everyone ask me that?”
Chapter Fourteen
Fredrick Hightower II looked up from his custom designer computer tablet as Carl Frazier approached. Carl was one of only a handful of people who would dare approach Hightower without an appointment. The security people surrounding Hightower knew Frazier as an associate and good friend of their boss. It was unusual to see him at Hightower’s private penthouse pool area on a weekday, but they had witnessed many other strange and more disturbing events surrounding their employer.
Fredrick Hightower II was President and Chief Executive Officer of Ameriplaxi LLC. He had inherited Ameriplaxi and a great deal of influence from his father, Fredrick Senior. Under Fredrick Senior’s control, the company had struggled to survive from one government research grant to the next. But that was before Fredrick II took over. Fredrick Hightower II was a bona fide genius. His push into microcellular neurological disease research produced a number of breakthroughs and secured the company’s future. It was Ameriplaxi’s expertise with the human mind that brought them into a partnership with the Federal Government’s Connect America program. Ameriplaxi was the “go to” company when it came to understanding the human brain and how to keep it sharp and focused; a skill required when working long, grueling hours dealing with the general public.
“Don’t get up, Freddie,” Frazier quipped as he approached. “I only need a couple seconds of your time today.”
Fredrick casually picked up his Nickel-plated Colt Anaconda and swung it toward Carl. “Calling me “Freddie” is going to get you dead someday, Carlie .” Hightower bristled every time Carl used his childhood nickname. He would not even allow his parents to call him that after he turned eleven. But, in retrospect, his parents were not nearly as useful as Carl, or as loyal.
Carl had more respect for the firearm than the man who was mishandling it. “Quit waving that peashooter around, Junior, you‘re going to end up hurting somebody with that thing.”
Hightower pointed the large gun toward his own temple, smiled, and tapped it lightly against his head. “I have everything under control, Carlie, so don’t get your panties in a bunch. I know how to use this thing, so you can stop looking so nervous.” Fredrick Hightower pointed the revolver off into the distance and pretended to fire a couple of rounds before dropping it on the table next to his chair. He considered himself lucky to have such a man as Carl Frazier in his long-term employ. Besides himself, Carl was the only one who might know all of Ameriplaxi’s secrets. And all of Fredrick’s, for that matter.
“So what brings you to my humble abode?” Hightower asked, while he toyed with one of the dozen gold bracelets he wore. “Did you get lonely for one of my girls again, or did you miss my company?”
“Neither, Junior. We need to talk about a situation,” Carl said, as he shot a glance toward Fredrick’s friends, or more correctly, his security people surrounding the pool.
“In private.”
With a wave of his hand, Fredrick’s two guards and four bikini-clad women who were lounging nearby disappeared.
Hightower used both hands to slick back his hair. “You must have something important to break up my afternoon party,” He observed, placing both hands behind his head and lounging back on his chair. “What’s on your mind?”
“I have a handle on the Call Center situation, Fredrick. You had no reason to get all bent out of shape and get your senator friend in such an uproar.” Carl remained standing. This was going to be a short meeting. “Anything you share with that power-hungry bastard you might as well put up on a billboard. He went ahead and got Perez or Pedro or whatever your rent-a-cop’s name is on the first floor involved. There’s a reason the bottom two floors are separate from the
Chapter Fourteen
Fredrick Hightower II looked up from his custom designer computer tablet as Carl Frazier approached. Carl was one of only a handful of people who would dare approach Hightower without an appointment. The security people surrounding Hightower knew Frazier as an associate and good friend of their boss. It was unusual to see him at Hightower’s private penthouse pool area on a weekday, but they had witnessed many other strange and more disturbing events surrounding their employer.
Fredrick Hightower II was President and Chief Executive Officer of Ameriplaxi LLC. He had inherited Ameriplaxi and a great deal of influence from his father, Fredrick Senior. Under Fredrick Senior’s control, the company had struggled to survive from one government research grant to the next. But that was before Fredrick II took over. Fredrick Hightower II was a bona fide genius. His push into microcellular neurological disease research produced a number of breakthroughs and secured the company’s future. It was Ameriplaxi’s expertise with the human mind that brought them into a partnership with the Federal Government’s Connect America program. Ameriplaxi was the “go to” company when it came to understanding the human brain and how to keep it sharp and focused; a skill required when working long, grueling hours dealing with the general public.
“Don’t get up, Freddie,” Frazier quipped as he approached. “I only need a couple seconds of your time today.”
Fredrick casually picked up his Nickel-plated Colt Anaconda and swung it toward Carl. “Calling me “Freddie” is going to get you dead someday, Carlie .” Hightower bristled every time Carl used his childhood nickname. He would not even allow his parents to call him that after he turned eleven. But, in retrospect, his parents were not nearly as useful as Carl, or as loyal.
Carl had more respect for the firearm than the man who was mishandling it. “Quit waving that peashooter around, Junior, you‘re going to end up hurting somebody with that thing.”
Hightower pointed the large gun toward his own temple, smiled, and tapped it lightly against his head. “I have everything under control, Carlie, so don’t get your panties in a bunch. I know how to use this thing, so you can stop looking so nervous.” Fredrick Hightower pointed the revolver off into the distance and pretended to fire a couple of rounds before dropping it on the table next to his chair. He considered himself lucky to have such a man as Carl Frazier in his long-term employ. Besides himself, Carl was the only one who might know all of Ameriplaxi’s secrets. And all of Fredrick’s, for that matter.
“So what brings you to my humble abode?” Hightower asked, while he toyed with one of the dozen gold bracelets he wore. “Did you get lonely for one of my girls again, or did you miss my company?”
“Neither, Junior. We need to talk about a situation,” Carl said, as he shot a glance toward Fredrick’s friends, or more correctly, his security people surrounding the pool.
“In private.”
With a wave of his hand, Fredrick’s two guards and four bikini-clad women who were lounging nearby disappeared.
Hightower used both hands to slick back his hair. “You must have something important to break up my afternoon party,” He observed, placing both hands behind his head and lounging back on his chair. “What’s on your mind?”
“I have a handle on the Call Center situation, Fredrick. You had no reason to get all bent out of shape and get your senator friend in such an uproar.” Carl remained standing. This was going to be a short meeting. “Anything you share with that power-hungry bastard you might as well put up on a billboard. He went ahead and got Perez or Pedro or whatever your rent-a-cop’s name is on the first floor involved. There’s a reason the bottom two floors are separate from the
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