Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,27
spirit in its workers. They were expected to internalize the goals of the company and sell its products to anyone they came in contact with. Knowing their CEO’s history was part of their indoctrination.
“Zagan dropped out of college and worked for a series of videogame companies, as a coder. In an interview he described this period of his life as doing hard time inside a digital sweatshop. He quit EI-gaming and developed an app that went on to sell fifteen million copies. With the earnings, he started building Omicron and the rest is history.”
History indeed, Talon thought. Omicron cellphones and tablets were growing in popularity with each passing day, gobbling up more and more of Apple’s market share.
Becky hit Google and photographs of Zagan flickered onscreen. The first shot showed him as a fresh college dropout, pudgy face half-concealed by a shaggy mop of hair. More photos popped up, showing how his style evolved as the years went by. The man began shaving his head to conceal a receding hairline and dropping the excess weight. Jeans and T-shirts gave way to thousand-dollar suits.
“Zagan reinvented himself over the last decade. As his fortune grew, so did the myth that has sprung up around him.”
Talon compared the older shots with recent images of Zagan. The transformation was startling. His height and bone structure appeared to have undergone a radical metamorphosis.
“Hard to believe it’s the same man,” Casca said. “Zagan likes to credit his rigorous workout regimen and strict Vegan diet for his new appearance. I’m not quite convinced.”
Talon scrutinized Casca. The billionaire probably believed that dark magic was altering Zagan’s body, but Talon refused to buy into such fairy tales. Money could purchase some pretty impressive plastic surgery. Sometimes success didn’t banish demons; it merely fed them. Zagan was clearly trying to bury the memory of his old self.
“Here comes the million-dollar question — why does the head of one of the biggest computer companies in the Valley become a cult leader?”
“Good question. Hopefully I’ll have an answer once I analyze this program more closely.”
Talon didn’t plan on sitting around idly while Casca cooked up some harebrained theory. Patience served its purpose in battle, but answering the Omicron call had been a declaration of war. In hindsight it was a foolish decision, perhaps, but burning rage had overruled cold logic. Zagan and his cult now knew that Talon was out there.
They were probably gearing up for a counterattack.
Talon would let Casca crack the code, if he wanted to. His preference was to receive an explanation for these killings, an explanation that came straight from Zagan’s lips. Preferably followed by the dark thrill of pulling the trigger and sending the rotten bastard straight to hell.
“Alright guys, this was fun but I think it’s time I paid Zagan a little visit.”
With these words, Talon stepped out of Casca’s office. He barely made it down the next lavishly adorned hallway before the billionaire had caught up with him. Casca’s eyes glittered with disapproval. “We should proceed with caution. We don’t know what we’re up against here.”
“Maybe you don’t, but I do. The CEO of Omicron is running his own killer cult. It’s time someone stopped him before more innocent people end up dead.”
“What’s your plan? Walk into one of the biggest corporations in America and execute its leader?”
“If that’s what it takes. We don’t have the luxury of waiting around. They know we’re closing in.”
“What are you talking about?” Casca said.
Talon told the billionaire about the message he’d sent the cultists.
Casca shook his head. “You gave away our one advantage.”
“Maybe I wanted to give these assholes a dose of their own medicine. Teach them what it means to be afraid.”
“These fanatics don’t fear you.”
“They will.”
“This isn’t a game. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
“Talon, I know how much Michelle meant to you, and I know all too well what you’re going through…”
Casca’s familiar tone rubbed Talon the wrong way and anger coiled in the pit of his stomach. “You have no clue how I’m feeling.”
“Actually, I do.” Casca’s voice was cool and measured as he spoke. “Thirteen years ago, a cult of Satanists broke into this estate while my parents were celebrating their anniversary abroad. They killed the servants and took my sister and me hostage. Fortunately the FBI was nice enough to show up and shoot the bastards before I could become another statistic. My sister, unfortunately, wasn’t so lucky.”
Talon studied Casca more carefully. The boyish smile he usually