Chapter 32

Travis Tyrell, CEO of PetroLink Global

“Good job, Linda,” Travis said, casually throwing his jacket onto the hanger by the door.

His secretary grimaced at the sight of such an expensive piece of clothing being manhandled with utter lack of care. She was about to scold him like she usually did, descending in their usual bouts of lighthearted banter, when she noticed his steady gait and lucid eyes.

“Yes,” Travis said, “the cancer is gone. No more tremors. Clear vision, clear thoughts. The boy really did deliver.”

“That’s…” she was at a loss of words, “that’s amazing, sir!”

He was almost touched by the display of affection, a sign that his employees valued him and the company just like he liked to think the company valued its employees.

“There was more to him than we thought, though,” he added, “you did a good job with your background check, but man was there more to him than we thought.”

“Like what, sir?”

“He’s no doctor, I tell you that.” Travis said with a grunt, flexing his body that felt much less stiff than usual.

“It was not a revolutionary technology that cured you, was it?” she asked pointedly.

“Ever the bright one, you,” Travis said fondly, “I have been sworn into secrecy, but I know you can piece something together yourself. I trust your discretion.”

“Travis Tyrell, ruthless CEO of a megacorporation responsible for the death of the planet. You sound like you are taking this boy’s side. Perhaps you are still sick.”

“Pah,” the CEO laughed, “you would think so, wouldn’t you? Listen well, this is an opportunity orders of magnitude bigger than any deal we might ever get to close. You saw what he did to me, no? Well, there’s more of it where it came from, and all I need to do to have it is to butter the boy up real good. So what if I have to kiss some ass? I would gladly do so.”

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, greed for power.

“He really must have something special to offer, then, for you to be willing to bend over like this. Perhaps I should pay him a visit.”

“Maybe when you have something to offer him yourself,” Travis joked, to which his secretary pretended to be gravely offended. They devolved into some banter, before he shut himself into his office.

Slumping into his chair, he sighed deeply. Magic. And not just those party tricks I saw at the biannuals. Real, tangible magic. Too bad the boy has found himself quite the capable helper, or I’d have snatched him up real quick.

It was not all bad. Travis had managed to get Michael to share the source of his magic, at least when pressured. The price he asked in return… The goal was clear to someone such as Travis, not that they were making any effort to hide their motives. They wanted protection, power, money and political sway. Since they couldn’t get it themselves, not without having to work for it for a long time, they were willing to sell a part of their secret stash of magic to get their hands on it.

No. They want more. The boy still doesn’t get it, but I saw it in that guy Old Dave’s eyes. He wants everything. Anything he can get his grubby hands on, he wants under his umbrella. Is he doing it for himself, or for the boy he took under his wing? Troublesome.

But even then, he’s just a little fish in an ocean of sharks. It’s not even him who has the magic powers, or I’d have had him killed as soon as possible. No, Michael is young, idealistic, naïve. It almost makes me wish I could still be like that. He won’t ask for too much. To him, even our breadcrumbs are gold ingots. Lobbying some senator so he can buy land? Trivial.

Travis had mulled over many matters on his way back to his office on the fifty-second floor of his privately owned skyscraper. Perhaps he could force their hand, take what he wanted without having to pay for it. After all, even with their magic, they were ants before his financial and political empire. He had presidents, CEOs and ministers on his quick call list.

The thought that he owed the boy his life didn’t even cross his mind. The healing had been a transaction, the price paid in full. The reason why he had not forced their hands, doing the opposite instead, was that he could afford to. Simple as that. All it cost him was a little bit of money and some time, the latter being the real valuable thing in this day and age.

Compared to being deathly sick, stuck in a hospital bed suffering hallucinations all day? I can spare some time. The company won’t sink just yet.

Hence the hasty agreement to bend the mighty power at his disposal to their whims in exchange for being taken to this hell place where he could gain a measure of magic similar to what Michael had. It worried him that Michael was the only one he could find any information about who had these powers. It was a gamble. He would be walking into unknown territory for possible gains his advisors would call questionable.

And yet. His gut told him to take the deal, and he always listened to his gut. One didn’t get this far in life without allowing at least a little bit of recognition to gut feelings. They weren’t always correct, but they always warranted listening, if anything, to get better information.

And information was what Travis Tyrell was after. He knew where the entrance to hell was, at least roughly, but what he did not know was what he would find inside. Michael had talked about great danger, so much so that even with his might and protection—which were still to be seen, as Travis had only seen healing in action—his safety was not guaranteed.

It was enough to make him pause. Surely Michael and that David guy had no intention of killing him. They would gain nothing from it. As with kidnapping. It would only draw attention to them and scorch the ground they walked on.

Surely Michael did not have the balls to do any of that, even though David might, if he could gain from it. Now, then, what sort of place is so dangerous not even someone who can heal a deadly brain tumor in five minutes can guarantee my safety?

Fear of death, so soon after being healed, was the only reason why Travis had not gone all in. He knew that if he had wanted, he could have thrown so many benefits at the duo that they would have had to just take him to hell there and then, no questions asked. But he refrained from doing so, despite his trepidation. Travis was, despite his position, not a patient person. He was quite impulsive, and he knew it well. He took action, seizing any random chance he stumbled upon.

But for now… Assuming their promise of power was real, what was left to see was how much of the danger they spoke about was actually real danger. It was the true make or break point of it all, and the reason Travis had agreed to be put in their debt in exchange for access to the place of power. It was not access he was paying for: it was protection. Michael was a veteran of that place, he knew what to expect.

One trip to hell, then Travis would decide for himself. Either he was going to crush them like ants, and take what was theirs for himself, or not. For the kind of power he was promised, he was willing to give away his own mother. His company and power were but a small price to pay. One could always rebuild, after all.

***

David D Chestermill

“Don’t know about it,” David said tiredly, “I’m not in the business anymore.”

The voice on the other end of the phone call was surprised.

“I know. I found something better to do with my time,” he said, “what’s so strange about it? Yeah. Exactly. More lucrative for sure. Yeah, that’s not even half of it. No. Maybe, if I need to plan events or stuff. Yeah, I’ll keep it in mind, bye.”

With that, he dismissed the call, so that he could focus on the documents he had been given. He had had to hire a secretary to handle the increasing load of work he was doing on Michael’s behalf, but now and then old acquaintances tried to get in touch with him to use his old services. Other than a secretary he also had to rent a temporary office where he would stay until construction was completed on the land that was soon-to-be theirs.

All of it was with Michael’s money, of which he had more than enough to keep the early stages of the plan going, of course. Plus his fee. Michael didn’t mind, of course, and not just because he was naïve and a fool—the good kind of fool, those who still had ideals and joy for life in their eyes. No.

Michael knew that there was more to be made soon, a line of ailing and sick people forming in search of a miracle only one person on the planet could deliver. Some of them weren’t even all that sick, but they had annoying little problems they had been living with for far too long, and were willing to part with a lot of money to get rid of them.

Soon I’m going to have to expand my reach. Money won’t be enough anymore, and favors are too nebulous a thing. Sure, they can keep someone like Travis locked down, I hope, but not random strangers. What could I ask them? Assets? Stocks in their companies? Properties?

There was another stack of papers on his desk, tangentially related to the issue at hand.

The Saint Hernest project was going well. Dr Kavins proved to be even more of a nutjob than Michael had made him to be, and already the doctor had found some researchers willing to do grunt work in exchange for being able to see miracles happen in real time. All of them were skeptical, up until they had been shown the footage recorded by the hidden cameras and had seen the before and after test results.

Did they freak out when they realized it was magic? Of course.

Did they care about it now? Not at all. All they wanted to do was do research. Nutjobs.

They had all become like Dr Kavins. Some of them went ballistic, demanding to be hired even if it was at a ludicrously low pay. Michael, the softie idiot he was, would never allow them to be underpaid, and Dave was more than happy to tap into someone else’s money to make sure they weren’t.

To be fair, it’s not like Mike has money issues. He can just handwave them away with a couple of heals, an afternoon’s worth of work and he’s back in the green.

Besides, there was only to be gained if they paid their employees well. An NDA was scary and a good deterrent, but nothing beats having happy minions working for you—even better if their interests are aligned with your goals.

For once, the idea had come from Michael, surprising David with his surprisingly good insight. Must be because he’s a gen-Z or something and I’m a what, a boomer?

The doctors had been deterred by the NDA, the deal sweetened up by the huge sums on money they were paid—with more benefits to come once the later stages of the plan were in motion—and they were kept happy because they were allowed to do research they could only dream of before.

It was not all good however, he thought as his features darkened. Carmela. She’s ignoring me, and it’s not like I can just barge in through her door. Worse still, not only had she coldly rebuffed all attempts at communication, but it seemed like she was taking control of the Famiglia with violence, many deaths following in her wake. Some of them David had managed to sneak into Michael’s new care facility, given to the doctors to play with in exchange for some data, and what he found was harrowing.

Mutilated corpses. People with missing limbs, cauterized at the stumps. Some survivors were scarred for life, both in body and in mind. The worst of them…

It's like they were killed with a flamethrower. Michael could do much worse, of course, and even back when the Bulgarian attacked he did do some scary things but this. This is psycho level.

Now, the damage and wounds were not outside the realm of known science, unlike some of the things Michael did, but…

Why else would she shut us out like this? She must have found another magic user, one she successfully ensnared with her charms.

Sure, there other explanations, but David’s mind kept returning back to the same thought over and over again.

My surveillance network is insufficient for this. I hate to have to use someone else’s resources, but it’s time to call in a part of the favor.

“That was quick,” the voice at the other end of the phone said after barely two rings, “cashing in favors before you even show me the goods?”

“Mr Tyrell,” Old Dave said coolly, knowing he had the negotiating power, but that a wrong move would cost him dearly. “Don’t disrespect my intelligence. Let’s not pretend I am like Michael, alright?”

The CEO hummed. “You are the bad cop, aren’t you?”

“Just not as idealistic as a young fool. Although I am trying to teach him to be more guarded.”

“Ha! Guarded. Good one. I saw you replace the guard you had hovering around him all the time. What, didn’t trust your little mafia friend?”

David swallowed. At that moment, he was glad he was only speaking on the phone, otherwise the CEO would have seen him flinch and break into a sweat. Shit, this guy is good.

“She is up to something,” he said, deciding to gamble on a strategy, “you have means. I want to know why she’s so arrogant she thinks she can just ditch us.”

“Not a smart move, Dave.” Mr Tyrell said condescendingly, “what if she has a better offer than you do? What if I turn on you?”

Dave nodded, knowing that this was coming. “You want a better deal for yourself, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do.”

“Whatever she can offer, we can offer more. She’s grasping at straws, while we have a whole strategy figured out. We have been doing this much longer.”

“Not good for a sales pitch, old man, sounding desperate and all,” the CEO said, and Dave was painfully aware of their gap in skills. That’s why I need to bring him to our side. “I will give you an out,” the CEO continued, “since it’s true that Michael healed me, and I owe him my life. It was just business, you know? But…”

He let the words hang in the air.

“But,” he said after a long pause, “it was my life we are talking about. That’s why I will play just a little bit against my interests, just for this once. I will spy on your little mafia friend, see what she’s up to. In exchange, all I ask is to be taken to this hell you spoke about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“What, too early? Yes, tomorrow. If you do that, then I swear that no matter what I find, I won’t side with her.”

He prefers a sure way to power rather than an unknown. Besides, he thinks he can turn on us anyway if he finds out Michael is weak and the power he promises is worse than what Carmela has. This means he knows Carmela has magic on her side. What he doesn’t know is what Michael is capable of. He wants to find out about it in the dungeon, but I know already, which gives me the advantage. It’s not a safe bet, but I am willing to bet that Carmela’s magic user is weaker than Michael or she would have moved against us already, to cut us out of the dungeon.

David’s mind was spinning. The magic user she has is either coming from another entrance to the dungeon, or is using the same one we use. Either way, I need to warn Michael.

“Deal,” David said, the pause just enough to hopefully make the CEO sweat a little and not reveal his hand. “I need to ask Mike, but I am sure I can convince him. Of course, it’s a favor we are doing you.”

“Of course.”

He will change his mind, David thought after the call, he won’t be so cocky anymore after he goes through the first floor of the dungeon.

Michael had shown David some videos he had managed to record while he fought, which was why David was confident that Mr Tyrell would change his mind rather quickly about the whole deal. He will become much more subdued and friendly, at the very least. The power is just too enticing for someone like him. But the strings attached to it… those are the real insurance.

For a moment, David considered being more careful in the future. Allowing Mr Tyrell to witness the healing procedure, even though he paid for it, had been the reason they were in this whole mess. Potential mess. But then again, potential didn’t mean actual and there was so much to gain that his greed took over. The conversation with the CEO had been a clash of greeds: one hungering for material things, the other for otherworldly power. Each craving what the other had to offer, but not yet able to trust each other.

Would others behave the same way? Or would they be more dangerous? In the end, David decided to be more careful, but not to the point where he would let opportunities like this one slip by because of his paranoia.