by Paul Bagnell
*****
A little later on in the morning another meeting was scheduled, which Tom and McBridle attended. A classified memo indicated that the military was exploring the possibility of producing army fatigues fashioned from an extraordinary high-tech, lightweight, fire-resistant fabric capable of withstanding heavy weapons’ impact. The expected completion date of this project was ninety days.
The Doctor was extremely cordial and introduced the five guests seated at the board table: L. T. Farms, Jack Per-Long, Doctor Beltmin and two other gentlemen, whose names Tom was unable to recall, but he knew they were high U.S. brass by their mowed hairdos and stiff postures. Robert indicated that the fabric project was still in the experimental stage and scheduled for further testing in the coming weeks.
Robert Carravecky controlled the meeting. “Our budget is right on target; and we’re expecting our actual costs to come in around two hundred and fifty million, exactly as we forecasted. It’s extremely important to you and to us that our world-wide research and developmental activities are imperviously protected and remain best-kept secrets. That commitment to you gentlemen, I can guarantee. So my friends, I turn the meeting over to Doctor Beltmin.”
Beltmin rose to his feet. A petite man in stature, small-boned and frail in appearance, he appeared 65-years old, maybe 10-years older than he actually was; and he was dressed in a blue blazer and grey baggy flannels, which looked like he’d slept in them after a good night of boozing. He leaned over the table and viewed deep into each person’s eyes, as if he was tapping into their deepest, darkest secrets. His voice didn’t seem to match his body, as he spoke with a strong, youthful tone. “The first thing I would like to do is introduce this amazing discovery. I call it, Prime-X 18-2 Fabric Shield.”
The room remained silent as each attendee listened intensely.
“The thing so unique about this discovery is its organic matrix, which rejuvenates just like a tree’s foliage at springtime. It’s durable, flexible, and fully able to withstand the force of practically anything.” He walked around the table as he talked. “As my mother, God rest her soul, once said: luck has no boundaries.” He looked at Tom. “Totally by accident, I discovered the formula while employed with a bioengineering firm in Europe several years back. I kept it my own private little secret until Carravecky came along with a bag of promises,” and smiled with a full mouth of pearly teeth.
One of the named attendees seemed to clear his throat; this sound noticeably irritated Doctor Beltmin.
Beltmin’s body tensed up, but he continued onward, “I am extremely convinced with further research and development that this technology will revolutionize the future and change military and law enforcement dress codes as we know it.” He paused momentarily behind Tom with his eyes directed at McBridle. “Although, still in its infancy stage. I am concerned about protecting the formula and manufacturing process. Companies and countries or whoever is rich enough to buy an army would kill for Prime-X 18-2. Nothing can be compared to this shielding product, nothing now or ever.”
Beltmin reached into a protective metal case and retrieved a small square patch of the material, wafer thin and grey in colour. Its texture resembled that of fibre paper. “This is just a one layer sample, but it can be fabricated into any layer configurations to create an optimum protective exterior for the aviation and space industry. So, gentlemen, you can imagine the possible applications of Prime-X 18-2. Not only is it light‑weight, strong and durable, but I believe it’s indestructible.”
“Doctor, what do you mean by indestructible? Nothing is indestructible,” L. T. Farms inquired.
“With torturous impact, the shielding grows stronger, more resistant, more indestructible,” Beltmin admitted diabolically.
Tom viewed the material sample until Beltmin locked it away.
Doctor Carravecky’s eyes panned the length of the room before standing up, “A very worthy investment as this material could easily be incorporated into the U.S. defence arsenal. The nice thing about this product is that it’s able to withstand hot and cold temperatures, which truly amazes me; and as Doctor Beltmin mentioned, it can also be used effectively in aeronautical airframes and space exploration applications.”
There was a dead silence in the boardroom until Jack Per‑Long interjected asking Doctor Carravecky and Doctor Beltmin the same question, “The L-18 prototype missile carrier, will it incorporate this Prime-X shielding?”
Carravecky replied quickly, “From what I understand, the L-18 Sky Carrier hasn’t left the computer drawing board, but I believe it could possibly incorporate this organic shield; however, putting a craft of such magnitude into the air is billions and decades away so your question is Who knows what the future holds?” Doctor Carravecky admitted proudly.
“I’m also concerned about the nature of my financing,” Jack Per-Long assumed forcefully. “If such a system is created, it’s probably intended to carry nuclear death seekers.”
“Yes, Jack, that could be a futuristic military possibility,” Carravecky admitted softly.
“You know, Carravecky, we go back a long way. That scenario worries me, worries me a lot,” Per-Long expelled.
“I reassure you, Jack, the L-18 is still a figment of someone’s technological imagination. To satisfy your anxiety and put your mind at ease, it’s possible that special target seekers controlled by a sky carrier could only work effectively if they’re equipped with technology intended to create destruction. If the enemy is hiding in the clouds, in or on the ground, or under the water, or wherever, our smart heat will smoke them out and show them a goodtime dying party. That’s the nature of investing in weapons development.”
“Then you’re talking advanced stealth technology?” L. T. Farms inquired.
“Beyond advanced stealth, the most accurate technology delivered to enemy airspace by an unmanned flyer. So, gentlemen, as a matter of internal security and confidentiality, I can’t elaborate any further on this futuristic, classified subject, which may or may not exist. So, Jack, I respect our long friendship and business arrangements; but the future continues to change and evolve. So must we. I’m hopeful that my shallow explanation will extinguish your concerns, at least for now.”
“I somewhat feel relieved; but, you know I have heart-wrenching reservations about whether my hefty investment in the development of this 18-2 stuff is going to be used on a weapon system, which could potentially kill a lot of innocent people. I didn’t sign up for that.”
“I understand your humane concerns,” Doctor Carravecky reassured his friend.
“You also know that my private involvement, if things go sour, could have a negative effect on my international relations with foreign governments that finance my good corporate deeds; that is, if it becomes known that I’ve supported such a killing project.”
Tom gazed at the soft-blue wall coverings. Eventually, his eyes were drawn to Samuel, who appeared uninterested in the whole matter.
Tom noted that the time passed quickly. McBridle adjusted her silvery Swiss-made watch; and by the sound of Doctor Carravecky’s voice, it seemed like he was ready to adjourn the meeting.
The contractual conditions were silently navigated. Robert escorted the project investors from the boardroom. Doctor Carravecky reassured each of them as they left, by saying: “This Prime-X is a financial winner, nothing to worry about. I’ll arrange for a more comprehensive update pertaining to the project advancement in the coming weeks. Thank you for your support. We’ll talk soon.”
Doctor Carravecky returned, appearing pleased with the outcome. He addressed his concerns to Tom. “Mr. Bronze, I was a bit worried at first; but I’m glad you attended. You should be more informed as to what we do here, now that you sat in on one of our high-priority secrets. It’s highly important we determine where this breach had originated and by whom. Celia, as you are aware, there are a number of sensitive developments in progress at this very moment; and if any one of them leaves the perimeters of this complex without a
uthorization, we would definitely have a doomsday problem.” He directed his voice and eyes around the room like he was issuing an executive warning.
Then the Doctor adjourned the meeting and left the room. Oddly, Samuel punted around; he appeared to be praying for time and eyed Tom as if he wanted to convey a secret message.
Tom just watched him nervously ponder as he left the area.
McBridle packed her papers into her carrying bag and snapped it shut. She held a page of rough notes in her hand. “Tom, are you ready?”
He nodded, “Yes, of course.”
“Then let’s get cracking,” she said with eager anticipation, “the big-money clock is ticking.”