Death Logs In (24 page)

“Well, for the first time in your life, you’re ahead of your time.”

“It gets better—they think computers will overtake the human mind by 2045.” Now Alex was laughing.

“What do you think?” Michael suddenly felt he was touching Alex’s core. Maybe it was just the incredible software, but he’d been able to get deeper into Alex’s thinking than he’d ever been able to do when Alex was actually with him, say, in Queens.

Alex had frozen again, as he tended to do when the issue appeared to be extremely complicated.

“I think … that Silicon Valley has its
own
limitations. All they can see is what is on the surface. The way everything has been connected on the Internet and in cyberspace—all this information that’s flowing, computers are digesting it all a lot faster than humans. Even the best computer geeks can’t see what’s happening inside all these black boxes. Just like, I said, you can’t see what’s happening inside your brain.”

Michael stared into his brother’s eyes for what seemed like a very long time. Then Alex froze up again. “I think we’re both exhausted,” Michael finally said.

Seconds later, Alex returned. “Computers will overtake the human mind long before 2045.”

From the way Alex emphasized each word, he sensed it wasn’t just an expression but a carefully crafted prediction based upon more than Michael could comprehend.

“OK, back to today,” Alex said. “We have to do something about Sharkey.”

“We have one big advantage over him.”

“What’s that?”

“You—you and your technology.”

Michael closed his laptop.

Chapter 58

New York City

M
ichael could see Samantha watching him closely.

“This is the table that Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor preferred,” he said. “It was also Richard Nixon’s regular table.”

“Maybe we should change tables. None of those stories ended well.” Samantha was serious.

Michael tensed, “We have a lot to talk about”, he said awkwardly. He dreaded these conversations; he knew he’d screwed up badly. Worse, he didn’t have a way out.

It was a subdued yet spirited crowd at Le Perigord; well-dressed and, looking from a distance, it appeared that life had been good to them. The noise level was just right, enough to preserve the privacy of intimate conversations within the boundaries of the table, but not so quiet that you felt isolated.

“A long time ago, I married a good guy, a loving man, someone so different than your brother. You even kept your distance from him. Now, you’ve
become
him—and our relationship is looking like the ones he had with all three of his wives.” Samantha’s tone was stern, yet her eyes were moist.

He felt resigned. Resigned to something that even he couldn’t put his finger on.

“I didn’t even know it was happening. It’s like a midlife crisis, I was bored in my corporate world, and then Alex’s murder, and that whole life opening up. It all came together so fast.”

“I know, Michael. But, it’s turned
our
world upside down. We’ve both been nearly killed. Thank God, Sofia is far away at school or, Lord knows. In just a year—we’ve had enemies, real ones, people that want us dead—Sharkey, Greta Garbone, Rizzo, the Vatican for Christ’s sake, and those guys with all these names, Gump—”

“Lump,” Michael corrected. “He’s dead.”

“Don’t correct me.” Samantha said, now verging on anger. “Of course, he’s dead, Michael, and so are Greta and Rizzo for that matter. Until all this happened, the only people we knew who died were old people who lived their lives in peace, got sick and then, sadly, passed away. Now, it’s like we’re in a shooting gallery.” She paused, looked at Michael, waiting for his reaction, for him to show his feelings.

But Michael was still trying to absorb her words and the ramifications of the new life he had brought to them both. He always felt his reactions—both inside and out—were on a five-second—or five-hour—time delay. That wasn’t always a good thing.

Samantha continued. “The thing is that’s only part of it, and you know it.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, although he knew. He was just trying to buy time, time to think.

“Do you seriously believe that I don’t know what you’ve been doing?”

Michael began to speak, although as he opened his mouth, he was still unsure what words he would utter. After all, Samantha knowing what he was doing could mean many things, beginning with the computer-enhanced Alex, and ending with Sindy Steele. He was saved from the decision as Samantha continued.

“I know affairs when I see them. You were never good at lying. You don’t have the personality or, for that matter, even the short-term memory for it.”

“You’re right. I know. There’s a lot of ground we need to cover or, I guess, recapture. But, I love you. I’ve always loved you and I’ll do whatever it takes to get us back on track.”

Samantha’s face softened somewhat. He was relieved that his words appeared to be the ones she wanted to hear. “Michael, I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s just that things—and maybe
you
—have changed. Changed a lot. It’s going to take a lot of effort—for both of us—to make this work.”

“I’m going to make those changes.” Michael answered, before Samantha had even finished. But I—we—have some short-term problems that I don’t have easy solutions for. More important than anything, I have to get us safe again. Otherwise, the rest is meaningless.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I have a plan. I’m going to put an end to all of this. I need a little more time to work out all the details. You have to trust me. I’ll tell you everything very soon.”

But … how? You have to tell me more than that.”

He wanted to tell her, he ached to tell her—but the plan involved the one person Samantha did not want to hear more about. “Someone’s an integral part of this—and I know you don’t want to hear—”

“Not Sindy Steele—”

“No, let me rephrase it—it involves some very advanced technology that—”

“Oh, God, Michael—”

“OK, how about if you just give me a few weeks and trust that I will get this taken care of. For now, why don’t you go ahead and say what’s on your mind, what’s important to you as we put our lives back together?”

He could read her and he knew he’d gotten a temporary pass.

“First of all, you and I have a partnership. We will be in this together. I am not only your wife but your business partner. I was always an asset to you in your career, in your legitimate, corporate career, at least. I can do the same—and maybe more—for you in Tartarus.”

He was surprised. He’d anticipated that Samantha would want him to give up the business and go back to just running Gibraltar, living the life they lived before Alex was shot.

“Agreed. I could use your help, as long as you can take the pressure, the craziness.”

“Pressure? Craziness? Michael, I was within seconds of drowning at the hands of that madman yesterday. I grabbed his balls for God’s sake. I’ve watched you get kidnapped and then nearly shot by your brother’s nutcase ex-wife. I think I can handle the pressure.”

“You’re right.”

“Next,” Samantha said, “I need a sign-on bonus to commemorate our new partnership.”

“A sign-on bonus?” He looked perplexed.

“Yes, you and I are going to visit Harry Winston and look at a six-figure token of your appreciation.” Samantha had that look that said, ‘don’t even think of changing a comma in the agreement.’ Michael understood. He was happy to be on familiar territory with Samantha again.

“Done. We’ll go tomorrow.”

She smiled. “There’s one more little thing. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Sindy Steele has to go.” As she waited for the impact of her words to sink in, her cell phone rang. She looked at the display, the caller ID read “Sindy Steele.”

Chapter 59

New York City

H
e’d been asked to meet with Richard Perkins at noon at Gibraltar Financial’s Fifth Avenue headquarters but he’d arrived early. Michael rarely visited the building, preferring to meet as much as possible on his own turf, several blocks further downtown.

Looking to kill a few minutes, he went into John Hightower’s office to see if the new budget projections were ready yet. The door was open, but not seeing Hightower, Michael entered anyway and took a seat on the visitor’s side of the desk. It was obvious that Hightower was here, so he decided to wait for a few minutes and make a quick call to Karen.

As he reached across the desk and gripped the telephone, he noticed a typed document nearby. It was his own name on the paper that caught his attention. He looked out through the open door and into the hall, neither Hightower nor his secretary were in sight. He read the document:

We want to thank Michael Nicholas for his years of hard work here at Gibraltar. But, there comes a time for all of us to turn the page. A time for new, fresh leadership. Leadership that looks ahead at our opportunities and not back at our challenges. Perhaps, also, a more worldly view—yet one that is fiscally responsible. And while I will bring a new leadership style to the office, I can assure you that nothing will change. It will be business as usual. Except now, we will have access to more capital and greater resources to generate growth for the organization. So, let us move on and upward. I want to assure you, this has not been a takeover by Cartan—but a merger, a merger of equals. We will retain our independence, our way of operating. We will retain the culture that has made us so successful. But, make no mistake, as we move forward, I will be looking at the best practices of other organizations and, as any prudent business manager would, will be seeking to find ways for us to do more with less, to work smarter as an organization.

Losing track of time, Michael was still staring at the document when he heard Hightower’s voice.

“So now you know. I’m addressing all Gibraltar employees tomorrow morning—right after Richard’s announcement that I’ll be replacing you as CEO.”

“I see you touched all the bases: no changes, merger not takeover, retain our independence. Blah blah blah.”

“Yes, the big lies that employees need—actually
want
—to hear at such times,” Hightower said.

“And that we’ve always been so willing to tell them.”

“You know as well as anyone, they’ll forget them by the time the facts of life became apparent.”

“I’m no saint in this area, but at least I understand when I’m saying something that may be wishful thinking.”

“Yes, and it’s amazing that these people never figure it out, isn’t it? But, that’s the reason Perkins wanted
me
in charge instead of you. You’re too unpredictable. All that corporate culture, values and vision stuff is a waste of time. That’s why you’ll be gone when I give
my
speech … And you thought I could only run spreadsheets.”

“I still do.”

“Perhaps I’d better call Richard now that you’ve seen this.” Hightower dialed his boss’ internal phone extension, but Michael could see there was no answer. This was unusual. Someone would always answer Perkins’ phone, he thought. Yet the phone just kept ringing. Richard’s office was just fifty feet away. Both he and his secretary were in. Odd, he thought, for the phone to just ring off the hook. Unheard of, actually, in the Gibraltar culture.

Hightower then pressed the button on his phone console for his own secretary. Again, the phone just rang. “Come on, Georgia. Answer the damned phone. What’s going on out there?” Hightower turned around and looked out the glass wall of his office and through the white horizontal shades that only partially obstructed the view directly outside his office. Michael turned around in his seat to look out too. No one was there.

“What the hell’s going on? Where is everyone?” Hightower said, appearing almost hysterical.

Michael figured that Hightower was afraid to be alone with him. A thought he relished.

It was then that Michael heard a shuffling noise and the loud voices of men, an indistinct but unfamiliar sound for the hushed halls and offices of Gibraltar Financial’s headquarters. He looked up to find a startling scene: five men, three in suits and two uniformed NYPD officers, entered the office.

Michael’s stomach dropped. What had happened? Was he being busted? Had the feds tapped his phones? Was it something to do with Sindy? … His mind raced through any number of possibilities. All of them bad. Very bad. He’d been set up. That’s why Perkins was nowhere to be found. They had arranged to arrest him here, in front of everyone. And a perfect set up for employees to accept a new CEO.

As they approached him, he stood up from his chair, ready to listen to what he knew was about to destroy his life. He thought of Samantha and Sofia.

But as he did, the men walked right past him—and approached Hightower.

“What is this?” Hightower said, but his voice lacked the tone of offended British snobbery that characterized his earlier remarks. “What are you men doing here?”

The lead agent, a tall, powerful figure with an ill-fitting suit and a collar a half-size too large, came around the desk and stood face to face with Hightower.

“John Hightower, I’m with the FBI, these gentlemen are NYPD. You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit securities fraud and for violation of the Securities and Exchange and Insider Trading Sanctions Act. We’re going to need to put these cuffs on you. Please turn around. You have the right to remain silent, the right to an attorney. Anything you say may be used against you.”

Hightower turned around, placing his arms behind him. The officer quickly clicked the steel handcuffs around his wrists. Michael watched as Hightower looked straight ahead through the glass wall of his office, and saw the peering eyes of all the secretaries as they looked right back at him.

Chapter 60

New York City

S
amantha knew who was calling her.

The ring tone disrupted her study of the glittering selection of earrings as she leaned over the glass display case. Tempted to let the call go, she reluctantly dug her cell phone out of her Chanel bag.