Page 11 of Fool’s Gold

Jack scratched his head. “They were actually trying to kill you.”

“Yup. People are right to be angry. Part of my job is to try to lower hostilities. Locking people up isn’t the way to go about it. If I have to, then I have to, but we do need to show a certain willingness to hear people out. Thanks for the update.” He stalked off to his room.

Norah curled her lip at Jack once Matt was gone. “Some protection you are.”

“Me?” Jack recoiled. “Look, ma’am, I’m doing everything I can.”

“You’ve made your feelings pretty clear. He’s never going to trust you. And he shouldn’t. I don’t trust you either.” She sniffed and turned her face away.

CHAPTERFIVE

Three days.Jack had been here three days since Matt had fired him, and as near as Matt could tell, he wasn’t going anywhere.

At least he’d taken to sleeping on the couch. He’d tried to sleep in Matt’s bedroom the first night, but Norah had taken it upon herself to lead him out, earlobe-first, much like she had the time Dinah Goode cornered him in the kitchen and tried to “kiss him straight” back in eighth grade. She’d offered to remove body parts, too, in a perfectly calm, matter-of-fact tone, and most people would have thought she was joking.

The way she snipped the yarn on her crochet project gave even snide, snarky Jack a moment of pause.

Matt did his best to pretend Jack wasn’t there. It wasn’t like he was protecting him from much. He hadn’t done much about the parking garage bombing. It wasn’t Jack’s fault—there wasn’t much he could have done. His orders kept him glued to Matt’s side, not prowling the building looking for suspicious devices.

Three people had been injured in the blast—two data scientists coming in for a rare in-office meeting, and a pregnant marketing specialist leaving for a doctor’s appointment. They weren’t killed, but their lives would be altered forever, and Matt felt each wound like it had ripped into his own flesh. He’d been the target, after all, so didn’t he bear some responsibility?

Not that it mattered. He couldn’t afford the time to ruminate about how much fault fell to him. He had damage control to manage. It wasn’t just his own career riding on the outcome.

Jack preferred that Matt stay out of sight, but Matt wasn’t bound by Jack’s opinions.

Now he stood in front of reporters and cameras and, presumably, the world’s judgment. “Thank you for being here today. I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out. I wanted to talk to you a little bit about the incident we had here three days ago. I’m sure most of you are already aware that the explosion in the parking garage was a bomb. That bomb was aimed at me, although the individuals charged placed it on the wrong car. I don’t drive a Mercedes, folks. I grew up on a farm. I might live in the city now, but there’s something in me that just cringes at the thought of the cost of paint on one of those things.”

He relaxed a little at the ripple of laughter running through the crowd. Leading with humor was always a good start. Matt hadn’t ever been a big fan of public speaking. He’d gone into accounting, for God’s sake. If that didn’t screamintrovertwith all caps he didn’t know what would. He’d put himself in this position, and he had to make the best of it.

“Anyway, I get that people are angry about what happened. I’m angry about it too. I don’t blame people for having a lot of frustration and looking for someone to take it out on. I don’t even mind that some folks have decided to take it out on me, although there are laws in this country that we’ve all got to abide by.

“Here’s the thing. Clement Joyce is just a data scientist. He’s only been with the company maybe six months, and now he’s sacrificed his left arm because y’all are mad atme. He’s not the one who came up with the idea to release a pathogen into the general public for science. He’s one of the people helping to try and clean up after the folks who did, and now he’s going to be in the hospital for months.

“Giselle Visser just got back from caregiver leave after taking care of her sick dad. It was her first day back. She was coming into the office to fill out some paperwork and have some meetings with Clem, but now, she’s got head injuries. She’s still unconscious, and the docs aren’t sure if she’ll ever wake up.

“And Beth Williams was just on her way out for a prenatal care visit with her doctor. Ireallyhope none of the people who set that bomb are calling themselves pro-life because she won’t be having any more of those visits. Beth survived, but she lost her pregnancy. And the doctors say it’ll take an act of God for her to have another one.” He bowed his head for a moment.

“It’s fine for people to hate the leadership at Besse, past or present, as much as they want. An evil thing was done. I’m not supposed to talk too much about it due to pending criminal and civil court cases, but I think we can all agree that what happened was so far from right it’s not even on the same map. I’m trying to right the ship, but these things take time and you don’t have to take my word for it. Maybe you shouldn’t—the person at this podium in the past hasn’t exactly set a great precedent, am I right?

“But ninety-nine percent of the people here in this facility are not the decision makers. They’re just normal folks trying to earn a living, no different from any of you watching this. They do not deserve to be maimed, harmed, or have their lives cut short because of how you feel aboutme. They deserve to live their lives in peace and liberty. Thank you.”

A woman reporter in a red suit asked the first question. “Mr. Taggart, did you have permission from the families to discuss the medical status of the victims?”

Matt grinned. It was a good question, and he was glad she asked it. “Thank you for checking that. I got permission from the two conscious victims and from the family of Ms. Visser. You can check with Legal for the waivers.”

Most of the questions were pretty banal, and the new chief counsel stepped in to answer them. Matt found himself being whisked away by Jack and Jamal Kingston, along with a handful of government types with earwigs. Something was going on, Matt wasn’t in charge of it, and given that it was his company for the moment he didn’t like it.

He bided his time until they got to his office.

Once inside, he seated himself at his desk, settled in, and gave everyone his best glower. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen? And is there a valid reason it couldn’t wait until after the press conference, or is this yet another power play on the part of ‘security’?”

Kingston raised an eyebrow. “Security doesn’t dopower plays, Mr. Taggart. We’re here for protection, nothing more.”

“Mmm.” Matt held his gaze just a little too long, just to get his point across.

One of the government types stepped forward. “Mr. Taggart? Martin Van Allen, Diplomatic Protection Service. Prince Daniel of Corvia is due to land here at any minute. The State Department has organized a reception for him, and while there are obvious challenges involved with inviting leadership from a controversial company such as Besse to a diplomatic reception, he and his husband are adamant that you attend.”

Matt closed his eyes. The US had fought an entire war so citizens wouldn’t be at the beck and call of royalty. “This isn’t exactly the right time for the CEO of Besse Pharma to be out hobnobbing and painting the town red, I’m afraid. It won’t do Corvia’s reputation any good to be seen rubbing elbows with the likes of me right now either. Thank you, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline.”

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