by Adam Steel
Blunt was talking with Belushi.
‘Hey Belushi,’ did you check out the local talent at the bar?’ Blunt said.
The other man was agreeing.
‘Yup. She’s hot. Going to show her some of my ‘financial moves’ later. Though, she isn’t local. That one’s come up from Coney,’ Blunt continued.
Maxwell Blunt laughed.
‘Man. I love this job. Nice of them to arrange a few ‘guests’ for us after a day moving and making millions,’ Blunt said coarsely.
Jon Li shrank back, repulsed. Blunt by name, blunt by nature, he thought. He could hear voices coming from the corridor and the footsteps of candidates hurrying to take up their places for the meeting. The Mayor of Eden, Governess Farquhar, marched into the room. Maxwell and Belushi fell silent, trying to pretend they had been waiting patiently. Jon Li recognised her because of her distinct, pearl white hair, which he had seen on many pictures of her posted on the Info-Coms.
Governess Farquhar was accompanied by a smart woman in her forties who he did not recognise. He guessed that she was Jean Kaspragen, the person who had drawn up the designs for the conference table and who had organised most of the details of their visit. The two women greeted him and took their places. While they were greeting him and discussing his flight to Eden (which he pretended was fine) other candidates filed into the room to take their places. He nodded and acknowledgement towards Lance Powers, who had sat down opposite to him.
Fourteen candidates had been summoned to attend the board-room meeting that morning. The digital clock hit 9:58 a.m. and the same two TALOS guards that had accompanied them on the helicopter, appeared in the doorway. They held the doors open. Jon Li and all the other delegates stood up as Masons Royale and Katcher entered the boardroom and took their place at the head of the conference table. The guards stepped inside, closed the doors and stood with their backs to the wall.
Mason Royale addressed the group who were standing silently around the table.
‘Greetings fellow citizens of Eden City, please be seated,’ she gestured, taking her place in the chair next to Katcher.
The group returned her greeting in unison and sat down. She signalled to Angela to start the minute recorder at precisely 10:00 a.m.
The meeting started with the usual formalities of thanking various people for their efforts. Jon Li switched off from most of what was being said. It held no interest for him.
Katcher threw him a steely glance. He was thinking that if the look had substance, then it would have been sharp enough to pierce his body and draw blood. Jon Li sized Katcher up as if they were about to have a duel. He fantasised to himself as the voices droned on.
“He was standing in the grounds of a castle: a carpet of green grass beneath his feet. He was dressed in medieval, aristocratic fashion, and opposite to him was his accuser: the Nobleman Katcher.
He was ready to fight a pistol duel, to defend his code of honour. The nobleman’s servant was Maxwell Blunt. He was bowing to them, and offering them each a duelling pistol.
The duelling pistols were a matched pair of engraved and gilded, French percussion-lock design, that had arrived in a leather case, with velvet lining. The handles were silver and embellished with fantastic designs. They felt heavy and cold to the touch. They contained only one bullet each. The bullets were hand-moulded and weighed half an ounce each.
The servant offered the case to each of them and they took out a pistol.
The duellists faced each other, pistols raised: cuffs of lace dangling from their sleeves. Their stance was haughty and proud.
The lady (they were duelling over) was Royale. She was dressed in a jewel-encrusted gown of gold and silver and she was wearing a hat with a veil hiding her face. Her hand-maiden was Angela. She was fussing over her Royale.
‘Are you ready to duel?’ the servant asked.
They answered.
‘We are ready.’
‘You have agreed by the rules of this duel that you will fight to the death. ‘a la outrance,’ the servant added.
They both nodded at each other.
‘Turn, back to back and walk to the markers,’ the servant instructed.
The markers were swords that had been stuck in the ground, at a chosen spot. They both stepped cautiously to the markers.
‘Turn and face each other,’ the servant shouted.
‘When the signal is given. The duel begins,’ the servant shouted loudly, holding up Royale’s lace handkerchief for all to see.
When the servant dropped the delicate piece of lace it would be the signal to shoot.
The duellists looked hard at each other. They held their pistols at arms-length, at the ready.
The lace handkerchief fluttered in the cold morning air, as the servant released it.
Royale gasped.
BANG
There was only one bang.
He enjoyed his fantasy.
Katcher lay bloodied and dead on the grass of the castle grounds.
His code of honour had been defended, and fully restored.
Lady Royale is secretly smiling under her veil.”
Jon Li’s fantasy was interrupted by his selective hearing of the words: “Phase Three Genie Expansion”. He watched the terrible trio with great interest as they took the centre stage of ‘The Circus’.
Cribbs and Mark stood either side of the holographic screens. Graphs and models lit up the back screen. Katcher sat smugly with his arms folded. He was watching the expressions on the faces of the delegates. The analysts explained how they had transformed the data, which they had received from Katcher and implemented the changes into Eden’s systems with such perfection.
Belushi was trying to sound as important as possible. He pointed at the screen and discussed the shifting of finances to fund the project. What Belushi was showing appeared to seriously undermine the work that Jon Li had been ordered to complete by Katcher.
Jon Li watched and thought, so these were the changes that had been forwarded to Belushi and his cronies, by none other than the ass-sniffing, know it all, Maxwell Blunt. He knew that Maxwell Blunt would have been authorised to make the changes by Mason Katcher personally. What Mason Katcher had failed to grasp about Maxwell Blunt, was that he thought he was better than he was, and in his contemptuous manner, he had gone ahead and sent all the codes for the system changes to Belushi, believing them to be perfect – without running it by Katcher.
That would be Katcher’s first mistake.
Jon Li watched the circus unfold with smug satisfaction. The clown, Maxwell Blunt, was so happy with himself, that he would have kissed his own arse, if he could have reached. The three juggling analysts were losing a grip on their balls. Another delegate walked the tightrope, when he clapped at the performance.
Katcher was now leaning right back on his leather chair and smirking at Jon Li, as if to say: “The ring-leader has well and truly shafted you Mr Li.”
Royale looked like an angry lion who was about to chew the head off its tormentor at any moment. The mood in the circus crowds was slowly changing, as Belushi continued outlaying his proposals.
Frank Smith, a financial advisor to the Mayor, seemed to grasp what was about to happen, but couldn’t quite figure out just how the analysts, had managed to make such a monumental screw-up without actually realising what they had done. They had assigned millions of credits to the phase three Genie Expansion Project, without accounting for the fact, that it had already been spent on Phoenix Palace and the Masquerade Ball. It was a miscalculation of catastrophic proportions.
Katcher’s expression caused Belushi to pause. He was seething, almost fit to burst.
The dancers were in the ring and the show was nearly at an end.
Frank Smith could see that the show was about to explode into fireworks. He was wondering if it was because he did not understand the computing aspect of financial systems. He did know that something fundamental wasn’t adding up and glanced sideways at Jon Li (who gave him what
he thought was a wink).
Maxwell Blunt had gone a deathly shade of white, when he realised exactly what was unfolding on the screen. He seemed confused. He was thinking that it was impossible that they had made such a mistake. Impossible….probably, Maxwell thought. This is bad. I have to do something, he thought.
Maxwell, the Clown, got up, to pull his secret and best trick, to placate the crowds. It was one he had been practising quietly, away from prying eyes and he was very proud of it. The clown took the stage, to pull attention away from the fumbling jugglers. Jon Li had wanted to clap, when he saw the desperate expression on Maxwell’s face.
Maxwell the Clown addressed the crowd.
‘I...I have a contingency solution,’ he said urgently.
He attempted to look as confident as possible, while he outlined his emergency proposals. Jon Li was intrigued.
‘I have discovered an alternative way for us to fund the Phase Three Genie Expansion Project with millions of credits to spare!’ he claimed proudly, as his confidence started to return. ‘It has recently come to my attention, that recently, we have gained a huge surge in the resource that fuels the Genie Reactor,’ the clown announced.
Royale’s back, visibly stiffened.
Katcher looked mortified, as Maxwell the Clown, continued. Jon Li could see the confusion, and shock, that registered across the faces of two masons. Royale hid her reaction well, but it was written as clear as day on Katcher’s face.
‘Thanks to my foresight and extra work, I have worked out a solution that others seem to have missed,’ the clown continued glaring at Jon Li.
‘We can sell our surplus Genie resource! What is it? Nuclear fusion rods? With the influx of resource we’ve had lately, the TAU must be able to produce them at a phenomenal rate. By selling off the surplus, we’ll have all the credits and funding that we’ll ever need to expand the project,’ the clown finished proudly.
Jon Li was astonished at the man’s stupidity. He had mistakenly, assumed too much. Maxwell Blunt had no personal access to the details on the ‘resource’ that fuelled the Genie Reactor, or its stockpiles. That wasn’t part of his system, or work remit. Maxwell Blunt would have had to dig deep to find that information out. Judging by the expression on the mason’s faces, it was absolutely the wrong move to have made. Royale rose from her seat, fixing Maxwell the Clown, in place with a steely glare.
‘The Genie resource is not for sale, nor are its specifics, distribution and consumption, anything to do with your department Mr Blunt,’ she fumed.
The clowns act ended. He shrank away from the crowds trying to look invisible.
The tension in the circus ring, teetered on a knife edge.
Out stepped Jon Li (the master of ceremonies), to present the final act.
“Here we have it folks. Introducing the ‘all new,’ Ms. Angela Bitton.
This is an act, the like of which you have never seen before. It’s death-defying. See how she walks the tightrope, without a net to catch her fall. There she goes, slipping in the holographic disk. Watch her amazing performance light up the room. Watch her show you what a cock-up Katcher and his cronies have made. Let her strut across the wire and amaze you, with her explanation of “how the one and only Jon Li, knew exactly how to fix those nasty little efforts to sabotage his work.”
Oh, yes folks.
The fireworks are really going off now.”
All eyes were on Jon Li, as he set the fuse to a keg of dynamite that would exterminate any idea that he had fucked-up. It was quite the contrary. Jon Li had done his job brilliantly, despite Katcher's attempt to sabotage his every effort and the terrible trio were exposed as the idiots everyone always knew they were. Angela had helped Jon Li to complete the task of presenting Jon Li’s ‘correct’ financial information and in doing so, she had undermined Katcher, but that no longer mattered to her. The information on the disk that Angela and Jon Li had prepared (and shown to the people in the boardroom) merely demonstrated that Maxwell had got all of his figures wrong, that Katcher had been incompetent and deceitful, and that Jon Li was a financial genius. Katcher had tried to set Jon Li up to get him fired, but his plan had back-fired and now he was the one who was facing the axe.
Maxwell Blunt was sitting with his mouth on the table having just realised that he had just been financially castrated.
Royale looked as though she had just experienced three orgasms, in quick succession. She liked Jon Li’s piece of genius. She liked it an awful lot.
Jon Li did not look at Katcher. He did not have to, but if he had, he would have seen something very rare indeed. A tiny bead of sweat was trickling down his anxious face.
Jon Li had one last thought as they left the board-room meeting.
The show is over folks. I hope you enjoyed the performance.
Chapter 32: A Proposition
Sky-Scraper 1: Eden City
Evening: Wednesday 25th July
Outside SS1, the light was fading, as the evening drew in.
On the 48th floor, the stylish cocktail bar was getting quieter, as one by one, the patrons filtered out. It suited Jon Li just fine. He wanted to be alone. Francis Farquhar’s banquet, had lasted most of the day, following the disastrous board-room meeting. Despite her best efforts, it was a wash out, in Jon Li’s eyes.
Maxwell Blunt and the three analysts, that he had worked with, did not attend. In fact Jon Li had it on good authority that they were busy clearing out their offices. Lance Powers did not attend either. Jon Li suspected that he was far too busy chewing out what was left of Maxwell Blunt, and trying desperately to salvage something from the mess his employees had made of his career. Jon Li felt sorry for the man. The disaster with Maxwell Blunt had not been Lance Powers fault. It had been a cock-up of Katcher’s making and Powers was collateral damage. Jon Li had thought that perhaps Lance Powers would be granted ascension into the mason’s ranks one day. He did essentially run Eden’s finances and from what Jon Li could gather, when he worked with him, he did a good job.
The last person to join their circle had been Mason Katcher. Big mistake that was, Jon Li thought. Lance Powers would have done a far better job than Katcher, and come to think of it, so would I. Whatever chances Lance Powers might have had at a Mason-ship, had been well and truly thrown out the window now by the clowns in his department.
Jon Li’s thoughts turned back to the banquet. Katcher and Royale had been there, as planned, but the tension between them was clear. Royale acted dismissively towards Katcher through the entire event, as if he wasn’t even there. Much to Katcher’s mounting irritation. Jon Li had avoided trying to look at Royale. When he did, he had found that she was looking back at him. The look made him nervous. It was the same look that Royale had given to the platter of lobster that had arrived as her main course.
Royale’s going to be trouble. I know it. What have I done? That look she gave me. Ellie would be mad if she had seen that look, he had thought.
The idea had put him off his food.
Angela had been at the banquet in her new dress, but regrettably, he hadn’t been able to speak to her. She had made her departure with Rexton. Jon Li hadn’t had chance to say: “goodbye” to her again, because he was buried in people. He had been thinking that there was nothing left to say anyway and that it would be two more people out of his life. With Angela gone, Lance Powers absent, and his efforts to avoid Masons Katcher and Royale, he had had nobody to latch onto, and he had soon been swept up in a sea of hand-shakes and polite conversation with people he had never met, nor cared too.
He had hated every minute of it.
The rumours about Maxwell Blunt’s dismissal, as well as the man’s obvious absence, had spread around the banqueting hall like wildfire. People were also starting to realise that it was the charismatic gentlemen, executive Li, who had caused the commotion in the board-room meeting. His arm had felt sore from all the hand shaking.
The media had been crawling all over the event. His vision was still blurred
from the thousands of camera flashes he had endured. He had heard some of the news summaries that were being fed back to Coney City (where they would be processed into full news stories).
“MAXWELL BLUNT, SSA TO MASON KATCHER,
REMOVED FROM OFFICE FOLLOWING SCANDAL AT
SKY-SCRAPER 1 EDEN CITY.
THREE TOP ANALYSTS SACKED FOR INCOMPETENCE”
Jon Li wondered how Henson’s team would present the news so that it would sound a little better to the millions of people. They would certainly be earning their pay checks on that one, he thought. He thought about Angela’s description of the news industry: “Henson, The Spinster of Spin.” He took another slug of his whiskey. Good luck with that. Better start spinning.
He held the whiskey glass in one hand, oblivious to the pair of eyes that were watching him from across the bar. The glass was a good design, made from lead-free crystal, tapered at the mouth to allow good nosing of the whiskey. The wide bowl, allowed him to appreciate the colour of the liquid. The thick base curved inside his fingers, like a woman’s waist. He liked quality and great design. He swirled the whiskey around the bowl. He admired its glowing amber colour and the way that it clung gently to the inside of the glass. He held it up to his face and ‘sniffed’ the familiar aroma. Yoichi, twenty year old, single-malt, whiskey. Made in Hokkaido. The world’s best single malt, he thought.