Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 05

Happy that I accepted his credentials, Smith got straight to business. "Your people have started looking for a woman named Sian Thomas. We'd like them to stop."

"No," I answered plainly.

Smith smirked at my outright rejection. "You're not going to ask why or try to negotiate?"

"No. I have better things to do with my time."

"We can make you a deal," the spy offered.

I waved him away. "Unless you tell me exactly why someone is trying to kill me, who they are and how Thomas is involved, there's no deal to be made."

"Well, I can't do that..."

"Then get off my plane, Mr Smith."

The spy now made no effort to hide his smile.

"You're tougher than Saddam, Mr Orwell. Alright then," he exhaled, chewing his cheek. "Acting tough is all well and good, but let me pose you a hypothetical... Let's imagine you have a guardian angel named Uncle Sam that keeps you safe nine outta ten times. Now, that one time he fails hurts like hell, so maybe you lose your faith as a result. But, if you stop praying, the guardian angel flies off and the danger increases exponentially."

"Oh, I understand!" I said, rolling my eyes. "You've been working in the shadows to keep me safe. If I don't back off looking for Thomas, you stop and the bad men hurt me. Is that right?"

Smith nodded with his suave smirk now fading. "I'm not all stick and no carrot, Mr Orwell. The US government would like to offer you financial incentives -- rewards for being an upstanding global citizen and champion of free market capitalism."

Laughing, I felt my fist tighten. Violence came easy to me now that men threatened all I loved. But I held back on hitting the slimy spy.

Barely.

"I'm valuable to you fuckers. I don't know why, but for some reason, I'm essential to you... It's why they wanted me in charge of Pellinore, and why you've been -- allegedly -- protecting me."

Smith sighed. "We agree with the Brits that it's best to keep that shop a family-run business."

"Minimising scrutiny?" I asked.

"If only it were that simple, Mr Orwell. If only..."

Smith was being somewhat honest as he prompted me in one direction and away from another. We'd been over the company and the money a dozen times with a fine-tooth comb. Whatever had people playing tug of war with my life, it wasn't to be found there. I thought, maybe, I could get him to give away a little more information.

"I'll give up the hunt for Thomas if you tell me one thing: was my father murdered?"

Smith shrugged.

"Did US Intelligence investigate his death?"

Smith shrugged again.

"Do you know anything about him?"

Now, the agent folded his hands and began to speak. "Your daddy was a wicked man, Mr Orwell. They told you your grandparents were dead when really they just wanted nothing to do with him. He was properly foul with your mother and was a drunk, no doubt... Believe me, you should be grateful he died -- otherwise you'd have killed him yourself. He'd have waited another year or two before diddling your sisters, much like he diddled your momma. Hell, guys like that don't see gender, so I wonder if he ever touched you... He was a sicko and a pile of scum, but he wasn't dumb enough to get behind the wheel while inebriated. No, sir, your daddy's problem was his cleverness: the fact he thought he could outplay the folks at the high roller's table. Kinda like you're angling right now."

As I swung my fist, Smith caught it -- using his training to anticipate my move -- but before he could put me on the ground, Skylar and Alicia grabbed him. They threw him against the cabin wall and he raised his fists in self-defence, but he was no match for the both of them. He took a few hard punches in the gut, almost crumpling to the floor as they left the so-called spy holding his stomach and coughing.

"Ha! I may have overstepped the line," the man laughed between pained grunts. "Think your girls ruptured my spleen."

I shook my head, watching him recover. He may have been right about my father...

Maybe he was.

Then what?

The truth is, I never knew the man. But most sons think their fathers are great, regardless of the facts. It was true that my mother was younger than him... It might have been true that he was a 'diddler,' and it was certainly true that had that been the case and I knew it, I would've killed the man myself.

But how could I trust someone named 'John Smith' who confessed to being a spy? And what the hell did he mean when he said my father tried to outplay someone powerful?

"Look, you're decent enough," Mr Smith admitted, straightening his back. "Fate has dealt you the wildest hand of hold 'em I've ever seen. You're stuck in the middle of something you'll never understand, so don't even try. This ain't one big conspiracy -- it's a thousand small ones. That's what people get wrong about my world, Mr Orwell. You're not looking for one truth, hoping to uncover just a single secret. If you want truths, you need to unpick a spiderweb that spans four decades and six continents."

I smiled, knowing I'd made real progress in convincing this man that I had a legitimate cause. "You can help by giving me somewhere to start."

"Yes... I could..."

Rubbing his bruised stomach one last time, the secret agent walked to the door. Skylar blocked him; her hand behind her back and on the grip of her gun. She was ready to interrogate the guy with a barrel between his lips, but that wasn't how I rolled. In any case, I doubt even the harshest treatment would see the career-spy talk.

I gestured for her to let him pass and he disembarked...

There were men in Washington trying to figure me out. Profilers who sat around boardroom tables, theorising the best ways to bend me to their will. I knew these men wouldn't have sent a messenger if they really didn't want me looking for Sian Thomas.

No, they would've known that such a move would only make me dig in my heels and pour more resources into finding the crazy Welsh girl. That's what they wanted... She was a useful distraction for me, but didn't hold the truth.

It was more complicated than that.

Not one big conspiracy, but a thousand small ones...

• • •

The short flight to Vegas provided time to get some work done on my super-jet. We only left late the next afternoon, with our evening out planned to start at 10 PM or later.

On a personal level, it was already a strange trip, long before we even took off. There was anticipation and mystery -- a touch of suspense and a real sense of self-discovery. We were all learning who we were.

Sitting down in the boardroom, Alicia read emails as I did my own work. I started off with a video call to my assistant and cousin, Natasha.

We shared a warm hello before getting into some business. Halfway through the call, my attention suddenly broke as Elle walked into the room, quickly followed by Tecla. The girls were wearing their 'uniforms' -- white dress shirts stolen from closet.

"Hey," Elle greeted, waving to Alicia and circling to say hello to Natasha. "I'm glad everyone is here... I want to talk business."

Immediately sensing what this conversation was going to be about, I shut it down. "I'm not buying a porn studio."

"You haven't even heard my offer--"

"It would be reputation suicide," I declared.

Alicia wasn't so sure. "We could obviously keep your involvement secret."

Giving my chief of staff a stern look, she smiled back at me, knowing that she was being mischievous by encouraging Elle.

For her part, my sister seemed to have it all worked out in her head. "I wouldn't be hanging out on sets or attending parties. I would manage from a distance, leaving creative control to someone like Rod. We'd focus on creating works that serve as meaningful additions to the broader discourse."

Raising an eyebrow at the sophisticated language, I looked to Alicia, then to my screen where I saw Natasha rubbing her chin earnestly. Both were certainly entertained by the proposal, but Alicia was the one who thought it had genuine merit.

My typically conservative chief of staff advocated for my sister's proposal. "That research project Nash told you about... A tool like that could add massive value to an online content-creation business. Given the sector, we'd stomp onto the block and immediately be the biggest player around."

Shaking my head, I reminded everyone what we were talking about here. "Porn... We're talking about making porn."

Alicia shrugged. "Think of it as a tech business. Like I said, we can keep the family's involvement secret and use the project to establish data centres, develop machine learning and recruit talent."

"Recruit talent?"

"In more ways than one," Tecla winked, clearing being agnostic on the project itself, but enjoying the sauciness.

The idea now seemed to make sense. Or, at least more sense than it had made a few minutes ago.

I turned to Elle and threw my hands up in surrender. "You have 14 days to present a business plan. I want you to focus on the tech side of it, and you can bet your ass you won't be hanging out on sets or attending parties!"

"Of course not, Olly," my sister beamed, bounding forward to hug me like a daughter whose dad just bought her a pony.

As one sister twirled away from me, I laid my eyes on the other. "And you, Tec? Can I buy you a drug cartel or a cigarette business?"

Tecla laughed. "Just buy me some new lingerie... Actually, what about a fashion-line?"

Sighing, I gave Tec the same deal I'd given her twin. If she could create a business plan and convince me of the idea, I would happily make it possible for her. But she had to treat it with respect and diligence. These had to be real money-making businesses; not vanity projects.

The twins left us, practically skipping off to get their laptops and start planning.

With them gone, Alicia felt inclined to explain her behaviour. "Having a business that operates in a grey-zone can be of great value given current security and operational concerns. Let's say we generate a billion in revenue each year and channel it through a shell company... That has big benefits."

"Are the numbers really that big?" I asked.

Alicia shrugged, leaving the presentation of a business plan to my sister.

I turned all my attention back to my computer screen, seeing a smiling Natasha who was doing her best to hide her cheeky-spirited laughter. She loved naughtiness. Since the rehab started, she was reconnecting with that part of her personality. She also had something to take care of now -- my mother -- and that ignited a passion for nurturing that made her even happier.

"How's Eve doing?" I asked.

"Incredibly well," Natasha replied. "Like, I've never seen her move around this much."

I snorted. It was interesting... Our mother had power and she liked it. There was a part of me that resented it. But, for the first time in years, she wasn't existing in her own head.

Even though the power came from emotional blackmail, I could appreciate her happiness.

I moved on to ask about Tash herself, "How are you doing?"

"Good. The shrink is helping a lot... I'm starting to experience a bit of anxiety, but it's okay. Still no withdrawal."

I was quick to make a clarification. "There's been no serious withdrawal because your detox is well managed--"

"I know, I know... I'm not invincible, and I can't safely abuse meds just because I'm a nurse."

"Exactly."

With us agreeing about something, we moved back on to business.

"We should talk about your mother's list," Tash reminded.

The 'list' had grown in size and scope, but now there was no way I could deny Eve anything. Not after what she saw in Australia. Yes, she wasn't blackmailing us explicitly, but she made her expectations clear.

"The cosmetic stuff is madness," I mused, recalling the majority of the demands. "Let's set her up with a team and have them manage things. You shouldn't have to deal with the insanity."

"I want to," Natasha replied. "Auntie Eve is family and she's... Broken."

"You're not broken," I declared, suspecting my cousin was looking for something to identify with in my mother.

"I... I got close to being broken."

Exhaling, I conceded the point without saying a word. It was true... All the money in the world couldn't buy a big red reset button to change that fact.

We went on to discuss other business -- not family business, but the kind that makes money. Keeping it up for an hour or so, an announcement from the pilot interrupted our flow.

"If you'll look out the left, we are taking a scenic route over the Grand Canyon. She's gorgeous folks."

I rose from my seat and walked to the nearest window. Sure enough, there she was... The Grand Canyon in all its glory. I never thought it could look as amazing as it did, even when we were so far above it.

The sight struck my breath away and I smiled as we slowly passed its immensity and splendour.

The next landmark we'd see would be the Las Vegas strip. On the one hand, there was incredible natural beauty -- heaven incarnate, sculpted into the earth by the hands of the gods. In perfect contrast, we were about to touch down in the ultimate man-made city of sin.

I enjoyed the black and white. In many ways, that was the story of America: grandiosity on every scale as man conquered nature, only for nature to sometimes fight back.

This place was epic -- as was our journey.

51 • Heaven on Earth

We went straight from the plane onto an executive helicopter. During the short walk between the two, the first thing we noticed was the incredible heat. Air-conditioning was essential and the cabin on the chopper provided the relief we needed as we soared over the fake European monuments and tributes to consumer-capitalism that made up the Vegas Strip.

Our destination was the newest tower of them all: The Wicked & Divine.

Clocking in at 70 floors, the giant casino-resort was the pet project of a Wall Street consortium that wanted to see the revival of a city that had been ailing for some time. The number was significant -- the place heavily themed on notions of heaven and hell, which is why Natasha booked it.

"You'll enjoy it," my assistant assured. "It's very on the nose."

Being the most prestigious resort in town, the W&D had a heliport out back where we landed. An amenity that seemed trivial in comparison to the $144,443 per night price tag of our suites. Disembarking, we were greeted by a man standing between two women; an angel dressed in a white cocktail dress with bright-red lips and a 'devil' in black, with matching dark lipstick.

Both ladies held a tray of drinks, themed to their outfits. The light-side was a candy-floss cocktail while the dark-side offered a red concoction that seemed to boil under the Vegas sun.

Tecla took one of each, Elle went for heaven and I abstained...

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," the hotel manager greeted. "Our establishment is honoured to have you as our guests. Your team have booked both the Heaven and Hell suites, so we can choose which one to visit first."

I smiled, enjoying the melodrama. "I think we want to see Heaven first."

The manager nodded, politely directing us to follow him into a small private lobby with an elevator centred perfectly on a book-matched marble wall. That feature alone might have cost more than 500-thousand dollars -- easy.

Later, we would find out that secret doors took you from that lobby to the casino-proper, where hundreds of gamblers lose untold sums of money every hour of the day. There were also amenities, like restaurants and a spa, plus, a hell-themed Roman bath.

We were on our way to the top floor and there was giddy excitement as the elevator ascended at speed. The higher we went, the brighter the lights inside became as we got closer to Heaven. Large LED panels lining the walls did the same, beginning to depict renaissance scenes of angels.

Landing on our floor, we stepped directly into the penthouse.

There were so many sights and sounds to take in! Everything was bright-white or gold with light flooding through windows designed to enhance the glow of the room. It all shimmered. The ceilings were painted by hand; cloudy vignettes of what Heaven might be like, with angels and harps aplenty. Meanwhile, a system of motion sensors and speakers played gentle musical cues as people moved through the rooms. At first, I thought it would be irritating, but the sounds were so precise that it made you feel lighter and happier.

Of course, the suite consisted of seven rooms (excluding bathrooms). Two were bedrooms, there was a caterer's kitchen, a cigar room, small office, private wellness centre, and large open-plan living area. The latter had its own pool with fluorescent water and a glass bottom that looked down on the main bedroom.

As the hotel manager left us, Tecla did a twirl with a mad smile on her face. "I can see why we picked this place! Like, wow... We're rich!"

"You only notice this now?" I teased. "What about the Singapore place, or Australia?"

Tec shrugged. "America is different... In America, everything is bigger and more decadent. It's like we're in Nero's Rome."

I agreed. "Apparently, you can take or break anything in these rooms, and they'll just charge it to our account when we leave. That's not an invitation on my part..."

Giggling, the girls made their way to their walk-in wardrobe to get ready for our outing. They skipped all the way and I smiled, knowing that money was no substitute for true happiness, but that it helped salve the pain of our house burning down, me getting stabbed, and our mother kicking us out.

• • •

At night, the Strip came to life as neon signs cast a glow over the city. It was everything I imagined and more -- much more.

Tecla was right... We felt rich, and not in the way it had felt before. No, now we felt like masters of the universe and it was a long way down from floor 70 of the W&D Casino-Resort.

Turning away from the sights, I brushed some hair back and started making my way for the door.

Seeing Skylar in a tailored black suit with white dress-shirt was quite something. Alicia, meanwhile, was exhausted after the flight and chose to stay at home -- giving Sky a chance to take charge.

I couldn't help but gawk at my bodyguard. "You look stunning."

"My first night out in a long time, sir."

"I just love a woman in a suit," I teased.

Sky gave me a wink as she opened the limo's door and I hopped into the car with my sisters. They were looking good in little black numbers with heels to match. The dresses had followed them here from back home -- from our old life -- but the shoes were new, as were the radiant cut diamonds around their wrists.

The bracelets were a recent gift from me; something to help them smile after our mother made her move.

We arrived at the mega-club through a side-door reserved for VIPs, going straight past mile-long lines of people clamouring to party with the rich and famous. Security was already tight at places like these, but our people made sure that night was even more well-guarded. Every patron was searched and men in black suits were scattered throughout every bit of real estate.

"This is my first time in a nightclub," Elle explained as we were ushered inside.

I turned to Tecla. "What about you, Tec?"

"Not my first time," she lied, wanting to project confidence.

The club was massive; built over three storeys with several dance-floors. Our section was exclusive -- ultra-exclusive -- and we looked down on the largest of the stages, where dancers and a DJ set the tone. Neon lights lit the hallways and strobe lights created a steady rhythm for the patrons, reminding me of the last time I tussled at a discotheque.

I suspect that same memory was the reason Alicia decided not to tag along that night.