local news anchor type, all big smile and fashionably cut hair, stood up and waved. Kate called on her. “So, you’re local to the Bay Area?” the woman asked.
“Yes.” Kate nodded.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that Thomas Kestrel, one of the most powerful businessmen in the world, hired you for an assistant?”
“I know, right?” Kate answered vehemently, prompting more laughter. “Totally odd. Next question?”
“Wait, I wasn’t finished,” the woman pressed, her annoyance obvious. “I mean, people with MBAs and impressive resumes would kill to have your job. My research shows that you’ve held—briefly—over fifteen jobs since you graduated from Berkeley eight years ago.”
Thomas saw Kate grip the edge of the podium.
“You’ve also apparently got some sealed criminal records, from when you lived in Southern California,” the woman added.
Thomas winced. How the hell had she gotten ahold of that little tidbit? His investigator had only gotten it as a result of digging and a massive bill. Either he was overpaying the P.I., or this woman had been tipped off.
He got the sense she was a good reporter, but not that good.
Kate’s skin turned a queasy parchment pale, and guilt assailed him. He’d thought the worst thing about this would be setting Kate out as bait. Now, he got to add insult to injury by publicly humiliating her even before putting her life in danger.
Kate closed her eyes for a long minute, then opened them.
“Was there a question in all that?” she finally asked.
The woman’s responding smile was smug. “I’m just wondering why Thomas Kestrel is holding a big press conference for an executive assistant that he seems to have pulled out of the temp pool, with a spotty work history, a criminal record, and no real aptitude for the job at hand.
” She waited a beat, then went for the knock-out punch.
“Especially when his last official assistant was a woman he was planning on marrying…and since he hasn’t permanently filled the position since her death, nine years ago. ”
He physically recoiled. Almost ten years, but of course they’d bring up Elizabeth. And of course, Kate would have to field it, with no prep.
All he was trying to do was dangle a victim in front of a serial killer, so he could whack the guy and get his soul back. Was that really so much to ask?
He’d thought he was giving them a simple puff piece, and here they were, turning it into a character assassination. Kate must hate him. She’d probably break down crying, want to quit, might even come at him swinging. Because he didn’t have enough hysterical women with Ginny around.
Come to think of it, Ginny wasn’t around. She would’ve loved to watch Kate getting flayed in the media.
He hoped this was all going to be worth it. The way his luck was running today, Victor probably didn’t even go on the internet or watch TV, or even read a newspaper.
Could this possibly get any worse?
Kate took a deep breath. Then she crossed her arms, studying the woman intently.
“So what you’re really asking is,” she said slowly, “am I banging my boss because I appear to have no other marketable skills, and he’s got a history of hooking up with his assistants?”
There was a communal gasp, and Thomas felt his heart stop as his hand reflexively went up to cover his face.
Oh, Jesus Christ on a cracker.
Yup. It could definitely get worse.