Carson Evolved Ch. 12

Akari Eto, he read on her desk nameplate. Pretty name. Walking towards her, he couldn't help but appreciate her form. Though she was sitting down, he could see that she was tall for a woman. He seemed to recall her as being an inch or two taller than her boss, maybe 5'9" or 5'10". He realized that the reason she'd seemed masculine was that her rugged jaw fed right into a relatively muscular body. Her white silk shirt had a spread collar, which was necessary to accommodate her neck. Over the shirt, she had a light grey pantsuit with tiny white pinstripes.

Just as he reached her desk, she ended her call. She smiled at him, though it didn't seem to reach her eyes. Her eyes appraised him dully, as if assessing his threat potential. It was the final piece that pushed Carson to realize that she was as much 'personal security' as 'personal assistant.'

He said, "I'm Carson Jayne. The Director asked me to stop by."

"I know who you are, Mr. Jayne. The Director asked me to show you in as soon as you arrived. This way please." She led him through what looked to be an open-concept conference room/brainstorming area. Electronic white boards were mounted on mobile stations at each end of the giant square of tables. They passed a few other areas that made Carson wonder what exactly went on in this office. There were small groups of people working at a few stations, but he couldn't see what they were laboring on. Finally, they reached an 'office,' though it wasn't one like Carson had ever seen.

In the first place, there was no wall on the fourth side of the room, where Carson and Akari were standing. Looking closer, he saw the same sort of equipment framing the opening that he had in his own office's doorway and realized that the entire wall was a nanite forcefield. It was really cool and astronomically expensive. Definitely some shack value here.

Akari cleared her throat to get the occupant's attention. "Director? Mr. Jayne is here to see you."

The Director looked up from his work. "Hmm? Oh, Carson! Come in, come in," he waved without rising. Carson found a seat but declined the offered drink. He settled in and studied the Director as he finished what he was working on. Director Sinclair was early 50s in age by Carson's estimation. White, with maybe a touch of Spanish blood in him. His hair had gone mostly silver, and he wore it swept back, which exposed a mild Widow's peak in his receding hairline. His eyes were blue gray, hidden behind old-fashioned burgundy, round, horn-rimmed glasses.

"Aaaand...done!" he said, signing with a flourish. He put his work to the side. "Sorry about that. Last minute changes. It never seems to stop up here." He sat back and looked at the younger man. "You're probably wondering why, after all this time, I wanted to meet with you personally."

Carson nodded. "The question had crossed my mind, Director. I..."

"Ramsay, please," he interrupted gregariously. Before Carson could continue, though, he held up a finger and said, "Hold that thought." He pressed a button, and from the hum, Carson assumed that the forcefield was now up.

The man sat back down. "Again, apologies. But this needs to stay between us."

"Okay. I was just going to say that I haven't had the privilege to visit with you before, Dire...Ramsay."

The man's eyes twinkled. "'Privilege' you say. The first time I met my predecessor, it felt like being called into the principal's office at school. This is nothing like that, I assure you."

Carson didn't know what to say, and so he didn't say anything in reply.

Ramsay got up and began to pace. "I called you in today because I think my life may be in danger."

Alarmed, Carson looked at him. "Surely you don't think that I am a threat to you."

The man stopped and looked at him in surprise. "A threat? No, of course not. If there's anyone on the council I feel like I could trust, it's you."

"Oh. Well, that's a relief," he replied before pausing. "What makes you think that your life is in danger?"

The Director was standing looking out into the storm. Without turning around, he said, "It all seems so simple, when you first set out in the project. Have a lot of sex, have a bunch of babies, change the world. No one really talks about what happens after the kids are born, though."

"What do you mean?" Carson asked.

Ramsay turned and looked at him. "Think about it. We have lots and lots of very smart, very intelligent, very wealthy individuals born each year. But without influence or position, they can't really make a mark on the world, can they? So they grow up as human poker chips, bartered and traded back and forth to forge this alliance or that one. 'My son needs a job; I'll hire your daughter in exchange.' 'My daughter would look good at your board meeting. How much would it cost me to get her a seat?'" He shook his head in disgust. It's the same old story of human greed and selfishness overriding the greater good."

Carson was growing increasingly nervous. He'd had misgivings, of course, but he hadn't considered that the problem might be worse than he'd imagined.

The Director was on a roll, though, and didn't notice his failure to comment. "You don't get to my position without learning to play the game, Carson. You make deals to get along, you agree to things that you can rationalize have some project benefit, just to try and make a difference in the world. The problem is, if you make a deal with the Devil, eventually he'll come to collect."

At a loss at to how to negotiate this conversation and feeling the chill of the Director's words sinking in, Carson finally managed to ask a pertinent question. "Has someone made a threat against you?"

The other man actually chuckled. "No, nothing so obvious. It's the implied threat, always." He maneuvered around and collapsed back into his chair. Sighing, he continued, "I know things, Carson. Things about certain...activities...that certain parties have undertaken. Not all of it, and I didn't know before things got rolling. But...I know.

"I expect that eventually, someone will find a connection of some sort between me and Lund and trace it. If that happens, I will answer their questions to the best of my ability. That makes me a loose end to be handled, Carson."

"Have you thought of turning yourself in to the police? Entering witness protection or something?"

He shook his head. "Orriri has a long reach, longer than you'd believe. If someone wanted to do me harm, being in the system is about the last place I'd want to be. I could try to disappear, I guess. But I'm 57 years old, and I feel like I'm a hundred." He looked into the younger man's eyes. "I'm tired of doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. And I don't know if I have it in me to start over somewhere else."

The mood of the room was definitely somber. The two men shared an uncomfortable silence, the room brightening occasionally when a flash of lightning tore through the sky.

Carson felt for the man. The idealism of youth can sometimes be confronted by harsher realities of how the world works. The temptation is to do what you have to in order to gain a little ground. But you don't always realize when you're doing it, how those ties really do bind. Quietly, he asked, "Why now, and why me?"

Ramsay looked at him and smiled. "Believe it or not, I never really wanted to be Director. I was kind of like you, in a way. I grew up in the project, but I never had the courage to approach any of the girls my age." Shaking his head ruefully, he said, "My first social was a complete disaster. I didn't get one contact. My older brother laughed so hard that night. But afterwards, he kind of took me under his wing and taught me how to talk to girls. He must have been a good teacher, because it wasn't long before I had quite a following. Like someone else I could mention," he added.

"It was maybe ten years after that when, quite unexpectedly, my predecessor died when his hovercraft malfunctioned. It was ruled an accident at the time, but...let's just say that since then, I've begun to question that. Anyway, while I wasn't looking for the position, there were only a couple of people who met the criteria under our bylaws. Somehow, this young, inexperienced...kid, was made the director of a secret organization with the goal to change society.

"I had lots of good ideas, and I was a wheeler and dealer to get what I wanted. Jozef and Helga's husband, Matthias, were behind my ascension, I'm sure of it now. They used their influence with other members to help me get things moving. And for such a small price!" he spat, disgustedly. "A favor here, a nudge there...nothing to counteract our goals, of course, I wouldn't have gone for that. Just using my office to get things that benefitted them at least as much as it benefitted the project."

Carson nodded in sympathy. "From the sound of it, you have the lay of the things right. They probably supported you because they thought you could be manipulated into doing what they wanted." He scooted forward in his seat and looked the Director in the eye. "What is you're asking of me?"

Ramsay didn't answer for a moment. Then, he stood and moved towards one of the wall-mounted monitors. "What do you think of the remodeling? They just finished a few weeks ago."

"It's nice, Ramsay. It sets just the right tone between power and warmth."

As Carson watched, Ramsay pressed something on the wall and an entire section of the wall slid away, revealing a reinforced closet or safe of some sort. "I pushed to have this installed. It wasn't put on the drawings, it's not on any plans, anywhere."

"Why's that?"

"Because of this." Ramsay turned and held up one of the smallest optical drives that Carson had ever seen. "van Heuval and his cronies have been using me for years, and I stupidly, blindly went along for quite a while. But, when I began to suspect, I started looking back at what I'd done. And it sickened me. So, I started gathering evidence. Copies of contracts, records of communications, Orriri expenditures on their behalf...anything I could find that I thought would lead an investigator to their door. Inside this room are the hard copies and portable drives I've used to store my evidence. But I have copies of everything on this."

He closed the secret vault and walked over to where Carson was sitting. He placed the drive in his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Orriri is sick, Carson. It's decaying from the inside, and I have a part in that." He straightened and moved back to take his seat. "When the pieces begin to fall, when the heads begin to roll, Carson...it will be time for the project to take its medicine and cut out the cancer. But Orriri will also need a doctor to bring them back to health. That doctor is you." Like a scene in a suspense vid, his words were punctuated by another flash of lightning.

At his words, Carson's head jerked up. "Me?"

"There's no better choice, Carson. I've checked; there's only a handful of people who qualify as it stands now. But there's a major difference: You are not contaminated by a life lived in the project. You can succeed where I failed. You can be what I set out to be."

"What makes you think there's enough support for me to be elected?"

Ramsay smiled. "You don't think I'd approach you like this if I hadn't already begun laying the groundwork, do you? Your behavior at the last council meeting, the way you met Helga's challenge...that settled the matter in some peoples' minds."

He stood and buttoned his suit coat, signaling that the meeting was approaching its conclusion. "At next month's council meeting, if nothing happens to me in the interim, there will be a motion introduced to strip the Lund and Clemonte families from their seats on the council; it will pass. Immediately after that, there will be a call for a vote of no-confidence in my leadership; it will pass, and I will resign from the council, pending election of my replacement. After that, your name will be put forward as a possible replacement, along with any other proposed candidates. The members of the council will return home to discuss the matter with their families, and one week later there will be an emergency meeting of the council to elect my replacement. You will be sworn in immediately."

Carson was stunned that things had gotten so far without even a hint of it reaching his ears. He was overwhelmed by the faith the Director and the people he was working with were showing him. When he said so, the man clapped him on the shoulder and said, "It's not 'faith' when you've seen it in action. You're a very impressive young man, Carson, and I wish I had gotten to know you under better circumstances."

They reached the boundary wall. Before he collapsed the field, Ramsay laid a hand on his arm to stop him. "Two things. First, and in no way is the plan I laid out contingent on this request. I have a 23-year old daughter. Her name's Lena, and she'll finish up a master's degree in political science this coming spring. She's a beautiful girl but driven. Hasn't taken time for a personal life since she's been in college. She asked me to find someone who could be her significant other in her political life. Someone who will share the limelight with her and protect her image. I can think of no better person to recommend than you."

"Wow," said Carson. "That's quite an ask."

"You did it for Gabe and Quinn," pointed out Ramsay.

"You knew about that?"

"Not for sure. Just a suspicion, a few threads that seemed to point that direction."

Carson considered his proposal. On the face of it, he didn't think it would a problem. But he'd definitely need to speak to the Pride before giving a definite answer. "I'll need to think about it," said Carson. "Will she be back over the holidays?" he asked. "I'd like to talk to her."

"Tell you what," said Ramsay. "Here's her contact information. Give her a call. School's only a couple of hours away. You could probably meet her just about any time you wanted." Carson's comm unit pinged with the incoming information. From a glance at his Omnix display, he could see that the information had been added to his contacts. He started to turn away but stopped.

He turned back and asked, "What was the other thing?"

"What?"

"A minute ago, you said 'two things.' Lena was one, but what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Watch your back, Carson. I don't know everybody that's involved, but I have no doubt that there are more than just the council members involved. Oh, and especially watch out for Akari. I'm pretty sure she's supposed to keep track of my activities. She's smart, like technical genius smart. If she's an enemy, she's a very dangerous one."

Carson thanked him, and after the force wall was dropped, made his way back towards the transport. He tried not to look, but he could definitely sense Akari's eyes on him the entire way. She was still looking at him when he turned around in the transport. Just before the doors closed, he gave her a little smile, winked, and waggled his fingers in goodbye. In hindsight, probably wasn't a good idea to taunt a dangerous enemy, he thought. He checked the time and realized he should just have enough time to make his dinner appointment, in spite of the storm outside that would surely grind traffic to a standstill.

It was still five minutes shy of 7 o'clock when a bedraggled, sodden mess of a man stumbled into The Farmer's Daughter out of the rain. Carson cursed the makers of his new umbrella, which tore free from the support vanes at the first strong gust of wind. As luck would have it, there was some event taking place at the civic center as well. Parking was at a premium, and Carson had had to walk several blocks in the pouring rain something only vaguely resembled an umbrella to shield himself from the downpour.

He was still shaking water from his hair and overcoat when he felt something brush against his senses. It was not unlike the feeling he'd gotten the night he first realized that he could 'tune in' to personal frequencies. His head jerked up, and he scanned the room to see if anyone was looking at him, but no one caught his eye. He hung up his coat and what was left of his umbrella and began looking specifically for Siubahn. We're in the back-right corner. As far away from the door as you can get, he heard in his head.

On my way, he sent. He wove his way through the crowded dining area, his eyes scanning for the familiar silvery locks of his Scottish friend. She was looking for him too; he nodded to acknowledge her wave and made his way towards them. He could only see the back of the man's head, but it seemed oddly familiar. Weird how you can look at the back of someone's head and think you recognize them. The closer he got to their table though, he felt a kind of grating, grinding sensation in his head. There was a force pressing against his mind, and it was beginning to get uncomfortable.

Still, he had more important concerns than a potential headache, so he pressed on. Reaching their table, Carson slid in next to Siubahn. She surprised him by leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you could make it, maighstir Jayne. I'm pleased to introduce you to..."

Whatever she said next was completely lost to Carson. He sat frozen in place, his hand half-extended in greeting, his mouth open in shock. He was looking at a ghost, a face he hadn't seen in the roughly 13 years since he'd put it in the ground.

"Dad?" he managed to squeak out before blackness descended over his eyes.

*****

End notes:

If you were paying attention, you might have caught a reference to author Mike Carey's Felix Castor character. I've really enjoyed reading that series, and I wanted to pay homage in my own tiny way. The first book is called, "The Devil You Know." I highly recommend you check it out.

There's also a parody of a line spoken by Luther Stickell in the first Mission : Impossible movie.

Thanks for reading,

—MB