Chapter 23 A History Lesson

My eyes were glued to the gun halfway out of the stranger's coat pocket. The handle and chassis reminded me of some Ruger, like something from a World War II movie, but updated. As he continued drawing it from his jacket pocket, I noticed how the barrel appeared much longer than it should have been. Was that a suppressor? Over the din of the coffee shop, the likelihood of hearing anything coming from the bathroom would be incredibly low. He could put one in me and be on the street before anyone else could walk into the bathroom. Was he a professional? Who hired him?

Was he the one who killed Colin Gerrard?

I looked back at the stranger's face, memorizing the man who was about to kill me. Besides the scar and a slight bend to his nose suggesting he'd broken it, nothing else jumped out at me, yet something about him tickled the back of my mind with a sense of familiarity. Had I seen this man before? The things my brain decided to focus on during a life-and-death experience were bizarre.

Speaking of life-and-death situations, this would have been a perfect time to get a return on my investment in hiring Chloe and the Johns. What were the odds of me getting attacked the moment they were occupied with Jacob? He couldn't have been involved in this, could he?

I opened my mouth to say that he must have mistaken me for someone else when the door squeaked open and in walked none other than Carla Tanaka.

The gunman's face immediately twisted into a grimace, and he shoved the Ruger back in his pocket. He turned, brushed past Carla, and disappeared out the door before either of us had a chance to react. She stepped aside to make room for him to leave, looking slightly confused at what appeared to be a strange encounter in a public restroom.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and Carla looked back at me. She must have read my expression as enthusiasm for seeing her again because her look of confusion melted into a conspiratorial smile. "Marcus! Fancy us bumping into each other like this!"

"What're you doing in here?" I asked her, still trying to recover from the fact that a man had almost pulled a gun on me. Seeing Carla in the men's room only added to the shock and confusion

She took a few steps toward me, her hazel eyes filled with conspiratorial desire. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright after what happened back there."

"I'm fine," I lied. "Sorry... just a little shaken. That was my brother. He was asking me for money and... hey, you know this is the men's bathroom, right?"

"I do," she said, her body language suggesting she didn't give a fuck. "But I hated how our conversation ended and saw an opportunity. I have something for you."

She held up a piece of paper between two fingers, her hazel eyes fixed on me. If looks could fuck, Carla would be molesting me right now. She closed the distance between us, her large, firm breasts brushing against my chest. I stepped back and bumped into the toilet partition, and she followed me, keeping the distance between us at a minimum. Her eyes flickered to my lips and then back up to meet mine, and she pressed the piece of paper in my hand as she leaned in to press our lips together. Still reeling from the fact that a stranger nearly pulled a gun on me and now I was being seduced by a married woman in the bathroom of the Strange Mudd, it took me a moment to respond.

She moaned as she massaged her mouth against mine, her tongue flicked at my upper lip. Then she pulled away, and her eyes slowly opened as her sultry smile returned. The fingers that had pressed the piece of paper into my palm lingered, exploring its contours for a moment longer before slipping away.

"My phone number," she whispered. "I meant it when I said I'd love to get to know you more." She reached up and brushed my cheek with her fingertips and then slowly backed away. "Call me."

Then she left the bathroom.

I stared at the door as it slowly closed behind her, then looked at the piece of paper in my hand. Sure enough, there were ten digits scrawled across it in a feminine hand. I swallowed. Carla Tanaka was aggressive... and hot.

She was also married to a powerful man with strong connections. Allowing his hot wife to kiss me in a public area was bad enough, but there was no way I was hanging onto her phone number. I glanced at the trash can, considering whether I should throw it out. Why keep it? It was nothing but trouble.

She

was nothing but trouble. Was it worth the complications when I could snap my fingers and have someone like Bobbi or Erin take care of my needs?

Then it hit me that I hadn't been alone in this room before Carla entered. With the possibility of the gunman returning, I pocketed the phone number and left before giving him that chance.

I emerged from the bathroom, stormed through the small alcove that hid the entrance from view, and entered the common room. Chloe was crouched beside our table, picking up her coffee cup; neither Jacob nor the three Johns were anywhere to be found. I could still feel the tension from the altercation between my bodyguard and brother, but it was already dwindling like a stretched rubber band slowly returning to its resting state. A few people still stared at Chloe, and a couple of patrons spoke to each other in hushed tones. However, Carla returned to her seat, scrolling her phone as if nothing had happened.

Dillon approached Chloe with a mop in hand as I closed in on her, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of danger. "Where are the others?" I asked her.

She looked up at me and said, "Jacob wanted to go after you, so John and Ray escorted him out. The other John went around to get the car. I assumed you wouldn't want to stay here." She seemed to notice the look on my face because her brow furrowed, and she narrowed her eyes at me. "What?"

"We need to go," I said, keeping an eye out for any sign of the gunman.

Knowing something was up, Chloe followed my orders without hesitation. She gathered her stuff off the table while I turned to Dillon, pulled out my wallet, and retrieved several hundred-dollar bills. "Hey, man. I'm sorry about this. I didn't know Jacob would be here." I shoved the bills in his pocket as discretely as possible.

"No sweat, dude. I remember him being a drama llama."

"Thanks," I said. "Give some of that to your coworkers. Keep the rest for yourself... for the trouble."

"Sure thing," Dillon said, tugging his pocket away from his pants to eye the wad of cash.

"Do you mind if we just leave? I'm sorry about the mess, but I need to go. It's important."

"Yeah, man," Dillon said. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'll tell you about it later."

"John's out front with the car, but he says the mob is still out there. The other two are prepping to clear a path for you," Chloe said.

I fist-bumped Dillon and gave him an appreciative smile, and then we made our way to the front.

"Cool. Just a heads-up," I said to my bodyguard, my voice low as I kept a vigilant eye around the room, but I couldn't see any sign of my would-be assassin. "Some guy just tried to pull a gun on me in the bathroom."

"Fuck," Chloe cursed under her breath. Her hand disappeared underneath her jacket.

As we approached the door, I gave her a brief account of what happened in the men's room, not skimping on any of the details. Erin and Helen had stressed the need for Chloe to have as much information as possible, and now I was starting to understand why it was so important. After what just happened, I'd probably let her watch me take a piss

When we reached the front, Chloe muttered to the man she called Ray, "We have a broken arrow. Target's MIA. Male. Roughly six feet. Scar on his face and wearing a brown canvas jacket. He's armed. Just get him to the car."

I thought my bodyguards were professional before, but the speed and efficiency with which they moved showed me that I hadn't seen anything yet. Between all three of them, every step and movement was calculated as they exited the Strange Mudd. The two men flanked me, keeping their hands hidden under their jackets. Chloe was in front, firmly pushing any paparazzi back who tried to get too close as she escorted me roughly thirty feet to where my car was idling with the other John sitting in the driver's seat.

Within moments, Chloe was in the car with me, and we drove away. The other two would follow behind in a different car.

"I shouldn't have let you go alone," Chloe said after a few moments of silence.

"It's not your fault," I said, though I supposed technically it was. I glanced down at my hands and noticed they were shaking. I suddenly felt lightheaded and laid my head back on the seat, shutting my eyes. The excitement and adrenaline must have been wearing off now that the immediate danger was over.

"It's one hundred percent my fault," she retorted.

"You had your hands full, and I'm fine."

"That doesn't matter! There were four of us there, sir! If we'd done our jobs properly, at least one of us should have been in the bathroom with you. Instead, you got your ass pulled out of the fire by that brainless gold-sniffer, Carla fucking Tanaka."

She was right, but I could tell she was beating herself up over it, so there wasn't any point in piling onto whatever she was working through. I kept my eyes shut and tried to calm down.

"Where are we going?" John asked.

That was a good question. Between the ambulance chasers, the gold diggers, and the men trying to kill me, I wasn't sure where I would be safe from harassment, let alone murderers. My apartment? Sure, but I couldn't stay there indefinitely. Chloe and Erin claimed the paparazzi would die down in about a week. While that wouldn't solve all my problems, it was a start. Maybe I needed a change of scenery to clear my head anyway.

"Out of town," I muttered.

Tuesday 1:33 pm

"I don't understand why I can't just take first class."

Erin looked at me, her hands on her hips. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. The house is an extravagance, but I get it. This feels like a whole other level of being extra," I said, waving a hand around the interior of the private jet we were viewing. "Especially when I want to leave today. There has to be a lot that goes into buying a plane."

"Yeah. That's why I brought the small army with us," Erin replied. "Test flight, inspection, appraisal, insurance, jurisdiction... I have it all covered."

She turned and stuck her head out the door. "We're going to be a little while. Mr. Upton wants to make sure it meets all his needs," I heard her say.

"Please! Take all the time you need!" our salesman, Sam, said from the steps just out of view.

"Thanks! I'm just going to shut this so we can get the full experience. I promise we won't take off or anything," Erin sing-songed that last bit and slid the door shut, cutting off what sounded suspiciously like sounds of protest from Sam. It moved similarly to the door on a van but much bigger and came with a massive handle that Erin had to move with both hands to seal it.

I glanced at Helen, and she smiled at the younger woman's antics. "She's right, you know. Aside from saving you time and a headache, it's safer."

Erin had suggested Helen accompany us for the purchase, and I agreed, though for very different reasons than what I imagined Erin had. Helen's team was vital in this purchase, but I was sure Vikram or someone else could have handled it for her. I wanted her there because I had questions that needed answers.

"I know I'd feel a lot better about it," Chloe said, her arms crossed over her chest as she reappeared from one of the rooms just down the hall. After what happened earlier at the coffee shop, she insisted on checking every room before letting me explore the plane. So far, I'd seen the cockpit, a kitchen, dining room, den, massage room, bathroom with a jacuzzi tub, and two bedrooms. I was amazed private planes could hold all this and still manage to get off the ground but considering the weight of so many people on commercial airliners, maybe it didn't seem so outlandish.

"Yeah," I said. It's just between the apartment and the plane, it's a lot of money to blow in a week."

"Speaking of which," Helen said. "The company that owns the Liberty Elite building called back. They appreciate the offer but aren't interested in selling at this time."

"Damn," I said and walked past Chloe to look down the hallway she'd just emerged from. The door on the right opened to a nice bathroom that would have looked like one you'd find in a nice home if you didn't know any better. "Was the offer good?"

"Maximum appraisal value," Helen replied as she followed me down the hall.

"See if they'll accept fifteen million more," I said, walking into the largest bedroom I'd seen on this plane. The entire plane was set up to show off like an open house, and the bed had been made with a nice spread and decorative pillows. I tested the mattress, pushing on it with my hands. It was more comfortable than anything I'd ever slept on before two weeks ago.

"Why do you want to buy it?" Erin asked, following Helen into the room.

"I don't know," I said. "I just like the idea of owning the entire building I live in." I plopped down on the couch along one wall. It was also more comfortable than any piece of furniture I sat on before two weeks ago. I guess only the ultra-wealthy deserved maximum comfort. All the plebs could just get fucked.

"Why buy this plane?" I asked, looking up at the two ladies. "Didn't Colin have one?"

"It's owned by VistaVision," Helen said. "I thought you might prefer one without strings attached. You can certainly afford the luxury without any of the baggage."

She had a point. The last thing I wanted was to have board members or shareholders watching every move I made or wanting receipts. I studied Helen for several long moments, and she didn't shy away from meeting my gaze. This seemed as good an opportunity as any.

"Speaking of baggage," I said, "Colin was supposedly murdered, and I was nearly shot this morning in a coffee house bathroom. Apparently, there's a coup boiling at my grandfather's company-"

"Your company," Erin cut in.

"My company," I repeated without taking my eyes off Helen. "You mentioned VistaVision being the tip of the iceberg. I doubt we'll get a more private place for you to fill me in on some of the details you mentioned yesterday."

"Really?" Helen said, arching an eyebrow. "Here? Now? With all those people waiting just outside?"

"I'm paying them all really well." I looked at Erin. "I

am

paying them all really well, right?"

"They're all earning more than you would've made in a month at your old job," Erin confirmed.

I looked back at Helen expectantly.

She sighed. "Alright."

She sat down on the other end of the couch, knees pressed firmly together as she smoothed her skirt over her thighs. She was obviously trying to compose herself.

"There's no way you can get to be as wealthy as Colin without exercising some serious influence," Helen said. "Colin controlled a lot of the power in the US through bribes, lobbies, and backroom deals. Not just the US either. He held a lot of sway in other countries as well. He wasn't just a shrewd businessman. He was also politically gifted."

"Okay," I said, waiting for more.

"VistaVision was his first company to make it big, but there was no way it would have made him the kind of money he had near the end of his life. Sure, he made a few lucky investments, getting in on the ground floor of computers and the internet, but where he made his killing was brokering arms deals during the Cold War. The details are boring, but by the time the Berlin wall fell, your grandfather had amassed his first billion."

"He used his money and connections in the technology sector to leverage contracts that turned VistaVision from an entertainment industry to one of the biggest entertainment conglomerates we have, expanding his influence into Europe and the Asian market."

"Colin had a massive and intricate company structure that kept everything compartmentalized and far away from VistaVision and his public persona. As a result, the Gerrards are known as an industry specializing in entertainment and technology, but Colin Gerrard was responsible for some of the biggest political moves in the past forty years. Harry Whitehurst was his lapdog and practically gave him access to the first Bush administration. He and the Clintons vacationed together frequently. He was on a first-name basis with Prince Charles. The Iraq invasion? The Vice-President was in Colin's pocket. Your grandfather owned twenty percent of Haliburton."

"And you currently own twenty-eight percent," Erin chimed in.

"Jesus," I said, hardly believing what I was hearing. "He wasn't responsible for 9/11, was he?"

Helen shook her head.

"Now that Colin's dead," She continued, "no one is sure what to do. Sure, the companies keep running, but some of the shadier ones lack direction. Colin didn't trust many people, so most of his staff only knew parts of his operation. He was a big fan of making sure the left hand didn't know what the right hand was doing. I'm sure Chandler only has suspicions regarding some of it but is mostly ignorant. Only three people were close enough to Colin to have anything close to the entire picture."

"I'm gonna take a wild stab at this," I said. "Kelly Maddox was one of them?"

Helen nodded. "She was a close advisor for years. Roger once told me that he suspected she was his mistress."

"What happened between them?" I asked. "Why did Colin fire her?"

"I don't know. Chandler certainly doesn't, but she has friends in high places within your grandfather's organization. The minute he died, people started hearing whispers about her taking over as head of VistaVision."

"Okay, so if Kelly is so bad, what about the other two?"

"Well, one of them was Michael Haley," Helen said.

I glanced at Erin, but she simply returned a blank stare.

"Never heard of him," I said.

"He was Colin's son-in-law. Nina Gerrard's husband."

"Wait. I have an aunt?"

"An uncle, too," Helen said. "Logan. He was the third."

"And I'm just now hearing about them!?" Helen winced from the heat in my tone, but I didn't care. She had withheld a

lot

of information, and I had every right to be pissed. "Where are they in all this?"

"Michael's dead, and Logan is in prison."

"The fuck?"

"It gets worse," Helen said, hesitating briefly. "Logan is in prison for the murders of Michael and Colin Jr."

"The

fuck?

" I repeated, standing up from the couch. "My uncle murdered my dad?"

Helen nodded again, taking a deep breath before continuing, "That's not all. Marcus, Colin Jr. also had two children by his wife."

I didn't bother saying it that time. I ran my fingers through my hair and started pacing. In the space of a single conversation, the size of my family had doubled. I wasn't sure how to feel. How was someone supposed to mourn the death of someone you weren't even aware of when they died? What about the rest of the family? Did they know all this? Were they even aware that my grandfather was dead? Did they care? Why hadn't I seen them? Did they even know I existed?

"I see the look on your face," Helen said. "Don't get your hopes up. From what I understand, they absolutely despise you."

That stopped me in my tracks. I turned to look at Helen. "What? Why?"

"Because you inherited everything."

"But why?"

"I don't know," Helen said, standing up from the couch. "I don't know the details, but Colin thought his children were all spoiled brats, and his grandchildren were just as bad. He hated them. He cut everyone off a year ago."

"Because he was such a man of character," I quipped.

"Good men rarely build empires, boss," Erin said.