The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 (8 page)

Mahoney tapped his pen on the bench, seemingly annoyed that Alweiss had answered the question. “While I thank your lawyer for his response, Mr McDowell, it’s apparent to many people, myself included, that the level of control that your company has over the political and economic direction of this nation is far too high—”

Ernest tried to interrupt. “Sorry, Senator.”

Mahoney persisted. “I was speaking, Mr McDowell. I’d actually liken it to a man, even a large one, being crushed to death by a snake. The man is this country, your company is the snake. Though the man might be strong, he has nothing to compete with the constricting strength of the snake, ever tighter.”

Ernest knew he was in trouble. This was about more than potential illegal activities—it was a power play. Mahoney was playing for keeps, and despite his looming retirement, he had the power base in Washington to have a chance in the game. This was going to be the biggest fight of his professional life.

With Mahoney finished, another senator leaned in to her microphone. “Mr McDowell, do you have anything to say from the outset?”

“Yes, I do, actually, miss.” Ernest paused and looked at the senator’s name plate. “Sorry, Senator Woodyatt. Yes, I do.”

When the senator nodded for him to proceed, Ernest looked at Alweiss, who shook his head only a fraction. Ernest ignored it. “I find substantial levels of media ownership to be wholly compatible with the entrepreneurial spirit of this country. I started this company and it’s now a global enterprise employing thousands of Americans.

“Regardless of troubles elsewhere, I’d hoped that at home, at least, EMCorp would be welcome, yet here I sit. It’s a sad day indeed when such a committee can begin a witch hunt in such a manner. So let’s get on with it.”

Ernest sat back in his chair. Alweiss had a blank look on his face and was probably considering the weaseling he’d have to do to reverse the damage of the statement. Mahoney had an even bigger grin on his face, but the other senators seemed unconcerned. The CSPAN cameras were on Ernest and several cameras flashed.

He knew that this was going to end badly and that the committee had the power to orchestrate sweeping changes to his company. He’d seen off the EMCorp board only to run headlong into this mess. He wondered again about Michelle Dominique and her offer, before shaking his head and readying himself for the next question.

***

Michelle’s boots clicked on the red bricks as she walked to the dining hall at a brisk pace. She’d spent the afternoon doing one of her occasional lectures at Georgetown University, but a flurry of student questions had made her late for a coffee date. She hated being late. The lectures were just part of the façade of legitimacy that all of the senior staff at the Foundation had to have, but they also helped with her campaign.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of Andrei Shadd. Though he kept a respectable distance, she had no doubt that she was well protected. Given the likelihood of a second attempt on her life by Anton, she’d made a habit of having one of the Czech brothers in tow whenever she was out. The brothers were part of the dark work that the Foundation did. There was a cell in each major US state and some foreign countries, each responsible for agitation, low-level terrorism and whatever else needed doing. Beyond that, there was an investment branch that sponsored overseas subversives, and a wet squad of ex-special forces guys. The light side was a think tank, well funded and politically hyperactive. It was involved in everything from presidential campaigns to policy advocacy and research. It looked and acted every bit the legitimate organization. It also carried a lot of punch in Washington.

As she neared the door of the Leo J. O’Donovan Dining Hall, she rubbed her hands together, trying to coax some warmth back into them. She took out her cell phone, and fired off a quick text to Andrei.
I’ll need some privacy, Andrei. No interruptions unless someone hits the big red button.
A glance was all it took to see he understood. She entered the hall.

The room was abuzz with the evening undergrad rush, each seeking a slice of pizza or equally dismal fare. The tables were full with groups of students eating or doing work on their laptops. There was very little spare space, and Michelle was worried that she’d missed her appointment. She paused and looked around, then nearly jumped into the air when someone placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry.” Sarah McDowell flashed her white teeth and held out a cup. The dimples on her cheeks were pronounced and she was pleased with herself. “Couldn’t resist.”

Michelle took the coffee from Sarah with a smile and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Hey, Sarah, how’s it going?”

Sarah turned and nodded back toward the door. “Alright. Thought I’d get us some takeaways. It’s crazy in here.”

Michelle nodded. “Hey, tough break for your dad today.”

The younger woman frowned, and Michelle realized she’d need to be careful. Even though Sarah McDowell seemingly took very little interest in the professional affairs of her father and his business empire, she was still a loving and loyal daughter. Michelle risked poisoning the well of opportunity with misplaced words.

“They didn’t give him a chance.” Sarah pushed the door open and Michelle followed her outside. “He’s going to get crucified.”

Michelle glanced toward Andrei, who’d had the foresight to sit well away from the dining hall. “How many days of questioning does he have?”

Sarah brushed her blond hair behind her head. “At least a couple, his assistant tells me. Peter isn’t usually wrong.”

They walked together in silence for a few moments, past the law building and toward the center of the Georgetown campus. While parts of her plan were ticking along nicely, her efforts to recruit McDowell to her cause had been a massive failure. For now, at least. The inquiry had been hotter than she’d expected, so she retained some hope.

Sarah broke the silence. “How was your lecture?”

“It was alright. First time I’ve spoken on terrorism since my PhD, so I think I was a bit rusty. But they had an appetite for it, given everything that’s happening in China.”

Sarah nodded and frowned. “What was the gist of it?”

“Outrage about the attacks in China on one hand, the need for us to stand beside Taiwan and renew our focus on the threat of terrorism on the other. My political advisors thought it would be a good idea to get some talking points on the record.”

“Dad lost some staff over there. You must have heard.”

Michelle feigned surprise. Since meeting Sarah at a gallery opening, she’d gone to huge effort to avoid expressing much knowledge of EMCorp. Sarah knew only that she was a conservative, and involved in politics. Sarah was studying art, and they’d become decent enough friends.

“How’s that guy you’ve been seeing?”

“No good.” Sarah seemed content to leave it at that.

Michelle nodded and took a sip of her coffee. The effort to divest Sarah of her infatuation with a transfer student from the Wharton Business School had been worth it. He’d had too much husband potential for Michelle to allow the relationship to flourish. It was a shame he’d refused to take a hint, and she’d had to destroy his reputation. His promising career was now in ruins. He’d also never marry Sarah and be in the box seat for control of EMCorp. Michelle didn’t like surprises, and the boyfriend had been one of those. Her relationship with Sarah was insurance against McDowell making the wrong choices.

Ernest had waited for hours in the most modern office he’d ever seen. It had angular chairs, an odd lamp, a coffee table shaped like a lightning bolt and all manner of other visual dross. It was lucky for the manufacturers that people paid a fortune for such crap, because he figured that once the business community came to its senses, a whole lot of furniture makers would be out of a living.

He lifted his coffee, took a mouthful then placed the cup down carefully on the lightning bolt. He was tired and knew that she was deliberately making him wait, to get him off guard and angry. But he had no control, so there was no sense in a tantrum. All the delay did was give him time to reflect on the disaster the last week had been. Although the Committee clearly had an agenda and a giant axe to grind, the previous night he’d been dealt the killer blow: a call from a despondent Saul Alweiss. He hadn’t beaten around the bush—Saul had found proof within EMCorp of fresh phone hacking in the United States; it was only a matter of time before the evidence was discovered by the Senate inquiry; and if he was a religious man, he should start praying for deliverance. It made Ernest’s testimony and denials at the inquiry worthless.

Eventually the door to the office opened with a mechanical whir. Michelle Dominique walked through the door and feigned surprise. “Ernest, nice of you to visit.”

He snorted and doubted very much she’d been oblivious to his presence, but he kept the thought to himself. He had to admit that she was dressed to kill. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders in a way that made him think of Medusa and her snakes. Her white blouse and black skirt took none of the attention away from her legs, which were bound by knee-high black leather boots.

He shook her outstretched hand. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you spent the last hour dressing to distract me.”

“Hardly, you’re a married man. And I have no desire to be wife number, what is it—five?” She smirked and nodded her head in the direction of her office. “Let’s go in here.”

He said nothing as they crossed the waiting area and entered her office. Clearly she had different tastes in furniture to whoever was responsible for the waiting area, with hardwood the order of the day. He couldn’t deny that her view of the Washington Mall was spectacular as well, as she sat in a brown leather lounge chair and he sat opposite.

Her eyes were locked on to his. “I must admit I don’t have any idea why you’re here. I thought we left things fairly concrete in your hotel.”

“I’ve changed my mind about your proposal. I’m in. Limited editorial control as long as you can make my little problem go away, as you inferred.”

She laughed at him and his heart sank. “Do you make a habit of trying to revive the dead, Ernest? Strange fetish, and to each their own, I suppose. But I’m afraid our business is concluded. Events and my plans have moved on without you.”

Ernest had expected this. He’d declined her attempts to control him and his company prior to the Senate hearing, and things had only become worse since. He was now at her mercy, and would have to fight hard to secure whatever terms she deemed to give. In terms of the balance of power, he was the Japan to her United States, circa 1945, and a couple of his cities had just been nuked.

“There must be something I could do that would change your mind. I’m desperate.”

She winked. “Oh Ernest! You flatter! I’m sure that plenty of bright, beautiful young things have asked similar of you in the past, and you’ve been all too happy to take them up on it. But I’m afraid I’m not interested in old men in that way, no matter how rich.”

He ignored her jibe. “I’m prepared to offer more than you previously asked for in return for your support.”

Michelle leaned back in her seat and looked up to the ceiling. “Well, that’s a different story.”

She didn’t immediately decline, as he’d expected. Instead, she seemed to consider her next move carefully. He was anxious. The next few minutes and the direction of the conversation would change much in Ernest’s life, one way or another.

She looked back at him. “I’m still going to decline. You rejected me, put all your chips on black, and the big green zero has come up. I’ve moved on, I suggest you do the same.”

He looked at her in desperation. “The committee is going to split up my company, Ms Dominique. They’ll ruin me and tear it apart.”

She shrugged and stood. “As I said they would. Not my problem, Ernest. You had your chance, blew it, and there’s no hard feelings. But you can’t really expect me to backtrack now things have become worse for you.”

Ernest felt it all start to slip away. Decades of working to acquire, spread, fine tune and protect his media empire. Countless birthdays and anniversaries missed. Friends and relationships sacrificed. Billions of dollars of profit and loss. His empire, his life. Within days, it would be broken up and all but destroyed.

“I don’t believe for a second you’ve given up on your efforts to control my company, Ms Dominique. Not after such a fine speech in my hotel room.”

She laughed. “I was head of the debating team in college, Ernest, I say a lot of persuasive things. Having you on side would have helped, but we’ve moved past this.”

“I want the deal.”

He looked up at her and she stared back, a look of pity in her eyes. “Oh, very well. I’m prepared to offer you the same deal on my part. I will, in essence, save your behind.”

“You won’t regret it.” He exhaled loudly. “You’ve lifted a weight off my shoulders.”

“I’m not finished.” She leaned forward. “My part of the bargain hasn’t changed. Yours, however, will be very different—my price for your delay in accepting.”

He’d expected something like this, but was glad she’d listened to his pleas. “Okay. Name it and it’s yours.”

He felt some of his confidence disappear when she grinned at him. 

***

Michelle knew she had him. Sitting in front of her was a man at his most desperate. He was facing the crushing reality of the Senate inquiry going against him, and he’d do just about anything to save his company.

She needed to get him under control, but also reduce his ability to go against the agreement they were about to make. She could have asked for the beating heart of his daughter—his heir—and he might have given it up. Thankfully for Sarah McDowell, Ernest’s daughter was already under control. Michelle had other targets in mind to further reduce his options. At the same time, she had to keep up the façade of negotiation. She leaned back in her seat. He was still in the same position, as if he feared that by moving, even an inch, he’d break the tenuous chance of a deal between them and be cast adrift into the maelstrom of uncertainty.

“The deal has changed, Ernest.”

“What’re your terms, then?”

Michelle readied herself. There was a small chance that he’d be so outraged that he’d simply walk out. She doubted it though. It was a bet on his love for his company over his love for his family. With Sarah McDowell in her camp, she now needed to deal with the stock holding of Sandra Cheng. It was time to test his resolve and tighten the screws.

“You divorce your wife.”

His head shot up and his eyes flared in protest. “Divorce my wife? She’s nothing to you, a non-practicing lawyer who’s spent more time in hospital than by my side in recent months. That’s ridiculous.”

Michelle shrugged. “Those are my terms.”

She watched as he processed her words. No doubt he felt her reasons were petty, designed merely to inflict pain for his initial recalcitrance. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Michelle never relied on others, not entirely, and as soon as she’d locked her sights on EMCorp, she’d developed plans to control it, with or without Ernest McDowell. That meant befriending Sarah McDowell, removing Sandra Cheng and the Foundation buying stock of its own at the right time.

“There must be something else.” He leaned forward, desperation in his eyes. “You can’t force me to destroy my family to save my company. I don’t understand what you gain.”

Michelle was enjoying his rambling, but she had had enough. She decided it was time to push. “There are no other conditions that I’m interested in considering, Ernest. You asked for this meeting, not me, and you’re welcome to use the door over there. If you do, be sure to pass on my best to the senator and his colleagues. But if you are interested in the deal, you need to decide right now. My patience is at an end.”

His bluster disappeared and he cradled his head in his hands. “Is that really what it’s going to take?”

“Afraid so.”

He seemed to consider her terms for a long few moments, then sighed. “You’ve got a deal. Get rid of the Senate inquiry. Once they’re off my back, I’ll do what you ask.”

Michelle smiled. “I don’t like the precedent of you dictating terms, but in this case they’re fair enough. I’ll get things in motion tonight, and the inquiry should be history in a day or two. But you best hold up your end when the time comes. I think you understand the extremes to which I’m able to project my displeasure.”

“Indeed.”

“You can start with having a front page editorial in the
Standard
tomorrow, calling for America to protect Taiwan, deploy assets, recognition—all that jazz. A sign of goodwill.”

He grunted, stood and exited without another word. Now that she had him, Michelle would have to act swiftly to hold up her end of the bargain. It would have been much easier to make the Senate inquiry go away before it had convened, but now things were underway, far more drastic action was needed.

She knew that the conspiracy theorists would look back in decades to come and point at the events as an example of the power of corporate America. As usual, she mused darkly, they’d miss the point entirely. The deaths, the professional ruin, all would be orchestrated behind the scenes, with no possible link back to the Foundation.

Things were moving, and it was time for her to make her final push. Shanghai had been a success, EMCorp was in her pocket, war was looking likely and the election was soon.

There were only a few things left to do.

***

Jack stood on the observation platform high above the flight deck of the USS
George Washington
. This was one of several times in the past few days that he’d watched in awe as men and women in brightly colored vests moved without apparent pattern around the deck. Yet the more he watched, the more he saw the routine—the choreography of jets taking off and landing under careful instruction. It mesmerized him. 

Jack was only now starting to appreciate the sheer force that the carrier, with all its planes and attendant ships, allowed the United States Navy to project. He felt as if this ship would be enough to stop one nation, injured and angry, from striking at another, frightened but defiant. It really was proof that weapons built for war could help to enforce peace between nations.

The clear night sky provided the perfect backdrop for his thoughts, complete with full moon and millions of stars. The observation platform had become his second home on board the ship whenever he wasn’t working, a place where he could be alone and think. It was one of the few places on the ship where that was possible, home as it was to thousands of men and women.

Tonight, as he stared out into the night, he was grateful that nobody else was nearby. Between the roar of the jets taking off or landing every few minutes, he thought of many things. He thought of Erin, of Shanghai, of work and of life. He was proud that he’d so far managed to avoid the bottle, but didn’t like the introspection that sobriety forced. He wasn’t quite ready for the decisions that came next in many parts of his life.

He leaned on the rail for a few more minutes while his mind wandered. Then he heard the screech of the bulkhead door behind him as someone pushed it open. He involuntarily tensed at the intrusion.

“Hi, Jack. You’ve been out here for hours. I think the admiral is going to send out a search party if you don’t surface soon.”

Jack continued to stare straight ahead. He sensed her move closer, nearly close enough to touch him. Celeste stopped and settled in a spot just behind him, slightly to his left. He was glad that the roar of another plane taking off conveniently overwhelmed the awkward silence.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Probably enough to conquer some countries.”

“Mightn’t be enough though. The Chinese seem pretty pissed.”

Another pause. “Sorry, but is there something you wanted, Celeste?”

Her voice quivered slightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you what she said.”

Jack turned to face her. She was looking up at the sky. He exhaled loudly. “You’ve done nothing to be sorry for. I’ve been a dick.”

“No, you haven’t, Jack. You’re allowed to feel and act any way you want right now. Your whole world has been thrown upside down.”

He reached out and grabbed hold of her shoulders. When she didn’t look at him, he squeezed her shoulders slightly. Finally, she turned. “Celeste, I’m sorry.”

She smiled weakly and pulled away a little. “I was just checking my emails. I had one from Jo. He’s telling us to change slant on this one and ramp up the focus on Taiwanese nationalism and how important it is for the US to support it—to a ridiculous extent.”

Jack laughed. “Welcome to the company. Not often we get told which way the wind blows, but Ernest can be pretty bloody convincing.”