Chapter 4: Blackmail

"It seems the Narcan is beginning to do its job," the doctor said leaning up, "but it would be best to keep her here for observation for the next few hours."

"Let me go you fucking asshole!" Bulma struggled against the straps holding her to the examining table.

"Yes, that is definitely the best option," Dr. Brief said rotating his arm to look at his watch. "And it's almost 1 o'clock. I have meetings to get to… I leave her in your capable hands."

He left the room.

"Hello, Becky."

"Hello Dr. Brief." The woman said from behind the large three-sided desk. "How's Ms. Brief?"

"Under observation. She should be all right by this evening."

"That is good to hear," she said.

"How's your family doing?"

"We're doing fine. The strike is hard but we're managing."

"Well remember if you need any extra help, you can apply for the special bonus like everyone else. So, who's on the docket for today?"

"At 1:30 there is your meetings with the trade unions. This morning there was supposed to be a tele-meeting with the CEOs of the other companies affected by the strikes. They are not happy about being delayed until after the union meetings."

Dr. Brief chuckled, "Not like I was ever going to agree to a united front against the strikers. Bounce 3 p.m. off of them and see if it sticks. What else is there today?"

"There is supposed to be the start of negotiations with the heads of Holstein Medical about the acquisition of Synthbiotics starting at 4:30. It was to be the last thing today before closing."

"Dang, that's right," Dr. Brief said lowering his fist to his palm. "Hmmm… why don't you float a rescheduling for Holstein? Blind buys have never sit well with me, even if the company looks good on paper. It would be nice to actually get the head of Synthbiotics in on these talks. What was his name…" he snaps his fingers a few times, "I know it was Greek…"

Becky sifts through the folder on the talks. "Says here his name is Dr. Gero."

"Ah, yes that's it. Dr. Gero…Eh? That sounds familiar… Oh, well no time for that. May I have the files for the meeting with the trade union reps to review?"

"Here you… Welcome, gentlemen."

Dr. Brief turned around. He saw five older men and one young one about Bulma's age.

"Ah, Mr. Crowling," Dr. Brief walked over and shook the union's district leader's hand with both of his, "It's good to see you. Too bad it needs to be under these circumstances."

"If it was under any other circumstances, I'd be out of my job."

Dr. Brief chuckled and released his hand, "True. All to true, unfortunately." He began shaking the hands of the individual factory representatives down the line, "Mr. Thatcher. Mr. Kuznetsov, Mr. Wagner, Mr. Boyle, … and forgive me young man, you look familiar but your name escapes me at the moment. My apologies. You're the one who does the press conferences up at the capital, correct?"

He nods, "Thomas Williams, advocate for worker's rights."

Dr. Brief shakes his hand and chuckles, "Youth today just can't utter the word lobbyist, can they?"

He turns to Crowling, "Unfortunately this is one of those days were nothing goes to plan, I'm running about 20 minutes late. Can I have some tea or coffee brought to you in the meantime? What about some chocolate chip cookies? My wife made a big batch yesterday."

"No thank you, Dr. Brief. But we would like to start as soon as possible," Crowling said.

"I'll keep this quick," he said turning around, "Give me the folders, Becky. Hurry."

She hands him the documents. "Here you go, sir."

Dr. Brief nodded and walked as fast has his old frame can take him to his office. He shut the door.

"If you gentleman could sit down at the couches," Becky gestured to one of the sitting areas, "he'll be right with you."

The men sit down.

"The secretary shouldn't allow her boss to call her by her first name. It's disrespectful," Williams said.

"In my experience, the Briefs tend to be informal unless they strictly need to be," Boyle said, "And Ms. Reed was his personal assistant for several years before I ever heard him say her given name. If she's content with being on a first name basis at this point, then we should let it stand."

"He normally doesn't slip up like that in public settings like this," Kuznetsov said, "He seems exhausted today."

"We can use that as an advantage in today's negotiations," Williams said eagerly, "If we press—"

"Tom," Boyle said, "the good doctor is from an old union family and he has never forgotten where he came from. He may be the richest S.O.B. on the planet right now, but when labor talks, he has always listened. He is the one ally we have here. So, save your cynicism for others. There are plenty of hungry lions in this den."

Dr. Brief was reading the thick file of paperwork as fast as he could.

"Damn… I turn my back for one minute… I told that manager to work with the unions and not straight fire 300 people. What the hell are they teaching at business schools these days! When I say work with the union, I mean work with the union! No wonder we're being picketed along with the other companies…" A thought flashed through his mind, "This isn't a reaction to the walk outs. This was preplanned. This is a modern-day breakup."

He took off his glasses and placed his hand over his eyes. "But with how that stockholder meeting went, those wolves are just waiting for me to do something to take it away from me." He lowered his hand and tapped it on the table, "I'm going to need to get Bulma into the upper management sooner than I hoped. And she's HAS to be an invalid right now."

He put his glasses back on and pushed the button on his intercom. "Becky, please show out guests in."

The men walk in to his office and sit down on the chairs and couches. Then he surprised Williams when Dr. Brief gathered his papers and brought them over to the coffee table and laid them out. He sat next to him and across from Crowling.

"I've become so deeply involved in my daughter's latest crusade, I haven't been looking over my company," Dr. Brief began. "I trusted my board of directors to handle things. I was wrong to do so. I'm sorry things went so poorly."

He taps the papers on the table, "These are the internal documents I've been given on the protests at the factory, but because of my daughter's latest accident, I was not able to completely read these before this meeting.

"My standing orders were to work with you about the reductions the retooling of that factory would cause. From what little I read, that did not happen. But I want to hear your side of things. Was that really the case?"

"After the layoffs were announced, all our attempts at contact failed," Crowling said. He lowered his brows, "What was it that you were planning?"

"Buy outs for early retirement, free retraining for the new equipment, promotions into management if people were interested in relocating to the three new plants under construction deeper in the country. Our charities are also understaffed and given the opportunity I'd rather hire in house than working with outside contractors. I was certain we could get a least a hundred takers right away, and then work our way up to between two and three hundred over the next year."

"Even so, we are very proud of our small towns, and many of those options would pull our young away at an even greater rate," Crowling said.

"I'm perfectly aware of that, and I'm sorry. But if we can get those three plants up and running plus the one already there, your towns are in perfect position for a transportation hub. But those plans depend on getting those three up and running. Which is why I wanted the local managers to work with you."

"This is the first time any of us have heard of this," Crowling said. "Why has this not been communicated by your subordinates?"

Dr. Brief sighed, "When I got my scholarship, my grandmother warned me that if three or more rich people smile at you, there's a gun pointed at the back of your head that's about to have the trigger pulled. There has been some unfortunate politicking both inside and outside the company and it will take time to gain control of the reins again. I cannot openly help you until then. But don't worry," he chuckled, "My family isn't going to allow the world to end on our watch."

"Rather apocalyptic of you," Williams said surprised and somewhat taken aback by his change of tenor. It was like he was laughing at his own joke.

Then Boyle chuckled too. "Tá gach rud go díreach mar an gcéanna?" (Everything is exactly the same?)

"Ní hé sin é go díreach ach níl sé i bhfad uaidh!" (Not exactly but close enough!)

Then they both laughed.

Thatcher poked Williams with his elbow. "Let the old boys have their lil' bit of Gaelic," he whispered.

"Old? I'm the same age as you!" Boyle kicked him.

Dr. Brief waved them off, "And I got 18 years on the both you eejits."

"Save it for the pub," Crowling ordered. "And no teetotaler jokes. This is a serious meeting."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Brief said apologetically. "I know these companies teaming up to blackmail you into concessions by threatening to close all the factories in the sector is unforgivable. And I'm sorry the mistake of the firing of these 300 people made you doubt my commitment to the parish." He leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and drooping his hands. "Buying the old factory was never about profit for me, I just want to make Colcannon and the Barmbracks alive again like when the railroads ran through the valley when my grandmother was young."

He raised his right hand and placed his index and thumb together. "But that's the issue I'm having with the board and the stockholders. All they care about is the share price and dividends," he lowered his hand again and interwove his fingers, "and between this and my daughter's passion projects, profits are not as high as they could be. Foxes got into my henhouse when I wasn't looking and I need to shoot them dead before I do anything else."

Then he sat up perfectly straight and placed his hands on his knees. "But I have made 'bonuses' available to employees working in that administration district if they request it. What they do with the extra money I have absolutely no control over. The second pay cycle is about to finish, and I don't know if it's pride or something else, but I've only had a few takers," Dr. Brief said with overwhelming innuendo.

Williams wanted to facepalm.

"Well," Kuznetsov said glancing at the other men, "I say this meeting has come to an impasse and we should walk out and return to our members and tell them how horribly this went." There was sarcasm in his voice.

"Second," Thatcher raised his hand.

"Third," Wagner said.

"Ok. This is the reason the national leadership brought me in, "Crowling said angrily. "Your dealings with Capsule Corp. are unprofessional. He is a global conglomerate leader who just cut three hundred jobs and replaced them with robots. No different than all the other factory owners. Being a hometown boy has no bearing on this issue. And he has admitted he does not even have full control of his own company. This is a temporary and short-sighted solution. Yes, this is a failure. A total failure. Not some masked conspiracy to pretend to be one while things are actually going well."

"It's called buying time, Crowling," Boyle stood up. "A fighting retreat while a splinter group feints in an attempt to outflank the enemy." He walked over to Crowling who stood up to meet him. "You weren't here when the Red Ribbon Army swept through and they took over the factories. The others companies made deals and began supplying materials willingly. The Briefs never did.

"You weren't here when we torched our own factory, escaped into the hills and began sniping the convoys with our hunting rifles. You weren't here when they started executing people in the middle of town to get us to surrender. And you weren't here when the fighters the Briefs organized liberated us! And Ms. Bulma was only a teenager, but she and her friends went in Wolverines style and managed to assassinate a bunch of fucking generals!"

Dr. Brief simply crossed his arms and nodded.

"Dr. Brief rebuilt the factory. Dr. Brief rebuilt the town. Dr. Brief built the memorial in the town square. And Dr. Brief paid for digging up the mass grave, identifying everyone, then giving them proper funerals. Do the robots suck balls? Yes, it does. Is Dr. Brief no better than any other corporate shitehawk? Fuck no!"

There is an extended silence. Crowling and Boyle continue to stare at each other down, neither willing to back down, but it is obvious from Crowling's face he is struggling for a comeback.

Williams was also in shock. The Briefs were the most famous pacifists on the planet. But secretly their daughter led a small army as a teenager against the people who almost conquered the planet and seemed to win a major victory.

"But crusade," he thought, "He called her pet projects a crusade and it sounds like a major money sink. Is she funding a private army?"

"So, what about the three hundred people who were fired?!" Crowling changed the subject, "They have no access to these bonuses! What are they supposed to do?! Pray to will the lottery?!"

Dr. Brief's face lit up. "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that!" He reached for his cell phone and began to dial.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Crowling looked past Boyle and pointed at Dr. Brief with his hand.

"I'm going to ask what the winning numbers are going to be," he said putting the phone to his ear.

"How?! Are you trying to fix the numbers?! There are witnesses to this!" Crowling shouted.

Dr. Brief ignored him. "Hello, Usher. It's Dr. Brief. Is Fortuneteller Baba free at the moment?"

"You're jeopardizing the fates of three hundred people by relying on a fortune teller?" Williams said startled. "You're a man of science."

Dr. Brief continued to ignore them. "Oh, well is there a chance you could forward some questions to her between clients? … Yes, I know of the 5 million zeni surcharge…"

"Five…Mil…?" Everyone whispered in shock.

"Ok, I want to know if anyone will be winning the four highest multimillion lotteries at the drawing in three days… Yes, the 632, 478, 304 and 289 million zeni ones. … Oh, you have a 90% down payment policy for lottery numbers? Yes, I can afford the 1.5 billion. Alright, you can have the financial department call me back at this number to work out the money transfer. Yes, thank you. I will talk to you soon. Good bye."

Dr. Brief hung up and put his phone away.

"You're wasting over a billion zeni on a fortune teller? That's over the top even for you," Wagner said.

"If you're worried about credibility, Baba is used heavily by the Special Forces. I think that's a perfectly good reference if my family's is not enough for you. She's a money-grubbing old crone, but she's got the skills worth the extortion. I'll give you the numbers as soon as I get them and we can talk about how to split them up between the company pools. Don't think of this as me wasting money, but just as another way of getting my money to you."

"Won't the authorities get suspicious about all four prizes being won by one location?" Williams asks.

"I'm sure Baba will enjoy the publicity. And she's always survived investigations into her business. I'm not worried."

Crowling pinch the bridge of his nose, "Let's just end this meeting."

"All right then," Dr. Brief stood up, took a step to the side and extended his hand. "I look forward to talking with you soon, Mr. Crowling. And welcome to the district."

Crowling took his hand. Dr. Brief could feel the disgust in his shake. He let go. "All right, everyone gather your things and leave this room," Crowling ordered.

The others shook Dr. Brief's hand quickly one by one before they exited with Boyle and Dr. Brief exchanging some quick Gaelic.

Williams shook his hand, but paused before finishing it.

"Is there something you want to ask, young man?" Dr. Brief asked.

"N… No, sir, Dr. Brief. I'm fine."

Dr. Brief smiled. "Maybe you should talk with Shaun. Known him since he broke into my hotel room as a lad."

"Shaun. You mean Mr. Boyle?"

Dr. Brief put his hand on the young man's shoulders and began guiding him to the door, "Yep. Said he just wanted to get a good look at the devil's spawn the old women were jabbering about."

Williams stops at the door. "You? Devil's spawn, sir?"

"My grandparents left a shadow darker than the shadows of the Barmbracks in winter that I had to crawl out of before I gained any good karma there. Mountain folk tend to have long memories like that, but that's for Shaun to talk your ear off about."

"Williams! You coming?"

"Better not keep Mr. Crowling waiting," Dr. Brief said gently pushing him out the door.

Dr. Brief shut the door, then leaned against it. He slowly slid down until he hit the floor with a small thud. "Crowling… That man is going to be trouble. And here I thought I could safely use Colcannon to free up the experimental department from manufacturing all Bulma's alien-related projects. Tom seems a nice lad, rather naïve on the local history, but he is a national lobbyist. Needs to learn to squeeze is big ideas into the narrow valleys if he's going to be of any use in this mess."

Williams heard the door shut behind him. He saw Mr. Boyle leaning on the desk talking with the secretary. Not dignified by any means, but he was not surprised at this point.

"Boyle!"

"I'll stop talking to my niece when I'm good and ready!

"You should probably get going, Uncle. Mr. Crowling is starting to make a scene."

"Oh? Bucking Becky tossing this old man out, huh?"

Becky blushed. "That word has a completely different meaning in the city!" she said as quietly as she could.

Boyle chuckled, "Slán leat, Sweetie." (Goodbye)

"Tabhair aire, uncle." (Take care)

Boyle turned from the desk and began to walk away.

"Mr. Boyle, sir," Williams jogged up to him.

"Yes, Mr. Williams?"

"Dr. Brief… he said to speak to you about the truth of the local situation. Nothing today was in the information we were given when the national committee sent us here. If we are going to be able to predict and work to improve this situation, we need to understand what is actually going on on the ground."

"That's the royal we I assume?" Boyle smiled and motioned for them to start walking. "Ok young man, where do you want to begin?"

"These grandparents. His biography makes no mention of Colcannon or anywhere remotely close to here. I didn't know about this until Mr. Crowling said it."

"Yeah, he was surprised too. Both of you got thrown into the deep end and can't seem to tread water. Let's see here, it was the biggest scandal to ever hit county a little over 150 years ago.

"The Barmbracks were blessed with the most beautiful girl ever born to the mountains, Mháire MacDonald. Fiery red locks, deep green eyes, and a fairy laugh, her parents knew God had blessed them with an angel of fortune. They kept her away from the sun and put her nose in books to raise her up above her station. And it worked.

"Several important men in the county took interest in her, and right after her 16th the county's only doctor married her and she took the respectable name of Mary. He was more than twice her age, but that was normal back then. He was the wealthiest of her many suitors. He had the second largest house in Colcannon, after the factory owners, and even had a maid. He paid for her parents to have a good house as well down on Washington Street. Still there. It's the bed and breakfast now.

"But that maid was her moral ruin. The doctor traveled a great deal, and often left her alone for weeks on end. But that maid's brother was a boxer. County champion. So, when a railroad boy rode into town and knocked him out, it made the papers: The man who was destined by God himself to fight and that He sent the angels to command his parents to name him Boxer. Mary talked the maid into taking her to see the fights. And that's when she met the man who would condemn her soul, Boxer Brief. And then one day she kissed her husband goodbye, dropped her newborn son at her parents, then was never seen in town again.

"The maid was arrested for murder about a week after she disappeared. But she claimed Mary had run off Boxer. When it hit the papers, people said the two were seen a few towns down the line the same day, but no one saw them after that.

"The maid and her brother hung themselves in prison after being charged with aiding her kidnapping. Her parents were turned out into the streets and shunned. They were found froze to death after the spring thaw. And the baby just disappeared and was never spoke of again. But there is a story a man who looked like the doctor died in the big mining accident the county over 17 years later, but after the newspaper that reported it was burnt down by a mob the next day, nothing came of it.

"Now, you can see the scandal when a man claiming to be the grandson of Boxer and Mháire Brief comes back to the valley and becomes master of the company store, I hope. That old song is no joke."

"They burnt down a newspaper?"

He shrugged, "It was how things were handled back then… But anyway, after all the gossip of the women about the end of days, my friends and I decided we wanted to see the devil for ourselves. And that is not a metaphor. So, at night we climbed up to take turns peaking in the second-floor windows of their hotel room. But the night watch spooked them and they ran off leaving me dangling from the window sill. The noise woke the baby and when the Mrs. got up to care for her she saw me struggling at the window and they pulled me in. And the first thing they ever said to me was if I wanted some tea. The next morning when I told my friends what happened and how nice they were, they thought I had my soul sucked out of me and went screaming down the street thinking I was a zombie or something." He chuckled, "I know that sounds ridiculous for a city boy, but it's what people believed."

"This must be why they are so comfortable with trusting fortunetellers. Even Dr. Brief. He is almost 80. I hope this faith is rewarded."

"And the battle with the Red Ribbon Army?"

Boyle put his arm over his shoulder and pulled him close. "Have you ever heard of Son Goku? The boy who killed King Piccolo."

"I didn't know his name, but everyone knows of him."

"He's Ms. Bulma's fist," he whispers, "They did it. They did everything. They killed all of them." He smiles wide and shakes him excitedly, "They butchered the generals of the East, found out where the main headquarters was, then cut off the head of the snake."

"A bunch of teenagers destroyed the most powerful army in the world?"

"Yep."

Williams was already too shocked to feel any more surprise at how casually Boyle said this, without any hint of the momentous revelation he just revealed.

Boyle lowered his arm from Williams' shoulders. "Now Colcannon had been made an example of by the army. But the town really blossomed afterwards under the Briefs. They modernized the town so much the other owners had to begin investing in their factory towns to keep themselves from going out of business. And I don't mean fancy things like the interwebs. We had people come from all over to tour our new sewage treatment plant. Everything went into pits or straight into the creek before then. Actually, that's when the bed and breakfast started up to house the tourists now that I think about it. You may think we're a small town, but we're over a third of county now."

"I saw in the information I was given that Colcannon is depopulating the slowest while the other towns have dropped significantly. Seems Capsule Corp. is the life support for the region," Williams said as they reached the others waiting at the doors to the foyer.

Williams suddenly stops walking. "Capsule Corp. is the life support of the region. The threats to close the other factories mean nothing because the doctor is building three more factories. He's forced them to pay tons of money by simply by upping the standard of living there. Everyone's so calm because they believe he will save them again.

'Foxes got into my henhouse…'

"They need to remove Dr. Brief." Williams turned to walk back.

"Williams? Where are you going?" Crowling ordered.

"Don't wait up! I'll grab a taxi and meet you in a few." Williams jogged off.

Dr. Brief sits at a conference table with a projection on the screen. Six faces of old white men were displayed, three on top of the others.

"We were surprised you contacted us so quickly after your secretary said 3 p.m." said the first man. "Normally negotiations last a couple hours."

"It devolved into a screaming match rather quickly, so I had them removed." Dr. Brief chuckled, "The leadership seems wholly unprepared for the onslaught you gentlemen have delivered. Congratulations. You couldn't have done this better than if you hired the Pinkertons."

"You flatter us, Dr. Brief," said the second man, "Then no agreement was reached with the union?"

"No, as I said, it devolved quickly."

"You have always worked quite well with unions, Dr. Brief," the fifth man said, "What went wrong this time?"

"I believe they came in looking for a fight, and I did not give them the response they wanted."

"They as in the national transplants. You are a god in the Barmbracks. They worship you," the fourth man said. "But as they say, 'A man without spirit is whipped. But one ounce of faith, they'll be dug in deeper than tick on a hound.' But unfortunately for them, if you get put on the cross, you're not coming back."

"Ms. Reed," Williams came jogging up to the desk.

"Mr. Williams, what's wrong?"

"Is Dr. Brief available to talk to? It's urgent."

"He's currently on a video call. It will be a while."

Williams puts his hands on the desk, "With the other factory owners?"

"I… I can't say. Is something wrong?"

Williams' arms drop to his side. "I'm too late…" he sighed.

"You're going to close that factory, then completely withdraw from the mountains," the first man said, "Not one grain of wheat, not one scholarship, not a single zeni, in fact if those private schools you built could have an electrical fire and destroy all the text books and computers you donated so they can't be reused by the public schools that would be ideal. But all good things come in time. No sense to be too greedy at this moment."

Dr. Brief stood up and slammed his hands on the table, "Never! Why the hell would I ever agree to that?!"

"Because you have no choice," the fifth man said. "Or we will report you to the Committee of Unhuman Activities."

Dr. Brief's heart stopped for a moment. "What proof do you have?"

They all chuckled.

"Proof?" the second man said, "We don't need proof for a committee that is gunning down fat men in their mother's basements over alien conspiracy websites.

"But six reputable companies reporting suspicions of the greatest scientist since Hawking and inventor since Jobs is working with aliens? Even if they make an exception to the law about shutting down and seizing all of a suspected company's assets to stop the global economy from collapsing, anything more complicated than 2+2=4 for the 'military intelligence'," he used air quotes, "is going to take years to sort out. Especially if the stories of your experimental department are to be believed. Now, what could you be possibly making that involves so many fires and even an explosion?" he slowly shook his head and said the last sentence like scolding a child.

"You don't know a damn thing!"

"We don't need to know anything, like we said before," the first man said, "But we are all owned by the same hedge funds, and unlike you who guaranteed your company would never survive in your family to a third generation, we've actually raised our daughters to be suitable wives to rich men. Your youngest is especially disgraceful in the tabloids. As willful as she is, I wonder what will happen when old General Cumberland comes smashing down the doors to her labs?"

The men laughed then smiled.

"If three rich men smile at you…" Dr. Brief thought.

"Chaill tú géilleadh dúinn," the sixth man said. (You have lost. Surrender to us.)

"You ran that through an auto-translate, didn't you?!"

"But it was close enough, judging by your shaking."

"Now, now. There's no need to go that far," the third man said patronizingly, "I'm sure the board will vote him out of the company within the hour." He then tilted his head, "Although, doesn't your family live in a company-owned mansion? Your family would be bared from the premises in that case." He then tilts his head the other way, "But then again, the committee will freeze all your assets including your private bank accounts and credit cards, so you won't be able to pay for a hotel or anything." He straightens his head and claps his hands together, "But I'm sure a man as magnanimous as General Cumberland would at least allow your family to exit with the clothes on their backs. After all he did earn his nickname "The Butcher" for his compassion for families and civilians back during the war with the Red Ribbon Army."

They all chuckle again.

"You have until 5 p.m. in your time zone. If we do not see this as the lead story on the global news or as an interrupting breaking news report before then, we will immediately report you," The fourth man said with victory smiling all over his face. He then held up a remote in view of the camera and pushed a button. His picture changed to black with the warning No Signal on it.

All the other pictures followed suit within a few seconds.

Dr. Brief fell back in his chair violently shaking, his vision blanched white briefly with God knows what emotion or mix thereof.

Hey had him. They had him dead to rights and had no idea how. He looked down at his right hand and placed his left thumb into the palm. The thought of the handshake with Vegeta.

"No. Don't think like that. Goku is one of them too. We'd still be in this situation even if Bulma never brought him home."

Dr. Brief leaned forward and grabbed his hair in his fists. "Calm down. You're no good to anyone like this."

After several minutes the sounds of his pulse left his ears and his breathing slowed. But his heart was aching and he was light headed. He took another deep breath but it wouldn't come.

His chest… What, what is wrong with his chest?

The last thing he remembered was pushing the button on his medical alert necklace before hitting the ground.

Six old men sat at their large, antique hardwood desks looking at their computer screens.

"A heart attack you say?"

"Yes, it's all over the West City news. Critical but stable condition."

One laughs, "He must have dropped death right after the conference call."

"We are still holding him to the time table, correct?"

"I don't see why not. Why do you ask?"

"Chairman Belfort contacted me though our mutual daughters-in-laws. Members are worried about the optics of this moment and are wavering. The Briefs have too much public sympathy and reporting now will only damage the board."

"And what do you believe?"

He smiled, "I say we skip the time table and report him now. The fact he had a heart attack immediately after we confronted him will be seen as proof of guilt by Cumberland and accelerate the process."

The men chuckle.