She responded in kind. “Chicago, Illinois.”
“Do you have family there still?” Italian.
“No. I don’t.”
“Where did you attend university?” Greek.
“I attended my undergraduate studies at Stanford. I attended graduate school in Oxford. I did my post graduate work at Moscow University.”
“If I were to tell you that my profits are down by ten percent in retail sales, how would you propose that I make up for the loss?” Spanish.
“The simplest solution I could offer would be to reduce the price on older products and make up the difference in units.”
“What’s the computing rate for an N2-20 hard drive?” Mandarin.
“The N2-20 is a military device and according to the last article I read it computes at 900 milicycles per millisecond. Though that was two months ago, so the information may not be reliable any longer.”
“If I were to host a breakfast banquet for visiting dignitaries… say the Family of D’vesk… what warm entrees would be prepared?” Cantonese.
Lanie smiled inwardly at the question. She could sense that he was really beginning to test her knowledge of such things. “The D’vesk family hails from Norway, and culturally speaking they don’t eat “warm” meals for breakfast. Though for breakfast I’m given to understand that they actually enjoy sandwiches that include meat cuts, cheeses, jams or jellies. Sometimes they eat oatmeal or porridge, or even yogurt mixed with freshly cut fruit. Though the D’vesk family might be inclined to break their usual cultural layers and desire something else. I understand that Freya D’vesk, the wife of Bjorn D’vesk is partial to French toast.”
Mr. Madison gave an approving nod. “How many new varieties of private flight cars were released last year by my company?” Icelandic.
“Twenty-seven were released to the open market between 2189 and 2190… though there would have been twenty-nine if Flight Vector hadn’t poached your designs.”
“A horrible scandal that was,” he replied in Vietnamese. “How could I have prevented such a disaster?”
“As I recall the ground-floor of your industrial facility in Murmansk was hacked electronically and all of the digital watermarks on your designs were removed. In my own experience digital information is the easiest to procure and I have often found that creating hard copy designs is an ancient – but effective – means to keep personal information from falling into the wrong hands.”
“Hard copy?” he asked in Urdu. “You mean paper documents?”
“Easy to make… harder to steal… and one cannot make digital recreations of them without scanning wet-ink watermarks into them, thereby nullifying any potential issues over rightful property.”
“What is your favorite pastime?” Swahili.
“I enjoy reading most… though I do enjoy the occasional trip to the cinema.”
He gave a second approving nod. “I like it.” He said so with an English accent that she found nothing short of charming. He set his pad down and finally looked up at her, crossing his hands in his lap.
If he was a god in any sense of the word she felt privileged to be under his gaze. He sat in his chair, looking so haughty, so confident, that he could very well have passed for a god sitting so high above the rest of the world.
“Ian Madison,” he said formally. “I’m pleased to meet you at last, Ms. Church.” He turned his head slightly as if trying to observe her from a new angle. “I must say that I admire your gumption in applying for this position. Most people who approach my company are of the mind-set that they must start at the bottom and work their way to the top. That sort of thinking has its uses, but there’s a reason why I put that application out as I did. Do you know why that is?”
He wasn’t testing her, she could tell by the pitch of his voice. He was being honestly inquisitive. She shook her head. “No, sir, I don’t.”
He steepled his fingers together, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair. “Because I believe in the power of intelligence, that’s what I was taught ever since I was young… ever since I… first came here.”
She didn’t speak. She was able to tell that he had more to say.
“If a man or a woman works from the ground up, they learn the system from its lowest level all the way up to the administrative positions. Such people are useful, to be sure, but that’s hardly the kind of person that I’d like in my inner circle. If one believes that they are intelligent enough to shoot straight for the top and bypass all that goes on beneath them and they prove that they can, then that is a person that I should very much like to have as my aide.” He began to swivel from side to side lightly in his chair. “What did you think of my little questions, Ms. Church?”
Again, she could tell that he wasn’t being testy. He was simply looking for honest answers to simple questions. She gave him an honest answer. “They’re not what I was expecting.”
He arched a curious eyebrow, but there was nothing disapproving in the expression. “No?”
“No.”
“What were you expecting?”
She let her fingers slide along the edge of her portfolio. “Perhaps some ideas on business plans… prototype presentations… book keeping… appointment scheduling… things of that nature.”
He waved her words off. “Anyone with access to a tablet and knowledge of how to operate a calendar could do as much.” He stood up and she saw that again, like a god, he towered over her, by at least 30 or so centimeters.
Domineering as well and handsome, eh?
She barely managed to keep herself from whispering ‘shut up’ to the voice in the back of her mind again.
He rounded the desk and she felt her heart quicken at his approach. As he drew nearer the air around her suddenly felt warm, as if it were being brought to a boil and she felt her skin dancing and tingling as she never had felt it before.
“When it comes to the selection of those in my inner circle, I like to get a more personal experience. You can read all that there is to know on someone through public records or some other means, but I find that you never really know someone until you speak with them face-to-face. Do you not believe so?”
She nodded. “I can understand the merit of such a thing.” Then she caught the subtext of his words. “You’ve obviously read my files.”
He smirked, a genuine sign of approval. “What gave me away?”
“The languages you picked… you spoke them in the order that I learned them.” She felt a sense of daring well up inside of her. “Your Swahili is a little off, by the way. It’s plain enough that you don’t actually speak the language, Mr. Madison… I’m guessing you referenced a language program to learn to pronounce that single question properly?”
His smirk became a full grin. “Oh… you are very good, Ms. Church. Although I must say that your forthrightness is a tad… pompous?”
“Forgive me, sir,” she said, feeling a sense of nervousness, thinking that she had overstepped her bounds. But she felt enough courage and caution within her to cling to her principals. “But I was always taught that if you’re never honest with someone on their shortcomings that they never improve.”
Madison burst in a loud laugh and she thought for certain that everyone in the world below them could have heard him. It was thunder rumbling from the mountain of a god so that the people would know that he was there.
“You’ve got cheek, Ms. Church, I’ll give you that,” he said, turning and walking back to his desk. As he walked away, that warm feeling in the air vanished from around her and the tingling feeling slowly subsided. Her heart rate slowed and while his back was turned she took a visible breath of relief and straightened herself up once again. “And I must say you’ve got tenacity… that’s something in rare supply around here.”
He settled back into his chair and looked her over once more. “Ass kissers are a dime a dozen in this business, Ms. Church. Clients… employees… the board of directors… people looking to partner with my company… gr
ant seekers… every day, it’s the same thing. ‘Mr. Madison, you look exceptionally handsome today!’ ‘Why, Mr. Madison, that’s a brilliant idea!’ ‘Mr. Madison, I and twenty other people did not think of that!’”
He rolled his eyes and groaned and there was something very humanizing in the sound and expression, like he wasn’t the richest man in creation. “I’m not looking for someone to butter me up and ply me with compliments at every turn. Life is not all sunshine and rainbows… there is plenty that is dark… cold… dirty… violent… dangerous… and untruthful. That last attribute is the one that I believe can be done without on simple impulse. There is little that can be done about the dark, the cold, the dirty, the violent, and the dangerous. But it’s between every soul and their conscience on whether or not to be honest. That is what I’m looking for.”
She gave a small nod. It seemed simple enough. “I see, sir.”
His expression changed, becoming inquisitive and testing her for a proper response. “Do you have what it takes, Ms. Church?”
She was able to honestly respond. “I don’t know of any other way to conduct my life, Mr. Madison.”
“Your life? Not your job?”
“Most jobs have regularly set hours, sir. No one ever stops living their life.”
He was still and silent for a time, looking at her over his desk as if mentally sizing her up. She had seen the look on many others before and had learned to endure it. Whatever it was that he was thinking he had a reason to do so. Nothing she could do could affect the outcome of such a thing. It was best to allow him to reach his own conclusions.
After a short time he again folded his hands in his lap. “You’re aware that this is a live-in position, correct?”
“I am, sir.”
“Then you realize that your job and your life would in essence become the same thing? You would be at my service every hour of every day, unless I say otherwise. Would that be a problem at all for you Ms. Church?”
“Not at all, sir.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Good. I believe you. And that is something that I rarely do with people that I’ve just met.”
She again waited as he tapped his fingers together contemplatively. She could tell well enough that he had one more conclusion to reach and it was best to let him make it.
“I have read your files Ms. Church. I do believe that you can fulfill the requirements of the position as they were described. But I’m always looking for something… extra… when it comes to my attaché.”
She didn’t let her confusion show. “Something extra, sir?”
He nodded. “Yes, but that is a conversation that will be had at a later time… if it’s to be had at all. Time will tell.”
There was something final about the remark and Lanie was too experienced from practice interviews to know not to bring it up again. It was done, if the topic – whatever it was – should rise again, she would just have to wait and see.
“But first thing’s first. I’ll need to get you started almost immediately. The first item on the agenda would be to bring your personal possessions here. From your file I recall that you live on the 311th level of Samson Tower, yes?”
She nodded.
“Good… I own that building. Feel free to return home and pack, Ms. Church. Though I recommend you pack light and return as quickly as possible. A bag with a few days’ worth of materials should suffice quite nicely. I’ll contact one of my moving crews and I’ll have all of your personal possessions packed up and shipped here to my private facility by tomorrow morning.” He smiled across his desk at her. “Congratulations Ms. Church. The position is yours.”
Lanie felt in that single moment that she might explode from excitement. This interview had been nothing like she had expected and it had been far shorter than she had thought it would take. And yet… the job was hers. She had heard it from the head of the company himself. It seemed so unreal… like a dream that she refused to wake up from. And though her legs were demanding that she dance here on the spot, it took every last ounce of her strength to keep from doing so.
“Thank you, Mr. Madison.”
“Ian,” he corrected.
“Excuse me?”
“Ian… that’s my name. If you’re to be in my inner circle, then I would consider you to be a friend. And my friends all refer to me by my first name.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sir… uh… Ian. And, I suppose it’s only fair that you can call me Lanie.”
“Lanie…” he said, testing the word. “I like that. Welcome aboard, Lanie.”
Chapter 3
By the time she returned three hours later with a single packed bag, Lanie realized how much her life had changed. And how much faster paced it was about to become.
When she returned to Madison Tower she was greeted at the security desk where a personal I.D. chip was issued to her and inserted subcutaneously into her right hand in the web of skin between her thumb and index finger. The guard that performed the simple procedure ran a scanner over the newly inserted implant and her image and personal information flitted to life above a display via a holographic projector on the other side of the security desk.
Underneath the image the words “Full Access” pulsed in bold red lettering.
“This’ll get you through all of the doors in the whole building,” the security officer explained. “But there are some places that it won’t let you through.”
“Like where?”
The security officer smirked. “You’ll know when it happens.”
She wanted to press for more information but thought better of it. If this was to be her life now she had better get used to the idea that there would be some things that were going to be more easily experienced than explained. She simply accepted it and when she was shown to the elevator that was reserved strictly for Mr. Madison – Ian – and those of his inner circle she put such thoughts from her mind. If she was going to get started on her new job, her new life, right away then it was time to get sharp.
“Welcome Ms. Church,” said a mechanized feminine voice once the doors closed. “I am Mercy.”
The voice almost made her leap, but she managed to keep the reaction minimal. The sound had originated from an overhead speaker and she knew that there had to be monitoring equipment of some kind inside the lift watching her. Reflexively she asked, “Mercy?” as the lift slowly began its ascent.
“I am a home-interface program designed by Madison Tech. I run the building operations and report to you and Mr. Madison. I suppose you could say that I am your attaché just as you are to Mr. Madison.”
“You’re an A.I.?” she asked, astonished.
“No, not an A.I.,” the computer clarified. “I am not designed to expand my programming or learn new abilities. I am more like the old cell phones that people used to carry if you’re familiar with such things. I am a communication and interface module that is linked to all of the critical systems of the building. Department heads and other staff all report to me and keep me apprised of their progress on critical issues or projects. And I, in turn, report to you and Mr. Madison.”
There was a chime and the doors to the lift parted.
“Here is your living space, Ms. Church,” said Mercy.
She stepped out of the elevator and found the hallway deserted. It was very much the same as the floor on which Ian’s office resided, filled with long stretching corridors and numerous doors. But as before, there was no sign that there was another living soul anywhere on this level. But there were plenty of doors to choose from and she wondered which she had been assigned. “Which one is my room?”
“You misunderstand,” Mercy said, her voice just as clear in the hall as it had been in the elevator. “This entire floor is your living space.”
Lanie froze and couldn’t move another step.
“Excuse me?”
Mercy explained. “Mr. Madison has been in need of a good attaché for several years now. Part of the reason his
last assistant could not cope with the high stresses of the job was because she was unable to relax as needed. Mr. Madison does not wish this to happen again, so he took measures to insure the well-being of his new aide. This entire level will suit your needs, whatever they may be, in order to keep you in top physical and mental form. This level is second-from-the-top floor and is reserved exclusively for you. Even Mr. Madison will not come here without your invitation if you so desire.”
Lanie’s jaw felt as though it could have hit the floor. Just from looking she imagined that this level was about the same size as Ian’s. But there was no possible way that all of this space could have been hers. Especially when there was so much space that it could have held the population of a city block.
“It’s all mine?”
“Indeed,” Mercy replied as she began to walk. “Feel free to choose any room you like as your primary residence. I’ll advise Mr. Madison’s moving crew to bring your personal belongings there when they arrive. I’m sure you’ll find any of these living spaces suitable. Some of them come with private dining and kitchen areas that are similar to standard city housing units if that is your preference. There are others where you will have a private cook if you so desire…”
“A private cook?” she interjected as she walked.
“Yes… I would recommend such. Your duties for Mr. Madison will not leave you much time for cooking for yourself. There will also be times when you will have very little time to eat, let alone prepare anything.”
She nodded, unable to argue with the logic of that. “Duly noted… okay…” she said, gathering her thoughts. “Alright… well… let’s get started then.”
Chapter 4
The first couple of days were by far the simplest of her new career. She learned her way around the building while following Ian and getting a first-hand tour. The point of such a thing being that he wanted her to become familiar with the projects that he had the most interest in. Of which there were many.
“There are more projects currently in motion than even I can count,” he explained as they toured a lab that was developing some new kind of personalized computer that fit onto the back of a person’s hand. “It’s my position that I – and therefore you – don’t need to be notified of their progress until they reach a certain point. I don’t personally care to be constantly looking over someone’s shoulder asking for results. That kind of pressure creates sloppy results, in my experience. Mercy is familiar with every project and she’ll advise you once they reach that stage where you and I need to be notified. Once done, I’ll expect you to become an expert on each project and how far it has come, as well as its intended aim. I’ll need the assistance when looking for a target audience when it’s time to hit the open market, as well as making the formal presentation to our board.”
HIGHLANDER: The Highlander’s Surrender Bride (Scottish Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) Page 50