Part 8 (1/2)
”I'd know that by-”
”And, since I was a teenager, I've been too busy with my career to ever have a real romance.” Faith gazed into his eyes. ”But I think I might finally be ready.” She gave him a determined look. ”Now it's your turn. Tell me something about you.”
”Like what?”
”Like what do you do for fun?”
Typically, he would have sidestepped the question, but he was tempted to answer. Maybe because she was one of those creative types he rarely got to spend any time with but found so compelling, or because he wanted her to be interested in him. At least, tonight. ”The other night I won five grand shooting pool out in Bed-Stuy.”
Faith giggled and waved. ”Sure you did.” you did.”
”Seriously. I'm not too bad.”
”Uh-huh. Where do you play?”
”Places in the Bronx and Brooklyn where there's real talent.”
”Do you take a posse for protection?”
”No. I go by myself.”
Faith shook her head. ”Do you really expect me to believe that?”
”Believe what you want.”
”Give me a break, Christian. Win or lose, you wouldn't make it out of those places alive. Come on, tell me something else. Something I can believe.”
”Something else,” he repeated. ”Like-”
”Like, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
He hesitated, glancing away after a few moments.
”Christian.”
”No, I'm an only child.”
”Oh. Well, how about this? Tell me something you believe in.”
”Something I believe believe in?” in?”
”Yeah. Something that guides your life. A principle.”
Gillette thought for a few seconds. ”Okay, I don't really trust anyone.”
She looked up, the smile on her face disappearing. ”Why?”
”Because sooner or later, everyone will let you down.”
Jose and Alex stood on the deck of Jose's home, gazing through the gloom at the house that would be Alex's.
As instructed, Jose had walked across the lawns separating the homes at nine o'clock this morning and bid $500 thousand dollars-thirty thousand more than the listed price. The professor had laughed callously at the offer, a.s.suming Jose had no way of paying for another house in the neighborhood. So Jose had turned around and walked back home.
Ten minutes later the man was on Jose's doorstep, out of breath. Apologizing profusely for his insolence. He'd called the bank officer Jose had given as a reference and found out that Jose could pay cash.
Alex's chin fell slowly to his chest, and he rubbed his eyes to wipe away the moisture. ”I'm going to be able to give my children a nice home, hermano, hermano,” he whispered. ”I'm going to be able to give them a real chance at life.”
Jose put an arm around his brother's shoulder. ”I know, Al. I say the same thing to myself every day.”
”This is beautiful, Christian.” Faith stood beside Gillette on the balcony of his duplex apartment overlooking Central Park. The lights of the West Side shone brightly in the distance. ”Really.”
”Thanks.”
She turned so she was facing him. ”I had a wonderful time tonight.”
”Good.”
”I want to get to know you better,” she said quietly. She kissed him deeply, then stepped back, slipped off her top, and tossed it over the railing. Allowing him a few seconds to see her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the moonlight, nipples erect in the chilly November night, before putting her arms around his neck and kissing him again. ”I don't want to go home yet.”
”And I don't want you to see Jeremy Cole,” Gillette said firmly.
She moved back again, stepped out of her jeans, and stood before him naked, arms at her sides. ”Okay.”
”Ready, Alpha?” The voice came crackling through the walkie-talkie.
The man hesitated, making certain the sensors were online, making certain the laptops were picking up everything. He checked each screen to make absolutely sure that all of the sensors were transmitting data. He didn't want to have to do this again. For some reason he had a bad feeling about being up here this time.
”Affirmative. Alpha instructs you to blow the load.”
Moments later, the Explorer shuddered as the dynamite detonated.
6.
Allies. As vital in business as in war. Because business is war. As vital in business as in war. Because business is war.
”GOOD MORNING, CHRISTIAN.”
Gillette rose from his chair at the head of the long conference table. He'd been waiting ten minutes. Typically, he would have walked out after five. But not with this man. ”h.e.l.lo, Miles,” he said, nodding respectfully.
Miles Whitman was chief investment officer of North America Guaranty & Life. With more than three trillion in a.s.sets, it was the country's largest insurance company. Whitman had sole authority over a trillion of that, making him one of the most influential people in the financial world. He could make and break Wall Street careers with his decisions, because an investment banker was nothing without a dependable flow of cash-and Whitman controlled the biggest river of all.
For the most part, Whitman invested in liquid securities: bank deposits, federal and state debt obligations, and the stocks and bonds of highly rated public corporations. But, like most insurance companies and other big investors, North America Guaranty-known as ”NAG” in financial circles-allocated a percentage of its portfolio to private equity firms like Everest Capital. To the gunslingers like Christian Gillette who were generating huge returns. Whitman and his staff didn't have the expertise to buy and manage companies themselves, but, like everyone else, they salivated at the profits.
”I see you've adjusted quickly to your new position,” Whitman observed drily, sitting down.
”What do you mean?”