Insequor

by Richard Murphy

  “Daniel?”

  “Veronica?” he said, and turned, the sunlight momentarily blinding him. He could see her outline against the clouds. How could this be?

  “I’m Sally,” she said, “Veronica’s sister. We never met.”

  She held out both hands, he took them and pulled himself up. Tears and dirt smeared his face. She looked like Veronica; the same soft smile, rascally eyes. The hair was different, tied back and she was shorter. But unmistakeably her sister.

  Guilt made his arms weak. His throat was swollen and dry as hell. He felt ashamed to be talking to her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sally held his hands, held his gaze but stepped back slightly. “I know,” she said.

  “It was my fault. She shouldn’t have been there.”

  Sally was already shaking her head as he had started to speak. “What do you mean?”

  “I asked her to be there, I wanted her there.”

  “Where?”

  “Where it happened. Damned military.”

  Sally was still shaking her head. “Daniel, I know you and my sister were close but you’re not making any sense. Veronica died in a car accident; you couldn’t have known.”

  His hands fell to his side, his fingers unclenched and a chill ran through his lungs. Toby. It seemed so obvious, so silly now. He’d never met Veronica’s family; there’d never been time during their short but passionate romance. He’d never gone back to meet her dad and talk about sports or complimented her mum on her baking. They’d just jumped straight to international jet-setting and spending weeks in each other’s arms. To Toby, it probably all seemed so neat.

  “Is there someone I should call? You don’t look so good.”

  His tongue searched around his mouth, keenly seeking moisture. His mind tumbled around for words. He wanted to tell her the truth, but what good would it serve? The family had already gone through unbearable pain; would it help to know that it had all been a lie? Her death even more pointless than a car wreck. Or perhaps this was better, easier to understand. More tangible.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just not myself. I didn’t mean to offend you. My life is…complicated.”

  “I know,” she said, looking a little freaked out. “I guess she was on her way back from one of your trips? They so excited her.” She turned to the gravestone and he noticed for the first time the flowers in her hand.

  “I had to come back with these. They’re from our grandmother’s garden; Veronica’s favourite.” Sally leant down and placed the flowers at the foot of the stone. Satisfied, she stood back and looked down.

  “Veronica spoke about you a lot,” she said. “To me, not our folks. They were pretty pissed she was off gallivanting around the world with a billionaire.”

  He smiled and followed her gaze to the gravestone, but he felt uncomfortable, as if Veronica was looking at him now. Was this betrayal?

  “To think you took her to all those places and then she gets herself killed driving back home from the airport. Must only be five miles away. Still, we can take care of her now.”

  “What I said about the military; I’m sorry, I’m under a lot of pressure.” He started shaking his head and scratching his temple. The lie felt bad, but easier.

  “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have crept up on you like that. If you don’t mind me saying you don’t look too good. Do you need a ride?”

  “No, thanks,” He nodded to the cab at the gates. “I better go. I’m sorry, so sorry. Goodbye.”

  She waved, her eyes following him all the way to the car. He shut the door and told the driver to take him back to the hotel. As he did so he heard his phone vibrating on silent. Fishing it out, he saw the caller’s name. Toby.

  After he answered, the silence lasted maybe four or five seconds.

  “Where are you, Daniel?”

  “I think you know.”

  “How are you?”

  “I just bumped into Veronica’s sister, Sally. Have you met her?”

  There was a pause, a brief one, but a pause.

  “Yes.”

  “Strange, but she seems to think Veronica died in a car accident.”

  Another pause and an intake of breath. “Do you want to talk about this now?”

  “Sure let’s talk. Let’s talk about how you lied to her family.”

  “You must realise nearly everything we do is classified. You’re not that stupid. Do you think we could tell her parents anything about our operations? Or the UHP rockets? Or what we know about the robot?”

  “Save it!” Daniel shouted at the handset, crushing the phone in his hand, hissing down the line. “I’ve had enough of you. I don’t need your help anymore.”

  “You have to see this was better for everyone concerned?”

  “Toby, we’re through.”

  “I know you’re hurting.

  “The time for talking with you is over.”

  “If you don’t talk to us then who? The Russians? Chinese?” He could hear Toby sighing at the other end. Probably running his fingers through that long, curly black hair of his.

  “Nobody of note,” said Daniel. “Goodbye, Toby.”

  Chapter 38

  Around the table a host of accountants and lawyers were looking stressed. Several of them had taken their ties off and all were sweating, their glasses resting on the edge of their noses. It had been a long twenty-four hours but an even longer two years.

  Daniel looked up at the war board; a flashing list of currencies and indexes. “Alright, its midnight,” he said, “Japan is about to go online. How are we doing?”

  “NASDAQ closed way down,” said one of the men, looking at his laptop. His fingers brushed through the hair, noticeably massaging his scalp as he did. “We’ve got a one-hour window if we move now.”

  “And the assets?” He looked at one of his lawyers to his right.

  “They’ll be in a holdings company here in London. In the morning we strip it and declare it bankrupt. That’s when we make the purchases.”

  Jones had walked in as the man spoke. “Purchases?”

  His Head of Security was looking fresh, adjusting his cuffs as he sat down. Daniel wondered how much the suit cost; wondered how much he was paying him. He didn’t know these days.

  “The complete liquidation of Abraznia”, said the lawyer. “Their government’s only option will be to relinquish state banks and deposits to us and then – “

  The lawyer nervously looked at him to check whether he was good to continue in front of Jones.

  “Then I’ll own my own country,” said Daniel, leaning forward on the table. His arms spread wide and a slick grin crept up one side of his face. “Have we got the predictions for economic knock-on effects? And I also need that military report.” He waved his hand at a man stood near the door. “The last thing I need on my hands is a coup.”

  “Okay people, we’ve got work to do,” said an accountant, whose name he could never remember, before standing up and heading for the door. Everyone followed and they ushered each other out of the room, files under arms. One stayed behind and continued to work feverishly on his laptop. Daniel sat next to him and started checking his phone.

  Jones stood up and walked over to the big screen to inspect it. The giant, flat monitor sparkled numbers and letters in equal measure which he could tell Jones didn’t understand.

  “What about the people?” he said, looking at Daniel sideways. “Their jobs? Their homes?”

  “What?” he said, without looking up from his phone. Sixty-four emails? This was getting ridiculous. He’d have to get his ICT people to do something – he’d only checked ten minutes ago.

  “Their families?” Jones was looking across from the screen, its light catching his face and the numbers tracing across his skin. “You can’t bankrupt a country.”

  “It’s quite alright, sir.” The guy at the laptop looked up. Daniel was surprised to see he was no more than a kid really. “What we’re talking about will all happen on
computers.”

  Jones scratched his head. “But when you make countries bankrupt, doesn’t everything just go to shit?”

  Jones was still the moral compass; even after all they’d been through. He slipped his phone back in his pocket and walked over and put his arm across his shoulder.

  “We’re not destroying anything. I’m going to leave the parliament, the police and civil administration in place. I’ll just need some changes.”

  “Frankly, we see it as an opportunity to make life better for the Abraznians.” The kid smiled at Daniel; maybe he wanted petting?

  “Changes?” said Jones, looking up at the screen. “If you mess this up you could be wiped out.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “What if it does?”

  “Then I’ll just start again. I’m the ‘Robot Man’ remember?”

  “What does that even mean?” Jones forced a smile and then turned to leave. As he reached the door he looked back. “Need anything before I turn in?”

  Ever faithful, that’s why he loved him so much. “Get my PR people in here. I need a press conference for ten o’clock. Make sure you tell them I want it spun so that I look like Mother Theresa on this.”

  As he entered the press conference later that morning several of the journalists acknowledged him as he sat down at the desk set on a small plinth at the front of the hotel room he’d hired. He thought for a second. Hired? Didn’t he own this hotel? He wasn’t sure but it wasn’t important. Not now.

  A lean, feral looking, bronze skinned man with dark hair and dark eyes followed and settled himself besides him. He smiled, nervously, at the cameras. A few puzzling looks from the journalists helped Daniel decide it was time for introductions.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. The background murmuring stopped; phones were put away and laptops closed. About twenty sets of eyes all looked back. “I’d like to introduce Mr Ashmavedz, the Ambassador for Abraznia.”

  The statement had little effect. A couple of cameras swung and snapped but then turned straight back to Daniel.

  “At a little past one o’clock this morning the global banking crisis hit Abraznia and hit it hard. There was a run on the national bank and several others. I was made aware through my financial advisors here in London and like everyone else looked to immediately pull out all of my investments. But that’s before I spoke to Mr Ashmavedz.”

  The cameras swung to his left again; snap-snap. The Ambassador smiled but he looked pretty confused for someone who was about to be revealed as an economic genius.

  “He convinced me there was another way. He told me I could help.”

  Mute expressions waited. Keep it sincere, his spin-doctor had said. Be serious and above all push your concern about the people themselves. Their jobs, their homes, their lives.

  “Last night, I’m proud to say, an economic disaster was avoided. The people of Abraznia will continue their lives today with little or no knowledge of what had to be done to save their country. I’m proud to say funds secured from my corporations have been injected into Abraznia and I have nullified their deficit. Something which, we hope, we can build a sound and prosperous future on.” At this point he smiled and patted the ambassador on the back as if they were old friends.

  A few of the journalists exchanged stares. Finally, one raised a hand. Daniel didn’t recognise him so he must have been local. This was confirmed when he spoke in a British accent.

  “I beg your pardon, sir. But do you mean you’ve bought a country?”

  Snap-snap went the cameras. They all looked across at him as if they were watching tennis.

  Daniel sighed, this has been expected. “On paper, yes. But I see it more as a loan. The banks will be able to keep functioning and the country is debt free. The people of Abraznia can go about their business today as if nothing has happened.

  “Can I ask how much you have given them?” A blonde woman from an East Coast U.S. network.

  “A lot. I’ll leave it at that.”

  “Now that you technically own a country do you have any plans?” Daniel smiled at the attractive looking reporter on the front row. She chewed the end of her pencil provocatively as she caught his eye.

  “I won’t be taking any part in the affairs of state of Abraznia. Next question.”

  “Are you planning to visit Abraznia?”

  “Yes, I’d very much like to meet with their government representatives and see if I can help out in any way at all.”

  “What about an official residence?”

  Daniel was starting to tire of this now. “I have property in most countries out of necessity. Abraznia won’t be any different. Thank-you everybody.”

  His team were already between him and the reporters, arms outstretched and starting to usher them away. Several kept calling out questions, but he smiled blankly and waved them away. The Ambassador remained in his seat looking perplexed. One of his aides took care of him – the poor man had been woken very early indeed and ordered by his own prime minister to attend the press conference. Daniel got the feeling that he hadn’t actually been informed what it was about.

  He walked out of the back of the room and made his way to the hotel restaurant; he hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Breakfast sounded good, along with about a week’s worth of sleep.

  As he sat there, a hot pot of coffee gently brewing he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment. He’d done it. His own country. Now the plan could begin; all he had to do was make sure the government of Abraznia knew what their instructions were. And if they didn’t like them? Well, he could always get a government who did.

  Jones would be concerned, he always was, especially where Professor Grey was concerned. There was danger ahead, risk and almost certainly a big slide in his popularity. But this was the first time he ever felt optimism about stopping the robot.

  “Your majesty.” Daniel opened his eyes. Toby was sat opposite him.

  “Hello Toby.”

  “Care to explain what’s going on?” Toby poured them both a coffee.

  He shrugged. “You heard the press conference, right?”

  Toby slurped his coffee and looked at him over the top of the cup. “I did. But I want to know the truth.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play innocent. It doesn’t suit you anymore.”

  Daniel scoffed, “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve grown and credit to you for that. The young man I met all those years ago was barely more than a boy. Look at you now. Possibly the richest person on the planet, owner of several of the most powerful corporations that ever existed and now, to top it all, you have your own country.”

  Toby looked out of the window at his side. London was, once again, slowly waking up. Scattered lives gradually began their inevitable accumulation through the city’s streets.

  “You people are nothing to do with me anymore,” said Daniel. “I’m not your concern. Hell, I’m not even an American citizen.”

  “The safety of America’s citizens is my concern though, even if you’re not one of them. We had reports of you buying up some serious hardware from Mother Russia. Potentially even nuclear equipment. Now I don’t doubt you’ve hidden your plans well, but if they think that’s what this is they’ll act. They’ll act fast.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “That’s what this is. You think I’m going to try and nuke it?”

  “Then what is it?”

  He stood up and threw down his napkin. “Like I said, I’m not your concern anymore.”

  As Daniel got up he grabbed a croissant and stared at Toby. He almost felt sorry for him; the years had not been without their price.

  “Goodbye, Toby.”

  He left the restaurant and went straight to a car outside. By lunchtime he was on a plane and by late afternoon they had landed. Abraznia was a cold, derelict basin. The general who greeted them off the plane had sneered at him with a lip more used to cursing cold commands. The government officials seemed strangely abs
ent and it was clear from their journey and escort into the capital that the army seemed to be in control.

  When they finally did reach parliament he saw only the odd, spectacled civil servant feverishly trotting past to give a clue they were in the government’s headquarters. At every doorway, every room and reception soldiers stood, like statues, ready to be awakened.

  Daniel, Jones, two lawyers, security and an interpreter finally got to a large set of double doors on the top floor. The general opened them and, surprisingly, stood aside to usher them in shutting the doors behind them and remaining outside. Maybe the real power wasn’t with the military?

  Inside, the Abraznian Cabinet were seated along one side of an enormous table. A fireplace sat behind the President at the end; its blazing light offering heat even were they stood some thirty feet away.

  Daniel sat, his entourage stood behind him. The President started to speak, in Russian, the interpreter sat next to him nodding his comprehension before turning to him.

  “The President would like to offer his thanks for your assistance. He would like to assure you that he and his cabinet, the people and indeed our country are at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, but I have no interest in making your life any more difficult than it already is,” said Daniel, as the interpreter began his translation. “The cash flow will continue and even now aid is on its way to some of your more rural areas.”

  The officials hadn’t been expecting this and he noticed the surprise on their faces as the interpreter relayed his words. They’d been expecting demands. The interpreter looked at him once again; it was clear the Abraznians had nothing to say.

  The President stood and spoke directly at the interpreter who turned to Daniel. “Is there nothing we can do to express our friendship?”

  This was too easy, he thought. But then again, he had just saved their country from ruin…albeit a ruin he had machinated.

  “Well, as you no doubt know, I have some oil interests.” He gestured to one of the lawyers who went around to the other side of the table and unfurled a map in front of the President, much to the alarm of his assistants.

  “I’d like to take a look at a holding on this area.”