Rotted Roots — Part 11: Screaming Into the Void
When Ethan Ryder stepped off the elevator for the fifty-second floor with his sister, the only thing keeping the fury from his face was the plastic surgery he had done.
“I don’t know who they are or what they want they just showed up and told me to call you please don’t fire me,” blurted the receptionist in a torrent of nerves.
“Take us to them,” said Sarah. She didn’t bother disguising the anger in her voice. Their bodyguards followed them closely as they walked through the glass hallway.
Inside the Void sat two people. One was a huge, hulking man who leaned back in the seat and was eating a panini ravenously. His face was badly bruised. A silver tooth flashed while he bit into the toasted bread. The woman next to him was flipping through her phone absentmindedly, her hair pulled back in a bun from her dark skin. They were in the siblings’ seats.
“Phones don’t work in here,” Ethan said coolly.
“Mister Ryder, I run a technology conglomerate. We have phones that can work in the deepest undersea trenches. Being inside a faraday cage is the least of our concerns.” She looked them up and down. “Have a seat.”
The pair of them sat down on the narrow end of the triangular table — Sarah directly across from the interlopers, Ethan to her right. Their guards stood at attention behind them. The only sound was the chewing of the beastly man.
“I’m going to assume you know who I am,” the woman asked. Her teeth were perfectly straight and formed, as if they had been carved from ivory. They were piercingly white.
“Freya Ironside,” said Sarah. “CEO of WorldTree Technologies. Can’t say I’ve seen you around the country clubs.”
“That’s funny, since you don’t go to any clubs yourself,” Freya replied. “Even though your family still has a standing membership with all of the private clubs within twenty miles. Including that little secret club that meets out on Evergreen Island every year.”
“I’m sure I could sponsor your membership. We’re always interested in having the best and brightest.”
“I’m sure. But I don’t play well with others.”
“Then why are you here?” wondered Ethan. Freya smiled.
“You know why I’m here. Or do you need to be reminded?” She slid her phone across the glass table. Ethan picked up the device and looked at the screen. A news article was on the screen — photos of the stadium rubble next to the Ryder Industries logo was beneath the headline “The Root of Devastation.”
“We didn’t do this, if you must know.”
“Of course I know.” Freya nodded to the man next to her. “Mister Way, here, did.” Way finished his sandwich and wiped the crumbs from his fingers.
“And how did he manage to get his hands on those solar powered batteries? We’ve been developing those in secret for close to two years now.”
Way produced a package of cookies from his suit pocket. “It helps that you have an excommunicated sibling who wants to stop all of your private, criminal affairs. All I had to do was push him into making a fool of himself to distract your guards so I could sneak in. After that it was as easy as getting ahold of a security badge and looking like I belonged.”
“Smart,” Sarah said. “Using your adversaries’ tech to cause a terrorist attack. It’s good. I’m surprised we didn’t think of it before.”
“At WorldTree, we pride ourselves on being the head of the curve. For everyone’s world.”
“If only you could have developed some better dentures,” Ethan jibed. Freya shot him a look of disgust, breaking her cool exterior. “Must have been rough, growing up with a deformed palate. What did the kids call you? Frankenteeth? Jaws?”
Freya smiled through her anger. “Razor mouth. They weren’t very original with their insults. Not that you would have gone through that, being homeschooled for all your lives.”
“As much as I’m enjoying the rat-a-tat we’ve got going,” noted Sarah, “We really must ask you to leave. You’re trespassing.”
“No, I think I’m right at home. If anything, you two are the ones who are trespassing.” Freya tapped her watch. A keyboard was projected from one of the buttons onto the tabletop. She tapped away at the keys made of light. “Look at your stock options.”
The screen in Ethan’s hand changed. It showed the market price of Ryder Industries stock. It was currently less than ten dollars and dropping, down from its usual price of well over one hundred dollars a share.
“I wanted to just buy out your shell companies and international partners. Take control of your company the old fashioned way. But it was just taking so damn long. It was exhausting to watch.”
“Says the girl who isn’t even thirty.”
“Time is money, and I plan on making a lot of money from the government contracts your company just lost.”
Ethan and Sarah looked at one another. “You must not have gotten the memo,” Freya sneered. “It only just came in to your email accounts.”
“And how does that factor into your end game? Taking over a company seems like it would be the end point of a long con.”
“Believe me, your tiny company is just a stepping stone. I can already hear the nation cheering my name as the confetti rains down.” She smiled and spun in her chair. “It’s only a matter of time until I’ve bought a fifty-one percent interest in Ryder Industries. And then I’ll have access to everything your company has inside its research and development lab.” Before the barbs could continue, more interlopers arrived.
“Nobody move!” shouted Servaes as he and Ellis led several agents through the fifty-second floor into the void. Their guns were drawn.
“Don’t even think about it,” snarled Ellis as he aimed his gun at the bodyguards going for their weapons. Servaes aimed his gun at Way, who seemed to be unfazed as he ate his cookies.
“William Way, you’re under arrest,” he proclaimed. “For the terrorist bombing at Russell Stadium.”
“No.”
“This isn’t a discussion.”
“I believe it is,” said Freya. She stood up and adjusted her blazer. “You want to arrest one of my employees, show us probable cause.”
“I don’t need probable cause,” Servaes said angrily. “I’m from the International Division.”
“Which means you have limited allowances inside our borders. So unless you have some kind of proof to justify this outburst, you can’t arrest him.” Way pointed to his lapel. A pin featuring a stylized tree — the logo of WorldTree Technologies, and the same symbol on the car that helped Way escape — was affixed to his suit.
Servaes snarled and aimed his gun at Way. He began to squeeze.
“Don’t do that, Agent,” Ryder said. The detective pushed his way through the other agents, all ready for a shootout, and took a seat in the middle of the table. He looked at his siblings. He looked at Freya.
“It’s time we all had a talk.”
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…
Part 2: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-2-a-meeting-is-set-1c879ad163ee#.m5ejkesx1
Part 3: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-3-contact-is-lost-3a684d5ce7c9#.ooxxuts1f
Part 5: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-5-blood-and-bruises-6c28eb9dd94b
Part 6: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-6-family-reunions-f029c00e8b66
Part 7: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-7-the-fallout-from-addictions-473b4ecefefb
Part 8: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-8-jump-ball-ac5af15e8915
Part 9: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-9-where-theres-a-will-427d6a8d07fe
Part 10: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-10-the-calm-before-9ae58356ab48
