Chapter 1
Christian
“What a fucking incredible day.” Brandon stood with his hands wrapped around the railing, enjoying the sea spray as I circled the perfect location, slowing the boat to anchor. “God, I love this part of the country.”
I cut the engine, allowing the boat to drift softly and slowly in the slightly turbulent water. We were several miles off the coast in a pristine location where larger fish and other sea creatures thrived.
The water was slightly murky from the night’s storm, yet it was a perfect fishing day.
Depending on what kind of marine life you preferred.
I preferred mine skewered and ripped apart.
With a deep breath, I left the captain’s chair, grabbing my glass and heading toward the stern.
The Scout 420 was a recent purchase, the luxurious fishing boat easy to operate, sporting an air-conditioned cabin with all the amenities.
I was no stranger to playing captain, taking the helm of my father’s boat when I was nine. Another rite of passage, another test that his two children had been required to pass.
The reason?
One never knew when a boat would become the perfect business tool. What executive didn’t enjoy spending a day on the open sea, provided with every luxury available? They usually let their guards down, feeling safe on the open water.
Little did they understand the dangers hiding just below the surface.
Not that I gave a shit. He’d made his choice, which of course had been the wrong one. Time to experience the consequences.
Most would say my friend and trusted employee Brandon Marks deserved all the perks of working for me for over ten years.
True, at least until recently. He’d been hired by my father, his expertise in keeping our massive high-end computer systems operational well worth his salary and perks.
So I’d flown him to South Carolina on my jet, a reward for all his hard work.
I had a boat secured in the Isle of Palms, a place I liked to escape to whenever possible.
I liked to think of myself as a generous person, always searching for ways to improve my leadership position.
This was one of them. Besides, the poor man had no family, Tempest International considered his home more than the modest three-bedroom Victorian he owned in the heart of downtown St. Louis.
He lived frugally, keeping the money earned in safe stocks and bonds.
From what I’d been able to decipher, his only luxury was a classic 1965 Ford Mustang Shelby GT.
He considered it his baby, driving it approximately ten miles every week, keeping it under tight climate control with heavy security, babying it will all the love and attention required for such an impressive investment.
Plus, he enjoyed a decent scotch even on warm, humid days.
So did I.
Case in point. I moved toward him with the bottle of Macallan in hand. “There is nothing as exquisite as watching the sun rise over the ocean on a beautiful sunny June day.” My words were met with a series of nods as he continued staring across the horizon.
“We’re very lucky to call Louisville our home, but this is a taste of paradise.”
Was he trying to convince me?
He finally realized I was standing right beside him and held out his glass. Yet in doing so and being so close, I noticed a single twitch in the corner of his mouth.
By traditional standards, the nervous gesture wouldn’t mean a single thing other than maybe tension from a difficult night’s sleep or anxiety about an occurrence in his personal life.
Except I’d flown him first class, allowing him to enjoy lobster and steak and other delicacies on the plane.
Only I knew exactly what he was experiencing, the heightened level of tension that had already furrowed inside his mind like a flesh-eating worm. Soon it would manifest in sweat across the back of his neck and perhaps on his upper lip.
But then, his armpits would be stained, his stench of fear capable of rivaling the heavy salt of the ocean.
I certainly wasn’t doing anything to drive his level of anxiety to the breaking point. There was no need. In fact, I liked to think of myself as a consummate host.
“Yes, we are,” I agreed before returning the bottle to the cooler. “This is the perfect fishing spot as well.”
“Oh, yeah?” He twisted his head as I sat down on one of the upholstered benches, crossing one leg over the over.
“It’s been a long time since I went fishing.
” His laugh was wrapped around a memory.
I studied his facial expressions as his mind shifted gears, moving through time until he secured the perfect series of images.
“Your father?”
He half chuckled. “My dad was a son of a bitch, but when he was out on the ocean, he was entirely different. For a few hours, he was the greatest dad in the world. The best memories when few exist.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
His shrug was filled with pain, which could under some circumstances allow me to feel bad for him.
This wasn’t one of those times. “We can’t pick our families, now can we?
” His hand was trembling just enough that I noticed.
Some might allow themselves to believe the slight action was caused by the swell of waves shifting the boat back and forth.
I knew better.
“No, we cannot.”
“How is your dad since retirement?” His question was laced with true curiosity. Their friendship, much like my relationship with my father had been arguably toxic. My father could easily fly off the handle for the smallest infractions.
My laugh was genuine. Men like Markham Tempest never fully retired. They simply played armchair quarterback when they found it convenient to do so.
“He doesn’t like to sit still. He’s currently somewhere in Malaysia.” I didn’t add with a new girlfriend. I could no longer keep track. A bitter taste formed in my mouth no amount of scotch could disguise.
“That’s what happens when you get older. Tell him I said hello. We had some good times together. He was a tough man, but fair.”
“Yes,” I agreed, although he’d never truly faced the full effect of my father’s rage. “You did. However, you only witnessed one side of him. Not the side where he exacted strict discipline on his two children, treating them as cadets in some unseen army.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “I didn’t know.”
Of course he knew. “Yeah, well, he preferred keeping all the dirty little family secrets locked away. I will say one thing.” I stopped and enjoyed a gulp of scotch.
Smooth yet tangy. A perfect combination for the day and the task I was about to perform.
“His life lessons, while both Kingston and I hated them and the man doling them out, have certainly been helpful over the years.”
“Your father is highly intelligent and certainly had every reason to be proud of his two sons.”
“Yes, he’s highly intelligent. And very astute, which he also passed onto both sons. Grab the fishing rod.”
I leaned back in the seat, lifting my head toward the sun. It was turning out to be a glorious day.
He did as I asked and by his actions, including with baiting the lure, I could tell he’d done this before.
Then he should know what to expect. I would give him credit.
He’d managed to stop two highly intrusive cyber-attacks almost immediately after he’d come on board, which had earned him a hefty bonus.
I’d been working in the accounting department at the time, my father insisting I learn how to spot disruptions in case something of that caliber had ever appeared again.
I’d become fascinated by the skills needed by hackers, studying their successes and failures. Almost always the most significant failures could be traced to one flaw, one single weakness that everyone had buried deep inside and given the right opportunity brought to the surface.
Greed.
With the newer state of the art system installed mere months after, my father had breathed a sigh of relief, able to sleep more easily at night.
That was something I hadn’t gained from my father. I rarely slept.
“I understand there will be a software update at the end of the week.” I swirled the liquid in my glass.
He cast the line and took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Christian. There are no issues, just yearly maintenance.”
“Mmm…” I allowed him to enjoy the moment, including sucking down most of his drink. “Fascinating, Brandon, given an update occurred less than three months ago. I’m curious. Did you find bugs in the system?”
This time he barely glanced in my direction. “I did. Unfortunately, hackers are switching methodologies, becoming much more tenacious.”
“Understood. When I was a kid, I never realized how competitive the hospitality and real estate industries were. I’d thought my father was just in charge of a bunch of fancy hotels.
Little did I know the amount of money and responsibility involved.
Let alone how much power he wielded across the world. ”
“He is still a formidable man.”
I stood, moving closer to the back platform. “You have no idea. Did you know when my father purchased the failing little hospitality company, he did so with retirement savings from his previous career?”
“That I didn’t know. Markham never mentioned what he’d done previously.”
“He was cautious about telling just anyone, keeping his oath of honor to a man even more powerful than himself. It was a very strange transition, done upon the insistence of my mother after my younger brother was born. It took him a few years to make the move, but he honored her request.”
He seemed elated the moment something was snagged on the line and frantically began to reel it in. “What was the career?”