CHAPTER 7
With his cell phone held up close to his ear, the Headman paced nervously behind the door of his private room.
“What do you mean Gristle? Do we have a problem or not?”
Even though his actions told a different story, his tone remained deathly serious.
“Sir, I swear I took care of it. Your shipments are safe in the warehouse, and the S.S.Chameleon has already put out back to sea. Besides, why are you so worried about these Dreadnoks anyways? From what I’ve been told, they’re nothing more than a bunch of grape soda drinking, chocolate donut-munching, Australian dingos. Not to mention the fact that they’re on the other side of the world for Christ’s sake!”
“You listen to me Danimal.”
The volume of his voice dropped drastically.
“I’m in charge of this operation, and if I say they are a threat to us, you had better believe that they are. Don’t you ever doubt me!”
His voice began to grow in intensity.
“They are an international biker gang with ties to more terrorist organizations than you could ever fathom. If you pissed them off, you may very well have just painted a target on our backs, not only with Zartan and the Dreadnoks but Cobra as well! Do you understand me?! Your actions today may have put my entire organization in jeopardy!”
By this point, the cartel leader was furious. He angrily pressed end on his cell phone, but was annoyed and disappointed that it didn’t have quite the same effect that slamming an old-school phone receiver once had.
As his anxiety level exponentially increased, his mind began to swirl with the possibilities of what now needed to be done. The Dreadnok pirate would not risk breaking communication silence on the high seas, but once he got back to Australia, he would be quick to inform his employer of the alleged disrespect. In the next few weeks, he would have to move all his product to the new location if he hoped to avoid future retaliation.
It had only been a couple weeks since the sanctions had been lifted on Bacro Industries, and although he had wanted to wait a bit longer before calling upon the good doctor, the careless actions of his second in command had thrown a monkey wrench into the cogs of his original expansion plan. It was imperative for him to be smart and proactive about weathering the possible s#!t storm heading his way. He would need to set up a meeting with his new partner over the next few days in order to solidify a plan of action.
The Headman had successfully carved out a rather extensive worldwide empire devoid of both the Dreadnoks and Cobra, but he wasn’t yet established enough to start a turf war with either faction, but hopefully that would soon change. Over the last decade, he had amassed a small fortune supplying his product to other suppliers, and in the process, managing to stay off the DEA’s radar of potentially growing threats. Most people had hardly heard of the Headhunters and even fewer individuals knew him personally.
Oh, Dr. D’Alleva I may be collecting my debt far sooner than you could ever have imagined. He rifled through his desk drawer and produced a new, still in the package, burner phone. He strolled over to his closet in order to obtain his purple pinstriped suit jacket. From the inside pocket, he retrieved a Bacro Industries business card with the doctor’s name emblazoned upon it. After activating the new phone, he dialed the numbers for Doctor D’Alleva’s direct line. The phone trilled, once, twice and an unrecognized professional voice greeted him.
“Bacro Industries, Dr. D’Alleva’s office. Vivian Halloway speaking. How can I assist you today?”
“Good afternoon Ms. Halloway. I trust that business is once again booming?” The voice was smooth and condescending in tone, and its delivery alone sent a shiver ran down her spine.
“Business is prospering, thank you for inquiring. Can I ask who’s calling please?” The line went silent for a brief moment.
“I’m a close friend and benefactor of your CEO, Dr. D’Alleva. Could you tell me if he is he available at the moment?” The caller’s response continued to further creep her out, as the realization of just who was on the other end of the line became clear.
“He...He’s in an important meeting right now with the company shareholders. Can I take a message?” Her voice trembling slightly.
“No thank you, Vivian. Just be a peach, and let him know that I will be in touch--very soon.”
His choice of words further unnerved her, but Vivian managed to interject once more. “Umm sir, I didn’t get your name or number.”
“I didn’t give it.”
As the phone line disconnected, she placed the receiver back into the phone cradle, then wiped a fresh line of sweat from her brow. She didn’t like or trust the well-dressed man in the purple suit and fedora that Vincent had described to her. Although she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, she was quite confident that he was the owner of the voice on the other end of the line. She had hoped over the past month that he wouldn’t be calling anytime soon, but that clearly was no longer the case. A half hour later, the door to Doctor D’Alleva’s office opened abruptly surprising the secretary. Six well-dressed men and women in good spirits egressed. As the last person left the office for the elevator, the intercom on her desk buzzed. She pressed the answer button and was relieved to hear the familiar voice of her employer.
“Vivian, could you please come in here for a minute? I need to dictate an important letter.”
Her hands were trembling and she tried to calm her nerves. The combination of the last three events had left her startled and unnerved. She took a steadying breath before answering.
“Yes Doctor, I’ll be right in. Would you care for a cup of coffee?”
“That would be splendid Vivian! Fix me up something with an international flare. I’m feeling adventurous.”
She rustled through her disorganized purse to find her makeup mirror in order to check her face. She then stood up, straightened her skirt and walked over to the single serve coffee machine. After inserting a pod of French roast, she snapped closed the top of the Keurig and waited patiently as the stream of hot water forced its way through the tiny container and into the large coffee mug. Once the mug was full, she added three scoops of sugar and a splash of milk. She placed the ceramic cup onto a small tray which she carried back to her desk in order to retrieve her stenographer’s pad and favorite green pen. The whole preparation took a mere three minutes but gave her some much needed time to compose herself before delivering, what she perceived to be bad news, to her boss who seemed to be a somewhat chipper mood. Vivian walked through the door with a tray in hand, while feigning her best happy face.
“Good morning Doctor D’Alleva. How was the shareholder...?”
Her boss of close to thirty years, cut her off before she could finish her question.
“Vivian, how many times have I asked you to simply call me Vincent? Save the formalities for well. . . formalities.”
His secretary shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, but still managed to place his coffee on the desk in front of him before taking her usual seat across from him.
“The shareholders meeting went very well, and I am happy to say that the third quarter earnings report shows Bacro Industries posting a profit. Our stock is up, and customer orders have been steadily increasing. Did you ever think we would see this day again?”
She continued to smile knowing full well that his excitement was genuine a well placed.
“That’s great news! I always knew that we would get back into the black someday, but I have some---” She paused for a moment and bit down on her bottom lip not quite knowing how to deliver the news. Vincent looked over to her recognizing a look of dread upon her face.
“What is it, Vivian? You know that you can say anything to me. I can handle it.”
His most-trusted employee swallowed hard, then began speaking again only this time, she averted her eyes.
“I received a phone call from your new---benefactor, and although he didn’t leave a formal message, he did say that he would be in touch with you very soon.” Vincent seemed a bit surprised but was in no way shaken by the news.
“It was to be expected. I figured he would be reaching out shortly. His kind--” He paused only a moment. “Usually doesn’t wait too long to collect on their favors.”
“I don’t like it one bit. I don’t trust him. He’s bad news! Why would you even accept his help?! You have morals, Vincent! I don’t see any way that this ends well for us.”
The CEO held up his hands in an attempt to fend off her verbal tirade. Seeing his hands she refrained briefly, allowing him to respond.
“What would you have me do? The company was failing and it was that, or---” He paused briefly searching for the best words to convey his message but he was interrupted once again.
“Or what Vincent?” Her voice holding equal amounts of anger, empathy, and curiosity.
“I was ready to end it all the day he came to my door! I was desperate and had he shown up just twenty minutes later, you and I would not be having this conversation today because I would be pushing up daisies on Memorial Lawn. I’m not proud of the deal I made, but my company was in dire straits. Now, we are back in the black. Our stock is on the up and up, and for that, I am truly grateful to him. I’ll pay him what he wants and sever any and all ties as soon as I can. If business continues to improve at this rate, I can afford to make him go away.”
Even though he spoke the words aloud, he didn’t really have faith in them all, but he needed Vivian to believe him.
He already knew that the Headman wanted more than money. He had indicated as much during their initial encounter. He would be requesting a favor, and God only knows what that was going to be. Vincent only hoped that it wouldn’t be too terrible, and once he cashed in on his favor, that the drug lord would then be out of his life for good. His explanation did a little to quell Vivian’s fears, but she readied her notepad while nodding in agreement.
“Vincent, I get it. You wanted to save your company and go back to making a difference in the world. You have always been the one with a noble cause, and for that, I applaud you. I just don’t know if you found the best way to do it.”
Satisfied that she had spoken her piece, Vivian picked up her pen and awaited his dictation. Deep down inside he knew his secretary was right, and that’s what irked him the most, but what was done is done, and now he would have to deal with the consequences of his actions. After forcing himself to return to the task at hand, the CEO cleared his throat signifying that he was ready to begin. Vivian sat at the ready to record his thoughts.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Board of Trustees. It is with great enthusiasm that I am writing to you today! It seems that good fortune is once more shining upon Bacro Industries, and I wanted to be the first to share this triumph with you.”
His secretary easily encoded his words into shorthand, and after several more lines of clear and utter ass-kissing, the document was complete.
“Vivian, if you could get that typed up and into the mail by this afternoon, that would be wonderful! Oh, and please put through the phone call from my benefactor when next he calls. That will be all for now and as always, thank you for being you.”
Miss Halloway blushed a little and nodded her understanding, then stood up in order to return to her private office. He stopped her before she reached the door by placing his hand on her shoulder. She turned around once more to meet his gaze.
“Vivian, everything will work itself out. You just have to trust me.”
“Of course sir.” She then exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. He hoped that she believed his claims, but Vivian was a smart woman and was most than likely simply appeasing him with her response.
The doctor now had a little time to ponder his situation. He could renege on his deal and turn the Headman into the proper authorities. Maybe he could just convince him that his assistance was no longer needed, but Vincent was pretty sure that both courses of action would result in him getting fitted for some concrete shoes at the bottom of the Thames or Oxoboxo River. The CEO considered offering him a bribe in the hopes that he might actually take it, or he could just conveniently take an undisclosed extended vacation now that the business was up and running again. In reality, he knew, neither of those two scenarios would pan out either.
Vincent would have to pay the piper, and there was little that he could do about it. He flipped through his ledgers while performing some calculations on future production costs and marketing strategies. The morning went by without incident. The dread of the impending phone call continued to weigh upon him. It wasn’t very long into the afternoon before the call button on his desk phone flashed. He pressed the button to place it on speaker. The familiar voice of his secretary greeted him.
“Doctor, you have an important phone call from your . . . good friend. Shall I patch it through?”
He briefly considered having her take a message, but that would only delay the inevitable. After taking a solitary deep breath, he replied.
“Patch it through Vivian.” The phone clicked between the two lines. “Good afternoon, Doctor D’Alleva here. How can I be of assistance?”
The line remained eerily quiet for a few moments, then the caller spoke. Vincent quickly recognized the smooth-talking voice of his benefactor, the headman in charge, on the other end.
“Well, hello Vincent. It’s so nice to hear your voice again. It’s been far too long. So tell me, how has business been the past month or so?”
“Business has been booming as of late. Thank you for that.”
“Good, good. You’re quite welcome, and I am extremely pleased to hear it, but shall we get down to the real reason for my call?” Without waiting for a response, the Headman continued. “We need to meet soon. How’s midnight tonight work for you?’ The tone and delivery of his words made it more of a directive than a question.
“Umm.. sure, midnight is doable.” Vincent did his best to remain calm and not to stutter.
“Great! I look forward to seeing you again. We have so much to discuss. See you then.” The line went dead immediately after. Vincent leaned back in his chair and breathed a long, agitated sigh.
What have I gotten myself into? He unlocked the lower left-hand drawer of his personal desk and removed a black, steel, lock box. After entering the five-digit security code, the dual locks popped open. From inside, he removed an exquisite Glock 19 handgun. He had only ever used it at the shooting range, but it still felt quite comfortable in his grip. He checked the clip and the chamber to ensure that it was still loaded. He hoped he would not have to use it, but he also wanted to keep himself safe. He turned it over in his hands and admired its sleek lines and polished surface, then he turned the safety off and laid it gently back in the case. He pushed the desk drawer shut, but conveniently left it unlocked.
He couldn’t sit and ponder the current situation for too long, as there were still matters that required his attention. The new employees needed to be checked in upon, and he wanted to run an efficiency check on the new production line machinery. Afterward, if time permitted, he could head up to the greenhouse and run some tests on his newest plant food formula. The rejuvenation of the corporation had done wonders to rekindle his creative energies, and he had begun the synthesis of several new chemical compounds, that could possibly be used to reduce toxic waste and preserve the environment. His rebranded plant food was once again generating sales nationwide, but the philanthropist in him still wanted to do more.
Could he still run a legitimate company under the thumb of a known drug lord? What would happen to his corporation and his reputation if all this came to light? Not allowing himself to dwell upon the severity of his situation, he decided that he needed to remain positive and productive. With at least seven hours before his scheduled meeting, Vincent was determined to make the most of his free time. He retrieved his security swipe card from the upper desk drawer and headed out of his office. He waved to Vivian before exiting into the hallway.
As he entered the elevator on his way to the research floor, he shifted his thoughts from the “headman in charge” to his recently hired organic chemist from Bavaria. Having only worked in the corporation for the past two weeks, he had already presented himself as someone with many innovative ideas, and a long and promising career ahead of him. His current project proposal revolved around the development of organo-mechano organ implants designed to repair or replace worn-out body parts. The bulk of his designs involved a lot of tech but was not something Bacro Industries couldn’t somehow incorporate and capitalize upon.
The chief CEO knew if he wanted his corporation to get back to the top and stay there, that he would have to remain on the cutting edge of technology, and that meant that he would have to find new ways for his business to evolve. After exiting the elevator, he walked down the hallway and later swiped his security clearance card in order to enter the main lab wing. As he entered, he watched as his new hire was soldering wires onto a circuit board connecting them to a rather complex robotic hand which was covered in a new semi-synthetic organic skin. The skin had originally shown promise in previous static tests, but apparently lacked the tensile strength needed to withstand the friction of dynamic parts. As a result, recent reports had indicated that after only a dozen or so movements, it would tear and require replacement.
“How are things going with the new organo-skin Randolph? Any new ideas on how to prevent the tearing?”
The young scientist managed to pull himself away from his work briefly, and flipped up his soldering goggles to acknowledge his new boss.
“Oh hello Doctor D’Alleva, please call me Hotwire. I wasn’t expecting you today, but I’ve actually managed to increase the tensile strength of the synthetic skin fivefold since just yesterday. We’re still in the infancy stages here, but I am quite confident. I’ve been working on creating an organic polymer that can withstand the heat created by the friction of the moving joints. In addition, by adding in synthetic reticular fibers, I have maintained its original flexibility while adding to its strength. Don’t you worry pops, I will figure this out, I just need a little more time.”
Vincent leaned over the desk and poked at the synthetically produced organo-skin. It was squishy to the touch much like gack, only warmer. He furrowed his eyebrows in response to his new employees choice of vernacular.
“Oh, no worries Hotwire. take your time. There is no rush. I’d prefer the product to be safe and resilient. It’s starting to feel very lifelike. I am really quite intrigued by its chemical properties. Have you looked into the work of Doctor Nashinira in Japan? He’s an old friend of mine and has been working on 3D printing bio-skeletons using a combination of collagen fibers and fiberglass.
“Oh yeah. I heard about that. I just haven’t had the time to share my research with him yet. A modification of his procedures combined with my genius and materials could be a slam dunk.”
Vincent let his gaze shift from the robotic hand to Hotwire’s other workstations. It appeared that he currently had at least three projects underway.
“Alright, well enough about this for now. Did you get a chance to mix up the formula for the plant food I formulated the other day?”
“Yup, sure did. The weed killer is in the refrigerator.”
“Um, it’s not supposed to be an herbicide, Hotwire, it’s a fertilizer.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever, I’m just kidding Doc. Geez! Don’t have a coronary.”
The veteran scientist managed a half smile. He was finding it hard to deal with the new-fangled humor and vocabulary of some of his recent hires. Whatever happened to respecting your elders? How things had changed since he first started out in the industry. Scientists were revered, now it wasn’t a cool profession anymore.
“I know Hotwire, I’m just yanking your chain, yo.” He tried to sound hip in his delivery.
“Ah... yeah Gramps, don’t ever say that again. I know you’re trying, but your lingo’s a bit off. We’ll work on it later. Until then, don’t use it.” The CEO tried to laugh it off but was actually a tad bit insulted.
“Alright, Rand...I mean Hotwire, I’ll stop by and check in with you again on Friday. If anything groundbreaking happens before then, you know where to find me.”
Hotwire gave him two thumbs up before flipping his soldering goggles back over his eyes and returning to his previous work.
Vincent retrieved the experimental plant food from the lab’s fridge and placed it inside a handheld medical cooler. After excusing himself, he walked through the doorway to visit the other scientists stationed in the adjoining lab room. The doctor was happy that he had been able to bring back some of his previous employees who had been previously laid off. Among the returning employees were Doctor Richards and Doctor Martha Rossi. Both had agreed to take charge of the two recently created research teams. Each was comprised of a half a dozen new hires, and for the first time ever, several paid and unpaid interns from the local high school and community college.
Things were slowly returning to normalcy, and it was great to once again see the laboratories buzzing with activity and excitement.
He kept his conversation with the other employees light and jovial. Several of them he had known for at least a decade of his life, and he was happy that there were no hard feelings between any of them who had returned. He was considered by most in the community to be a top-notch employer and when word went out that he was once again hiring, there was no shortage of applicants.
A friendly workplace is a happy and productive workplace. He smiled as he repeated the motto to himself while complimenting their research and inquiring about their families. The climate was beginning to once again resemble the one he had fostered and nourished before the financial problems. He finished making his rounds in just under two hours and then walked down the hallway in order to reach the elevator that would take him up to the greenhouse on the roof. The elevator creaked to a stop and after the doors opened, he exited the car. His intent was to place the new plant food into the garden lab’s refrigerator before taking his dinner break.
The greenhouse, located on the top floor, was one of his favorite places within the entire industrial complex. It was quiet and serene, and the plants made a noticeable difference in the overall freshness and quality of the air. It had been a challenge at first, but he had managed to keep the greenhouse up and running, even when the company’s funds were at a minimum. The plants growing inside the building were of extreme value to his ongoing research, and the environment inside had many times contributed to his overall mental well being.
The botanical garden was organized into three distinct regions. There was a vegetable garden with a nearby mushroom patch, a flower garden, and the research garden. The enclosed area was a self-sustaining ecosystem housing butterflies, ladybugs and even a small honey bee hive. The only aspect of the garden that required electricity was the fountain pump and the timed sprinklers, which watered the area twice a day for just under two minutes. The voltage required for each of these actions was produced by three large solar panels built into the structure’s roof.
The organic soil contained a slew of earthworms, and the compost created by the fallen plant leaves was used to cultivate mushrooms in one of the dark corners of the vegetable garden. His crowning achievement was the marble fish pond and fountain at the center of the glass structure. The constant sound of its flowing water contributed to the tranquility of the space. The pond had its own sustainable ecosystem providing a home for seven medium-sized koi, a couple bullhead catfish, and various mollusks and crustaceans. He paused briefly at the water’s edge just as the timer activated feeding system released a handful of fish pellets. The koi rushed to the area and quickly devoured their feast, and as soon as the food was gone, they went back to swimming lazily beneath the surface.
After a couple more relaxing moments, Vincent walked past the pond and in the direction of the research garden which was cordoned off from the other two gardens in order to prevent cross-pollination and possible contamination. He swiped his entry key card and passed through the eco-locking door. Inside, he removed the new experimental plant food from the medical cooler and placed it inside the research fridge. His plan was to return after his dinner break and treat the tomato and zucchini plants in the research garden with the compound. If his initial calculations were correct, the plant food would increase the crop yield by 41% and require only 78% of the time. Visible results would be achieved by the end of next week. An improvement of that degree could go a long way in reducing world hunger.
Vincent’s excitement led him to briefly consider skipping dinner and just getting down to work, but the rumblings in his belly and his scheduled late night rendezvous quickly jarred him back to reality.
“I had better eat. No telling how late I’ll be here tonight. Nothing worse than dealing with an uncomfortable client on an empty stomach.”
He spoke the words aloud, even though there was no one nearby to hear them. Before exiting the research garden, he hung his white lab coat on a wall hook and then walked back through the tranquil garden, back out onto the roof and through the glass doors that led back to the hallway and the parking garage elevator. Pressing the button, he waited patiently for the car to arrive and the doors to open. The bell chimed and the doors slid open. The car was vacant and he hoped that it would be stopping several levels down to pick up Vivian. If it did, she might possibly join him for dinner, but as he glanced down at the time on his watch, he realized the futility of that thought as her shift had ended nearly an hour ago. By now, she was probably home and preparing dinner for her family. The ride down was quick and devoid of any additional stops. As he exited the elevator, he waved to the recently hired security guard.
“Are you leaving for the day doctor?”
He offered up a sincere reply before passing through the double glass doors and into the underground parking garage.
“No Pedro, just taking a much-needed dinner break. I have a late night of paperwork ahead of me when I get back. The board wants a full financial report on their desk in the morning.”
He lied about the report, but the security guard needn’t know his true obligations.
“Alright well enjoy your dinner doctor. I’ll still be here when you get back.”
The guard waved, but Vincent was already out the door. His maroon 1998 Lexus ES300 was parked in spot one and as he pressed his electronic key fob, the marker lights flashed twice and the horn beeped once to unlock the doors. It was an older car, but it had been reliable, and up until recently, all that he could afford. It looked nothing like the car that a successful CEO would drive, so he had made a mental note to change that as soon as he got the chance. As he started the car, his CD player filled his ears with the sounds of one of his favorite songs. Here I go again on my own... going down the only road I’ve ever known. He sang the lyrics loudly and completely out of tune but frankly didn’t care.
“So, where shall I go? I’m thinking either bacon double cheeseburger and fries, or maybe a turkey, ham, and cheese with a side of lightly salted chips?”
He commonly spoke his thoughts out loud, but usually didn’t answer himself, so apparently, he wasn’t certifiably crazy.
“Well car, let’s see where you take me. Going down the only road I’ve ever known! Like a drifter, I was born...” It was a good thing that he kept his windows rolled up because his singing was terrible enough to make babies cry and to scare away small puppies.
The Lexus traveled down the main street and into the center of town. Vincent decided that his dinner choice would depend upon where he actually found a parking spot. The first available spot was in front of Sonny’s Diner.
“Burger it is!” He flipped up the directional switch in order to signal where he intended to park. After shifting the car into reverse, he parallel-parked with ease. After lowering his radio, the doctor turned off the motor and exited the vehicle.
