Chapter 1: Samantha Aguerrie
CHAPTER 1
Inside the spacious, dimly lit private room overlooking the port, where long fluorescent tubes on the ceiling cast a pale glow on the surface of the dark polished wood, a large rectangular table was set for a meeting.
Four men occupied the seats. Each wearing expensive suits and watches. Their expressions were tight from the ongoing negotiation. Their own men stood silent and disciplined at a short distance behind them.
All these men had more than two or three bodyguards standing close to them, the others against the wall. But everyone in the room had the same vigilant stillness. Their hands were never far from the weapons concealed beneath their suits, ready for the moment when words failed and the meeting turned bloody.
The discussion continued at the long table. Voices were controlled but the tones were turning edgy at some point.
“This shipment was delayed due to your men changing the shipping route without notification.”
“They were informed.”
“Three hours before docking does not qualify as notice.”
“They accepted the cargo.”
The negotiation simmered hotter with every exchange.
Not far from the center table, another round table occupied a dark corner overlooking the port through tinted windows. Cards were being slapped onto the surface of its polished wood top.
Three men were gathered here. Their clothing looked casual, but their stances suggested otherwise, jackets loosened or removed, sleeves pushed back slightly above the wrist, and half-filled drinks resting near scattered betting chips.
And sitting together with them was the only woman in the room.
She wore well-fitting black pants and a dark blouse under a smart coat draped over the back of her chair, one leg casually crossed over the other in a way.
She stared down at the cards in her hand. She sighed. She was bad at these things. But maybe luck was now on her side. Her eyes were trained on her cards but her ears and mind were focused on the business being conducted at the main table. She took in the shift of their voices. The situation was changing. And she felt the air getting tighter. She leaned back a bit further in her chair, looping one arm casually across her stomach.
“Yes!” Exclaimed the youngest man among the players across from her. He tossed his cards onto the table and leaned forward with an arrogant grin on his face. “Another win. Haha!”
The other two men cursed. “Damn it.”
“You’ve been holding all the good cards.”
The young man smirked triumphantly.
The only woman with them remained silent. She leaned forward closer to the table, her back straight. Then she laid her cards face down with both hands on top of them. Her face was void of any expression.
The young man leaned in, his smile turning curious. “That bad, Ms. Aguerrie?” he asked. “Don’t want to show your cards?”
She didn’t answer.
His smile broadened. “Scared of losing another million?”
He was only responded by silence.
She shifted her gaze, not to his face, but to his hand. It rested casually on the surface near hers at the center. Her expression remained stoic. Then she leaned forward a little further in her chair, not so far as to appear aggressive, but just enough to suggest she might be about to stand.
She tilted her head slightly and looked towards the other table. The conversations there had gone quieter.
One of the businessmen had stopped smiling. Another tapped his finger on the wood once, slowly. A guard by the far wall subtly shifted the weight of his body and adjusted his jacket.
Suddenly the room was swallowed by silence for a second.
Just long enough for the sound of a person breathing to be audible. Just long enough for one person from the back to shift a foot once and instantly regret having made that noise.
Even the people at Samantha’s table started to notice something changing. Especially the young man sitting across from her. His grin faltered as his eyes shifted to the negotiation table a little far from his side.
Then everything moved at once as if a ‘play’ button were pressed.
The unmistakable sound of a chair being scraped violently against the floor.
One of the men from the large table stood up and removed a gun from the lining of his coat, aiming directly at the end of the table. To the other man who was also now on his feet but was weaponless.
Some of the guards seemed to be delayed by a second.
Hector Aguerrie barely glanced at Logan’s men behind him, also pointing their guns at him.
His eyes scanned the room for his own men. But they were a second too late to raise anything on their own. There was no hope there. And then he spoke only one name.
“Samantha?”
“D-Dad!”
The exclamation was from the same young man playing cards at the other table behind them.
Everyone at the large table stopped and looked towards the smaller one as they finally became aware that something else had already transpired there too.
Samantha Aguerrie was now standing. And the young man’s hand was pressed flat against the table beneath hers.
“What? I’m a little busy here.” She responded to Hector.
Her fingers were pressed down so hard over his four fingers that they were crushing his bones, which forced a painful grunt from the young man as his shoulders slumped.
But that was not the thing that terrified him most. It was the knife. Nobody even knew when she had taken it out.
The pointed tip was touching the table’s surface but the blade’s edge was at the base of his thumb, resting lightly against his skin. Dangerously lightly.
One wrong move and it would cut deeper, as a small crimson line had already begun to trickle down the steel blade and drop onto the wood.
The two men that they had been playing with at their table immediately sat back up in their chairs, hands halfway in the air. Not in panic. But with caution. They knew that they weren’t targets. Their bosses weren’t involved in the sudden disagreement with the Aguerries from the other side. Still, no one felt safe.
Samantha inclined her head as she spoke to the young man who was struggling underneath her hand. “How about this…” her voice sounded too calm for the situation they were in. “If I win, I’ll take a finger instead of millions.”
There was no hesitation in her stance or doubt that she would back out otherwise. And that somehow made him feel worse.
“N-no,” stammered the young man rapidly. “I’ll double it. T-triple it.” He didn’t even bother to fight. The blade was pushed deeper into his skin and another trickle of blood trickled down his hand, crawling on the table. Then he looked up with wide eyes, stricken with terror at his father, the same man who had a gun pointed directly at Hector Aguerrie. “Dad!”
