“Wait, Wait. Mike. It’s okay. You did okay,” Cherry murmured under her breath, smiling at the people around them as if she were pleased to be here, in their company; all in a day for her. Ordinary. This was what they did every evening.
She was right. Mike pasted a smile on his face and introduced himself to a couple at his left, near the bar. Though startled by his impulse, they greeted him cordially and he and Cherry were accepted into the flow and swept smoothly along the river of privileged and self-indulgent attendees. But to Mike, this evening was already a monumental failure. He’d had such high hopes; stupidly high, as it turned out. He felt like a fool.
Time dragged on, with Mike contributing to conversations only when Cherry prodded him. She was doing all the heavy lifting, while he followed Moses Zhang around the room with his eyes. He drank in Zhang’s every expression, his nuances, how he compensated for his lame hand, his hearty laughter at something someone had said, his awkward gait. Zhang never came near where Mike and Cherry stood, and as often as Mike tried to position himself and his very popular wife to engage with Zhang, it seemed to him that Zhang made a counter move, circling in the opposite direction. It was subtle, and maybe was all inside Mike’s head, but he could have sworn that Zhang was actively avoiding him. Why? Did he suspect something? Or was he averse to mingling with the lower levels of his made-up world? Had he recognized a pretender the moment they met?
Mike burned at this thought. He’d literally spread millions of dollars around this city in his efforts to catch Zhang’s attention, to gain entrance into this insular world, and now the guy wouldn’t give him the time of day? Forget sucking up. He should just find a way to snatch him and force him back into that Bore. Not elegant, but doable. It would take money, lots of money, and that Mike had in spades. The market was his own piggy bank. He needed some cash? Invest in the next up and coming wunderkind’s IP. It worked every time.
If he could just get close enough to Zhang…
Which, apparently, would never happen. Even if he didn’t think Zhang was actively avoiding him, security was all over the gala like a bad rash, including Conrad. Mike dropped his gaze to the glossy shine of his shoes, which had been stupid expensive, as was this monkey suit he was wearing, his interest in the current conversation nil. What did Zhang believe might happen here? What was he afraid of?
Me. He’s afraid of someone like me.
And he should be.
Mike buried his hands in his pockets and sighed, realizing his year-long plan was a bust. Zhang was dangerous, with wild ideas that were destroying Cloud Rez, but he wasn’t a stupid man. He was extremely well protected. Mike’s vision of he and Zhang hanging out, getting close, and Mike either convincing him to return to WEN 2341, or forcing him to return, was not going to happen. The truth was, he hadn’t given a lot of thought to what he would do once he met Zhang face-to-face. He’d thought he’d know what to do when he got there.
What had he envisioned? Nothing. Or maybe he’d thought Zhang would simply agree and come along nicely?
Mike’s plan had stopped at finally catching up to Zhang. What happened afterward he had not considered. He glanced around without much hope and was not surprised to find Zhang was nowhere in sight. The musicians were losing the battle against the guests’ noisy chatter. The place fairly glittered with the jewellery that dripped from the women, all dressed in vividly colored, swirling gowns designed to best showcase feminine assets, apparently content to play the role of expensive show pieces for their tux-trussed husbands. Why were he and Cherry even here? This wasn’t their world.
And what is your world?
This was a dangerous question; one Mike did not want to examine. Everything he’d done here in the early twenty-first century was with one goal in mind—find and return Zhang to WEN 2341. Failing this—find and stop Zhang, by any means possible. Before he could prevent it, the vision of Trenholme’s pale, naked body, lit by moonlight, lying in a shallow grave, flashed into his head. Was he capable of killing again?
He shook away the image, angry at himself for his naiveté. Coru had called it, hadn’t he? Payton didn’t have the stones to pull this off, plain and simple.
Now he just wanted to grab Cherry and leave.
Con tapped Mike’s shoulder lightly while pressing his index finger to his ear device and murmured something to the security team. Mike twisted around, startled and more than annoyed at Con approaching him here at the party. No one knew they were connected and Mike needed it to stay that way.
Con looked at him with distant eyes. “Mr. Zhang would like to speak to you in private.”
Yes! Mike couldn’t believe it. Yes! Yes! Yes! This was working. He fought to smother his eagerness. Play it cool. You’re an up and comer, you want to play on Zhang’s team…
“Cherry,” he began, practically bouncing in place.
Conrad cut him off. “Just you.” Conrad smiled amicably at Cherry. “Mr. Zhang has arranged for Mrs. Eggers’ safe return home—when she’s ready, of course. No hurry.”
Cherry glanced between Mike and Con, playing the part of not knowing Con and ignorance as to Mike’s burning need to meet with Zhang finally realized. She smiled and answered breezily, “Oh, that’s totally fine with me. You men can talk business.” She linked her arm with the woman next to her playfully. “And I’ll get tipsy with Whinny here.”
Mike inhaled a steadying lungful of air, both grateful for Cherry’s willingness to play along and in anticipation of meeting Zhang face to face, in private. This was the opportunity he’d worked for from the moment he’d dropped out of the Bore into that stinking, filthy alley. This was the reason he’d clawed his way out of the gutter, raised himself up, fought to be recognized. He had arrived, and Zhang had finally noticed. This was his chance to make things right.
Biting back a grin, he followed Conrad through the crowd, his gaze trained low, his insides jiggling with nervous energy. Realizing he was breathing too fast, too shallowly, he concentrated on deep, slow breathing, on bringing his heart rate from racing to a steady, saner pace. Yes, you’re eager, but you’re not a young pup. You have smarts. You have something to offer.
Con stopped and turned abruptly, a decorative curtain becoming the surprise entrance into a smaller room which led into a hallway, which in turn led to an elevator which took them up several floors to the penthouse. Alone in the elevator, Con stood beside Mike, face forward, his expression blank. Well played, my friend, Mike complimented silently, following suit, glimpsing up at the cameras.
The door opened, and Mike stepped out alone. He glanced inquiringly back at Con, who nodded pleasantly, leaned forward and pressed the close door button.
Mike turned and took in his surroundings. Palatial would be the word he’d use to describe this to Cherry when he got home. The space was huge and circular, with curved crown molding encircling the room and shielded indirect and discrete lighting. The walls were painted in stunning murals, Trompe L’oeil—to deceive the eye—depicting Greek columns and curved archways leading out into sumptuous gardens and trickling water fountains, all designed to expand the footprint of the penthouse, on every side. It worked.
It was as if he’d stepped into a massive garden that stretched out all around him. It was stunning. When he stepped hesitantly across massive marble tiles, placed in an intricate pattern that displayed their deep gold veining to high appeal, he found that he was alone.
Advancing into the room, past enormous, over-stuffed furnishings, he saw that not all the fountains were painted. Some were real, as were many of the gardens. A cool breeze came from an open garden door, seeming to invite him out to a balcony patio the size of his entire condo. The patio was opulently furnished with deep red plush-cushioned seats, some centered around a flickering fire, others arranged to enjoy the stunning view of the city skyline, all laid out before him. Flowering plants filled the space with fragrance and from their depths faint and restful violin music played into the cool night air. He saw there were two glasses
and a bottle of wine on a table, with two chairs set to overlook the city.
“Payton Wisla.” Zhang’s amusement was evident in his voice.
Payton turned toward the sound, his features bland. “Moses Zhang.”
Zhang was dressed in a rich gold and burgundy floor-length brocade gown, his injured arm wrapped in gold this time, the limb completely disguised from sight. With a slight hobble, he made his way toward Payton, his good hand extended in greeting. “We meet at last.”
His nerves relaxed, and feeling wonderfully cool and calm inside, Payton raised his eyebrows in question, and gripped Zhang’s hand briefly but remained silent, letting Zhang reveal himself. This was it; this was his moment, and he would play his hand very carefully indeed.
Moses nodded toward the two seats and wine glasses. “I have looked forward to our meeting with great anticipation.”
Payton didn’t answer, waiting to hear what Moses knew of Payton, here in WEN 2038.
Moses smiled. “Sorry to make you wait. Your man was persistent; I’ll say that. You’ve done well with him.”
Mike pushed down his surprise and gazed at Moses as if mildly amused. Zhang didn’t look sorry at all.
“I wasn’t ready for you yet, you see. And, frankly, I wasn’t sure if I was willing to share this with a Wisla. I do have an unpleasant history with your brother.”
“So I’ve heard. From best of friends to raging enemies in one short senior semester.”
“Something like that. Would you like the truth this time?”
Payton laughed softly and glanced significantly at the wine. “Are you doing the honors, or shall I?”
Moses smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgment. “If you would.” He raised his injured arm slightly.
Payton could see now that it was significantly shorter than the other. Were…were the fingers gone?
Moses murmured, “A little reminder of my trip through the Time Bore. Most inconvenient.”
Not knowing what to say, Payton uncorked the bottle and poured the wine. Whatever Zhang had done, he had done to himself. No one had forced him to jump through the Bore.
“Thank you.” Moses raised his glass to Payton. “To old friends.”
Payton clinked his glass softly with Moses’s, and answered, “We were never friends, Moses.”
Moses’s dark eyes burned with confidence. “Perhaps after tonight, we can correct that.”
Payton sipped from his glass, at a loss for how to respond, waiting Moses out, watching for any sign of where his head was. “Mmmm. Good year.”
“Four thousand a bottle.”
Payton arched one eyebrow lazily. “A bargain.”
Moses laughed and tossed back the balance of wine in his glass. “Your brother was right. You are full of it.”
Careful not to react in anger, Payton shrugged and sipped again. “Brothers. What can you do?”
“Hit me again.” Moses stretched out his glass. “Not much, I guess. Sibling rivalry is as old as time.”
“Coru and I were never rivals. We simply lived different experiences as a Wisla.”
“That wasn’t Coru’s take on it. He was a fountain of…” Zhang stopped and studied Payton’s face critically, then sighed. “But that’s in the past, young Payton.”
Smug bastard. Refusing to rise to the bait, Payton went straight for the jugular. It was why they were both here. “You know I have to take you back.”
“You know I won’t go.”
Payton shrugged again and said nothing.
“Why you and not your hulking, self-righteous brother? I was expecting a Wisla for sure, but you weren’t it.”
Swallowing the insult, Payton tipped his head and smiled. “Will any Wisla do?”
“Coru’s a goon. All he knows is how to dig in the muck and moan of social injustice. So dreary and completely unoriginal. I had higher hopes for him back in school. I was extremely disappointed, I must say. Your father, Cyprian, on the other hand, had the insight of a sand flea. I’ll stop there. You, however, have a brain. You’ve made something of yourself here and have potential.”
Fighting the overwhelming urge to punch Zhang’s smug face, Payton turned his glass, studying the wine inside with great interest. Coru could drop you without breaking a sweat, you self-righteous twit. If Coru were here—.
“I noticed you when Jump Start took off. I recognized a fellow, shall we say, astute visionary investor? There was no way you could know it would peel out of the gate like it did without foreknowledge. You shut me out completely. That’s when I knew someone had followed me through.”
“Just looking after my best interests,” Payton replied. “A man has to eat.”
Moses smiled. “This is true.”
There was lingering silence. Payton resisted filling it. This was Moses’s show—Payton was here to take it all in.
Moses stood abruptly. “You won’t succeed in this mission to stop me, to save that screwed up world we had going back in WEN 2341, so you can just give it up now. Why not think outside the box, young Payton? Why not use that clever mind of yours and effect change that will make a difference in this world, and in our world in the future? A positive change, good for all.”
Payton stared back at Moses. “You seriously think I can be convinced tearing apart our world is a good alternative?” He put his glass down and stood up to face Zhang, eye-to-eye. “I’m not here to drink your Kool-Aid; I’m here to stop you, one way or the other.”
“What if I could convince you I have an alternative solution, good enough to satisfy our mutual dilemma?”
“Don’t waste your time.”
“Time.” Zhang turned away and moved toward the rail at the edge of the balcony. “This is where it gets interesting, no?”
Payton was losing interest in this little game of cat and mouse. “What are you talking about?”
“You will return to WEN 2341 within moments of leaving, right?”
Payton drew closer. “Yes.”
Zhang waved away his questioning expression with his good hand. “It’s what I would have done. Your father isn’t a total waste of skin, I must admit.”
Payton bit down on his need to bark at Zhang. My father, First Council Cyprian Wisla, is twice the man you’ll ever be. “I—we return within the hour.”
“You have an entrance here?” Moses’s question was lightly spoken, but Payton sensed the answer was extremely important to him. If Moses had been injured during his jump, did that mean his Bore entrance had been damaged also, or even destroyed? Was there no way for him to return?
Payton stepped deliberately beside Zhang. “I do, and it functions still.”
Zhang’s eyes flared with excitement for a fraction of a second before he could hide it. Payton was right—Zhang wanted access to that Bore. Why?
“Care to share its location?”
Now it was Payton’s turn to laugh. “I’m not an idiot, Zhang.”
“Gotta give it a try, right?” Zhang tipped his head in acknowledgement. “But still, I have a proposal for you. You’ve seen what’s happening here, you’ve read the histories. You know it all started back here. We can change that. I’ve financed water restoration, habitat rescue, plastics recovery from the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, the co-operative dismantling of destructive fish farms, awarded large grants to industries successful in reducing their emissions, their production effluents no longer pouring into the Pacific. The list goes on and on. All financed with advanced knowledge of the markets, which, I’m thinking will not always work, as I slowly change too many elements crucial to this time period. “
“You’re playing God, Zhang. This will not end well, no matter how well-intentioned you think your motives are.”
Zhang smiled sadly and walked slowly along the railing. “Have you not manipulated the markets yourself, influenced harbor cleanup efforts, supported habitats for the homeless here in the city? I know you have. You, young Payton, have the heart of a truth-seeker. You know what needs to be done—and
we’ve only just begun!”
“We? There is no ‘we’! When I left, our world was literally falling apart. I have no idea what we’ll be returning to, but I pray it won’t be too late when we do.”
“But what if the changes we make here are good ones? Would that not change the future for the good? What if there was no need for Cloud Rez? What if Surface was not in ruins? What if we all lived on Surface, in a clean environment, at peace with nature, rather than at war? Think bigger. Think better.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
Zhang turned abruptly and faced him. “Are you sure?”
“No one can be sure. The fact is, what you and I have done already may have…” Payton couldn’t make himself go on, this being the first time he’d spoken of his fears about the changes he had made here in the past and how it would impact his own world in WEN 2341.
Zhang said, “Wood was convinced that time is elastic, and I believe him. Time will self-heal. None of us is that important that our little lives will skew the future dramatically, not all by ourselves. Our lives are lived too small. But consider a life lived large, a life of casting a wide net of influence—.”
“What did you do to Charles Wood? The man’s a ghost. His work is nowhere. What happened?”
Zhang shrugged his shoulders. “The wrong whispered word here, passed along there. Rumors of misconduct. Funding dries up. Projects fail. Credibility fades. Life happens.”
“You set out to ruin him.”
“I did, and I’d do it again. It’s because of Charles Wood that Cloud Rez exists in the first place. A better testament to blatant privilege and self-indulgence at the expense of the masses there has never been.”
“You don’t know that! His work crosses all studies. He influenced medicine, human studies, how we think, how we learn, space travel, engineering, land reclamation, genetics, A.I.—everything. His work touched everything and now it’s gone.” Payton slowed. None of it fit. “How do we still have that Time Bore? I don’t understand.”
Zhang smiled indulgently. “That’s because that knowledge will be served up by another.”
Cursed Apprentice (Earth Survives Book 2) Page 20