Awakening, 2nd edition (38 page)

They fell silent and for some time just looked around wearily.

Then Chris broke the silence again.

“So what do you think happened to them?”

“Who knows. Things happen. Maybe they ran out of gas. Or the engine died. Or they really wanted to explore that shore, got too close, and the screw hit a log . . . A lot of things could ’ve happened.”

“What about the radio?”

“Now that’s a good question. No idea why they decided to leave it. Just doesn ’t make sense. And it really doesn ’t sou nd like something Rob would do.”

“And what if this wasn ’t their idea?” Chris asked, biting his lip. “World ’s full of helpers.”

Brandon shook his head in doubt.

“What for? And who could ’ve known in advance that something was about to happen? I mean—Wait. What are you trying to say?”

“Yep. That’s what I ’m trying to say. Somebody could ’ve known in advance. Not only that something was going to happen, but also what that something was going to be.”

“No way,” Brandon waived away this conspiracy theory. “That ’s too much. Way too much. It stinks of felony. I don ’t believe anyone here could ’ve done something to that boat. Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious. Don ’t tell me you ’ve never seen people play dirty.”

“I’m not about to. Sure, I ’ve seen enough dirt. But this ? To set up a couple of people so they get lost in the middle of nowhere or drown like puppies? It ’s above and beyond office politics. We ’re all normal people here, not monsters.”

“I’m now work ing for my third company, ” Chris said suddenly for no obvious reason.

Brandon looked at him silently.

“And just like you I ’ve seen enough. Same in the previous company. People fight like dogs, backstab, get sucked into endless turf wars, fight for projects, fight for headcounts . . . Same old shit as everywhere. But like you said, not a single problem with the law. In my first company I didn ’t get to see even that. I sat too low down the food chain and I was a rookie, still full of ideas they ’d put into my head in college. You know that the world is great and life is fair. And everything around was so smooth, so nice, so flashy. I spent one happy year there and then one morning some grim people in uniforms came to escort our CEO out of the building. In the healthy company of other local hotshots. Turned out they were . . . shall we say supportive of a certain low -quality work. Really, really low quality. And somewhere far away that low -quality work was causing problems. Walls were coming down. And people were dying beneath those walls. And I ’m not talking one, two . . .”

He half-turned and squinted at Brandon .

“I’m talking nearly a hundred people. Ninety -one, if I remember correctly. The number struck me back then. Ninety -one. They had contacts all around the world and used a long subcontracting chain, so they stayed clean for a long time. And they knew. They knew for years.

“But the money was to o good and the chain was too long. There was a trial later that year. It was in the papers, you probably even read something about it. They got locked away for a while; I ’m sure they ’re still doing their time. And they, too, were normal people, not monsters. I knew one of them personally, played racquetball with the guy, shook his hand and thought it was such great networking. They, too, must ’ve spent some days at management classes. And then they came back to sign a paper or two so that a year later some family would be buried under rubble. And they knew it wo uld happen, at least that it might happen.

“Back to us—what are we talking about here? Making a hole in a boat so that your direct competitor at worst takes a cold bath or spends a night on the lake? That ’s it?”

“Okay,” Brandon said after a short silence. “You ’ve made your case. I agree, it is a possibility.”

He sighed.

“I don’t like it. I don ’t like it at all.”

“You mean what ’s happened to Rob and Stella?”

“That too, but I mean this entire workshop. It seemed smart at the beginning, but now it just doesn ’t feel right anymore. It just stinks, you know what I mean?”

Chris grinned with understanding.

“I sure do. Stink it does, but who ’s making it stink? We are. You do, I do. Someone who planted the note in Alex ’s room. Someone who made that hole. Everyone.”

Brandon picked his mustache , his face looking as if he had just taken a bite of a lemon.

“I know what you mean. Still, the entire structure is wrong. This is what I was trying to tell Clark. We ’re being intentionally played off one against the other . And we ’re supposed , in good consciousness , to pick a leader? How? No rules, let the slyest win . . . How can you have a leader with no trust at all?”

“Is someone playing you off against me?” Chris asked. “I trust you. I hope you trust me , too. So it ’s not that bad. There ’s some filth out there, but in general the workshop is not that bad.”

“True,” Brandon clapped on the shiny chrome railing. “You ’re right. But this is not what I ’m talking about. You trust me, I trust you, everyone ’s happy. But some son of a bitch here keeps poisoning the well. Someone writes these notes, someone damages boats . . . And with all of that he might be the best presenter in the room. And I have to vote for someone like that ? Based on his speech? How am I supposed to vote? The whole system here is built to make any trust impossible.”

“Trust?” Chris repeated after him doubtfully. “What does trust have to do with it?”

“Everything, ” Brandon said hotly. “If I lead people , they ’d better trust me. They ’d better believe in me. They should trust me more than they trust their best friend, more than they trust themselves. They should understand that they follow me, but I have their backs. I watch out for them. I ’m like an iron wall for them. And if there ’s no trust, if there ’s no trust like this, then how the hell can I be a leader?”

He went quiet.

“I can’t pick a leader here. And I don ’t see how anyone can pick me. Someone ’s playing dirty. Who knows, it could ’ve been me who moved that walkie-talkie.”

“Well,” said Chris with a smile. “If it’s of any consolation, I know you ’re clean. But you got it right : t he dirtier you play the handier our rules come in.”

“And the worst thing is, there ’s nothing better, ” Brandon said grimly. “We spent an entire day coming up with what we ’ve got. There isn ’t any time left for even thinking about new rules.”

“Not unless it ’s a no-brainer, ” Chris said, somewhat cautiously.

Brandon gave him a questioning look. Chris smirked like an inveterate conspirator.

“Today one extra vote means the game ’s over.”

“So? How else—”

“Wait. Here’s what I mean. Say you get three votes, I get two, Stella gets two. And that crook of yours gets four, thanks to his smooth talk. And guess what ? That ’s where it ends.”

“Is there a better way?”

“There is. If I get two votes and you get three, I ’d much rather see mine going to you than simply getting lost.”

Brandon picked his mustache again, this time thoughtfully.

“I like it. But it ’d be nice to know who not to give the votes to.”

“The way I see it, knowing someone you can give them to is good enough, ” said Chris. “Most likely we ’ll never know who moved that walkie-talkie.”

“By the way, there ’s another question about that. I’m thinking out loud but . . .”

“What is it?”

“Sure, it ’d be nice to know who did it. But what ’s even more interesting is how did that guy know in advance from which boat to take it? Unless—”

The walkie-talkie suddenly came to life.

“Can you hear me? Can you hear me?” Alex ’s voice interspersed with the engine noise.

“Yes, we can hear you, ” Brandon said, squinting .

Looking at Chris, he waived his free hand. Chris nodded and turned off the engine.

“We can hear you, ” Brandon repeated in sudden silence.

“You can go back now.”

“You found them?”

“We found the boat.”

“Are they all right?”

“We found the boat, ” Alex repeated in a strange tone. “Just the boat. They ’re gone.”

Chapte r Seven

“So, boys, how are we going to entertain ourselves?” Joan asked jovially once they returned to the lounge.

The hunters are gone, she wanted to add, but decided that this comment might do more harm than good.

“We could pick a leader, ” Paul drawled broodingly, his eyes moving around the empty room.

The trio of observers had disappeared and nothing in the room spoke of the harsh words that had resounded within these walls less than an hour ago.

Joan welcomed the idea.

“Why not? Let ’s do it quickly and go home.”

“Precisely! We ’ll find Clark, tell him we were nominated by the rest to deliver our decision to him and be done with it.”

“And let them figure our later what happened.”

“Now we just need to locate Clark and his gang.”

“I’ll do that, but you do the talking. They ’ll listen better to the girl.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Hey, Kevin , what ’s that?”

Kevin was shaking his head in very obvious disapproval again.

“Guys, I don ’t like this joke.”

“Guys and gals , if you please. And who said it was a joke?”

“It better be. I hope you wouldn ’t consider anything like it, even if it were possible.”

Paul snorted.

“You’re such a Mr. Right eous , aren ’t you? Don ’t tell me you wouldn ’t have done it if you had a chance to get away with it. Especially if we picked you .”

“You mean, pick one of us and leave everyone else high and dry? Of course I wouldn ’t.”

“Yeah, right, ” Paul ’s voice was oozing irony. “Of course you wouldn ’t. How could I even think of such a monstrosity ?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that anyone would jump at an opportunity like that, including you. Three is less than eleven and you know that.”

“So you would do it in a heartbeat ?”

“Of course I would. And so would you.”

“Don’t think everyone is as rotten as you are!”

“Oh, how sweet. Now we ’re going to—”

“Boys, boys . . .” Joan ’s hands flitted to their shoulders. “Calm down. It ’s not worth it. Joke or no joke, it ’s all right. I didn ’t stay here to listen to you two quarrel. You know what ?” Her gaze shifted thoughtfully from Paul to Kevin . “Can you stay here on your own for a minute or two?”

“Naturally,” Paul responded.

“Definitely, ” echoed Kevin.

“Wonderful!” Joan seemed really happy. “Just stay calm while I ’m not here, all right? I ’ll step away for a second, then I ’ll be back and we ’ll have something interesting to do. I have an idea. But promise me, no fighting while I ’m gone.”

“You sound like my mother, ” Kevin said.

“You sound like his mother, ” agreed Paul.

“Boys!”

“We’re kidding. Go.”

She had only just stepped into the hallway when she overheard : “—Now you watch your language. I don ’t appreciate—”

The atmosphere had definitely changed since yesterday.

No shortcuts on this one, she thought examining her face in the restroom mirror. You take your time or you pay the price. It ’s a piece of cake to look seductive in a dark bar. There ’s almost no light, shadows softy emphasize everything that should be emphasized. A few confident strokes—and you ’re in business. You can drink martini, you can lean back gracefully in your chair, you can cross and re-cross your legs all evening long. You can go outside, in the deep warm dusk , and chat with Alan, watching the boy and sensing, almost physically, him being completely taken over by desire. And then you can easily sculpt anything out of him, like a skillful sculptor out of a chunk of pliable clay.

Being seductive in bright sunlight with almost no effort is possible , too. But only if you ’re eighteen. As the years pass so does the freshness, and by the time you ’re pushing forty , looking sexy in the daylight is a whole art . And a tough one. Especially if the man is sat right by you. Two strokes don ’t cut it anymore. Maybe pink-cheeked farmer ’s daughters can sweep men off their feet without cosmetics at this age, but we, the office workers, don ’t have this luxury. The sun ’s rays accentuate precisely what shouldn ’t be accentuated. They point out flaws mercilessly, deepen and enlarge otherwise nearly unnoticeable wrinkles, bleach ed hair. Semi-darkness is a reliable , trusted friend. The sun isn ’t. It ’s not a foe, but not an ally either. But with the right approach , even a foe could be turned into a friend. You just need to do this and this, and this . . .

While her hands were busy conducting their habitual ritual, her mind was focused on a single question: how to make the best of the remaining time . There wasn ’t much of it left —in fact nearly none. Last night was well spent in the end, she thought. Oh, last night . . . First that stupid drama, then poor Ed.

Poor Ed would do wonders in return for one more night like that . And for a hint—just a hint—of the possibility of meeting outside these walls once the workshop was over , he would do even more. The poor puppy—no, not a puppy, if anything he ’s more like a koala—anyway, the poor guy obviously isn ’t a ladies ’ man and can ’t claim a lot of victories. Not until last night, anyway. But , boy , is he scared . . . There wasn ’t anything outrageous about that request, just a little innocent question during the little break in the midnight activities—and he nearly fell off the bed. But since he had been nearly falling off the bed for other reasons, he seemed open to considering that little request. He ’s halfway there. One more night like that —and he ’ll do everything he ’s asked. In less than twenty four hours his reluctance will be history.