Chapter Fifteen
Dallas, Texas 8:15AM
What does the end of the world look like from the corporate point of view?
Phones are ringing, faxes whining, and voices shouting over the other noises. People are rushing from one cubicle to another, and the coffee is flowing from coffeepots all over the complex into worried employees’ mouths. MIS geeks run nervous fingers through stringy ponytails while they frantically try to free the corporate networks from a rampaging virus. Teams of lawyers gird their flanneled loins, preparing for battle. Little do they know, the war has already been lost before the battle even starts. As of 6:00 AM US Central Time, Buchanan Enterprises has ceased to exist.
~*~*~*~
Port Charles, NY 9:20AM EST
A thousand miles from Texas, in a town called Port Charles, someone is very happy. Her velvety hand strokes the keyboard of her iMAC laptop. She watches number flash along the screen so quickly that they appear as a blur. The dedicated cable lines can barely transfer the immense volume of numbers from Dallas, Texas to Zurich, Switzerland. International bank accounts empty and close as others receive and grow. It happens all over the world, everyday. "Don’t you just love computers, Andreas," Helena purrs. "It’s just makes being wicked so much more efficient."
"Yes indeed, madam," Andreas calls over his shoulder. Andreas is in the middle of making a rather large floral transaction, the largest in the history of PC Floral Designers, Inc.
~*~*~*~
Llanview, PA 9:22AM EST
Asa Buchanan is a big man. Standing 6’ 4" sans cowboy hat, he is physically imposing, but his boisterous ego is straight from the heart of Texas, where egos naturally come big.
Asa is eating his big breakfast on a big plate, sipping from a big cup of coffee, reading two big newspapers at once — the Wall Street Journal and Llanview Banner.
His manservant, Nigel, comes to remove his plate and refresh his coffee. "Sir," Nigel whines in his effeminate, clipped British accent. "You have received 300 phone calls this morning, 150 faxes, and I have yet to check your email." Nigel looks a little worn around the edges.
Asa looks up from his newspapers and gives Nigel a glaring look. "No business until 10:00 AM - EVER, Nigel," Asa says forcefully. Nigel sighs, sniffs, shrugs his small, rounded shoulders and leaves the room with Asa’s plate.
Asa’s son Max rounds the corner in a hurry, almost clipping Nigel as the servant scurries to avoid confrontation. Max, an aging, still handsome, former playboy slash grifter steps up to Asa. "Pa," he says. "There are reporters at the front door. Do you want me to send them away?"
"Let them stand outside in the rain and catch their deaths from pneumonia," growls Asa.
"Why do you think they’re out there? Have we made any special deals lately?" asks Max
Asa looks at his watch – it is 9:45. "Starting business early today aren’t ya, Maxie boy?" Asa pulls a severe face and ruffles his newspapers, but inwardly is pleased with his aggressive son. Max is the son of his heart. His other two sons and their worthless progeny have gone their own ways, deserting him. Max has only been in his life one year since Asa discovered that Max was his long-lost son with former lover and current wife, Renee, but he is closer to Max than he ever thought possible. The DNA test proved it, but Max’s devotion clinches it for Asa. The two men plot and scheme with the best of them.
Max’s wife, Blair, enters the room with her hands resting on her long, lithe hips. "Haven’t you had your fatal heart attack, yet old man," Blair drawls, her accent betraying her Kentucky origins. "If those steak and egg breakfasts haven’t killed you off yet, there are 20 reporters waiting outside to do the honor of slaying you," Blair sneers. Blair’s hatred of Asa goes way back to the days when she’d married him for his money, then tried to kill him by withholding his heart meds. And, Blair’s ex,, Todd, has quite a history with the old coot, too. Asa is always trying to frame Todd for murder.
"Get that she-devil out of my face," grits Asa, baring his teeth and hissing in Blair’s direction.
"Okay, Pa," says Max. "You know I love ya both, so why don’t we skip the dramatics and get down to business." Max directs a warning look at Blair as he speaks. Blair makes a disgusted look with her face and turns up her chin.
Asa shakes his head. Only Max gets away with talking to him like that.
"Mr. Harrington to see you, sir." Nigel announces Asa’s favorite good old boy attorney to the room.
"Chuck," Asa says, grasping the beefy hand of his long-time friend. "What brings you here to Llanview? I don’t remember having a meeting scheduled, or is one of us getting senile in our old age?" Asa heartily slaps his friend on his back.
"Asa," Chuck says, then clears his throat and rubs his nose with an index finger. "I have some bad, make that devastating news."
"What is it, Chuck? Spit it out," says Asa. Asa is beginning to get a bit worried.
"Buchanan Enterprises is finished," says Chuck as he shakes his head. "All of its assets disappeared last night. We’re ruined."
Max jumps in as Pa looks stricken. "What do you mean, no assets. There’s NOTHING?"
"Well, Asa," says Chuck, looking at Max. "There is……one cow…..in Shady Brook Farms….that is owned outright."
Asa grabs his heart and staggers to the couch. His face is bright red, and he is sweating bullets. "Max, it’s the big one. I love you son," says Asa as he keels over quite dead.
Blair looks on with her mouth open in shock, but quickly recovers as her brain processes the event. We did it! The old coot is dead, and Max is the sole heir to his estate. But wait...there IS no estate. An angry look crosses Blair’s face as she realizes what has happened. Todd! He was supposed to have killed that virus. Obviously something has gone absolutely wrong in the meantime. D*mn. Blair looks over at her husband, Max, the fake Buchanan heir of one old cow. After she kicks his sorry butt, Blair plans on making up with Todd in the biblical sense. After all, he is the father of her daughter and still has his $27.5 million fortune.
Blair quietly slips from the room as an anguished Max bends over Asa.
Nigel stands in a corner looking positively relieved and years younger.
The Cassadine rift grows
Vicki meets PC dysfunctionality
A suspicious invitation arrives