"Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War
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Nigel was following Anna Brightman down the corridor to the boardroom. "Lamb to the slaughter," he thought. "Lamb to the slaughter."
How come he'd not noticed before what fine haunches that little lamb had? She was wiggling her arse in that form-fitting, impeccably tailored Savile Row suit as she walked ahead of him, and his dick was beginning to swell in his trousers at the sight. Try not to think about it. Now was not an appropriate moment for a bulge. It was an increasing problem these days though, ever since his last encounter with the witch bitch Valeria in Moscow. He shivered, and his trousers grew tighter still. He needed to clear his head.
Brightman dropped her pen and bent to pick it up. He nearly rear-ended her and pulled up just short of that tight little arse, now thrust into the air before him. Had she done that intentionally? Surely not.
"Ooh, sorry!" Brightman said, laughing melodiously and turning to peer back at him with the sweetest smile.
"Uh..." he tried, failing to form any meaningful response. She was never friendly, and he didn't know what to make of it. His cheeks flushed.
"It's so good to see you again, Nigel."
"Um, well, yes. And you," he stuttered, thrown by her unexpected warmth. Perhaps she had wind of what was about to happen and was making a last, desperate bid to ingratiate herself with him.
It was two weeks now since he'd returned from Moscow, and the last time he'd been at the head of a board meeting Brian had been at his side, on that fateful day he'd decided the ex-army man should accompany him on the trip as a safeguard. This time, he felt uncharacteristically vulnerable, shorn of his right-hand man and closest ally. Brian had returned a changed man. Gone was the straight-laced, restrained old boy, replaced by a lascivious, alcohol-soaked deviant. His poor wife had phoned Nigel, tearfully hinting at unspeakable behaviour. Knowing the debauchery he'd visited on his own wife after his first encounter with Valeria, he could imagine. That sweet young thing, Loulou, had truly fucked with Brian. He'd been given no choice but to put him on gardening leave, banished to a sanatorium for rest and recuperation.
Now he had to deal with Anna Brightman and put an end to her sly machinations. Once upon a time, the woman had been nothing more than a minor irritation.
How had it come to this? In his salad days, he'd promised himself he'd build a company where every employee felt valued. Bitter experience had shorn him of the delusion. An employee-representative Director on the Board was a last hurrah for that former self. His lifelong friend and coding comrade, Geoff, had taken the post, and life was good. Then came betrayal. Geoff had announced he was stepping away from the company, nominated Brightman to take his place, and Nigel lost his last friend in the world. Before he had awoken to the danger, she was voted on to the Board. Now he couldn't dismiss her without the consent of his fellow directors. She'd grown from an itch to a festering thorn in his side.
But he had a plan.
"First order of business today is a rather sad and troubling matter. As you know, I've only just brought negotiations for the takeover of Osco to a successful conclusion, barring shareholder approval and legal niceties. I..."
"Yes, we know, Haverstone." It was that sour-faced, holier-than-thou Thompson, an old antagonist of Nigel, interrupting him as was his wont. "And, before you take all the credit, a number of our people contributed to the deal. So what's the trouble?"
"I received a letter last week from Dimitry Kuznetsov, Deputy Security Officer at Osco, revealing that somebody from our company has been feeding them confidential information about our financials in an attempt to undermine the takeover." Nigel flourished the letter and placed it on the table before them. "That person is none other than our employee-representative Director, Ms Brightman." The pronouncement brought a collective gasp from the assembled board members.
"Haverstone, this accusation is beyond contemptible."
"He's willing to testify to that effect, I'm afraid. How else would he have obtained these figures?" he asked, jabbing his finger at the letter before him. "In light of that, it gives me no pleasure to ask that we vote immediately on the removal of Anna Brightman from her position on this board." He did his best to affect an expression of benevolent pity as he spoke, barely able to suppress his glee at the look of hurt and confusion written on her face.
"But I've done nothing of the sort! I don't understand," said Brightman.
He'd always had a nose for people's weaknesses and how to exploit them. It was how he'd managed to screw so many young women in his employ, after all. What nobody present knew was that he'd instantly recognized a greedy sleazebag in Kuznetsov, resentful of his lowly position at Osco and only too willing to provide fake testimony in return for a juicy role after the merger and an even juicier bung.
"I'm so sorry, Brightman. Nobody is more enthusiastic about women progressing at my company than me, and I sympathize that you envy my success, but you leave me no choice." He contrived one last charitable look at Brightman, turned to the men around the table and continued. "So, gentlemen, a vote."
"Hold on, Haverstone!" said Thompson. "I've received information from Osco too. Just yesterday, this Kuznetsov fellow dragged a young female employee into a store cupboard and attempted to rape her. He's been arrested and summarily dismissed. I wouldn't trust a word the man wrote."
"Impossible! It's a fraud," Nigel shouted, rising from his seat and clutching the edge of the table.
"We have it on good authority from the Osco Board. In fact, that brings me to the most pressing business of this meeting."
Nigel slumped back down into his chair, his face suddenly drained of colour. When he spoke, his voice was thin and strained. "It can wait."
"No, it can't. It pertains to your competence as CEO of this company, and therefore takes precedence over any other business."
"Thompson, how many times have you tried some trumped-up charge against me? Give it up."
"I've had to question your sordid behaviour towards female employees many times over the years, it's true, but your latest exploit threatens to undermine company business."
"Seriously? She's angling for a pay-off!" Tiresome. Thompson trying to use another disgruntled former assistant he'd fooled with against him. Par for the course.
"Not Miss Jones, though that's serious enough. No, we've had a report from the Osco Board of a most unsavoury incident in Moscow between you, Brian and two young women. They're threatening to withdraw from the deal if we fail to offer sufficient reassurances."
Nigel's heart leapt into his mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"I have the evidence here," he said, indicating the folder before him. "I've already shared the gist of it with my fellow board members, but I'll save you the embarrassment of discussing the details if you agree to drop this ridiculous crusade against Ms Brightman and allow me to continue."
Nigel's mouth opened, but no words formed.
Thompson turned his gaze from him and addressed the other directors: "I suggest the seriousness of this misdemeanour means that the Board must vote immediately on whether Mr Haverstone should be removed from his position as CEO of Haverstone Tech."
Brightman! This had to be her doing. Fuck the bitch! Fuck, how he wanted to fuck the bitch too, he realised. What was wrong with him? A moment like this and he was getting the horn for her again.
"All those in favour?"
Five out of the ten raised their hands. Nigel's face blanched as he studied Brightman, waiting for her to raise her hand. Those intense, hazel eyes of hers betrayed no emotion, but he fancied a faint smile flickered across her lips. Her hands remained on the table. What, she wasn't going to plunge the last knife in?
"All those against?"
Four raised their hands. Brightman: nothing. Of course, the skanky bitch was going to abstain. Not even the courage to fight him openly.
"Without Mr Haverstone, we wouldn't have a company," Brightman said, as she raised hers.
He was flummoxed. She'd chickened out, too cowardly to face him off and take her chance. He'd make her regret it.
"Well, I must declare the vote inconclusive. It seems Mr Haverstone has survived once again."
Thompson was droning on, but Nigel barely registered him. A torrent of thoughts was raging, but one shone through: he wanted to tear the clothes off Brightman, mess up that pristine exterior and plunge his now swollen dick into her tight little box.
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He was a hulk of a man. No mistaking him. He had the air of one of those old prison ships Nigel had seen paintings of, anchored off the marshlands of the Kentish coast, faded and forlorn, huge timbers cracking. Brian, in a briefly lucid moment, had given him the man's name, an old acquaintance from his days in the army, former Georgian Special Forces turned security specialist.
"Mr Haverstone?" he asked on seeing Nigel, his voice low and gruff, and held out a huge slab of a hand. "I'm Tomasz." Nigel reached up to grasp it. "And this is Borys." Tomasz indicated the gangling young man beside him. Borys gave a swift nod and bared a grin missing a couple of teeth at the top, shifting restlessly from leg to leg.
The driving rain and late winter's early evening gloom made it hard to discern it fully, but it appeared they stood outside a Victorian municipal building, judging by its Gothic features. Devil and griffin gargoyles peered down at them with malign grins from the smothering dark above.
The rain was beginning to seep down the back of his neck, and Nigel shivered, fidgeting with the collar of his raincoat and darting his eyes from point to point, alighting finally on the sign by the entrance: "Orthodox Seminary of Saint Shushanik." He raised an eyebrow. "A religious school? Why have you brought me here?"
"I didn't bring you here, Mr Haverstone, if you'll forgive my saying. You insisted on coming."
"You said you had an interesting lead on Anna Brightman. I was curious."
