Cash Back Tycoon: Spend Big, Earn Bigger

Eleven minutes to noon

Gregor Lund called the emergency vote to order at 11:49 and smiled as he did so.

He was a heavyset man with silver hair, a voice like warm oil, and the look of a winner as he presided over the Sinclair Dynamics boardroom. On the wall behind him, a screen showed the loan covenant in red, boldface, and the word DEFAULT was burning beneath it.

Yvonne Sinclair sat at the head of the long boardroom table with her back straight, her fingers folded over a closed folder, and an unreadable face. There were two men on the board to her left who hadn't been looking at her for several minutes.

"We are gathered because the chief executive has failed to deposit the required reserve," Lund announced. "The covenant is clear and the deadline is noon. I move that the board declare an emergency and appoint an interim chairman."

"Seconded," a thin man said, from his right.

"The reserve will arrive," Yvonne said, her voice cold.

"From where, Yvonne?" Lund spread his hands. "Your accounts are frozen, your credit is gone, and you have eleven minutes. I wish this weren't necessary, but the company must be protected."

A representative from First Meridian Bank sat with a laptop next to Lund and nodded in grave sympathy. He was a professional bill-collector.

Yvonne looked up at the clock on the wall. It read 11:51.

On the street fifty floors below, Ethan emerged from a plain silver sedan Marcus had hired from a stranger. Dana Frost walked with a leather folio. A young associate from her firm came close on the other side with a laptop already opened to a wire transfer screen.

"We have nine minutes to get there," Dana said, as they walked the length of the marble lobby. "The elevator to the fiftieth floor takes ninety seconds and security will likely want to stop us."

"Then don't let them."

Dana allowed herself a small smile. "That is the first sensible order I've seen this week."

Security wanted to stop them. Dana produced a printed invitation, signed by Yvonne Sinclair herself. The guard read it twice, looked over Ethan's face, and waved them toward the executive elevator.

At 11:56, the boardroom doors opened.

Every head turned. Lund's smile froze half-formed across his face and the thin man to his right dropped his pen.

"Mr. Vance?" Ethan stepped inside the room, his jacket buttoned, his hands empty. "I'm here at Ms. Sinclair's invitation and I believe I have a reserve to deposit."

"This is a closed meeting," Lund said sharply. "Security."

"He is my guest," Yvonne said, rising from the table, and for the first time that morning something like life touched her face. "He may speak."

Lund slammed a hand on the table. "He's a junior clerk who was thrown out of Hartwell Financial for theft. He doesn't belong in this room."

"He belongs as a lender," Ethan corrected. "And as the sole owner of Harbor Trust Bank."

A ripple of bewilderment passed around the table.

The First Meridian representative frowned at the little laptop on his knee. "Harbor Trust is a very small bank. It isn't on our approved list of depositors."

"The covenant doesn't require an approved list," Dana said, opening her folio. "Section nine, paragraph four. The reserve may be deposited by any licensed financial institution in good standing. Harbor Trust has had a state license for thirty-one years."

The representative read the passage, and his face tightened.

"The wire is ready," the young associate said from the corner. "It only needs one signature."

Ethan took the tablet and glanced at the clock. It read 11:58.

He signed with his thumb and the little circle on the screen began to spin.

Nobody in the room breathed.

Lund leaned forward and spoke in a tight, hushed voice. "This is theater. A bank that appeared yesterday cannot possibly hold five million dollars."

"It holds two hundred and ten million," Dana said. "And the transfer will clear in under a minute."

The circle stopped.

TRANSFER-COMPLETE FIVE MILLION DOLLARS: 11:59:12.

The representative from First Meridian stared at his screen, then double-checked the figures as if they might change. He swallowed, and spoke in a hollow, unreal voice.

"The reserve has been received. The covenant is cured."

Lund's face drained of color all at once.

Yvonne sat down slowly and placed one flat hand on the table to steady herself. Her eyes flicked toward Ethan, and what he saw there was something that hadn't been there the night before.

"The motion is moot," a quiet woman said, from the far end of the table. One of the two neutral members. "I withdraw my support of the emergency vote."

"I withdraw mine as well," the man beside her said.

Lund looked to his left and then to his right, and found no one to stand with. His mouth worked soundlessly.

"The motion fails," Yvonne said, and her voice echoed off the polished wood. "Mr. Lund, I believe your services as a director are no longer required. I will table a vote of removal at the next session and I expect that it will pass."

The blue panel opened in the corner of Ethan's vision.

[ Ding! ]

[ Qualifying purchase detected. Amount spent: 5,000,000. ]

[ Social value assessment: the Host rescued a failing company from a hostile takeover in the final minute. Social value: Legendary. ]

[ Tier One Cashback is now unlocking. ]

[ Reward: 15% equity in Sinclair Dynamics. Asset value multiplier active: market capitalization will rise by an estimated 2,000% over the next 24 hours. ]

[ Harem Matrix update: Yvonne Sinclair, Affection Level 11. Status: Impressed. ]

Ethan felt the weight of those numbers settle behind his eyes. Less than an hour ago he'd been a stranger in borrowed clothes, and now he owned a slice of a company that was about to die.

Yvonne rose and walked around the table until she was looking down at Ethan, close enough to smell the faint, sharp perfume of her skin.

"You said you weren't dangerous," she murmured, "and I think you lied."

"I said I didn't plan any of this."

"That is not the same thing," she said, and her lips curved, for the first time, into something that could have been a smile. "I will honor our agreement. You have a place on this board, Mr. Vance, and you have my attention."

"I'll take both."

She held out her hand and he took it, feeling the strength in her grip and the coolness of her skin.

The conference room doors opened for a second time. This time, no one turned, because a deep, slow hush had already settled over the room. A man stood waiting in the doorway, in a gray suit, white hair at the temples, posture perfect, his eyes the color of old ice.

Victor Whitmore did not look at Yvonne. He did not look at Lund. He was watching Ethan.

"Mr. Vance," said Victor Whitmore, "I had hoped we might meet under better auspices, but I confess I admire your timing."

Ethan met the man's gaze. "Mr. Whitmore."

"You seem to be an industrious young man, for one who was unemployed this time yesterday. A hotel, a bank, and now a company that isn't yours. Tell me, how long can a young man keep so many plates spinning?"

"Long enough," said Ethan.

Victor smiled, and this time he bent close enough for the words to be heard only by Ethan.

"You have been looking for Harris, I believe. You may stop. By tonight, he will be somewhere that neither you nor any detective will ever reach him."