Panthera Spelaea
Puppet Master

We spent a fortnight in Tasmania, enjoying our honeymoon and the isolation. Coming here had worked in terms of getting away from the press in Russia and America. Alexandra went back to Moscow after two days, and Edward wasn’t handling his mate’s absence well. “This sucks,” he said as we all talked at at the swim-up pool bar after dinner. “My cat and I miss the hell out of her.”

“It had to be this way, and you know it,” I said. “Alexandra coming down here to try and get you on her side was to be expected, but the longer she stayed, the more attention she would get. And I’m not talking about just Art, but her Board of Directors and the press too. She has a lot to deal with now.”

“I know.” We stopped talking as Edward’s chef came out with the food, a selection of appetizers on skewers that were easy to eat with wet pool fingers. He poured glasses of Eileen Hardy Chardonnay, which incorporated grapes from Tasmania and the mainland, for us. The pregnant girls had fruit juice. The seafood was fresh and tasty, prepared using local recipes and spices, and the smoked salmon was perfection. “What did your Dad say?” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I was smart enough to know I was an expert in Paleobiology and not business, so I brought my father in on the situation a week ago. He agreed it was about more than just Alexandra’s company, and it was vital for me to understand my share of the company in a larger context. “He said Art is too good to let things or people get out of his control. He is like a chess master, directing the pieces on the board to attack or defend. Some people understand they are under his control while the rest are but don’t realize it." I looked over at my host. "Edward, did you ever question why Art never took a cut of Abrahmov’s blood money?”

“It was my idea, and I split it with you because you were taking the risk.”

“Art’s people were taking huge risks, Edward. A team of his security men got captured and nearly killed. His security chief blew a helicopter out of the sky with two dead men on it, plus an innocent pilot. His people moved our money through his accounts to launder it. Art also attacked Mikhail’s business interests, which couldn’t have been cheap. After all that, he gives away a billion dollars worth of stock to us with no strings attached, PLUS we each got $25 million. How does that make sense if he wants to take over the company or make a lot of money?”

Edward had to think about it, then think about it some more as he ate another jumbo shrimp in a red pepper sauce. Finally, it came to him. “Deniability.”

“Bingo. If too many questions get asked, the answers lead away from him. Instead, they look for why a couple of guys with no experience in the field and no money got a billion in stock from a dead man.”

“And then the guys die mysteriously, leaving the trail cold,” Svetlana said. “The investigation goes nowhere. News stories pop up talking about rampant corruption and bribery involving his company, and rumors of payoffs leading to Mikhail’s ownership.”

“Art swoops in and saves the company, using his reputation and contacts to save the company from the corruption investigations. Meanwhile, Art’s trusted security men take out two or three Switchers, and they get transferred to trusted members of his family,” Anna concluded. “It can’t sit well that as the oldest, richest, and most powerful shifter, he isn’t the undisputed leader of our kind.”

“Dammit.” Edward put his head into his hands. “What about Alexandra? Is she in danger?”

“Of death? Not now, I don’t think. Art wants Mikhail’s legacy destroyed, and she’s all that’s left,” I told him. “I don’t think he will make any moves right away because it would attract more attention to the company. Art takes a long view of things, including revenge. Mikhail’s death and the other Art’s actions have depressed the stock price, and Art is secretly buying up as many shares as he can get.”

“If we don’t sell, Alexandra can keep the company. He can’t possibly get to fifty percent of the stock if we hold firm,” Edward replied.

“What good is stock if it is worthless,” Svetlana retorted. “Art has the money and influence to ruin your life. I’m sure his people by now have dozens of criminal activities that tie back to Mikhail. There is a tipoff to a friendly investigator here, some planted evidence there, and Alexandra gets perp-walked out of her Moscow home. Hell, the charges don’t even have to be true! Look at what happened to John in Moscow if you don’t believe me.” There was no evidence against me, yet I narrowly avoided life in the Russian prison system. “The Russian government rules that the stock transfers to you and John were criminal proceeds, and they nationalize your stock as well as Alexandra’s, leaving your families nothing. Art cuts a deal with some high-level officials and walks away as the majority owner of a company he bought at fire-sale prices.”

Anna reached out and patted Edward’s arm. “We’re in way over our heads, Edward. Art is the master puppeteer, and you are the dummy dangling by his strings. If you do what he wants, you’re a rich man. If you oppose him, he will crush you.”

The magnitude of the stakes hit him at this point. “Is there a way out of this?”

It was a lot to take in; talking through the possible outcomes with my father had been eye-opening. Art had a reputation in the business world that was well-deserved. He played for keeps. “The cleanest thing would be for you and Alexandra to sell and hope that Art leaves you alone,” I said.

Edward looked at the ground and shook her head. “That company means everything to her. She won’t sell.”

“It might be the only way to get Art to back off. Talk to her, and wish me luck,” I replied. “We need to think about the long term. Twenty or thirty years from now, you and Alexandra will have to disappear. She can’t be in the public eye and never age, so she'll have to sell the company anyway.”

“I’ll talk to her. When are you leaving,” Edward asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll need one of your staff to take me to the airport.”

That caught the girl’s attention. Svetlana spoke first. “What about us?”

I looked at Edward. “I need something from you, Edward. I don’t want to know where they are or who they are with, but I need my mates safe. Send them someplace remote and untraceable, whether you go with them or not. I wouldn’t put it past Art to use them as leverage against me. I’ve already asked Dad to take the family on vacation for a week, somewhere remote and unreachable, and not to tell me about it. I can’t risk Art using my family against me.”

“I swear on my life that I will keep your ladies safe,” Edward promised. “I have an idea or two. How do I get in touch with you when it is safe for them to return?”

“I’ll come back and get a room at the Henry James Art Hotel in Hobart,” I replied. “Check for me every weekend, but no earlier than three days from now. If I’m not back in a week, assume the worst.”

The girls did NOT like this plan, but I was firm on this. They were carrying my children, and I wasn’t going to risk my future for anything. My will would pass most of my estate to Svetlana, with Anna getting a lump sum plus generous child support.

It was a tearful goodbye when Edward and I departed. Edward stopped at one place on the way, and I hid the small capsule in the padding of my carry-on backpack. We shared a flight to Sydney before splitting up. He was flying to Moscow after a stopover in Dubai. I was flying to Tel Aviv after a stopover in Singapore.

The flights were long, and I was exhausted when I reached my hotel in the port city of Haifa, Israel. My father had arranged for me to meet with Art in the morning as they cruised offshore. The helicopter would leave in the morning.

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