The Auction (4 page)

Chapter Four

“Foster, are you sure you want to do this?” Dare’s holographic image paced from side to side.

“Can you think of a better way? Just being wealthy isn’t sufficient to get into an organization like this. You need connections and references.”

“Yes, but you swore off that life. There has to be another way. If we put our heads together we can come up with something.”

“Don’t you think I’ve run different scenarios in my head? There’s no other way. I know these types of people.”

“What’s your plan when you learn who she’s been sold to? I seriously doubt her buyer will willingly hand her over.”

“I’ll figure it out when I see her. Look, I appreciate your offer of help but I need to do this alone so as not to draw suspicion my way. If any of the proprietors get wind of me being on a rescue mission, bad things can happen. These are dangerous people and no amount of wealth and influence can save me.”

“And that’s exactly why you need some backup.”

“Dare, this isn’t your battle. Let me handle it. I know what I’m doing.”

“This is my business. Granted, I’m not invested in whether this girl is found or not, but my woman is. And if she’s unhappy, so am I. So for her, I’m offering you any kind of assistance I’m able to give.”

“I appreciate it, but the best thing you can do for me if to keep an ear out for anything you hear on the outside. You have plenty of contacts, powerful ones with lots of secrets. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of our public officials are involved. It would explain why this organization has been able to cover their tracks so well. Dare, these are the types of people you don’t want to be involved with.”

“But you’re willing to.”

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it”

His friend sighed heavily, expression stern. “Just watch out for yourself.”

Foster grinned. “Careful, O’Shaughnessy, you’re going to actually make me think you care.”

Dare glared. “Fuck you.”

Foster chuckled. “That’s the Dare I know. I have to sign off now, my two o’clock will be here shortly.”

Dare raised a surprised brow.
“I’m surprised you’re actually in your office today. You’re going to end up ruining your playboy reputation.”

Foster took his friend’s good-natured ribbing in stride.
“Never that. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Sounds good.”

Foster pressed the side button on his holowatch, making his friend’s image disappear. Dare was the only
friend
who knew a litt
le about his past, but not much, just that Foster used to be involved in illegal activities.
And then there were those who were
fully aware of what Foster had once been involved in but were
too scared to speak of it
because of fear from
retaliation or for incriminating themselves.
Foster had never fully opened up to Dare about his past because t
here were some things better left unsaid.

Over the past several years, Foster had done his best to cultivate an image that most people found pleasant. He said the right things, attended the right parties, rubbed elbows with the right people. His one vice was the women which most people expected of a good looking man of wealth. M
any
thought of him a playboy who coasted through like without a care in the world never lifting a finger to maintain the corporation built by his grandfather.

Foster
didn’t have to work another day of his life if he didn’t want to, but he chose to handle
all
business matters behind the scenes. Foster believed this was for the best. He figured if people saw him as someone content to spend his money without taking anything seriously, they could view him as non-threatening. The alternative was not a path he’d intended to go down again. Until now.

The thought of immersing himself in a world he’d left behind made him shake. Several questions ran through his mind. Would he run into old contacts? Would he have to do things he swore off? But most of all, would he like it? Foster pressed a button beneath his desk, making the drink panel appear. A tumbler full of bourbon, an ice bucket and an empty glass popped up. With unsteady hands, he fixed himself a drink before downing it in one gulp, hoping it would steady his nerves. When he was younger, it was a given that he’d eventually take over the family business, although it never occurred to him exactly what it all entailed. He’d never forget when he
found out
.

“
Foster,
you’re thirteen years old today. That’s practically a man. And as a man, you’re entitled to know the truth. Your father may want to coddle you for the rest of your life, but if you want to survive in this world, you’re going to have to grow a pair.” Andrew Graham stared at his grandson with steely blue eyes that seemed cold and calculating.

Though Foster adored his grandfather, who was always generous with his gifts and made allowances for him that his
parents
wouldn’t, he was also a bit frightened of him as well. His larger than life grand
father, with a brash manner that
demanded respect, often said whatever was on his mind regardless of whether the other person would like it or not. A self-made man
who had clawed his way from
poverty to become one of the wealthiest men in the city, he didn’t play along with society’s rules, refusing to participate in any of its niceties. He would sooner blow cigar smoke in a person’s face than shake his hand if he didn’t like him. Foster always admired that about his grandfather and wanted to be more like him. He could never understand why his father didn’t seem thrilled about the prospect of him bonding with his grandfather, though Foster could never remember a time when the two adult men in his life got along. It almost seemed like they simply tolerated one another.

Even though it was apparent his father didn’t approve of Foster’s relationship with his grandfather
, he never interfered in their relationship. While he was in awe of his grandfather, Foster still had a decent relationship with his father, who tried to instill in him the importance of putting his best foot forward and being responsible.

Once they were in his grandfather’
s chauffeur
-driven car, Foster could barely contain his excitement. It was a rare treat to spend this time with him. “Where are we going, Granddad?”

“Like I said, I’m going to show you our business.”

“But Dad has taken me to the bank before. It was kind of boring.” The Grahams owned banks all along the coast, which was no small feat considering they were
n’t
as old as many of the chains that had a history which dated back to the twentieth century.

“Of course
it was
because your father would rather keep you in the dark than to tell you about your heritage. I blame myself for why your father is so soft. I wanted to give him the things I didn’t grow up with. I indulged him, so he took this life he was born in for granted and doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. Apparently he wants to do the same to you but I see too much of myself in you. You’re not like your father. I know you’re strong enough to handle what I plan on showing you.”

Foster hoped he could live up to his grandfather’s expectations. So when the car stopped in front of one the main branches of Graham’s Bank, he couldn’t hide his disappointment. His grandfather must have noticed because he chuckled. Andrew patted Foster on the knee. “The first rule of business is to never take anything at face value. Sometimes there’s more than meets the eye.” Foster sulked all the way inside the building. Once the employees noticed them, they sat up at attention and pasted smiles on their faces.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham,” echoed throughout the halls as they greeted the man who could end their means of making a living and send them to the slums if he so chose. For his part Andrew, walked with his head held high, accepting the effusive acknowledgments as his due. Seeing how respected and revered his grandfather was made Foster puff his chest out a bit. Sure, his father was treated respectfully whenever he made an appearance at the bank, but not quite on a level of this magnitude.

The security guards who shadowed them backed away at Andrew’s signal once they made it to the elevators. Foster thought they’d go to the top floor where all executive offices were housed, but his grandfather punched in a series of numbers on the keypad which took them to the thirteenth floor. That number hadn’t been on the panel.

Foster frowned and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask his grandfather the meaning, but the older man held up his hand, silencing him. He walked silently, following the older man down a long dark corridor until they reached another elevator. This time, they went down. Once there his grandfather took them to a large room, sparse of furniture. Two large men in all black with shoulders so broad they seemed to go from wall to wall stood by the door.

“Is he here?” Andrew asked one of the men as he shrugged out of his suit jacket. He handed it over to the closest one to him.

“Yes and he’s all ready for interrogation.”

“Good. Come on, Foster. Time to see what you’re made of.”

As they walked further into the room, Foster noticed several hooks hanging from the ceiling and
a number of
knives on the wall, all different shapes and sizes. There were also whips and chains a
n
d what looked to be weapons used by enforcers.

Foster couldn’t wrap his head around why
these items would be in a bank or what purpose this secret room served
. What he saw next made his heart beat faster. There was a man tied to a chair in the corner of the room.
A large wound was on th
e side of his head that dripped with blood. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his lip was busted. If it weren’t for the man’s gasps for air, Foster would have been certain that he was dead. Foster bit his tongue hard to hold back a gasp.

“Addison, the brass knuckles please.” Andrew rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

The tallest of the two men in black grabbed the requested item off the wall and handed it to his boss.

Foster watched in horror and amazement as his grandfather slipped the instrument over his fingers and flexed as he stalked over to the injured man. “Yo
u see Foster, the bank is
diverse in its activities. We don’t only loan, invest and transfer credits. We’re also heavily into collections. You’re about to witness firsthand the collection portion of our business.” He smirked down at the unresponsive man. “Phillips, wake the fuck up. I know you’re just pretending.”

The broken man raised his head. A tear ran down his cheek from his good eye. “Please, Mr. Graham, I’ll pay you back, every single credit. I just need a little more time.”

“What kind of fool do you take me for? I’ve been more than generous already. I gave you an extra week and you played me for an idiot. You tried to skip out of town, didn’t you? We both know I’ll never see that money again because you blew it gambling. Seeing how I won’t be recouping my money, you’ll have to pay me another way.”

“Please, I have a family to feed. I’ll do anything!” The man pleaded.

“Were you thinking about your family when you were spending credits on back alley dice games and cheap women in brothels? And before you deny it, I have eyes everywhere and even if I didn’t I know your type. You see, I grew up with people like you, always making excuses instead of making things happen for
themselves
.”

“Then why did you lend me the money?” The man glared at Andrew through his one good eye in an act of defiance.

Without missing a beat, Andrew slammed his fist into the victim’s jaw. Foster winced when he heard a loud crack. That had to have broken his face. The man let out a pathetic whimper because he probably wasn’t able to release a proper scream.

“Looks like I’m going to have to see if his organs are salvageable. I could probably get a return on what I let this punk borrow and make a little profit. Give me the scanner.” He held out his hand waiting for one of his men to comply.

This time Foster couldn’t hold back his gasp. Kill him? If someone would have told him he was about to witness a murder,
committed
by his grandfather no less, he would have called them a liar. He’d never seen a dead person before besides watching shows on
holovision
or looking at pictures during his history lessons. His hands began to shake and he wanted to run away but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. He pinched himself to see if he’d awake from this nightmare before him. Foster had heard whispers about an underworld within their community, crime syndicates run by people who presented a respectable front. Hidden behind their perfect masks was something no one talked about in polite company.

With scanner in hand, his grandfather moved the infrared light over the man’s body. It beeped several times before Andrew seemed satisfied with the results. With a grim expression, he read the results on the device’s monitor. “Hmm, the liver is no damn good, neither are the kidneys but I can still salvage the heart and lungs.” He clicked the scanner off and handed it to one of his men before turning to Foster.”