Chapter 19

19

Lyric

I t’s been quiet for the past few days. On the outside, anyway.

On the inside, however, a storm has been raging. Thousands of thoughts blowing through, crackling and clapping, making it impossible for me to focus on pretty much anything.

I need to pull myself together. I finally made it to my interview with Jack Bowman after several instances of rescheduling in the span of a week. I’m nervous and terrified for multiple reasons, but I need to go through with this in order to maintain appearances.

“He’ll be ready for you in a minute,” his PA tells me as she comes out of his office.

I give her a slight nod. “Thank you.”

Glancing around, I see the man spared no expense to make his HQ as sleek and as luxurious as possible. I recognize the Italian lights and the Tuscan, handmade furniture—it must’ve cost him a fortune. And to think he started out as a government employee, putting white collar criminals away. Now, the guy turns billions over like it’s just another walk in the park.

He lives and breathes money, which is why I’m interviewing him for my doctorate thesis in the first place.

But knowing what I know now, I see him in a much different light than I did when I had the original interview planned.

I don’t admire him; there’s nothing admirable about a man who is at the top of a pyramid built on schemes, corruption, and bribery. There’s nothing admirable about a man who played the victim and manipulated the media to wage a war against the Sokolov’s, just as they’re working to turn their Bratva businesses legit.

He’s a monster. I need to be careful and approach him as such, no matter how successful or how charming he might be.

Oh, God, I want to puke.

Today’s bout of morning sickness has been more acute than usual. My OB-GYN said it’s because of my high stress levels. Unfortunately, I don’t see them coming down anytime in the near future.

“Lyric!” Bowman exclaims as he steps out of his office with a broad smile. “I’m so glad we’re finally able to do this interview!”

“Mr. Bowman,” I greet him, getting up from my seat.

He reaches out to shake my hand. “Please, call me Jack. Come in.”

I follow him into his office and he closes the door behind us, my heart thudding as I cautiously approach the guest sofa. He takes a seat next to it, then gingerly proceeds to pour a cup of tea for me. “Thank you,” I say and help myself to a tentative sip.

“Given that it’s raining cats and dogs out there, I figured you’d enjoy a smidge of ginger and lemon,” he chuckles softly, then leans back into his chair, ever so smug.

It pisses me off. Why can’t he actually be the good guy that he’s been pretending to be? Instead, he’s a human farce, a monster, pulling the strings of others for profit and influence. I actually thought he wanted to make a difference in the world, only to learn that his entire business profile was built on lies.

I’ll have to amend my algorithm accordingly, which means another month of data input before I’m able to extract realistic scenarios for my thesis.

“I’m glad we were finally able to do this,” I say, struggling to smile. “When I heard about what happened to you, with the kidnapping and all—”

“Oh, terrible thing, I know. But I’m bouncing back. How’s your dad? I haven’t spoken to him in a few days now.”

“Busy with his campaign. I reckon you talk to him more than I do, actually.”

“He’s going to be president someday. You know that, right?”

God, I hope not. I hope the truth comes out. I hope there is some justice left in this world, because I don’t want this baby to be part of a future where the evil hide in plain sight, corrupting innocent souls purely for the love of money and influence. It sickens me to even think about it.

Instead of an answer, I change the subject. “Have you had a chance to look over the preparatory emails I sent by any chance?”

“Yes, I did. I’m ready. Hit me,” he laughs, then runs a hand through his hair, fine lines sharpening at the corners of his tired eyes. “I’m eager to answer and help you put together one hell of a doctorate thesis. Assuming, of course, that you will give me a chance to test that algorithm of yours when it gets to the next stage of research.”

“It would be my pleasure.” I lie. If he’s not rotting in a jail cell by then.

He smiles and nods delightedly. “When do you think you’ll be ready for the first round of trials?”

“Hopefully, next year, if I get my desk at University of Chicago. Their research department is at the forefront of this—”

“You won’t have to worry about that. I’ll make a few calls—” he tries to cut me off.

“Jack, please don’t,” I politely stop him. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told my father, I’d rather get there on my own. On proper merit. It’s the right way, especially for an algorithm that may reshape the future altogether. I need to make sure I’m worthy of it, if that makes sense.”

Jack pauses for a moment, tilting his head slightly as he carefully analyzes my expression. “I must admit Lyric, I am genuinely impressed by you already.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re a beautiful young woman, first and foremost.”

“Thank you.”

“You are obviously brilliant. Your IQ and Mensa membership speak volumes on the matter. Your father speaks highly of you, despite what he described as a complicated father-daughter relationship in the absence of your mother.”

He’s going for the feels now. Hitting me where he knows it might sting a little. Luckily, I saw this coming. I spent the past few days running different scenarios through the algorithm regarding this meeting and its potential outcomes, just to practice a few more volatile parameters. I wonder how many of the results I got will turn out to be accurate.

I nod slowly. “Yes, well, politics and I never got along.”

“Nor should you,” Jack says. “Unlike your father, I think you need to remain non-partisan. You’re a scientist, Lyric. I don’t believe you belong anywhere near politics. The same can be said about your algorithm, despite what Matthew says.”

“I’m surprised you think that way.”

“Well, I’ve met my fair share of politicians, and while I love and support your father, your technology is crucial in other aspects of life. It shouldn’t serve as a tool for congressmen and senators to win elections and get more donations for future campaigns. The whole political machine is precisely that, a never-ending cycle of pumping money into advertising. Matthew can handle himself fine, he doesn’t need your algorithm.”

I give him a wry smile. “I’m pleased to see how much faith you have in him.” I’m getting better at lying.

“And I have just as much faith in you, Lyric. Which is why I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad that we’re able to have this conversation, and most importantly, I’m glad you ended it with the Sokolov’s. They were a terrible influence on you.”

The words whizz past me and I barely register them.

Yet when I do, my entire world comes crashing down around me. I freeze in my seat, staring at Bowman in disbelief. I shouldn’t be shocked. Of course he knows about my involvement with the Sokolov’s. He’s the head of the snake that Max, Ivan, and Artur have been working so hard to cut off. Smith is his henchman. My own father is his crony.

Bowman most likely knows about me and my connection to the Sokolov’s because I posted Ivan’s bail. Once I did that, I was fair game for these monsters.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he tries to reassure me, though I can tell he is subtly pleased by my reaction. “I understand. Some men can be charming. They can entice you and use you as they see fit,” he says. “But I’m glad your wisdom prevailed and you ended it.”

“I’m not sure what it is you think I ended with them, though.”

“Whatever it was, it’s none of my business,” Bowman replies. “I just want them as far away from you and your father as possible. Don’t forget, they kidnapped me. They held me hostage for days.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know for sure it was them?”

His lips twist into an arrogant smirk. “You may be a genius Lyric, but I’m pretty high up on the IQ scale as well, if you remember.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend you.” I sense the need to tread carefully here.

“You need to understand something, Lyric, and I’m glad we have the opportunity to talk about this now. The Sokolov’s are going down for a multitude of reasons. Their expectations of the future are unrealistic. You can’t polish a turd and call it gold, and that is precisely what they’re trying to do. The Bratva serves its purpose as is, the same purpose for over a hundred years.

“The mere fact that they think they can push it into a different, more legitimate direction isn’t just a wild dream, it’s pure delusion. The Sokolov’s are fighting a system designed by their fathers and grandfathers. They’re fighting a system designed by my father and grandfather. They will never succeed.”

“You give them little credit,” I say. “According to my algorithm…”

I pause as Bowman bursts into a bout of copious laughter. “You ran them through your algorithm? You sweet, naive child.”

“I’m not sure I understand what’s funny here.”

I’m also not sure how much longer I can keep this fake pleasantry up. Bowman clearly isn’t interested in partaking in an actual interview with me. He’s more interested in showboating and teasing me about the Sokolov’s. There’s a play here, and it seems that I am meant to be one of his pawns, which makes me wonder what his endgame is, at least where I’m concerned.

He knows I’m not seeing Max, Ivan, and Artur anymore, regardless of the nature of our dynamic. It’s his way of telling me he stays informed about his enemies.

“Okay, let me try to put things in perspective for you,” Bowman says. “You’re a brilliant woman, a mastermind about to change history in many ways. Your father is a good man and a sharp, promising politician. Yet somehow, you managed to get involved with the Bratva and have seen more law enforcement in a month than most people do their whole lives. Is this how you wish to fail, Lyric? By associating yourself with the worst of the worst?”

“Jack, forgive me, but I had a business relationship with the Sokolov’s. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Let’s assume I believe that” he replies dryly, “and that you weren’t getting in deep with them. It’s beside the point, anyway. Even a business relationship could spell doom for your academic career. They’re toxic, they’re dangerous, they’re the scourge of our society, and I will do everything in my power to take them, and all of their associates out for good. I’ve got your father’s support in this, along with the Bureau.”

“Is that what you’re determined to do?” I ask, my tone flat. I’m getting kind of tired of hearing the same crap, over and over again. “Or are you just determined to make sure they stay in their lane and do nothing about a system that has brought you colossal profits and influence?”

“I’m offended.”

“ I’m offended by the amount of self-righteous bullshit that you and my father and Director Smith keep trying to feed me. You all shower me with compliments, saying that I’m so intelligent, that nothing gets past me, yet all I hear coming out of your mouths are layers upon layers of shameless lies. I must really look stupid to you.” I pause, giving Bowman a moment to blink and gather his thoughts. “Why did you call me here today? It obviously wasn’t for an actual interview. You couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my thesis. You know damn well that I can finish my dissertation without any of your precious quotes.”

“There she is,” Bowman chuckles, increasingly satisfied with my reaction. “The kitty does have claws. Smith was right about you.”

“I just want to be left alone.”

“And that is precisely what I called you in for, my apologies for the slight deception,” he says. “I wanted to make sure that you are, indeed, done with them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re about to get wiped off the face of the earth and I promised your father that I would at least try to keep you out of it. You can’t stop what’s coming, Lyric. You can’t change a world that has no interest in being changed. Personally, I doubt your algorithm will get anywhere, because no one really wants things to be different. If they did, the streets would be burning, day in and day out. The whole planet would rebel. Nations would unite. But nobody wants that utopia that you and the Sokolov’s envision.”

“ You don’t want it. You and those who profit from the chaos.”

He smiles broadly. The sheer sight of him makes me sick to my stomach. “Consider this your only warning. I sure hope you’re truly done with the Sokolov’s, Lyric. Because you don’t want to be anywhere near them when we go after them. The Bratva as a whole will remain as it is, serving the same purpose as always, until they are deemed useless.

“If you don’t keep your distance, you will find yourself engulfed in something neither I, nor your father, will be able to save you from. Matthew may not be Father of the Year, but he does love you. I’d like him to get the opportunity to see you grow old.”

Slowly, I grab my bag and get up, only to realize that my knees have gotten weak. “Will that be all?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

“Send me those interview questions in an email and I’ll reply with some nice quotes for your paper. Let’s keep it civil until the end, shall we?”

I simply nod.

He watches, still smiling, as I walk out of his office. I glide past the PA, barely mumbling a goodbye as I head straight for the elevator. By the time I’m downstairs I’m virtually running out of Bowman’s building. My heart is thudding and my breath comes quick as the world spins all around me.

Having lost control over my senses, I shudder and stop for a moment, waiting for a semblance of clarity to return. Whatever it is they’re planning against the Sokolov’s, it’s going to happen soon. I broke it off with them because I need this baby of mine to be protected, but I did promise to help them from afar and I intend to keep that promise. I’ve already supplied them with all the information I had about my father, and I still have some scenarios running through the algorithm. I need to speed that process up and start looking deeper into it.

Bowman thinks he’s got me figured out. He also thinks that he cannot be stopped. It’s precisely this level of over-confidence that caused greater men throughout history to fall. Empires have crumbled on account of a leader’s obtuse vision. Bowman isn’t some fresh-minded entrepreneur.

No, he’s just more of the same, simply wrapped up in a different style and color.