Chasing the White Lion James Hannibal (essential reading TXT) 📖

ante. At the end, the house will take the ten million, or 25 percent of your earnings, whichever is higher.”

A ranking list appeared at the bottom of the screen—four panthers, the two leopards, the Hyena, the Maltese Tiger, and the White Lion. The Maltese Tiger line remained blank. The others each had a dollar sign and a string of zeros. A link symbol joined Panthers Eight One and Eight Two, Val and Talia.

“Mergers are acceptable, as two of our new panthers have demonstrated, but partners must split their profits fifty-fifty, and only one player may hold each position. Greater profits can earn you a top-tier rank for the coming year and a bigger piece of the Jungle pie. Even my position is up for grabs, if you dare to chase me.” The lion paused in his pacing to face the viewers. His lion lips curled into a smile. “And on that topic, there is one more rule. Don’t get eaten.”

The video switched from the lion to the security feed of a penthouse office with a glass floor. A man in a business suit stood behind the desk with his back to the camera, looking out over the city.

“Boyd,” Talia said, resisting the urge to reach toward the screen. “So he is here.”

“Or was.” Val glanced out at the night beyond the suite’s windows and back to the screen. “This was filmed earlier. Look at the coloring in the sky. The sun had barely set.”

The lion confirmed her assessment. “One of our players attempted an early start to the game, posing as a utility worker. I allowed him to make it as far as my office.”

A man entered the scene wearing a maintenance jumpsuit and wielding a gun. The camera angle gave a clear view of his face.

“Eddie . . .” Talia prompted.

“On it. Stand by.”

There was no sound, but the fake worker gestured and shouted at Boyd, who refused to turn.

“Got him,” Eddie said. “That’s arms dealer Riku Ishimoto, one of last year’s top panthers. I guess this explains why he didn’t show for his time slot.”

Talia shot a look at Val. “And now we know he wasn’t killed at the compound.”

Riku advanced. A third figure—a bear of a man—swept in from off camera and emptied a high-caliber handgun into his body. Boyd never turned from the window. The screen switched back to the lion. “A shame. Panther Six Eight was a good earner. But such is the circle of life.” A voice in the background whispered Kill or be killed, the law of the Jungle. “Be warned. You are all fair game. If mergers are acceptable, so are hostile takeovers.”

In the rankings, the zeros on the White Lion’s line rolled down to negative ten million dollars. Those lost millions reappeared beside Panther Six Eight, and the dead panther’s line turned red. The word FINAL appeared beside it.

The lion reappeared. “I killed Panther Six Eight—a hostile takeover—so I must cover his ten-million-dollar ante. However, once you’ve all made more than ten million, takeovers become more lucrative. You keep your kill’s earnings, minus the ante. Those are the rules.”

He went on to explain the Frenzy’s endgame, a lavish party called the Grand Bazaar. There, in a final race to make the biggest deals, the surviving players would hock their illicit wares to high-end buyers.

The digital slates would guide Talia and Val to and from the Grand Bazaar to prepare their merchant bays. All other movement left them at the mercy of the maze and their competitors. But the lion warned against hiding in the room. “Cowering in your den will guarantee a loss. The biggest deals happen at the Grand Bazaar party. There are six of you and only three merchant bays. First come. First served.” He paused for the echoing voices.

Kill or be killed, the law of the Jungle.

“Good luck. Let the Frenzy begin.”

CHAPTER

SIXTY-

FIVE

WESTERN TOWER

TWIN TIGERS COMPLEX

BANGKOK, THAILAND

A GREENLIGHTFLASHEDONTHESUITE’SDESK—a button labeled PRESSME. Talia did as it requested, and two touchscreen panels rose from the desktop, canting to an angle. Data windows popped up on the screens.

“Those are resources.” Val joined her at the desk, watching over her shoulder as she flipped through the menus. “Tyler, we’ve hit the jackpot. We have access to every animal in the Jungle syndicate. No names, but locations, activity, and Dark Web messaging. The Frenzy players can wield them like troops on the battlefield.”

“Good,” Tyler said. “We can use the intel to lean on Boyd once we have him.”

“Sure. Or that.” Val gently moved Talia aside in a this is my domain sort of way. She stretched out her fingers and wiggled them over the panels. “But think of the damage I could do.”

Talia shot her a frown. “To Boyd or to pocketbooks worldwide.”

“Both.”

“Okay, you’re cut off. Stay away from the toys.”

“Leave her,” Tyler said. “This is what Val does best, and the clock is ticking. You two need to show progress soon or Boyd will get suspicious.”

A look at the scores, left on the TVs after the lion’s video, told her he was right. Atan and the Clouded Leopard already had money on the board. The White Lion had covered seven million of his ten-million-dollar deficit. Talia and Val needed to keep up with the field to maintain their cover, especially with Boyd’s big bear running around out there—the one who had killed Riku Ishimoto.

Talia backed off. “Fine. Just make sure she sends all the money to the proper accounts.”

She heard laughter in the background of the comms. Tyler chuckled too. “I will. While she works, I need you to head out into the maze.”

“To do what?”

“To do what panthers do best. Get out there and hunt some prey.”

TALIA’S GLASS SLATE SERVED SEVERAL FUNCTIONS. After the White Lion’s introduction, half the screen had lit up with a Frenzy chat room, including boxes for private messaging and a disturbing game FAQ.

Using the private chat function, cooperating players had the option of sending one another room invites, complete with directions. Otherwise