Chapter 31

Aaron Spencer pridedhimself on his decisiveness. Once he selected a path to follow, he moved swiftly, removing any obstacles in his way. But he was also capable of being honest when faced with an obstacle that proved difficult to budge. It didn't matter what he did: a bomb at CrossBow, one in a mall, one in his car, a sniper attack…. And so far nothing had worked. The man was still walking around, a threat to Spencer's plans.

In order for him to become a truly irresistible force, he needed to remove that damned immovable object—Dr. Josh Malone.

It was time to change the game.

To change the rules.

His personal assistant buzzed him. "Foxton from RD to see you, sir."

"Send him in." Spencer leaned back in his chair. He vaguely recalled Foxton from earlier briefings, a twitchy, nervous man. That was no bad thing.

One should always be wary when standing in front of an apex predator.

Foxton approached the desk, and before he could open his mouth, Spencer launched first. "Report."

"Y-Yes, sir," he stuttered. "We got the toxin to be lethal within fifteen seconds, as you requested. The only problem we're having is that it loses some efficacy when not transferred to the body within ten minutes or so. After that, it essentially becomes nothing more than illness-inducing, but no longer lethal."

Excellent news.

"That won't be a problem," Spencer told him with a smile. "In fact, that fits well within the timeframe. What else?"

He listened as Foxton rattled off facts and figures, all of it good—except for that perpetual thorn in Spencer's side. Malone wasn't dead, and the plan couldn't move forward until he was.

Unless I revamp the whole thing.That wasn't as onerous a task as someone with lesser vision might imagine. Considering the failures and setbacks Spencer had been dealt recently, that might be in his best interest.

That would also be something to discuss with the board, except Spencer didn't plan on a long discussion.

He'd heard enough. He had things to do.

"Thank you. That'll be all."

"Yes, sir." Foxton scurried out of the office.

Spencer got up from his chair and went to the window, gazing at the bustling world below.

We're so close. Too close to let something—or someone—interfere.

He returned to his desk and pushed the intercom button. "Kathy?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do me a favor. Call the board together for this afternoon."

"Of course."

He retook his chair, pulled up a file on his monitor, and opened it. Five faces stared back at him, all of them chosen because they played a part in this grand vision that was a work in progress, if only to let him bounce ideas off them.

And now the end was in sight?

They'd served their purpose.

As soon asSpencer stepped into the meeting room, the noise hit him.

Damn it, why do they always have to argue?

This was why he hated working with others. The vast majority of people had no direction at all. Sure, they had a goal, but couldn't cooperate long enough to make it to the finish line.

He'd suffered enough. Time to put these bickering individuals out of his misery.

Spencer took his seat at the head of the table, and a hush fell upon its occupants. They all had their focus on him as he glanced around the table.

Nicole Lawrence tapped the table with her pen. Once the COO of one of the most respected companies in the world, she'd been shuffled from her job because she refused to listen to her male boss's crazy idea of how to attract more women to their products. After that, she was demoted, until finally she was left with a choice to resign or be fired. She chose to walk away from the job she loved, but it also made her angry enough to listen to Spencer's proposal, the first of the board to do so.

Rami Vitra stared at the varnished surface of the conference table. Another person with untapped potential. There were those who looked at the Indian-American man and saw someone who should be grateful to be in this country, even though his great-grandparents had been here since the early 1900s. His bosses stole every one of Rami's bright ideas, never once giving him the credit due to him.

Facing Rami and Nicole were Ernest Macklin, Tod Nowak, and Dexter Lewis. Someone high up in the company Ernest had founded had deemed him too old to continue working, and he was summarily let go. Todd Nowak had been passed over for promotion time and time again, and when he was ultimately fired for some bullshit reason, he hacked into his company's records to find out the truth. He discovered it was all a setup, went to the police—and ended up being charged for illegally obtaining those files. Dexter Lewis had come to the shores of the US as the child of immigrants, worked hard at school, and built a tech company from the ground up, only to have it snatched from him in a hostile takeover where his opponents had everything sewn up good and tight.

Five people who all had reasons to hate corporate America or Americans in general. Five people who shared Spencer's vision.

Five people who'd finally outlived their usefulness.

"Thank you all for coming," he said. "We'll keep this short." Five heads turned toward him, and he gazed at each of them before continuing. "As you all know, we're close, so very close, to achieving our goal. The only sticking point right now is Josh Malone. Somehow he's been lucky enough to elude us, and that's becoming bothersome."

Nicole blinked. "I don't understand why you're so focused on this man. And I'm not the only one."

Of course she didn't. All of them lacked his foresight and ability to see the bigger picture. "Then let me explain it again." For the last time. "Malone knew about the project before I bought it. He's had the specs for the toxin and knows how it was going to be used. My entire plan hinges on him dying."

"But you still haven't explained why he has to die," Ted retorted. "He's one man, for God's sake."

Spencer fought to suppress his ire. "That's on a need-to-know basis, and right now, none of you need to know."

Nicole arched her eyebrows. Her incredulity didn't escape his notice, but he wasn't about to provide more details to convince her.

After today, it won't matter.

"So why are we here?" Dexter asked.

"Because we're nearing endgame, and there need to be some changes." Spencer stared at them. "Each of you was committed to doing what needed to be done to steer America away from the morass we're currently mired in. Too much infighting, too little cooperation, and it's always American citizens who get caught in the crossfire." He narrowed his gaze. "But each of you has had disappointing results at best. General Porter, for example. He was yours, wasn't he, Ernest?"

"Well, yes," Ernest spluttered. "He did start out doing a good job, although ultimately his own hubris was what brought him down. He hated Cross with a passion and let it leak that he was responsible for killing his own men. That's why he was dealt with in the prison."

"He was a loose cannon, I'll admit." Spencer could be honest about that. Then he locked gazes with Ernest. "But you should have kept on him, forced him to focus on what his part was. His vendetta against Cross ultimately threatened our plan." Another sweeping glare. "Each of you had a part to play, and not one of you lived up to your promised potential." He grimaced. "Each of you was, quite frankly, a disappointment. The only good thing to come out of this? You've shown me proof that only I can be trusted to handle the hard decisions."

Spluttered protestations erupted, but he quashed them with a raised hand. Right on schedule, the vent fans turned off.

Time to leave.

"So I've come to another decision, one that wasn't so hard. I appreciate everything you've done, but as of now, our business is concluded."

He turned and strode briskly from the room. The door closed and locked behind him, and on his phone, he clicked the icon that would seal the room. He stared through the square glass window, watching as they squabbled, their faces reddening, their voices rising. Seconds later the canister hidden behind an oversized planter began to release its contents.

Spencer couldn't claim the idea as original. He'd seen it one night when watching an episode of Doctor Who, a British sci-fi series. Except in that episode, a crazy Prime Minster had gassed his entire cabinet. Even though Spencer had only been seventeen when he'd watched it, he knew he'd try it one day.

What amazed him was how well he'd hidden that fact.

It took only a few seconds for the room's occupants to realize what was happening, but by then, it was too late. They ran to the door, clawing at the glass, their fingers scrabbling on the door's smooth surface, their faces pale, their eyes wild with terror, but there was no escape.

Besides, it was already too late. Less than a minute later, they were all dead, and another one of his problems had been taken care of.

If only Malone could be dealt with that easily.

At least he could carry out the next stage of the plan. A particularly important stage, given the new direction he was about to take. He smiled to himself.

Josh Malone, if you only knew what part you are about to play….

Such pleasant thoughts could wait. There was cleaning up to be done.

Spencer called his personal assistant and told her to contact their disposal team and have them do their job. He also reminded her there was a meeting in the room the next day, so it had to be immaculate.

Kathy huffed. "Did you really think I'd forgotten that?"

No, he hadn't. She was the only one who seemed capable of doing her job. But once the plan was fully realized, she'd still have to go.

Pity. She makes a mean cup of espresso.