Free Shattered Legacy by Shane R. Daley

meeting with them?” Tyler asked.
    “You’re not going.”
    “The board is going to ask you legal questions, Ramona. I can’t prepare you for everything they might ask.”
    “Then send someone with me. Send Dusty.”
    “Fine. Bring him along.”
    Ramona had kept Tyler from executive-level meetings before. He saw this as her way of keeping him out of the spotlight and eliminating the possibility that he would upstage her. Not that he would ever intentionally do that, of course.
    Ramona eased back in her seat. “So, basically after twenty-four hours, the best you can tell me is that the FBI took some purchasing records, and because we don’t know what they might be looking for, we’re not even sure how big a problem we’re facing.” She spread her hands. “You’re not impressing me, Samson.”
    “Hey, cut the guy some slack.”
    They both turned to see Jacob Jackson at the doorway. Templar’s Chief Financial Officer was a large man with the bearing of an athlete. His suit was casual and loose, and true to his unconventional style, he clenched the stub of an unlit cigar in his teeth.
    “We buy a ton of government surplus material,” Jackson said, quietly closing the door behind him. He nodded a greeting to the others and pulled the cigar stub from his mouth. His face was rugged, more suited for the outback than the boardroom, with thin gray hair combed straight from one side of his head to the other. “We use most of the material for testing purposes, particularly at the New Mexico site. We've been doing it for a while now. It saves us money.”
    For Jacob Jackson, it was always about the bottom line. Jackson had been appointed Templar's CFO soon after Dorian bought up the company. Years before, Jackson had been a successful partner at the investment firm of Goldman Sachs. On the day they met, Tyler had suspected Jackson had once been an investment banker. Even at fifty-nine, the man still plastered his hair down with gel.
    “And these purchases are all through normal channels?” Tyler asked with a twinge of concern.
    Jackson gave a cryptic smile and snapped the cigar stub back in his mouth. Then he walked over and fell onto the couch beside Ramona. He looked over at the younger woman, grinned, and then chewed thoughtfully on his cigar.
    “Yeah,” he finally answered, looking back at Tyler. “We follow standard purchasing procedures. Of course we do.”
    Tyler moved away from the window and sat down behind his desk. “Do we buy scrapped weapons systems? We’re tracing back the purchases and -”
    Before Tyler could continue, Jackson interrupted him. This habit often annoyed his colleagues. “Listen, folks. In the last few years, we’ve bought everything from desks to computers to scrapped Tomahawk cruise missile casings.” He held up his hand. “The missiles were used for rocket experiments. Nothing sinister, I assure you. Look, I personally oversee our procurement accounts. We deal with reputable intermediaries. If we didn’t, somebody would have already been out of a job.”
    Tyler studied Jackson's craggy face and sharp eyes, trying to determine just how serious the older man took the situation. Jackson’s statements were reassuring. No one - not even Sinclair Dorian - knew the inner workings of the company better than Jacob Jackson.
    Jackson was shaking his head. “This is such bullshit. It never ends. I get so tired of defending what we do.”
    “This could get ugly,” Ramona said, drumming her fingernails on the couch arm. “We could have our public relations department just announce the investigation before the details are leaked.”
    “That might not be a great idea,” Tyler said. “We should let the other side make the first move. Then I could have us -”
    “Before you do anything ,” Ramona broke in, “you're going to run it past me. I want to know everything that happens, as it happens, Samson.”
    “Of course,” Tyler replied, biting back his annoyance. “And while