Uninvited Guests
(Andrew Dole’s POV)
“You didn’t fly eleven hours to hand me paperwork,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “So tell me–what are you really offering?”
Mr. Chang didn’t bat an eye. “We’re offering you seven months of foresight. And thirty–five percent of the future.”
The audacity. “I let the smirk rise, unapologetic. Let them read into it whatever they wanted.”
Before I could speak, Claus leaned forward, a touch of mockery in his tone. “You might want to pick your words more carefully. Around here, the future costs more than equity.”
The man seated beside Chang–tall, broad, the kind who probably smiled in mirrors to practice intimidation–leaned in. “The cost has already been paid. Our infrastructure is live. Our systems are moving. We’re not selling empty words, Mr. Dole.”
I glanced at Claus. Then back to them.
“And I’m supposed to believe that,” I said, “based on a laminated
certificate?”
This time, the tall one actually smiled. “No. Based on outcomes.”
There it was. The bait. I’d been in enough boardrooms to recognize the trajectory–the steady pulse of men who thought they were offering treasures, unaware I already owned the mine.
10:3303
Uninvited Guests
Mr. Chang shifted in his seat, slowly, like a man rehearsed in patience.
280 (Vouchers
“You’re a man of pattern, Mr. Dole. You wait. You hit. You gain. That’s your pattern.” His words floated, deliberate. “We’ve built a pattern too. Only now, we want to amplify it. With your access.”
“And your money,” Claus added, his tone as dry as Harmattan.
Chang lowered his head. “Naturally.”
I finally allowed myself a pause. A moment to assess–not the offer, but the men making it.
Mr. Chang was elegance wrapped in strategy. His charcoal suit–not off- the–rack–was tailored with surgical precision. Brioni, maybe, but altered in ways that whispered old–world luxury. The stitching shimmered faintly in the pale lighting, like it had been threaded with fine linings. His white shirt bore a bone–colored collar, embroidered in subtle Chinese script. No tie. Just a thin black pin below his throat–sleek, sharp, modest.
Not a man of excess. A man of symbolism.
His hair, parted and gelled without a single rebel strand, matched the stillness of his face. Controlled. Cold. Calculating.
To his left sat Lee–young, brilliant, and dressed to prove it. dark blue suit, mandarin collar, paired with a black turtleneck. It was a tech mogul’s rebellion against traditionalism, wrapped in confidence.
Then there was Lang–the silent threat. Broader than the other two, his navy suit was boxier, less refined, more military. His wrist bore a Panerai watch meant for divers or assassins. His gaze locked on mine like we were playing a long game of chess beneath the table. If Chang was the strategist and Lee the mind, Lang was the muscle.
Together, they didn’t just walk into this room. They lightened it without
10 33
288 Vouchers
Uninvited Guests
raising their voices.
“You say Victor Maddock vouched for you,” I said, letting the pause stretch between syllables. “But Maddock likes to play diplomat. I need more than just his words.”
Chang didn’t blink. He opened a folder with the grace of a judge about to pronounce a sentence.
“Page ten,” he said. “Victor Maddock’s signature. Next to Dr. Lao Kang, head of finance at AEC. Both documents were signed within 8 hours of each other. Both under federal witness.”
Claus leaned forward, flipping. I watched his brow lift.
“These aren’t scans,” he murmured. “These are original signatures. Wet ink.”
“Exactly,” Chang said softly. “You burn us, you burn them.”
I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “And yet here you are. Asking me to dance.”
“We’re not asking for a dance,” Lee said. “We’re offering you the party ground.”
He tapped the screen beside him. The table lit up–an interactive feed of Westport’s shipping lanes. Warehouses labeled Bright–Gates. Crates with barcodes moving in real time under an unsettled sky. Aerial drones gliding between terminals.
Not promo footage.
Live satellite. Unfiltered.
“We own sixty–one percent of active freight permits across the West
10:33
Uninvited Queste
11
Coast,” Lee said, “Once the regulation shift hits, domestic partners will need foreign backing. That’s when our logistics structure becomes a mandatory artery. We’re not asking for your money. We’re making an offering that will last beyond a lifetime.”
Claus whistled under his breath. “They’re not playing small ball.”
I stayed silent.
I was watching Lang again. He hadn’t moved. Barely spoken. But he knew I was watching. He was rather busy responding to what seemed to be a chat on his phone.
“You could’ve gone to Riverside Street,” I said. “Or Golden Bay. Old- money firms with names your translators wouldn’t butcher.”
“And have our strategy leaked before the plane landed?” Lang said. His voice was a rumble. Grounded. “We came to you because you don’t leak.”
The room thickened. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
I stood slowly and walked to the edge of the glass wall.
My city.
My rules.
“If I say no?”
Chang’s voice dropped. “Then we walk slower. But louder. And when the earth quakes, you’ll be outside the fortress–knocking on our door.”
It wasn’t arrogance.
It was certainty.
I turned back to them. Then to the folder. My fingers brushed the matte
Seurated Guests
paper, heavy with ink and repercussion.
1282 Vouchers
“Thirty–five percent equity,” I said. “Full oversight of U.S. tax structuring. I pick the auditor. You don’t get to change terms after signing.”
“All yours.” Chang said.
I didn’t smile. I didn’t blink.
Then-
A sharp knock.
Heads turned.
The glass doors opened, and Veronica slipped in–quiet but purposeful, her heels making no sound against the floor. She didn’t speak at first, just made a beeline toward me, weaving between the long conference table and the curious stares of the Hong Kong delegates.
She leaned in close, her breath barely brushing my ear. “Ms. Jane is here. She’s waiting in your office.”
I didn’t reply immediately. Instead, my eyes flicked to the sleek black dial of my watch.
Thirty minutes early.
This meeting was crucial–high stakes and delicate negotiations–but the arrangement with Jane carried a weight far beyond any paper on that table.
Treached for my jacket draped over the back of my chair and slipped it on in one fluid motion. Then I turned to face the delegates.
“Gentlemen,” I said, my voice smooth but resolute, “Claus will take over
€5.65%
10:33
Uninvited Guests
