Only the Strongest Survive (42 page)

“
For
when?”

“In an hour.”

“
But you’re
meeting the CEO of Miners & Co. in an hour, and then at ten
thirty—”

“Cancel all my meetings.”

“
But in an
hour? … It’s impossible, Blake.”

“Do as you’re told.”

Maria heard
him disconnect. “I’m going to quit. I’ve had enough. I’ll go on
until the end of the day and that’s it,” she said out loud, and
then called all the board members.

At the
meeting, Blake said
, “I’m sure you all
know why I’ve called this meeting. If not, look at the front page
of
News
Continental
.” He pointed at the
newspapers lying in the middle of the conference table. As he
expected, only a few helped themselves, while the others waited for
him to go on.

Alexandra was
sitting upright, enjoying the performance.

Someone
said, “I don’t think
there’s any cause for panic yet. It’s just rumors that will soon
die away.”

“
I’m not sure
that’s right,” Alexandra said. She was one of the few people in the
company who was aware that many takeovers had not been completely
legal. If the journalists managed to prove only a fraction of the
truth, such as the false rumors that Emely used to spread around
banks, it would mean disaster, she was certain. The corporation
would be taken to court and who knew how it would end. The trial
would undoubtedly be televised. “Things are much more serious than
we imagine,” she added.

Blake
said
, “I suggest we threaten
News Continental
with a lawsuit. We’ll also start an aggressive advertising
campaign. We’ve got to emphasize the quality and results of our
services. We’ll tell the public how many people we employ every
year, all the time focusing on the benefits Donnovan Corporation
provides for society.”

Everyone except Alexandra nodded.

“
There’s one
more thing,” he added. “Above all, we must …”

The door opened. Everyone looked at Maria,
who stood there crying, clearly badly shaken.

Blake
asked,
“What’s happened?”

Maria stared
for a few moments, not knowing how to start. She tried to dry the
tears on her face. “The police called.” She paused, and then went
on. “They’ve found Emely. My God, they’ve found Emely.”

Chapter
22

_______________________

“
We’ve
arrived, Ms. Donnovan,” the driver said.

A black
limousine, over thirty feet long, stopped near the sidewalk. The
doors were bulletproof, as was the dark-blue glass. A complicated
security system guided by the latest computer system built into the
vehicle ensured further safety. Any world leader could be riding in
such a car.

Emely,
sitting on the luxurious white leather seat, put down a cup of tea
and thought about the last seven difficult months during which she
had spent all her strength on fighting the press. It was lucky that
she had come back just as Robert Miles began publishing his
potentially damaging articles. Other journalists followed him in an
attack on her.

Every television station in the country
broadcast her arrival home.

“
What
happened? Who kidnapped you? Where have you been all this time?”
the reporters shouted as she had stepped out of the police
car.

Something
strange was happening. Finally, she was free, in her own house, but
she couldn’t go out—the media were watching all the
exits.

After a few
days, when she had recovered, she called a press conference and
explained what had happened. Of course she did not mention the love
story between John and her.

The
journalists immediately began asking her questions about the
takeovers. For a few hours she had to answer their questions,
satisfying most of their hunger. But new attacks occurred every
day, without mercy, and she had to keep fighting for months. She
spent millions of dollars on advertising campaigns. After a long
time, finally the furor died down.

When she had
been incarcerated in the room, she wanted so much to go home, to be
saved, but now
that she was home, she was
unhappy. Often she wanted to escape somewhere. Before all this, she
had gladly gone to work every morning, but now something was
missing. Everything she did was done without enthusiasm. It seemed
pointless. All that gathering of money, heaps of money.
What use will it be to me?
she wondered.

She lifted
the small baby lying in a
travel cot next
to her and then immediately patted Kitty on the head. “I do still
love you,” she told the dog.

The man sitting next to the driver got out
and opened the door for her.

“
Thank you,
Gruber,” she said as she elegantly
slipped out of the car. She was wearing a dark-green woolen
suit. Her hair was up so that a Cartier necklace was in full view.
Diamonds and emeralds sparkled in every direction.

The driver
got out of the car as well. Both men were in black suits and under
their jackets they both
carried guns and
small radio transmitters with which they could call their office at
any moment. If one of them were to press a small button, in a few
minutes at least thirty fully armed men would come to their rescue.
If necessary, the police would swoop in with helicopters. Emely
didn’t want to take another risk; life had taught her to be
careful. She never felt completely safe again, always looking for
danger, even when asleep.

“Stay by the car,” she ordered the men.

They nodded, closely watching the
surroundings while she walked away. They were not happy about
having to leave her on her own.

She walked
along a narrow, gravel path, looking at the marble gravestones and
wooden crosses and the inscriptions on them. Gently she rocked the
baby and whispered something in his ear. He was a calm baby that
hardly ever cried and was always smiling, showing his first little
teeth, as if knowing that a life with no financial difficulties
awaited.

Emely paused
and looked around. Without being aware of it, she checked if
everything was alright. As if this were a jungle, she made sure
that there was no danger. She was always prepared for the worst
scenario, never trusting anyone. The dog also stopped and looked at
her.

After circling the whole place, she finally
stopped in front of her security guards to make sure that they were
awake and doing their job. She was paying them a triple salary and
demanded full commitment from them.

Slowly, she
walked away again, rocking the baby. She had never been at St.
Nicholas’s Cemetery, but knew exactly where she had to go. A few
months back she had hired a private detective, who had sent her a
detailed map with full instructions. It took her a long time before
she decided to come here. Finally, she managed to gather the
courage and here she was, among souls invisibly dancing around,
looking at their visitors. At least that’s what she
believed.

She inhaled
the warm air, imbued with the scent of leaves from the many trees
that adorned the cemetery. Suddenly she saw herself banging on the
walls of that coffin, hoping that the wood would yield. She felt
breathless and had to stop and put her left hand on her
mouth.

Both
bodyguards noticed her reaction. One of them set off at a quick
pace and the other followed.

Emely soon
recovered. She had
learned to drive away
these horrible thoughts, the result of her ordeal.
Let them go,
she always told herself,
and never come back.
She could
only hope that one day she would find true peace again and her
visions would stay away.

She looked to
the right and saw the bodyguards running toward her. Quickly she
lifted her hand to say that this was not
necessary
, and the two men stopped
immediately. With a gesture she indicated that she was alright and
that they should return to the car. They obeyed.

They often
got on her nerves, but she didn
’t dare go
anywhere without them. Bodyguards could be difficult. They somehow
owned you and start ordering you around regarding the most everyday
matters:
Ms. Donnovan,
shopping at this hour is not good, there are big crowds. Ms.
Donnovan, you cannot sit on the terrace, helicopters …. Ms.
Donnovan, it’s best if you walk around the park, it’s not safe
inside it. … Ms. Donnovan, we strongly advise you not to ride your
bicycle because ….

She was fed
up with these ideas about what she could and
couldn
’t do. She wanted to live without
them, yet knew it was impossible.

The nearer
she came to her destination, the tenser she
became. She felt strangely hot. She thought about her life.
Ever since she was free, she had been alone, unable to get close to
anyone. She and Philip had broken up. He had found another woman
and Emily was not upset about this at all. Before, she had thought
that she loved him, but then realized it was not true love. There
was no shortage of men trying to seduce her. She even slept with
some of them, but never felt anything for any of them. As if she
was empty, incapable of love.

She walked slowly, looking slightly to the
right at the various gravestones along the path. She read the
inscriptions, calculating how long those people had lived. The
number of those who had died too young surprised her and the
thought that she could have been among them made her feel a lump in
her throat. She walked on, looking at the sky. It was bright blue
and cloudless, as if nature had prepared itself for her visit. She
looked down again and suddenly spotted it.

John Langdon

1981
–2011

Emely again
put her hand at the base of her neck, her heart nearly stopping.
The gravestone said nothing but his name, year of birth, and year
of death in golden letters. She transferred her hand to her heart,
the pain too deep to bear, and the first tears appeared in her
eyes.

Calmly she stared at his face, crying
quietly. She remembered his last look, his sensual eyes embracing
her lovingly, reflecting immense pain. “Oh, John,” she said
quietly. She cried and cried and let her emotions overcome her.

The baby in
her arms didn’t know why she was crying. In amazement he looked at
the droplets rolling down her cheeks, and then touched one of them.
The tear was so fragile it immediately broke. The baby made happy
sounds and he touched every new tear that came out.

“
You
know
, Bobby, my friend is sleeping here,”
she told her son, who couldn’t understand a word. He just laughed,
waving his chubby arms around.

Emely
sniveled and then
said, “He was … he was
…”

She swallowed.

“…
your father.”

The tears ran with such force that she could
barely see.

“…
and he really was … he was … a
rascal …”

She could no
longer contain herself and stopped caring about being
watched.
Let them go to
hell!
She kissed her son on the cheeks
and said, “But even though he was a rascal …”

She wiped her nose. “… I … I loved him very
much.”

She nodded a
few times and went on in a calmer voice. “Yes, John, I loved you.”
For the first time in her life she admitted to herself openly that
she had loved somebody.

“And I still love you, John.”

She turned
away and saw one of the bodyguards approaching, carrying a box of
tissues. She nodded to say he could come near and that she would be
ready to go soon.

For a few
more seconds Emely stared at the gravestone, then lifted her head
and handed the baby to the bodyguard. She took a tissue with
gratitude, and then again cuddled the baby into her arms and walked
along the path toward the limousine, with her head bowed. The
seductive scent of her perfume wafted several feet behind
her.

* * * * *

About the
Author

Ian Fox was born in Slovenia
(EU), and has also lived in the U.S.A., France, and Germany. He is
fluent in English, French, and German. Because of his extensive
international experience, his books are set in the U.S.A. and
Europe. Ian’s books have enjoyed great success in Europe. He has
published three crime (mystery) novels that have sold very well and
been ranked among the top 100 most borrowed library books in
Slovenia. He is currently working on two new novels. Enthusiastic
readers write to him, saying they can’t put his books down and read
them in a few days. Individual libraries have ranked his works
among the top ten, sometimes even the top five most-borrowed
books.

Connect with me
online:

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/ianfoxwriter

My blog:
http://ianfoxwriter.blogspot.com/