The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(80)

“What’s wrong? Is it Laila—is she not doing well?”

He didn’t answer.

“Max, you can talk to me.”

He stood and kissed her gently on the lips. “I know. You are the one person I trust.”

But instead of opening up, he told her he had to make a call.

After he left, she texted Ernest, asking for a status update on Max’s half sister. The inspector general was getting under her skin, and she really wanted to find out more about him. As soon as she fired off the text, she regretted it. One night—that was her rule. Don’t get emotionally involved. But maybe it was already too late for that.





Chapter Fifty-Nine



Thea shifted in her seat. The Chinese had finally exhausted every last excruciating argument about why their company was the only choice to handle the Kanzi oil rights. Most of it was spin, of course, but she was more interested in the players in the room, watching their faces for tells, looking for anyone behaving in an unusual way.

“Ms. Paris, we’ll be able to fit in your opening remarks before the break,” Prime Minister Kimweri said.

“Thank you. I’ll say a few words before our COO Ahmed Khali takes over.”

Nikos leaned over and whispered to her. “I believe in you.”

The panel members’ eyes had a glazed look. Even the prime minister seemed weary from the endless monologue. Time to shake things up. She stepped forward, then turned slightly so she was facing both the dignitaries and the crowd.

“My name is Thea Paris, and Paris Industries was built by my father, Christos Paris.”

She paused.

Quan Chi’s eyebrows rose an inch. Xi-Ping squinted. Nikos smiled at her.

“Although it is true that China has long held vital interests in this region, when you’re deciding who you, your children, and your grandchildren would like to work with for the next hundred years, please remember that my father has been deeply and directly involved in Kanzi for nearly forty years.”

The fog cleared from the panel members’ faces. Even General Jemwa leaned forward.

“Christos Paris brought his family to your beautiful country. He invested his time, energy, and funds in the people of Kanzi, exploring the viability of producing local biofuels. To this day, many farmers subsist by providing Paris Industries with their annual crops.

“And when my father made promises, he kept them. Paris Industries built schools, hospitals, water purification facilities—all necessary additions to boost Kanzi’s living standards. And he invested in the people by employing them instead of importing foreign labor. My father worked hand in hand with the people of Kanzi before most other companies knew this special place existed.”

The prime minister nodded.

She spun around and headed for her brother. She stood behind him, hands on his shoulders. Ahmed had agreed with her suggestion to include Nikos and his history in her remarks. The COO was strategic, knowing that hitting the family note would affect many, including the prime minister, who was committed to his own kinfolk.

“This is my brother, Nikos Paris. When he was twelve years old, he was kidnapped and held in captivity for nine months. We were so grateful that we got him back.” Her gaze locked with General Jemwa’s. Under her fingers, Nikos’s shoulder muscles knotted.

She returned to the front of the room.

“Even though his own son had been held hostage because of his business here, Christos maintained his close partnership with Kanzi. He loves the people, the land, the culture. And my father shares the same resilience as your townsfolk. He started life as a fisherman’s son in Greece, poor and hungry. He built his company through hard work and sacrifice.”

The prime minister straightened in his seat.

“And proof of our family’s commitment is that Nikos and I are here today, representing our father, because he is going through a difficult trial. A few days ago, he was kidnapped. We’re here to show you that Paris Industries remains dedicated to Kanzi even in his absence.” She wasn’t going to dance around the truth. “This is about family, and Kanzi has always been part of ours. Choose Paris Industries, and you’ll continue to have that loyalty moving forward. Thank you for your time today.”

She headed back to her seat, nodding to Ahmed, who stood and headed toward the dignitaries.

“Thank you, Thea.” He cleared his throat. “Prime Minister Kimweri, board members, ladies and gentlemen, Paris Industries can offer something else that the Chinese National Oil Company can’t—efficient and safe transport of the oil to the closest port.”

The general’s fingers drummed on the table; he was probably eager to escape the laborious proceedings. He was a man of action, not a corporate suit.

A soft creak. The rear door of the conference room opened, and a man dressed in fatigues stepped inside. Something about his rigid stance left Thea unsettled.

“Our company has a signed agreement from the government of Namibia, and . . .”

She stopped paying attention to Ahmed’s speech and zeroed in on the soldier striding up the left aisle. A slight bulge on his rear hip set off warning signals. She slipped off her heels and kept him in her peripheral vision.

He closed the distance to where the dignitaries sat. Instinct made her move. She jumped up and knocked her chair aside, bolting toward him.

Seconds later, he reached for his hip, connecting with his weapon.