Megatooth: A Deep Sea Thriller
Page 14
“Same decision?”
“Software engineer. It’s what I’m meant to do,” Powell said.
Brunson laughed. “You think telling me what I want to hear, is what I want to hear.”
Powell offered up a thin smile. “I’m really not sure what is going on, sir. And I’ll admit, I’m a little apprehensive.”
“Apprehensive? Louis, you have no reason to be. Trust me.” Brunson nodded at Ms. Warwick.
She reached into her briefcase.
“Do you know what this is, Mr. Powell?”
Louis. Mr. Powell. The boss was all over the place. It caught him off guard.
Ms. Warwick produced a blue velvet cloth. She unwrapped it. A rock was inside. She set it down on the table.
Powell pointed at it. “May I?”
He pulled the rock close. He turned it over in his hands, and looked at it closely.
“Do you know what it is?” Brunson said, again.
Powell set the rock down on the velvet. “It looks like coal, the dull, black part embedded in the rest of the sediment.” He ran a finger over it, looked at his finger tip. “But I don’t think it is. I’m not sure what it is.”
“It’s your paycheck, Mr. Powell.” Brunson said. “It is our paycheck. The black rock in there is coltan.”
Coltan. He should have known. He picked up the rock again and studied it more closely. “I’ve never seen it in raw form like this before. It’s a dull, metallic ore.”
“You know something about it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me what you know,” Brunson said.
“Well, I know that it is often referred to as the blood diamond of the technology world. It looks just like gravel, which was why I said coal. Only because, I guess I couldn’t see you calling me up here to show me a piece of gravel.” Powell set the rock down again. “The parts of this metallic ore are used in circuit boards, cell phones, video game consoles, e-readers, missiles, jet engines…”
Brunson sat forward, his arms on the table. “Exactly. It’s used in capacitors, and tiny components that are essential in managing the flow of current in just about any and every electronic device that exists. The bigger question is, do you know what it is worth?”
Powell shook his head. “I don’t.”
Brunson dropped a finger on a corner of velvet and slid the rock over. “The Tantalite, and Niobium content, as well as radioactive levels are what is looked at when it comes to pricing.”
“Radioactive?”
“This particular piece has low, low radioactive levels. No worries,” the boss said.
Powell was worried. He absently rubbed his palms over his suit pants. “I see,” he said.
“A thousand a pound. If we’re lucky. We pay one thousand dollars for every pound of coltan delivered. Do you know how many pounds of coltan we purchase a year? A month?”
Powell shrugged, and arched his eyebrows. “I don’t, sir.”
“A lot. Astronomical amounts. If Circuitz was a person, this ore is the lifeblood,” he said, holding the rock up as a prop.
Powell was at a loss. He still had no idea why he was here. The only lines he could draw were his degree in geology, and the fact the company used coltan. He kept his mouth shut, and waited.
“We want to promote you, Louis. We want to make you a project manager. How many people do you supervise currently?”
“Seventeen,” Powell said, without hesitation. He knew his staff as well as he knew most of his family. They were also equally as dysfunctional. Like family, though, they were his.
“Wonderful. Wonderful,” Brunson said. “Ms. Warwick has the legal documents for you to look over and sign. There is a fifteen percent raise involved, if that is acceptable?”
“Ah, fifteen percent? Yes. Fifteen percent is acceptable,” Powell said, running numbers inside his head. What clogged the thought process was legal. He’d signed confidentiality and non-compete clauses when hired. He knew what was expected of him as an employee.
“That’s what I hoped to hear.”
“And the legal documents?” Powell pointed at Ms. Warwick.
“We have an additional life policy form, compensation package, and enhanced confidentiality releases that require your signature,” Ms. Warwick said, she stood up and walked over. She set a manila folder down in front of him. There were pages and pages of contracts, and supporting documentation. Sticky arrows were affixed anywhere his signature or initials were needed.
“What is the project?” Powell said, his eyes blurred looking over the paperwork. He couldn’t concentrate on reading what was in front of him with Brunson staring.
“You are going to be in charge of our coltan supply,” Brunson said.
In charge of the coltan supply? Could the geology degree really be paying off? His father would never believe this. “In charge of it, sir?”
“We know you are not married.”
“I’m not.”
“No kids.”
“True.”
“And your parents are retired and living in Florida.”
It was kind of creepy. “You are right,” Powell said.
“Based on everything, we believe you are the best company candidate for the project manager position. I mean if you aren’t interested, we can go to the next person on the list,” Brunson said.
They had a list? “I’m interested. I am,” he said, picked up a pen and started signing and initialing as Ms. Warwick turned pages and pointed.
Brunson stood up. “Congratulations, Mr. Powell. I’m excited to have you on the team.”
They shook hands. He excused himself, leaving Louis alone with the attorney.
Powell stopped when he noticed forms on traveling and Visa application. “Work Visa? Am I going somewhere?”
“We don’t mine for coltan in Pittsburgh, Mr. Powell,” Betty Warwick said.
“So, ah, where am I headed?”
“To where the coltan is,” she said. “Sign here.”
He signed. “Like a process factory? Where is it, Mexico? China?”
“You’re not going to a factory, Mr. Powell. You are going where the ore is mined.”
Where it is mined? “I don’t know where it’s mined from. Where am I going?”
He took the papers from the attorney and flipped through the pages, scanning them more closely. He saw his destination just as the lawyer explained.
“You have agreed to go to central Africa, Mr. Powell. For three months. You will be stationed in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.”
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