Jerry put his hands out wide and waited for an answer.
Bernard's lips creased. He knew exactly where the money was. He'd taken over a billion from the men in the room. His intentions hadn't changed since he conceived the plan. Some of the money had gone to finding new deposits in the ground in South Australia. That was no cheap venture, either. It was time intensive, and the people who did that kind of work were highly paid. Still, that left Bernard with a large sum left over. He considered it an entry fee for the other men in the room, a way of paying dues to a membership that would give them incredible returns.
Now they were challenging him and his plan. Shortsighted fools. He'd known it would eventually come to this. Unlike the other men at the table, Bernard always thought two or three steps ahead, keeping his focus on the long game.
"As I was saying," Bernard finally spoke, "we will be able to negotiate for the land in the next forty-eight hours, although it could take up to a week before the preparations can be made. I think we can all agree that a week is not much time to wait when it comes to the tens of billions you will reap from this venture."
"He can't answer the question," Jerry said, ignoring Bernard's spiel. "You know what I think, Bernard? I think you stole our money. And now it's sitting somewhere in the world with no way for us to get it back."
Jerry was an instigator, an irritating flea itching the dog. Were they somewhere else — a dark alley, perhaps — Bernard would shoot the idiot in the face and leave his body in a dumpster. The thought caused a brief moment of pleasure as Bernard considered the irony of a billionaire's dead body in a heap of garbage. An assassination, however, wasn't an option. Bernard kept his composure, though, because he already had a plan for Jerry — and for the rest of the men in the room.
"Your money is safe, Jerry. All of your money is safe," he said to the others. "If you would like to get it back, all you have to do is tell me, and we will abandon the entire operation."
Several of the men grumbled, suggesting that was exactly what they wanted. One at the other end of the table in a corner seat spoke up. He was younger, in his midforties, with cropped black hair and a sharp jaw. "What about the money you spent on research and all that? I suppose we just take the loss?"
"No," Bernard shook his head. "I'll absorb that."
Surprised expressions washed over the room like the wave at a football game.
Jerry remained unimpressed. "That's very generous of you, Bernard. But I think we can all agree that Mr. Bernard has worn out his welcome as the chairman of this board. The decisions he's made over the last year have been reckless and imprudent to the finances of this company. The mere fact that he is willing to give up on this wild scheme of his shows that he is not committed to the company and its shareholders."
Most of the men nodded and voiced agreement to the statement.
"I believe," Jerry went on, "it is time we name a new chairman."
Bernard didn't hear any protests coming from the men in the room. They were unanimous in their thoughts. He knew they would be. It was all part of his plan.
"Very well," Bernard said. "If you want me to step down as chairman, I will. It is clear that our vision for this company and its future projects are not on the same track. I can accept that. I will resign effective immediately, and you can choose a new chairman."
"What about our money?" the old man said.
"You'll get your money. It will take me a day to get the transactions arranged and have it sent back into your accounts. I trust none of the information has changed?"
No one said anything, which meant it hadn't.
"Good. I'll begin the transfers in the morning."
Jerry stared at Bernard with suspicion. "How do we know you're not just going to leave the country with our money, disappear somewhere?"
Bernard cocked his head to the side and shot him a look like the guy was nuts. "Honestly, Jerry? Where am I going to go that a room full of billionaires couldn't find me? With all your resources, I'm sure there's nowhere I could go."
Jerry didn't say a thing. He actually grinned at the comment, probably because he knew it was true. It was remarkable what a few billion dollars could get.
"Gentleman, I apologize that this hasn't worked out. It's getting late. If you have no further business, I'd like to go ahead and retire for the evening. It seems tomorrow morning has a good deal of activities that will require my attention."
One by one, some of the other men stood up and stepped away from the table. They filed out of the room and walked slowly down the hall to where two brass elevator doors waited. Jerry was the last to leave. He fired a sinister look at Bernard as if to say, "Got you."
Bernard hung his head for a moment, feigning despair.
Down the hall, the two elevator doors opened, and the men stepped on board. Bernard drifted out into the hall and watched as the last of them entered the lift.
"Do you want to ride down with us, Bernard?" one of them offered.
"No," he waved a dismissive hand. "It would be awkward."
The guy shrugged and let go of the button holding the elevator in place. The brass doors closed on both lifts. Bernard took a step toward the end of the hall and watched. Something shook the building for a second, like a small explosion. A sharp screeching sound came from the two elevators as the emergency brakes engaged. Bernard glanced down at his $50,000 watch and then heard the next sequence of bangs as the brakes were blown one by one.
He imagined the men in the lifts had taken a collective breath when the brakes momentarily saved their lives. He couldn't hear their screams as the elevators plummeted to the bottom of the shafts, but he knew that's what was happening. An enormous crash rocked the building as the two lifts hit the ground after dropping nearly twenty-seven stories. Everyone inside the elevators would be dead, most killed instantly on impact. Maybe one or two had miraculously survived, though it was doubtful.
Bernard spun around and walked casually back to his corner office overlooking the city. He'd give it ten minutes or so before he made his way to the elevators to begin his act.
Normally in a meeting like this, there would have been several assistants or secretaries sitting in the proceedings. If that had been the case, the execution wouldn't have been possible. So Bernard requested the meeting be kept private. That meant only the board, no one else.
The security guard on duty had — no doubt — already responded to the emergency. Within the next few minutes, he'd make his way down to the basement and discover the wreckage of two crushed elevators.
It would be called an act of terrorism.
As chairman of the board, Bernard would call for swift justice for the villains responsible for such a horrific act. He would attend all the funerals, possibly even speak at some of them.
Tedious? Certainly. He cringed at the thought of all the time he'd have to waste in the coming weeks.
Time, however, was exactly what he'd just bought. And now he had full control of everything.
Chapter 20
"Reports are coming in now that there may be as many as twelve deaths in the horrific incident that authorities are now calling a terrorist attack. Two elevators were bombed in a downtown Sydney office building earlier this evening. Experts say that these elevators had security measures built in to stop the cars in case of an emergency, but for some reason the brakes failed. Investigators are on the scene, but it's unclear when we will have any answers."