The ominous doors leading to the CEO’s office whisked open as Falcon stepped through them with a black wing-tipped shoe. Kristen, Bosak’s personal assistant glanced up from her computer and smiled.
“Right on time, Mister Falcon.” She pressed a button on the intercom. “Sir? Mister Falcon is here for your ten o’clock.”
“Send him right in,” the gruff voice on the other end spoke. “Oh, and Kristen?”
“Yes, Mister Bosak?”
“Take a nice long break. Enjoy yourself. Just come back after lunch.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“Don’t mention it. Now, please send him in.” She closed the connection and stood up from her desk, smoothing her skirt across her thighs. Falcon watched it all with mock indifference, barely containing his enthusiasm for the landmark meeting waiting beyond the anteroom.
“This way, sir.” She ushered him to the door, as she bent her head towards the retinal scanner on the wall. The machine whirred and beeped, finally chiming its approval as the door clicked and hissed as the pressure lock disengaged. “Have a productive meeting, sir!” Falcon gave her a subtle smile and a wink and stepped into Xanadu.
The doors slid gently closed and locked in place. The room was filled with a recording of Tibetan monks’ guttural chanting.
Falcon looked around. Only the elite made it this far into the inner sanctum. Falcon had been here three times before. A tiny corner of Paradise in an otherwise sterile corporate world. Skylights illuminated the tropical green house portion of the vast suite as he strode down the walkway toward the back where a glass partition kept one part of the room at optimal office room temperature year round.
As he approached the partition, Bosak’s bodyguard stepped imposingly into the crystal doorframe. A Japanese in his mid-forties, wearing a finely tailored dark suit. Falcon wasn’t sure if it was grey, brown, black or navy, as it seemed to adapt to the lighting. Twin blades snaked down from his cuffs and he stood at attention. Falcon gulped. Most people had never seen him before, as his job was to keep to the shadows and eliminate potential threats before Bosak became aware of them.
“It’s OK, Yamato-san. He has an appointment. I’ll be with you in one moment, Oliver.” Yamato bowed politely to Falcon and stepped aside. The blades disappeared up his sleeves. Falcon nodded and stepped into the office.
Bosak had his back to him, talking on the phone. The office was pristine, feng-shui in every respect. There were no congested dragons to be found anywhere. Tapestries from all countries adorned the walls, and there was an ornate church door leading to a panic room where Bosak handled his most confidential matters. An antique gold gong hung on triple-reinforced struts behind Bosak’s desk.
Falcon waited to be seated, admiring the office knowing that, if all went well, someday it (or one like it) would be his.
Bosak concluded his phone conversation and turned around, tucking the mobile into his breast pocket. He stepped toward Falcon, hand outstretched. Falcon took it and shook firmly.
“How are you, Oliver?” Bosak’s eyes studied him with a calm scrutiny. Gently, he released his grip and Falcon put on his best salesman’s face, attempting to smile warmly back. His cold eyes belied the expression, twisting his face into a predatory grin.
“I am absolutely fabulous, sir. We’re excited by what’s going on with the new project.” He reached into his pocket and proffered a memory stick to the CEO. Bosak took it and placed it gently on the desk by his console. Falcon looked disappointed.
