The chairman, seated at the head of the table, heaved a long, exasperated sigh. Why do I keep ending up with such imbeciles as teammates?
Yes, during the board meeting two weeks ago, it had indeed been suggested that if negotiations with the writer failed, they could resort to force to acquire the technology. But for heaven's sake, negotiations hadn't even started yet! And now this fool had already sent mercenaries?
Did no one bother to review the writer's background properly?
The dossier clearly detailed the writer's history, including his prior conflict with Japanese operatives. It described how his private estate had been transformed into a veritable fortress, complete with security measures more reminiscent of a military base than a civilian property. The chairman was particularly dumbfounded to learn that the writer had somehow acquired Russian Shilka self-propelled anti-aircraft guns for his estate.
How on earth is the U.S. government allowing this?
This was Long Island, New York—barely a stone's throw from Manhattan! Yet the authorities had turned a blind eye. Apparently, in America, having enough money really did allow one to do as they pleased. Even the chairman, who wielded considerable power, didn't dare station such blatantly militarized equipment on his own estate.
What's more, the writer's bodyguards were former elite operatives from Russia's Signal Flag unit. Did Rajad, the idiot responsible for this mess, not even glance at the file?
Looking at Rajad, who was grinning smugly and basking in his self-perceived brilliance, the chairman felt an overwhelming urge to shoot him on the spot.
Does this man have no sense of his own limitations?
Sure, Rajad was of high Kshatriya caste, but who ever said high birth came with high intelligence? He was living proof to the contrary. If Rajad had bothered to read the dossier, even briefly, he would have realized that sending mercenaries into New York to target the writer was sheer lunacy.
Had he been drinking?
If Rajad's plan went forward, it wouldn't just fail—it would backfire spectacularly. Even as a state-owned enterprise from India, they would be left to clean up a colossal international scandal.
Unable to tolerate Rajad's idiocy any longer, the chairman, who rarely lost his temper, finally exploded, revealing why he was the one in charge.
"Rajad, you pigheaded fool! Sit down, shut your mouth, and listen!"
Rajad, who had been gleefully arguing with his detractors just moments before, immediately deflated. The chairman's caste and authority far outweighed his own. Reluctantly, he slumped into his seat, his bravado replaced with a sulky silence.
Still fuming, the chairman addressed him. "Tell me, did you even read the intelligence report on this writer? Are you unaware that he was previously attacked by mercenaries sent by the Japanese? That incident was widely publicized!
"The defenses this man deployed during that attack were leagues beyond what your hired mercenaries could ever handle. And yet you sent them anyway?"
Rajad looked genuinely confused. "What report? You mean the one handed out during the last meeting? Of course, I read it! It said he's a bestselling novelist and mentioned something about drones…"
The chairman felt his blood pressure spike. The fool had clearly skimmed only the first page of the report before deciding to act. Gritting his teeth, he unleashed a torrent of profanity that could have been scripted by the finest trolls of the internet.
"Rajad, you absolute moron! Did you think this writer was some powerless peasant? He's a shareholder in Northrop and the DuPont consortium! Do you even realize the potential consequences if this blows up in our faces?
"And you didn't even bother to finish reading the dossier before sending people to New York?!"
The other board members, most of whom had little love for the arrogant Kshatriya, smirked as the chairman tore into him.
"Serves you right, you idiot," one muttered under his breath. "Dragging down the board's collective IQ all by yourself…"
The verbal lashing continued for a full ten minutes before Rajad, finally grasping the gravity of his actions, stammered out a weak response. "So you're saying the writer has significant security measures? My mercenaries won't even be able to get close?
"Well… can't we just kidnap his wife and child instead?"
The room erupted in groans of disbelief. Even the most patient of the board members had reached their limit.
"Enough already," the chairman's deputy interjected. "Boss, I know Rajad's stupidity could fill volumes, but this isn't getting us anywhere. His mercenaries haven't acted yet, right? So technically, we haven't done anything irreversible.
"Let's focus on the real issue—how to contact the writer and negotiate peacefully. You can deal with Rajad later."
Rajad, realizing he was teetering on the edge of alienating the entire board, wisely shut his mouth.
The chairman, though still simmering with anger, acknowledged the logic in his deputy's words. If nothing irreversible had occurred yet, there was still time to salvage the situation. The priority now was figuring out how to approach the writer and resolve the matter diplomatically.
While the bumbling Indian executives spent their sleepless night wrangling over damage control, Castle was enjoying a lively gathering at his Long Island estate. Everyone present—except for the ever-dutiful Alexis and the diaper-clad Onona—held a drink in hand, savoring the fine wines and gourmet foods prepared for the evening.
Even Neil had managed to drag the reclusive "Chubby" out of his underground lab. The two were now huddled together, engaged in a hushed discussion about which country's women were the most captivating.
Though Neil was renowned for his globe-trotting romantic escapades, "Chubby" wasn't far behind. Despite his past as a reclusive nerd, he had once traveled to Rio de Janeiro and gained some "hands-on" experience with the local culture. Strictly speaking, Chubby was nowhere near Neil's league, but he had seen more of the world than Castle, who had been tied down by Beckett and his responsibilities.
Meanwhile, Alexis had taken it upon herself to keep Onona entertained. Ensuring the toddler stayed safe and occupied, she played with her on a section of the lawn away from the crowd.
The party, free of work talk, was exactly what Castle had intended—a chance to unwind. Whether it was Neil's stock market maneuvers against Le Chiffre, the scheming Indian executives, or Steve's revenge plot in Hawaii, all such concerns were momentarily set aside.
For now, they would simply enjoy the evening. Even Beckett, usually reserved, joined in the revelry, laughing as Castle—typically so irreverent—debated child-rearing strategies with Gianna and John. Watching her usually chaotic boyfriend discuss education for Alexis and Onona brought a rare smile to her face.
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