by Rob Mclean
They had been issued with some clever new shields; lighter, bigger and supposedly stronger. It always amazed him how they came up with these new materials. He knew that Teflon had come from the moon missions, so he could only imagine what sort of incredible materials the aliens had developed. It was little wonder that BlackSky was so keen to be associated with them and the New UN. They were making no secret of their support for the ‘yes’ vote in the coming referendum and their expectation that all their staff would vote accordingly.
The squads came in out of the sun, joking and jostling. Sweat dripped from their faces, running in rivulets around their grins.
“Good work, people,” he slapped some backs as they passed. “Fifteen minutes and then we do casualties.”
A collective groan rose from the troops. No one liked having to lie waiting on the hot tarmac pretending to be injured, waiting to be treated.
“Today, we’ll do it inside.” He overlooked their grateful faces. “Squad leaders assign injuries. That’s all for now.”
The noise levels rose as people relaxed and sorted out amongst themselves their new roles. Grace nudged John as he went to grab a drink. “Not going soft on them are you, Johnny?”
“Nah, I just thought…” he stopped, then seeing her mocking grin, he scowled.
“You’re taking things too seriously, Johnny,” she dismissed his dark mood with a dismissive wave. “The troops will be fine, especially my squad.”
“Yeah, I wish they were all that good,” he said hoping it didn’t sound too much like a humble brag. “Some of the others are a bit too eager to crack heads.”
“I don’t know that they’ll get the chance. Things seem to have settled down since the riots.”
“Yeah, but that’s only because the alien hasn’t killed anyone and National Guard is still keeping a lid on things.”
“So why do they need us?” Grace asked grabbing a cold soft drink.
“The government can’t afford to deploy the Guard for too long, what with all the other stuff going on around the world.” He swept his arm around in an all encompassing gesture. “Besides, we’re cheaper.”
Grace nodded in silent agreement. She took a sip from her can while giving John an appraising look. “So what’s on your mind, Johnny?” she ventured.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not your normal gruff, cranky self.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you’re worse.” She flashed him a grin. “And you’ve been like it all week. It’s not the stress of management, is it?”
“Nah, that’s just more paperwork…”
“What then?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” He tipped his head back, threw down the last of soft drink and slammed the can down on the bench. “Okay?”
“Sure, if you say so.” Grace took another contemplative sip. They stood in silence, watching the troops chatting amongst themselves.
Grace’s eyes narrowed as a new thought came to her. “Hey, did you hear anymore about that drugged girl, you know, from the nightclub the other night?” she asked, trying to sound professional and disinterested. “You remember her?”
“Yeah, the blonde with the loser boyfriend who drugged her?” his scowl deepened. “It turns out she still has feelings for him. Can you believe that?”
Grace put her drink down. She turned to face him. “How do you know that?”
John shrugged. “We’ve been on a couple of dates.”
“You’re kidding me, right? You can’t mix work and play like that.”
“Why not? She’s not-”
“She’s a victim. And she was under your care. You’re supposed to be responsible for her.”
“That’s all history now. There were no charges laid.”
“Have you put in an incident report?”
“No. Why should I? Like I said, it’s all in the past.”
Grace was about to reply when the murmur of voices around them rose. Heads turned to peer through big double glazed windows to the car-park. John and Grace followed their craning necks to see his line manager, Eloise stepping out of a black company car, the door being held by her assistant, Samuel.
Grace nudged John again as he watched Eloise’s crisp figure stride towards them as fast as her pencil skirt and stilettos would allow. “That’s why you have to fill out the reports,” she nodded towards their boss.
The babble of voices fell silent as Samuel held the door open and Eloise entered the room. She took off her mirrored sunglasses and scanned the collection of sweaty grunts. Her nostrils flared, but otherwise she kept her professional decorum as she searched the room.
Whistles and cat-calls came from anonymous corners, but she paid them no attention. John had to admire her confidence; in a room full of testosterone-soaked, smelly bodies and with only Samuel protecting her, she didn’t look at all ruffled.
She calmly walked with purpose into the room, although John couldn’t think what might have brought her so far from the safety of her ivory tower downtown.
As one of the group leaders, John knew she was looking for him, or one of his peers, so he made his way to meet her.
The cat-calls increased and to his amusement, some of the female grunts were calling out to Samuel, turning his cheeks a flaming red that burned like a beacon against his office tan
“That’s enough,” John’s voice boomed across the room. “Do I have to remind you people about the company’s sexual harassment policy?” The room fell silent and Eloise discreetly threw him a grateful look.
He saw that some of the women continued to make eyes at Samuel, but John decided to ignore that.
“For those of you who don’t know,” he put hand on Eloise’s shoulder, “this is Eloise Gant, Los Angeles central divisional head.” He paused, scanning the room to let the information sink in, before adding, “That means she’s your boss.”
Eloise gave him a tight smile. She then acknowledged the room with a general regal wave of her hand. “Thank you. I’m sure Mr. Hunter has told you all of the exciting opportunities that recent events have presented to our company. No doubt you are all just as enthusiastic as we are, but these changes present challenges that we, as a company, have to strive to meet. And it is through extensive training programmes such as these you are now undertaking, that will enable the company and yourselves to meet and surpass the challenges associated with the change process.”
John watched their eyes glazed over as she launched into her barely incomprehensible corporate speak. All except those whose eyes were roaming over her body. He could see they were mentally undressing her.
“As one of our ‘change champions,’ Mr Hunter will be facilitating this process. I have great faith in his abilities and we anticipate many positive outcomes.”
“Thank you, Ms. Gant,” John interrupted her spiel before the audience became bored and disruptive. “I’m sure we’re all up to any challenges.” He turned to the crowd. “As you were. Ten minutes and I want to see some injuries.”
Eloise raised a querying eyebrow.
“First aid training,” he explained.
Grace shuffled her boots and gave John a subtle kick, prompting his manners. “Oh, you remember Grace.”
“Grace Janet McEwan,” Eloise recited, “forty-three years old, single. Divorced twice. Been with the company for eight years, previously employed by the State Correctional Services. Now squad leader.” A pleasant smile stretched across Eloise’s face. “How are you going in your new position?”
“Um, fine,” Grace said, wide-eyed.
“But I’m sure you knew that already,” John added with a grin.
“Yes, no complaints so far.” The outward smile didn’t waver.
“So what brings you out here today?” John asked. “Sammy needs his sunshine?”
Eloise ignored his jibe, but Samuel bristled most satisfyingly. “I have to talk to you about a lawsuit lodged against the company this morning.”
“Lawsuit?” John and Gra
ce chorused.
“Yes, is there somewhere more private where we can talk? You should come too Grace. It may be an educational experience, now that you’re part of the management team.”
John led them to a spare office, off the main hall, all the while wondering how he and Grace were involved. The clack of Eloise’s stilettos followed him like a predatory metronome.
The office was sparse; a melamine desk stained with coffee cup rings, an adjustable fabric-covered office chair on coasters with a crooked back-rest. The bookshelf had personnel files in lever arch folders in alphabetical order; some old-school instructor was still storing records on paper, contrary to company policy. John held the door open as the rest filed inside.
Eloise rounded the desk, brushed some invisible dust from the sole chair and sat herself down. Samuel opened her laptop and placed it in front of her. He then stood behind her, a distinct smirk on his face while she clicked her way to the file she wanted. John and Grace stood facing them, awaiting the news, hands behind their backs, feet apart.
“We have an allegation of assault, arising from an incident at the ‘Sportsman’s Club’ the Friday before last,” Eloise read from the screen. “Do any of you recall the night?”
The discussion John had had with Zeke vividly came back to him now. The smug look of entitlement he wore when he was first questioned and how it changed to injured pride and outrage as his fun was thwarted. Now it looks like he was going for payback.
“We had a drugged girl,” Grace volunteered. “We had to question some of the patrons. I’m sure it’s all in Johnny’s report.”
Eloise shot John a querying look. He groaned silently. At least Grace was acting like he had already written the report.
“It will be,” he said, “I haven’t quite finished it yet.
“An incident report should be filled in at the time of the incident. Otherwise details are forgotten.”
“Yes.” John noticed Samuel’s smirk widen. “You’ll have it by tomorrow morning.”
“By five would be acceptable,” she said without hesitation. John mentally rearranged his day and realized that his lunch break would be the only opportunity he’d have to do it.
Not waiting for a reply, Eloise continued. “We get complaints from the public often regarding the way they are treated by our security division. Usually that’s all they are, complaints. It is rare that it is escalated to litigation. The plaintiff must believe that he has a good case.
“They never think they’ve done anything wrong,” John said. Grace nodded in support.
“That may be the case, but from a legal point of view, we must ensure that our procedures have been followed to the letter.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I do the report.”
“I’m sure you will,” Eloise said, giving him a quick look amid a flurry of keystrokes. A few moments later, she leaned back from the laptop and gave them her full attention.
“We have an excellent legal team and as a valued employee, you will receive the full benefit of their expertise,” Eloise said, but John only heard that there was an implied possibility that they might lose. He wondered what that would cost him.
“Normally, most cases are settled out of court, with compensation paid in return for non-disclosure declarations. In this case however, the plaintiff has recruited a formidable legal team, and it would appear that they are determined to win.”
John nodded. It fitted in with what he knew of Zeke and his family. A spoilt, rich kid who’s had his favourite toy taken away. He’s gone crying to his parents, who have brought in the legal heavies. “So what do you need from me?”
“Besides the incident report? Nothing.” She tapped out a few more keystrokes and shut down the laptop. She gave him a reassuring smile. “Our legal team will defend you. I will forward them a copy of your report. They might get in touch with you to ask a few clarifying questions. Is that all clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Any questions?”
“No, ma’am.”
Eloise closed her laptop and handed it back to Samuel.
“It really is a most unfortunate speed hump, but I’m sure we’ll all look back on it as a valuable educational opportunity after it’s all settled.” She gave them all an encouraging smile, while showing them the door. Samuel was the first to realize that he conversation was over and ushered Grace and John out the door.
“If I may have a moment more of your time, John?” Eloise asked, waving Samuel out the door. “In private,” she added when she saw Samuel’s hesitation to leave.
“Sure,” John said, wondering what she could want with him now. Grace gave him an ‘I told you so and now you’re in for it’ look before closing the door behind her.
Knowing that Eloise currently subscribed to the ‘praise publicly, condemn privately’ philosophy, John now fully expected a more thorough telling off than the public one he had just received. He turned with hesitation to face his boss. To his surprise, she didn’t look to be her normally confident self.
Fidgeting with her silver bracelet, she paced back to the desk and sat herself on the edge. Her head drooped forward as she scuffed the carpet with her heels. A matching ropey silver necklace hung freely from her neck, made up of many fine silver threads woven closely together, each a slightly different hue.
“I’m turning thirty soon,” she said, lifting her head to fix him with her gaze.
“Okay…” John wondered where the conversation was going. “Do you need security for your party?”
“No,” she laughed, a little too loud. “I…”
John waited for her to continue, but instead she stood and paced around to the other side of the desk.
“I want you to forget that I am your boss,” she said, “for the moment.” A crimson glow crept up her slender neck.
“Okay…” He waited again. His normally articulate boss was lost for words.
“I have a business proposal for you,” she said finally and shot him a quick glance.
“Business?”
“Yes, purely business.” A fresh confidence returned to her now that she had reframed what she wanted in terms of a business deal. “Off the record and unofficial.”
“I don’t do assassinations,” John said trying to lighten the mood. She laughed loudly again; a forced laugh, a nervous release.
“Your humour is one of the reasons I have chosen you for this job,” she smiled at him a little too familiarly for his liking.
“What job?”
She lifted her chin and looked him directly. “I want to get pregnant.” She held his eye contact, “There, I’ve said it. What do you say?”
“No.” He didn’t need any thinking music.
“No?” Her face contorted as she was both offended and confused. “How can you say no? Are you not attracted to me? I thought…at that party when we were first inducted…I thought you liked me then.”
“I did,” John confessed. “I did then…”
“But not now? Is it because I’m your boss? I told you to forget about that.”
“I have a girlfriend.”
“Oh…” John hoped it would stop her and it did for a moment, but then a sly look crossed her face, “but she doesn’t need to know, does she? You don’t tell her about every job you do? I mean, I can pay you for your time if it helps?”
John could hear the determination in her voice. “Why don’t you use a sperm donor? You can choose from heaps of guys and get the one you want.”
“I don’t want some anonymous donor. I want to know who the father of my child is.”
“I’m not ready to be a father-” John crossed his arms.
“You won’t be,” she reached over to put her hand on his forearm. “You’ll just be the donor.”
“But what about the child? What will you say when they want to know about their father?”
“I’ll tell the truth; that it was a business proposition. They’ll understand.”
“But a child needs a
father-”
“No. They don’t. Plenty of children grow up these days without fathers,” a steely tone carried her words. “I grew up without a father. I’ve done just fine.”
John could hear the bitterness in her voice, and although he felt sorry for her, he knew that he could never burden a child with this sort of mother.
“I guess a regular husband is not an option?”
“Ha,” she scoffed. “I don’t need a man to mess up my house, my finances, and my life. Relationships are all about compromise. There are many things I won’t compromise about, and I have never met a man who was willing to submit to all my needs and wishes.”
A wistful smile crossed her lips. She gave him a lop-sided grin. “I only need a man for one thing, so how about it?” She put a finger up to stop his answer. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it for a while.”
She sauntered over to the door. Before she opened it, she turned back to him. “For you it would just be wild sex. No commitment. Consider it a business arrangement; I just want your seed.”
Her sweet smile disappeared as she added, “And don’t forget that report in my inbox by five.”
Chapter 38
Several piles of books had been pulled from the shelves and were stacked in towering piles in the aisle.
Angela had spent every day this week counting and cleaning stock in the bookshop. It was a slow and tedious job, but she would rather be doing this by herself than have to talk to Chelsea. She had no doubts that she had been given the mind-numbing job as a form of punishment, but she wasn’t going to give Chelsea any satisfaction by complaining.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front sliding doors opening. She lifted her head and peered over the bookshelf to see if it was a real customer. From the counter, Chelsea cast a stern look her way as she strode over to serve, denying Angela any reprieve from her drudgery.