The Art of the Hustle 2 (Complete)

Chapter Fifty-Five

Walking into the large room, a man sat behind a tall chair like some sort of super villain. The chair spun around and the man revealed himself.

"Mr. Morrison, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to avoid me."

"Robert Whitman," Trevor said. "What's the meaning of all this?"

"My apologies, but I'm a man who usually gets what he wants."

"What do you want?"

"The same thing I wanted in Vancouver, just a few minutes of your time."

"So you take me here against my will. Hold me at gunpoint?"

"I'm so sorry to hear that, but I assure you I had no knowledge of that. I reached out to you through one of my companies, set up a meeting, and now here you are."

Trevor looked over at Lionel, but he was no longer in the room. It was just Trevor and Mr. Whitman in a spectacular office that overlooked Central Park. Trevor wondered why all the secrecy if the company was just going to show off the view from their building. One could easily figure out which building it was. Just then, the view changed to another part of the city. Trevor wasn't looking out a window at all. It was a large high-definition screen.

"I thought I made it pretty clear, I'm not interested in selling my company," Trevor said, still noticeably upset.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not entirely true, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Mr. Whitman said, rising from his chair and walking over to Trevor with a generous smile. In his hand he was holding a small box. "I'm not sure what you have heard about me to garner such a harsh attitude, but perhaps you were misinformed. Cigar?" he said, opening the box.

"No, thanks," Trevor said. "If it's all the same, I'd like to leave now."

"Please, all I ask is for a few minutes of your time. I know you're busy, but surely that isn't too much to ask. Afterwards, I will have my driver take you anywhere you'd like to go."

Trevor didn't respond.

"Please, take a seat," Mr. Whitman said, gesturing to one of the chairs. He walked back to his desk, but didn't sit down. He stared out the window and began to tell Trevor the reason for being so persistent.

With reluctance, Trevor took a seat meanwhile his eyes scanned the entire room.

"Nice glasses," Mr. Whitman said, "I don't recall you wearing those in our last encounter."

"They're new."

"They suit you."

Trevor didn't acknowledge the compliment.

"Mr. Morrison, as I'm sure you've probably guessed, I would like to be in business with you. I think what you've done with your company is incredible. Truly incredible. Hats off to you. But I want to see you take it to the next level. And while I think you may eventually get there on your own, it may not be within my lifetime, and I would like to see this transformation before I leave this Earth. It may be easier for you to partner with someone like me. I'm not sure how many years I have left in front of me, but I want my legacy to be marked by great achievement. I want to be remembered as a man who made an impact on the world. Do you know what I mean?"

"Sure."

"I believe what you have created is revolutionary. First by creating a no-cash economy. The impact of this could cause a massive disruption — reduction in crime, corruption, black market transactions, illegal trade... Markets will become more stable, the standard of living will increase, and the countries everywhere will flourish.

"Second, you will gather electronic records of every transaction. This will create an enormous volume of big data that could be used in various ways to gain valuable insight. Once this happens, Unity Inc. will be heralded as the greatest company in the world... and I want to be a part of that history."

"No deal," Trevor said bluntly. "My desire to be ethical trumps my desire to be successful. I will never compromise my morals for profit, which ironically is one of the reasons why I'm successful. And like you said, I will eventually do it on my own, so why do I need you? Perhaps I won't achieve this level of greatness within your lifetime, but what do I care about your life. It means nothing to me."

"That's a little harsh, wouldn't you say?" Mr. Whitman said.

"You took a completely different path than me. You lie, cheat, and swindle your way to the top. In fact, I'm still trying to figure out all the ways you're doing that to me now."

"Now you're just being rude," Mr. Whitman said. "But I will let it slide. I understand you've recently lost someone close to you. I can only imagine what that must have been like."

Trevor shifted in his seat.

"Are you sure there's nothing in this world that would make you change your mind?"

"Never in a million years would I do business with you."

"Oh, I don't know about that. A million years seems like a long time. I'm willing to bet I won't have to wait that long," Mr. Whitman said with a sinister grin.

Trevor was at a loss for words. He knew Whitman was up to something, but he couldn't figure out what it was. It was as if he were playing Trevor like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Think, Trevor. If you could have anything, one wish, what is the one thing you want in this whole world?"

Trevor didn't answer. Mr. Whitman approached him and whispered in his ear. "What if I could give you that thing?"

"What are you talking about?" Trevor said, pulling away.

"Come on, you're a smart guy. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Trevor rose from his chair and said, "I don't have time to play these games with you. You're a sociopath and belong in jail."

Standing face to face with Trevor, Mr. Whitman said, "Careful how you speak to me, boy. I don't always play nice."

"Don't call me boy," Trevor said.

"I can call you whatever I want."

"Listen old man, I don't know who you think I am, but there's not a single thing in the world I want from you. You're wasting your time."

"Am I?" Mr. Whitman said, pulling out a necklace from his pocket.