Sonny was seething inside, but it didn't stop him from enjoying his second Alaskan king crab. He cracked open a thick claw and dipped the white meat in succulent butter sauce. He didn't know what Augustino's put in the sauce, but it was his favorite among the hundreds of four-star restaurants that knew him on a first-name basis. Despite his anger, Sonny wasn't about to let the situation spoil his dinner. Especially when someone else was picking up the tab.
The generous young man paying for the expensive meal sat across the table. The tall youngster with curly black hair looked calm, relaxed, patient. He wore a suit, but it was frumpy and even outright wrinkled in places. It reminded Sonny of something Peter Falk wore in that old Columbo show. Connell Kirkland obviously wasn't a typical mining corporation executive, not at all what Sonny was used to. The executive's appearance, however, was of little concern at the moment.
The most pressing question was how fast this man had made contact — less than twenty-four hours after Sonny picked up the sample testing results. After sending Chloe home with a generous tip, Sonny went looking for Herbert but wasn't surprised that the backstabber hadn't been in all day.
Herbert's betrayal infuriated Sonny. That kind of thing just wasn't done; it was the very reason Sonny always hid his finds and always had his samples tested at the same place. Apparently that strategy had paid off. If Sonny had given Herbert the find's location, Kirkland and his company would already be greasing the local politicians and buying up the property rights.
"Interestin’ that you know of that find, Mr. Kirkland,” Sonny said between mouthfuls of crab. “I hadn't told many people — how'd you discover it?"
Connell stared hard for a moment, expression never changing, then answered. “Let's cut the bullshit, Mr. McGuiness. I'm not going to play games with you and I hope you're not going to play them with me. You know damn well where I got the information. How you handle that aspect of the situation is up to you, I really don't care. The important thing is that I know of your find, I want it, and I want it before anyone else finds out about it."
Kirkland's abruptness surprised Sonny. Company men were usually smiles and compliments and bullshit. This guy was all business. Connell struck Sonny as the kind of man who'd sell his own mother to a Bangkok whorehouse if she could turn a regular profit.
"That would be expensive,” Sonny said after washing his crab down with a big swig of milk. He never drank during business. He knew better than to lose his wits around people like Connell Kirkland.
"How expensive, Mr. McGuiness?"
Sonny took another big bite, using the napkin he'd tucked into his shirt collar to dab at some butter running through his beard. He chewed thoughtfully, staring right back at Connell. A small smile played mischievously at the wrinkles around Sonny's eyes.
"Fifteen million.” He took another bite of crab. He'd expected the number to shock the executive, at least a little. Connell's gaze never fluttered.
"Perhaps if you owned the land and the mineral rights, we'd play with that number,” Connell said. “But you own neither. And we both know that if you tried to buy them, we'd outbid you instantly and you'd be left with dick. Let's not bother talking about claim-jumping and other legalities. EarthCore's lawyers have twenty years experience beating cases just like this one. We'll pay one million dollars."
Sonny kept chewing, but felt his anger rising. He didn't notice a tiny bit of crab meat that perched on his beard, jiggling with each syllable. “You listen to me, you little fuck. You wanna play tough? I'll go to a dozen other companies with what I've found and start a biddin’ war that will make you bend over, grab your ankles and beg me to fuck your ass if I give you the original price. Fifteen million is what I'm askin’ and someone will pay it. You want the site? Fine, then you're gonna play by my rules. I been handlin’ people like you since before you was a tingle in your daddy's little pecker."
"Oh?” Connell said. A smile of his own peeked out. “Somehow I doubt that you've ever dealt with someone like me."
"Forget it, Kirkland. I'm contacting Impala Platinum and the Stillwater company first thing tomorrow morning. I know damn well what I've got, and I'm putting it up on the open market. The only person who will know the location is the one who pays the most money, so your lawyer friends won't have any chance to jump the claim. If you want to play ball, fine, but you're going to have to bid on it just like everybody else."
Connell nodded, then pulled some papers from a briefcase and slid them across the table.
"Take a look at that, Mr. McGuiness,” Connell said, the smile gone from his lips. “You'll see that your friend Mr. Darker was very helpful to us. Remember the gold find you sold to the Jorgensson Mining Cooperative in 1994? You know, the one that netted you six hundred and fifty thousand dollars? The one that went bust when the initial high-grade ore gave out after only a month of mining?"
"I don't guarantee my finds!” Sonny's forkful of crab bounced like a pointed finger, shaking at Connell with each word. “Everybody knows they're paying for a location, that's it! I've been doing business that way for twenty-five years."
"Yes, of course, Mr. McGuiness,” Connell said calmly. “But in front of you is a statement from Mr. Darker saying that you knew the vein was small and that the ore grade was too low to be profitable beyond the first hundred-thousand tons. According to Mr. Darker, you knew damn well that the mine was a lemon, yet you sold it anyway."
Sonny's eyes widened with fury and his jaw dropped, the tiny piece of crap still clinging precariously to his beard. He'd done an honest trade for decades. Never screwed anybody. People knew the risks when he sold a location. No site was a sure thing. That was part of the game.
"I didn't know any such thing, you stupid fuck!” Sonny stood up abruptly, his chair scooting backward and falling on the floor. Other diners cast disapproving glances his way. “The ore I found near the surface was very rich. They agreed with my findings and that's why they bought the location!"
"That's not what Mr. Darker will say in court, after I pass this information on to the Jorgensson people, Mr. McGuiness."
Connell maintained a blank expression, while Sonny's wrinkled face betrayed murderous rage. Sonny knew, now more than ever, that this find was the big one, the proverbial mother lode. Blackmail was a risk, a big risk, and people didn't play this kind of cock-out hardball unless the payoff was worth such a risk. More than likely it was the biggest find of Sonny's long career — and now this gawky, blank-faced sonofabitch wanted to steal it.
If Sonny had been twenty years younger he'd have tossed the table aside and smashed Connell's nose like it were a ripe tomato. But those days were gone — at sixty-two he still worked the mountains better than men a third his age, but brawling wasn't a skill that had followed him into his golden years.
"Mr. McGuiness, please calm down,” Connell said, his expression now full of understanding. “I'm not going to use this on you unless you force my hand. We both know it's bullshit, but that doesn't matter. Jorgensson lost millions on that deal, and if they think out you knew the mine was a lemon, they'll come after you with both barrels blazing. They'll want to make an example of you. With your prison record, you know you'll end up in jail. Now save us some time with the ‘I'm innocent’ and ‘that charge will never stick’ crap because we both know you're fucked."