Convergence - The Last Science #2.2 - Heroes and Villains

Interlude IX - Magnanimity of the Modern Man - II

  When Viper got to Malton's office, he was stopped just outside the door by Malton's personal assistant. He'd never been stopped going into Malton's office before. The diminutive woman—with thick spectacles and a pen always stuck in her hair—actually stood right in his way. She was probably less than half his weight, and he had a good six inches on her at least, but she didn't budge an inch.

  "Mr. Malton is on a very important phone call right now."

  "Lady, do you know who I am?" he growled. He was feeling really impatient, given the news developments while they'd been in-flight. "He's gonna want to see me."

  "He was quite specific, sir. No interruptions."

  "I'm not a damn interruption."

  Still, the woman refused to let him by, and the doors were tightly sealed unless she pressed the button to allow him through. Viper could have just leaned over and pressed it himself, but it became moot a second later as the doors swung wide.

  Three suits left the office, none of whom Viper recognized. One shot him a curious look, which wasn't too surprising. Viper never did fit into boardrooms whenever Malton dragged him to one. It was rare, but sometimes Malton had to account for some of the larger expenditures required by the Malton Solutions private contract service. Bringing Viper into the boardroom to silently intimidate the more obstinate board members was just the easiest way out.

  She said he was on a phone call though. Who the fuck were those guys?

  "You may go in now," the assistant added, way too smug for her own good. Viper resisted the urge to flip her off as he went in.

  Cornelius Ferdinand Anastasia Malton stood behind his desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. He always stood. His desk didn't have a single chair behind it, and the only one in the whole room was stuffed in the corner, as a courtesy for guests who didn't have the constitution to stay standing for longer meetings. It was all part of his image—the youthful, athletic CEO that exuded health and competence.

  He'd deliberately sold himself as the opposite of Thomas Laushire in many ways. Laushire was nearly twice his age, at fifty-six to Malton's thirty-one. Malton was an active, aggressive executive that forced himself into the public eye time and again (partly to ensure the board could never truly get rid of him if they wanted to), while Laushire preferred to act the aloof master above such trivial concerns. Even down to appearance, they were starkly different—Laushire was a bit overweight, sporting the iconic mop of fiery red hair that he shared with his daughter, while Malton was in his prime in every form, and kept his dark brown hair trimmed so close he might as well have been bald.

  When Malton looked up, Viper felt unsettled. Not that he thought the man could ever beat him in a fight—even without magic, Viper had nearly a decade of real combat experience, while the closest Malton had ever been to a fight was a bar when they'd both just turned twenty-one. No, Malton was intimidating because Viper knew what he was capable of. While Viper kept to a code, one drummed into him in the military which he'd adapted to fit his new life, Malton was unpredictable. It was a quality that helped him dominate the business market, as his seemingly risky ventures became goldmines of profit.

  At the same time, it meant he could be utterly ruthless when the time came, and Viper could never tell when that time was coming. Without Rook at his side, he felt distinctly unsettled. It hadn't always been that way. Once upon a time, Malton and Viper—Corny and Stefen, as they were known in every pub from Southampton to Edinburgh—were closer than brothers.

  Those days were long gone by.

  "So." Malton said, setting down his phone on the desk. The room was uncomfortably silent, another common tactic he used to unsettle negotiations.

  "Who were the suits?" Viper asked, trying to get ahold of the conversation before they really got into it.

  "Lawyers. It seems Thomas has decided to lodge an inquiry into my international dealings in the colonies. Something about trade agreements and tariffs." Malton shook his head. "It's all rubbish, but Thomas is grasping at every straw he can find. It won't slow us in the slightest."

  "Why, though? Ain't he Europe-based?"

  "An excellent question," Malton said, digging through a stack of papers. He pulled out a sheet and set it on top, and Viper leaned in to read it. Something about permit regulations and failure to follow procedure—bureaucratic shit that reminded Viper why he'd never get anywhere in business. "Thomas doesn't have a single quid in the entire region. I had Research check it three times, and our other sources concur. Nor is he angling to make any investments in the area. He's up to something."

  "Like what?"

  "This Wilmore person. If they even exist." Malton started pacing behind his desk. Normally, he was able to stand stock-still as long as he needed to, with infinite patience to wear down stubborn opponents, but he'd never bothered around Viper. He let his true feelings show. It was one of the main reasons Viper still trusted his old friend. "They've been gobbling up capital and firms left and right in the West, particularly around the Pacific Northwest region. Almost like they knew what we did."

  Viper paused. "You still don't have a clue who Wilmore is?"

  "Whoever they are, they're smart. Playing businesses off each other and striking killer deals, and all without showing their face once. I'm impressed. They're a shadow without any sort of history behind them."

  "And now they're workin' with Laushire?"

  "Not on paper. Not even in rumor. I'd stake my company on it though."

  "'Course you would, you're insane."

  Malton smiled. "Thomas is making a play to control magic, and I've already got it in my pocket."

  "Speakin' of which..." Viper glanced over his shoulder, even though they were alone in one of the most secure private offices in the country. "Got something for the lab."

  Malton's smile grew wider, and Viper still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Fuckin' hell, Tess... Where are you when I need you?