34. Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
Francis
Other than a few of the urchins I’d collected from the East Barrett slums, those two kids had to be amongst the easiest delivery I’d ever had.
The boy’s eyes shone with threats for violence the second I tried to grab his foster sister.
Fair enough, it was a sentiment I could understand.
But otherwise, when Jack handed them off to me, they’d gone almost willingly.
The drive back had been long and quiet. They sat together, hand in hand, never speaking.
Meanwhile, I used the long drive to re-think my own plans now that Stephanie had failed, and that fucking punk had gotten the better of me.
That wouldn’t be happening again. Fuck my gun, next time, I’d cut his tattooed throat out in the open where Antoinette could watch me bleed him dry.
Maybe that was the only way. If any one of them survived, she’d never stop trying to get back to them.
After all, she didn’t give up on them the whole time we were running.
She thinks I don’t know about those fucking letters or the sweatshirt she used to hide under her mattress.
I know everything about my property. And that’s what Antoinette is. That’s what she’s meant to be.
Yes, the thought settled comfortably in my mind, I’d go see Father after the drop off, get his approval and then zip back up to Agonde to take out the trash. When their bodies lay in ribbons at her feet, she’d give in. Or her little gang of girlfriends would be next.
It was early evening when we arrived at the port.
The sun was just starting to go down, though there was still the usual activity of boats being loaded and unloaded.
The cranes in their final swings of the day, lifting the metal containers from the shore onto the boats.
Most of them would be filled with products–like, real products–plastic crap that was due to be shipped south or overseas.
But some, a select special few would contain the kind of specialty products only Barrett Holdings could provide.
If you knew what to look for, those containers were easy to spot.
Vents for air at their backs or sides, and specific codes painted on the sides of the boxes.
Codes that shipping agent and port authorities in their various destinations had been bribed to overlook.
It was really easy to check a box or fast track clearance procedures when doing it landed you with enough money to pay off your mortgage, and then some.
Mikhael pulled the car right up to the warehouse doors.
Though most of the crew working in the port were aware of father’s real business, it was still best to be discreet.
Which was also why Rafe was standing just outside, with the warehouse doors shut at his back.
There was the same sick glint on his face that always scared the shit out of me when I was young.
It was his happy face, because he knew what I was bringing with me, and playing with new toys was his absolute favourite pastime.
Once the car was parked, I stepped out first, then ordered the kids, “Out.” The boy helped his sister before getting out, too. I hauled her by the arm over to Rafe. Then grabbed the boy. As I did, he finally looked up at me and spoke, “We won’t be separated, will we?”
His only question. The girl still hadn’t said a damn word. They didn’t ask what was happening, or where they were going, or fuck all else. Just if they would be separated.
They would be. Almost certainly. The girl was exactly the type that never stayed at the warehouse long.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect. The boy, not so much.
He was strong, wirey and I was willing to bet Rafe would keep him.
Throw him the box, break him, torture him, and train him up to be a good little soldier.
Knowing that wouldn’t do him any good now, so I just shrugged and said, “Don’t know, kid. ”
Then, almost as if on cue, one of Rafe’s men slid the door open and the girl was immediately passed over to him so that Rafe could grab the boy.
I saw it the second the boy realized what was happening.
His whole face morphed into something violent.
He opened his mouth before Rafe’s hand could clamp down over it, and roared, “I’LL KILL YOU!
I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER! ”
This was followed by a scream so wild and so loud, that both Rafael and his goon scrambled to get both kids through the metal soundproofed doors as quick as they could.
The last sound I heard was the kid still screaming, “ALI! I’LL FIND YOU!
” Followed quickly by another shout, “I WON’T STOP UNTIL I KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU! ”
I tried to get the sound of his threats out of my head.
The kid was twelve, how terrifying could he be.
But fuck, if his gnashing teeth and that scream didn’t make my skin crawl for a few seconds there.
Once we were on the highway curving back towards Barrett Hills, it was easier to shake that feeling.
My focus entirely on the conversation I needed to have with my father.
Barrett Holdings headquarters was in the heart of the city centre, surrounded by other skyscrapers and condo buildings, but by far the tallest. A modern glass pillar over this town.
When Mikhael dropped me off outside, the setting sun was striking the windows and the overnight security guards were the only people still standing in the lobby.
My father, the executives, and I all had digital key cards that granted us access to the building at any time, so the guards simply waved as I crossed the marble floor to the elevators. They knew exactly where I was headed.
Like the front door, after five o’clock, the elevators required another swipe of my key card to work.
A security measure against any of the more unsavoury elements in our world, the kind that only came out after dark, entering without our knowledge.
A quiet ding signaled my arrival at the executive floor, and the doors opened to an empty atrium.
The only offices on this whole floor were those belonging to board members, and Father’s of course.
All of which had windows overlooking Barrett Hills.
While the skylight in the centre of the room illuminated the circle of desks that occupied the lobby space.
These belonged exclusively to the executive assistants who serviced the board. And I do mean serviced.
Father’s office was the furthest from the atrium.
As CEO, it was also the largest, occupying nearly a whole wall at the back for the building.
During the day, with the low humming of computers and the sound of phones ringing, there was usually a fair amount of noise up here.
Now, every sound echoed in the silence. Later, I was grateful for it, because as I wound my way down the hall, even though I was still a few metres from the door, I could hear my father speaking.
“So glad we could finally meet like this.”
He wasn’t alone. My suspicion confirmed when another man’s voice answered, “Yes, well, I generally try to avoid this part of the country,” his words dripped with disdain, “But I really had no choice, did I?”
“I promise to make it worth your while.”
I snuck closer. Father was making a deal.
I was supposed to be part of the business, learning the business, preparing for the day I would take his place as CEO.
But here he was, making deals I had no idea about.
The closer I got to his door, the slower I moved.
The carpet did a lot to muffle my steps, and because my father insisted on his privacy, his was also the only office with real fucking walls, not just more glass, meaning I could lean on them while I angled my ear as close as possible to the doorframe.
“I’ve been thinking about the future,” my father continued, “About what’s best for Barrett Holdings in the long term.”
“Why am I here, Franklin?”
“Patience Daniel, I’m getting to that. We’ve had a successful partnership, you and I, ever since well… you know. And I think there’s an opportunity for us to bring the two sides of our businesses under one larger umbrella.”
“You’re suggesting a merger?”
A merger. My father was in there negotiating a fucking merger of the company that was supposed to be mine! All mine! Not some fucking stranger’s. My fists clenched, ready to break down these walls one punch at a time before I turned them on my father.
“A merger and a marriage.”
My whole body lit with rage. Before I could stop, my gun was unholstered, in my hands and ready to be fired.
“What about your son?” I stiffened. My anger chilling just enough to stay my hand for now.
“My son is a weapon, sharp and easy to wield against my enemies, but not fit to run Barrett Holdings.”
“And yet, he’s so involved in the business?”
“Yes, well, needs must, as they say,” my father replied, resigned. Like all the work I’d done, every piece of me he’d taken, had been exhausting for him. Not for me. For him.
I could hear him walking across his office.
There was almost certainly a crystal tumbler of scotch in his hand, and his focus was most definitely on the picture he kept of Antoinette–age twelve, maybe–on his bookshelf.
I remembered the day that photo was taken.
He had forced her to pose for it in front of this very building.
“It’s difficult to have such a disappointing child, as you well know. Francis is stupid, but it’s his inability to control himself, to restrain from his most base desires, that is the real liability. If not properly controlled, he risks exposing us all.”
He laughed harshly, “Now, my daughter,” from my angle in the doorframe, I saw him pick up a different, newer photo of my sister and run his thumb along the gilded frame, “That’s where the real value lies. Smart, beautiful, manipulating when she needs to be, and best of all, fragile.”