RAGE (The Rage Series Book 1) (2 page)

              David might have been poor for most of his life, but he was no charity case. He worked for every cent he received. Starting soon, he was going to earn a salary more than double what he currently made. With a small smile at the thought, David left the apartment, making sure that he locked and bolted the door behind him.

              Outside, the weather was beautiful.

              It was summer, and all the kids were out frolicking in the sun. Someone had pulled the cap off a fire hydrant, and the cool water sprayed out over the scalding hot pavement, making the children scream in delight as it showered over them. David only hoped that one day his children could be so carefree.

              Though the apartment he rented was small and inexpensive, he'd taken pains to ensure that it was in a good neighborhood. Around their block, the Lower East Side was developing with gourmet restaurants and tiny little specialty shops popping up every day. Every once in a while, David would duck into those shops to buy a little something for his mother or a current girlfriend. Though the girlfriends always appreciated it, it was harder to make his mother smile.

              As he headed for the subway, he saw that a specialty chocolate store had opened over the weekend. He always had a sweet tooth, and he supposed that if he got the job today as he planned, he might have to treat himself on the way home.

              As was always the case at seven-thirty on a Monday morning in the city, there was standing room only on the train. Several women eyed David with more than cursory interest, but he hardly noticed. He was going over what he planned to say during his interview and the main projects he intended to discuss to impress them.

              He'd reached the bustling financial district by seven-fifty. As always, when he was in that part of the city, he took the opportunity to gaze up at the structures rising thousands of feet into the air. He remembered his father lifting him onto his shoulders and pointing the buildings out to him one-by-one. The skyline had, of course, changed a bit since 9/11, but there were other buildings he recognized from his childhood.

              “
One day,”
his father had promised him,
“I'll have a corner office in one of these buildings, and you and Mom can come visit me for lunch. We'll eat at the top of the world.”

              The memory made his gut clench.

              Quickly, David joined the throngs of people hurrying through the streets and found his way to the seventy-story building emblazoned with the Mathers Incorporated logo. For a moment, as he merely stared at the 'M' shaped door handles, his stomach simmered with a deep, seething hatred. It was an emotion so profound that the people swarming about him actually parted like the Red Sea, sensing a disturbance.

              However, as quickly as the feeling had crested, it faded, and David pulled the door open and entered the cool, expansive marble lobby.

              He'd arrived fifteen minutes early for his interview and advanced on to the front desk. The sounds of many footsteps echoed off of the stone walls. A smiling receptionist looked up at him, her garb as neat as his own. “Name, please?”

              “David Marscomb.” Then, he awarded her with his most stunning smile. In return, he was rewarded with her slight blush of pleasure.

              “Um...do you have an appointment?”

              “I do,” he replied jauntily, glancing at the clock on the wall behind her. “Eight-ten.”

              “Just one moment, let me look you up.”

              As she did, he glanced around the huge lobby. Fifty people must have been going in and out of the front entryway. The place had changed in twenty years—that was certain. He noticed that it had grown both up and out, and he had watched it every step of the way.

              “Alright, Mr. Marscomb. Here's your visitor’s pass.” With a pretty curving of her lips, the brunette woman handed him a paper pass with his picture and his name. “Good luck.”

              Off-handedly, David scanned the paper and realized that it listed the reason for his visit. He supposed that if the smiling receptionist knew the real reason he had come to Mathers today, she would probably be less enthusiastic about letting him past. However, David didn't mean
her
any harm. She'd probably never think twice on his face, and that was for the best.

              With a final wave, he walked past the reception desk and lined up before the bay of six elevators. He wanted the sixty-fifth floor, and he'd be willing to bet a large part of his current salary that the view was amazing.

              It was perhaps five minutes before he could board an elevator; but, when he did, the technological marvel—one of Mathers' first and most successful products—rose so quickly and so smoothly that no one inside felt a thing. David knew for a fact that the elevator car was so well stabilized that it could drop
twenty
stories and the passengers inside would never be the wiser. That had been one of the piece's most amazing selling points, in his opinion, when his father had first described the original design to him almost twenty years ago.

              When he stepped from the elevator on the sixty-fifth floor, the lobby was no less luxurious than the one on the first floor. Only this time, the walls were painted a deep wine color, and the floor was covered in glistening black tiles. David approached the second reception desk and flashed his pass. Then, another smiling woman gestured for him to have a seat.

              In the plush waiting area—where he sat on a chair that probably cost more than he made in a month—were three other individuals: two men and a woman. David guessed that they were all vying for the same position and so not a single word of conversation was uttered between them. In the silence, David remembered all of the horrible tech jobs he'd taken over the years. It took two jobs to get him through university. He also remembered the late nights he’d spent pouring over his father's research.

              This position would be his. His future depended on it.

              “David Marscomb?”

              His was the first name to be called, at exactly eight-ten.  Upon hearing it, he rose immediately and followed a young woman out of the waiting area. She led him through double doors that were locked with a card pass and into the office.

              Almost immediately, despite David's level of concentration, he was assaulted with awe-inspiring technological marvels from the past ten years. There was the Uphone—a device that far exceeded the iPhone in storage capacity, durability, and software compatibility. There was also the MediBot, which was used to correctly diagnose diseases that might have taken years at the hands of normal doctors, and the Web Glass, the first sphere-shaped, self-contained computer of it's kind.

              They were now staples of modern life, and David knew for a fact that his father had created at least one of them.

              They passed glass-walled laboratories where he could see techs in the midst of their work, going through various rounds of trial and error with sample products. He managed to catch a glimpse of a whole room of designers, who were hard at work, when a door opened as they passed. Finally, they came to a long, sparsely-decorated conference room with six velour chairs all situated about a round table.

              A small woman sat in one of the chairs, appearing close to his age. She hosted fiery red hair that was cropped at her shoulders and piercing green eyes. David knew she was the head of Mathers Incorporated’s tech department, Adeline Reynolds. She was tough and brilliant. Standing before her, he was slightly intimidated.

              “Mr. Marscomb.” Her voice was pleasant, if slightly aloof, as she gestured to the table before her. “Please, take a seat. Margery, I'll inform you when I'm ready for the next candidate.”

              At those words, the younger girl left him alone with the woman who was single-handedly responsible for bringing Mathers Incorporated into the newest technological age.

              At least that is what everyone had been allowed to think.

              With little hesitation, David took the seat right next to Reynolds, setting his briefcase on the table and sitting back to give her space. He had long since learned that his long limbs and powerful physique could intercede on the personal space of others without his noticing—not that women usually minded. However, Adeline Reynolds was no ordinary woman.

              “Welcome to the Tech Research and Development Department, or TRDD, as we call it. I'm Adeline Reynolds, and I run this floor. I'm sure you're aware that we like to keep abreast of the newest technological trends. Do you have any information on any projects we're currently working on?”

              At her question, David's lips curved slightly. She didn't waste any time. The company wanted to know if the candidates were doing their research.

              He had researched for years.

              “Well, I read from your last press release that you're working on the second generation model of the Web Glass, upgrading it to be compatible with regular laptops via bluetooth and wireless outlets. I've also heard that you're starting production on a prototype that had been rumored to be a far more advanced version of the Google glass, called the Mathers Seeing Eye. Provided that there are no final kinks to be worked out, you hope to see both products on the market by early 2016.”

              The woman before him betrayed little with her expression, but a slight twitching of her hands let him know that he had spoken quite a bit more expansively than she had expected. “I see. Well, you've certainly done your homework. Can you tell me which of these products you think will be the most successful and why?”

              These questions were child's play for him.

              “Though I'm personally more fond of the Web Glass as a web-browsing device, the modern age is moving rapidly into a hands-free era. Since the Mathers Seeing Eye is supposed to have twice the processing power of the Google Glass at half the price, I can only imagine the public would eat it up as an outlet.”

              “Interesting.” This time, a faint smile crossed the redhead's lips, and inwardly, David groaned. He had no idea if the answer he'd provided her had pleased her or not when she performed such gestures. He realized that she had probably done so to keep him from feeling as if he had the upper hand.

              All these years...and he was getting cocky. His father would never have approved. He couldn't afford to let his overconfidence ruin him. “So, Mr. Marscomb, could you tell me why you decided to apply for the position of Senior Tech Advisor. I see from your resume that all the positions you've held have been entry level—despite the fact that you graduated at the top of your class from MIT with honors.”

              Her appraisal of him made him repress a wince at her insensitivity. He may have graduated at the top of his class, but it was harder to find a tech job that he wasn't
overqualified
for than one might think. Additionally, David had started small. He'd wanted to learn the ins and outs of start-ups and small firms so he'd be better able to understand how Mathers Incorporated had made their millions. He'd done grunt work for years but now, God willing, he was ready.

              “I believe that you have to pay your dues at the bottom before you rise to the top, Miss Reynolds,” he finally said, choosing his words carefully. “I applied here because I believe I have the experience, the intuition, and the drive to take this company's designs to the next level. I may have worked white collar all my life, but now I know the white collar man and his needs. That was my ultimate goal, and I believe that the knowledge I gained is invaluable.”

              For a moment, Adeline merely stared at him, her intense green gaze scrutinizing as she looked him over from head to foot. Briefly, David worried that perhaps she might see a long lost face within his features, but no. He was sure that no one in the company, after so long, would have dug so deep.

              His worries were assuaged when the woman finally said, “Alright, you've piqued my interest, Mr. Marscomb. Show me what's in that briefcase of yours.”

              With a slight curve of his lips, he complied. Cracking open his briefcase, he retrieved three manila folders containing his most impressive prototypes—the ones he'd spent a lifetime on. These were projects he hadn't even hinted at with any company he'd worked with for fear that they'd try to take them from him.

              However, for Mathers, he'd give his life's work.

              He did, after all, intend to take it right back.

              For a moment, the woman flipped through each folder, her expression unreadable. All told, she took about twenty minutes carefully perusing the detailed plans that he'd accumulated. Finally, when she closed the folder and looked up at him again, her gaze held more than a hint of admiration.             

              “Mr. Marscomb, this is interesting stuff.”

              It was as close to a compliment as he'd ever get from the Reynolds woman, and he knew it. Her reputation as an icy taskmaster preceded her.