The Lazarus Protocol: A Sci-Fi Corporate Technothriller (The SynCorp Saga Book 1)

by Pourteau, Chris

  Ming and Ken took their places in front of each contract station. They even looked like a pair, she thought. Somehow Sying had found out what Ken Han would be wearing to the wedding and had designed Ming’s complementary dress: a sleeveless sheath of pure creamy silk with a matching short jacket and pearls as accessories. Ken was outfitted in a dove-gray suit that made her dress glow beside it. When released to the newsfeeds, their wedding picture would be stunning.

  Just the thing to drive Auntie Xi crazy , Ming thought with a secret smile to Sying. Her step-mother’s eyes flashed in response. Ming’s shoulders shivered under her gaze.

  She took Ken’s hand tenderly as they presented their biometrics to the screens and sealed the contract. Marcus nodded to the other lawyer as the funds transferred to the Han account.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” Marcus said.

  Ming leaned down and kissed her new husband. His lips were soft, quivering, and he didn’t close his eyes. His whole body seemed to shake.

  “I have a present for you, Ken.”

  “For me?” His voice went up, delighted. He was an adorable child. A way to ensure Qinlao Manufacturing survived. They were nothing more to each other than guarantors of their respective company’s fidelity to their deal. Ming wondered if that had been explained to Ken.

  “For you.” She passed him a square box tied with a white bow. He tugged the bow apart and lifted the lid. Inside was a badminton shuttlecock.

  “You got me a shuttlecock? Thanks … I guess.”

  Ming laughed. “No, silly, I got you a badminton team. You now own the Seoul Scorchers.”

  His eyes went round. “I own the Scorchers? Me?” He looked at his parents. Jong Chul smiled proudly. Maya’s dubious expression tried to seem happy for her son.

  “Yes, you,” Ming said.

  Ken’s reaction was priceless and perfect. Another triumph for Sying, who’d chosen the gift. “A team of your very own. I know how much you like watching them play.”

  Ruben watched them, eyes shining with envy.

  Jong Chul prodded his son. “Oh, yes, I have a gift for you too, Ming,” the boy said, his rehearsed voice returning. He pulled a rectangular box from his jacket pocket. Ming opened it to find a wide bracelet made with hundreds of tiny diamonds and fitted with a platinum clasp.

  “It’s beautiful.” Ming held out her wrist. “Would you put it on for me, Ken?”

  The boy struggled with the clasp. Ming felt the flop sweat of his nervousness slide along her skin. At last he’d secured it, and she held it out for all to see.

  Sying took her hand to inspect the bracelet. Ming’s pulse raced at her feathery touch. “It’s beautiful,” her step-mother said.

  The clock was ticking. Ming took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, everyone, but I have another meeting I cannot miss.”

  Maya Han gasped. “What do you mean another meeting? We have only just—”

  But her husband placed his hand on her arm, and his wife went silent. “We understand, Daughter,” he said, his new name for her carrying both humor and affection.

  Ming kissed Ken on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Ken. Enjoy the team.”

  Her last image of the room was Sying’s secret smile.

  • • •

  Ito waited for her at the aircar dock.

  “Congratulations,” he said with the exact inflection of a servant. His face was as unreadable as a slab of granite. Ming ignored his tone. Her old master simply didn’t understand the rules of the new game she was playing.

  “Thank you, Ito,” she replied, playing her part in the necessary script. She settled into her seat and held out her wrist with the diamond bracelet. “My wedding present.”

  Ito nodded, then steered the car into the skylanes above the Qinlao building. The trip to their destination, the Dim Sum Delight restaurant, took only a few minutes.

  “I may need you for this next meeting, Ito,” Ming said as she stepped onto the restaurant’s landing. She pulsed a message to Danny that she had arrived and received an immediate reply.

  The Delight, Shanghai’s most famous dim sum establishment, occupied a clear, rotating bubble ninety floors above the streets of the old city. The view was even better than the view from her own office. Ming climbed the stairs to the restaurant slowly, rehearsing the next few minutes.

  Danny met her at the entrance, his smile wide, white, perfect. Dark shaggy hair hung playfully across one eye in the latest style, and he sported three new diamond studs in his left ear. He wore a short black silk jacket over a T-shirt with three diagonal slashes that revealed a peek at his perfect abs when he spread his arms. Tight black leggings completed the avant-garde ensemble. Danny could have graced the cover of any fashion magazine in the world—and frequently did.

  And Ming was here to dump him. Publicly. Painfully.

  He did an elaborate elevator eyes routine on her own outfit. “Whoa, were you at a wedding or something?” He laughed at his own joke. Ming smiled.

  Danny had reserved a too-large table next to the convex window overlooking the city. The appetizer arrived as soon as they sat down. Ming sat quietly as he rattled on about something inane, as usual. She laid the linen napkin across her thighs and lifted a steaming shrimp roll into her mouth with ebony chopsticks. As the delicacy melted on her tongue, she realized she was famished. Ming took another and touched the corners of her lips with the napkin .

  “Sake?” Danny held the ceramic bottle with both hands, the traditional way. She nodded and he filled her small cup, then his. He lifted the cup, staring at her across the rim. “A toast.”

  Ming raised her cup.

  “To us,” Danny said.

  Ming returned his salute, then pulsed a message to Marcus.

  “Send the press release.”

  The sake burned all the way down to her empty stomach.

  It took one minute and forty-eight seconds for the news of her marriage to Ken Han to reach Danny Xiao. His dissection of the latest Paris fashion trend ceased at why wide belts were coming back, and the sake he’d been pouring slopped onto the lacquered table. Danny’s eyes sought Ming’s, then dropped to her white dress. He defocused to read his retinal display again.

  “What have you done?” he demanded, harsh and low. Danny assessed the other diners in the restaurant with the fearful countenance of a trapped animal. He gazed around to see if anyone else had yet seen the news.

  “You’re married?” His voice was hoarse with heat, his face rigid. “To the Han boy!” Heads turned their way from a nearby table. Controlling himself again, he said, “He’s what, sixteen?”

  “Fifteen,” Ming replied. “But his family is rich, and I get to keep my company.” She explained her decision as if reporting on the weather. Part of her was enjoying this. That part of her that would never again have to endure his groping hands in her bed. Behind her, she heard a buzz ripple through the room like wind before a coming storm. Probing eyes sought out Danny. He twitched under the scrutiny, focusing on Ming.

  “You fucking bitch . ”

  Danny stood, flipping his hair out of his eyes. His perfect abs winked at her from the slashes in his t-shirt.

  “I’ll fucking ruin you and that shit company of yours. For this? I’ll ruin your whole goddamned family !”

  He’d clearly stopped caring who heard. Danny threw his napkin on the table and stalked away. The spilled sake seeped into the linen.

  Conscious but careless of the other diners around her, Ming took another shrimp roll. She really was famished. Might as well grab a bite while waiting for the rest of the fallout.

  Auntie Xi’s first call came one minute and twenty seven seconds later. Ming rejected it. The other diners had returned to their own life dramas, though with occasional, furtive gazes thrown her way as she ate.

  “More sake, ma’am?” asked a nervous waiter, a new ceramic decanter in hand.

  Ming held up her cup. “Yes, please.”

  After calling three more times, her aunt pu
lsed, “Answer my call, Ming. We can still salvage this, if we take action now .”

  Ming finished the shrimp, ate a steamed bun with bean paste filling, and told the waiter to send the bill to Danny Xiao. And to be sure and give himself a healthy tip. When she walked back downstairs, she found an impassive Ito waiting by the aircar. As they ascended, Ming pulsed a message to Xi.

  “I’m in a meeting, Auntie. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Where to, ma’am?” Ito asked with cold efficiency.

  Ming studied the city. It really was a beautiful day. And only getting better by the minute.

  “We’re headed for a new opportunity, Ito. ”

  Her bodyguard waited a moment. Then, when no clarification was forthcoming: “Could you be more specific?”

  She laughed. Maybe Ito was beginning to thaw toward her again. Or maybe he was just being impertinent.

  “Peninsula Hotel. Hong Kong.”

  The aircar arced skyward. Ming stared out the window at Shanghai, growing ever smaller below.

  Let’s see what Anthony Taulke can do for me .

  Chapter 18

  Anthony Taulke • Hong Kong

  Anthony loved how the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong reeked of history. The white-washed stone walls and broad French doors spoke of an earlier time, a colonial era of pith-helmeted British soldiers marching around in khaki shorts while elegant ladies sipped tea with their pinkie fingers raised to the heavens.

  Once, in the late twenty-first century, the hotel management tried to erase their colonial past and make the Peninsula just another Hong Kong high-rise. Someone with a nose for branding had put a stop to that nonsense.

  He sat at a table for two by the window overlooking the street. The churn of humanity flowed by on the sidewalk, appropriately separated from the hotel by a narrow strip of green grass and a wrought-iron fence. Soft violin music played in the background, and the white noise of nearby conversations soothed his senses. Tea appeared on the table alongside cucumber sandwiches, sans crusts of course. He nibbled one. Bland on bland. Maybe some things were best lost to history after all .

  Anthony considered ordering himself a drink, then decided that would be rude before his guest arrived. But it was tempting. The Vatican Project was hemorrhaging money. Though financed entirely by Teller, even Anthony was concerned at the rate the cash was flowing with nothing to show for it. The Kansas proof-of-concept test had depleted their store of nanite-boosted bacteria, and Viktor still insisted on maintaining absolute control of their development. At Erkennen Labs, they were still growing the structure in beakers! At this rate, it would take him a century to produce enough nanites to seed the Earth’s atmosphere.

  H, her green eyes flashing, had dismissed the demonstration as a minor victory. “You’ve proven you can manage a fart in a phone booth, Anthony. We need to see meaningful progress. We’re running out of time.”

  Tony only laughed at his father’s predicament. Laughed! He’d never invented anything in his entire entitled existence, and here he was, laughing at the man who’d put him in charge of the greatest implementation of technology in human history. Anthony regretted giving the Mars project to his son. Like everything else in his life, the boy hadn’t had to work for it. He just had it handed to him.

  There was a stir across the restaurant just as Anthony’s virtual warned him Ming Qinlao was arriving. The maître d’hôtel fussed over someone. Heads turned. People whispered.

  Anthony smiled to himself. Dr. Qinlao certainly knew how to make an entrance. She made a gracious gesture at the Peninsula’s head man and weaved her way through the dining room with a light step. Her sleeveless, ivory sheath dress caught the mood lighting, showing off her toned, shapely arms. A single strand of pearls graced her throat, and a stunning diamond bracelet hung on her left wrist. When she caught his eye, her gaze became animated, as if she’d just heard a great joke she couldn’t wait to share.

  Anthony stood to greet her. Ming thrust out her hand first.

  “Mr. Taulke, I’m Ming Qinlao.” Her grip was firm, dry.

  “Call me Anthony, please.” He held her chair out for her, unable to avoid comparing this young woman to Tony. Her eyes swept the table, then met his gaze without hesitation.

  “I realize it’s a bit early,” she said. “But I’ve had a hell of a day and could use a drink. Would you join me for a Jameson’s?”

  Anthony ordered two whiskeys, ice on the side. They made small talk of travel and weather and safe corporate topics until the drinks arrived.

  “We’re just getting to know one another,” Anthony said, “but do you mind if I ask about your day?”

  Ming tilted her head with a you-asked-for-it smile. She took a long sip of her drink. “I’m surprised your people haven’t pushed the press release to you yet.” She shrugged, then leaned over: “I got married, then dumped my boyfriend.” A frown contorted her face. “Well, not my boyfriend, really. An arranged match that I was going along with for political reasons. I imagine American companies have less family drama in the boardroom than the Chinese do.”

  Anthony laughed, a half-amused sound drowned in bitterness. “You imagine wrong.”

  He put two fingers in the air aimed at the waiter, then scanned the newsfeeds for the marriage notice. Kenneth Han. Fifteen years old? And he’d been self-conscious about marrying a much-younger Louisa! This young lady had what it took to succeed, that much was obvious. If her engineering expertise was as good as her political prowess, Taulke Industries would be lucky to have Qinlao Manufacturing as a partner.

  “You’re staring, Anthony. I’m a married woman, you know.”

  Anthony made apologies, his cheeks betraying his embarrassment. This was one thing he actually coveted in Tony. His ease with women.

  “What do you think of my son?” he asked on impulse.

  Ming’s face softened and she sat back in her chair.

  “Tony and I ran in different circles at university. I was surprised by his call for this meeting, actually, but pleased at the same time. To your question—he always struck me as a bit of a playboy, honestly. He’s in charge of your Mars project now? I’ve read everything about it, Anthony. It’s brilliant.” She put her tumbler down. “Maybe I should slow down. I’m gushing, and this is your meeting.” She crossed her arms. “How can I help you?”

  For the first time in weeks, Anthony felt a stirring of hope, a lightening of the load he’d been carrying. This woman was exactly the kind of partner he needed. Direct, honest, purposeful, everything he’d been at her age. A kindred spirit, and if her day so far was an example, willing to do whatever it took to get the job done.

  Anthony decided to trust her. “I need a manufacturing partner for a very sensitive project. A game- … make that world-changing project.”

  Ming leaned in. “You have my undivided attention, Anthony.”

  He dropped a silver privacy disk on the table and pressed the center button. It pulsed a soft blue. “Just a precaution.” He scanned the room, his thoughts flashing to H and her ability to hack his schedule. “You never know who’s listening.”

  Even with the privacy zone in place, Anthony chose his words carefully. “I have a need to mass produce nanites, a proprietary design.” He pulsed her a stripped-down schematic. Ming studied it in her retinal display.

  “Without exact details, I can’t say for sure, but we’ve had experience with this kind of micro-manufacturing. We have a patent on a self-assembly process technique that … yes, I think it would work.” She turned her shrewd gaze back to Anthony. “But you already knew that or I wouldn’t be here. Can I ask what it’s for? I see there’s a recombination link to bacteria.”

  “Sorry, but that’s classified.”

  Ming raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “How much do you need?”

  Anthony leaned back in his chair. He knew he was taking a chance using a Chinese firm to manufacture the prototype, but if it worked, surely the president would want other countries involved in the project
when they took it global. And as Viktor had pointed out when Anthony recruited him, they’d need China onboard to be successful. Whatever influence Ming had with the Chinese government might even make the president’s wooing of the United Nations that much easier. He threw out the biggest quantity he could fathom needing for full implementation.

  Ming’s eyes unfocused again as she studied the schematic more closely. “I can put my people on it immediately—as soon as you give me the detailed design.”

  “How long? ”

  “For the first batch? We’ll have to spin up the Shanghai facility around the new self-assembly process… A week, maybe less. We can scale quickly, if you approve the samples.”

  “I can pay an expedite fee, if that helps.” Was he being too needy? If this woman’s company could manufacture samples of the Erkennen nanite design in a week, the Vatican Project would be back on schedule in no time.

  “I’ll take the fee, of course,” Ming said with a wink. “But I want something else from you.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face.

  “Name it,” Anthony said.

  “I want you to take a place on the board of Qinlao Manufacturing. I need allies, Mr. Taulke. People I can trust.”

  He blinked, reaching for his whiskey. Whatever he’d thought she might want, it hadn’t been that. She looked amused as he drank.

  “I’d be honored, Miss Qinlao—I mean, Mrs. … I’m sorry, I don’t know what your married name is, Ming.”

  She gave him a wolfish smile. “Qinlao, forever and always.” The steel in her voice reminded him just what a formidable young woman he was doing business with.

  Anthony inclined his head. “Of course.” He touched his glass to hers and they finished their drinks together.

  As she talked about her time on the Moon, he studied her closely. She was the perfect first recruit for an idea he’d been toying with for the last few weeks: creating an informal alliance of business leaders to manage this revitalized planet they were creating. It was clear to him the political structures were not getting the job done. The population of Earth was not being served well by its leaders .