Endworlds - Nicholas Read [8]
Not to mention its stock price.
Raef Eisman’s Manhattan corner office was large, clean, and functional; one of several maintained in the different countries he frequented. The view outside the two glass walls was sweeping, from the Empire State Building to the Hudson.
Visitors were always understandably distracted. Eisman was not. Like the rest of his office, the work on his desk was laid out with mathematical precision. Or as he had put it more than once, “Function follows form.”
Having been summoned, Hills stood quietly before his boss and friend, waiting for Eisman to finish perusing the short-form contract that represented Burroughs Labs’ latest deal with a foreign military.
Tall and slender, older than Eisman, he could still keep up with the younger man on the racquetball court or in a lap pool. Military service followed by freelance security work in Africa had instilled in Hills the need to maintain strength in body as well as mind.
Eisman trusted him completely, even letting him teach Paige the rudiments of taekwondo. The girl would have been ready to test for the next belt, Hills thought, if . . . if only . . .
“Sir? You wanted to see me?”
Eisman’s tone as he spoke indicated that even though he had not acknowledged Hills’ arrival, he was perfectly aware of the other man’s presence.
“Yes, Bill.” He did not look up from his work. Eisman’s ability to focus and work on multiple tasks simultaneously was a source of unending astonishment to allies and competitors alike. “I’m going to file a class action suit against Ansett over these disappearances. Cut off all their political support from banks and governments. They’ll be out of business by next Easter if I have my way.”2
“Sir,” Hills’ tone was gentle. “Raef, it’s been nearly six months. There’s no sign of the missing and—”
“The families of the others are already on-side, especially those of the two stewards the airline denied were ever on that flight and who disappeared along with the girls. Don’t try to talk me out of this, Bill. The airline is stonewalling, has been from the beginning. Such abrogation of responsibility, such deceit, it’s inexcusable. Worse that that, it’s criminal.”
His voice rose slightly. “They’re not going to get away with this. I’m not going to let them get away with this.”
Hills knew that steely tone. He’d known and worked with it for twenty years, the time he had served Eisman. He had been there for him when Eisman’s wife Jade had died in childbirth—indeed he had been at the hospital for Paige’s early birth and was the last of the two men to speak to Jade alive. He had been there through Raef’s ascent to the post of CEO following his father’s demise, and his decisions as a single parent raising Paige alone.
He was there for him then, and he was present for him now. Unlike others who saw only an abstract of the man through snatches of meetings and conferences, Hills was not intimidated by the gimlet-eyed Raef Eisman; scourge of company competition, canoodling politicians, and conspiring usurpers. But he was worried for him. Instead of fading in the aftermath of Paige’s disappearance, Eisman’s refusal to accept what others had long since dealt with had only intensified with time. And now this . . .
“Sir, action against a major airline, even with your connections, will cost you millions. The Board will object to this as another obsession that’s distracting you from your main role.”
Eisman’s cool stare was unblinking. “My main role? You mean as a father who’s lost his daughter? You think I give a damn about what those drones on the Board think?” Without pausing he leaned forward, “You ever been to Micronesia, Bill?”
“No sir. I know the Indian Ocean a little, but