Transparency Charles Royce (phonics reader .TXT) 📖

“They should have food floating around, no?”

“I don’t see any.” He looks around. “Honey, you should be with me, taking pictures of me and all these—”

“Is it beautiful?”

“Yes!” Shawn pivots. “The lobby of the Center Tower is at least four stories tall. They have these huge banners of all the people they are raising money for.”

“It’s Josh’s doing again, right? Micah would be jealous.” Haylee’s voice changes. “You’re not still thinking about our conversation earlier, are you?”

“Shh.”

“Did you just shush me?”

Shawn covers the mouthpiece on the headset. “They could be listening.”

“What, now you think the FBI has bugged our phone?”

“They could have. I don’t trust anybody anymore.”

“Hey, FBI, my husband told me about a classified case involving Micah Breuer. That’s B-R-E—”

“Honey, stop. Please. I shouldn’t have told you. I’m a lawyer, you’re a therapist. Both of us are supposed to be protectors of privileged infor—”

“Honey, please. You simply asked me about Micah’s relationship with West. I was the one who asked more questions.”

“Still.” Shawn moves through the gathering crowd. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’m okay,” she answers. “Just didn’t wanna deal tonight. I hope you don’t mind. I’m not in a place to tour the building, you know? I know how excited you’ve been about the architecture.”

“It’s fine.” His voice is downtrodden.

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“I don’t know, honey, I don’t get a good feeling about this. Josh is AWOL. People are walking around like robots. It doesn’t have the right energy.”

“Oh, no, here we go.”

“I’m not kidding,” Shawn says.

“I get it. It’s that godforsaken company. And here you are worried about the FBI bugging your cell phone.”

“True.”

“You know, before Micah left, he and I had some great conversations. He was petrified of some of the people at Élan. Sure, he may have gotten involved a little too deep, but he got out. He even left the entire country to get away from all of it, for crying out loud. Couldn’t deal with the lies, the cover-ups, the surveillance. He said he even caught people following him.”

“You told me. And now the Josh thing. No trace of him.”

“Then are you still worried about Micah’s involvement? In a company he never trusted?”

“I guess you’re right.” Shawn grabs a shrimp from the tray of a floating server. “Right?”

“Baby, the source of everyone’s problems is that company. You never know what they’re capable of.”

In the periphery, Shawn sees a group of photographers rush toward the VIP area, just as the former vice president emerges with his wife, along with what looks like two bodyguards.

Pamela stands beside them in her tight red dress, on her phone, smiling.

C h a p t e r   5 3

“THANKS, PAMELA. I’M on my way.” West looks in the full-length mirror, turns to the side. “Just make sure he stays in the building.”

He hangs up.

Dressed in a black suit, West comes out of his closet into the bedroom. He drapes a red tie over his shoulders.

The thick wooden door to the bedroom is closed. The walls are covered with large family photos of his children at different ages. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels sits next to the table lamp on the bedside nightstand, obscuring a framed photo of West and his wife.

Josh is strapped to the bed with zip ties.

West reaches into the valet tray on his dresser, pushes away the SSD, two black flash drives, an iPhone, and a pill bottle to reveal his cuff links. He turns on the iPhone.

“Lots of stuff in your pockets, Josh,” West says. He picks up the SSD. “Where’d you get this key?”

“You mean Micah’s key?”

“Looks like somebody fashioned it into a drive. Someone stealing company secrets? Handing it off to a measly event planner? Nice try.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

West looks at the FBI phone.

“Funny how no one has been calling or texting you on the day of your biggest event.” West pushes his cufflinks through the holes in his sleeves. “Except an unknown number once or twice. Weird. Don’t you think?”

“Fuck you.” Josh spits in his direction.

“In cahoots with the FBI. You know, Josh, I trusted you. I needed you to help me tonight. But now? After what you did?”

“You still need me there. You know you do.”

“Ha!” West pulls his jacket over his sleeves. “You were my strongest West Way protégé. You hired the best. I think we have it covered.”

Josh thrashes his restraints over and over, causing the black iron bed to bump against the walls with sequential clangs.

“Go ahead. No one can hear you.” West points around the room, then knocks on the walls. “Exterior wall, soundproof.”

“Help!” Josh screams toward the window, his heart pounding. “Help! Somebody. Help!”

Just as he’s about to faint, Josh feels one of his leg grips break lose.

“Keep going,” West says. “Scream all you want.”

Josh feels himself about to lose consciousness. “My pills. Mr. West, please. I have a condition. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Your Xanax? Nah, there will be no illegal drugs here, my friend.”

“Illegal?” Josh can barely see. “Fuck you. I need them!”

Through his haze, he can see West taking a bottle of pills to the bathroom. He hears a flush.

“No!” Josh screams. He bangs the bed hard against the wall. “Help! Please!”

“Just in case.” West takes a handkerchief out of his breast pocket, rolls it into a ball. “This is so you won’t be screaming when my driver puts a bullet through your neck.”

“What?” Josh jerks on the restraints again. “Mr. West, what about your wife and kids?”

He shoves the handkerchief in Josh’s mouth. “They left me last week.”

Just as West grabs a rolls of duct tape, Josh flops across the bed, using his free leg to kick West as hard as he can muster.

West falls against the wall, dislodging a photo of his children. It falls to the floor.

Josh sits back up, spits out his gag.

A complete and utter calm comes over his face.

He is assured, his breath steady.

“I hired the best because I am the best,” he says. “You? You hire people because you can’t