The Mastermind

While Luo Xia was thinking about the mastermind behind it all, far from Hell's Kitchen, in the heart of New York's busiest district, Obadiah Stane received a call from an unfamiliar number.

"Mr. Stane, this is James Wesley. We've got what you asked for ready," a man said over the phone, his tone meticulous, much like the business elites at Stark Industries.

Obadiah Stane had met plenty of people like him, but after their few previous dealings, the Stark executive had been eager to poach him and bring him over.

Unfortunately, James Wesley was the president's secretary at Global Consolidated Investment, and the president's most trusted aide. The president was elusive and kept his identity hidden, while Wesley was so often mistaken for the man in charge.

Yet Global Consolidated Investment continued to operate smoothly under these circumstances, with its business even thriving. That showed just how capable James Wesley was.

But Obadiah Stane knew money wouldn't sway him, so he set the thought aside. "James, I'll send someone to pick up the goods shortly. I'll have the transfer paperwork prepared for those two blocks in Hell's Kitchen. You can come by tomorrow to sign it."

"That's excellent. But you'd better take extra care with the shipment. Things have been a little unsettled in Hell's Kitchen lately," James Wesley warned.

The trouble James Wesley was referring to wasn't the gangs in Hell's Kitchen, of course. It was the mysterious masked man who appeared and disappeared without a trace.

"Don't worry. My people aren't ordinary, either," Obadiah Stane said.

"Then what's the password for the handoff?" James Wesley asked.

"When you see my people, have them light a cigarette," Obadiah Stane replied.

"Light a cigarette?" James Wesley was clearly surprised by the code phrase.

"Exactly."

After hanging up, Obadiah Stane gazed blankly at the glittering lights of New York at night. This time, he hadn't just had Norman Osborn's son kidnapped. He'd also taken a member of Justin Hammer's family. He was preparing to partner with a company called AI and establish a new arms manufacturer, one that would take over all the contracts Stark had abandoned.

He only needed to make sure that the two behemoths, Osborn Industries and Hammer Industries, didn't compete with him. Otherwise, even with Obadiah Stane's connections, the newly founded company might not be able to win back the old contracts.

If he had a choice, Obadiah Stane would never have resorted to such a line-crossing tactic. Osborn and Hammer might not know who was behind it yet, but once the contracts were reassigned, only a fool wouldn't guess who was responsible.

It was an act that would burn bridges, and those two companies were bound to retaliate.

But he had no choice. Obadiah Stane had built Stark Industries alongside Tony's father, Howard, and poured too much of himself into it.

If Tony hadn't gone mad and decided to shut down the weapons division, he wouldn't have had to work with outsiders to claim the empire that should have been his in the first place.

"Tony! This is all your fault!" Obadiah Stane pounded the desk in front of him, seething.

The sleek, high-tech touch-screen desktop immediately brought up a video of Tony testing a Repulsor Blast with mechanical bracers on both hands.

Obadiah Stane had gone to great lengths to secretly record the video without alerting Tony's AI butler, Jarvis. He'd managed to capture only this one clip; if he'd kept recording out of greed, he would have been caught. He'd only been able to get in and out of Tony's home—and even his lab—so freely because Tony had never been wary of him.

"You say you're shutting down weapons production, then turn around and start developing a powerful personal weapon yourself. Tony, you really are just as hypocritical as your father."

Obadiah Stane's expression twisted. As though he'd made up his mind, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Killian, have your people take Norman Osborn's son and Justin Hammer's father away. By tomorrow, I'm sure they'll both give up fighting over the share of Stark's abandoned weapons contracts. Also, I won't get involved in your dispute with Tony. As long as it doesn't affect the new company we're starting together, do whatever you want."

After hanging up, Obadiah Stane slumped in his office chair, utterly drained, as if he'd just finished some strenuous exercise. In the darkness, his eyes glinted fiercely. No one could tell what the former Stark executive was thinking.

Not long after Obadiah Stane hung up, in a hidden warehouse somewhere in New York, a tall man with a buzz cut and a devil-may-care air stood with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He pressed a finger to the cigarette. A red light flashed at his fingertip, and the cigarette caught fire.

He took a deep drag and blew out a cloud of smoke. He looked so relaxed that anyone watching would want to light up, too.

Beep beep beep. A text alert sounded. The man took out his phone and glanced at it, then spat out the cigarette. It turned to ash before it had even flown half a meter, disintegrating before the nicotine could disperse into the air.

The man left the warehouse and climbed into one of two vans with several thuggish-looking men. Hidden by the night, the two black vans set off from New York's bustling center and headed for Hell's Kitchen.

Hell's Kitchen was New York's slum. Much of its infrastructure had fallen into disrepair. Unlike the brightly lit districts, it was almost entirely shrouded in darkness.

Luo Xia and Matt made their way through the dark to the vicinity of an underground parking garage. They could just make out a sign outside that read "Wesley Taxi Company."

It looked like a legitimate business. It could well have been a shell company the Russians were using as a front.

Neither of them approached recklessly. From more than a hundred meters away, Matt listened carefully to what was happening inside the underground parking garage.

After a while, Matt said to Luo Xia, "There are three guards at the entrance. But I don't know if they've installed infrared sensors or anything like that, so I don't recommend going in through the front."

"So you're saying that if we can confirm there are no sensors at the entrance, we can go straight in?" Luo Xia asked.

"Exactly. There are only three people at the entrance, and a long corridor separates it from the heart of the parking garage. There's no one inside the corridor. Once I get into the garage, I can figure out where the child is," Matt said confidently.