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Chase got the feeling that people had stopped talking to Gillen like a human being a long time ago. He tried a different tack.
“You have me beat by thirty minutes.” He hoisted his beer at the CEO. “And a few billion. Maybe I should set my alarm earlier. Sounds like that half hour makes a big difference.”
Gillen took another look at Chase, chuckling as he sized him up, suddenly curious, engaged. “Why doyouwake up so early?” he asked.
It was a genuine question, so Chase gave a genuine answer. “To prep the battlefield.”
Intrigued now, Gillen turned to face Chase.
“For what exactly?”
“I don’t know, but an early wake-up is a small price to pay for vigilance.” He nodded at Gillen. “Or innovation.”
The CEO grew animated. “After breakfast, I have a session of deep work—an uninterrupted period of focused concentration. I get into a flow state. That’s where I solve the world’s problems,” he said with a grin. “I take a break, have lunch, go for a run, and then another afternoon session of deep work.”
Chase sighed. “That sounds pretty great. With my schedule, I couldn’t—”
Gillen cut him off. “I run my schedule. My schedule doesn’t run me.”
Chase sipped his drink and nodded. “Says the man isolating himself at his own party.”
Gillen faced the room again. “Which he hates.”
It came as a surprise to Chase when Shay came home months later with an offer from Gillen himself that FIRST assess Avalon Park.
Chase did his due diligence, reading company and magazine profiles of the daring entrepreneur as well as watching interviews, all routinely portraying Gillen as a maverick who enjoyed bucking the system for the sake of the greater good. Those icy eyes gazed at him from the covers ofForbes,Fast Company, and theEconomist,but Gillen was notoriously private, and the information was infuriatingly thin.
I run my schedule. My schedule doesn’t run me,he had said.
Chase asked Shay for her thoughts on the CEO, but she couldn’t give a solid answer. The man was either true to the vision he professed or exceptionally good at delivering the talking points his PR firm provided. “Either way,” she said, “he pays handsomely.”
Alex Teague, Avalon Communications’ chief security officer, made it obvious that he didn’t appreciate the idea of an outsider scrutinizing Avalon assets. The CSO did his best to turn a perfunctory phone interview into an interrogation, but Shay had prepped Chase well, and his hire was a foregone conclusion. Teague was smart enough to realize that when the CEO of a global technology giant makes a suggestion, it’s not really a suggestion.
As he approached Avalon Headquarters now, Chase realized he hadn’t actually seen Miles Gillen in person since the ball.
This time, Chase was throwing the party.
In his crisp suit, worn with an open-collared shirt and an air of belonging, Chase bluffed his way past lobby security. None of the tech idealists who populated Avalon’s ranks challenged him at all. Chase rode the elevator to its highest access point, but the top floor where Gillen and his executive assistant worked was secured. He ducked into the stairwell and climbed upward.
Time for a little covert entry.
Avalon Headquarters may be bright and shiny on the outside, but the spine of the building was the same as any other, and it was subject to building codes. The egress side couldn’t be equipped with a latch or lock that required the use of a tool or key. On the ingress side, he gambled that even Avalon hadn’t upgraded the stairwells; few in the high-rise likely ever used them except during mandatory fire drills.
He was right. No keypads or badge readers—just a simple lock to pick. Building codes and other people’s complacency had kept Chase in business for years.
He would have to point out this vulnerability to Gillen. Right after he told him about the mysterious caller demanding a $100 million ransom. Which would probably be right before the CEO fired him.
He slipped into a hallway on the top floor. He passed a restroom and rounded the corner into the elevator bay, which seemed to stretch the entirety of the floor. But it was an illusion. Most of the partitions were actually glass. He knew Gillen believed in corporate transparency, but this was taking things a bit too literally. Now that Chase had rounded the corner, he’d be spotted by the receptionist.
He straightened, smoothed the front of his suit, smiled his most winning smile, and marched straight toward her.
The receptionist was stationed at a desk in front of a pair of frosted-glass doors. She didn’t look much older than Madison.
Great, thought Chase,young people love me.
That notion evaporated the second she lifted her eyes. He could practically feel her glare boring twin holes through him.
“Good morning,” boomed Chase.
