Once Is Never Enough Page 8

  “I’m more into Pilates.”

  Flynn picked up a spork. “I could take this spork and open your carotid artery, but I wouldn’t want to ruin lunch for everyone. So, for now, I’ll let you live.” Flynn offered her one of his patented charming grins. “Perhaps I’ll even be able to turn you once I get to know you better and show you the error of your ways.”

  Bettina was simultaneously terrified and strangely turned on. She blushed. Something she hadn’t done since junior high.

  Nurse Durkin clip-clopped into the cafeteria, saw Flynn, and barked across the room at him. “Mr. Flynn, Dr. Nickelson would like to see you.”

  “N?”

  “Dump your lunch and get a move on, mister. The doctor doesn’t have all day.”

  Flynn poked his head into the anteroom outside N’s office, pleased to see Miss Honeywell typing away on a computer keyboard.

  “Miss Honeywell.” Flynn’s voice was full of affection for N’s buxom, fifty-something, African American administrative assistant. He perched himself on the edge of her desk and smiled down at her. “Looking luscious as always.”

  “Take a seat, Mr. Flynn. He’ll be with you shortly.”

  “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

  “And I would love you to get your butt off my desk and sit your ass down over there.”

  “I do like a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.”

  “And I like a man who does what he’s told and shuts the hell up about it.” She pointed at the sofa and Flynn sat his ass down. She went back to typing.

  “Do you have any idea what this is about?”

  “I do not,” Honeywell said. “But the Doctor does have a visitor and I believe it might have something to do with you.”

  “Can you say who the visitor is?”

  “I can, but I won’t, so you’re just going to have to wait.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you forever, Honeywell.”

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Why would I? Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  “Tell that to my ex.”

  “Clearly he was a fool and you deserve so much more. You know that, don’t you?”

  Honeywell looked up at him. “If you were an employee here, you’d be out on the street, fired for sexual harassment by now. You know that, right?”

  “Sexual harassment?”

  “This is not 1965, Mr. Flynn. I know you don’t know any better, but you need to get a clue. You can’t just hit on every single female you run into.”

  “I’m just being friendly and perhaps a little flirtatious, but if you prefer we maintain a more business-like relationship, I can accommodate that.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I promise.”

  “You are a dog, Mr. Flynn. A player to the first degree.”

  “I do like to play.”

  “That’s what they say. Players play. Now put a sock in it so I can get some work done here.”

  Flynn pretended to zip his lip and fifteen minutes later, the door to N’s office opened and Nickelson beckoned him in.

  Flynn stood, winked at Honeywell, and walked in to find that N did indeed have a guest; a tall blonde in a black Armani business suit that fit her slender body perfectly. Her shoulders were naturally broad. Flynn deduced she was once an athlete. She carried herself with confidence and appeared to be in her early thirties. Her ash-blonde hair fell to her shoulders and framed a face that could have easily appeared on the cover of Vogue. Much of her beauty came from her strength and the fearlessness in her ice-blue eyes.

  “I’d like you to meet Ms. Severina Angelli.”

  “Severina, please.”

  “Delighted. Please call me James.”

  “She works for Mr. Sergei Belenki,” Nickelson explained.

  “Belenki, yes, the high-tech billionaire. Founder of the Blinky Social Network and the CTO of the Electro Go car company.”

  “And the man whose life you saved a little over a year ago,” Severina added.

  “I did what anyone would do.”

  “That I doubt. He has not forgotten what you did for him and because of that he’d like to offer you a proposition.”

  Flynn raised a flirty eyebrow. “What sort of proposition?”

  “Perhaps he should tell you himself.” She slid a tablet computer from a large briefcase and pushed a button to initiate a Blinky Face-to-Face call. The tablet was so large Severina needed to hold it with two hands. Within seconds Sergei Belenki’s large bearded face filled the screen.

  “Sergei?”

  “Hello Severina.”

  “I have Mr. Flynn.”

  “James, please,” Flynn insisted.

  Severina turned the tablet towards Flynn and held it head high so Flynn could look directly into Sergei’s eyes. Flynn remembered him well from the incident on Angel Island. It was Belenki’s custom Boeing 737 that Goolardo highjacked when he kidnapped the ten richest men in the world from Randall Beckner’s annual masters of the universe conference.

  Belenki was the youngest billionaire there. Born in Russia, his parents brought him to the U.S. when he was seven. He earned a bachelor’s degree in mathematics at UCLA, a master’s in computer science at Stanford, and a PhD in advanced computer intelligence at MIT. At six feet tall, he was slightly shorter than Flynn, but taller than most of the other billionaires kidnapped that day. Flynn saved them all and he remembered that Belenki spent most of that time crying.

  “It is good to see you, sir,” Belenki said. “Much better circumstances than the last time.”

  “That was quite a plane ride. I hope I didn’t do too much damage to your 737.”

  “Nothing that couldn’t be repaired.”

  “So, what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I saw you on YouTube. That attack at the mall.”

  “Goolardo is a determined man.”

  “And so are you apparently as once again you saved the day.”

  “Though regrettably, Goolardo got away.”

  “Nevertheless, it was good to see you in action again and it gave me an idea. This year has been very difficult for me, as Severina can attest to.”

  Flynn couldn’t see Severina’s reaction to that since she was holding the tablet with Sergei’s face directly in front of her own. “Difficult in what way?” Flynn queried.

  “Blinky, my social networking platform, has created some problems for me. A foreign power took advantage of vulnerabilities in our system and used Blinky to sway the American electorate in the last election.”

  “I heard about that,” Flynn said.

  “I had to attend congressional hearings and testify before the House Intelligence Committee.”

  “And those vulnerabilities? Have you fixed the problem?”

  “The problem is inherent in our system. Much like criminals take advantage of our freedoms to play games with our legal system, these foreign nationals used the freedom and functionality built into Blinky to spread disinformation and propaganda.”

  “I’d like to help you if I could, but the skills necessary to solve that problem are far beyond my purview. Besides, even if I could, hasn’t that horse already left the barn?”

  “It has, yes, and that’s the issue. After that congressional hearing, the FBI came knocking. They demanded all my raw data. At first, I refused as I take the privacy of my users very seriously.”

  “Though you do occasionally sell it those who can profit off it.”

  “We don’t sell the raw data to advertisers,” Severina said, inserting herself into the conversation. “However, we do use the information that consumers provide to help advertisers target ads to a specific audience.”

  “Knowledge is power,” Flynn said.

  “And in this case, the FBI wanted that power.” Belenki leaned into the camera, filling the frame with his bristly face. “They wanted what those foreign nationals stole and everything else I had on them.”

  “I’m assuming you�
��re talking Russian nationals?”

  “Yes. The FBI issued a subpoena and offered me a proffer. I either had to cooperate with their investigation or Blinky would face oppressive multibillion-dollar fines and catastrophic regulations. So, I agreed to give them that data and I did it gladly, but covertly. No one could ever know, and they agreed to that. They agreed to keep my company’s cooperation top secret. Part of what we gave them was apparently information on how and where the Russian mob launders their money.”

  “And there isn’t much difference between the Russian mob and the Russian Federation at this point, is there?” Flynn pointed out.

  “No there isn’t,” Belenki agreed.

  “I suspect your cooperation with the FBI didn’t stay secret.”

  “No, some hacker got his hands on the proffer and put it out on Openleaks for everyone to see.”

  “Do you know who?”

  “It could be anyone. An anti-capitalist anarchist. A disgruntled employee. A business rival. A man as successful as I am has a lot of enemies.”

  “And now, I assume the Russian mob wants to make an example of you.”

  “Sadly, I believe they do.”

  “It’s likely the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood. They are prominent in the banking sector and launder trillions for the oligarchs as they operate under the direct protection of the FSB.”

  “You see, this is why I need your help. You know things.”

  “A man as wealthy as you? Surely, you have expert protection.”

  “Do you remember Mr. Harper?”

  “The head of security on Angel Island? He’s former Delta Force, is he not?”

  “Yes, and he’s brought on a large team and they’re all former special forces. But I worry that he and his detail might not see every threat headed my way. I need someone who operates outside predictable parameters. Someone who can anticipate the unexpected. Someone like you.”

  “But I’m not a free agent. I work for N.”

  “Which is why we came to him first.” Severina moved the tablet away from her face so she could look Flynn in the eye. “We are prepared to pay you very well for your time. A million dollars for a few weeks of work.”

  “I was obligated to let you hear their proposition,” Nickelson explained. “Our attorneys told me if I kept this proffer from you, we could very well be held liable for lost income. However, I can’t in good conscience recommend that you accept Mr. Belenki’s generous offer. Perhaps at some point in the future, but at the moment I do believe it’s better for you to remain here.”

  “We would also be willing to donate a similar amount in kind to your…facility,” Belenki stated.

  “That’s very generous of you, sir, and we would appreciate any donation you’d like to make at any time. However, I’m afraid I still can’t give James my approval.”

  “He’s using me as bait, you see, to lure in Francisco Goolardo.”

  “What?” Nickelson looked surprised.

  “You can deny it, sir, but I know how you think. In your own stoic way, you’re as ruthless as I am.”

  “You think Goolardo would come here?”

  “He already sent an assassin here undercover as a patient, but now that I’ve outed her, he will have no choice but to come himself, and this time I’m sure he’ll come in force.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying what you’re saying. This is where we will make our stand. No matter how many killers he brings with him, whatever weapons they wield, we will all fight to the death if necessary.”

  Nickelson looked stricken. Flynn was surprised by that.

  “That is your plan, is it not?”

  “Perhaps I’ve been too hasty in my assessment of Mr. Belenki’s offer.” A few beads of sweat popped up on Nickelson’s forehead. “After all, one day you will leave here, and that kind of money could come in very handy.”

  “That’s true,” Flynn admitted.

  “And if Mr. Belenki has a large, well-trained, heavily armed security force, perhaps you’d be better off working in concert with them.”

  “That does make sense, sir. Not everyone here at headquarters is operational.”

  “If you were to go, however, I would insist that someone from here accompanies you.”

  “And we would be glad to compensate them as well,” Severina said. “Very well.”

  “Sancho and I are a good team.” Flynn aimed his gaze at Nickelson. “I’d like to bring him with if that’s all right?”

  “If Sancho wants to go, I wouldn’t object, but I may send someone else with you as well. Someone with a little more…experience.”

  “I’ll leave that decision up to you, sir,” Flynn said.

  “Good. Then it’s decided.” Belenki’s voice took on an authoritative tone. “Severina will arrange transportation for this Friday, and I suggest that Mr. Flynn and anyone accompanying him bring formal wear as there will be a charity event on the night of their arrival. Black tie only.”

  “I look forward to it,” Flynn said.

  Belenki grinned. “Thank you, Mr. Flynn.”

  “James, please.”

  “Yes, James. See you soon.”

  Belenki signed off and his face disappeared from the screen. Severina returned the tablet to her briefcase. “All right then. This Friday morning we’ll be flying out of Burbank Airport on Mr. Belenki’s private jet. I’ll send a limo to pick you up promptly at nine.” She nodded to Nickelson and offered Flynn a rare smile. “Until then.”

  Chapter Nine

  In 1914, Railroad mogul, Henry Huntington, opened the most luxurious hotel in San Marino. He promoted The Huntington Hotel as a winter resort to millionaires, entertainers, and political figures from the Midwest and East Coast, looking to bask in the California sunshine. Later it became a Sheraton and then a Ritz and finally a Langham.

  The Langham Hospitality group was originally an English company but was purchased by the Great Eagle Hospitality Group of Hong Kong in 1995. Ironically, the Huntington family employed more than ten thousand Chinese immigrants to lay the most treacherous part of their transcontinental railroad through the Sierra. Now the Chinese owned the very hotel that was built with money made from their backbreaking labor; a perfect illustration of the Buddhist concept of Karma.

  Severina argued with Sergei Belenki from her luxurious suite in San Marino’s Langham Hotel. The tablet lay propped against a paisley pillow on an elegant red crushed-velvet chaise longue. Her boss looked irritated, but Severina wasn’t a yes-woman or an ass-kisser and she told him exactly what she thought.

  “He’s delusional. He has no real training and his grip on reality isn’t just tenuous, it’s non-existent.”

  “Yes, but you haven’t seen him in action,” Belenki said.

  “I saw the video from the mall, and he was lucky. He attacked them with a squirt gun!”

  “Filled with bleach.”

  “Sir, this is your life we’re talking about here. Do you really want to put it in the hands of a mental patient?”

  “If it wasn’t for Mr. Flynn, I wouldn’t be alive right now. I wouldn’t be talking to you. And you wouldn’t be working for me making whatever it is I pay you to do whatever it is you do.”

  “Before I joined Blinky, I had seven-figure offers from Apple, Google, Cisco, and Salesforce. But I honestly believe you are a visionary and that’s why I work for you. Why I’m proud to work for you. And why I want to protect you.”

  “I have Mr. Harper and his army of special ops soldiers protecting me, Severina. Flynn would just be an additional layer of security.”

  “I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “I’ve made my fortune doing things other men would never attempt or even dream of attempting. Taking chances like that requires a leap of faith. Early on, few venture capitalists were willing to take that leap. Those who did are now worth billions. Many who didn’t are still angry with me. Speaking of which, did you settle that suit with Meisner?”

  “Not y
et, but we’re close.”

  “He’s an irrational man and always has been.”

  “As part of the settlement, I’m insisting on a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “Andy’s a perfect example of someone afraid to take that leap. And now he blames me for his lack of backbone. Don’t be like my former partner. Don’t be like Andrew Meisner. Take a leap of faith with me, Severina.”

  “I will. I am. But I wouldn’t be earning my salary if I didn’t express my reservations.”

  “And I appreciate your honesty, but I’ve made up my mind.”

  Belenki’s disembodied head disappeared as he ended the call.

  Severina sighed.

  Sancho wondered what Dr. Nickelson could possibly want. He sat on Nickelson’s slightly saggy couch, waited patiently, and watched as the senior psychiatrist at City of Roses finished up some paperwork.

  “I apologize, Mr. Perez, but Ms. Honeywell insists she needs these signatures.”

  Ms. Honeywell stood right next to him, watching to make sure he signed each and every page.

  Sancho worried that Nurse Durkin was talking shit about him again. She probably told Nickelson that he was shirking his duties to bullshit with Flynn. What was her problem? She had to be the nastiest woman ever. She would have made a damn scary nun.

  He spent two years in parochial school and some of those nuns were brutal as hell. Smacking him on the back of the head. Pulling him by the ear. Whacking him on the knuckles with a ruler. Those nuns were always in such a shitty mood. Just like Durkin. Unsmiling. Glowering. Ready to blow her top at any moment. She especially had it in for Flynn. Something about him just set her off. It didn’t help that all the other nurses thought he was hot as hell.

  Nickelson finished signing his paperwork and handed the stack to Honeywell, who offered a curt, “Thank you, sir,” before walking out the door.

  Nickelson raised his gaze to Sancho, who immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t know what Nurse Durkin’s been saying about me, sir, but I’m just trying to do my best here. James likes talking to me and I don’t want to be rude or put him off or make him feel like I don’t care about him, ‘cause I do. We have a connection and I don’t know what Nurse Durkin’s problem is with him, but I just want to say that I think he’s doing really well.”