In Icarus' Shadow
Page 30
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A wall-sized television screen blinked through channels as its owner idly toyed with the remote; glancing to a few papers on the table supporting his feet, he vaguely remembered something about there having been trouble with a company in downtown Ottawa. Letting the vague recollection blossom into curiosity, he settled on CTV news as his choice of entertainment. Watching the stories he cared nothing for did not interest him, so he took a moment to relieve himself. Collected a bottle of water on his way back, he settled back onto the enormous, velvet-soft sofa he had been reclining on; the piece of furniture could seat at least eight people comfortably, or so the sales tag had said when it was delivered.
Setting his glass bottle down on his coffee table, a hand-carved piece depicting a different animal on each leg, he made himself comfortable. Observing that the news was still prattling on about speeding tickets and traffic accidents, he ran a hand idly over the table leg nearest him, appreciating the smooth feel of the wood and the cool kiss of diamonds as his hand reached the gemstones said animals had for eyes. Glancing back up, he saw the story he wanted previewed on-screen and turned the volume up so as to actually hear it.
"The ongoing legal saga of lawyers acting on behalf of Tyrone Burgess, the security chief of Icarus Development Incorporated, continued today. After more than a week of attempting to get Mr. Burgess to appear in court, the Chief of the Ottawa Police Department, Daniel Roman, has settled on a compromise; his officers are to be allowed to search Burgess' home, currently listed as a motel in downtown Ottawa, without interference. Should they find evidence of any wrongdoing, Burgess will have to appear in court as normal, but if the search goes unrewarded, the case will be dropped. Critics of the case have expressed mixed opinions, some against the compromise and others for, with the most common argument being that the case is slowing the justice system's ability to handle other cases. This is CTV News, thank you for watching."
Chuckling softly to himself, he reached over the arm of the couch to pick up his phone. Turning it on without dialling, he held it up to his ear; his personal aide, a lovely young thing whose name escaped him, answered immediately.
"Yes Sir?"
He smiled at the tone of her voice. It was professional, with just the tiniest bit of hope; he loved that about the staff he kept. "Connect me with Giselle Fitch."
Her tone had just the right note of jealousy to it as she spoke again, bringing a wider smile to his face. "Yes, Sir. Shall I send the customary bucket of ice with your choice of drink for the evening?"
Deciding to reassure instead of tease, he spoke soothingly. "It's a business call today, but I'll tell you what; if you bring the bucket yourself in about half an hour, I'll share some with you."
"Oh, yes Sir. Connecting you now, Sir."
He grinned, imagining the smile on her face from the sound of her voice. "Don't be late."
It was Fitch's voice that replied to this last flirt, however. "Late? Hello?"
He frowned slightly, realizing he had been connected faster than he had wanted. Perhaps he would scold his aide for it when she arrived; that could be an amusing diversion. Shrugging, he sat up to talk. "Yes, hello, Miss Fitch."
"Oh, hello, Sir. It's an honour to speak with you directly."
His mood was restored instantly at her response. He did so enjoy people's change in attitude when they realized who was on the other end. "Yes, yes, very good. Let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we? I saw the news for your area, might I offer your legal team my congratulations on their success. I'm sure whatever evidence there may be on Tyrone has been taken care of already?"
"Oh, yes Sir. Tyrone, that is, Mr. Burgess dealt with it himself yesterday."
He nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent. Might I also say that I am pleased with how you handled the incident with those intruders. Keeping the public ignorant about things they needn't know is a skill I can appreciate."
She didn't seem overly proud of this particular skill, but was nevertheless relieved to hear he wasn't in any way upset with her. "I'm glad you approve, Sir."
He was about to remark upon the almost palpable relief in her voice when something on the television screen caught his attention. In between reports, a spare stage light had fallen across the camera's field of vision; this in itself did not concern him, aside from making him wonder why it was not edited out of the final copy. What had seized his attention was the piece of cardboard attached to the equipment. Seizing the remote, he rewound the image, pausing with the cardboard centre-screen. Zooming in, he frowned as he saw what it said; 'Orion - 30/04/2012 - 1300 Black.'
"Sir?"
Remembering the phone was still at his ear, he turned the television off. "Apologies, Miss Fitch. Something came up; you have my full attention now."
"Oh, that's quite all right, Sir."
"I'm glad. Now then; I want you to keep me completely up to date with all goings on in your city. If you are made aware of anything odd happening, I want to know about it. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Sir, of course. Has something happened?"
He felt his smile become more of a sneer. "No. I simply want to be certain that the mice who attempted to sneak into your building are dealt with should they try again."
"Understood, Sir."
Hanging up, he turned the television back on, frowning at the still-paused image of the cardboard. Shaking his head, he glanced at the clock and saw he had a little over twenty minutes before his aide arrived; thirty minutes later, the peculiar message was the last thing on his mind.