DRAGON: OUT OF THE BOX 27
The Girl in the Box, Book 37
ROBERT J. CRANE
Ostiagard Press
DRAGON
The Girl in the Box, Book 37
(Out of the Box, Book 27)
Robert J. Crane
Copyright © 2019 Ostiagard Press
All Rights Reserved.
1st Edition.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Epilogue
Teaser
Bibliography/Afterword
Author’s Note
Other Works by Robert J. Crane
Acknowledgments
PROLOGUE
Jaime Chapman
Mountain View, California
The ink was drying, the deal was done, and the handshakes were being exchanged. Jaime Chapman couldn't imagine himself being any happier unless Gwen had been here.
“In China,” Wu Huang said, leaning over to whisper in Jaime's ear, his hand still gripping Jaime's tightly, “this would be smaller, more organized. One outlet, not this many. And we would be done by now.” Huang was in his forties, a touch of steel color lacing through his otherwise black hair, cheeks puffy and wide, fixed in a smile as his eyes glittered with slightly less amusement than the smile would indicate.
“In America we have to feed the beast,” Jaime said, keeping that smile going as the flashbulbs continued to assail his eyes. Sensory overload was not far off, but he'd learned to manage it. The CEO of the largest tech company in the world couldn't just collapse under the weight of his neuroses, after all. That'd be bad for the stock price. “Still...” He raised his voice. “All right, people, that's enough trying to trigger latent epilepsy for a few minutes.”
That prompted a laugh from the reporters in attendance.
“Mr. Chapman!” Chapman blinked through the purple spots in his vision to squint at the reporter. They'd planned to take questions in the next room, in a few minutes, but leave it to the nimrod from Flashforce to try and squeeze one in early. “What led you to this deal?”
Well, at least it was a good question. And he had a perfect, boilerplate answer for it. “We've long wanted to increase our business ties to China,” Chapman said, hitting the bullet points, “and when Mr. Huang came to us with this proposal, it just made sense. He gets to become one of the largest stakeholders in our business, and we get to roll out Socialite in China starting next year. Over a billion potential new users,” now Chapman's smile was real, “with a FindIt search engine product specifically tailored to China to follow shortly thereafter. Instaphoto, Cash-fer, our entire portfolio of companies will all be entering the largest market in the world, bringing Silicon Valley engineering to the most populous country in the world.” He hit the talking points with gusto, because this deal was a slam-dunk, no brainer. Selling a little bit of his equity to Huang and then facilitating him buying shares on the open market to make him the second largest shareholder in exchange for nearly-full access to Chinese markets?
Only an idiot wouldn't take that deal. And Jaime Chapman was no idiot.
“Mr. Huang?” The question came from a slightly older, more grizzled-looking reporter. Looked like he'd been on the beat awhile. “How do you respond to allegations that your company is backed and owned by the Chinese government?”
Chapman felt his blood go cold. “I'm sorry, we're not meant to be taking questions right n–”
“It's fine.” Huang held up a han
d to stay him. Still, there was a tightness around Huang's eyes that suggested he was not entirely pleased to receive the question. “I have long enjoyed good relations with the party and the Chinese government, which allows this merger to be advantageous for all parties. I hope to facilitate a new level of cooperation between our countries, with better understanding through our greater business and technological ties.”
“Thank you,” Jaime said, cutting off the next volley of questions. Eight reporters tried, but he and Huang turned away, flashbulbs ringing out madly in the conference room.
“I hate your press,” Huang said as the PR people herded the reporters out the door.
“They're a bunch of filthy savages,” Chapman agreed. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, and he fished it out to take a look, frowning when he saw the screen.
IT'S TIME TO PLAY!
“If you'll excuse me for just a moment...” Jaime said.
“Quickly, first,” Huang said, catching him by the elbow. “I have several engineers from my company ready to start interfacing with yours so we can start design on the China-specific products.”
“Right, right,” Chapman said, feeling the pull of his phone. The Network was meeting, and he was going to miss it if he didn't get away soon.
“I'd like to 'get the ball rolling,'” Huang said, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, “with your Lineage affiliate.”
Chapman held in a frown. Lineage? He'd bought that company on a whim, a DNA testing and family tree tech company that he'd tried, unsuccessfully, to mate with Socialite's capabilities and data. It had led to some embarrassing viral stories about unknown siblings that were the product of infidelity suddenly being contacted through Socialite. It had spawned a couple heart-warming puff pieces, too, but the bad had outweighed the good and he'd scuttled the integration plans. It wasn't a core competency of Socialite, he'd decided, so now Lineage just sat there on his balance sheet, making a few bucks for the company and that was about it. “Sure,” he said. “I'll clear your people for full access to the product right away, just get their names to my assistant.”
“Excellent,” Huang said, and now he settled into a much more easy smile, that little flash in his eyes gone. “I think this is going be a fruitful partnership.”
“I agree,” Jaime said, with a smile of his own. “Now if you'll excuse me...”
“Absolutely.” Huang nodded and left him, barking at one of his assistants in Mandarin.
Jaime keyed in his password quickly, flipping right to the Escapade app and jumping in mid-conversation. For security reasons, Chapman's people made it so only the most recent ten lines of text were retained, the rest immediately deleted from the secure network it traveled on and stored absolutely nowhere on the internet. The app even disabled the screenshot function during use, as a precaution.
RUSS BILSON: I'd like you all to welcome our newest member, Chris Byrd! I'm sure you've all heard of him. Chris's politics and news forum is watched by the people who matter most in Washington.
Chapman snorted. Byrd had the lowest rated evening show on cable news, but Bilson wasn't wrong – it was watched by more congressional staffers and politicians than any other, mostly because it was the most inside-baseball show on DC's inner workings out there. Not meant to feed the proles outside the beltway, it catered to the Acela corridor. That was something, but still...being in last place after CNN in the cable news rankings was a special sort of hilarious to Chapman.
HEATHER CHALKE: Welcome, Chris.
TYRUS FLANAGAN: Welcome.
DAVE KORY: Glad to have you.
Chapman rolled his eyes as the salutations filled the screen, not bothering to add an anodyne greeting of his own. It'd be lost in the shuffle in any case, and he was indifferent to Byrd's entry to the group. His philosophy was that there ought to be a reason to add anybody. Byrd's influence seemed limited to him, but maybe he'd be of more use to the DC based members, like Chalke and Bilson. Chapman couldn't imagine much use for the cable TV host. In terms of their press contacts, he ranked behind Kory's Flashforce or Johannsen's Free Press in his view.
CHRIS BYRD: Hey u guys russ told me things were lit AF in here so glad to be part of the team
Chapman cringed. Didn't it just figure that Byrd's typing would fit neatly into the “Aging Boomer, bereft of texting skills” style.
Whatever. He turned, keeping the app open on the off chance something interesting emerged, but took a moment to survey the boardroom, thinking about what he'd wrought today.
New access to China in a way that no US tech company had ever managed. An inside track via Huang to the Chinese government, and a chance to develop inside that market with their tacit approval. It would deliver billions in market cap to his stock, and already the alerts were pinging to his phone showing him that, yes, Wall Street liked – no, loved – this deal.
It was a crowning triumph in his business career, which had been replete with doing things no one had ever done before. Dethroning tech giants that had captured first-mover advantage. Making deals in countries few others could.
The only downside was that it was too bad Gwen couldn't be here to witness it. That was the life of busy CEOs, though. He could sympathize, her being up to her eyeballs in some project or another, but still, it bothered him a little. He was about to become the world's richest man, thanks to this, and she was off piddling with her cute little startup. Sure, he'd been there – the constant grinds of programming, checking, debugging, managerial business – but now he was in a much more elevated position. Other people handled that low-grade bullshit.
Maybe her startup would go belly up, he sometimes secretly wished. Then he could hire her to do something here, with him. That way he could see her every day instead of this catch-as-can bullshit her work schedule currently provided.
“Mr. Chapman?” One of the PR people called to him, quiet, respectful – but urgent.
“Right,” Chapman said, forcing that smile back onto his face. Not the real one, from when he thought of Gwen. The fake one, the one that wouldn't fade as he concentrated back on the job at hand – publicizing this new venture to the whole world.
CHAPTER ONE
One Month Later
Yorkshire, Virginia
The coffee in Cathy Jang-Peters's tumbler was warm and good, and almost made this drive tolerable. It was certainly necessary, she reflected, blotting at her eyes delicately with a dark sleeve of her jacket, avoiding smearing her makeup but dabbing at the sleepiness pushing her lids down. It was just after 5:30 in the morning, after all, a damned uncivilized hour to be on the road.
Blinking as the rural scenery of Virginia State Road 28 passed her by, green fields covered in the darkness of lingering night broken by the occasional tree. Cathy Jang-Peters took a sip of her coffee. The tumbler was good, solid, and a cold brew lingered within. Her husband had made it for her starting the day before, giving the grounds time to seep into the filtered water. It was less acidic than hot coffee, and he made it with some fancy stuff she didn't really pay much attention to. It was good, though, and smooth, and she could drink it right away as she walked out the door of their Manassas home in the mornings with nothing but a kiss and the tumbler to speed her on her way.