by C. Martens
There Where the Power Lies
C. Henry Martens
Nokon Wood Publications
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
There Where the Power Lies ©2014 by Charles Martens
Edited by Kari Carlisle
Cover art by Misha Coutiño Richet from The Book Cover Realm
www.readmota.com
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
ISBN-13: 978-1500740580
ISBN-10: 1500740586
Chapter 1
It was the moon that woke him up. You would think that a silent orb, luminescing quietly, would leave a man to his slumbers. But no, the shattering glow pried his eyes open as surely as a midnight epiphany. The sky lightening about the sinking moon said it was time for him to leave.
The woman sleeping next to him twitched in dream-induced jerks and starts. He could not remember her name. All he cared about was that she was available on short notice. She was not coyote ugly, so at least he would not have to chew his arm off to escape. Nevertheless, he would attempt to exit without waking her. She might want to give him her number, and he had no use for it.
He rose silently, gathering his clothing and slipping on his pants. Carrying the rest to the door, he embraced the early morning.
Andy McGee made his way to the restaurant that funded his marginal lifestyle. Too early for food prep to be started, the outdoor courtyard invited his presence. Surprisingly, he was not the only person attending. A couple sat center stage as though waiting for the late morning opening and an omelet of trendy ingredients. Convenience store cappuccino in hand, he made his way to his favorite table, the one that the restaurant made available to people seeking anonymity and discretion.
Heads close together, the couple spoke in whispers now that Andy was within earshot. Andy was bleary from the late night, the many drinks, and the early hour. He laid his head on his folded arms and was soon dozing. His drink released steam that hung about his head until it cooled.
Laughter stirred him. In an attempt at regaining his nap, he refrained from moving and tried to mentally drown the sounds of the escalating volume at the center table. Soon, as the effort proved useless, Andy started to comprehend what was being discussed. He peered through his eyelashes, clandestinely, at them.
The woman finished her store-bought coffee, dropping the cup under the table as though it would be in the way by remaining on top. She was still smiling from the joke that Andy had missed.
“So, you get it now, right?” She touched the hand of the man opposite her. “You can lay off almost half of your employees right away, just as soon as the installations are complete.” She hesitated. “You’ll be making more money and cutting labor costs. Immediately.”
The man sat troubled with a furrowed brow, not because he failed to understand what she was saying, but because he did not understand what the appropriate reaction was. He could not decide whether to feel guilty over the job losses created by this deal and the loss of income for those that he already viewed as former employees, or to be elated at the huge bonus he would receive for finding such an elegant solution to the ongoing and never ending labor issues. They never got that they were driving their own demise. Their ignorance was just too bad. Without the constant bickering and demands they might have jobs for a couple more years. Now they were being replaced by robots.
“So you are sure that these machines will operate for sixty five hundred hours before they need to be refurbished? You are sure?” The man’s tone emphasized his concern.
The woman nodded in affirmation. “Of course, yes. And your cost of production drops to three dollars and forty cents per hour per unit. Even figuring in the cost of acquisition, maintenance, and energy use, your costs plummet to less than ten dollars per hour and with better precision and speed. And think of the savings in time spent in labor resolution, as well as office hours and insurance costs. These units require no income taxes to be figured for them, or health insurance, or vacation scheduling.” She smiled again. “They will free you and your corporation.”
A crooked smile played across the man’s lips. Maybe the CEO would invite him to play golf.
Andy logged the conversation into his brain under corporate types that failed in their long term thinking. Through his conversations with the father he presently hated, he knew that any reduction in labor translated to more corporate taxes to fund the necessity of welfare programs - welfare programs that kept the masses from rioting and taking what they wanted from the wealthy that complained over the programs that kept them safe. A reduction in labor also meant fewer dollars available to be spent on product for all businesses. This is the flow of money that makes an economy work. Not that corporations were at fault for making the attempt to manage their costs. Labor was driving them to it.
For some reason Andy would remember this conversation between two anonymous people that he would never know. In the next decade he would mull it over as he saw friends and relatives find it increasingly difficult to find work. Technology advanced and would fill jobs. He would have to find a field that was unlikely to be affected. The money in restaurant employment was not going to work in the long run.
He went back to sleep. His cappuccino was cold now anyway.
§
Twelve years later:
Bright colors ebbed and flowed in the new Shanghai concourse. Some savvy advertising marketer had provided new shirts in a variety of neon colors to the winners of the contest that would send each to an exotic location. The four hundred lucky prize claimants formed a huge crowd. No one questioned the numbers, even though the company promoting the contest was relatively small and the financial outlay to send them all around the world, huge.
Besides the neon shirts, resplendent with a fancy, stitched company logo, members of the group each held a goody bag provided by the sponsor. Included was a guide book pertinent to each destination, a book devoted to local languages, an itinerary for each guided tour, several complimentary toiletries, and two bottles of water. The bottles were emblazoned boldly with the company logo of the business backing the whole affair.
All of the contest winners were young, another anomaly overlooked by those attending. All were active, healthy, engaging people, and they were enjoying the anticipations of their journey. Voices competed with each other and the volume of the gathering escalated. They were awaiting departure, and had been asked to be early and stay within the group.
Hors d’oeuvres were served. Wonderful in variety and exotic flavors, they were consumed appreciatively as a prelude to expectations of what was to come in their travels. No one noticed that they were laden with salt and tended to be dry. Only a few noticed that there was nothing liquid served with the buffet.
A beautiful young woman sat eyeing the crowd as she sipped water from the bottle in her hand, one of those from her goody bag. Her ear was tuned to the conversation of the couple that would be traveling with them, even as she scanned the vast expanse. Her own companion, her husband of less than a year, sat next to her, his hand lightly on her knee. He spoke animatedly with the other man. The couples seemed well matched. Each was active physically, technologically savvy, and outgoing. Although not well educated, they were curiou
s and intelligent, sure to savor any chance to get out among people and explore. Jia Xie, going by the current fashion of anglicizing her name by using her surname last, approved. She would enjoy this trip in every way she could.
Crossing her legs, showing them off to any that cared to notice her very short skirt, she made eye contact with the serious- looking man on the balcony overlooking the gathering.
Andy gazed down at the milling crowd. There were always specific people that would hold his attention in any group, usually because they projected something ominous. But then, there were always the beautiful women, too. His vantage point in the corner of the balcony allowed him to watch both floors and the stairs, and although there were no obvious threats, he was alert as usual. The woman in the short skirt with the wonderful legs and the languid bedroom eyes stole his attention once more. She enjoyed toying with him, and he appreciated it. Security work could be so boring. He allowed her eye contact and sent his own message to her. They both knew nothing would come of it.
Soon his Arab employer would want to leave. Prince Bilal would see these human offerings off to the great journey they were destined to never return from and resist any attempt to keep him at the VIP celebration on the balcony. The Bentley would shuttle him back to his top floor suite at the luxurious hotel his family owned. The suite would afford him the best view of Shanghai, now that the awful air of the prior decade was being cleared by new technologies. His nose filters remained though. He would not take any chances.
Standing amidst a small group of the upper echelon in the room, the Prince was uncomfortable. These men considered themselves his equal, and he had to tolerate them. His uncle would be displeased if he made a scene or left early. He had been given a job which he would see through, but personally he would rather associate with his security team than these corporate nebbishes. They were unworthy of association with the lowest Arab, much less a Prince of the Royal Family. And they did not even know what was happening. The ruse was secure.
§
Late last night, under the cover of darkness and the weekend, a special run of bottled water had been made. Those doing the bottling had no idea what plan they were part of. The whole project was as compartmentalized as possible, and the labor force was only privy to the fact that they had a late night job to do in an unfamiliar factory and that they would be paid extremely well. The security alarms were disarmed by someone with the codes, a short instructional was given to those few in key positions, and soon the factory floor hummed into action. The line was slower than usual, but steady.
There was one man assigned to supply an additive to each bottle. His was a key position, the only one that had an observer, the Prince himself. Each bottle received a drop of clear liquid from an eyedropper as it moved down the line, just before being filled with a measured quantity of fluid. The finished product was stacked on a pallet as it came off the line. Then the pallet, already purposed for use in the morning at the airport celebration, was replaced with the new run of product. The operation went as planned, taking less than four hours even with inexperienced men.
§
Jia sipped her water slowly. Her husband had already finished his first bottle and was well into his second. She was glad for the water. Although she was not especially well traveled or sophisticated, she understood the effort that was made and thought the event was going well. Her natural exuberance contributed to her perception.
Suddenly, the announcement of the first boardings filled the hall. Several people stood, gathering their carry-on bags. Her husband rose, extending his hand to her. She gripped it lightly and rose as well, once again showing off her legs as best she could. Glancing up, she noticed that her pseudo paramour was properly appreciative. Her world was about to expand and she relished this opportunity. She would remember the man on the balcony and his attention for as long as she lived. The long trip she was on would be her last, and she would not return to China. The child she carried and had no inkling of yet would never be born.
Noticing where Andy was looking, Prince Bilal understood his interest. One of the privileges of his position in life was that he could command beauty. Few could. But great wealth brought great power, and the Prince felt entitled to all that his hands could touch. Opulence was the style of the Royal Family, and he indulged himself fully. This included women. The suite in the hotel was being outfitted with them even as he recognized that his task here was done. The women would be spectacular, and he would use them as he saw fit. Then he would discard them with little regard.
The Royal Family thought little of women, even amongst themselves. This included his own mother. She understood that the male line was the only importance in the dynasty.
Bringing his wrist to his mouth, Andy commanded the Bentley to be positioned for departure. He read the Prince without words, a skill he had acquired over time. The Prince was an easy read, clearly selfish and indulgent. The few times that the Prince had an open chair at his poker games, he would invite Andy to sit in. Using the Prince’s money, Andy had to be careful to lose without being obvious. Bilal wanted to win against tough competition. Winning bolstered his ego. So Andy would usually take everyone else’s money at the table and manage to lose to the Prince in big hands. It aggravated him, but a job was a job.
The immense grey Bentley was one of the few vehicles on the road that still used gasoline exclusively. Certainly the only one within miles that was practically new. Only older vehicles used internal combustion engines anymore, except those owned by people that had no concept of what liquid fuels cost.
Andy opened and held the door for the following Prince. He would be the privileged security man that sat within the Royal’s presence, sharing the compartment with Bilal. The other two security detail would be driving and in the front seat. Andy had earned his position in the Royal compartment by taking a bullet intended for the Prince’s uncle. He had been on loan to King Omar from Prince Bilal at the time. The King was short on security.
The assassination attempt had been an internal family affair. Andy killed the hired gun, hot, expanding lead tearing through the length of his left arm as he spun and took the bullet. There was no interrogation possible, but the family knew who had hired the killer. Assassination within the family was common enough.
Andy was granted a large cash award. The medical facilities of the Royal Family were put at his disposal as well. Even though some of the doctors felt it was beneath them to repair a person of non-royal descent, they worked on him diligently. It was good practice if nothing else.
If Andy had been capable of working right away, the King would have requested him to become part of his own security team, but by the time Andy’s arm was amputated and replaced with a fully capable prosthetic and allowed to heal and be trained to respond properly, the King had forgotten any debt that he felt he owed. Andy returned to the Prince’s detail and became more valuable. The arm proved to be no hindrance. In fact it was a benefit. It was fully capable of replacing what was lost and was stronger than his organic arm. He could punch through walls with it. One of the benefits it afforded was an expanding shield housed within its matrix. Now he would have something other than a vest to deflect bullets. The appendage was not the only cybernetic advancement that went with his job. The implant behind his right ear maintained contact with his detail at all times, as well as making the web available. The implant was popular among most techies and could be obtained with a minor outpatient operation.
Prince Bilal showed his appreciation for Andy. Until the attempt on the King’s life, Andy had been an invisible member of the team. Andy’s preference was to keep a low profile, but the shooting proved to be his undoing. Now he was the Prince’s favorite.
Prince Bilal went shopping, personally. Being impressed with all things technological and fancying himself an expert in the field, he chose a pistol explained as the latest in weaponry. It was a well-made piece, from a respected manufacturer of high end armaments. This one was intended to be used by only
one person, the grip tuned to the owner’s own hand. The firearm could not be discharged by anyone else. In keeping with his thought processes, Bilal took the pistol to a man that supplied trinkets to the Royal Family. He had it encrusted with jewels and fancy scrollwork. The weapon became a gaudy expression of over indulgence. When the Prince presented it, Andy hesitated to accept. Bilal attributed it to politeness, or maybe even a proper amazement at the Prince’s magnanimity, but in truth Andy was appalled. He knew immediately that he would never use the weapon. The jewels were bad enough, but the single user feature was deadly. Although there were wonderful advances in solar and medical and materials sciences, no one had improved on the hand gun as a delivery system for sudden death. Sometimes new technology was not good technology. No one in security would ever carry a weapon that could not be used with either hand or offered to a comrade.
Now the gun sat unused in a safe that Andy owned. He would have liked to sell it, but as long as the Prince employed him, he knew he could not. Once in a while the Prince hinted that he would like to be challenged in target practice, and Andy should use his gift. So far Andy had managed to duck Bilal’s overtures. It would be a no win scenario for Andy. The Prince would want to win. If the Prince lost he would be angry, and if the Prince won it would be because Andy missed what he should have been able to hit. There was no good outcome for Andy as far as he could see. Andy thought about the pistol as the Bentley moved through heavy traffic.
He was trying to avoid thinking about what the Prince would be doing soon. Bilal’s appetites for women and the way he treated them sickened Andy. After maturing over the past decade, Andy had many regrets about his treatment of women in his early years. He no longer approached women as one night stands, which meant he had few relationships. Now he appreciated loyalty and gave the same in return. But it was difficult with his schedule of one month on and one month off.