Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (20 page)

“Dr. Reiser,” the captain said, breaking from his conversation and marching over to them.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Sergeant Major Keith Noll,” Reiser acknowledged, turning to greet the pilot.

“It’s a pleasure to have you all onboard,” Noll said, halting beside his colleague and assuming a staunch, upright stance, his hands clasped formally behind his back.

“Sergeant major?” Danny said, a little puzzled. “I’ve heard of ex-military taking civilian jobs as chauffeurs to the rich and famous before, but never a sergeant major. Dr. Reiser here must pay better than I thought.”

“Yes, yes—very well. Jon,” Noll said, turning his attention to Reiser and all but ignoring Danny’s remark. “We’re set for departure if our guests wish to proceed with boarding. However, if I may, could I have a word with you in private?”

Visibly annoyed, Reiser motioned the group up the steps toward the entrance of the passenger cabin. “Go on in and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be in shortly.”

Once onboard, the group took a moment to survey the plane’s luxurious accommodations before laying claim to their respective spots in the compartment’s plush interior.

“I’ve gotta tell ya, kids,” Link said, dropping down into a leather recliner beside the main common area. “I’ve done first class before, and believe me… this is a whole new level of style.”

“Aye,” Hamish agreed, stuffing his bag into an overhead storage bin. “I could most definitely get used to this.”

“Wonder what the story is between those two,” Mac said of the noticeable friction between Reiser and Noll as she took a seat next to Lee on the sofa.

“You picked up on that too, huh?” he replied.

She nodded. “How could you not? But I—”

“Seriously!” Danny blurted in disbelief beside them.

Startled, Lee and Mac leaned around him to see Link emerge from the wet bar with what appeared to be a very old bottle of bourbon.

“What?” Link said blankly.

“It’s 11 o’clock in the frickin’ morning!” Danny argued.

“Oh lay off, Crockett. As you’re so fond of pointing out, I work for one of the single most prestigious firms in Atlanta, and even I don’t travel in digs this sweet. So excuse me for wanting to take in the whole experience here. Besides,” he grunted, inspecting the bottle’s label. “This guy probably has another half a dozen of these stashed around here somewhere, so it’s not like he’s gonna miss it.”

Danny shook his head and sat back on the sofa. “Couth, midget. Look it up.”

“I’ll send you a memo when I decide to give a crap!”

As the others settled in for takeoff, Reiser eventually found his way onboard ahead of Noll, who proceeded directly to the cockpit, though not without another cold stare at the group, which Lee found incredibly odd. Everyone else had been so wonderfully cordial and welcoming and yet this man acted as if he couldn’t care less about their being here.

“I see Mr. Baxter had no problem taking me at my word to make himself at home,” Reiser chuckled, spying the open bottle on the bar.

Embarrassed, Lee frowned.

“It’s alright,” the doctor assured him. Then, retrieving the bourbon from Link, he filled another five glasses, passed them around, and raised his to the others. “Allow me to propose a toast: To cherished friendships of years past, present, and future. May we all make history… together. Ruah?”

“
Ruah!
” the group exclaimed in classic, Auran military form.

As the high-pitched hum of the jet’s engines built to a steady roar outside, Lee sat back in his seat while the vibrating cabin around him quickly gave way to the smooth, gliding sensation of free flight. Once they were airborne and underway, he glanced to his right to peer out the window, though instead he found Mac, smiling beside him—her glass raised again, but this time to his alone.

“To having the band back together,” she said—her expression warm and soulful, just as he’d always remembered it.

“No place in the world I’d rather be,” he responded, and clinked his glass to hers.

Chapter 11: Spoils

Several hours later, the Gulfstream broke through the clear, blue horizon of its west coast destination and touched down on the private airstrip outside the Phoenix Gaming Company’s main campus—a vast expanse of mostly wilderness located some 40 miles south of the San Diego city limits.

Emerging from the passenger cabin once the plane came to a stop, Lee dropped his bag on the pavement and took a moment to survey the lush, natural landscape of the nearly 200-acre property. Surrounded by tall, rolling hills, countless rows of windswept trees, and layer after layer of finely pruned shrubbery across a pristinely manicured lawn, the scene epitomized how he’d always heard California described—green and breathtaking.

By contrast, however, the main PGC building—an aging four-story structure with clouded, stock windows, sun-spotted shingles, and a weather-stained stucco exterior that had probably been white during the Reagan administration—was anything but impressive.

“Not exactly what you were expecting?” Reiser asked, stepping off the plane and spotting Lee’s confused expression.

“Suppose not,” Lee answered. “Don’t get me wrong, this is a real beautiful campus you’ve got here—really. But given your company’s cutting-edge reputation…” He tilted his head. “I dunno. I guess I was just expectin’ something a little more… modern, I guess.”

Reiser flashed a tenuous smile. “I’m flattered that you’d have such lofty expectations for my office,” he laughed, causing Lee to wonder if maybe he’d missed a joke somewhere. “Don’t worry. Everybody has that response when they arrive here. Because of our recent success with
Mako
, they fail to remember that PGC began from quite literally nothing as a company, and in many ways, this campus—antiquated as it may be—serves as a monument to the countless hours of hard work and dedication that went into making it what it is today.”

“Rememberin’ your roots,” Lee noted.

“Precisely,” Reiser agreed as the others filed out of the plane behind them. “No one denies PGC’s potential for future growth, but we like the fact that we’ve remained true to our identity as being more of a family than a business.”

“Sounds like you go pretty far back with a lot of the folks here,” said Lee, drawing another odd look of reflection from his host.

“Longer than most know,” said Reiser. “With the exception of some of the people in legal and accounting, I’ve known everyone on my staff for years; and I’ll never work with anyone else. For a great many reasons, they all shared my vision of what
Mako Assault
was supposed to be, and we never lost sight of that. So while you may find PGC’s buildings themselves to be a bit lacking, I think you’ll find the campus itself to be quite indicative of our culture here.”

“Ever consider moving into a new place?” Danny asked, dropping his suitcase next to Lee’s duffel. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve gotta build an orbital space station or anything, although you certainly have the money to do it if you wanted to.”

“Not everything in life is about money, Mr. Tucker,” said Reiser, drawing a mild look of incredulity from Danny. “On the contrary, sometimes getting paid is the last reason why we do what we do. But if it makes you feel any better,” he added with a sly grin, “we keep our spaceship in the basement, so maybe we’ll do the orbital tour later.”

Amused, Lee collected his things and followed Reiser through the gate as the others trailed behind him. Once inside, it was easy to see what the man had meant about PGC’s culture as a company. Strolling along a stony walkway into the yard, he observed a pair of men sitting opposite each other at a long, wooden picnic table, deeply engrossed in discussion over tablet computers and brown-bag lunches. Behind them, a third man sat propped against a massive oak tree—an industry journal in one hand and a hot cup of tea in the other—while across the lawn, a middle-aged woman with long, silvery hair led a yoga class beside a pond.

“Check it out, Lee, they’ve even got their own driving range,” Link piped up, pointing to a trio of golfers headed for a covered platform by the hangar. “You up for a bucket of balls later? My mid-range game totally needs some work.”

This drew an audible snort from Hamish. “So not a sport,” he grumbled.

“Dude,” Link objected. “Your people practically invented the friggin’ game. You of all people should have an appreciation for that.”

Hamish disregarded him with a wave.

“Older building or not, your employees seem to get a pretty good perks package outta this deal,” Lee noted, walking alongside his host toward the main building.

“I won’t lie to you,” said Reiser, “
Mako
was a massive undertaking—unlike anything that any of us had ever programmed. You have no idea of the man hours that went into making that project what it was, so from a business standpoint, it only made sense to create this kind of holistic job culture for my employees. Out here we’ve got the rec and leisure area, where a lot of people like to spend their break time playing sports or just relaxing. Inside, we offer a full exercise room, kitchen area, daycare service for those with families, and even temporary lodging for anyone who gets stuck pulling an all-nighter.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you guys are a family, were you?” Mac added, watching a pair of squirrels scamper past a painter’s easel ahead.

“Honestly, Miss McKinsey, when you’ve sacrificed as much as this group has in order to do something great, you as the employer feel almost obligated to give them everything you can out of gratitude for their endeavors.”

“Hey Doc, how about passing that little nugget of appreciation on to my boss back in Atlanta?” Link scoffed. “I work 80-plus hours a week and my sphincter clinches when I even think about asking that tightwad putz for a raise, much less a hoops court or some artsy-fartsy reading area where I can chill out on the rare days when I actually get a lunch break.”

Reiser wrinkled his nose and adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Baxter, considering the size of the check that my company cut to retain your services for the next few days, I’d dare say you’ll get a little more respect from your firm when you return.”

Then, halting at the building’s main entrance, Lee watched as the doctor produced an electronic keycard from his coat pocket and swiped it through the access panel beside the door. Following him down a taupe hallway, the group rounded a corner into the main lobby, where a young brunette receptionist sat up straight behind her computer terminal, jotting feverishly on a notepad to keep pace with the phone conversation in her headset.

“Yes sir, I’ll let him know,” she concluded, reaching for her earpiece. “And to you as well… goodbye.”

“Hi Tori,” Reiser called before halting at her desk. “I presume I didn’t miss much while I was away?”

“Just the usual, doctor,” the brunette said, swiveling around in her chair to greet them with a cheerful white smile framed by light pink lipstick. “I take it your trip went well?”

“Extremely well, thank you. Everyone, this is my personal assistant, Tori Page. She’s been with me for years and to be perfectly honest,” Reiser chuckled, “I don’t know if I could even find my socks anymore without her.”

Tori blushed. “Your socks are no problem, sir. Your social security number, on the other hand? Well… that’s a different story, but that’s why you pay me the big bucks, right?”

Reiser gave a warm nod. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re paid enough, Tori. But thank you.”

“No problem, sir,” she said. “Oh, that was Mr. Blackburn down in accounting. He and Mr. Reeves would like to discuss the quarterly figures with you when you get a chance.”

Reiser frowned. “I’ve got a mountain of work waiting for me in the lab, but will do. Anything else?”

“Yes sir,” Tori continued, handing him a yellow file folder containing the day’s agenda. “Ken and Jeff from
Gamer-Prime Magazine
want to do lunch sometime soon to talk about that piece they’re putting together for
Mako 2.0
. They’re out of town next week for the TZR Expo in Minneapolis, but any time after that is fine.”

Thumbing through the folder’s contents for any noteworthy piece of news that might require his immediate attention, Reiser glanced up to see a woman in blue scrubs and a white lab coat exit the hall to his right, scribbling on a tablet. Slim and athletic, with fair skin and striking red hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked to be somewhere in her early to mid-30s. Spotting Reiser, she turned and headed for the lobby.

“Ah, Dr. Reynolds. You’re just in time,” Reiser exclaimed, snapping the folder closed and dropping it to his side. “I’d like you to meet our record-breaking team from Florida. This is Dr. Lee Summerston, a history professor at Layne State College; Lincoln Baxter, a prominent attorney from Atlanta; Evelyn McKinsey and Hamish Lunley, both independent business owners; and—”

“Daniel Tucker,” he said, sliding through the group to extend a hand—his expression shifted like clockwork to the trademarked smile of warm, collected confidence that each of them had seen on more than one occasion. “Hi.”

“And here we go,” Mac murmured through the light groans around her.

Taken a little off guard by his forwardness, the redhead regarded him with a curious stare—her brilliant blue eyes fixed on him with a look that seemed to convey both bewilderment and annoyance.

“Dr. Madisyn Reynolds,” she said awkwardly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tucker.”

“It’s Danny,” he corrected, taking her hand in a gentle, but firm caress. “And believe me, Madisyn… the pleasure is all mine.”

“
Ahem
…
douchebag
,” Link coughed.

Withholding her response, Reynolds regarded Danny for a long moment after that, studying him from head to toe, like some sort of flawed equation just begging to be picked apart. Not for an instant did she seem impressed—not by his trendy clothes or his rehearsed smile, and definitely not by his supposedly infectious charm. Moreover, if that flat expression on her porcelain face was any indication, she wasn’t hiding it either, and as the awkward silence hung in the air like a frosty morning chill, Lee thought he could actually hear fingernails on a chalkboard somewhere in the distance.