Cancel Our T-Time

167.

Davis is enjoying his role as entrepreneurial mobster. He sits at the table with Saunders, also slightly overplaying her role, the pair of high-level managers and what appears to be the business legal counsel for Adelson’s gaming operations in Las Vegas. They are waiting for the boss to arrive. Davis can see his reflection in the highly polished Brazilian cherrywood tabletop, indicating, to him, that despite the environmental tone deafness of the furniture's owner, it probably is oblivious to someone who could buy the Amazon rainforest should he desire. 

They sit silent, game faces on. 

From a hidden door behind them Aldelson enters the meeting room, walks to his place at the head of the table and sits. He scans the table’s attendees and, apparently satisfied, opens the dialogue,”Well good afternoon everyone, I understand that we have a proposal to hear from this talented pair of, what, businessmen?” he looks at Saunders and condescendingly adds “and business women?” Davis internally recoils at his gross sexism, but shows no external indication that he really wants to shoot the prick in the face with the concealed derringer in his right snakeskin boot. 

Everyone nobs a terse ‘good afternoon’ in response. 

“So let’s get to the heart of the matter. We have you on surveillance video using a gaming device to manipulate the outcome of our slot machines, an outcome that we pay a premium to ensure is impossible. You may begin your presentation by stating why we shouldn’t simply arrest you on the spot and, meeting adjourned, spend the rest of this glorious day golfing. If we find your opening argument satisfactory, you may continue, if not, we have a tee time in one hour. Please begin.” 

Davis clears his dry throat and opens his prepared oration with as much bravado and falsified confidence as he is able to invoke. 

“Thanks you for seeing us. The demonstration was due to the timeliness of the situation. Had we of gone through standard channels the odds of this meeting happening would have been much too late to leverage the opportunity at hand. We simply felt that by proving our capabilities, knowing full well we were on camera, would speed the process of getting to, well, this. We fully intend to reimburse every penny of the illicit payout once we have an arrangement in place.”

Adelson raises one eyebrow significantly higher than the other and cocks his head approvingly. 

“But that is small potatoes,” Davis says, gaining momentum, “Compared to the bigger picture opportunity we offer to you in good faith.”

Even Saunders is impressed by the performance. 

Davis powerfully pauses for effect, re-establishing eye contact with the others at the table before proceeding.

“The gaming device is not the end game, it is the opening move of a pawn in a chess game. We have the technology to silently and efficiently manipulate Wall Street and put the gutless and greedy bastards in check with one decisive move. Call it a Queen-Bishop diagonal assault.” The looks on every face in the room are similar versions of disbelief and doubt. 

Davis yields to Saunders for the closing salvo.

She stands. 

“We have the tools, the technology and the motivation to make this the biggest score in the history of organized gaming. And I am sure you all agree that to be the actual business designation of the stock market. We can set up and create a shadow corporation, manipulate its standing, rating and value, leverage its portfolio and, when the moment is maximized, sell the stocks we digitally and virtually created from scratch. It is genius, foolproof and guaranteed.” 

Even the fly on the wall is silent with the ramification of this bombshell. 

“Why me? What is this to me? We run a legal operation from top to bottom,” falsifies Adelson. 

“We need someone with your clout to bankroll the operation.” 

“Payout?”

“Put up ten get one hundred.” 

“We talking millions?”

“We’re talking billions.” 

One of the execs snorts and is immediately silenced by a devastatingly sinister glare from the boss. 

Aldelson sits with his chin on the knuckles of his interlaced hands looking alternately at Davis and then Saunders. 

He looks menacingly at the underling who voiced the audible response to the dollar amounts. He looks like he could use a shower.

Adleson says to him with deadly calm, “Call and cancel our tee-time.”