CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Stuart’s son Alan Jacobs got off of the elevator in the parking garage of his luxury condo building and headed for his automobile.
But he was on his phone the entire time.
“It’s not what they want. It’s what we want.
And we don’t want any sixty-forty split.
They can forget that shit. We want eighty-twenty with additional terms to be negotiated.
That’s how you sell it. Forget anything else.
We’re willing to invest, but only on our terms. The eighty-twenty split is non-negotiable. ”
He heard car wheels squeal behind him. “Who the fuck is driving that fast in a fucking garage?” he asked out loud as he turned to see just who it could be. Some rich kid with no home training was his first thought.
But when he turned to see for himself, that was when he saw the tinted window of a BMW pressed down and a gun appeared.
As soon as he saw that gun, his heart dropped and he began running to his own vehicle. The shots rang out as he was opening his car door, and although he tried to dive in, it was too late. He was shot repeatedly before he could get inside. And then he slid down to the ground.
And the gun withdrew, the window was pressed back up, and the BMW this time, as if the occupant hadn’t just ambushed a billionaire’s son, very slowly, very casually, drove away.