Gardener: The Roots Of Ancient Evil (13 page)

              On the way home, Tommy got an interesting voice mail from Prieto’s secretary. Said she’d made arrangements for their twelve o’clock meeting the next day in one of the meeting rooms at the Hilton. He called Vivi when he arrived home, and they’d chatted for about forty-five minutes before Tommy decided to call Prieto and ask what exactly was going on. Because of the time difference he got a live person in his office.

              “I need to speak with Prieto about our meeting,” was all Tommy said in a tone that didn’t invite any resistance. He was standing and was surprised by the silent response. Until he heard a barely audible click.

              “Nelson Prieto.”

              “Tom Ricker. Perhaps I missed something. We have a twelve o’clock tomorrow?”

              “Uh, hang on,” he said. Tommy waited. “Oh, I see the misunderstanding. I told my assistant to get the meeting room for the whole afternoon, starting from noon, which is when I would be available. I’m getting into COS Airport at eleven. What time would work best for you?” he asked.

              “That depends. I need to speak with my associate, who’ll be joining us.”
              “I see. Well, let me know what time’s good for you, and then let me know. Just give me a thirty-minute heads-up. Sound good?” he asked cheerfully.

              “Uh, yeah, that’ll work,” Tommy answered. “Wow,” he said out loud in his room, before calling Marco.

              “What happened?” Marco asked.

              “You need to get here tomorrow morning. Hilton lobby. Prieto said he’ll meet whenever we’re ready,” Tommy said.

              “We? What, you got a mouse in your pocket?”

              “Come on, man, I need you there. For backup. Help me tag team this guy and help me find out what he’s all about,” Tommy said, grinning.

              “You do know I’m a busy professional,” Marco said.

              “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Show up by ten, so we can come up with good questions. I’ll pay for your hotel, reimburse you for everything.”

              “Serious?”

              “This guy’s a self-made billionaire coming to talk to me, Marco. I need your help. This one meeting tomorrow could make us both rich,” Tommy explained.

              “Right you are, boss. I’ll see you at ten in the lobby,” Marco said. Tommy immediately called Viviana back and filled her in. Set up a date with her and hopefully Marco the next evening.

              Tommy sat in the lobby at nine thirty, wearing his only suit. He’d decided against wearing a tie. He had one in his briefcase if Marco thought it might help, but the vibe he got from the conversation with Prieto yesterday didn’t indicate formal wear was expected, nor required. He stood and embraced Marco when he entered the lobby.

              “Long time, brother!” Marco said.

              “Yeah, like six months,” Tommy said, chuckling. “You ready to get started?”

              “First show me a picture,” Marco said, hand on his hips.

              “Huh?”

              “Your girl, man!”

Tommy rolled his eyes and scrolled through a few on his phone they’d taken at her apartment while cooking dinner.

              “Damn, dude, I suck,” Marco said as he looked at them.

They sat and strategized, coming up with potential scenarios of what Prieto might be after. Finally at noon, Tommy texted him, saying they were in the lobby, and they were ready to meet. Prieto found them five minutes later after he exited the elevator. He surprised them both. About six two, gray hair, and a fairly well-built frame. Flat stomach. Brown khakis and an untucked blue oxford, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

              “Have you been waiting long?” he asked.

              “No, we’ve just been kind of hanging,” Tommy said, standing. They shook hands and Tommy introduced Marco, who surprised him by acting professionally. Tommy half expected him to ask Prieto if he wanted to buy into his recent short-term loan operation. Prieto called the staff and had them cater lunch in the meeting room. After chitchatting about sports and current affairs while they ate, Prieto pushed his plate aside, indicating he was ready to get down to business.

              “What do you guys know about money?” he asked.

              “Other than you have a shit ton of it?” Marco asked.

              “Yes, other than that,” Prieto said, grinning.

              “How do you mean?” Tommy asked.

              “Well,” Prieto began, “how does one get money?”

              “Since you seem to be so good at it, why don’t you tell us?” Tommy said, leaning back.

              “Fair enough. There’s basically three ways. You can earn it, you can inherit it, or you can steal it,” Prieto said. Tommy nodded, and briefly glanced over at Marco.

              “You got yours from earning it. Your dad was a tailor. Never made much. But you turned a few thousand into a billion in less than thirty years,” Marco said calmly.

              “Correct. And when I die, hopefully a long time from now, my two children, and their children, will inherit most of it. Then they can choose how to spend it, or invest it, or give it away,” he explained.

              “You’re referring to the Shea family fortune?” Tommy asked.

              “Tell me what you know about that,” Prieto said to Tommy.

              “Well, I don’t know about Shea’s family specifically, but with some basic calculations, in about two or three hundred years, it’s very possible for an intact family line to build up a trillion dollars,” he said.

              “That’s correct. What happens when you carry that out to its natural outcome?”

              “I’m not sure I follow,” Tommy said.

              “I do,” Marco interjected. “He’s saying that eventually, a few families could potentially own everything on Earth. The combined net worth of everybody on Earth is about two, two fifty trillion,” Marco said.

              “So, with maybe ten, twenty families that own two trillion each, that means they own ten percent of the world,” Tommy said. “Unless you convince governments to create a hugely unpopular death tax, I’m not sure why you’re meeting with us,” he added.

              “Well, generally speaking, once families start amassing that much wealth, beyond five generations, they start to become very protective of their family name. They become more and more interested in setting up charitable institutions, funding colleges. Andrew Carnegie was famous for spending the first half of his life making his fortune, and then spending the second half of his life giving it away,” Prieto explained. “And that kind thinking, among wealthy families with very old names, tends to keep them from doing any damage. They start to become very concerned with their image.”

              “That’s why there’re not a lot of rich families funding all those crazy startups,” Tommy noted. Viviana had explained that all the venture capitalists interested in her company were “new money,” like Prieto’s.

              “Correct.”

              “And you think Shea is bucking that trend? That he’s not giving enough to charity?” Tommy said.

              “Not exactly, I believe Shea isn’t who he says he is,” Prieto said. Both Tommy and Marco sat up.

              “What do you know about him, exactly?” Prieto asked.

              “Not much. All I found was on conspiracy sites,” Marco said.

              “Precisely the same thing I’ve found. And I’ve been looking into the Shea family for the last five years with similar results,” Prieto said. “And best as I can find out, about forty or so years ago, Dominic Shea’s name suddenly appeared in the family records, which are now inaccessible. There is very little record of him until recently,” Prieto explained.

              “What do you think that means, exactly?” Tommy asked.

              “I believe him to be an imposter. I think he has somehow forced his way into the family line, and is now in control of the entire family fortune,” Prieto explained.

              “And a guy that devious, and that sociopathic,” Marco said, “with a trillion dollars at his disposal…” He looked at Tommy.

              “He could do some serious damage,” Tommy finished.

              “And he could also be very dangerous,” Prieto said directly to Tommy.

              “What are you suggesting we do?” Tommy asked.

              “Let me propose this,” Prieto started. “You two come work for me. And in that capacity, you will be my inside man at Shea Industries. I’ll provide full legal protection should he initiate any legal action. I will provide you with secure communications that you can use to communicate with me and your associate, who will be reporting directly to you,” Prieto said slowly. “You’ll have a large budget to hire whoever you need, in whatever capacity you need, to find out anything you need.”

              “What is our purpose? What are we looking for, exactly?” Tommy asked.

              “Anything that can either implicate him legally, or shut him down financially. I believe he is a very pathologically evil person, who intends to do serious harm to our economy or legal system in some capacity.”

Marco smiled, slowly turned his head toward Tommy. “I’m in,” he said.

Tommy smiled and nodded.

              “Very well, I’ll have my assistant set you up with the financing you need, and I’ll have my technical expert here on site tomorrow to help set you up with anything you need,” Prieto said.

              “Damn, dude, we hit the jackpot!” Marco said once they were back in the lobby. Prieto had gone back up to his room.

              “Easy, pal, we need to go slow, make sure we don’t get killed or anything,” Tommy said, joking.

              “So, what’s our first move?” Marco asked.

              “This,” Tommy said and called Jamie Drake, putting him on speaker. He shot a serious glance at Marco, putting his finger to his lips.

              “Drake Investigations.”

              “Hi, Jamie, this is Tommy, you’re doing some work for me on Laney Berg,” Tommy said. Marco nodded his understanding.

              “Uh-huh?” Jamie said.

              “I’m calling about another project. Just how good is your hacker?” he asked.

              “For the right price, he can hack anything,” Jamie said.

Tommy looked around, making sure nobody was within earshot. “Well, continue with the Berg case, at the same rate. But I have an additional target, different case. I’d like your guy to find out anything and everything he can regarding this individual. Spare no expense,” Tommy said.

              “Got it. Name?”

              “Dominic Shea.”

              Max stood at her door, after having knocked twice. He knew she was home, so he gave her some time.

              “Yes?” she finally said, skeptically opening the door a few inches.

              “Mrs. Heim?” he asked politely. “I’m Jeffrey Wilson, a claims adjustor with your insurance company. I think there might have been a mistake.”

              “You’re goddamn right there’s been a mistake! They just doubled my premiums, and my cancer medication has tripled!” she said, opening the door and motioning him in.

              “So, let me just get our records straight, please explain your medical condition?” he asked, and then sat back and allowed her to vent for forty-five minutes. Once he had all the information he needed, he excused himself.

              “Hello, is this Jason Heim?” Max asked from his hotel room.

              “Yes, who is this?”
              “Hello, Jason. I represent an investor who is interested in spending quite a bit of money on genetic research, and he gave me your name as somebody he might want to head the laboratory,” Max said.

              “Serious? But I’ve still got a couple years left before my thesis is even due. How’d you find out about me?” Jason asked curiously, taking the bait completely.             

              “Well, to be honest, I don’t know much about this stuff. Only that your academic record is outstanding, and they were very impressed with your undergraduate research. We would be happy to financially support you until your thesis is accepted and published,” Max explained.

              “And what would you require from me in return? You guys aren’t making bioweapons or anything, are you?”

              “No, not at all. Quite the contrary. Our organization is purely interested in funding research to eradicate all disease at a genetic level. Not only would that be incredibly profitable, but our founder recently lost somebody to non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and feels it’s imperative to do something,” Max explained.

              “Wow, that’s what my mother has. I don’t know if we can afford her medication anymore, they just jacked up the price,” Jason said.

              “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Max said. “But if you agreed to a contract of say, five years upon acceptance of your thesis, I’m sure he would be more than happy to pay for your mother’s treatment.”

              “Serious?” Jason asked.

              “Absolutely, when would be a good time to meet?” Max asked with a calm smile on his face.

              “Hello, is this Ahmad Bazzi?” Max asked. He’d done similar research on Ahmad, who’d been in the United States only three years since being accepted into Harvard’s genetic research program on a full scholarship. A cursory look into Ahmad’s web browsing history showed he spent a lot of time unsuccessfully trying to meet girls on various dating sites, and an equal amount of time on pornography websites.

              “Yes, who is calling, please?”
              “My name is Lewis Kirkland,” Max said, “and I’m calling on behalf of an investor who is very interested in your academic work. We realize that you are halfway through your thesis, but we would be willing to support you financially if you were to agree to a five-year contract once your thesis is accepted,” Max explained.

              “You serious? I mean is this real?”
              “Mr. Bazzi, I assure you that leading minds in genetic research are in high demand. And we have a very lucrative recruiting program to ensure we attract and maintain the best minds. However, in exchange we have a very strict non-disclosure policy,” Max said casually.

              “Yeah, that makes sense. Recruiters are here all the time, and I’d be happy to sign any non-disclosures,” he said eagerly.

              “Wonderful. Just to let you know we are serious, I’d like to send a couple of our representatives over to your apartment. You are in C-27, in the apartments on Commonwealth?”

              “Yeah, yeah, that’s right.”

              “And you’re free this evening from seven PM?”

              “Yeah, who are you sending?” he asked.

              “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. And rest assured if you do sign with us, there will be plenty more like tonight,” Max said and ended the call. His next call was to a high-end escort service near Harvard.

              “Angel Escorts,” a voice answered.

              “Yes, I’d like two of your most talented professionals to go the following address at seven PM this evening,” he explained. One more call and he’d be finished for the day. He called and let it ring several times.

              “Hello?” answered a very young and excited female voice.

              “Hi, Molly! It’s Mr. Keen, how are you?” he asked.

              “Um, good,” she said.

              “I’ve got great news!”

              “Really?”

              “Yes, they’ve decided you’ve got the perfect face for what they want. Do you think you can find a bus to take you to the airport?” he asked.

              “Oh my God! Yes! When?” she said quickly.

              “Can you be there this Friday evening, six o’clock?” he asked.

              “Yes, yes. I’ll have to tell Becky to tell her mom I’m staying at her house, no wait, I’ll tell Becky to tell her mom that both of us are staying at Melissa’s house, and then on Friday I’ll call Becky and tell her I’m not coming because I’m going to meet Spencer and not to tell anybody,” she said almost too quickly for Max to comprehend.

              “Fantastic. And in case anybody asks, you’ll be home Saturday by noon. Can you take the bus from the airport to Becky’s house?” Max asked.

              “Well, I’m not really staying at Becky’s house, but I can take the bus to her house and then come home from there, so yeah, that will work. Oh my God, what should I bring?” she asked excitedly.

              “Just wear something comfortable. We’ll provide all the clothes. I’ll find you Friday afternoon at Redding Airport, OK?”

              “OK! Oh my God, I’m going to be a model!”
              “Just be sure not to tell anybody, OK?”             

              “OK,” Molly said just before Max ended the call.

              Molly spent the next five minutes frantically pacing in her room. It was going to be absolutely impossible not to tell anybody before Saturday. But who? Becky would tell somebody. Melissa would definitely tell somebody. No way could she tell her sister, she would blab to her mom within like ten seconds. She started to scroll through her contact list. Somebody had to be in there.