The meeting with the head of Vorschlag Industries had played merry hell with Jeremy’s indigestion. While the film had been rolling he’d been unable to stay in his seat. The tension was too much. While Jeremy had needed to get up and move, his companion seemed content to simply sit and sweat.
Kenneth Irons scared them both. He had an aura, something pervasive that hung in the air, that in a bygone era would have demanded them to kneel and give an oath of fealty. Jeremy was lost in nervous pacing and only caught the last of what Irons had said,
“… You’re here to beg for more crumbs from the table. No?”
Words poured out of Jeremy’s mouth before he had a chance to rein in his tongue, “Beg? Mr Irons, no …”
What happened next terrified him to the core. A smooth voice had spoken where no-one had been standing mere moments before. A tall dark haired man, bearded and dressed in black. Leather gloves covered both hands and he wore an ornate ring on his left hand … a ring over the glove … pretentious git! Jeremy smiled to himself despite the acid-reflux inducing fear that the dark stranger’s arrival had caused.
They eventually had their funding. As Irons left the room Jeremy heard him instruct the dark man to “take control of the Thai operation and see it through to completion, then deal with matters on the home front. I’ll see to Chimera.”
Across the room Bart punched the air, “Yes!”
Jeremy allowed himself to smile for the first time since they’d boarded the plane. Perhaps things might be looking up. His stomach gurgled ominously and Bart looked up.
“You heard that?”
Bart nodded and pulled out his Blackberry.
It felt like hot magma was shifting inside him, an eruption imminent. As Jeremy spun for the door and headed toward the men’s room at a fast walk Bart was speaking in rushed tones on his phone.
“It’s a go. Yes, we’ve secured funding. We just need to secure His blessing, make the necessary preparations - ” there was a pause, “Five days? Perfect.”
Dani lay on her stomach, on a towel, on the desk of the yacht. She’d pulled her long blond hair off her neck, untied the bikini top, all to maximize the tan.
“You need anything” Michael called.
“I’m good.” she answered, sounding more than a little sleepy. “Are we there yet?”
Michael laughed, “Shark point is about 90 minutes East. You have plenty of time to catch some rays.”
“Hmmf.” she answered.
About 15 minutes out, Michael spotted another boat heading in the same direction carrying tourists. He waved and got a cheery response back from them. Both boats made good time and arrived together. He heard the female tour-guide instructing the passengers.
“… the actual size of the reef underwater might be a big surprise to most of you, unless you have been diving out here before. See the rock - that’s Shark Point and beginning there the reef flattens out to the south until it rises towards the surface again about a half kilometre away. You cant see the second rock - it doesn’t break the surface - but depending on the current, it is an excellent place to begin filming. The Zebra sharks - stegastoma varium - you will see here grow to about 2 meters in length. They are reasonably docile unless enraged for some reason …”
He turned his attention back to Dani, who was in the process of turning over, and pursuing more of her all-over tanning regimen.
Cameras, lighting and sound crews had all done a good day’s work and left. Sherman Dudley’s interview was in the can and all was well, except for one small detail. He lounged against the doorpost waiting. Carla Wick appeared and began walking his way, he flashed her his best smile and stood up. When she arrived he stepped in, a little closer than would have been deemed polite, but she didn’t object so he followed through with a hug.
“So, Carla …”
She smiled at him.
“… How does lunch sound. I know the perfect place about 20 minutes from here.”
He offered her his arm and she accepted with a wry grin, “Why, thank you sir. Too kind.”
They exited the building and stopped almost immediately. Leaning against Sherman’s car was an immaculately dressed woman. Her dark suit, crisp white blouse and dark sunglasses screamed “Fed” but she offered them no badge. Her glossy dark hair hung to mid back and stirred in the breeze. Otherwise she seemed unmoved, her face set in a smile that could mean a thousand things.
“Revd. Dudley?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of an Italian accent.
“Yeah, that’s me. Who’s asking?”
The woman extended her hand, “Rosabella Andrews, with the law firm Wolfram and Hart. I must ask you to come with me, we don’t have much time and you will need to be briefed before your court date.”
Sherman looked at her hand and back up to her face. He ignored the handshake, “Court date?”
“Yes. Aquatica: Chimera are pressing charges.”
The Revd. Dudley cussed long, loud and colourfully. Rosabella cocked her head, waited for him to finish. By the time he was finished, several minutes and very few repetitions later, Carla Wick’s retreating form was almost a spec on the horizon.
The lawyer stepped away from his car, “Shall we?”
Carter Blacke’s passengers were subdued on the way back to the marina. They seemed tired and satisfied with their day trip. On the dock a lone figure stood waiting. He looked utterly out of place - most visitors to the Caribbean at least make some concession toward wearing shorts and a cool, loose shirt. Not so this man. His dark suit, crisp white shirt, sunglasses and polished shoes screamed that he was a fish out of water.
Carter swore. Melissa looked concerned, “What did you see? Shark in the water?”
Carter shook his head, “No … far worse?”
She looked at him. She frowned, “What?”
“Lawyer … smells blood in the water.”
He pulled the boat up to its mooring, let the passengers off and stowed the rest of the gear.
“Carter Blake, I presume” a voice said.
“Thats me.”
“Cornelius Mattheson, representing Wolfram and Hart, out of LA. I have papers and a plane ticket here along with a cheque covering three months of operating costs for your company. If you would accompany me, you’ll be needed in court.”
Carter looked up at the lawyer, “Screw you.”
“That wasn’t an offer. If you don’t accompany me, then I will be forced to use other means, and believe me when I say, a man of your checkered past wont want to be near the blast radius when that hits the fan.”
“Court, you say?”
“That’s right. Chimera are pressing charges over your part in the Aquatica disaster.”