I flexed my left knee and brought my leg up behind me. Moving very slowly, I slid the knife carefully into the side of my shoe.
Barlow turned to look at me. I glared back as I lowered my foot to the floor.
The lights flickered for a second.
"What the hell's that?" Russell said.
No one answered. Had one of his guys hit some central switch by accident?
"It's the generators," Kevin Bross muttered.
"What's that?" Russell approached Bross.
"This place is powered by generators," Bross said. "One of them's probably failing. Or maybe the system just switched over from one generator to another."
Russell looked at Bross for a few seconds. "You almost sound like you know what you're talking about." Then he turned to Upton Barlow. "I like your wallet."
Barlow just stared back, his expression fierce but his eyes dancing with fear.
"Guy gives you a compliment, you say 'thank you,'" Russell said. "Where's your manners?"
"Thank you," Barlow said.
"You're quite welcome." Russell picked up the wallet, flipped it open. "What's this made out of, alligator? Crocodile?"
Barlow didn't answer.
"I'm going to say crocodile." Russell peered closely at the wallet. "Hermes," he said.
"Air-mez," Barlow corrected him.
Russell nodded. "Thank you. Why, look at this." He pulled out a black credit card. "Bucky, you ever seen one of these? A black American Express card? I don't think I've ever seen one before. Heard about 'em, but I don't think I've ever actually seen one up close and personal."
Buck approached, looked closely. "That can't be real," he said. "They don't make 'em in black." Now that he'd dropped the phony bumpkin accent, he spoke with the flat vowels of a Midwesterner.
"Sure they do," Russell said. "Friend of mine told me about it. It's one step higher than platinum, even. You can buy anything with it, I heard. Sky's the limit. Yachts, jet fighters, you name it. But you can't apply for this, my buddy told me. You only get one if you're important enough. If you're a big cheese. You a big cheese, uh-" He looked closely at the card. "Upton? That your first name, Upton?"
Barlow just stared.
Suddenly Russell had his pistol out and was pointing it at Barlow's heart.
"No!" Barlow cried. "Christ! Yes, yes, that's my first name."
"Thank you," Russell said. "Upton Barlow. Hammond Aerospace Corporation. You work for Hammond Aerospace, Upton?"
"Yes," Barlow said.
"Thank you kindly." Russell reholstered the pistol. "I've heard of Hammond Aerospace," Russell said. "You guys make airplanes, right?"
Barlow nodded.
"Probably flown in some of them," Russell said. "You make military transport planes, too, don't you?"
No one spoke.
"Been in one of those for sure. Never had one crash on me, though, so you must be doing your job. Good work, Upton."
He chuckled, low and husky, and advanced along the table to Kevin Bross. He leaned over, picked up Bross's watch. "Good God Almighty, look at this thing, Buck," he said. "Ever see a wristwatch like that?"
"Ridiculous piece of crap," Buck said.
Bross was gritting his teeth, breathing in and out slowly, trying to maintain control.
"Well, I kind of like it," Russell said.
"It's a replica," Bross said.
"Could have fooled me," Russell said, dropping it into a pocket in his vest. "Thank you, kind sir." He picked up Bross's wallet. "This isn't a…Hermиs," he said, pronouncing it right. He shook it, scattering the credit cards across the tablecloth, and picked one up. "This guy only gets a platinum," he said. "Kevin Bross," he read. "Hammond Aerospace Corporation. You all with the Hammond Aerospace Corporation, that right?"
Silence.
"You all must be here for some kind of meeting. Right?"
No one said anything.
"I saw those notebooks on the table back there," he went on. "Said something about the 'Executive Council' of the Hammond Aerospace Corporation. That's you guys-excuse me, you ladies and gentlemen-right?"
Silence.
"No need to be modest, kids," he said. "Bucky, I think we just hit the jackpot."
The lights flickered again.
PART TWO
27
The others had no idea what kind of trouble we were in.
I'm sure they figured, like I did at first, that this was just rotten luck: a rowdy bunch of hunters, lost and hungry and larcenous, had stumbled upon an opulent lodge full of rich businessmen, miles away from anything else, no cops around to stop them.
But I was sure this was something far more serious. At that point, of course, I was going on nothing more than vague suspicions and instinct.
Still, my instinct hadn't failed me yet.
Russell, the ringleader of the hunters, ordered the crew-cut one, Wayne, to go upstairs and search all the rooms. "I have a feeling we're gonna find laptops and whatchamacallits, BlackBerrys and all that good stuff upstairs," he said. "See what you can find. Anything that looks interesting."
"Yup," Wayne said. He clumped across the floor and thundered up the stairs.
"Bucky, will you please make sure none of our executives here…'forgot'…anything in their pockets? Now, I read something about opening remarks by the Chief Executive Officer. That's the boss, right? Which one of you's the boss?"
He looked around the table. No one said anything. Buck started at the far end of the table, frisking Geoff Latimer.
"Come on now, gotta be one of you guys."
Silence.
Then Cheryl spoke up. "I am."
"You're the Chief Executive Officer?" He looked skeptical, took a few steps in her direction.
Cheryl swallowed. "That's right."
"Chick like you? You're the boss?"
"Chick like me," she said. Her mouth flattened into a straight line. "Strange but true." The slightest quaver.
"A lady CEO, huh?"
"It happens," she said, a little starch returning to her voice. "Nowhere near often enough, but it happens. How can I help you, Russell?"
"So all these guys here work for you? A woman orders them around?"
Her nostrils flared. "I lead," she said. "That's not quite the same as ordering people around."
Russell grinned. "Well, that's a good point, Cheryl. A very good point. I have the same philosophy. So maybe you can tell me, Cheryl, what you're all doing in this godforsaken fishing lodge in the back of beyond."
"We're on an offsite."
"An offsite," he said slowly. "That's like-what? A meeting, sort of? Chance to get out of the office and talk, that it?"
"That's right. Now, may I say something?"
"Yes, Cheryl, you may."
"Please, just take whatever you want and leave. None of us wants any trouble. Okay?"
"That's very kind and generous of you, Cheryl," Russell said. "I think we'll do just that. Now may I ask you something?"
She nodded. Her bosom rose and felclass="underline" She was breathing hard.
"A lady CEO gets the same money as a man?" he said.
She smiled tightly. "Of course."
"Huh. And I thought I read somewhere how women CEOs only get sixty-eight cents for every dollar a man CEO gets. Well, live and learn."
Cheryl looked momentarily flummoxed. "They pay me quite well. Not as much as some other CEOs, it's true."
"Still, it ain't chump change. Bucky, what do you take home on your welding job?"
Buck looked up. "Good year, maybe thirty-eight grand."
"You make more than that, Cheryl?"
She exhaled slowly. "If you want me to apologize for the inequities of the capitalist system, you-"
"No, Cheryl, not at all. I know how the world works. I've got no beef with the capitalist system. I'm just saying you might want to spread some of that around." Now he was standing directly in front of her, only the table between them.
"Our corporate charitable contributions last year totaled-"
"That's awful nice, Cheryl. But I think you know that's not what I mean."
She looked exasperated. "I don't carry much cash, and you're taking my jewelry."