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just as urgently as the remaining Tristar personnel.”

The two men held each other’s gaze for a moment.

Hall held up the file. “Is this everything you have on Tristar?”

Buchanan paused, momentarily considering whether he should mention the stolen intel from Tristar’s servers. But he decided against it.

“It is,” he said. “Like I said, we want to help you out if we can.”

“I see. And what will GlobaTech want in return?”

Buchanan shook his head. “I don’t follow…”

“You’re offering your hard-earned information to a competitor out of the goodness of your heart and want nothing from us?”

“I’m sorry. How exactly are we competitors?”

“Orion and GlobaTech are cut from the same cloth, Mr. Buchanan. Both started small and grew to become giants of industry.”

“Yes, but very different industries.”

“Well, we’re both in private security, right?” said Hall, smirking and gesturing to the file.

Buchanan smiled back. “A fact you learned only moments ago, apparently. Besides, Tristar and GlobaTech aren’t exactly competitors.”

“How so?”

“We are much, much bigger.”

Buchanan continued to smile. Hall’s expression hardened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Buchanan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Quincy, if there’s something you’re not telling me that might help resolve the Tristar issue faster, I would be grateful if you shared.”

Hall stood, almost leaping to his feet. His body tensed. The folder crinkled in his grip.

“You know what your problem is, Moses?” he spat.

Buchanan held his hands up and shrugged. “Enlighten me, Quincy.”

“You have ideas above your station. You’re arrogant. You think you’re invincible.”

“Well, I don’t… I’m not… and we basically privatized the U.N., so yeah… maybe a little bit.”

Hall laughed scornfully. “Oh, Mr. Buchanan, you have no idea what game you’re playing here.”

“Then tell me.”

Hall used the folder to point at Buchanan. “This is your only warning. GlobaTech will, with immediate effect, cease all efforts to apprehend Tristar personnel and seize Tristar assets. Orion International will deal with this matter in-house.”

“And what exactly are you going to do? I doubt your news anchors will be able to track down the missing director. What was his name? Brandon Crow? We can help.”

“I don’t need your help.” Hall looked him up and down, his face contorted with disgust. “You would do well to keep your nose out of other people’s affairs. Hell, you of all people have no business dealing with people on my level anyway.”

Buchanan slowly got to his feet, resting his fists on his desk. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Mr. Hall? Me of all people…”

Hall wavered for a moment but stood his ground. “Well, I mean, look at you. You’re not a CEO. You’re not a businessman. You’re… what? A retired grunt who walked into the wrong room at the goddamn plantation. It shouldn’t be allowed, if you ask me. Now you will stop investigating Tristar, or you will be sorry.”

Buchanan had dealt with racism his entire life. He rarely encountered it anymore and with good reason. But a line had just been crossed.

“Yeah? And why’s that?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Because GlobaTech is still just a big fish in a small pond. I could buy you five times over and still have change. You don’t want Orion as an enemy. Trust me.”

Buchanan moved to the side of his desk. “No, what I want is for you to get the hell out of my office before my black foot finds its way up your bigoted, white ass.”

Hall’s thin lips curled into a sneer. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life. Mark my words, Mr. Buchanan—this isn’t over.”

He turned and ripped the door open, then marched through it without looking back. A moment later, Kim appeared in the doorway. Buchanan looked over at her, still standing beside his desk, his fists still clenched. His jaw muscles ached from gritting his teeth.

“Is… is everything okay?” she asked.

He sat back down behind his desk and picked up the pen. “Never better.”

4

May 2, 2020

Jericho rode in the passenger seat of the Humvee, silent and weary, staring out the window at the unfamiliar landscape. He had seen much of the world. It was a blessing and a curse; he rarely had time to enjoy any of the places he had been. But he had never been to Paluga.

Roughly the same size as Samoa but with twice as many people, Paluga teemed with society without feeling overpopulated. It joined the United Nations in 1981 but had remained a quiet nation on the world stage. Not known for its tourism, Paluga instead contributed to the global economy by exporting silk and marijuana.

Jericho’s plane had touched down at the airport on a secluded runway at dawn. The thirteen-hour flight had allowed for some rest but had mostly been spent going over reports, preparing for the overwhelming task he was faced with. He was greeted by GlobaTech personnel already on the ground and hustled into the Humvee before he had time to take in a breath of fresh, warm air.

The drive to the presidential palace in the capital region took a couple of hours. Having spent half a day on a plane and lost four hours of his life crossing time zones, Jericho was doing all he could to not show his irritation.

The man driving turned to him. “We’re about twenty minutes out, sir.”

Jericho looked over. “Thanks, um…”

“Miller, sir.”

“Miller. Right. How long have you been with GlobaTech?”

“Coming up on three years, sir. I came up through the academy in Santa Clarita. Applied the day after 4/17.”

Jericho nodded admirably. “And before that?”

Miller shrugged. “Some security work. Nightclub doors, personal security… nothing intense or high profile.”

“Nothing military?”

Miller shook his head. “No, sir.”

Jericho knew how good the academy was. He had helped Josh Winters fine-tune some of the training in the early days, after 4/17. Their recruitment process and standard of soldier rivaled that of any military he had encountered.

“Okay, Miller. I’m likely going to be here a while, so let’s clear something up. GlobaTech is a company, not the military. While we have our own private armed forces, I’m your boss,

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