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It was overwhelming. Andrew gave me the tour of the mansion, and every room held more servants who greeted me and asked if I needed anything. I was offered champagne four more times before I had even taken a sip of my first glass.
Vaguely, I was annoyed by all of it. It was such a lavish lifestyle while so many people in the world went hungry. Here in the Caribbean, I knew there was terrible poverty. Yet this oasis of wealth existed for the comfort of one man.
After acknowledging it, I quickly put it out of my mind. I couldn’t control any of that. This mansion existed whether I was here or not. I had too many of my own problems to worry about without adding more onto the pile.
It became even easier to put aside my concerns when I saw my room. It was twice as large as my entire apartment back home, with cool marble floors and a magnificent view of the cove, with the Bellerophon floating majestically in the center. My complaints further melted away when the masseuse paid me a visit a few minutes later. She worked on my shoulders and neck while I sat on the balcony with a second glass of champagne, enjoying the salty breeze that blew in off the ocean.
The masseuse had strong fingers, and I felt my stress melt away.
Okay. I can get used to this.
There was just one thing that I still didn’t understand:
Pierce Benning hadn’t made a single move toward me.
10
Pierce
After a five-course welcome dinner, I met with Tristan and Andrew in my study. It was an impressive room, two stories with a domed ceiling and bookcases that rose so high that rolling ladders were spaced around the room. I settled into the single leather chair that was set apart from the rest of the furniture, while the other two chose one of the couches facing me.
“At your request, I have tightly scheduled all of your upcoming meetings for the next two days,” Tristan began while consulting his tablet. “The helicopter flight from here to San Jose is slightly less than an hour. We have chartered a second helicopter to assist in ferrying the investors here around the clock.”
“Excellent,” I replied. “When is my first meeting?”
“Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. And every two hours thereafter, until ten o’clock in the evening. The schedule is the same the day after tomorrow, except your final meeting is at four in the afternoon.”
Thirteen meetings with thirteen groups of venture capitalists. I didn’t need outside money; I was certainly wealthy enough to self-fund whatever venture I desired. But I had learned a valuable lesson in my thirty-one years on this planet: it was better to risk other peoples’ money than your own.
“How do you want to dress?” Andrew asked while making notes on his own tablet. “Silicon Valley casual? More formal?”
“Island casual,” I replied. “We’re bringing them here to my island. Might as well act the part.”
Andrew raised his stylus. “I like that plan, with two exceptions. Palmer McClintock, with the McClintock Fund, is a big exercise buff. Just finished his first Ironman triathlon. If you want to have that meeting in the gym while you work out, it might impress him.”
“Done,” I said. “And the other exception?”
“Hannah Angstrom, from Germany. My research shows that she’s a stickle for formality. I’d like to see you in a suit for that meeting—the custom Kiton two-piece. Also, she’s got a good nose for wine. I’m thinking the Jadot Le Montrachet, 2009.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Yes to the wine. The suit will be warm.”
“Only for an hour,” Andrew replied. “If you’re concerned, we can receive Angstrom here in the study, rather than on the terrace.”
I thought about it, then nodded. “Make sure the refreshments are suitable for the other investor visits, too.”
Andrew grinned and held up the tablet. “I’ve got a page of notes on every one of them.”
I flashed him a smile. Andrew was good at what he did, and I was glad to have him in my corner. Small details added up.
“Do you intend to tell the investors what you are planning next?” Tristan asked.
“I don’t intend to, no.”
“Do you intend to tell us what you are planning next?” he asked.
I smiled. “Eventually.”
Tristan looked like he wanted to complain, but he remained silent. Everyone wanted to know what I was working on next. Not just the investors and my personal assistant, but countless corporations, heads of state, and media talking heads. The longer things dragged on without any information leaking, the more desperate people became. Like hungry people who were made to wait an extra ten minutes before being seated at a restaurant. Every minute they waited, the more delicious the meal would taste.
