Twenty-Eight
Ian
Act like a douche, act like a douche. Rich guys suck, so now you suck. Inflate that ego, light your cigars with money.
“Grant.” I internally gag at the fake name. Might as well call me ‘Loan’ or ‘Trust Fund’.
“Melissa.” I tip my head in greeting, briefed on everyone’s names and descriptions from Malcolm’s team before arriving.
She offers a coy smile and her hand. “Shall we?”
The best part of playing a pompous jackass? It’s not unexpected for me to act like one.
Walking right past her, I head up the steps. “We shall.”
Opening the door at the top of the stairs, I enter the building. The lobby is massive, and a cursory glance shows several doors that are keycard entry only. How Esmerelda made it past them is anyone’s guess, but Iamcurious on that fact. If she were simply here to see why her friend was held up at work, how did she end up where people can’t simply stumble across?
A carefully put together blonde woman rises from her desk as she sees the group of us stride inside. “Mr. Drake.” She tips her head to me first before doing the same to the five others behind me, an assortment of men and women from Malcolm’s company. “If you’ll follow me.” She heads around the corner down a hallway and towards an elevator, gesturing us in first before stepping inside and hitting the button for the top floor.
Ah, elevator. If Rel slipped down the hall without being seen, she could have ended up anywhere. There must be a secondary entrance to the basement from this side somewhere.
The door opens as we hit the top floor and she leads us down the hall and past a wide open waiting room, a set of double doors on the far side. She opens the heavy, oak doors, gesturing us to pass her into the room.
“If you’ll just take a seat, Mr. Thompson and company will be with you shortly.” Holding the door for us to pass, we head into the conference room, a heavy thump as it shuts behind her echoing around the room and leaving us alone.
The wall to the left is made completely of windows, as well as the one directly across from the doors we just entered. A massive table takes up the entirety of the room, enough plush chairs surrounding it to seat a small army. The wall to the right has a solitary door, yet another keycard lock on it.
“So wh-“ I clap Seth on the shoulder harder than necessary and shoot him a warning look before heading towards a chair.
“Now, now, Seth, you know how I feel about wasting everyone’s time. We don’t want to get into everything before Mr. Thompson and friends arrive, or we’ll just have to repeat ourselves. Not like they’re recording board meetings; what terribly dull television that would make.”
Loosing a breath, he nods, taking a seat, as do the rest of them. Pulling out my new phone, I start jotting notes in code just in case there are any cameras hidden in the room we aren’t aware of. Back to the window, I don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on me, though I need to be cautious of my phone reflecting on the glass. The door across from me opens a few minutes later and four men file into the room. Malcolm’s team rises respectfully, so reluctantly, I do as well.
“A pleasure,” the man that must be Thompson says, oozing self-satisfaction from his very pores.
Not so much as a single, dark hair out of place, he adjusts a button on the cuff of his expensive suit before sitting at the head of the table. If he’s doing this lucratively, I can only imagine the human shareholders of the company. Fates only know, there’s no way any humans around here would allow mages to hold a monopoly on anything. Money is just another form of power, after all.
The others blur into a faceless blob of monotony, all ranging in similar statures and suits. Picking one out of a lineup would be a nightmare, but I force myself to memorize their faces all the same. There’s no telling how many people in this building are privy to what’s going on, and if there’s a chance we only have to take out the ones we’re sure are one hundred percent guilty, I want to make sure no one slips through the cracks.
These are all men that want my mate dead, and there isn’t a single thing they could do or say that would save their necks as far as I’m concerned.
After all of the customary greetings, Thompson’s men start in with their presentation to try and sway us into being impressed enough to contribute funding to their project. Both companies are in biotech, but while Malcolm’s is primarily research and medical advancements, Thompson’s research leans towards weaponry applications.
Eventually, it all becomes a monotonous droning in the background, and as much as I try to keep up, a lot of it goes over my head. I trust in Malcolm’s team for this part, to keep mental notes of anything particularly alarming or that could be useful to either Malcolm or the underground.
“I’m sorry, are we boring you, Mr. Drake?” I look up from my phone, Mr. Thompson’s jaw tight as he stares me down like I’m one of his employees that he’s trying to embarrass rather than the man he’s trying to impress.
“A bit, yeah, thanks for asking.” His lips press into a thin line, and I don’t even bother to conceal my smirk. Making a show of tucking my phone into the inner pocket of my jacket, I clasp my hands together on top of the table. “From what I’ve heard thus far, you really have nothing to offer us to make this a fair deal; you’re simply after funding. There are plenty of other companies whose business models more closely relate to ours, and I’m currently wondering why my uncle bothered to send us all the way here and waste everyone’s time.”
Everyone pauses at the directness, but Thompson’s second in command recovers quickly, trying to salvage the situation. “Your associates spoke of not only studying the genetic markers that triggered the change in humans in the first place, but seem particularly interested in the vampire gene. Why some humans can be turned and not others, how the vampires could be aware of that marker and what makes the feral beasts choose to turn someone in the first place instead of devouring them.”
He has my full attention at this point and it shows, though I’m careful not to appear surprised at the information I should be well aware of. “And?”
Leaning forward, he looks genuinely curious. “For what purpose?”
Licking my lips, I rock back in my chair with a secretive smile. “As a fellow man that appreciates science, you already know that any and all knowledge is worth exploring regardless of its applications for the future. One does not simply choose to remain willfully ignorant because he’s yet to unearth all of the potential advantages.”
Raising an eyebrow, he looks unamused. “So, it’s classified.”
