Young Writers Society

Virgo stood up and pulled one end of his suit jacket, making it crooked. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve reached our quota.”

He punched the presentation TV, and up crackled a graphic of a devil cackling, circled by a jackpot of flashing lights. Virgo produced a wine bottle and smashed it on the wall, holding the neck upside down and sipping it like a jagged chalice.

The boardroom was silent before him. A black-suited man spoke up. “Mr. Virgo, what exactly did we accomplish?”

Virgo extended his free hand, shaking his way around the table. “Our new investment deal has closed its final transaction. Now we make our getaway to the Cayman Islands, and our fortune is sealed!”

Another, elder man looked startled. "But what about our payoff margin? We still have to return money to our investors!"

"Mr. Mendoza, that's not quite true - Benken Trading Corporation has to return the money." Mr Virgo swished his wine, spilling a bit. "We, however, are innovators of economy. And our 'innovation' has made the investment money untraceable."

Mendoza's eyes widened, then narrowed shrewdly. "I see," he mused, then chuckled and extended his hand. "Then you've done it, Mr. Virgo."

"I have, haven't I?" Virgo laughed, careening around the room. "But that's not to say you all won't share the spoils." He passed around his bottleneck like a cult chalice. "So why not drink to me?

"And drink," he said, spreading his arms to the boardroom, "to my biggest scam yet!"

The rest of the room slowly began to clap, and then, as the weight of their new fortune hit them, intensified chortling. They leaped from their seats and whooped, cheering wildly, all except for the seventh man, who had slowly risen and reached into his suit jacket.

I drew my gun, pointing the barrel at Virgo. "This party's over. Arthur Virgo, I'm bringing you in for fraud."

The room froze. Virgo's eyes widened, but he gave no other sign. "Fraud? Mr. Slott, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then I'll let the judge spell it out for you." I glared around the room. "Every word of that presentation just now was recorded. Which makes all of you accomplices at the least. But I'm going to make sure that each of you rots for the scheme you tried to pull."

The black-suited man whipped a gun from beneath the table. "Are you sure you'll be able to, Mr. Slott?" I glared to answer him. The air became heavy, a primer for the sound of bullets in the boardroom chamber.

Suddenly the edge of the table exploded next to the black-suited man, a mahogany splinter slicing his cheek. He clutched his face and stared in shock at Virgo, whose eyes were obscured by the smoke trail from the barrel of his own revolver. 

Virgo startled slightly, as if in a trance. Slowly, he looked at his gun in wonder before tossing it aside. "This thing has terrible aim.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Virgo announced, pacing as though giving a presentation, "did you know that this meeting room lacks radio reception? This far underground, no signals can be transmitted in or out of the facility."

Virgo swung his finger towards me. "Well I'm sure he knew. Which is why he's threatening us before his backup arrives. He hasn't called any yet."

"You have the right to remain silent," I replied curtly.

Virgo grinned. "Oh, you are fun. Ladies and gentlemen, whether or not he is a detective, Mr. Slott-"

"Officer Danton," I interjected.

He shrugged and continued, "He's merely trying to raise his cut with blackmail. What a savvy mindset! A round of applause, everyone!"

As the boardroom clapped, the tension drifted away, and Virgo was back in control.

"Besides, 'Officer Danton' might want to hear the next part of my plan. I've taken the liberty of using all of your shares for a certain purchase."

Virgo held up seven cards, each emblazoned with blue wave patterns. "These are special plane tickets for our getaway. But this trip isn't about what we're escaping, it's about where we're escaping to!"

The black-suited man spoke up. "And where is that, Mr. Virgo?"

"Where indeed." Virgo leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "Everyone has their own name for it. The Canadians call it 'Nowhere Fast.' It's a place for the dead-enders, for the schemers who've made it. 'White Collar Beach,' is the American name for it, on account of the population. And I believe the Spanish name is 'Guarida de Ladrones'.

"Lair of thieves," Mendoza whispered aloud.

"I, of course, have my own name for it." Virgo grinned. "The kingdom of Scamelot!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm talking about a place untouched by government rule, where your newfound fortune can control the world. It is the center and end for all corruption in the world. I'm sure that every dirty millionaire in the past century will be there, and each would be happy to tell you exactly how gruesomely they made their trade." He locked eyes with me. "Sound interesting?"

I stared back, unwilling to take my weapon off of him. But maybe both of us knew, with that glance, that I couldn't shoot him. And both of us thought we knew why.

The rest of the boardroom gave some semblance of approval, but there was a hint of fear that made them wince as they applauded.

"I'll meet you all there," Virgo finished. "Now Mr. Slott, could you put that gun away? You'll be travelling with me."

Wearily, I lowered my gun. "First class?" I quipped.

Virgo smiled. "No other way exists now."