of various locations within the Tower. At the far end of the space, the silhouette of a tall man rose from behind an immense desk and Jake felt a shudder of anticipation.
“Over here,” a commanding voice said.
Jake approached the man, his footsteps silent on the carpet. As he closed the distance between them, a column of soft white light illuminated the desk area. He passed a dais upon which had been erected a three-foot-tall model of the Tower. At last he reached the desk, made of polished obsidian.
Where’s Old Nick?
Right here
.
Nicholas Tower stood over six feet tall and the seventy-six-year-old man appeared to be in remarkable condition. His white hair, parted at the side, may have needed a trim, but it bore no resemblance to the unruly mane depicted on the infamous
Time
magazine cover. He wore a polyester suit identical to the uniforms of his security guards.
“I’m Nicholas Tower.” The old man’s voice radiated confidence as he offered his right hand.
“Jake Helman.” Jake shook the hand, as surprised by the old man’s strength as he was by the smooth texture of his flesh. A pale film covered Tower’s left eye, so Jake focused on his right eye, which reflected the blue light of the monitors. “It’s an honor.”
Tower released Jake’s hand and gestured to the single chair before his desk. “Have a seat.”
Jake eased himself into the chair and Tower sat across from him, a flat computer screen to his right. The black surface of the volcanic glass desk reflected the images from the monitors behind Jake, and a pair of gold doors gleamed in the darkness behind Tower.
Why aren’t there any windows?
Jake wondered, crossing his legs. The old man didn’t need to worry about sniper fire this high up. Was his bad eye sensitive to sunlight?
“The Tower is the hub of my empire,” Tower said without a trace of irony. “I’m changing the course of the world from right here.” He tapped the desktop with one finger. “You saw the chromophobes downstairs?”
Jake nodded. “They’re hard to miss.”
“The media dismiss the Anti-Cloning Creationist League as some harmless, grassroots organization exercising its right to free speech. I know better. Have you heard of RAGE?”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “The Righteous against Genetic Engineering. A secret, quasi-terrorist organization operating from somewhere in the Bible Belt.”
Tower smiled with one side of his mouth. “The ACCL is the legitimate, fund-raising arm of RAGE, and RAGE wishes to destroy me and this company. They’ve made several threats against this building and they’re camped right outside its front doors.”
Jake had never heard of a link between the ACCL and RAGE before. “Sounds like a job for the FBI or Homeland Security.”
Tower leaned back in his seat. “In retaliation against me for opposing the Anti-Cloning Act, the president’s ordered his attorney general to file anti-trust charges against me. They don’t like that I dominate the market I helped create. So I can hardly turn to the federal government for protection. I prefer to handle my security needs internally, which is why I’ve called you here today. I fired my last director of security for sympathizing with those Luddites downstairs and now I need to replace him. I think you fit the bill.”
Jack set his foot back on the floor. “I don’t have any experience in executive protection.”
Tapping the keyboard before him, Tower glanced at the computer screen. “You’ve had antiterrorist training, haven’t you?”
Jake nodded. “I served on the HERCULES assault team for six months before I was assigned to the Street Narcotics Apprehension Program. I also took mandatory refresher courses every three years.”
“And you spent another six months on the previous mayor’s security detail.”
“True.”
“I see you were orphaned as an infant.”
Jake’s body tensed. Just how deeply had Tower researched his background? “Yes.”
“Tragic.” Tower
“Over here,” a commanding voice said.
Jake approached the man, his footsteps silent on the carpet. As he closed the distance between them, a column of soft white light illuminated the desk area. He passed a dais upon which had been erected a three-foot-tall model of the Tower. At last he reached the desk, made of polished obsidian.
Where’s Old Nick?
Right here
.
Nicholas Tower stood over six feet tall and the seventy-six-year-old man appeared to be in remarkable condition. His white hair, parted at the side, may have needed a trim, but it bore no resemblance to the unruly mane depicted on the infamous
Time
magazine cover. He wore a polyester suit identical to the uniforms of his security guards.
“I’m Nicholas Tower.” The old man’s voice radiated confidence as he offered his right hand.
“Jake Helman.” Jake shook the hand, as surprised by the old man’s strength as he was by the smooth texture of his flesh. A pale film covered Tower’s left eye, so Jake focused on his right eye, which reflected the blue light of the monitors. “It’s an honor.”
Tower released Jake’s hand and gestured to the single chair before his desk. “Have a seat.”
Jake eased himself into the chair and Tower sat across from him, a flat computer screen to his right. The black surface of the volcanic glass desk reflected the images from the monitors behind Jake, and a pair of gold doors gleamed in the darkness behind Tower.
Why aren’t there any windows?
Jake wondered, crossing his legs. The old man didn’t need to worry about sniper fire this high up. Was his bad eye sensitive to sunlight?
“The Tower is the hub of my empire,” Tower said without a trace of irony. “I’m changing the course of the world from right here.” He tapped the desktop with one finger. “You saw the chromophobes downstairs?”
Jake nodded. “They’re hard to miss.”
“The media dismiss the Anti-Cloning Creationist League as some harmless, grassroots organization exercising its right to free speech. I know better. Have you heard of RAGE?”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “The Righteous against Genetic Engineering. A secret, quasi-terrorist organization operating from somewhere in the Bible Belt.”
Tower smiled with one side of his mouth. “The ACCL is the legitimate, fund-raising arm of RAGE, and RAGE wishes to destroy me and this company. They’ve made several threats against this building and they’re camped right outside its front doors.”
Jake had never heard of a link between the ACCL and RAGE before. “Sounds like a job for the FBI or Homeland Security.”
Tower leaned back in his seat. “In retaliation against me for opposing the Anti-Cloning Act, the president’s ordered his attorney general to file anti-trust charges against me. They don’t like that I dominate the market I helped create. So I can hardly turn to the federal government for protection. I prefer to handle my security needs internally, which is why I’ve called you here today. I fired my last director of security for sympathizing with those Luddites downstairs and now I need to replace him. I think you fit the bill.”
Jack set his foot back on the floor. “I don’t have any experience in executive protection.”
Tapping the keyboard before him, Tower glanced at the computer screen. “You’ve had antiterrorist training, haven’t you?”
Jake nodded. “I served on the HERCULES assault team for six months before I was assigned to the Street Narcotics Apprehension Program. I also took mandatory refresher courses every three years.”
“And you spent another six months on the previous mayor’s security detail.”
“True.”
“I see you were orphaned as an infant.”
Jake’s body tensed. Just how deeply had Tower researched his background? “Yes.”
“Tragic.” Tower
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