by H. R. Moore
‘I thought they’d all been replaced by artificial intelligence,’ said Sabrina, her tone vacant and disinterested, as she looked Thomas up and down.
‘Most of us have,’ said Thomas, with an easy smile, reaching over and offering her his hand. She remained seated, but gripped it with a force he hadn’t been expecting. ‘They had to leave some of us behind to make strategic decisions, like when to implement upgraded robots,’ he laughed. She didn’t. Instead, her features remained steadfast as she carefully appraised him.
After her initial reception, and knowing that her father paid her and her opinion absolutely no mind whatsoever, Thomas resolved to behave in classic gentlemanly fashion. He was perfectly charming, but there was nothing warm in the way he interacted with her. He gave her staged, stock answers, building a polite, superficial wall between them so she wouldn’t find out too much about him, nor really get to know him. In his mind, this was a one-time encounter, which he just had to get through, with as little drama as possible.
* * * * *
Thomas looked the part, spoke well, had an air of confidence about him like all the other people she socialised with, but there was something off-kilter that Sabrina couldn’t quite put her finger on. Although he was good looking, she had to give him that much.
Sabrina was a party girl and always had been. Her main focus in life was to find a man to marry who was as wealthy as her father, and could therefore keep her in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. The rules about inheritance broke her heart; they were just so unfair. As such, her study of Thomas was more than just frivolous. If he was in the running to take over the company, and her father wouldn’t be playing tennis with him otherwise, then maybe he would be a good one to bag. She resolved to be at least a little nice to him until she’d worked him out.
Richard returned, and they ate a lavish meal featuring real meat, from real cows, sheep and chickens, instead of the kind grown in labs, accompanied by expensive English wine, paired to match each course. They’d had the tasting menu; a delicious feast of beef carpaccio, chicken liver pate, sea bass, lamb cutlets and crème brulee, and Richard was just suggesting they order a cheese board when Sabrina put an end to the evening.
‘Daddy, I’ve got places to be, I’m afraid. You were late for dinner, after all, and now I’m going to be late meeting Gabriel, so I really must go.’
‘Gabriel?’ spat Richard. ‘Who is Gabriel?’
‘A friend,’ said Sabrina, maliciously, knowing nothing would wind up her father more than withholding information.
‘Not Gabriel Smith?’ asked Thomas, his eyes flashing with interest.
Sabrina raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe,’ she replied, ‘but then again, maybe not.’
‘Oh, fine,’ said Richard, getting up and kissing her on the cheek before heading to the restroom. ‘Play your games,’ he said, as he walked away.
‘Gabriel’s radical,’ said Thomas, getting up to kiss Sabrina on the cheek too. ‘He might just be using you to get to your father. You should really be careful.’
‘My God,’ said Sabrina, looking up at Thomas, her sky-high stilettos still leaving her a good head shorter than him, ‘you’re just like him.’
‘Gabriel?’
‘Daddy,’ she said, picking up her clutch bag and wrap. She paused, studying him. ‘You’re the one Guy called in a favour for, aren’t you?’ The pleasing shock on Thomas’ face confirmed it.
‘You know Guy?’ asked Thomas.
‘We grew up together. Maybe Gabriel isn’t the one we all need to be careful of,’ she said, with contempt, before sauntering away.
* * * * *
The café was closed. It had been a long, busy day, and the owner, Fabio, was just closing the door to lock up when Guy walked up behind him. ‘Fab,’ he said, putting an arm around his shoulders. ‘Any chance of a favour?’ he asked, in his most imploring tone.
Fabio huffed. ‘Guy,’ he said, removing his hand from the locking sensor, ‘if it were anyone else, I’d tell them to get lost; it’s been a long day. But, seeing as it’s you,’ he said, pushing open the door, ‘in you go.’ Fabio stood back to let Guy past.
‘But I’m not hanging around, I’m afraid,’ he said, as he pushed some buttons on the locking sensor. ‘Hand,’ he said to Guy, indicating he should put his hand on the sensor, which would record both his hand print and the signature of the tiny chip beneath the skin of his palm. ‘Just lock up when you leave. You know how the bots work if you want anything to eat or drink. Try not to trash the place.’
Fabio departed and Guy went upstairs, to the cosy seating area filled with a mismatched array of sofas and beaten-up old wooden tables and chairs. The café was small, its main purpose to offer lunchtime takeaways for the staff of the corporate headquarters situated all around. Fabio did a roaring trade in anything fried or sugary, and as a result, his cake selection was out of this world. The canteens in the office buildings had a mouth-watering array of delicious, free food, but it was always as healthy as could be. Sometimes the workers needed an indulgence.
The café was just around the corner from Guy’s head office, and the offices of all the others he was meeting with tonight. He’d been coming here since his first week in the corporate world, and had hit it off with Fabio immediately. He helped himself to a slice of millionaire’s shortbread, his favourite, got a robot to make him a coffee, and sat down to wait for the others.
They turned up shortly afterwards: Thomas, Benji, Melissa Clark, and Suzie Lee, each of them confused as to why they’d been called together at such short notice. Guy offered them refreshment, but they irritably refused.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Melissa, exhibiting her usual, no-nonsense, get to the point approach, and still smarting at the way he’d spoken to her at the gallery.
‘We’re going to have to slip the timelines a bit,’ said Guy. ‘With the investigation, we can’t get away with any work over the cap, which means the work that can take place on our project is limited.’
‘But transport’s in place,’ said Suzie, this her area of expertise.
‘And I’m sorry, but it’s going to have to be rearranged,’ Guy replied calmly.
‘Do they know about the project?’ asked Melissa.
‘No,’ said Guy. ‘All they know is that there’s something suspicious about the number of hours people in the Exeter factory were working. We stopped the extra hours at the other factories, so the raids on those didn’t come up with anything.’
‘What about the storage facility?’ asked Suzie.
‘They tried to get into it,’ said Guy, ‘but, given its top-secret location, they weren’t granted access. However, I’m not taking any chances, so Benji’s just completed a relocation of the robots. If and when Iva successfully gains access to the Plymouth facility, she won’t find anything there.’
‘Where are they now?’ asked Thomas, chipping in for the first time.
‘The less people who know that, the better,’ said Guy evenly. ‘You understand?’
‘Of course,’ replied Thomas. ‘But you’re sure they’re safe?’
‘As sure as I can be. And Benji’s always very thorough.’
Benji inclined his head in a “well yes, obviously” sort of way.
‘The upshot of all of this,’ said Guy, ‘is that we’re going to have to delay the shipment.’ Melissa and Suzie shook their heads in frustration. ‘Unless anyone else can volunteer alternative facilities in which to make the robots?’ he added, a little tetchiness creeping into his tone. ‘Or shipping arrangements which don’t use my company’s credentials?’
‘No,’ said Melissa, reluctantly. ‘How long do you think the delay will be?’
‘The same length as the investigation,’ he said. ‘We might be able to make up a bit of time, but we were already pushing production to the max. And I don’t want there to be any obviously suspicious activity straight after it’s over, as all that will do is put me back in Iva’s firing line and cause further delays.�
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A sudden noise from downstairs made them all jump. The door banged open and multiple pairs of heavy footsteps thudded into the café. ‘You’re all under arrest,’ said a short, stocky man dressed all in black, appearing at the top of the stairs. ‘Please come with me,’ he said, gesturing to where two more men waited.
Guy frowned. ‘This is very dramatic,’ he said, standing. ‘We’re in the middle of a catch-up. Could you tell me what this is about, please?’
‘I’m not paid enough to know the details,’ said the man, ‘now please come with us.’
While Guy stalled, Benji put on his smart glasses and called their lawyer, Francesca Miller. Francesca was now watching, in close detail, every move they all made.
‘Loudspeaker please, Benji,’ she said, full of authority. Benji obliged.
‘For what reason are you arresting these people?’ asked Francesca, in her confident lawyer voice.
‘As I said,’ the man replied, going red in the face, ‘my boss has all the details. She’s downstairs.’
‘Then I suggest you go and tell your boss, Iva Brooksbank, I assume, to come and speak with me. My clients will not be going anywhere with you, at the very least, until that has happened.’
The man turned and trudged back down the stairs, telling his men to stay behind. He returned a few minutes later, looking berated, with a furious Iva.
‘Ah, Iva,’ said Francesca, in her most condescending tone. ‘Good to see you. Now, for what possible reason are you planning to make this arrest?’
‘I don’t have to disclose my reasons at this stage.’
‘No. But if you’re not planning to disclose, then show me your warrant.’
Iva bristled. ‘These people are colluding,’ she said, ‘planning to create ways to allow people to work over the hours cap.’
‘That is quite a claim,’ said Francesca, apparently unworried. ‘What proof do you have of these accusations?’
‘That these five are together at all is suspicious, given their backgrounds campaigning for political change...’
‘...freedom of speech and open democratic challenge are no longer allowed?’ inquired Francesca, interrupting her.
‘And we found people working over their allowed hours at one of Guy’s factories.’
‘We’re in the process of providing you with the evidence to explain that,’ said Francesca, ‘so, unless you have something more substantial, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave my clients alone. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to sue you for harassment and abuse of power.’
Iva spun around and stormed out without another word, taking her goons with her.
* * * * *
Benji projected Francesca onto the wall when Iva was safely out of earshot. ‘She never expected to be able to hold you for long,’ said Francesca. ‘She knew she didn’t have anything legitimate, but was planning to put you in a cell and intimidate you, hoping one of you would break and rat on the others. It’s worked for her before.’
‘Well done, Benji,’ said Guy. ‘Quick thinking.’
‘My forte,’ joked Benji, feeling elated.
‘She’ll almost certainly keep tabs on all of you until this is over,’ said Francesca, ‘so don’t go anywhere or do anything incriminating. The best thing you can do is lie low and go about your normal lives for the moment, and forget about any special projects. You can all thank your lucky stars we still have robust privacy laws in this country, but if she gets anything on any of you, you’re all at risk of having your devices tapped. And not only that, she’ll also be allowed to use tech to listen to your conversations wherever you go. If she’d had that power tonight, think about what she would have heard.’
‘Okay,’ said Melissa, taking a deep breath, ‘we get it. Model citizens until this is over.’
‘Like we always are, of course,’ said Suzie with a grin.
* * * * *
Everyone left, apart from Benji and Guy, who helped themselves to whiskey from Fabio’s secret stash in the kitchen.
‘There must have been an informant,’ said Guy, ‘unless she’s tailing me twenty-four-seven, and I don’t think she is; my tech would have picked it up by now.’
‘But who knew about the meeting?’ asked Benji. ‘Aside from the five of us here tonight, and Francesca. And they would’ve had to know about the overtime in Exeter as well.’
‘Assuming there was an informant behind the raid in Exeter, and if so, that there’s only one informant,’ said Guy, worried. ‘It would have been difficult to find out about the meeting tonight, but loads of people know about the overtime; some of them must be suspicious about the robots they make. Anyone who’s labelled them up to go to a different location to all the others. Anyone who knows the software’s different. Anyone who’s overheard any of those people talking. Anyone whom Melissa or Suzie have had to bring on board to arrange delivery and distribution and authorisation. And if the tip-off came from one of Suzie or Melissa’s people, or if Thomas has made a slip-up with the money, one of them could have been followed here tonight.’
‘The net’s wide then,’ said Benji, taking a careful sip of his whiskey. ‘Is there anyone with a grudge against you?’
‘This list is long,’ laughed Guy.
‘Oh, come on,’ said Benji, ‘it can’t be that long.’
‘Plenty of people that work in the factories are resentful of my lifestyle, wealth, lack of working hours restrictions. A number of them have made their views public when I’ve visited. Then there are senior managers who think they deserve my job, and leaders of other companies who want to take me down to prove they’re better than me, Richard for one. He’s got a real bee in his bonnet about the success I’ve had at my age.’
‘After everything Richard’s just been through with Iva, I can’t imagine him helping her.’
‘Unless helping Iva bag other big names was one of the conditions for him to keep his company.’
‘Maybe,’ replied Benji, mulling it over, ‘but it seems unlikely. Is there anyone who stands out? I get that the factory workers are generally disgruntled and want you to know it, but is there anyone particularly fervent?’
Guy thought about it. ‘No one that springs to mind,’ he eventually replied. ‘But, given the first tip-off was about the Exeter factory, maybe it was someone there. I’ll ask Thomas’ parents to see if they’ve heard anything and you start putting feelers out, Benji. See what you can find.’
* * * * *
‘You were supposed to make sure that didn’t happen,’ said Iva, furious, when they got outside. ‘I wanted to at least get them as far as a prison cell for the night.’
Iva stormed down the street, stalking away from the three idiots who’d screwed up so profoundly. She couldn’t bear the confines of a car right now, nor the tense silence that would poison the inside, the men throwing nervous glances between themselves as they tried to avoid her attention.
She was angry: angry with herself, angry with the men, angry with Guy fucking Strathclyde and his smug compatriots, but more than anything, angry that after all this time, the loss of him still drove her. She pushed her way into a swanky wine bar at the end of the street, one of the few where humans still did all the front-of-house work, placed her palm on the scanner by the door so it could read her chip, then made for the bar, where she ordered a large glass of red wine. The human employees made it expensive, not that she cared. She accepted her drink, for which she would be automatically charged, thanks to the scanner by the door and surveillance cameras hidden around the place. She took a mouthful, washing the ruby liquid around her mouth, savouring the harsh flavour, before swallowing hard, willing it to begin numbing her pain.
She sat in silence for minutes, nothing in her mind except pure, unadulterated rage. The barstool next to her scraped across the floor and someone sat themselves upon it, leaning into the smooth wood of the bar as they ordered a vodka and tonic in a voice she recognised. She didn’t bother turning her head. ‘What do you want?’ she as
ked, taking another mouthful of wine.
‘I came to see if you’re okay,’ said Rebecca Archer, the defence minister.
‘Of course I am,’ replied Iva, although her tone gave away she was anything but. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Because today would have been James’ birthday. It makes me sad, nostalgic, so I can’t begin to imagine how you feel.’ Iva sat in silence, staring ahead, so Rebecca continued. ‘I was having dinner with Francesca Miller when Benji’s call came in. I heard some of it before she moved away from the table. I thought you might need a friend.’
‘We’re not friends,’ said Iva. Her voice not cold, but matter of fact.
‘We could be,’ said Rebecca. ‘We once were.’
‘In a different world. Now you’re a fully paid-up one of them.’
‘One of who?’ Rebecca shot back.
‘Never mind,’ said Iva, making to leave. ‘They’ll continue to break the rules regardless.’
‘What rules?’ asked Rebecca, a frown of annoyed confusion across her forehead, halting Iva as she made for the door.
‘What I did today was reckless and unplanned, but I ordered it anyway, because I’ve lost the will to care. They took away my life, my whole life, and James’ family took their blood money. You know I had enough evidence to bring them down back then, but his family said I’d be trampling across his memory if I pursued it. And like an idiot, I went along with what his parents wanted. James was probably turning in his grave, probably has been ever since. Well, enough is enough; someone has to pay.’
Iva stormed out, leaving behind a dark and dreadful silence.