August 2004
Juliet Janin stared down at the paperwork scattered on her desk, occasionally glancing up and over to the door. Her ears were pricked onto the conversation in the next room, but she knew well enough to feign attention to the assignment in front of her.
Tomorrow would signal eight weeks to the day that Juliet had started temping at Evercom. With a slim build and immaculate dress sense, she perfectly fitted the description that the company had stated when they called her temp agency, Pink Angels. She would be twenty-seven years old at the end of the summer and, much to her mother's disappointment, had never been permanently employed. However, during tenures with five different agencies she had been highly paid as a medical secretary, a legal secretary and a school secretary, positions which she had no training and experience, even though the roles had called for it. By investing in a wardrobe of expensive couture and insuring her golden bob haircut was always perfectly in place, doused with secure hold hairspray every morning, she could prove that to get the best jobs over the scores of other women at the agency, image really was everything.
She had just finished a four week stint at a large, high priced plastic surgery clinic downtown, covering the leave of the receptionist there. On her first day at the clinic, the receptionist she had taken over from had shown her the ropes and then left her for a month. The next time she saw her, her predecessor was a different woman. Her puffed up lips, ski slope nose and pert, large breasts left no place in the imagination on what had required bed rest and recovery for the best part of a month. The secretaries in the office complex opposite liked to talk and although she made a lousy assistant, there was no one better at collating information on their employers than Juliet.
She soon learned of the affair the permanent receptionist was having with the married head surgeon and used this to her advantage. She dropped hints to her temporary boss of her knowledge, always done with a sickly-sweet smile. Juliet soon found herself in receipt of overtime pay, long lunches and a liberal attitude toward start times. In fact, on her predecessor's return she been assured by the company that she had proved so invaluable in her time there, that perhaps they could seek out a permanent position for her, with a good salary and full benefits. Juliet had refused the offer as her agency had just offered her another job and she had first refusal on it. She didn't like to stay in one place for too long. She was looking for the mother load; something that would lead her to power and money.
The job description had required a young, well presented person to provide a warm and welcoming atmosphere to a family run investment company. The candidate must be diligent and be able to effectively multitask the client paperwork. A conscientious attitude and strong memory were vital and long hours were expected. When Juliet contacted her representative at the agency, she was told that the company directors were looking for a conscientious woman, who could schmooze any visitors, but who could also handle limited paperwork. The former secretary had retired and now they were hiring a temp, with the hope she would fit in enough to take a permanent position. The company, she was told, was owned by an aging businessman who had built it up from scratch. Now that the owner had been unable to take part in the day to day running, he left the organisation to his three sons, but he still had to sign off on any major decisions the brothers were to make.
Evercom was a domestic and international investment and development company, Juliet was informed on her first day. Their main focus was to redevelop land for commercial projects, such as turning derelict council estates into recreation parks. After spending her last job chatting to people whose faces were covered in bandages, she welcomed the possible move into a more corporate climate. However, after working for the past two months, Juliet had not yet received even the slightest hint that she would be made a permanent addition to the team. She would even admit herself, she had not put a whole lot of effort into the work over the past two months. She was constantly late and the directors did not appreciate her tardiness.
Juliet carefully tucked her hair behind her ear, so not to mess up her flawless style, and cocked her head towards the door as she heard Peter Ever, the eldest of the directors, clear his throat. The three brothers had entered into the building two minutes previously, accompanied by a young man, no more than Juliet's age. He had a large scar on the right side of his head and flinched when the phone rang. Juliet wondered what a man like that was doing having a meeting with all three directors.
"But Mr Torres, the instructions were very clear," Peter stated, sitting directly opposite the young man. "We said for you both to stay in the cabin at all times. Of course, the company is very sorry that your colleague…passed away, but the rules sent to your agency, which you both agreed to, were very clear."
"They were not clear…" Jorge started, the bile starting to rise in his throat. "They…were…not. Nowhere in the rules did it say what we were guarding. God…those things. They killed my friend. If we had known that we were going to that island, we never would have taken the job."
The young man could feel anger rise up in him, mixed with a pure fear that formed when he remembered that night. His fear would haunt his dreams and plague his every moment for the rest of his life. Half of him thought that Bob had gotten the easy way out, that he was at peace now, but then he recalled the deceased man's face on the monitor and he knew that the suffering had not been quick. Jorge looked across the table at Peter and then glanced across to the other directors. While the other two brothers had an inkling of compassion and regret across their faces, the elder brother sitting across from him had not. Peter Evers had a cold steel across his grey eyes and his head was held high. This was not a fight the executive was prepared to lose; he was just about to answer when his brother stepped in.
"Like my brother said, Mr Torres, we are sincerely sorry for the loss of your friend and please pass our condolences on to Mrs. Meyer." Kennedy Evers answered. He had soft brown eyes and a warming colour in his cheeks that his older brother did not. He exchanged glances with his twin, Edward, over their sibling's hastiness and continued to talk to Jorge.
"Part of the job that you signed on for was an unknown element. That was why the pay was so high. We did our best to protect you. We built a solid hut for your work, which actually did save your life, Mr. Torres," Kennedy calmly stated.
"Yeah, plus we told you to stay in the hut, which you did not do," Peter interrupted, glaring at the audacity of the young boy opposite him. "You're lucky you and the widow got a cent; you were in violation of contract."
Jorge glared right back at the older man. He knew that the conditions of the contract were broken, but that didn't stop him hoping for a little compassion. He could see he was not going to get it in this meeting room, but he needed to speak his mind. For the sake of Bob's memory and for what they both went through he needed to make his position clear.
"I'm aware of the contract conditions, Sir," Jorge took a breath and then continued. "But there's only the four of us in this room, so let's not get into legal talk. We all know what was on that island. I was in the hut and the only reason that thing didn't try harder to get me was because it had…because it had gotten to Bob first. I don't want any money, if that's what you're so worried about. I just don't want anyone else on that damn island. Non-disclosure or not, I hear of anyone stepping a toe on that island, that ain't the Army, or the Marines or whatever….then I'm speaking out. Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Evers?"
With that, Jorge stood up and grabbed his crutches. The three other men looked at each other. They were not worried about the young man, he posed no real risk to their reputation. They had been in business for long enough to know that a hot-headed moment cold be easily quashed with the cold mind of a business strategist. Kennedy jumped out of his seat and fully opened the door for Jorge, who was slowing pulling himself to the room's exit, trying not to show any pain on his face from the injured ankle that was still twisting in agony.
"Juliet?" Kennedy called to the secretary. "Can you please help Mr. Torres out and make sure he gets in a cab ok? Then you can take your lunch. One hour, Juliet. We expect you back by two pm."
The secretary pulled on her jacket and grabbed her large black, Gucci purse. She nodded towards her boss and then opened the main office door for Jorge. "Here let me help you," she said toward the young man and gave him a beaming smile.
"Thank you, Miss." Jorge replied and responded with a slight smile. Juliet guided him out the door. She knew with one flutter of her eyelashes she could convince the man to have lunch with her. She only had an hour, but she was confident she could gain an impressive amount of information from him in that time.
Kennedy returned to the office and slammed the door shut, startling his twin, who had remained quiet until this time.
"Relax, Ken." Edward said, motioning for the other man to come sit back down. "He's a young kid, he's got no capital, no support and no legal grounds. It's just empty words. Unless Juliet manages to get him run over by a cab, we'll never hear about him again. Let his own company deal with him."
His twin nodded. "Yeah, I know. Speaking of Juliet, have you seen the mess out there? Has she even filed anything since she's been working here?" Kennedy asked.
"No," Peter replied sternly. "I'm going to call the agency tomorrow. Ask them to replace her with someone who can actually use a hole punch."
Edward shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I don't mind her, she's a bit untidy, but she'll get better."
His two brothers slipped each other a glance. "What you mean to say is because she looks good, you're happy to have the company go to hell in a hand basket as long as you've got something pretty to look at in the morning?" Kennedy stated. "How's single life treating you by the way?"
Edward grimaced towards his twin. His marriage had collapsed seven months earlier, leaving him rattling around his penthouse apartment by himself. Although he knew his brother was only teasing, there was an air in truth in the statement. He was lonely, he did miss company and Juliet always gave him a smile when he arrived in to work. They had even had a lunch in the office once in a while. It seemed to him that maybe, just maybe, she would be open to the idea of a drink after work one day. She seemed like a woman who would appreciate being wined and dined.
"I'm not saying give her the job for good," Edward said, scratching his ear. "Just give her another week or two; it'll take the agency that long to find someone anyway. In the meantime, I'll have a word with her."
"Yeah, I bet you will..." Kennedy smirked, making a lude gesture with his hands.
"Enough!" Peter exclaimed. "This isn't junior high, we're trying to run a business here. Fine, let the girl stay for now, but she's your responsibility Eddie. Now can we actually get back to business?
"Actually, I'd prefer to discuss Eddie's love life…or lack of," Kennedy stated, putting his hands behind his head and grinning. "Then maybe we can make some margaritas and flick through the latest issue of Vogue; get the latest spring fashions."
"You crack me up Ken, really, you do," Edward stated deadpan towards his twin. "The comedy world missed its shining star when you decided to enter the world of business by hanging on our coattails."
Kennedy's grin dropped from his face, a tinge of hurt across his features. "Ed, that's not fair and you know it. I may not have got a degree, but while you and Peter were at school, I was the one looking after Ma. You think Dad was taking care of her when she was sick? He paid for the best nurses in the world, but I was the one reading to her and sitting in doctors' waiting rooms for her."
The three brothers grew silent at the mention of their mother. While their father was largely an absent figure in their lives, their mother was their constant, their cheerleader and their friend. Having passed away almost two decades earlier, she had not faded from their minds. She was the binding relationship between the brothers and their link to each other had often faded since her early death.
"We know what you did, Ken," Peter said solemnly. "But, we're going off track somewhat. Dad will be here shortly and we need to be prepared. He put this all on us, the deal he's been working on for years, and we're bringing people back in body bags after a few months! We screwed up, gentlemen. We need to show Dad that we can seal this deal for him and make it work. Ken, the new security agency, what have we got?"
"Right, well the new agency is a hell of a bunch better!" Kennedy replied as he moved closer to the desk and opened the new file. "They're sending four guys; one is an ex-soldier, served on the front line. One's a big game hunter, the best in the business they say. The other two are Rangers. They've served as bodyguards throughout the world, to important people. If I was gonna be under attack, then I want one of these fellas next to me. We've got the right guys this time, they come at a price, but these three can face anything. Then once the deal's done, they have a whole troop of qualified guys to send out to the location."
"Good, that'll help a little when talking to Dad at least." Peter brought out another piece of paper and straightened out the creases. "Eddie, what about travel arrangements? Have you got them finalised yet?"
Eddie immediately straightened up, eager to impress his big brother. "Oh, yeah all done and set. We just need to confirm the names. Transport booked there and back for all the different teams and all the equipment has been ordered and should be delivered by the end of the week. As far as I'm concerned, this thing is going to run like clockwork. How about you Peter, you finalised the teams?"
Peter began to bend the corner of the page he was holding and sighed, "Almost. I mean I'm happy with my selection, but I know Dad and I know he's going to take issue with it."
"Just be firm, Peter." Edward said in support of his elder brother. "You've researched these people, you know their skills. You know what Dad's like, he goes on his gut. That was fine when he was younger and he was starting out..."
"When I was six years old, I started a business with four oranges, a bag of hope and a dream..." Kennedy interrupted. His two brothers smiled at his mocking of their father, having heard the story of his infant entrepreneur skills one too many times.
"I think I can sell him on most the team," Peter said. "It's just the one position I'm worried about. I know he's not going to like who I've chosen for the..."
There was a loud creek as the office door opened and an old, frail looking man used his cane to step into the room.
"Where the goddamn hell is that useless lump of a secretary?" the old gentleman demanded. "That's what you get for hiring some slip of a girl! Mrs Windsor was with me over thirty years, she was never late and stayed until she was told to leave. I goddamn forgot to send her home one day and she was still in the office when I got in the next morning! That's what you want in a secretary!"
The three brothers immediately stood up at the man's arrival. "Juliet's just on lunch break, Dad," Edward replied. "She'll be back within the hour and will get right back to work."
Jim Evers sat down at the table and grunted audibly at his son's defence of the secretary. In his eighties, he had enough employees in all his years in business to know a bad egg when he came across them. When he had met Juliet a few weeks ago, he had entered the office to find her filing her nails and the phone off the hook. She had quickly composed herself and put on a fake smile and a mouth full of excuses, but he was nobody's fool. That one was trouble.
"Well, come on, let's get on with it then," Jim stated. "I'm trying to invest in some land and I get notice that the first guy that steps foot on the island is currently six feet under! What the hell went on? I told you what Hammond said about the animals. The ones left on there won't interfere with you, if you don't interfere with them. What kind of crummy security outfit did you hire, Kennedy? They sent a dogsbody and some kid! I told you that Hammond said to send the best!"
Edward, Kennedy and Peter were still standing by their chairs, intimidated by their father's arrival. Kennedy cleared his throat and replied to his father's question. "The security company we hired knew what we required, Dad. We did everything right. We got the safehouse on the island, we gave written instructions to stay in the cabin until the building group arrived; we gave them all the provisions they could possibly need."
"The guys didn't follow the orders, Dad," Kennedy intercepted. "We all but tied them to chairs in the cabin; it wasn't Eddie's fault. He's hired a new firm now, really top-notch."
"Well they better be," Jim added firmly. "I can't afford for this deal to be a failure, boys."
Kennedy sat down in his chair and the other men followed his example. He looked at his brothers before deciding how to broach the delicate subject with his father. "Another thing, Dad, we met with the kid who was there. How sure are you that John Hammond knew what was on that island? The kid seemed to think...well he seemed to think that this animal attacked on its own...that it sought them out."
Jim Evers looked up at his most precocious son. Three years previously, the aging businessman had sat in John Hammond's drawing room. The two men had been contemporaries and competitors for nearly half a century. Jim had of course, read all about Hammond's problems with his island chain over the past two decades. He felt, however, that there was still room to maximise profit and had met with the other man to belt out a deal.
"Kennedy, I'm not an idiot, no matter what you and your brothers seem to think. I may seem like a bumbling old fool, but I check my facts. A lesson you can learn when you hire a kid as a security guard, huh? I met with Hammond. He showed me documents presenting the production of every animal on that island and he showed me documents detailing the destruction of every dangerous animal on that island. I knew Hammond, I've could tell when he was lying. Always have been able too. We've got the animals we want on that island and they'll be more of the same once we're up and running."
Peter now cleared his throat and spoke up. "I think the kid was just trying to make up for his mistake Dad, we've seen the documents Hammond showed you ourselves and had them checked. They're the real deal. We just got off to a bad start, but we've learnt from those mistakes and we're ready to go now."
His father nodded and continued, "Good, Peter. Now, Hammond's estate executor agreed to the price. The old fool may have been on his last legs when we met and agreed to the contract, but a deal's a deal."
"Shouldn't his family have a say? What if they appeal once we've spent more money?" asked Ken, frowning slightly at the murkiness of bargaining with a dying man.
"That won't happen. Hammond was a stubborn fool." Jim responded, smirking even now at the idea of getting the better of his old rival. "He won't let a silly little thing like death get in the way of a business contract. Those kids of his, or grandkids, he left everything else to them, including the funds from this deal. They don't like the idea of the island. That's why we've been held up for three goddam years. He wanted it to go to someone who would appreciate its potential."
"Well, our construction crew are ready to get in and start work the minute we're given the go ahead," Edward introduced, trying to gain his father's approval. "In less than a year, we'll be already for the creative team to arrive. Peter?"
Peter sat up straight and perfectly arranged his papers. "We've secured James Munroe, he's the best in the business at this, won multiple awards in his field. He comes highly recommended and will do wonders for what we want."
"Shame he doesn't have a bird in a cattery's clue as to what he's actually going to be doing…" Ken interrupted, smirking at his older brother.
Peter slammed his fist on the table. "He knows enough!" he exclaimed, the tension in his forehead building. His attempt to build his crew had been more difficult than he had imagined. The brief he had given them had been less than detailed and even with the offer of a large amount of money, people seemed to be reluctant. "He knows plenty," he said, softly this time, regaining his composure. "He's signed the contract, he's agreed to the terms and will be on that plane in nine months' time. We've hired more crew, all outstanding in their particular fields that will assist him, as well as our tech crew to run the IT part and general building staff. That's on top of the new security team I've hired after someone screwed up the first one!"
It was now Kennedy's chance to slink back in his chair. He knew he was never going to meet his older brother or his father's high expectations. His twin brother would just go along with whatever they asked, but Kennedy had moral objections to the project. He just wished he had the guts to go out on his own.
"What about the experts we talked about?" barked Jim, interrupting Kennedy's thoughts.
Peter's face turned into a grimace. He knew his father wasn't going to like what he heard. "We've approached a number of people in the industry. A few are willing, but they don't have the experience you desired. I've approached Dr Sarah Harding and I think I've almost got her on board…"
"Dammit, Peter! Didn't I say I didn't want her?" Jim sneered in the direction of his oldest son. "I want someone with integrity. She and that Malcolm fool feed off the limelight. I thought I told you I wanted Grant!"
"Dad, we've spoken to a lot of people about Dr Grant. They all say that it's not going to happen. He won't go back," Peter replied, with the information he had rehearsed.
"For Christ's sake, this is what I'm leaving my business to?! The one I've built up since I was a kid? Three sons I've got and none of you have half the guts it needs to build a business. You," he said, nodding towards Kennedy. "You, have all your mother's softness, but none of her backbone. You just snivel around on your brothers' work feeling sorry for yourself. All the while, Edward, you're too distracted by any woman that glances your way to ever fully focus on the work. But Peter, I had hopes for you. You've got the focus, you've got the brains, but you've got no balls. So, Grant might not want to join? Tough! No one is unreachable. One dotty old man and then that moron couple got him on a plane, are you saying you can't do the same?! I don't care if you beg, if you plead or you hold a gun against his head, you'll get Alan Grant on that God damn island!"
Jim Evers staggered up from his chair as his three children sat there in silence, glancing at each other. Peter looked at his brothers, who were already licking their wounds. He wouldn't be one of them. He would make his father proud. No matter what.