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asked for his research to be destroyed. It was important, and if handled properly, would bring him the power he deserved. Money and power.
    He’d given up much for that power. He was married once. His wife had left him a long time ago, taking his young son with her. It was just as well. He’d had more important things to do and didn’t have time for them. And now, when that elusive power was within his reach, almost in his grasp, he couldn’t allow a sudden burst of his father’s confused conscience to stand in his way. He couldn’t let a promise to a senile old man put a stop to his dreams.
    Besides, he had come too far.
    He rose to his feet, and turning his back on the sleeping invalid, strode from the room.

     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 8
     
     
     
    Monday, August 22nd, 7:45 PM
     
    ANNIE DROPPED INTO the swivel chair and pulled it closer to the desk. She touched the space bar on the keyboard and in a few moments the iMac woke up, the monitor revealing a photo of Matty and Jake in one of their many wrestling bouts.
    She booted up Safari, googled Bonfield Development, and was presented with several pages of information on the massive company.
    A quick study showed Bonfield owned and developed hotels, resorts, and residential towers in different countries, as well as owning several pieces of high-end real estate in most major cities.
    A recent news story stated president and CEO, Charles Robinson, was bidding on a select piece of land in the downtown area of Richmond Hill. Their chief competitor was Sheridan Construction, another large development corporation.
    It was estimated the land, not counting any value from the buildings, could be worth more than $20 million. According to the news story, it was expected Bonfield would win the bid. They planned to build another upscale office tower; their third in the city, and it was predicted to overshadow even the prestigious Bonfield Place.
    Charles Robinson appeared to be the catalyst in all of the corporation’s undertakings. Annie wondered how the bidding would go now that he was dead.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by a crash from the living room. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. The guys had broken something else.
    “Can’t you boys take that outside,” she shouted.
    “Sorry, honey,” she heard back.
    “Sorry, Mom.”
    She pushed back from her chair and wandered into the living room. Jake was examining a leg of the coffee table, which appeared to have been the latest victim of their carousing. He looked at her sheepishly. “No problem. I can fix it.”
    “That’s the second time you broke that table,” Annie said.
    “Yeah, and maybe not the last.” Jake raised his arm and examined his bruised elbow. “Better to have a broken table than a broken arm.”
    “You’re not as tough as you look, big guy,” Matty said.
    Jake glared at him. “I’ll get you next time.”
    Annie laughed, dropped into the couch and tucked her legs underneath her. She was pleased she could laugh off the incident. It was only a table, but she had struggled a lot with her inclination to be like her mother who ruled her house with a sharp voice, demanding everyone adhere to her stringent demands.
    Matty strolled from the room as Jake plunked into the armchair. “Did you find out anything about Bonfield?” he asked.
    Annie nodded. “Quite a bit. They’re a pretty large company . . .” She was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.
    “That’ll be Hank,” Jake said, as he rose to his feet.
    Matty charged from the kitchen, got to the front door first and swung it open. “Hey, Uncle Hank. Come on in.”
    Hank messed up Matty’s hair the way he always did. “Hey, Matty.”
    Jake appeared in the foyer. “We’re in the living room.”
    Hank followed Jake into the room, sat on the couch, leaned back and relaxed, while Jake returned to the armchair. Matty plopped in between Hank and his mother.
    “We dropped by the precinct today and talked to Cheryl,” Jake said.
    “Did