AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The most noticeable thing about the newcomer was the scar across his face, inconsistent with being a man of deeds and conveyances, although not necessarily ruling it out. Red, raised and puckered, this defect bisected the otherwise bland features. The scar held no intelligence, only bore mute witness to an event which was outside the ordinary of conference rooms and papers. The eyes which observed the world from above this ruin, however, held more than their fair share of acute intellect. And they were focused entirely on him.
Aleksey had known many kinds of people in his long life. Some had been just useful tools, brutal men created by vicious lives. Often childhood victims of terrible abuse, alcoholism or neglect, they gravitated towards jobs which gave them the illusion of power through the infliction of misery on others. They made useful camp guards. Then there were the intellectuals, those who knew exactly what they were doing but could justify and rationalise anything with slick arguments and quick wits. They made good administrators of camps. Sometimes, he’d met visionaries and martyrs—those who wanted to lead, change, improve, and these were usually the most destructive. They came trailing clouds of glory but left millions starving and ruined behind them in those murky wakes. Good intentions and a streak of the divine rarely survive the weaknesses of greed, betrayal and envy.
And then there were people like him, who were more difficult to categorise. They held all these traits—brutality, intelligence, divinity—and lived the internal battles these warring sides of their nature created: fractals, constantly churning. But he had been healed—or temporarily stuck together with Harry Black, anyway. And who had done this? It was clear this scarred man had not met his Ben Rider yet. He was still on the other side of recovery. Or, it was also possible, hehadassembled into a final shape—and that this was it.
They only held glances for a few moments. He was sure Ben would see nothing of what had passed between them. But Ben had not grown up reading men—those arrivals in the snow with grinning bear-hugs for him; the vodka; the drugs; and then what had come after. There was a whole book read and understood by both of them in that one quick observation.
As Ben sat down by his side at the central table, Aleksey wished now he had not encouraged Ben to come with him. He had wanted to flaunt him—or more precisely, displayhistrue nature to these family lawyers, for he knew his message would get back and be understood by the one he hated—I have it all now: freedom and wealth with no constraints. Of course, as these were not the duchy associates he knew, it was possible they assumed Ben actually was his financial advisor. He’d told them, for a joke, that he was bringing one. But he didn’t think Mr Scar made this error. In fact, he was fairly sure the silent, deceptively placid man knew more about his affairs—of the heart or otherwise—than he liked.
He brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand, put on his glasses, and took the offered papers to read. When he was done, he nodded, but as the lawyer retrieved the file, he asked with studied casualness, ‘A gagging order attached? That is a little crass, no?’
‘We felt it necessary, given the unique circumstances.’
‘What does it cover exactly?’
‘Any mention in public, mostly but not limited to social media, of the purchase of La Luz, its previous owner, or anything you find on the island.’
‘Anything we find on the island?’ He could feel Ben’s curiosity piqued, as was his. Treasure? Bodies? Pirates? The possibilities seemed endless.
‘Well, yes, any state of disrepair or damage. You are signing blind; we are aware of this, but Her Royal Highness informed us that you would have no objection to such a measure—that secrecy was not something with which you were unfamiliar.’
She was good, his ex…the old MAD balance of power being so delicately introduced to the deal. Still, he’d stiffed them for millions on the price, so fair was fair.
He signed both the sale agreement and the gagging order, taking care with his hyphens which he valued greatly, and slid the papers and the beautiful Montblanc fountain pen that had come with them over to Ben.
Ben signed both too. His hyphens weren’t as neat. Aleksey made a mental note to point this out.
‘So, we are done?’
‘We are indeed.’
‘We are free to go?’
For the first time, the scarred man spoke. ‘Did you feel as if you were under arrest, Sir Nikolas?’
Aleksey leaned back in his chair, pondering the best way to handle that insult. So much voiced in so few words—you’re a liar, a deceiver, and a criminal were the easy slurs to decipher.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
‘Simon Raiden.’
Aleksey smiled pleasantly. ‘My name is now Aleksey Rider-Mikkelsen.’
He saw something flicker behind the pale blue eyes and reconsidered his first assumption. Apparently this did come as a surprise, and the Sir Nikolas had not been intended to provoke. Interesting.
They stood and it was over.
As they were walking back to the car, Ben glanced behind him. ‘Car windscreen or bullet? Fire?’
Aleksey snorted. Trust Ben to be thinking about the scar.
“He reminded me of someone.”
“Who?”
Ben shrugged. “Someone I used to know.” He poked him gently in the ribs in case he hadn’t got it. Aleksey didn’t need the elaboration. He’d seen the similarities between himself and Simon Raiden only too well. In a previous life,hewould have been the one sitting at that table churning with his own dark thoughts, whilst observing other people who were living their lives out in the sunshine.
As they settled back into the car, he commented dryly, ‘My guess is he was just jealous.’
