Sharks - Matt Rogers (classic books for 11 year olds txt) 📗

life is a vacation then it becomes the new normal. We’d kick our feet up on a beach for a month or so and then long for a city. The grass is always greener.’

‘You seem pretty sure. Might be worth testing it out.’

Violetta shrugged. ‘If that’s what Will thinks is best.’

They were joking, but when they turned their attention back to him they realised he was still serious.

Alexis said, ‘What is it?’

‘I’m getting rid of it.’

‘What?’

‘All of it.’

Alexis didn’t respond.

Violetta sat mute.

King said, ‘You deposited it in Switzerland, didn’t you?’

Slater nodded. ‘And from there, I’m sure it went to tax havens like the one we’re sitting in. That’s the beauty of bank secrecy laws. It’s churning away for me without consequence. I may as well have loaned it to Walcott myself.’

Violetta shook her head. ‘It’s not the same.’

‘Not exactly,’ Slater said. ‘But close enough.’

They all fell quiet.

Slater said, ‘Do any of you have a problem with that?’

Alexis said, ‘Do we have enough outside of that?’

They hadn’t explicitly talked about it yet, but she had the general idea. She’d been a civilian a few months ago. A paralegal in New York City, with a modest salary at best, all of it going to rent and utilities and regular social outings. Life in the Big Apple was expensive, and she hadn’t exactly been rolling in cash. King, Slater and Violetta were enigmas in comparison, all of them receiving undisclosed fees in exchange for dangerous work for the government. Off-the-books money, taken straight from the Treasury, logged nowhere, deposited straight into numbered accounts. She didn’t know their exact financial situation.

Funnily enough, King had the same question.

Violetta’s previous occupation made her the perfect accountant. She handled the purchases, the day-to-day costs of living on a private estate in Vegas, the moving of money from account to account in collaboration with Alonzo, their tech contact who guaranteed their security and anonymity.

King looked to her.

She nodded, then looked to Slater.

He nodded too.

Slater said, ‘We don’t need it.’

‘What if—?’ Alexis began, and Slater knew where she was headed.

‘If we need more money in future,’ he said, ‘we’ll get it. We’re not exactly risk-averse, are we?’

Alexis shook her head.

Slater looked at King.

King said, ‘It’s your money. It’s your call.’

‘You don’t have any qualms?’

‘I get why you’re doing it.’

‘That’s enough?’

‘That’s enough.’

Slater cast his gaze around the table.

Everyone nodded.

‘That was easier than I thought,’ he said. ‘Figured at least one of you would take some convincing.’

‘Do we look like we need four hundred million dollars?’ Violetta said.

Alexis raised her beer, swept an arm around the table, then out to the beach. ‘This is about all I need.’

King said, ‘You thought we were greedy?’

Slater shrugged. ‘It’s human nature to protect what you’ve got. Some people would think it’d be a shame to lose it all.’

King said, ‘We’re not some people.’

A pause.

King said, ‘I had an idea, too.’

Now Slater raised an eyebrow.

‘Why don’t we extend our stay another couple of weeks?’

They all looked at him, waiting for an elaboration.

He said, ‘There’s a power vacuum now. Dylan Walcott ran an empire. Predators are always going to exist. Someone’s going to try to take the throne.’

‘Is that our concern?’ Slater said.

‘I like the weather,’ King said. ‘And the sand, and the sun, and the surf. I’d want to stay for a while regardless. Why don’t we see what unfolds in the meantime?’

Violetta said, ‘Fine by me.’

Slater said, ‘Looking for a fight, aren’t you?’

‘Always,’ King said. ‘So are you.’

Slater nodded. The smile wouldn’t leave his face.

Alexis stayed quiet.

They all turned to her.

She cocked her head. ‘What?’

‘Are you on board?’

She touched a hand to the bruising on the side of her face, the cut under her eye. From there they could see the burning desire in her green irises.

‘Boys,’ she said, ‘just in case you still don’t understand, I’ve been on board ever since I stepped out of my loft in the Bowery.’

The waves lapped at the shore.

‘Besides,’ she said, ‘I’m more of a fan of smashing heads together than I thought I’d be.’

King fetched a fresh beer out of the cooler beside his chair, ripped the top off, and raised it to the sky. ‘To the fight.’

‘To the fight,’ his three companions echoed.

No better sound on earth.

93

The next day, as the sun came up, Slater ran in off the beach, shirtless and glistening with sweat.

An eight-mile barefoot beach run, completed at a moderate pace. He’d kept his heart rate in Zone 2 so he didn’t lose his breath once. Not a max effort — far from it. All aerobic development comes from running at a conversational pace, and it’s an absolute law of the universe that the better you get at something, the easier it becomes, so the ease at which he ran actually made him better and faster than if he was sprinting until his lungs burned. He’d shed the inertia of that initial resistance long ago, and as soon as you’re out of the starting blocks, you’re off. What you once used to dread starts to become nothing more than a full body sweat to clear and sharpen the mind.

He felt clear.

He felt sharp.

All you have to do is start.

He went inside, where Alexis was making a coffee, and put his hands around her waist from behind. She leant back and touched her lips to his.

When they parted she said, ‘You want one?’

‘Please.’

He went through to their room, where the laptop rested on the desk in front of a floor-to-ceiling view of the beach. Rays of sunlight flooded in, playing off his chest. He sat down in his running shorts, inhaled once, and was still.

He opened the laptop.

Gabriel hadn’t called yet, but he would in the next hour or so, because close to half a billion dollars sat in Slater’s cash account. Ready for action. Slater hadn’t enlightened his financial advisor as to the next step for a good reason.

Gabriel’s lid would come off sooner or later when he realised he’d lost his future commissions. The banker surely had a fat salary